An excerpt from Chrysalis

 1

A few weeks hence

“Hey guys, I’m PegaGus. Welcome to my channel if you’re new here, and if you are new here then what a time you’ve picked. Everyone who wants to know the real truth, not that bullshit the media tell you, should watch this channel, so like and subscribe, and spread the word, get your friends into it as well.

Today I’m going to be showing another example of how the world’s governments and big businesses are trying to exploit us, and this time it’s the implant that you are all hearing about in the media, which supposedly controls the blood-dealers.

They’ve got you by the short and curlies, they have you convinced that this implant does something, and dealers say they have a choice, they have free will, that they could do whatever they like, but they’re all so scared of this thing that does nothing, that really they don’t have free will at all. This is all the government’s doing by the way. They’re making it look like the big bad Blood Pound Gang are being really nasty and controlling their dealers with an innovative and sinister technology. But they’re not. They just want you to think that they are.

 And if we let them succeed, how long do you think it’ll be until they utilise it legitimately, rather than dressing it up as criminal? How long until nobody protests, or is creative, or has any fun at all in public because they’re scared shitless of something that everyone just believes does something? They want to make us obedient, and it’s sad that the general public aren’t even going to make them work for it. They won’t even have to invent something capable of mind control. They just want to say they have and hope that people go along with it. And sadly, too many people are.

You sheeple need to wake the fuck up. This blood shit is just a dressed rehearsal for what’s coming. They’re using dealers are guinea pigs because they’re all at the bottom of the food chain. They can’t experiment on the middle-classes unless they paid them all a shit ton of money, so they’re using desperate people with nothing to lose, happy to have a lump of metal carved into the back of their necks for the derisory amount of money they actually get to keep from each sale.

They done the same thing with the pandemics, making you all stay two metres away from each other and wear those goddamn face-nappies like morons. Stop being sheeple, start allowing PegaGus to show you the light. And today I’ll be shining the light on this implant bullshit. I don’t believe in it, and I’m going to prove to everyone why they shouldn’t either. I’ve already proved that the earth is flat, and that Coronavirus and Hemo were both fake news, so now I’m going to debunk the myth that is… the implant.”

PegaGus’ intro clip and music plays for twelve seconds.

“So, your boy Gus here has only gone and managed to get himself an implant under false pretences, pretending that I’m actually going to be dealing blood. As if. Now watch as I livestream me taking all the blood out of this box with the code the BPG guy gave me, and then taking it and getting all the money for it from the blood bank. The implant is not going to stop me like all those pussies out there think it will. It doesn’t do anything. It’s all in their heads. The media has worked you all into a shoot over what the capabilities of this thing are, and the reality is it’s just a lump of metal.

I’m gonna start by opening up the box. Here we go. Four, eight, eight, nine. And the box is open, Woohoo, I’m still here. I’m only meant to open the box when I’m making a sale, and I’m not making a sale, and guess what? I’m still here. Because it’s all fake news bullshit.

In fact, fuck it, I’ll make a shitload of money from selling the blood, but do you know what? I’m gonna burst one of the bags right now, live on screen. That’ll really stick it to the BPG. Even if they try and send some of their goons round to my house, I’ll still at least have shown the world that there’s nothing to fear from the implant. That it does nothing on its own. All you dealers can just go sell all your stock, make a fortune in doing so, and then the government will just take all the blood that the BPG supposedly have out of wherever they’re hiding it, and we can all go back to living normal lives again.

Let me just grab something sharp… Oh, this pen’ll do. Okay ready folks? I’m gonna stab this pen into the bag of blood, it’s gonna spray everywhere and the BPG are gonna lose out on a couple of grand, and the implant isn’t gonna stop me. Because it’s FAKE. Wake up sheeple. Stop swallowing all the bullshit that the mainstream media are trying to feed you. Okay, here goes. I’m gonna burst this bag. Three. Two. One…”

Gus starts shuddering violently, like he’s having some sort of seizure, foam starts spurting out from his mouth, before he ends up lifeless on the chair he was sitting on in his home studio, his head dropped down onto his left shoulder. The live feed lasted another three minutes with him in the same position, not moving, before YouTube pulled the plug on it and the video was removed from their site. Of course, it had already been recorded by thousands of people and had been around the world and back in milliseconds. PegaGus’ last flight of fancy?

2

A few weeks prior

The Prime Minister, Peter Lightfoot, approaches the lectern, wearing a smart suit over an immaculately ironed white shirt. A blue Conservative tie pristinely knotted tight up against the collar.

Unlike his attire, he looks tired, despite the best efforts of the concealer layered on him for the cameras. His usually perfectly gelled hair has a few rogue strands drooping down. Thanks to the wonders of 8K TV, Derrick can see every bead of sweat running down the PM’s forehead. The stress of being the figurehead responsible for Britain’s response to last night’s heist taking its toll.

“It’s very important that nobody panics. There are some blood reserves in hospitals which will help us see out the next month or so. These stocks have been unaffected by last night’s incidents. Over the last six years, this great nation has endured an awful lot, but the Great British public came together as one and met the Coronavirus and Hemo challenges head on. I have every faith in us that we will rise to the challenge yet again. We are a resilient people, we look out for our neighbours, and that is one of the many reasons why I love being British.

What I ask of each and every one of you, right now, is, if you are medically able to do so, to find some time to donate blood. We will be publishing a list of towns that donations are taking place in both today and over the next couple of weeks. I encourage you to drop whatever it is your plans are for today and get down there. Let’s make sure that in the midst of the carnage caused by Covid and Hemo, that we don’t let this unforeseen event take any more of our dear neighbours and friends.

In the meantime, we will leave no stone unturned as we investigate how the blood went missing. If there is a criminal element to it, then rest assured the culprits will be brought to justice...”

 

Frank, having hesitated outside Derrick's office, decides to knock and enter. Derrick averts his eyes from the screen to see who it is.

“Wasn’t sure whether or not to disturb you, boss. You celebrating your victory, yeah?” Frank nods towards the footage of Lightfoot’s speech.

“Something like that.” Derrick replies as he adopts his more familiar position, on the swivel chair behind his desk. “It’s early days though.”

“I just wanted to check in with you about how last night went. We rounded up another thirty or so tramps. I think we’ve more than ticked off our diversity quota with this lot as well. All I can see in the back of the truck is teeth.” Frank chuckles.

“Excellent. And no hiccups getting the blood?”

“It was a piece of piss. It’s got me wary actually, like something bad’s gonna happen now. Like the police are just gonna be outside waiting on me. Twenty odd years in organised crime and nothing’s ever gone as smoothly as that. I honestly thought you were joking when you told me the security guard we abducted last week was just gonna let us in. Everyone in the van was ready to blow the fucker’s brains out. How did you get him to be so…” He searches for the right word. “Compliant?”

“Trade secret I’m afraid. The main thing is that it worked. There’s your money.” Derrick smiles. He’s the only one aware that it’s a fickle reward given what’s coming. Frank scoops up the envelope and stuffs it into the inside pocket of his jacket. He trusts Derrick implicitly. No need to check it’s all there.

“What are your plans for all these tramps we’ve been snatching, then? You must have about half of the fucking Congo by now.”

“It’s not something you need to concern yourself with, Frank. You just keep rounding them up and I’ll keep the money flowing, understand?”

“Yes boss.” He nods towards the screen where Lightfoot still addresses the nation. “What do you think that dickhead’s going to do since the heist has left him up shit creek, and not just without a paddle, but without a bloody boat?” 

“You’ve seen first-hand with the security guard that I know how to influence people, Frank.” Derrick asserts, uneasy about Frank’s description of the PM. “I have people inside government; people who can pull the strings. It’ll all play out exactly as I want it to.”

“I wouldn’t get too cocky if I were you. Seen many a big shot in my time think they’re the bee’s knees. Things change very quickly in this game.”

“Not very many hold the cards that I do though, Frank. Any more words of wisdom to unnecessarily impart on me, or are we done here?”

“We’re done. I’ll see you with another truck full of tramps tomorrow.”

“Good man, Frank.  See you around.”