Lesson 1: The Art of Propaganda
Chairman Mao was not pleased.
"Amon," he said. "I am not pleased."
Jut to further emphasize his immense displeasure, Chairman Mao screwed up his face into a purple knot and puffed his cheeks.
"You still haven't captured the Avatar!" said Chairman Mao.
Amon sighed. He was accustomed to dealing with idiots, but this one…well, he was dumb and deaf. "As I was saying, Chairman Mao, all in due time. I will capture the Avatar along with the rest of her friends. You have nothing to fear."
"No. You are a fool! Delusional! Failure!"
Amon frowned. The Chairman was a writhing lump of sweat and spittle. And fat. Amon wondered if he would pop with just one, tiny jab at the belly—
"Amon! You know what your problem is?"
"What?"
"You lack pizazz! Every great dictator had pizazz. When Trajan conquered the Dacians, he did so in a jizz of glory! Look at the rocky, phallic splendor of Apollodorus! When Napoleon crossed the Alps—pretty little pony he has, by the way—he commissioned the most talented artist of propaganda to commemorate the event! But you, Amon, you have nothing."
"But I have flyers. Clandestine flyers. When joined, they form a map. It's ingeniously clever."
Chairman Mao scowled in disgust. "Insufficient."
"Well," snapped Amon, "What do you suggest?"
"You need a flashy display, liken yourself to a cultural icon. Preferably a misunderstood, tragic hero. Or someone who hands out lollipops."
"Yes, you are right. I see it now. We must first persuade the fangirls and children to join us. Then, we will be invincible. Perhaps…someone like Hamlet. Or David. Or Pope John Paul II—I've heard he was quite the dapper fellow."
"No, no. They won't do. I was thinking more like—"
"Ezio? Someone said I was a total doppelganger for him."
"No—"
"Batman, spiderman. Wait, Thor."
"No! Will you shut up already?" screamed Chairman Mao. "Oh forget it. Just go away already."
Amon smiled. Ezio, now that was a grand idea.