London, U.K. - October 28, 2012
In the tallest tower of the Palace of Westminster, a secret phone rang. It also relayed a special text message to David Cameron's phone that read simply: "Adams." Cameron wondered what had taken so long. He bounded up two flights of stairs to the special phone, caught his breath, and answered. "Adams? What's going on? I've seen your capital on the news. It's been leveled!"
"Adams is dead," a gruff voice replied. Rain pounded on the window, but everything else was still.
"Th- then who this?" Cameron stuttered.
"Call us Destroyers," another voice answered.
"What about the Drudge? Are they under control?" Cameron started to worry. D.C. could be in worse shape than he thought.
"The Drudge are free now. They've allied themselves with us. You needn't fear them."
"May I ask why you're calling, then? This isn't exactly a standard line," Cameron snapped. He felt his back and forehead begin to sweat in the humidity. Lightning bolts cracked the dark clouds and lit up the dim office.
"We need your help to stop Tiamat. We think she'll target the Internet," a third voice said.
"Who's Tiamat?" Cameron asked. He'd never heard Adams mention the name.
"She's an alien supercomputer. Adams's files say her miles of tentacles put her in contact with everyone in 'the place,' granting her access to total information and allowing everything to work in cold, efficient harmony. We suspect that, figuratively, her tentacles will be the infrastructure of the Internet, once she connects with it."
Cameron began to wobble slightly. It seemed impossible - an alien supercomputer mounting the entire Internet - but he'd had the special phone line long enough to know that there was no alien story too far-fetched. He grabbed onto the desk to steady himself. "How will you stop it - her?" he asked.
"Why, we'll cut the tentacles, one by one. Before she can appropriate them."
"You're going to cut up the Internet? That's mad!" Cameron was nearly yelling.
"The big underwater cables are perfect points to strike. If we can disable enough of those, Tiamat should be relatively confined thanks to the ocean. We'll need your navy to prevent people from repairing the damage."
"If we disable the bloody Internet, people will riot! There could be violence or casualties. It could be twenty times worse than last summer." Cameron was becoming frantic. The rain was pouring; drops had given way to waves moving down the windows in solid sheets.
"If you don't help us, people will work in cold, efficient harmony - to Tiamat's ends. Do you really want to find out what those ends might be?"
Cameron plopped down into the office chair. Everything secret he had learned since becoming Prime Minister - the Annunaki, the Drudge, the Trust - whirred around him. He could feel himself becoming dizzy. "How do I know this isn't a bunch of nonsense? You could be some sort of terrorists, trying to cause chaos. D.C. is comprised, and you're taking advantage." He found this explanation reassuring. He leaned back and kicked his feet up onto the desk. There was a brief silence on the other end.
"Are you alone, Prime Minister?"
"I don't know if I should answer that," Cameron said, taken aback.
"Hold on."
A small orange glowball appeared on the wall across from Cameron's desk. Cameron bit his tongue. The glowball grew wider and taller, and flattened itself against the wall. Cameron's eyes widened almost as much. The outer edges then began to harden, sort of like a pizza crust. Armored figures started emerging single-file from the lava-like orange center. Cameron fell backward onto the floor.