The Prime Minister was sweating. Profusely. He was on the phone. An ancient and impossible to crack phone. It had one use. It had one user. It was linked only to the Canadian Prime Minister's office and to Buckingham Palace.
"Yes, your Majesty. We have been getting the reports, too. It is deeply concerning. We are monitoring the situation as best we can and we are seeking to find out what is causing the aberration. I know that is a vast understatement, Your Majesty.
"Yes, I have seen the report a goose even went up and nuzzled an American after saving his life from a moose. There seems to be little effect on the populous other than the confirmed effects in Alberta: they have started saying "Y'all." They are still nice though. There are reports of something happening in British Columbia, but that may be merely some new strain of marijuana and not the Protocol breach.
"We are sure Wildrose is NOT behind this. They are as dismayed as the rest of us. When a Canadian goose cleaned up the mess it may on Danielle Smith's lawn and seemingly apologized, she immediately contacted me. She was aghast.
"Yes, Your Majesty. I am aware it is one of the signs of the apocalypse if Canada democratically decides to become American. I know the Crown cannot afford to have Hell freeze over: Victoria's Great Engine would seize and you would pass away leaving your Crown to Charles rather than William. I am aware of what your actions will be if the Protocol outright fails.
"We are doing everything we can to find the root cause. We will stop the Protocol Breach. We have our best agents searching: I promise. I will keep you aprized. Thank you, Your Majesty."
Trudeau's hands shook as he put down the phone. He reached for a cloth on his desk. A lesser man, a less in shape man, would have died of a heart attack half way through the call. Unfailingly polite she may be, but that Woman could be terrifying when her furnace was fully stoked.
He took a breath. He held it for a moment and then exhaled. He was risking much by not fully informing the Crown, but he knew he had to: if she suspected the chaos in the American election was tied to the Protocol breach...he shuddered.
For a moment, before he called in his Cabinet, he sat and muttered, "I know you are behind this. I just have to find you. No one has seen you in a week, not since just before the breach...I will find you. I will stop you. Whatever it is you are plotting."
...
Far, far to into the Canadian Arctic, kilometers away from any human settlement and in a place too horrific even for the polar bears, a brown coated animals howled in pain and anguish as its body metamorphosed. A cloaked figure watched with glee.
"Yes! Yes! Yes! Absorb their hate! Absorb their anger! Revel in their fear! Channel it! Use it! It is mighty! It is powerful!"
The furred creature shifted, screamed and contorted. It's paws changed, becoming unholy. It shifted and warped and lost its fur over most of its body. It became an unhealthy color, too long and far from the Sun. It howled and beat at the ground as the hate coursed through it. As the bigotry and ignorance racked its body, soul, heart and mind, it arched backwards into the air as bones cracked, shifted and reformed in its new and corrupt state.
The amulet around its neck glowed bright with a terrible darkness as the changes warped and remolded the creature until the power faded. Until the transformation was complete.
Then the Canadian Penny set within reverted to normal. A bauble on a necklace.
And the creature stood erect.
The cloaked figure cackled his mad laugh and smiled his sickly smile.
Doug Ford looked upon his creation and was pleased.
"Good. Good. Good. Arise, my creature. You are ready.
"Now. You need an appropriate moniker. I name you....Logan."
