Homer had not gotten much sleep on Christmas Eve. The more Homer tried to suss out the most probable point of disaster in Chicago, the more obvious it was that something would have to happen at the Christmas Day Parade. The revelation hit Homer in the midst of a dream. Homer couldn't quite remember the exact contents of the dream overall but was positive that something horrible would happen at that parade, something to change the course of history. So even though it was three in the morning, Homer set to work scoping out a plan by which the Rainbow Shirts would have a perfect vantage point of the entire parade, and woke up all the subordinates as necessary to bring them up to speed.
At nine in the morning Homer received the first bit of ominous news. The Hunter's Guild would be withdrawing from Chicago earlier than expected, within the next few hours. There was, in fact, provision in the contract for them to do so unilaterally. But this clause was in there at least in part under the assumption that the Hunter's Guild wouldn't use it. Homer was baffled. What could have possibly motivated the Hunter's Guild to come out here in the first place, only to leave abruptly so shortly before the elections? And why would anyone leave right before a parade?
By the time the parade finally started, at eleven in the morning, Homer was an absolute nervous wreck. Homer peered out the window of the local Trump Tower with opera glasses, going back and forth between the various chokepoints on the route. All of Homer's people were in position. There was no sign of danger whatsoever. But then what was this odd feeling of foreboding, this sense of impending doom that Homer would be powerless to stop? Though the room was filled with comfortable furniture, and indeed, that was all that was in this room save for Homer personally, Homer could not even be bothered to relax in any of it due to this ongoing state of sheer panic.
Consequently it was several moments before Homer finally realized there was an uninvited guest on the tenth floor. In Homer's defense, the person in question was trying to avoid being obtrusive. Annoyed foot tapping preceded the consternation necessary to make this person finally address Homer directly.
"Excuse me."
Homer whipped around and due to sheer nerves took out a laser gun. Homer only belatedly realized that this was a bit of an overreaction. The target was a short, dark-skinned person bundled up in animal furs. This person had eyes wide open in panic, with arms straight up in the air.
"Don't shoot!"
"Oh! I'm sorry, you're um..." said Homer, fumbling with his memory, finally lowering his weapon. "Do you work for me? There's a lot of you, so I can't really keep track of everyone. What's your name?"
"Jerry Shankar," said the dark-skinned person, arms slowly lowering. "Can I sit down?"
"Of course," said Homer. "Do you need anything to drink?"
"I brought my own water," said Jerry, sitting down in a nearby chair and taking out an old plastic water bottle. Homer stared at it, having not seen a plastic water bottle in years.
"Where did you get that?" asked Homer. "Who are you? What do you want?"
Jerry took several long deliberate gulps, holding up an index finger to ask for pause, looking Homer straight in the eye. Homer realized that this person couldn't possibly be a member of the Rainbow Shirts. No one in the Rainbow Shirts liked to make eye contact, certainly not with a superior officer. It was considered very rude and triggering.
"Well," said Jerry. "This water bottle has been my trusty companion for quite some time now. Plastic is quite indestructable you know, so I figure, why throw it away? As to what I want, well, the same thing as you do I imagine. I want to watch the parade.
"Really?" asked Homer. "Shouldn't you be closer to the window then?"
"Indeed I should!" said Jerry, getting up and sauntering over to Homer's location.
They both looked down at the parade. It was a religious procession at this point. Angels, Buddhas, that sort of thing, in giant floating balloon form. The procession was quaint, but not the kind of thing either Homer or Jerry would find that interesting under normal circumstances. And in the awkward air that settled between the two as they watched the floats move slowly on by, both of them appreciated their mutual disinterest.
"It's all so fragile isn't it?" said Jerry, head moving left to right. "I think that's why parades became popular, they're the ultimate expression of public safety. It would be a shame to have such a marvelous pageant be interrupted by something awful. Terrorism perhaps."
Homer slowly turned to face Jerry. Somehow it had only just dawned on Homer that the name Jerry Shankar sounded familiar. Of course, Homer never took any of those stories seriously, and tried to stamp the rumors out wherever they might be found. The whole idea of Jerry Shankar was so fantastically improbable that it had already taken quite a bit of energy on Homer's part just to realize that "Jerry Shankar" in this case was anything beside a normal name.
"That's impossible," Homer said, stifling a nervous laugh. "You're not real."
"Do you," said Jerry, making hasty hang gestures, while turning around to get back to the chair. "have any idea how difficult it was for me to actually get here? I don't mean infiltrating the building. Your security's a joke. Literally all I had to do was bribe a maid."
"The word maid is a sexist anachronism and you should feel ashamed for using it," said Homer, bristling with irritation. "The appropriate word is housekeeper."
Jerry looked at Homer, again straight in the eyes, blinking in confusion. Jerry seemed to be trying to decide whether the appropriate reaction was to laugh or get angry. Jerry ultimately decided on laughter of the highly derisive kind.
"Well, I guess when you put it that way," Jerry said, still snickering, "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault," said Homer. "I presume you're Canadian."
"Excuse me?" asked Jerry, clearly bewildered. "Why would I be Canadian? Do I look Canadian? Are there a lot of Canadians with Indian names?"
"Immediately I meant in the sense that you speak with anachronisms," said Homer. "But you know, actually, Canada has a very vibrant Indian minority population," said Homer. "In fact there used to be a literary movement based around Indian storytelling-"
"Those were all written by white people!" yelled Jerry, angrily punching a nearby wall and overturning a table before turning to face Homer again. "I know! Ever since I was a kid no one could shut up about them! As if I had any reason to care!"
Jerry started taking deep breaths. Homer was baffled by the strong negative reaction almost completely out of nowhere. This Jerry Shankar was a very odd person. Homer still wasn't sure whether this situation was for real if it was just some sort of elaborate prank.
"Are you OK?" asked Homer. "I could get you something nicer to drink."
"No, I'm fine," Jerry broke with a start. "Why are you offering to help me? Your mortal enemy? Have you no sense at all?"
"I'm sorry-"
"No!" said Jerry. "No, you're not sorry! You want me to fail!"
Jerry tried to calm himself down again, wiping his brow. As horribly cold as Chicago was this man's imbecility was giving him a fever.
"Is everyone in the Social Justice Army like this?" asked Jerry. "So unfailingly nice, regardless of context, you can't even sense danger?"
"No, that's just me really," said Homer. "And I would prefer it if you didn't call us the Social Justice Army. Our name is the Rainbow Shirts."
"How in the world is that less insulting?" asked Jerry, incredulous yet again. "I wasn't even using Social Justice Army as an insult! You used to call yourselves that! Have you been interpreting that as a slur this entire time?!"
It was then that Homer heard a loud crackling sound. It could be fireworks, or it could be conventional gunfire. Homer was horrified to realize the ramifications of this. But the worst part was, Homer was still looking directly at Jerry. So before Homer had realized what was going on, this evil smile had spread across Jerry's face, and Homer watched its creation from beginning to end.
"Well well well," said Jerry, chin on his hands and leaning forward. "Finally figured it out haven't you? Why I'm here? It was just for this moment, after all. I wanted to see the look on your face when you finally realized I've been playing you for a fool."
Homer ran back to the window, staring at the streets below. People were screaming and running. Some lied fallen in the street. But that wasn't the worst part. Homer could tell that nobody had been shot. There was no blood. The only people that could be seen doing anything, or acting in an aggressive manner at all, were the Rainbow Shirts who had been stationed on the rooftops. They were firing their laser guns. And while Homer was reasonably sure they had followed protocol and set the laser guns to stun rather than kill, the optics of the situation were very bad. Homer activated the vocal array and attempted to relay orders.
"Stand down!" Homer screamed. "Retreat!"
And yet no one did anything. Homer fumbled around for his earpiece and realized it wasn't there. Homer turned around to look at Jerry again.
"Looking for this?" said Jerry, holding the tiny object in his hand. "I've never understood the appeal of these things. Let's say you had used a bigger object, maybe a radio? I could never have palmed that off of you so easily. And what happens if you drop one of these things anyway? Can you find it again, even with all your fancy augments? Let's find out."
And with that Jerry just dropped it. And sure enough, the earpiece invisibly rolled into some obscure corner. Homer stared at Jerry with incredulity, unsure whether this person had actually somehow planned even that detail. Homer grimaced, and started to march toward Jerry's location, grabbing Jerry by the scruff of the coat.
"Sure you want to be missing the lovely view?" asked Jerry, still smirking.
"What did you do?" asked Homer, pushing Jerry up against the wall.
"Barely anything, amusingly enough," said Jerry, still smiling through the grunts of pain from being ground against the wall. "As I recall, this is how you all got into this mess in the first place. One strange errant sound, and that's all it takes. The Social Justice Army, Iowans, the police, normal citizens, all at each others' throats. No more false compromises. Just a bid for power. Let the best faction win, and murder all the rest."
Homer felt the near-uncontrollable impulse to slap Jerry hard across the face. But it was only a near-uncontrollable impulse. Homer quickly realized that Jerry's smugness was intended to distract Homer from the immediate crisis. In spite of the absurdity of the situation, Homer decided to go after the earpiece, head down to the floor and finding it in a surprisingly short period of time. After barking out a general order for all of the Rainbow Shirts to regroup at Trump Tower, it was only at that belated moment that Homer realized Jerry needed to be restrained.
But by the time Homer had turned back around, Jerry had already vanished. It hadn't been any more than thirty seconds. Homer didn't see how Jerry could have possibly left the building. Nevertheless, further instructions to the building's security made it clear that somehow Jerry had gotten free. Homer was facing additional psychic trauma in an already overly stressful situation. How sure was Homer that Jerry was real at all? What recourse did any of them have against a phantom like this?