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#8
FEB 07 |
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“Shout at the Devil”
The White House – Oval Office
Washington D.C.
“Man, if I had know how much useless paperwork this job included I’d have told the President exactly where to stick his offer. Now I’m doomed to an infinity of nightmares being chased by some weird paper mashie monster.” A hand came up and rubbed his fatigued eyes. The chair he sat in was growing more uncomfortable by the minute, and to make matters worse his ass would be planted in it for another half an hour as his wife handed him another manila folder.
“So much for this paperless world we seem to be championing,” she sympathized.
Vice President Pete Ross flipped the folder open and gave it a quick scan. “Looks like the U.N. wants to rescind the trade embargo on Bialya now that our forces occupy the nation and have Aayan Harjavti in custody.” Ross dropped the open folder on the large oval desk and sighed. “You know, in hindsight, I wonder if that embargo Lex and I pushed wasn’t partially responsible for causing Bialya to invade Turkey.”
Lana leaned on the desk, pushing the other folders out of her way. “What do you mean?”
“Hrm?” Ross was shaken out of a trance. “Oh, nothing really. Probably talking out of my ass like a conspiracy theorist.” Pete looked at his wife and smiled. He had known Lana Lang for what felt like forever; having been childhood friends since they were born back in Smallville probably had a lot to do with that feeling. Their romance was weird. It wasn’t exactly one that had cultivated over those years – as Lana had carried a torch for their other childhood friend Clark Kent – and neither had foreseen their marriage, but their decision to act on sudden feelings had been the best thing to happen to him. “So, what’s next?”
“Getting ready for Senator Pullman’s party.”
“Damn, I totally forgot. You sure there isn’t some nuclear crisis that needs my attention?” Peter’s jaw involuntarily pulled open to let out a yawn. “I’m not really in the mood for these partisan kiss-ass parties.”
Lana reached out and gave her husbands hand a light squeeze. “I know, hun, but they’re a necessary evil to keep people happy.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, I just wish Lex were here to go and not over there rubbing elbows in Pokolistan with other world leaders.”
His wife tried not to wince at the very mention of the President’s name. Lana Lang carried a burning fire of absolute hate in her soul for Lex Luthor; of course being kidnapped and tortured for hours on end would tend to have that result. Luthor tried to pry Superman’s secret identity out of Lana, but she never broke. Even her husband didn’t know the secrets she held. Lana wouldn’t be able to live with herself if something happened to Clark. It took amazing fortitude to live with Lex’s presence everyday.
“Why don’t you go up and get ready. I’ll meet you in about twenty minutes. I just wanna tie up a couple loose ends before we leave for the night.”
“Twenty minutes?” Lana teased as she stood.
“Yes, I promise.” Lana leaned over and kissed Pete on the forehead. Once he was alone Pete reached for the U.N. folder. Bialya was a small country, not very rich and had little industry or natural resources to speak of to help sustain it. By contrast, their neighbor Turkey was a big nation, pretty rich with a large industry and good resources to be one of the leading exporters in the region. “Damn!” he hissed as he slammed a palm on the table.
Peter’s mind was racing and he really wasn’t sure what to think? Maybe it was the long hours and the weight of the day numbing his mind, making him cranky. “Did that embargo force Bialya’s hand? Did we starve them enough to the point that Harjavti had no choice in attacking Turkey for the resources denied to them?”
Aayan Harjavti, the son of the buffoonish Colonel Rumaan Harjavti, was a story unto himself. He was a detainee in a secret detention center in one of the few bases the U.S. had in Germany. Then released when charges failed to be brought against him. During his incarceration, however, many of his family had been killed, collateral damage in precision strikes against terrorist camps. Aayan’s anit-U.S., extremist views couldn’t have been any better cultivated, and Bialya couldn’t have been left in any better of a situation leaderless after the latest crazy power, some stupid Queen Bee, was removed.
“Stop it, thoughts like that are dangerous.” There was a hint of disgust in his voice. “Screw it, take a shower and be with your wife.”
The door slammed shut and the Oval Office was vacant for the first time in hours.
Meanwhile, in another room on the opposite side of the White House, a woman sat alone in front of a wall of monitors. Right now the Oval Office stretched across all of the smaller screens taking up the whole wall.
Hope reached for a phone and punched the speed dial. After two minutes of ringing the other end picked up. “I think we’re going to have a problem.”
Pokolistan
He hated to admit it, but he loved the chandelier. It was ridiculously large, at least fifteen feet around at it’s largest and ten feet to its point. It was made entirely of crystal and, from what he could see, all the way down on the floor; the prisms cut was astonishing. The chandelier colorfully reflected the light onto everything around it and refracted the light within through a nearly infinite amount of surfaces to give it a soft white glow. Though, upon closer inspection, he couldn’t find the light source; the crystals themselves almost seemed to shine all on their own.
In fact, the crystal pieces seemed to slowly spin, even hover; yet he couldn’t find any strings that held it all together. “Absolutely exquisite,” he muttered to himself. It angered him that an adversary owned something like this when he didn’t. He made a mental note to devote some of his resources in creating one just like this, only less alien.
“Let me guess: the chandelier, right?” a male voice asked.
Lex never took his eyes off the decorative light fixture as he addressed the man. “Why, Clark Kent, I never figured you for an chandelier aficionado.”
The reporter grinned. “I kinda have a thing for crystal.”
Luthor finally turned away. “So what brings the Daily Planet here tonight?”
“Probably the same as you: check out what this new regime is about. Find out what happened to Presidente Barsharak, is he in exile, was he killed?” Clark adjusted the rims on his nose. “After all the years of civil war, this resolution happened way to quick.”
President Luthor nodded. “Yes, I agree and I think the answer to your questions is coming shortly.”
A hush fell over the crowd of dignitaries representing various countries all around the world. From the second floor balcony that overlooked the gigantic ballroom stood a man in a black biosheath, with a white flowing cape cut over his shoulders that ended inches off the floor. His hands gripped the marble rail and his eyes scanned the crowd. Then, to the amazement of nearly everybody there – minus two – the man hovered up and over the rail and slowly over the crowd.
“I would like to welcome you here to my home. My name is General Dru-Zod and I am the one who brought order and peace to this once torn, violent nation,” he said as he began to make his descent. His arms were pinned behind his back.
Lex Luthor was not impressed. He had expected these style shenanigans from his host. Lex took a moment to glance at Clark Kent, who still stood next to him, and for the first time of the night he was intrigued when he saw a look of vague familiarity in the reporters’ eyes.
“As guests of Pokolistan I wish all of you have the opportunity to explore what we have to offer,” the General finished as he settled his feet onto the floor. “So, please, enjoy yourselves.”
General Zod was a good thirty feet away from President Luthor and he still felt so close to the alien that a shiver ran up his spine in disgust. “If you will excuse me, Mister Kent.”
Luthor moved through the crowd, doing little to interact with those he barely considered to even be ten levels behind him, let alone consider his peers. The General seemed to be talking to the President of Russia, and what he was saying clearly was making the Russian angry as Putin’s head flushed red.
Now all Lex needed to do was wait.
General Zod abruptly paused mid-sentence. His head slightly tilted and his steel blue eyes darted to the side. There was somebody behind him. Ignoring the dignitary he was speaking with, Zod turned to come face to face with the President of the United States. Both men stood in silence as they scrutinized each other, trying to find any flaws in their façade.
“President Luthor. I didn’t think you would actually have the courage to accept my invitation. You constantly surprise me, even after all this time,” he said, alluding to his eventual freedom from the Phantom Zone.
General Zod could have sworn he saw amusement in Lex’s emerald eyes. “It has indeed been a long time since we’ve last talked, General Dru-Zod. It was all the more reason to accept the invitation to this little shindig of yours. I was curious about what you hoped this would accomplish? To intimidate, or impress, the rest of us inferiors?”
Zod’s facial expression darkened and he whispered. “Why do you say these things to me, when you know I will kill you for it? It is not a slave’s position to question my will, or power, let alone my existence. No human here could stop me from razing the flesh from your bones.”
“Now, I wouldn’t do anything rash General,” Lex absent-mindedly thumbed at a ring on his right middle finger. It looked a lot like an old college ring. “See, years ago I fashioned a ring made out of a rare meteor rock. It had a unique ability to mortality cripple certain unique individuals upon exposure to its radiation.” Luthor raised his hand and wiggled the fingers around. “Unfortunately, I didn’t realize at the time that prolonged exposure to the radiation also had a negative effect on humans. It destroyed my hand. Nearly killed myself.”
General Zod’s eyes narrowed at the ring and his brow creased in frustration. “Lead?”
“Yes,” Lex replied with a smile. “Lead is the one element that blocks the radiation, or in this instance contains it. So, you see that if you make one move against me I will open this ring and bring you to your knees in front of this entire room. The humiliation you feel before you die will be tremendous. In the event you use your alien powers against me, my body guard Mercy has similar jewelry and, trust me, she is more than capable of following through.”
Zod scanned Mercy quickly discovering the lead necklace strapped around her slender neck and resting between her breasts. Throughout the room Zod saw that the half dozen Secret Service agents also wearing various lead objects on their body that Lex didn’t tease him with. General Zod was not surprised. “You are an interesting human, President Luthor. If others of your species were like you I would have to re-evaluate my judgment of your pathetic planet.”
“I bet,” Lex smirked before adding, “if you’re calculating how long it would take you to rip these objects off my agents then I should warn you that every one of us is wearing a motion detector set for a being of your speed. You try anything to tamper with those objects and they’ll open to reveal their ‘treats’ automatically.” Lex swirled his martini around in its glass. “I wouldn’t feel bad; I’ve been playing cat and mouse with Superman for nearly a decade. I’d be remiss in my duty to not think of new countermeasures for your ilk.”
The smile that formed on Zod’s lips hid the seething anger that burned like a thousand suns in his chest. How dare this insect challenge him? However, the General knew that there was a time and a place for everything. Right now was not it. “You have proven your point. Have a good evening, President Luthor. It may be the last one you have.”
The General grabbed a handful of his white cloak and moved away.
From the other side of the room Clark Kent followed Lex’s movements through the crowd with a nearly imperceptible frown upon listening to his banter with Pokolistan’s new dictator. He disliked using his powers in such a covert fashion, even in a public space, but even he knew exceptions needed to be made. Unfortunately, listening to Lex and Zod meant he had to ignore most of Jimmy Olsen’s rant.
“…so then Lois tried hooking me up with that new intern,” Jimmy said as he focused his camera. “I mean, she was cute and all, but it turns out she was a lesbian. Took off with two other girls and left me with the check.”
Clark’s thumb rubbed the polished gold surface of his wedding band at the mention of his wife. It had been nearly two days since they talked, and even longer since they had seen each other. Despite being part of their professions – public or otherwise – and hardly uncommon these stretches of separation was something Clark felt he could never get used to.
“Then, there was this one girl I met over the Internet. I met her at her apartment, which was trashed and devoid of furniture. She was hot, looked a lot like Alicia Silverstone, but when she told me of the time she got gang banged it really turned me off.”
Amused, Clark replied, “As clichéd as it may sound, Jimmy, just give it time. The right one will come along without your help.”
“Try telling that to your wife. She’s already got me booked solid for two months.”
Clark laughed then noticed that Jimmy’s attention was diverted to somewhere over his shoulder. He turned and came face to face with General Dru-Zod.
The General started to make a motion that looked to Clark like a Kryptonian salute, but Zod stopped mid-gesture and rethought his action. “I’m sorry, I believe the custom on Earth is to shake hands.” The General extended his black covered hand and held it there. “No matter how long I’ve been on this planet I still find myself confused by the traditions.”
There was something fishy about the Generals conduct Clark thought. General Zod always held a sense of superiority, but it seemed different now. It was almost enough to make Clark think twice about accepting the dictators greeting, but he felt it better to keep up appearances. “That’s totally understandable, General, I could only imagine what it must be like for you to be removed from your native environment and culture.”
With the reporters hand firmly in his grasp the General squeezed Clark’s hand as they shook, hard enough to crush bone to dust. Clark never flinched as the General’s smile grew by millimeters, but in Kent’s mind the smile stretched from ear to ear. “Yes, I’m sure you could. That’s why I wanted the Press here. I wish to be interviewed so the whole world can know me, and know what I have done here for Pokolistan.”
“Then how about now, General? The Daily Planet would love to have an exclusive with you.” Clark pulled free from Zod’s hand suspicious to why Zod would keep his cover safe.
“No, I’m afraid that won’t be possible. I believe I have to meet a very important dignitary in my throne room rather shortly. In the future, however, if you wish for that exclusive you’re more than welcome back to my nation. You can even stay here in my castle.”
Clark’s demeanor darkened as he fought to maintain composure. “I’ll be sure to tell my Editor of your generous offer, General Zod.”
General Zod nodded his consent then moved away across the party floor.
“Jesus, C.K., that was amazing,” Jimmy exclaimed as he looked down at the digital display of the picture of his partner with General Zod. “Perry’s gonna love…” Jimmy looked up to find that Clark Kent was no longer anywhere near him, “…this?”
The photographer paid it little thought and shrugged it off like the hundreds of other times the reporter would mysteriously disappear. Jimmy turned back to the bar and flagged down the bartender. “Another Jack and Club please,” he smiled at the Argentinean attaché that slid next to him, her red dress looked absolutely tantalizing on her olive skin. “Please allow me to get that,” Jimmy reached into his pocket to pull money out.
The woman smiled. “It’s a free bar,” she said as she took her fresh drink in hand.
Olsen blushed. “Oh, right,” he offered the Latin woman his hand. “Jimmy Olsen, I’m a reporter for the Daily Planet.”
She just smiled, then swept her drink off the counter and returned to the floor. Jimmy turned to watch the woman leave, then leaned his elbows against the bar and sighed. He felt a little movement in his pants as his eyes studied her curves. Defeated, Jimmy turned back and took a sip from his drink. The bite from the Jack Daniels felt good. “It’s gonna be a long night Olsen.”
It took minutes for the General to enter his massive throne room with Faora in tow behind. Zod wasn’t disappointed when Superman took the hint to follow his exit from the party to meet him up here in private.
“General Dru-Zod, have a moment*?”
(*All speech translated from Kryptonese.)
Faora stood five paces behind the General so he couldn’t see the frown that formed at his command. “Leave us, Faora. Attend to my guests. I shall join you shortly.” She faded to semi-transparent and slowly sank through the floor without protest. Her anger rose inside in contrast.
A black arm appeared from under the white cape and motioned to the floor. “Please, join me, Superman. I have been looking forward to the day where I finally have you in my presence.”
Superman’s face was hard like concrete as he stared through General Zod, unsure of the General’s motives. Yet, he effortlessly descended from the sky and settled onto the balcony that jutted out on the side of the stone castle. Superman’s powerful fists were clenched so tight he could have crushed diamond to dust.
“How?” Superman’s question was laced with steel.
General Zod looked at Superman for a couple seconds in silence, sizing up his genetic brethren, and then smiled. His eyes locked with Superman’s in a battle of intimidation. Zod was impressed when Superman didn’t flinch. “It was written all over you. What others see as confidence and strength, I see as restraint and discipline. You may have lived your lie of equality with these inferiors for so long that masking your true identity comes second nature, but they do not see it because their feeble minds cannot comprehend the power at your disposal.” Zod pinned his arms behind his back casually and took two steps closer to Superman. “You have the power to shatter this planet with nothing but your bare hands, and only those who share that strength and restraint could read the tells in your body language.”
Superman’s gaze never wavered from Zod’s as he wondered if he could believe the General’s explanation. Try as he might he disliked the fact that he couldn’t reasonably disprove anything Zod said.
“So you really are Kryptonian,” he stated as he crossed his arms across his massive chest.
“Of course I am. I would not pretend to be anything less.” There was almost a hint of disgust in Zod’s voice at the thought. “The symbol for hope, how appropriate,” Zod noticed the red and yellow crest on Superman’s barreled chest. “From what I understand you are a champion of these chaotic inferiors. You wish to give them hope, but all I see is a world that throws that hope right back in your face in favor of self destruction.”
“And yours,” Superman noted Zod’s own gold crest, “the symbol for strength. From what I have observed here it is likewise appropriate. You have these people beaten down and broken; living by your order and mandate like a dictator.”
The General’s head tilted. “You are wrong. All I have done is introduce order to chaos. In return for my protection all I ask for is their obedience like any leader would. Even your beloved United States demands obedience, just in a much more passive manner. Under my rule I have eliminated the need for greed by doing away with their weak paper money. I have eliminated crime. My citizens are healthier and stronger by receiving the same medical attention. I have eliminated labels making every citizen equal, as they are all inferiors. Everything these savages were killing themselves for before me is meaningless now.”
Zod moved past Superman to stand at the edge of the balcony that overlooked the majority of the small nation. “More importantly, I will turn them from savages to enlightened as I increase their knowledge and open their eyes to science and technology,” Zod turned back to Superman to drive home his last point. “Much like our own Krypton was.”
“What happens when Pokolistan is not enough?”
“I guess we will have to wait and see.” The General pulled his white cape around his body, and walked back into the room as he headed towards the exit. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have a party I must return to. I trust you can find your way back on your own.”
Superman lifted off the balcony. “We are not done with this, Zod.”
Zod’s gaze shifted back to Superman. “No, we are not.” He then left the throne room through the giant wooden doors. Superman hovered for a second longer, before levitating away.
Washington D.C.
Peter Ross leaned back in the plush leather seats in the back of Cadillac One and rubbed his aching head. He had vowed he wasn’t going to drink at all during the party thrown by Senator Bob Pullman, but the first Seven/Seven he had at the beginning of the night went down way too smooth paving the path for God knows how many more that followed.
His wife, Lana Lang, squeezed his other hand, offering him a small amount of support. “I told you to slow down.” Her voice had a hint of humor in it.
Unfortunately, Pete Ross’s veiled answer held no humor, “Trust me, if you had to deal with what I did today you’d feel slightly inclined to get ‘bombed’ too.” The interior lights were mercifully dimmed to match the night hour outside of the armored Cadillac DTS, but Pete still felt a slight pain behind his eyes.
Across from the couple sat their paired Secret Service agents, who still felt the need to wear their black sunglasses inside the vehicle. What few knew was that the micro-circuitry in their glasses allowed them to view the feed from the night-vision camera to see the outside.
Lana smiled and brushed a couple strands of red hair off her bare shoulder. The black strapless dress, that she filled quite nicely, was beginning to feel tight around her waist, but she tried to ignore it. “C’mon, Senator Pullman may be an ass, but the man sure knows how to throw a party.”
Despite his feelings Pete smiled. “You’re right, but it’s not entirely that. Either way, it can wait until Lex returns from Pokolistan.” His drunken mask helped cover his darkening face as he thought about the files he discovered earlier this morning.
A quarter mile down the road, unknown to the small motorcade that escorted the Vice President back to the White House, a lone figure stood on top of a tall business tower. {Zoom: 200%} The green tinted night vision displayed the seven-car caravan still an eighth-mile away from him. The Cadillac DTS stood out amongst the smaller town cars. The zoom shrank out as he began to mentally calculate the speed the limousine was traveling, wind speed and his trajectory down over thirty-stories.
It took minutes and the limo was still two blocks away when the figure took a running leap off the building and plummeted straight down. When it crashed down through the hood of the limousine it was like the hammer of God slammed down from the heavens. The rear of Cadillac One was thrown nearly eight feet in the air before it slammed back down on the street. The driver and passenger in the front were dead immediately upon impact.
Inside Peter Ross and his wife’s momentum pushed them forward with invisible force when the limo was forced to a dead stop from forty miles an hour. They became a tangled mess of flailing arms with the Secret Service Agents. “What the Hell was that?” the Vice President demanded as he pushed himself back into his seat.
The answer would come soon as a metallic figure, shadowed in the steamy mess of the destroyed 1000 BHP, 13.6 litre V16 engine, slowly rose out of the crumpled mess that used to be the hood. The fingers clacked against a piece of the hood and pushed it to the side.
When Peter Ross was younger the only movie that ever scared him was ‘The Terminator’; he had seen it as a teenager when it was released in the tiny Talon theater back in Smallville. The scene that stood out was when Sarah Connor cradled Reese in her arms shortly after a semi truck driven by the Terminator was blown up in an inferno. After a grueling night of fighting for survival Sarah felt comfortable that the nightmare was over…until the metal skeleton of the Terminator’s true appearance stood in the middle of the orange flames, adamant about following its directives. The close up on the reflective steel face was pure evil.
The similarity between that movie moment and when Metallo peeled back the five layers of armor in the roof wouldn’t have been lost to the Vice President if his mind wasn’t frozen in a split second of fear upon seeing that metal skull, and the cold red eyes stare down on him through the hole. When it spoke to him his soul chilled.
[Good evening, Vice President, I hope I’m not interrupting.]
President Luthor stood on the second floor balcony that overlooked the main floor; his emerald eyes scrutinized the alien General Dru-Zod. He observed his movements and gestures that were full of arrogance and confidence no doubt enhanced by the powers granted to him by this world’s sun. The primal fear hidden under the thin veil of respect shown by the other world leaders disgusted Lex. He took a sip from his dirty martini to wash down the bile that rose up his esophagus.
This place was full of people who feared and worshipped the cursed meta humans and Lex couldn’t help but find that completely unacceptable. If it were up to Lex, and don’t be too sure it wasn’t, he would eliminate every single meta from the Earth and erase humanity’s reliance on them. That reliance only made them weak and dependent. Humanity should seize their destiny clean of their dirty influence and Lex Luthor would lead them to it.
The President pulled an olive off the toothpick with his teeth and sucked the pimento out before chewing it. The emerald orbs drifted over the crowd until they settled on to a little thorn that constantly found its way into his side. Clark Kent ordered another soda from the bar as he chatted with the redheaded photographer, Olsen. The reporter was something of an enigma to Lex who saw an inexplicable confidence in the so-called mild mannered journalist. Maybe one day Lex would crack the man’s dark secrets.
He tugged slightly at his uncomfortable shirt collar then made a mental note to fire his tailor immediately upon returning to the United States. It was a pity, his tailor had tended to his needs for over twenty years flawlessly, but mistakes simply could not be tolerated.
A startling beautiful woman cut her way effortlessly through the crowd of the balcony level. Her blonde hair was pulled into a tightly woven braided ponytail that draped down her exposed back and ended at the small area above her ass. She looked slightly uncomfortable in the sleek black dress that hugged every curve of her hips, ass and breasts; leaving little of her well developed, toned and muscled body to the imagination.
Mercy was granted a wide berth, which the men were all too eager to give the second she entered their peripheral vision to admire her figure when she passed. A lot of the looks diverted when she stopped next to Lex Luthor.
“I have news,” she said.
Lex nodded his head and slid a thumb across a white noise emitter that was disguised as his white gold tiepin. A quiet whine preceded silence, as all sound was restricted from entering or leaving the three-foot radius created around the President.
“What?”
“Ross is alive. He’s in critical condition, being rushed to Georgetown University as we speak.”
Lex frowned. “Why?”
“The Martian Manhunter showed up and stopped Metallo from finishing the job. The cyborg managed to escaped capture.” Mercy’s face remained emotionless.
“We’ll deal with it. The damage is done, and Peter dead would only make him more popular. He’ll be forced into a medical induced coma if he’s not in one naturally long enough for us to gain control of this for our benefit.” The emitter started to beep, signaling that the battery was ready to die. The sound from the party flooded back into the space around the pair.
Lex wrapped an arm around Mercy’s hip pulled her close and directed them away. “Come, let us say ‘Hello’ to Prime Minister Blair.”
Ronald Reagan National Airport
Arlington, Virginia
Lois Lane sat in her chair at the airport, her leg folded over the other in a poor attempt to create a surface for her laptop to sit on. She focused on the words that appeared on the flat screen as her fingers flew across the keyboard in a blur. She tried to ignore the red lines that appeared under the words she misspelled, but they quietly mocked her inability to grasp the concept of spelling.
She reached for her Caramel Machiato from one of the four Starbucks spread out in the airport and took a sip as she read over the three paragraphs she just wrote. Lois’s fatigue started to catch up to her as her mind drifted off to envisioning her slipping between her comfortable silk sheets of her own bed that she’s missed for three days. Lois would have preferred returning home to Metropolis yesterday but Perry wanted her to cover Senator Pullman’s party while she was already here.
Inside her jeans pocket her phone buzzed as Justin Timberlake’s ‘Like I Love You’ began to play as her ringtone. She slipped her Motorola RAZR out and the caller ID was from the Daily Planet. Her thumb slipped between the seam and flipped phone open.
“Hello?”
“Lois, where are you now?” Perry White’s voice was harder than normal, and cut to the chase.
Lois’s face twisted in confusion. “I’m sitting in the airport waiting for my flight, why?”
“Then you haven’t heard the news yet?”
Lois looked around her for the closest TV about sixty feet away. All she saw was CCN reporter Soledad O’Brien chatting away muted. The text scrolling across the screen was too small to read. Not many others were paying any attention. “No, I can’t make it out from where I am.”
Perry hesitated. “I need you to forget about your flight and report to Georgetown University Hospital right away. There was an attempt on Vice President Ross’s life. He’s in critical condition.”
Lois gasped in shock. “Oh, my God,” her leg swept off subconsciously sending her laptop crashing to the ground. “I’ll be there as soon as I can!”
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To Be Continued...
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