Forgotten

Prologue

Concentrated power has always been the enemy of liberty.

~Ronald Reagan

She was utterly alone.

She smiled to herself; of course no one was there. No one would even dare to step foot in a one-mile radius of the building in fear of punishment. Or death. Or both.

A small black sparrow fluttered through the air, jabbering excitedly, when it flew too close to the building's security field. The field activated, shimmering blue as it shielded the building, and the sparrow crashed into its side. The bird let out a single pained squawk and fell to the cement with a dull thunk.

Really, she couldn't blame everyone for being terrified.

Confidently, she strode over to the red and silver skyscraper in front of her, a building that she knew all too well. It was a foreboding building, one that intimidated others enough to send them fleeing, even though they did not know what it held. Just the mere mention of it could send shivers down people's spines.

It had been built where the White House in America had once stood. True, she favored the United Kingdom, but she felt that the country, the one all about peace and democracy and all those worthless things, could use her help especially. She had specifically instructed the builders to set the building down there, because it was hilariously ironic, needing a whole group of pathetic blokes to run a small portion of the world when one woman could rule it all singlehandedly.

She pressed her palm on the cool metal surface of the building's doors, waiting. There was a shudder, and she took off her hand. The door slowly rose, revealing a dark room.

As soon as she stepped inside, they silently came back down, sealing the entrance. The lights flickered on. It was silent, except for the rhythmic beat of her high heels, echoing each time her feet struck the tile floor as she strode past. It was as if she was gracing the building with her appearance, leaving it awestruck at her powerful presence. She turned at the end of the corridor, walking a meandering path memorized by heart, that went further and further underground.

Eventually, she reached a large door. Stuck on its middle was a box with a small lens. A bright white light emanated from it, scanning her body. A few seconds later, the box robotically intoned, "Access granted," and the doors slid open.

What they revealed was the dimly-lit executive boardroom, all the chairs filled except for the large one at the end, which was reserved for her. As soon as her face was recognizable out of the shadows, the others gathered in the room automatically recited cheerily, "Good morning, Mrs. Kabra. Have you fared well?"

"Of course not," she snapped. "I had to cut my massage thirty minutes short and consequently miss my manicure session for this emergency meeting. I'll have to reschedule now . . ."

One of the men near her stood up quickly and pulled out her chair for Isabel, then pushed it back into the table gently after she'd primly seated herself in it. Another man handed her a cup of Earl Grey tea. She took a long sip, set it down on the table, and requested, "Chrissy Collins? Read me the agenda for the emergency meeting."

A tan, skinny young woman, clad in a grey skirted business suit, stood up, holding a few typed papers in her hands. Isabel had once considered her a wonderful candidate for her son's spouse-to-be, even though Chrissy was four years older than him.

That is, before he turned soft and had to be eliminated.

Chrissy cleared her throat softly, and smoothed out the wrinkles in her suit. Then she began, "This is the agenda for the emergency meeting of Mrs. Isabel Kabra and her Executives, April 15, 2308. First and foremost is the speculation of a growing resistance, which is leaving signs of their existence around the world. Then we will move on to the general agenda, hearing any reports that any Executives have and any other concerns that may be voiced. We will then close." She handed the papers to Isabel, who accepted them graciously.

Then she realized what was really being said.

Isabel took a deep breath through her nose. "What is this talk of a resistance?" she inquired calmly. "And why has my staff been so ignorant of my flawless regime to allow one?" Isabel turned to the man on her right. "Dmitri? Care to explain?"

The stolid dark-skinned man stood, warily watching her expression. "Well, it seems that, unlike the other prominent rebellions formed centuries ago, this one has acted, well, underground."

Her face remained blank and expressionless. This was a bad sign. "And why is that a dilemma of enormous proportions?" she deadpanned sarcastically, pursing her lips. She bore holes in him with her eyes.

Dmitri tugged at his tie, turning red in the face. "W-well you see, M-Mrs. Kabra—"

"The problem is that this resistance is growing stronger by the moment, Mrs. Kabra," Chrissy interrupted. Dmitri looked relieved. "This one especially. It's large enough to overthrow anyone in this room.

". . . It's powerful enough to overthrow you."

At that instant, Isabel stood up quickly, her fists balled. "Did you dare say what I think you did?" Her pale fingers traveled down to her holster, which she fingered threateningly. "Do you want to die, Chrissy? Because it looks like you're absolutely begging for it."

"No, Mrs. Kabra," Chrissy muttered and scurried back to her seat. Isabel stared at her for an insufferable long time, then finally shifted her gaze.

"Cowards," she hissed. "There is something that you say is the most powerful resistance of all time, and I'm dealing with cowards."

"We're sorry, Mrs. Kabra," Chrissy mumbled tremulously. She shot a glare at the others, who followed suit and muttered apologies.

"If you're sorry, then show me," Isabel replied shortly.

Chrissy glanced at her colleagues and stood up. The others followed suit and put their hands to their chests. Together in one voice, they recited monotonously, "I pledge allegiance to Isabel Kabra and her wondrous reign, which has prospered for centuries and centuries to come."

Isabel smiled, but it looked like a demonic grimace on her. "Very well recited." Chrissy let out a sigh of relief and took a seat. With quick glances at Isabel's right-hand woman, the others sat down.

"So: resistance. Enlighten me," Isabel drawled. She propped up her head on her hands in a fake act of interest. Her eyes scanned the room and landed on Dmitri. "You: explain."

He appeared frightened. "It's…um, th-there are many bases all around the world. It's quite underground, and the only way that we can determine that they are there is that there are people disappearing from several sectors on the Network. The resistance is off the Network, which, frankly, I can't understand, because of the security installed all around the Network.

"We've tightened the security measures, and there have been a significant decrease in disappearing people. But there must be a way that they've been crossing the Divide, where the chances of crossing it are extremely slim to nonexistent." Dmitri stared at Isabel with wary eyes, waiting for approval.

She gave him an almost imperceptible nod, and he leaned back in his chair, comforted by the slightest notion that she was satisfied.

Isabel sipped her Earl Grey again and turned to her foremost assistant. "Chrissy? Anything else to add?" Chrissy shook her head.

Isabel drained the rest of her tea and let out a refreshed exhale. "This is what I propose: we send Lucian spies and have them infiltrate the bases. They will obtain information and then send word to us when they are finished. We come destroy them, and use the information to track down the other bases."

"But how are we supposed to find the bases?" Chrissy countered.

"You said that there are some people that travel in and out of the Network and the Outside, crossing the Divide and presumably taking people to the Resistance Bases?" Chrissy nodded. "Obviously, our spies will befriend those people and travel with them to the Bases."

There was a silence. "Genius!" Dmitri cried out, applauding. "Our leader is supreme!" Everyone joined him, and Isabel basked in her glory.

It felt good to be the most powerful woman in the world.

…Now, I understand that many—no, most—of you are probably confused. What is that building? Who are the people? Why is it the year 2308? Isn't Isabel supposed to be in jail? How is she even alive now? What's the Network? What's the Divide?

I'm not answering any of those questions. Yet.

They will either be answered in the next chapter or two, or you can assume the answer from the text. Note that one of this story's genres is Sci-Fi, and that it is stated that the story is AU in the summary.

But if you still don't get it by Chapter 3 or so, feel free to ask in a review and I'll PM you back. :)

…Actually, you won't know the answer to 'How is Isabel even alive now' until much later. It's part of the plot. But whatever.

Thanks to music4evah, aka Mona, who beta-ed this for me. Lots of others looked over this for me, too. :) But I forgot… :( Sun Daughter, aka Summer, looked over it, I remember. She said there was no mistakes, so. ;D

I'm not updating this in a while, because I'll be going to a church retreat in about two hours. That's actually why I published this now, to tide you guys over until next week or the week after.

Reviews are loved. This is actually my most important writing project right now, so praise is loved, constructive criticism is definitely welcome, and flames are accepted, of course.

Thanks for reading!

~Joyce

PS: This will also be the first multi-chapter in a trilogy. The Resistance Trilogy. xD Haha, thoughts?