-Prologue-
The United States had never been a in a more perilous position. The stock market had crashed in 2029. What followed was nothing but misery for most of the population. There were areas of the city with no power and once where food was abundant, people were beginning to starve.
Amongst all of the turmoil at home, the US government had started another war. This time, Iran had reportedly fired a nuclear missile that wiped out a poor Israeli settlement. Israel declared war on Iran and the US followed soon after. With the help of Saudi Arabia and Turkey, the United States overthrew the Shah of Iran and President Ahmadi. The American public did not want this war but two hundred and fifty thousand of their soldiers along with ten thousand soldiers from other allied states were sent to seize and occupy Tehran.
Before the Great Crash had changed everything, Andrea had already been working for New York News Corporation as a junior reporter for a couple of years. Before that she had worked at Runway as Miranda Priestley's assistant.
Miranda was still married to Stephen at the time but that did not keep the two women from beginning an affair. First it was a look that lingered perhaps a bit too long. Then slowly the tension between them became unbearable and they were making out in Miranda small private restroom.
The prolific editor was so paranoid about Page Six or Stephen finding out, that she fired Andrea as her assistant immediately. She recommended her to one of the best news agencies in the city and she got the job at NYNC.
She grew closer to Miranda but it was not easy. For quite some time Miranda only felt comfortable getting together at a random hotel outside the city. Although Andrea hated it, she loved her too much to let her go. Miranda had promised to leave Stephen but she was beginning to have a hard time believing her.
With her work at NYNC and even more so with intimate relationship with Miranda, she met some of the richest and most powerful people in the world. She met lawmakers, bankers, celebrities and athletes. She even met the President of the United States a month ago. It seemed that there was no one of even the slightest importance that Miranda did not know.
Andrea was sucked into this crazy world of business, politics and power and she found it at times both intoxicating and infuriating. Miranda was powerful and brilliant and everyone around her could not help but admire her. Senators and CEOs all fawned over her. She absolutely commanded any room she was in.
The only thing Andrea really had in common with these kinds of people was their affinity for Miranda. Everyone else was just as in love with her as she was. It was intoxicating to know that at the end of evening she would be one that brilliant woman took home.
After a couple of years of hard work at NYNC Andrea had become a respected Financial Correspondent and Miranda finally divorced her husband. Not a month later, they were outed as a couple to the world when they were photographed kissing at a New York fashion week event.
The media was obsessed with them for weeks. They were getting phone calls asking for interviews and one even offered them an obscene amount of money to do a reality television show.
The media storm around them was ridiculous. Nearly everywhere they went they saw the photo of them with their arms around each other, and their lips locked in a clearly much more than friendly way. It was embarrassing and they felt completely invaded.
No one knew they had just fought before the picture was taken. No one knew that that kiss was after Miranda had finally confessed that she was in love with Andrea. It was a beautiful moment between them that they now shared with the world.
The two could hardly go anywhere without having their picture taken or being asked horribly inappropriate questions about their sex life. It was a nightmare for the two of them. It almost ended their relationship numerous times. Every nine months it seems the public becomes temporarily fascinated with them again and the nightmare repeats.
It is an ongoing battle that while largely unpleasant has brought them unprecedented popularity and success in both of their careers. They were both making more money than ever. Runway was selling more copies than it had in years and Andrea's articles were getting national recognition.
Andrea was warned numerous times that the Great Crash was coming. She wrote several articles about it but most of her work on the subject was never picked up on a large scale. The public interest wasn't there and her editor did not want to publish news that wasn't selling. He told her to stop writing about it.
It was ironic that a couple of years later she would be rewarded for her work before the Great Crash. Things were getting darker and darker in New York every day and she had predicted it. The articles she had to fight her Editor to publish made her the single most important journalist in the entire news corporation.
She had always loved her job but she had slowly begun to realize just how much bullshit was involved in it. NYNC was not meant to publish news, it was meant to sell it and sell a certain brand of it. She did not become a journalist to sell out to a big corporation. She was more determined than ever to bring the truth to the people.
The same year Andrea was being rewarded for her work, Miranda proposed to her. They had been living together for two years. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with Andrea.
They married in the spring of 2031 inside of Saint Patrick's Cathedral. It was an event that shut down 5th avenue for half of the day. Even the King and Queen of England were in attendance. Miranda and Andrea were on top of the world, never was there a time in either of their lives where they remembered being this happy. They were blissfully distant from the turmoil of the rest of the world.
The United States military was getting closer and closer to the Russian border and diplomatic solutions were refused at every point. Domestic terror attacks were on the rise. Subway stations, malls, busses and buildings were all vulnerable places to be in America after the Iranian war and the Great Crash. The big cities were the worst. There were always riots and the police were beating and killing civilians on a daily basis.
The US in the middle of the night bombed the capitol city of Moscow in Russia. Claiming the CIA had intelligence that the Russians were planning an attack on Tehran to push occupying forces out of the city. The Moscow bombings killed nearly two thousand of their civilians.
The Russians retaliated a week later, sending fighter drones to level what was left of Iran's Capitol. The bomb campaign killed thousands of American and allied soldiers and completely destroyed downtown Tehran. The United States had been so outraged by the attack that they bombed Moscow again and began a ground invasion of the city.
A starving and brutalized American public was losing their trust in their government. A majority of them viewed this war as completely immoral. They could not afford to give the government their money to fund it either. They needed every penny they earned to survive. The government had begun sending masses of people to prison for failing to pay their taxes and able bodied men were forced to join the military in order to pay off their tax debt.
It is cloudy as to who was responsible for what happened next. The US press claimed that the Russian government had engineered a super virus that wiped out all Internet capabilities across the country. Without the internet no one could access their bank accounts.
The truth about the virus was much more sinister than the average nightly news viewer could handle. The virus was not Russian, it was American. Fighting terrorism was not enough anymore. The public needed a better reason for a new world war and what better reason than the disablement of their internet?
The administration pumped up the pro war propaganda and unleashed the full might of the United States military. The President seduced a war weary public to join the biggest fight of the century. Believing that the Russians were responsible for their newfound turmoil, most sheep blindly followed their shepherd.
Congress declared war against Russia and at the very same time, reinstated the draft. Every capable man and woman must fight and with few exceptions. Those of dissenting opinions were silenced almost as soon as they spoke. World War Three was beginning.
1.
NYNC had published several stories recently covering a new wave of protests called Occupy the Streets that were taking place all over the financial district. Their numbers had grown significantly since war on Russia was declared. In just a couple of weeks hundreds of thousands of protestors turned into well over a million marching in the streets. Andrea had been attending every evening for the past several weeks.
The sounds of hundreds of thousands of voices roared as one against the line of officers stomping their way through a large group of protestors. White NYPD drones flew overhead, like great metal birds in the sky, shining spotlights into the crowd.
The little turret attached to its belly aimed at the moving bodies below it, zeroing in on faces, storing them into a memory bank for identification. It was a frightening sight. It was like war, it was like the prelude to a massacre. Andrea had never felt so terrified in her life.
A large truck rolled to a stop behind the thick line of policemen. It's size comparable to that of a tank. It was black and white with the words NYPD Police painted on the side, a large round dish, very similar to a satellite began to rise on top of the truck, and it aimed toward the crowd of protestors.
Andrea observed the people around her, they were crying, they were angry and scared. They looked confused and helpless but the determination to face this beast was clearly present in all of them. Some fled at the sight of the truck while others stood their ground.
Protesting is supposed to be a right guaranteed by the first amendment but Andrea knew, with as much peril as every city was in, the police will gladly take it away if they think it will restore order.
A single officer broke off from the line of police men, thrashing his baton left and right, hitting the limbs of protestors in his path. The crack of the weapon against flesh stung the ears of everyone around him.
"Get back, get the fuck back" the man screamed.
"Stop hitting them!" A random protestor yelled from the crowd. Several others parroted the same message, their hearts racing and crying out at the sight of the violence.
"Shut the fuck up and get back!" The officer screamed holding his baton above his head, his stance wide, threatening another blow to anyone who came near him.
In all the chaos a small black woman emerged from the crowd of protestors, tears pouring from her face.
"Please Officer! I can't find my son, he just ran off! Help me, please!" the distraught young woman screamed.
"If you don't back up, I will bash your head in" He screamed, shoving the young woman to the ground, delivering a series of blows to her small body just to prove his point.
A group of officers surrounded the young woman. One officer pressed his knee into her lower back, while two others forced her hands behind her back, then carried her off behind the line of policemen. It was a surreal sight. It made Andrea sick.
Andrea had never felt so much anger and injustice in her entire life. These people were being treated like rabid dogs. She knew these movements had been growing by millions all over the country and now she knew what they were really about and what was really going on here.
The line of policemen began advancing toward the crowd, marching like soldiers into the fray. The crowd wouldn't budge, frustrating several officers, who in return pulled out large canisters of mace and began spraying indiscriminately into the crowd. Andrea knew it was time to go.
She managed to shove her way through the buzzing, angry, crowd down the street a ways from the vehicle. She heard the awful pained screams of thousands of protesters. Everyone scattered, trying to escape an invisible burning they felt just under their skin.
The big truck seemed to be in the direct path of the heat, it had to be some new kind of microwave crowd dispersant. She ran quickly down the street. She heard the screams but never she felt the burning.
It was there that she saw a young man standing with a microphone held right up to his lips and yelling directily into it.
"Our masters wish us to accept our state without protest, we must show them we will not be beaten or starved. This is our city, we will take it back" the lanky man said passionately into the microphone.
Before Andrea could even get a decent look at the young mans face or take in the words he was saying she heard the sound of gunshots right next to her. She jumped where she stood and screeched. She saw the smoking barrel of a gun in the hands of a police officer. She watched the the man fall to the ground clutching at the holes in his chest.
"What have you done" Andrea screamed, and regretted it almost instantly when she too was looking down the barrel of the officers gun.
"Get you're hands up, let me fucking see your hands" The jump officers screamed at her.
Andrea immediately complied. Her hands shot in the air and she dropped her cell phone onto the cold asphalt.
"I'm with NYNC, I'm a reporter" She begged, she felt tears beginning to stream from her eyes.
She feared for her life. This man had just shot someone who from what she could see had done nothing but speak. She was scared to say any words but she hopes that what she had said would penetrate his paranoid mind.
"You shouldn't be down here" someone said behind her that she did not dare to turn to look at.
A female cop came up behind her and forced her hands behind her back and then tackled her to the ground. Her cheek and her forehead hit the ground. She writhed and moaned in pain as another officer piled onto her and forced her arms into an unnatural position.
Tears of pain and fear rolled down her cheeks hotly. Her head was starting throb where she hit it. She stared over at the young man they had just shot. He was already dead. His lifeless eyes stared endlessly at the scene and his chest continued to gush is blood onto his clothes. All Andrea could do was cry.
She was taken to jail that night. She shared a holding cell with about thirty other women. She had asked repeatedly for a phone call but was ignored numerous times.
She sat right next to a large black woman who she had overheard having a friendly conversation with one of the officers. She had been brought in nothing but tights and a small tank top. The heat was not working and the woman was visibly cold. Andrea wondered if she could get her a phone call if she did her a favor.
"Goddamn its cold in here, ain't the fuckin heat work? You'd think all these people you puttin in jail you could pay your damn bills and keep the heat on" the woman ranted loudly to no one in particular.
"Hi, excuse me. I'm Andy" she introduced her self awkwardly, the woman stared up at her.
"Names Alexis. What do you want?" she asked, looking her over and seeing that she was clearly not from this part of town.
"I dont know if you can help me but, there not letting me call anyone. If you think you could convince one of them, Id be happy to give you my coat"
"Is that right?" She said as she sat back and looked at Andrea even closer.
"Give me your coat" the woman said sternly.
Andrea was not sure if she was stealing her coat or but she took it off and gave it to her anyways. The woman slipped it on, it was a bit small for her but it still fit her well enough. It was an obscenely expensive wool coat that Miranda had given her last winter. She hoped the woman would hold up her side of the deal.
"Damn this is nice" she said as she wrapped her arms around herself.
"Yo, Andrew" the woman said as she got up and went over to an older officer standing outside the cell to speak to him through the bars.
The old man looked at her incredulously and then over at Andrea. He almost seemed to snarl at her but he did not argue with Alexis. He opened the cell and motioned for Andrea to follow him.
"You dont look like you belong in here young lady" he said as she followed him down the hallway.
"I don't" Andrea said quietly.
"You got two minutes" the man said as he walked away from the old bulky phones in the wall.
"Thank you, officer, Thank you" Andrea couldn't say enough.
She did not call Miranda. She had hated that she kept attending the protests. She knew she would get an earful after she finds out about last night. She called their driver Roy instead. He picked her up and took her to a diner to get some food. He did not ask her questions. They barely said a word to each other at all.
Andrea returned home late that night. It was ten o'clock when she rolled up to the town house. When she walked inside, it was only seconds later that she heard high heels clicking against the hardwood floor.
"Where the hell have you been, Andrea. Why have you not been answering your phone?" Miranda demanded as she rounded the corner, still dressed in her work clothes.
She looked worried. She looked like she probably hadn't slept the night before.
"I'm really sorry, Miranda. It was a bad night downtown" Andrea said as she sat her bag and her keys on the table in the foyer.
"I've been unbearably worried. What happened to you?" she asked, taking Andrea into her arms and combing her hair away from her face.
"Who did this to you" Miranda asked as she gently ran her thumb over a bruise forming on Andrea's cheek.
"The police were out of control. I witnessed them murder a protest leader last. They forced me to the ground and booked me for 'participating in a riot'"
"You went to jail last night? Jesus, Andrea. Why didn't you call me? " Miranda said as she let her young wife go.
"They wouldn't let me make a call and when they finally did, I knew you were at work, I just called Roy" Andrea said tiredly, realizing she hadn't slept in nearly 24 hours.
The older woman combed a frustrated hand through her short silver hair. She turned around and distractedly unlocked her cell phone. Andrea knew she was either looking up their attorney's number or the police chief's. She was probably trying to decide who to call first.
"Lets pray the press doesn't get a hold of this, they'll be a hundred of them on our front door step tomorrow morning" Miranda muttered as she began to climb the stairs.
She was happy to know Andrea was okay but now she was feeling incredibly stressed. She held her phone to her ear and listened for the ring. A stern young man answered.
'Miranda Priestly calling for Chief Huntington" She said calmly
Andrea sat down on the stairs in the foyer and cradled her head in her hands. She was completely exhausted. She could not get the image of the young protestor out of her mind. He was so full of spirit and hope. She could not un-see his lifeless eyes staring into nothing. It was too much for her mind to take. A well of emotion formed in her throat and she began to weep.
'Please have him return my call as soon as possible' Miranda said cordially as the man on the other line told her the police chief was busy.
"This is my job, Miranda, I have a responsibility to these people" Andrea said, her voice thick with fatigue and tears.
"You have no responsibility to me? I helped you build your career. I've been with you every step of the way. I've made sure you were safe and had everything you could ever need. Darling, I know as much as you empathize with them you do not want to be them" Miranda said coldly.
Andrea sat there in silence, taking in her words. She did not know what to say to her. She was making her feel worse. She did not look at the world the same way that Miranda did and it had caused many fights between them lately.
"What if it had been you that they shot? I couldn't live with that" the older woman's voice broke.
"Then it would already be front page news, wouldn't it? I don't even know this kids name" answered dismissively.
Miranda said nothing but sighed were she stood and straightened her posture. She already had a mountain of stress on her shoulders and it annoyed her that her wife insisted on piling onto it.
"I'm going up to my office" she said as she pulled off her glasses and soothed the flesh between her eyes.
"You are everything I've ever wanted and you have given me so much, Miranda. I don't resent you for that. But you don't support my work anymore. You talk about it as if it means nothing. You used to be my biggest cheerleader, I don't understand what changed" Andrea said as stood and faced Miranda on the stairs.
"Do you even care that I've been sitting here alone the past month while you go out there every night into that madness?" Miranda's voice was angry.
"Of course, I do Miranda. But you know how close it is to something big happening, my job has never been more important" the young woman tried to explain.
"I don't want to hear any more about these goddamn protests. Don't talk about what happened last night with anyone and don't you dare go back downtown" Miranda demanded.
"I am your wife, not your child or your employee. You will not forbid me to do a thing" Andrea said coolly.
After the night she had just had, the last thing she wanted was to argue with her wife. She stood to pass Miranda on the stairs. The older woman reached for the Andreas arm and pulled her close to her, making the girl look at her.
"You think things are bad now? Oh darling, things will get so much worse" Miranda said desperately, her eyes softened when she saw the pained look on her wife's face at her tight grip.
"I cannot lose you, Andrea. I need you with me. There's nothing we can do for those People" Miranda said as she let go.
She looked at Andrea, she could see the disgust in her eyes. She was sick with anxiety for reasons even Andrea could not yet understand. Miranda had many secrets. She has much more power than her young wife could imagine. Somehow she knew that this suffering was only beginning. She could not stand to face what was next without Andrea.
Her cell phone rang noisily in her hand and she answered it. It was the Police Chief calling her back. She gave Andrea a final remorseful look as she climbed the stairs and began to speak with him about what had happened downtown with her wife. She went to her office on the second floor and closed the doors.
'From what my officers tell me Mrs. Priestly, the young man was making violent threats and inciting a riot. It seemed your wife was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time'
'The officer that pointed the gun at my wife is to be fired, and all the other participating officers, do you understand me Chief?'
'No, mam I do not. I don't know who you think you are-'
'Do you realize, Mr. Huntington, that I'm having dinner with the Mayor tomorrow evening? I Shall I give him a call tomorrow morning?'
'Mrs. Priestly I don't appreciate the way your speaking to me'
'I don't appreciate my wife being roughed up and spending the night in jail. You will do as I Ask or I will have your job. That is your choice"
'I cant just fire an officer-"
'You can and you will fire many of them. I don't care what you have to do to get it done but you will'
There was a long silence on the other end. The chief was stubborn and he wanted with every fiber of his being to tell Miranda Priestly to fuck off but he could not afford to be out of a job.
'Do we have an understanding, Chief?'
He sighed in frustration and answered.
'Yes, mam'
'Excellent. I'll make sure the Mayor knows how helpful you've been.'
'One more thing, the young man your officer killed, what was his name?'
She could hear him breathing into the phone as he shuffled around things on his desk.
'His name was Sebastian Pike, he was twenty two years old. He was one of the better known activists of the anarchist movement. They're a very dangerous group'
'Thank you, that's all. Goodnight Chief Huntington'
'Goodbye Mrs. Priestly' he said annoyed.
She hated for Andrea to attend the protests but she'll be damned if someone puts a hand on her wife and gets away with it. She hoped what happened last night would scare her enough to keep her from attending another one. She knew the time was coming when her and Andrea would have to abandon this city. She just prays that her wife doesn't get herself killed beforehand.
