So here is the start of the second arc. and yes, i know what you could be thinking
dammit! what took you so long!
but hey. at least i posted it.
anyways, as promised i shall answer questions.
glowie: They don't try to escape or anything because, first of all: natsuki is kind of being brainwashed and also because she has an implant in her brain which could mean if she pisses them off all they have to do is push a button and she goes bye, bye. As for shizuru she kind of owes her life to youko and therefore feels the need to be loyal to her even if she doesn't like it at times.
shiznats: my question to you is...are you?
lolanimegirl: (hands over a kitten) i apreciate your review. and i know how you feel. laziness is also my enemy, thats why i kind of understand the lurkers. for i myself am a lurker/writer.
NSKruger: more powers will be revieled as the story progresses. (not really . ) also this story will not go into the whole mai hime theme and such. I never really understood mai hime even though i watched it a million times.
Krampus: it works. Anyways your question, the whole concept of the mind really intrigues me, and the fact that it controls your whole body makes it even more amazing. heres a nice tidbit: did you know that people only use like 5 percent of their brain, even einstein only used about thirteen percents ( and he was like a freaking genius), and supposevely the brain is so freaking smart that there are some parts of the body it lets you control and some it controls itself like your heart beating or breathing. Imaging what we could do if we could use 100 percent of our brain. anyways i'm ranting here but about the W hotel its supposed to remain to the readers imagination.
I think thats all the questions and thanks to all the others who reviewed. KNOW ON TO THE STORY!
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
The United Nations Middle Eastern summit attracted a large number of protesters, as epected, but the media kept most of their coverage focused on the conflict brewing inside the UN rather than on the street. Viewers can look only so long on a nineteen-year-old woman with stringy hair waving a banner that reads "The president kills babies." Chris Abraham thought, flipping through channels.
In his way of thinking, such slander should have to defend itself with logic. Even minimal logic. No panel jurors in the country would convict Randy Stenton of killing fleas, much less babies. And yet too frequently, highly educated journalists reported such accusations as serious charges worthy of attention.
He should have gone to New York, even though he could not stop whatever might happen. Now all he could do was pray that God would save those who needed saving and let the rest find their own way.
He sat on the couch in his Connecticut home and switched the news. The president was holding a press conference. Chris turned the volume up.
President Stenton was saying, "...that I strongly objected to forcing israel into a corner where her national defense rest in the hands of a foreign government, which is what the United Nations would be doing in this situation. As I see it, the Rosfez initiative threatens Israel's sovereignty."
Steven Ace of NBC asked, "Sir, the United States is now the only country that opposes the plan. Does that fact pose any problem for you?"
Stenton rplied, "Uniting world opinion always poses problems. Clearly we have a ways to go. But when it comes to standing up for an ally that's facing potential extermination, I think those problems are worth grappling with, don't you?"
"I have a follow-up, if that's okay," Ace said.
"Go ahead, Steve," Stenton replied.
"I understand that there's growing support in congress for the initiative. Are there any plans for a congressional vote on the matter?"
"No," Stenton said, excusin himself with a nod. "Thank you, that will be all." With that, the most powerful man in the world stepped away from the flashing lights and walked through a blue curtain behind the podium.
Chris grinned. That's it, Randy. No mincing words.
Then again, they both knew that the president was indeed being strong-armed to reconsider by members from both sides of the aisle. Randy had told Chris two days earlier that the price he was paying for his immovability was turning out to be much highew than he'd expected. There was talk on Capitol Hill of shelving his domestic agenda altogether.
World opinion boiled down to what each government thought of the United Nation's charter. In this new role suggested by Rosfez, the United Nations would become the strongest government in the Middle East. Why the leaders of Europe and Asia didn't feel threaten by this was beyond Chris.
Unless, of course, they saw Israel as their enemy as well.
Chris sighed and switched to another news channel. Protester coverage.
Another channel. Commentary on the president's brief conference.
Another channel. ABC was interviewing none other than Simm Rosfez outside the Fordwal-Aristoria, where the UN was hosting several major social events for the dignitaries.
Chris sat back, crossed his legs, and pressed the DVR record button. The Iranian was tall and gaunt with eyelids that hung lower than most. Fair skin and Dark hair, clearly of Persian descent. That the Iranian minister of defense had worked his way into the spotlight with this transparent initiative disgusted Chris.
Rosfez was answering the question with a polite smile.
"Naturally, it's unacceptable. But we believe that the United States will soon see the wisdom of stopping the ongoing bloodshed in the Middle East through this peace initiative. You cannot turn your back on suffering for too long."
"What will you do if the United States vetoes the initiative at the summit?" the ABC anchor asked.
A crowd of security personnel and reportes was gathered around the defense minister. A limousine door gaped open behind him, apparently waiting on him.
"We will not rest until we have peace. How can one man stand againts so many?" Rosfez answered. "Now the whole world will unite and bring peace where there has been no peace for centuries."
"Thank you, Mr. Rosfez."
"Thank you," he replied.
Chris saw the reporter, Mary Sanders, for the first time as the camera faced her. "There you have it..."
Chris muted the television. Another journalist in a black sports coat faced the camera, then abruptly turned her back and walked away. The woman was familiar to Chris, but then, so were the faces of a hundred reporters.
Stenton had a fight on his hands. The summit was clearly doing him no favors. Chris had expected nothing else.
But there was something out of place about that reporter in the sports coat. Strange how the memory worked. Deja vu?
Chris started to change the channel. Instead, he pressed the rewind button on the DVR. The reporter's face came and went.
Forward, slow motion this time. Chris paused the picture as the woman truned. He stared for five full seconds before recognition struck.
"No..."
It was her!
Chris stood, studied the profile on the screen. Could he be mistaken? His heart was pounding at twice its normal pace.
She was at the interview with Simm Rosfez. There, in New York!
Still gripping the remote control in his left hand, Chris ran around the couch and snatched up the phone. He dropped the remote on the desk. Dialed the president's number with a shaky finger.
"Dear Lord, help us..."
"Brian Macteary."
"Brian- Brian, it's Chris. I must speak to the president."
"Chris? Chris Abraham?"
"Yes. Please tell him it's important."
"I'm sorry, he's unavailable. Is there something I can help you with?"
"No, I have to speak with him. It's very important."
"I'm under strict orders not to interrupt them. He's just gone into a short meeting with the British prime minister. I can pass him a message when he comes out. Shouldn't be more than fifteen minutes."
Chris quickly considered his options and settled on the only course that presented itself with clarity.
"It's very important that you tell him something in the strictest of confidence. Tell him that I have reason to believe that there will be an attempt made on the life of Simm Rosfez. The security is tight, I'm sure."
"I've never seen more security." Brian paused. "You're saying that someone may be trying to kill the Iranian defense minister?"
"Yes."
"Nothing more? How-"
"Never mind how I know- tell him! I'm taking the first flight I can into New York. Tell him that."
"I should pass this through the Secret Service."
"No! Please, just tell the president and let him decide how to proceed."
"I'm obligated-"
"No, Brian. This isn't a formal threat. Just the president. Promise me!"
The president's press secretary was hesitant. "I'll tell him," he finally said.
yeah, i know. boring. but it builds up suspense.