CHPT36

Harris pulled at his shirt collar uncomfortably as his plump superior dropped into the large, cushioned chair and stared at him expectantly. The furious gleam in his eye told the former general's right hand man that he was not happy about the unfortunate circumstances.

'Harris, explain.'

'W-well your Excellency, it seems that S-Sonny-'

'I don't want to hear about Sonny Blackbones!' he bellowed, bringing his fist down hard on the large desk, causing the water in his glass to jump and trickle over the edges.

'I want you to tell me how our plan to poison the boy, not only failed miserably, but was but a minor inconvenience to that damn president!'

'I a-apologise, it seemed foolproof-'

'Only a fool like you could mess this up, Harris! I expect you to report back to me in twenty four hours with a new plan that even you couldn't screw up!'

'Y-yes Sir.'

Harris scurried out of the office, trying to put as much distance between him and the duke as possible. He slumped against the door once it was closed, dramatically wiping a small layer of sweat from his forehead. Maddox wasn't nearly as frightening as Bleylock, but did have his moments. As he cautiously made his way to the makeshift office, he couldn't help but think how this was all so strange; once, Duke Maddox despised Bleylock and what he stood for. Granted, his concern was simply for the image of Technoid and how damaging it would be for his reputation if a rogue employee attempted galactic domination, but the moment Benson had come to the general and revealed that Zain had a son he would no doubt die for, even the chief executive of Technoid was nipping at Bleylock's heels to get what he wanted. Ah, the typical businessman.

'Well, might as well get to work,' Harris sighed, racking his brain for another plan that would satisfy his highness.

'Dad, no.'

'Son, you can't come looking like you've just rolled out of bed.'

'Okay, one, I have just rolled out of bed, and two, I didn't want to go in the first place.'

'Oh hush, we need to put a stop this ridiculous journalism, now hold still.'

Micro-Ice pouted as his father pulled a sky-blue tie over his head, twisting the two ends over each other and forming a perfect knot.

'I look stupid. Footballers aren't supposed to wear suits!'

'You're the son of the president first and foremost, now put on the jacket.'

Zain failed to restrain a chuckle as Micro-Ice sullenly pulled on the expensive suit jacket and glared at his father. Honestly, the boy cleaned up nicely; even if his hair gave away the obvious indication that he didn't belong in this attire.

'Are you ready to go, boys?' Mana asked as she marched in, her new heels clicking on the wooden floor.

'We're ready Mana.'

The middle aged woman looked at the two in front of her; to her amusement, they were wearing matching grey suits.

'You two look adorable,' she snickered, pulling a camera from the black clutch bag, which matched her business-like dress.

'Mooom,' the teenager whined, shooting his father a death glare.

'I thought you might like it, Mana.'

'You traitor.'

'Leave your tie alone, son.'

'Don't you even-'

'Smile!'

Micro-Ice stopped mid-sentence, the blinding flash from the camera distracting him. He watched as his mother smirked at the photo before popping the device back into her bag and turning around, fully intending to send it to every family member she could think of.

'Well, let's go,' Zain smiled, leading the small family through the door of the hotel, through the swarm of reporters trying to slyly sneak even a snippet of information out of the three and into the limo, turning to his son as he gave the signal for his driver to speed off towards the large conference hall.

'Now son, I'm assuming that I don't need to go over how to behave when the whole galaxy is watching you?'

'Stand quietly beside Mom, shoulders back, head high, hands clasped behind my back, speak only when spoken to,' he said in one breath, sucking in a greedy lungful of air and finishing, 'and don't fiddle.'

Zain smiled in satisfaction as his son blurted out what was expected of him today without hesitating.

'See? Who needs Math when you know how to stand quietly for hours on end listening to your old man speak?'

Micro-Ice muttered some incoherent, irritated thoughts as the limo sped towards the hall which was, not long ago, the sight of a warzone.

D'Jok settled beside Mei on the large couch in the Snowkids' lounge, wrapping an arm around his girlfriend and dropping the popcorn on his lap. Rocket flicked the holo-TV on with the flick of a button on the remote. The screen flickered to life, revealing Callie Mystic standing in a large hall surrounded by other well known journalists.

'I thought Callie Mystic was a sports reporter, what's she doing at a conference?' Thran asked out loud, loudly slurping his soda.

'Who else could weasel information out of politicians like her?' D'Jok scoffed, still a bit bitter about her news report on his new outfit.

'Shh! It's starting,' Tia scolded, turning to the screen to see three people making their way onto the stage.

As they watched Zain make his way to the micro-phone, D'Jok's jaw hit the ground at the sight.

'Is Micro-Ice wearing a… suit?' D'Jok squeaked.

'You didn't expect him to go in his jersey, did you?' Tia scoffed, the idea absurd to her.

'Oh yeah, just 'cause you know all about politics.'

'Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for attending this-'

'It's starting!'

'We know that Mei,' D'Jok sighed, trying to hear over his girlfriend's excitement.

'I am well aware that the recent news regarding myself and family may have come as a shock to you all.'

The Snowkids and staff scoffed.

'However, I am sure that you are aware that even we need our privacy. I regret to inform you that just this week, my son's hotel room had been broken into, swarmed and torn apart by journalists who have been issued a restraining order. This sort of behaviour will not be tolerated by any of you!'

Those occupying the lounge in the Snowkids' hotel were slightly taken aback by the venom in the man's voice. The camera zoomed in to reveal the other two members of the small family looking at each other in surprise.

'Told you he was overprotective,' Shiloh snorted, relaxing back into the cushions of the sofa, all the while thinking how welcome of a surprise it was to see Micro-Ice in a suit as opposed to his usual worn out hoodie and tracksuit bottoms.

'If you choose to ignore this warning, I am afraid action will need to be taken to ensure the safety of my family. Therefore, if anything like this happens again, I will be forced to cancel news coverage of the final in several days' time.'

The camera once again turned to Micro-Ice, who gaped at his father. It wasn't until his mother gave him a nudge to the ribs that he was able to compose himself. The faces of the Snowkids and staff were one of pure horror.

'He… He's not serious coach,' D'Jok shuddered.

'Is he?' Rocket asked, turning to Aarch.

'Are there any questions?'

The screen came alive with screaming journalists who were dying to get new information from the powerful politician.

'Steven Moore, ZTV News.'

'This question is for Micro-Ice.'

Micro-Ice looked towards his father nervously, shuffling towards the microphone and clearing his throat when Zain gave the go-ahead-signal, recoiling when hundreds of bright flashes threatened to destroy his eyesight.

'Okay… Erm, go ahead, I guess?'

'Micro-Ice, do you feel obliged to take over as president when your father retires?'

'I wasn't planning to-'

'Do you feel that your football career is suffering due to your reported illness?'

'I don't think-'

'How has family life been since you discovered that President Zain was your father?'

'I've always known th-'

'What can you tell us about the scars on your wrists?'

'M-my wrists?'

'Are you a self-harmer?'

'What? No! I-'

'Okay, that's enough!'

Zain stormed to his son's side, taking the microphone from him and glaring daggers at the press as Micro-Ice stalked back towards his mother. Zain stormed off the stage without another word, taking his stunned ex-wife and son with him. Before he descended the steps, he turned once more towards the gossip hungry press.

'I do not appreciate less than sympathetic attitudes towards my family. If you choose to cross that line again, I will not be as lenient as I am being today.'

With that, they were gone.