(Verstand tanzt)

Dances of the Mind

Bourrée: Hot Stepping

Prologue

            "This way Mr. President!"

            As red lights blinked on and off and a blaring alarm wined, the secret service rushed the president off into a sturdy SUV, protected by a convoy of other SUVs and secret service agents.  Within minutes of the alert, the president was safely tucked away inside his vehicle and headed towards a rally point.  Perfect execution, putting into use several years of drilling, training, planning, and more drilling.  It went smoothly and without incident.

            Glancing back over his shoulder—and promptly thrust back down by an agent—the explosions could be heard getting softer.  A ringing noise brought the hands of the five agents in the vehicle to their coats, but they relaxed as the president answered his cell phone.  "Sir, are you okay?" a voice called over the line.

            "Bloody hell, Carl, what's going on out there?" President Morris asked.

            "Decepticon attack, sir," Carl Werner, Secretary of War, replied.  "We expected them to make some showing, but we weren't sure how interested they were in us.  Don't worry, sir, the military has already deployed forces to counter the threat, and I expect the Autobots will want a piece of them too.  The situation is under control."

            "You better damn well have it under control.  That's a civilian crowd out there.  Any innocent Americans hurt and you bet we're going to have a swarm of reporters to deal with.  And keep the property damage down?  The American economy will thank you."

            "I'll do my best sir."

            Sighing, the president tucked away his cell phone.  He glanced backwards and was once more suppressed by the bodyguard.  "You best stay down sir," the agent said tersely.  Nodding, the president tried to sneak a peek through the rear view mirror, but could only see the black SUV behind them, which carried a load of agents much more heavily armed than the personal bodyguards in his car.  Closing his eyes, he tried to get comfortable as the vehicle lurched from left then right and back again.

            Suddenly there was an explosion in the middle of the intersection ahead.  The car rocked as it whipped around in a J-turn, just missing the edge of the newly formed crater by a few feet.  As the car started to rocket off in the opposite direction, it was broadsided by some unknown object and began to wheel out of control.  The bodyguards tried to press the president down, away from outside view, but he was already thrown forward to the full extent of his seatbelt.  Then there was a huge crunching sound as the front windshield partially collapsed inwards.  The president was immediately whisked out of the vehicle by the bodyguards and into the acrid smoke of the outside.

            Outside the vehicle was total chaos and confusion.  People were screaming as they ran to clear the streets, which were filled with smoke, debris, and ash.  The sounds of gunfire and the occasional explosion were very near and very real.  Bright flashes of green and red exploded upon the cement of street and building alike.  As he was being covered and shoved by his bodyguards, he managed a glance back where the SUV was.  It had hit a lamppost head-on and the entire front end of the vehicle had crumpled.  In the front two seats, two dark figures slumped, unmoving.

            There were, then, three agents left with the president.  As he looked around, he could see the flaming shell of an overturned SUV, as well as a number of black-suited bodies strewn about the ground.  Had the entire convoy been taken out?  A bright flash of laser fire and the agent covering the rear was no more.  Without pausing, the remaining two agents shifted their positions to cover all sides.  There was a high pitched whine as a shadow passed overhead with lightning speed.

            As if a godsend, a black SUV screeched up to them, the door opening to reveal one agent driving and two riding as passengers.  The two bodyguards shoved the president in the vehicle and began to climb in.  A high pitched whine and a few bright flashes, and the last bodyguard was struck, sending the SUV peeling off into the chaos that was once a city-street.

            "Thank god," President Morris sighed.  "What's your name?" the president asked the driver.  "Whatever you're getting paid, it's not enough."

            "Mariner, sir.  Ben Mariner.  I'm just doing my duty."

            "America thanks you, and hell I love you.  I feel safe in your hands."

Behind the dark sunglasses, Mariner smiled.  "I'm glad you do sir."

The other agents in the car were giddy and nervous.  Two of them still had their guns drawn.  "I don't like this," one muttered.  Another glanced out the window, up and down the street.  "We're too exposed," he muttered.  Then the car stopped in the middle of the next intersection.

"What the hell is going on," the agent in the front passenger seat said, turning towards the driver.  "Why are you stopping?"  The agents looked around almost frantically, glancing at one another as if waiting for one to take charge.  "Why are we not moving?" the president asked.  "What the hell are you doing?"

Four bright flashes and an intensely loud sound caused the president to shield his eyes.  Though both blinded and deafened, the president could most certainly feel the heat around him.  When his vision returned, he looked forward to see Ben extending his arm towards him.  Then the president identified the source of heat—the smoking hulks of the agents' bodies, all four of them.  "What..." the president stammered as he turned back to Ben.

Only then he noticed that Ben wasn't just extending his arm towards him.  There was a slender metallic tube jutting unnaturally out of his arm like some sickening compound fracture.  It didn't take long before the president recognized the smoking object as a small laser weapon.  Ben smiled, "Like I said sir, I'm just doing my duty."  Then all went black.