Look at how quickly I've updated! Isn't everyone amazed? See this is what happens when you get the combination of the summer holidays (with no work to do) and lots of lovely reviews from your readers (thank you all!). Oh and I'm sure I've read some book where the President is called Mr. President instead of by his name, but being English and not American I could be wrong and if so just ignore it! Anyhoo, hope you all like the next instalment of 'Excalibur'…(I'm sure the sword will actually appear at some point, I promise!)
Much Love, Autumn x x x x
Chapter 17: Unstoppable demands
"That pompous little git!" seethed Prue, directing a murderous glare down at the seeing pool. "Thinks he's all that, does he? Mr. bloody high and mighty!"
Sheila reached out a restraining hand, "Prue…" she began.
But Prue shook off her hand and clambered to her feet, all the while muttering venomously to herself. "Wyatt bloody Halliwell, heir of Excalibur and complete effing ba-"
"Prue!" Despite the circumstances Sheila felt her motherly instinct rise, "There will be none of that language, thank you very much!"
The teenager had the grace to look slightly abashed, before settling her face into a heavy scowl. "I'm so going to kick his arse when I next see him." she announced, "When I rescue Chris and Uncle Darryl from right under his nose, then we'll see who's so bloody fantastic then, shall we?"
Sheila cast a glance down at the Elders down below, milling about in an unorderly fashion, their outraged tones clearly audible from the pair's position, numerous floors above. "What about the Elders? Have you asked them for help? Maybe they can do something."
Shaking her head, Prue replied, "No. They wont be any help, trust me." Noticing Sheila's slightly reproachful gaze Prue carried on, "I mean, yeah they saved us, and I'm grateful for that, really. It's just they're not very good at the whole fighting part of things. That's left down to us witches."
"But you can't go on your own! It'd be suicide. They'd catch you!" Sheila's face was clearly worried.
"No they won't." Prue assured her, "I have a plan." I only hope it works, she added silently.
"Well, can I help?" persisted Sheila, still unwilling to let Prue make a solo rescue attempt.
Prue started to shake her head before swiftly changing her mind, "Actually, yeah. You can tell me if you think my disguise will cut it."
"Disguise?"
"Yep!" Prue's mouth curved into a smirk that was eerily reminiscent of Wyatt, "Chris tried the sneaking in option, and that obviously didn't work, so I'm going to go for the opposite. If there's no way of getting in without Wyatt's demons knowing, then I'm going to make sure they do know I'm there."
Prue suppressed a laugh at Sheila's gob smacked expression before carrying on, "Only, I won't be me. I'll be the one person who will be able to get anywhere without being questioned. That is, Wyatt."
Sheila frowned, "You mean- But how?"
Prue stretched out a hand to Sheila, "We need to take a trek back to our house. We do still have some of Wyatt's stuff there, don't we?"
Nodding Sheila replied, "Yeah, we have some boxes up in the attic."
"Well then, if we can find something of him, like a hair or whatever, then I found the recipe for this potion that will let me bypass any protective spells he's got surrounding himself. And then, with a nifty little spell, I can become the one and only Wyatt Halliwell!"
The pair vanished in a swirl of orbs, leaving the crowd of Elders still arguing furiously below them.
-----
In a place that was as dull and gloomy as the Elders sanctuary was bright and gentle, the sound of industrious sawing was the only thing breaking the heavy silence that hung over the dungeon that Chris was currently residing in.
Chris drew the loose rock backwards and forwards over the metal circlet that was encasing his ankle and preventing him from using any form of magic.
If he squinted hard in the near blackness, Chris thought he could possibly see the start of a shallow scratch, but running his fingers over the band all he felt was the cold smoothness of the metal. He sighed. It wasn't working.
"Surprise, surprise." Chris muttered, giving the anklet a few sharp blows with the rock, more out of frustration than anything else.
He threw the rock against the opposite wall and watched moodily as it clattered onto the floor, the sound quickly swallowed by the oppressing nothingness that seemed to surround the cell.
'Wonder how Wyatt's meeting is going,' Chris thought bitterly as his mind wandered to his brother, no doubt sitting four floors above in the majestic conference room that had once been the envy of many visiting councillors…
-----
"This country will never bow down to terrorists!" The President of the United States banged his fist against the sleek wood of the table with an elaborate gesture. He was red faced with righteous anger and had abandoned his chair to stand glaring over Wyatt.
Wyatt flicked his clear blue eyes upwards for a moment before rising gracefully to his feet as well, his six foot two frame easily dwarfing the President's shorter stature. "I am not a terrorist." He spoke the words in a tone that brooked no argument. "No non-magical people have been deliberately hurt in my take-over, and neither will they be under my rule. Additionally, at no point since this coup began have I, or my soldiers, for lack of a better word, pretended to be civilians in order to fight undetected."
A few white lies never hurt anyone, Wyatt mused.
"You! You…" The President spluttered incoherently for a moment before gaining control of his rage, "You have come here, attacked my country, killed my people, (for whether they were, as you label them, witches or magical folk they were still Americans) and yet you have the nerve to stand there and name your terms! You will never rule this country, Halliwell and your days of having captured San Francisco are numbered."
"Wrong." Wyatt put all the coldness in his voice that he could muster, "My days here are numbered? How so? Two days since I first took over and the only people who have managed to even get in to the city has been yourself and your aides, and that at my express command. The barrier is impenetrable and, if need be, my own force field can make it doubly so, as my demonstration yesterday proved.
"I have made my demands, and you are in no place to refuse. Give me California."
The President narrowed his eyes and sent a glare that would have left a lesser opponent running for his life. "You are insane!" he roared, "One does not simply 'give' away a state, even if I had any intention of acceding to your ridiculous demand."
Wyatt leaned forward over the table, "It does not matter what you intend or naively believe you can do. I will get California, by force if necessary, and there is nothing you can do to stop me. It is simply a matter of whether you prefer to make the transition as smooth as possible with few, if any, lives lost, or if you prefer to start a war that you simply cannot win."
"The United States army is the best in the world!" the President proclaimed with his traditional fierce patriotism, "And being backed up by the combined UN armies makes it, if I may be so bold as to borrow your phrase, doubly so."
"Be that as it may, no army in this world has met a group of demon on a battlefield, have they." Wyatt commented dryly, "Kezlar, come forward." This directed at his second in command.
"Yes, sire." Kezlar's gravely voice boomed as he stepped up to the table, muscles bulging.
Wyatt waved an airy hand, "This is Kezlar. A brute demon. Not only do bullets only serve to annoy him, he would easily snap the gun in half without breaking a sweat and then do the same to the neck of the person holding the gun. And bear in mind that he could do the same to those considerably larger guns you mount on your army's tanks. Tell me, Mr. President, how can your soldiers expect to beat an army of these demons?"
The President was silent for a moment, digesting the obvious truth in Wyatt's words. "Be that as it may," he retorted eventually, "I assure you the American people would rather die fighting than die under the rule of a tyrannical maniac."
Wyatt snorted, "Would they? Really? I think you'll find that the majority of people will place a high importance on the safety of their own skins."
"We shall see." The President's argument was empty, both men knew. Wyatt held all the cards…
"So you reject my request?" Wyatt clarified.
The President nodded firmly, "Absolutely. I will concede nothing to you willingly."
"Well then," Wyatt smirked, "I shall take it by force. And never forget, that any blood spilled will be staining your hands."
"The average person listening to your speech has the impression that you only plan to use violence if it is first used against you." The protest was delivered with a grim voice.
This made Wyatt laugh out loud. "My dear President, if I had made an honest speech then I would have been the first politician in history to do so." Still smirking he turned to Kezlar, "I believe the President is done here. Show him out."
The President turned to go, paused, then gave a final parting shot, "You haven't won Halliwell. So don't get too cocky."
Wyatt took a step forward, emanating menace. "Don't mistake me for anything except what I am." he snarled, "Dangerous and powerful."
He spun swiftly on his heel and marched toward the other exit. "Show him out." he demanded of Kezlar again. As the heavy mahogany door swung shut behind him, he could hear Kezlar's sneering voice "Right this way Mr President, sir."
'There is nothing that can stop me,' Wyatt promised himself, 'I am unstoppable, and the sooner people realise that, the better.'