Romney + Vampire Chapter 2
Note: Sorry this update took so long; the result of the election seriously depressed me. However I've decided to continue the story.
"You can't be serious about this Mitt, let the army do their god damn job. Quite frankly this whole escapade sounds like an adolescent fantasy. Hardly worthy of the president's time…"
Mitt grimaced and looked out the corner of his eye. Paul was a good vice president, capable and persuasive. But ever since day one his standard refrain had been to call the president out on not being conservative enough. Mitt could deal with these accusations, but this latest castigation of personal cowboy adventurism, to Mitt rung true. Why was he doing this? Certainly those soldiers needed to be avenged, but the military was more than capable of doing so. Boredom? Itchy feet? Lame excuses, but the only ones that made any sense.
"And another thing, no president has ever survived ingesting the serum, the eggheads may claim it's more stable but I wouldn't bet the farm on it."
Ah, the serum, before this Japanese monster academy situation it had been Mitt's only encounter with the supernatural. For centuries America's top scientists have been working on technology to grant the president superpowers. In all their years of research only one vignette has born fruit, the serum. And even that has killed every president who has drunk it. But now he's told that it's finally safe or at least safer. To stop these monsters himself, Mitt would risk the pain of death.
There was a single knock on the cabin door and a man in a white lab-coat entered unbidden. "We're ready for you on the operation deck Mr. President."
"Thank you, Dr. Sowell… I hope you're a Republican." Mitt said flashing a nervous grin.
"Ha-ha! Good one Mitt! Now please, follow me to the operating deck." Said Dr. Sowell.
The president slowly stood up and followed the doctor down the narrow corridor. As he did so he tightly gripped the rosary in his right pocket. A gift from his father, George, this rosary had given Mitt comfort in his darkest hours, a constant reminder that God loved him and was watching with a steady unbreakable gaze. A nearby door opened with a mechanical woosh and Mitt stepped into the operating room.
The president shielded his aged eyes, the room was lit by nearly a dozen powerful fluorescent lights and the clean metallic surfaces reflected the luminance in dazzling fashion.
"Lie down on the table and do not move." Intoned a masked surgeon.
Mitt lay down and as the anesthesia pumped into his lungs the president began to dream…
Mitt inhaled sharply and received a lungful of icy vapor. Instantly he noticed that he was now possessed of his youth. A strong hand pulled at his arm, his father George. They were walking like it was one of the hikes they had embarked on in Mitt's boyhood, but something was wrong. All the details were screwy; the president looked around and saw a burning village filled with the corpses of beautiful women. What had happened?
"Son, I just want to let you know that no matter what happens I love you and mark my words you will not become your father…"
Suddenly… nothing, the whole world was a sea of milky white. Mitt blinked and vague outlines of objects appeared. Blinking once more the president's vision returned to him. Instantly he felt the sensation of power, it surged through his veins, filled his lungs and made his arms feel as if they would explode.
"Mr. President are you Allright? Can you hear me?"
"Yes."