September 4, 2017

4.30 pm, London, UK

“Does the end justify the means?” The General asks, pensively staring into the shot glass of Pride vodka in his right aged hand. His black buttoned long coat and sunglasses hiding his well built yet scarred features. His gray hair contrasts with his dark hat. Even while sitting, he towers above most with a mature demeanor. A lion at rest.

“You told me there is only victory or defeat, my General.” Darya, who sits at his right side, responds while holding her shot of Pride vodka in her left hand. Her long legs crossed, covered in fishnet. Her short black dress hugs her pale skin, accentuating her slender athletic build. Her fiery hair flows down to her shoulders. Her young yet mysterious green eyes stare at The General. A smile tugs at her cherry lips. A minx at play.

Both sit side by side at the bar of the little known pub of Devil’s Tears. All around, the boisterous environment increasing with every passing minute as the workday comes to a close. The shady lighting does nothing to impede the discussions of the various patrons. A lone TV hangs on the wall behind the bartender.

“Indeed.” The General laments while raising his shot glass, “The trap is set. Hail Skull Reich.”

“Cheers, my General.” Darya responds, clinking her shot glass with his then downing the Pride vodka worth over 2 million dollars a bottle.

On the TV, the topic of Brexit is cast aside for something far more urgent.

“We interrupt with Breaking News. Multiple sources have confirmed the abduction of the twin granddaughters of the American President.” The lone white male anchor says, “According to Social Media, Mariah and Serena Ali, aged 20, were celebrating their birthday over the weekend at a resort in Cancun, Mexico. Contact with the girls was lost about 3 hours ago. Both are in their graduating year at Princeton University.”

“Parents, Dr. Muhammud and Dr. Linda Ali, have not made any public statements. Their grandmother, now 6 months President, Gertrude Pond, has not released any comments either. The abduction has only been confirmed by several anonymous figures within the White House.”

“President Gertrude Pond, made history as the first female president of the United States of America. She was sworn in after the disgraced 45th US President, whose exposed scandals forced him and his VP to resign in less than a month on the job. President Pond spent the first six months of her presidency rebuilding a divided nation and restoring faith in the American government both at home and abroad. Her actions have made her allies and enemies everywhere.”

“We will update you as we know more.”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

8.30 pm, Washington, DC.

"How in God’s name does the press know? This is a family matter." President Gertrude asks as her fist pound the Resolute Desk, the staple of the Oval Office. Night light seeps through the white curtains that drape over the three French windows behind the seat of the desk. The flags of the United States of America and the President of the United States stand equidistant apart, bordering the standing President Pond. The alternating brown and white parallel lines of wallpaper carry on them portraits of great historical figures and moments. Most of the portraits contain significant moments in African-American history.

“We are investigating the leaks, Madam President.” Don Bridges, Director of the FBI, says. His greying dark hair and wrinkled skin revealing his 60s. Over 30 years of hard work at the bureau had earned him the highest office at the FBI. His dark Calvin Klein suit and black striped tie hide his surprisingly fit build. As a new grandfather, he empathizes with President Pond.

“Who kidnapped my granddaughters?” President Pond asks.

“We honestly don’t know, Madam President.” Don says, “No one has claimed credit nor demanded anything.”

“But we suspect rouge elements of a local drug cartel, Ma’am. So far intelligence has been sparse but we are using every asset.” Nick Jones, Director of the CIA, says. Climbing the ranks of the world’s best spy agency over 40 years leaves no time to be a family man. His dark Armani suit silhouetting an aged yet rugged build. Always having to prove himself because of his Black racial background, he could relate to President Pond.

“Use everything you have.” President Pond demands.

“Madam President, there could be a backlash if you are seen fully deploying all resources-” Don intercedes.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass!” President Pond shouts, “They are my granddaughters and I will use the power of this office to find them because they are probably in this mess because of it!”

“My services are at your full disposal, Madam President.” Fire says, looking straight into the brown eyes of the first female African-American president of the United States. He has been married to the job just like Nick. Over 40 years of service was more than enough to recognize a distraught grandmother even though all of his family members were dead.

“Colonel Jonathan Donald, wherever you and your team go bodies remain.” President Pond responds. She stares past the two men sitting in front of her desk to the man sitting on the sofa and staring right back at her. The lit fireplace illuminates the dark-brown haired, gray-blue eyed man often called Fire. A tieless gray suit clothed the longest-serving and most decorated American Secret Agent the world has never heard of. He and his team are America's most lethal assets.

“I am volunteering myself for the mission.” Fire responds.

“You alone have unlawfully killed a mountain of people.” President Pond says.

“That has given me the skills necessary to rescue your granddaughters.” Fire says.

A brief silence falls. Don and Nick sit awkwardly in between the tense exchange.

“You… are the embodiment of old-world cloak and dagger politics.” President Pond says, “Yet your record shows that you are the best of the best.”

“Please…” President Pond pleads while rising, “Save my granddaughters.”

“As soon as they are found, Madam President.” Fire promises, rising up to his full height of over 6 feet.

“Dismissed.” President Pond says.

Don and Nick are already up because when the President stands, no one else sits. They nod as they make their way out of the Oval office. Don splits off, leaving Nick and Fire.

“She still doesn’t like you, you 63-year old fire.” Nick teases.

“Who sent me on most of those missions? You, you 69-year old snake.” Fire responds.

“Do you think you can rally your troops on this volunteer mission?” Nick asks.

“Find the girls, I will handle the rest.” Fire responds.

“To think you are practically retired.” Nick says.

“This is just one more thing.” Fire says.