On the 7th of March, 2009, in the wake of a global financial crisis that was rocking the world, a small group had gathered in the Washington Mall.

At first they seemed like just another protest. The mall saw dozens if not hundreds of malcontents with signs and petitions, every day. Most simply dispersed by themselves. Others were helped to leave by capitol police. This was D.C.

But today something was different.

The first sign that this was not your run of the mill protest at the mall, was when the capitol police first came to check up on them.

The protestors weren't protesting. They weren't shouting, shaking their signs, screaming slogans or doing anything, really. They simply sat cross-legged on the steps of the mall, patiently waiting. When Sgt. J. T. Buick (the senior capitol police officer at the scene) first approached them, they politely informed him that they were simply waiting till noon. They informed him that at noon, one of them was planning to walk into the Whitehouse.

Later, when asked about this moment, Sgt Buick would mention that this was when he first noticed a subtle golden glow about the man he spoke to - an almost imperceptible golden shine that at at the time he dismissed it as a trick of the morning light.

At first the sergeant assumed the protestors were a little nutty and just decided to leave well enough alone. He simply assumed they'd disperse in a few hours. This was not the first group of somewhat unhinged protestors he'd seen. He encountered about two a week. These ones seemed mostly harmless. But as he watched them sit patiently and as the clock steadily ticked its way to noon, he started to feel just a bit uneasy. There was something about this that just felt off.

At 11:40am Sgt Buick radioed into the secret service to inform them of the possible threat. The secret service special agent in charge didn't know what to make of the bizarre report and assumed the sergeant was getting spooked. She ignored the tip. The capitol police at the scene, still led by Buick, grew increasingly uncomfortable, but held back and monitored the group.

At Noon, exactly, one of the protestors got up, and patiently began to walk.

With unhurried steps he began proceeding towards the white house. Buick noticed this was the same man he'd spoken to earlier that day. The remaining protestors continued to sit where they were, watching. Buick noticed, from the corner of his eye, that one of them had opened a bag of peanuts.

The police kept pace, walking alongside him, increasingly nervous, until he started to approach whitehouse crowd barriers, where they expected him to stop.

He did not.

When he walked straight through the wooden barriers like they weren't even there, knocking them over, Sgt Buick and three other officers attempted to bar his way. At first they were polite, placing their hands in front of them, but the walking man seemed to neither stop nor even slow, pushing through them gently. His pace remained unchanged as he walked through them, like an adult making their way through an angry army of toddlers. Some of the capitol officers started pulling out batons as a threat. But the man seemed to be ignoring them, even when they started to lose their tempers.

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Buick didn't swing his baton. For some reason, that he couldn't name, but that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, he held back. Two other officers though, raised up their batons and began attempting to club the protestor. As Buick watched, an icy feeling in the pit of his stomach, he realized the batons seemed to bounce or slide off him, stopping a millimeter from his body, deflected by that same strange golden shine.

The Golden man - that's how Buick thought of him now - barely deigned to notice the increasingly panicked officers whaling away at his head and body with steel batons. He simply continued to walk, his pace not slowing a whit. He barely turned his head

He continued to walk with that same unhurried pace past the officers. He continued to walk as they hurried to keep up with him, attacking him with batons to no effect. He walked on, unworried, when they finally shouted at him to stop from behind him, guns drawn.

The first shot from an officer went wide, too much adrenaline in the man's body to shoot straight. The second officer fired fifteen rounds, her entire clip, into the back of the golden man's legs, then into his back then in the back of his head. Buick being the senior at the scene should have said something, given some order his people.. but whatever he wanted to shout, his words wouldn't seem to come. The bullets fell to the ground behind the golden man, though he didn't really seem to notice or care.

The golden's man's pace remained utterly unchanged as he walked though three layers of barriers. As he walked through the whitehouse fence it seemed to explode, the metal popping, brick dust flying, as it gave way to his implacable path.

At 12:12pm Central Time, four US Marines armed with M16s took up position and opened fire, just the golden man stopped to delicately step over a patch of daisies by the lawn. The gatehouse marines and later the contingent that joined them fired over seven hundred rounds of ammunition at the golden man over the course of three minutes. They could have been firing nerf guns. Popping out from the far bushes, one secret service agent fired an RPG he'd dug from an armory somewhere. The rocket whistled across the lawn with a thin, eery whistle before exploding with a deafening boom, when it hit the golden man between his shoulder blades. When the smoke cleared, the golden man seemed to have fallen, but he was already picking himself up, dusting off his pants, and stepping through the wall

There was a shriek of tortured steel as he tore through the sheathed walls of the oval office. Then, a mighty and unnatural groan of protesting concrete and rebar that could not hold back an unstoppable force, inexorably forcing its way through it. Then the figure was gone, and through the wall.

Then silence.

It's not public knowledge what happened after. Whether the golden man threatened the president of the united states or presented an ultimatum. After Buick watched the most bizarre series of events he could imagine, unfolding before him, there was an utter and complete silence.

At 12pm the next day, the whitehouse press secretary assembled the press corp to watch the President give an emergency press briefing, to be broadcast worldwide.

There were New Gods among us.

And one of them, Gibraltar - the Golden Man - now had a vote in the US Senate.