Death of a leader, rise of a son.....
Stiffness in the right side of his body woke the Preator up. Not thinking much about it, he glanced at the clock sitting by his bed on the stand.
8:13 am.
"Slept in a little today, didn't we?" though Preator B. Matzn. "Bah. As leader, I should be able to get some relaxing rest once in a while," countered the other side of his mind.
Either way, he had to get up now for work called him. But today was different somehow. His body was more sore than usual. He thought nothing of it; he was up in age, he reasoned, and it was just his body's way of saying he needed to slow down. "Perhaps, soon, someone else should lead the people..." he wondered as he shuffled down the hall to the bathroom. He walked more gingerly today, and his staff of maids and orderlies couldn't help but notice. Though they said nothing. Even though the Preator was a kind man, no one other than his closest friends and family ever told him what they thought he should do. Not that they were worried about retribution; they just didn't want to chance being on his bad side, even though no one actually knew if he had a bad side.
Finished with his usual morning routine, he made his way to have breakfast. Walking seemed to be getting harder for him the more steps he took. "More exercise is what I need. Exercise is just what I need to do more of." Not wanting his staff to become worried, he acted like he was gazing at the paintings on the wall as he passed them, stopping at a few of them to make sure they didn't ask him questions that he didn't want to answer. He stopped at one of his father. "Preator for 48 years. One of the best leaders of our nation. Rest in peace, father."
It was hard to start moving again. His right leg wouldn't move. Straining, he forced his leg foward with the help of his arms. The left leg was easier, yet his right wouldn't move again. Forced it to more again....
...he fell to the ground....
...blackness started to envelop his sight...
...noises; someone yelling, but couldn't hear what was said...
...more blackness...
Think nothing of my post...I'm just putting it here because I wanted a laugh...
Meanwhile...in a dark room in Washington D.C....Bush laughs in his Office.
"Ha! No one left to keep me from invading Europe now!"
Babara Bush walks in
"Ahh! Good to see you Barbara! Watch me give the order to invade Eur-"
Barb. slaps Bush
Barb.: Idiot...we don't exist in NS!
Bush: So...I can dream right?
Barb.: Get off the internet!
Bush: No! I wanna declare war on the UN!
Barb.: NOW BUSH!
Bush: But I don't wanna...
Barb: Don't make me bring out the strap o-
Bush: OKAY!~ OKAY!
ooc: kinda funny, though I would really prefer that you would refrain from posting jokes and instead post something in response to my posts. Thanks.
...light slipped through his barely opened eyelids. His blurred vision kept him for a few minutes from comprehending where he was. Beeping noises were his company, sounding off on their regular intervals. He tried to think of his last memory, but he couldn't remember what that was. Or where he was before his current location. He strained his mind, searching the depths to locate something he remembered, something familiar to which he could cling to and start from. His search took him to a startling place...
...Who was he?
He had no memory of who he was. No name, no parents, no familiar faces. Nothing.
He assumed he was in a some medical place, maybe a hospital. No other signs helped him in figuring anything out. A few nurses glanced in the doorway, but no one talked to him. He tried to move, but got no response from his arms or legs. Looking down, he saw that they were not strapped in place, nor somehow impeded in any way. But he couldn't move his limbs. Laying there, he went into his mind more, searching for any answers to the questions he had.
=========================================
Metropolis Utopia - In a hastily prepared conference, news of the health of Preator B. Matzn was updated. "According to preliminary reports from doctors, the Preator has suffered a severe stroke, possibly more than one," said Press Secretary Todd McNilan. According to information McNilan gave, the Preator had a sudden hemorage in his Pre-Frontal Cortex and Cerrebelum, causing him to suddenly loose conscience and motor functions. "The doctors went in and stopped the bleeding, but the extent of damage in not known at this point. Physiology, toxicology and other tests have not been completed nor conclusive." McNilan didn't take any questions, and other officials within the government refused comment on the situation.
Standing in the doorway, Brian looked upon the figure of his father. The form just laid there, devoid of any motion. Only the rush of nurses, the constant beeping noises of the machines and annoying intercom lady made noise. The beeps were regular, relaying the constant beating of the Preator's heart, letting others know that he was still alive.
"But just barely..." thought Brian.
He moved to the corner, a dark shadow cast upon it with the window covers pulled shut, and the room lights off. Pulling up a chair, he sat down, still gazing at the form of his father. Weak, unable to do anything...
...couldn't even protect himself.
He was the heir to the Preatorship, next in line to lead the nation. A nation that had been lead by his family almost since the beginning. And it should have been his turn years ago, but his father was a resiliant man in very good health when considering his age. Many generations ago, it had become the standard that the previous Preator would die in his role before the next Preator would take his place. Some viewed this accension process with disdain, denouncing the past Preator's as over-powerful, greedy and lustful deities who only were out for more power of their own.
They were right....to a point.
Brian's father had been Preator for almost 30 years now, ruling the nation with a compassion not seen in generations, yet also bolstering the military beyond imagination. His policies, which had their own critics, were being seen as some of the most progressive and beneficial to IP since its founding. Yet Brian wasn't happy. He had to live in that shadow; the shadow of success upon success. He had grown disillusioned the past few years as his father had clung to life and the Preatorship, still wielding its power while he had grown older and more frail. His father had been too kind to those that needed to be put in place, too generous with those that seeked to leech from the government whatever they could. In Brian's eye's, his father was too kind to be helping every single citizen. They benefited from his father's programs, his creations and yet they still demanded more from him when the well was starting to run dry.
Now his father lay in a hospital bed, crippled from several severe strokes. Partly from Brian's causing.
The doctors wouldn't find anything though; Brian had made sure of that. Bribing the lab techies was easy to do, especially when it included threats about "serious consequences" to their families. A smirk formed on Brian's lips, as he thought back to the face on an especially demanding techie when Brian's "friends" paid her children a visit while walking back from school. The kids were safe, but the point was made.
So, the lab reports wouldn't find the small amounts of aresnic he'd been slipping his father for a couple of years now. The amounts would have been small anyway, but they would be high enough to rouse unnecessary curiosity.
But now there was only one last thing to do.
Moving from the chair, Brian headed back to the door, quietly and slowly closing it to outside viewers. He paused there, his back to the bed. Exhailing slowly, he withdrew a small syringe from his inner coat pocket, and took it out of its protective wrapper. He walked to the bedside, making sure to not appear alarming to the form, for a rapid rise in heart rate would sound a buzzer at the front desk. Grasping the IV tube, he pushed the needle in the opening for injections, slowly adding the last lethal portion of aresnic into his father's blood, ending the life of his father...the Preator.
He couldn't think of him as his father now. Only a casualty to a cause. He was not the first, nor would he be the last. That was the only sure thing.
Brian stood there for a moment, looking down for the last time upon the person who had tried to pass on his ways, his methods.
"Your ways were weak. You are weak. The weak shall pass under the rise of the strong, and I will allow the strong to rise. Your time has passed, and a new light brings forth stronger men than you."
Brian exited the room, planning the future that must now come for the nation and citizens of Isolationist People.
Devin awoke to the harsh phone ringing by his bed. He rolled over slowly, not wanting to actually awake enough from his sleep-deprived state as to not fall asleep in the moment or two it took to get rid of the stupid idot calling at this hour. His eyes weren't even open, and his hand fumbled a little reaching for the reciever, picking it up from its cradle. He intentionally answered it groggily and a little more angry than he usually was.
"There had better be a damn good reason for calling at this hour, whoever you are." What he heard next caught him by surprise, and he nearly dropped the phone. "Are you sure?....Of course you'd be sure about something like this, huh?.... Yes, that was a retorhical question.....Ok, thanks for the info. I'll take care of it." He set the phone back down, bringing his feet to the side in order to sit on the bed. He just sat there for the next few moments, wondering what he should do next. His wife rolled over and petted his arm, gently playing with his hairs.
"The Preator's dead," he said quietly. She stopped petting his arm, her hand starting to go cold. "That was the head doctor. Said it happened about an hour ago. Appears that the strokes were more than he could handle, and just slipped away." He turned to look at her, looking straight into her eyes. "I've got to go in now. Gotta help let the nation know, and get things in order for the transfer of power." The look on his face told her that he thought something was wrong when he said the last part of the sentence. "Devin, you don't sound like you want to help in that. Seems like it would be good to have the next Preator ready to go so that the nation keeps moving." She was right, but something about Brian made him question whether if he was the right person to lead.
"I don't know sweetheart. The Preator's son, Brian.....well....he isn't like his father. He's, he's....more cunning, closed about himself when he was around the Council. Even when he was around his father. I just don't have a good feeling about him, like he may be hiding something." She looked back up at him, her eye's searching his with curiosity as to what he meant. "I'm sure its nothing dear. It's probably the hour. It'll probably just pass and be ok." Leaning down to kiss her, Devin hoped that she was right. She usually was. Yet when he hugged her goodbye fifteen minutes later, the back of his mind still tugged at him.
Arriving at his office, he set his briefcase down beside his desk. 4:57 am His desk clock read. "Why'd you have to die this early," he thought a little cynically. He had just opened one of his cabinets to search for the paperwork when Dominus Mark, Chairman of Defense, knocked on the open door. "Mornin' Devin. Glad to see I'm not the only one who never gets any sleep around here," he half-heartedly joked. Devin returned a half-smile to the joke to be curtious. "When'd you find out?" Devin asked. "'Bout half an hour ago, probably right before you did. Guess they figure defense and the military are a little more important than foreign affairs," Dominus replied with a small grunt. The wording of that sentence made Devin pause for a moment. He turned to Dominus. "Why would you say that," he asked as casually as he could muster to hide his curiosity. "Well, I guess because they want to have the military under control, 'case some wacko-nutcase decides to take power by force." Though his curiosity and suspicions began to rise, Devin fought to forces them down, lest he seem too interested in Dominus's responses. He hadn't gotten to be Chairman of Foreign Affairs by letting his curiosity and mouth get the better of him, though he now was starting to wonder if there was more behind this than he was privy to.
"Well, I'm gonna head on back to my part of the building, Dev. Got stuff to do, and I'm sure you do too." With that, Dominus quietly walked out of the room, leaving behind questions that hadn't been there when he entered. Devin sat down, and for a moment thought about what had just happened, but soon put it aside as there were more pressing things to be accomplished. Today would be a long day, and a day or sorrow to the nation that would be waking up here soon.
The flashes of cameras captured his every movement up to the podium. Devin did not relish this role, nor the news he carried and was about to tell the nation, as well as anyone else in the world who were watching on their tv's. Placing his papers on the wood podium, he took a small sip before speaking.
"Ladies and Gentlemen of Isolationist People, it is sad news I bring to you this morning. Preator B. Matzn died earlier this morning, the result of his multiple strokes suffered earlier this week. The doctors said he was sleeping peacefully at the time, and that he just slipped away. I think I can speak for all of us when I say that he will be missed. There will be a national day of mourning in which to pay our respects to his memory and his legacy. Yet let us not forget that our lives go on. He would want us to move on and live our lives. And so we have, and will. Later today, Preator Matzn's son Brian will be sworn in as our new leader. The government is still alive, and so are we. Thank you for your time."
Devin walked off the stage to more flashes of cameras, no doubt in his mind that commentators were already disecting and trashing his speech. No matter. Everyone knew that tv commentators had no emotions or a heart. Moving down the hall to his office, he slumped down in his chair, hoping that the future would be as bright as he tried to tell the people just moments ago. Yet he couldn't convince himself, so how could he convince others. Not many people had been around Brian as much as Devin, due to the Preator's fondness and close friendship with Devin. But that was sure to come to a screeching halt, and soon. He wondered if it would be a bad thing after all. It would free up his schedule some, giving him more time to be with his family. That was always good. Devin was no sure judge of character, but watching Brian grow up to what he was now, something made him wonder what actually made Brian tick. A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts.
It was Dominus Mark. "Dev, come with me. The new head honcho wants a meetin' now. Something about some policies being changed or somethin' like that." Devin's curiosity started to rise again, even though he knew he would find out here soon enough. What was up going on? What card did Brian have up his sleeve? Soon enough it will be played, Devin thought cynically.
BUMP, to keep this thread from being deleted, cuz I've got some plans and I might need this one for reference.
Tarlachia
30-03-2004, 06:54
*ties a blue TAG to the thread, identifying its personal information in block lettering*
:) TAG