Laneria
11-07-2006, 16:40
Joseph Billington was a lot of things. He was a husband, a father, a devout Catholic, the winner of the Narup Prize in History, and, more importantly at the moment, he was the President of Laneria. Billington had never witnessed anything like what was going on right now. The city of St. Timothée had been almost entirely submerged in the aftermath of a hurricane. Gate City had been wracked by a huge earthquake. The rest of the country had all the same problems, an almost endless list of natural disasters. Crime was through the roof and multiple terrorist attacks had been reported in the last few weeks. And all of this seemed to come from nowhere. The nation had seemed quite peaceful as recently as last month.
Billinton sighed heavily. He ran a hand through his gray hair and stood up from his desk in his office. He was a man in his early sixties, a little stocky without being fat. He spoke in the manner of an educated man from Northeastern Laneria, which is exactly what he was. But now he didn't even know what to say. All these events had to be connected somehow but it just didn't make sense to him. Neither Billington nor the members of his Cabinet had any ideas beyond responding to each crisis in turn to the best of their abilities.
Billington walked into the waiting room outside his office. "If it isn't another emergency, hold my calls. I think I need to take a walk."
"Yes, sir." Elizabeth Langmore, the Warren House intern behind the desk, looked up briefly. She was in her late twenties and had been with the President ever since his campaign in 2004. She wasn't exactly a pretty girl but she wasn't ugly either. On the streets, one probably wouldn't have noticed her. She wore her light brown hair short and had glasses perched awkwardly on her nose. The President trusted her implicitly, which is why she had the job she did.
Billington stepped out into the corridor, brushing past staffers, writers, interns, and even the odd tour guide until he was out on the grounds. He needed this. Just a moment to collect his thoughts. He stepped softly across the green grass, pausing to lean against the old oak tree that towered near the West Gate, letting his gaze move up to the twilight sky. "That's it..."
Billinton sighed heavily. He ran a hand through his gray hair and stood up from his desk in his office. He was a man in his early sixties, a little stocky without being fat. He spoke in the manner of an educated man from Northeastern Laneria, which is exactly what he was. But now he didn't even know what to say. All these events had to be connected somehow but it just didn't make sense to him. Neither Billington nor the members of his Cabinet had any ideas beyond responding to each crisis in turn to the best of their abilities.
Billington walked into the waiting room outside his office. "If it isn't another emergency, hold my calls. I think I need to take a walk."
"Yes, sir." Elizabeth Langmore, the Warren House intern behind the desk, looked up briefly. She was in her late twenties and had been with the President ever since his campaign in 2004. She wasn't exactly a pretty girl but she wasn't ugly either. On the streets, one probably wouldn't have noticed her. She wore her light brown hair short and had glasses perched awkwardly on her nose. The President trusted her implicitly, which is why she had the job she did.
Billington stepped out into the corridor, brushing past staffers, writers, interns, and even the odd tour guide until he was out on the grounds. He needed this. Just a moment to collect his thoughts. He stepped softly across the green grass, pausing to lean against the old oak tree that towered near the West Gate, letting his gaze move up to the twilight sky. "That's it..."