Ralkovia
31-12-2008, 03:15
Voksar stepped out of the car as hundreds of millions of ralkovians watched. The tragedy that had befallen the new republic was still fresh in everybody’s minds. Hundreds of guards wrapped in blue and white garb stood as crowd patrol. The people had assumed these men were police trying to hide their identity. There were no cheers like the ones that had greeted the late president Washington. Instead there were murmurs and cries as the people were reminded of how almost a year ago the president elect had walked down the corridor with the people chants and screams of happiness for his inauguration. The crowd then fell deathly ill as the vice-president walked down the hastily constructed barricades of bullet proof glass and twisted metal.
The inauguration of President Washington and the inauguration of Vice president Voksar were so different it was impossible to believe that this man was their choice of vice president. Voksar simply smiled, he was dressed in the “Emperor’s Colors.” Dark red, gold, silver, and black it had stood for the monarchy and now their future president wore it.
The man’s cane which he had never been seen without had now disappeared as he walked up the stair case effortlessly. The clack of his feet against the marble stairs seemed as if it echoed through the very city. Arriving at the top he stopped in front of a small group of men. “Vice President Voksar, do you swear to G-d, to your nation, and to your people that you will do your best to protect and serve ralkovia and her people.”
Voksar’s old face seemed to mold into a wide grin. His eyes a dark hue of red gave him an almost vilified stature. “I swear, I swear to G-d and to my nation that I will protect and serve ralkovia to the best of my abilities.” Several onlookers whispered something about what he had said but stopped as the faceless figures of the guards seemed to turn towards them.
As the men went through the list of his duties, he simply nodded in agreement. Finally they asked him if he would take on his duty as President of Ralkovia. His grin couldn’t have gotten any larger, “I am ready,” he said skipping the thankful bow to the men that he was supposed to have done.
He stepped down and looked to the crowd, who all expected him to reassure them. He suppressed a laugh before walking down the stair case into his car. “Voksar, President Voksar,” he said laughing to himself as one of the garbed guards drove him to his house. “Dev Gordon,” Voksar said to his driver, “What do you think? President Voksar?” he said unable to contain his laughter.
The guard looked down at the dashboard for a moment, “Call for voksar,” the driver said. Pressing a button on the console next to him a name and number appeared, Tara and an area code for the Morocco. He pressed the receive button woman’s voice could be heard. “So I hear the raskovs are in power,” she said. Voksar calmed himself, “Correct Mrs. Young. The monarchy is back and you have held up your end of the bargain.”
Tara Young said something to a black shirt in her room. The sounds of bullets flying could also be heard, “Then why have you sent death guard to my house to kill me?” She said already assuming the answer.
“Well Mrs. Young the military loves you and unfortunately a G-d needs full worship. You have refused my offer of marriage so I have one option left,” he said beginning to laugh again. His eyes had left the deep blue shade to one of dark red.
“Mrs. Young don’t worry you will for one last time be given a spot light in the news,” he said hearing the sound of wood being broken. “And I told you, the death guard would never lose to some whimsy black shirts. They told me that they were quite angry that the black shirts had said they were the replacements of the death guard. I hope to let you know that every member of the black shirts has already been rounded up and will face execution at a later date.
“RASKOV YOU BAST-“ the sound of wood crashing open and gas releasing caused her to begin to choke and collapse.
The inauguration of President Washington and the inauguration of Vice president Voksar were so different it was impossible to believe that this man was their choice of vice president. Voksar simply smiled, he was dressed in the “Emperor’s Colors.” Dark red, gold, silver, and black it had stood for the monarchy and now their future president wore it.
The man’s cane which he had never been seen without had now disappeared as he walked up the stair case effortlessly. The clack of his feet against the marble stairs seemed as if it echoed through the very city. Arriving at the top he stopped in front of a small group of men. “Vice President Voksar, do you swear to G-d, to your nation, and to your people that you will do your best to protect and serve ralkovia and her people.”
Voksar’s old face seemed to mold into a wide grin. His eyes a dark hue of red gave him an almost vilified stature. “I swear, I swear to G-d and to my nation that I will protect and serve ralkovia to the best of my abilities.” Several onlookers whispered something about what he had said but stopped as the faceless figures of the guards seemed to turn towards them.
As the men went through the list of his duties, he simply nodded in agreement. Finally they asked him if he would take on his duty as President of Ralkovia. His grin couldn’t have gotten any larger, “I am ready,” he said skipping the thankful bow to the men that he was supposed to have done.
He stepped down and looked to the crowd, who all expected him to reassure them. He suppressed a laugh before walking down the stair case into his car. “Voksar, President Voksar,” he said laughing to himself as one of the garbed guards drove him to his house. “Dev Gordon,” Voksar said to his driver, “What do you think? President Voksar?” he said unable to contain his laughter.
The guard looked down at the dashboard for a moment, “Call for voksar,” the driver said. Pressing a button on the console next to him a name and number appeared, Tara and an area code for the Morocco. He pressed the receive button woman’s voice could be heard. “So I hear the raskovs are in power,” she said. Voksar calmed himself, “Correct Mrs. Young. The monarchy is back and you have held up your end of the bargain.”
Tara Young said something to a black shirt in her room. The sounds of bullets flying could also be heard, “Then why have you sent death guard to my house to kill me?” She said already assuming the answer.
“Well Mrs. Young the military loves you and unfortunately a G-d needs full worship. You have refused my offer of marriage so I have one option left,” he said beginning to laugh again. His eyes had left the deep blue shade to one of dark red.
“Mrs. Young don’t worry you will for one last time be given a spot light in the news,” he said hearing the sound of wood being broken. “And I told you, the death guard would never lose to some whimsy black shirts. They told me that they were quite angry that the black shirts had said they were the replacements of the death guard. I hope to let you know that every member of the black shirts has already been rounded up and will face execution at a later date.
“RASKOV YOU BAST-“ the sound of wood crashing open and gas releasing caused her to begin to choke and collapse.