Post by spanishspy on Jun 19, 2016 6:41:25 GMT
WASHINGTON, DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA
Perhaps it was ironic that statues of war heroes were so close to the antiwar rally. Jackson, Lafayette, Rochambeau, Kosciusko, and Steuben stood immortalized in Lafayette Square to the north of the White House, overlooking the massive demonstration against the troop surges to both the Middle East and now Korea.
The mass was holding signs. "No more butchery! No more genocide!" cried out one, whose grasp of definitions was malleable. They had chants and songs, all befitting such a demonstration.
The District of Columbia police stood guard. They were armed. These things could get violent. They wanted to be prepared.
Officer Peters was among them. His hand was not on his pistol, but he was watching.
Lord forbid this end up like Baltimore.
Peters heard something. Probably another protester, but he looked just in case.
There was some sort of dark insectoid, like an alien out of an action flick. He pursued it.
It looked at him, intently. It was thinking.
About him
Before thought could fully manifest itself, Peters was dead.
This insectoid morphed and took his form. Officer Peters lived again, as a mask for some sort of monster.
The faux Peters walked up to the crowd and scanned for a target. He would make an example of one of them.
A black one.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"Fuck!" screamed the President. "Fuck!" he screamed again.
"My apologies for the language," said Obama, sighing. "This is just insane."
"I understand the sentiment, sir," replied the Director of National Intelligence, James Clapper. "We are doing everything in our power to keep the world from being set ablaze, but it's hard."
"Ukraine, Syria, Korea, and now the US itself? asked Obama. "Riots in so many damn cities I can't even count them all. The world is going insane."
"Mr. President," confided Clapper, "our work with the Europeans suggests that there might be some sort of third party deliberately stoking up tensions, both here and in Europe, and I would not be surprised if the would be in Korea as well.
"Mr. President, this is for your eyes only."
He placed a tablet in front of the president, with a video loaded on it. The Director pressed the play button.
On it was footage of the demonstration-turned-riot the night beforehand; the Secret Service had to restrain several people trying to scale the fences into the White House. There was the metallic bug, or so he thought, morphing into the officer, and that officer shooting an African-American student at Howard in the demonstration, and that student falling limp to the ground.
The president just sighed. "That's clearly something. What, I don't know. But something."
"Tell that to the rioters in Chicago and Los Angeles," warned Clapper. "Tell them something."
Perhaps it was ironic that statues of war heroes were so close to the antiwar rally. Jackson, Lafayette, Rochambeau, Kosciusko, and Steuben stood immortalized in Lafayette Square to the north of the White House, overlooking the massive demonstration against the troop surges to both the Middle East and now Korea.
The mass was holding signs. "No more butchery! No more genocide!" cried out one, whose grasp of definitions was malleable. They had chants and songs, all befitting such a demonstration.
The District of Columbia police stood guard. They were armed. These things could get violent. They wanted to be prepared.
Officer Peters was among them. His hand was not on his pistol, but he was watching.
Lord forbid this end up like Baltimore.
Peters heard something. Probably another protester, but he looked just in case.
There was some sort of dark insectoid, like an alien out of an action flick. He pursued it.
It looked at him, intently. It was thinking.
About him
Before thought could fully manifest itself, Peters was dead.
This insectoid morphed and took his form. Officer Peters lived again, as a mask for some sort of monster.
The faux Peters walked up to the crowd and scanned for a target. He would make an example of one of them.
A black one.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"Fuck!" screamed the President. "Fuck!" he screamed again.
"My apologies for the language," said Obama, sighing. "This is just insane."
"I understand the sentiment, sir," replied the Director of National Intelligence, James Clapper. "We are doing everything in our power to keep the world from being set ablaze, but it's hard."
"Ukraine, Syria, Korea, and now the US itself? asked Obama. "Riots in so many damn cities I can't even count them all. The world is going insane."
"Mr. President," confided Clapper, "our work with the Europeans suggests that there might be some sort of third party deliberately stoking up tensions, both here and in Europe, and I would not be surprised if the would be in Korea as well.
"Mr. President, this is for your eyes only."
He placed a tablet in front of the president, with a video loaded on it. The Director pressed the play button.
On it was footage of the demonstration-turned-riot the night beforehand; the Secret Service had to restrain several people trying to scale the fences into the White House. There was the metallic bug, or so he thought, morphing into the officer, and that officer shooting an African-American student at Howard in the demonstration, and that student falling limp to the ground.
The president just sighed. "That's clearly something. What, I don't know. But something."
"Tell that to the rioters in Chicago and Los Angeles," warned Clapper. "Tell them something."