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Season One Finale
“I’m just concerned about using up what we have without there being anything more out there” Neal remarks, joining Athens’ most powerful pair of people as they travel the ballpark’s patio facing out at Lansdowne Street. “Unfortunately, that’s the harsh truth about our predicament, Neal” Leon confesses, keeping one hand tucked into the pocket of his trench coat whilst Jaime follows behind the pair, keeping from the conversation whilst the president handles his business. “We’re many years removed from the tragedy and there are still people living beyond these walls with just as much access to these leftovers as everyone else” the Athens spokesman continues, “we live in a ‘once it’s gone, it’s gone’ kind of world.” Shaking his head, Neal grimaces as he stares out at the street just beyond the stadium’s walls, visibly disapproving of such a conclusion. “I’m sorry, Leon. That’s just not going to cut it” the younger man remarks, surprising the community’s leader, “I know we’re not in the most preferable environment, but we still live in New England. I don’t care if we can’t make our own candles naturally... Running low is an unacceptable answer from you.” Pausing his stroll, Leon’s feet cease their movement forward, watching as the man who raises these concerns to him takes another few steps forward before realising the sudden halt. Keeping her nose from the discourse for the moment, Jaime halts her progress forward at the exact same time as her direct superior, watching as he stares at the third member of their travel without uttering a word. “I’m sorry if you find that disrespectful, Leon. Unfortunately, you can’t just leave us no choice and expect us to be alright with that” Neal reiterates, presenting his case with more civility, though remaining adamant in it, “you can’t just decide getting the heaters working isn’t possible and then tell us that we’re screwed once we run out of materials for our makeshift solutions.” “I’m not sure I know what you expect me to do, Mr. Donahugh” Leon confesses, taking a lone step back so he can lean against the railing overlooking Lansdowne. “We’ve been looking for people with expertise in anything, but it’s not like you can just find someone who used to be a beekeeper walking the streets of eastern Massachusetts” the president further clarifies, “I’d love to be able to find doctors and surgeons, or farmers and beekeepers all the time, but I can’t.” “Well there has to be a different way to make candles then. Or there has to be something that we can do for an alternative” Neal suggests, shaking his head as he thinks for solutions that are hard to come by, “hell, any solution that’s not ‘we can’t make new candles, ration what you have and good luck’ would work.” “I can promise you that I’ll work on seeing what I can do, but I can’t promise you a solution” Leon levels, licking at his chapped lips as he shrugs, “we’ve already got people going out past Worcester looking for these things as is.” Stepping forward, Jaime takes notice of the civilian’s displeasure and decides to prevent it from growing any further than what it already has. “We’ll try to think outside the box and figure out if there’s another solution to what we have” the second in command assures, seeing hopeful eyes fall back upon her from the concerned resident, “until then, you do the same thing. Stuff warm water bottles in your bed, organise groups to huddle around fire pits and chat to conserve warmth... Whatever comes to mind.” “Group fire pits?” Neal wonders aloud, his squint deepening as he looks toward the woman that the president’s eye soon veers toward. “Yeah. Get together in groups- maybe in the neutral zone if there are some pre-installed fire pits around there- and talk with each other with the fire going” Jaime responds, intriguing both men with the claim she’d made simply to end the discourse, “you can socialise, it’ll help more of you forget about the cold, and you’ll use up fewer tealights locking yourselves up and hiding away from the cold.” “We’ve got plenty of firewood. That might not be a bad idea” Leon remarks, letting his eyes drift back toward the citizen who’d come to air his grievances, “put in an order with Ruby for two or three of those packaged bricks and tell others to do the same. Just make sure you keep the fire contained once it’s lit.” “I will do. Thank you” Neal responds with satisfaction, turning to leave the area before a second thought spins him around once more, a grin being paid to the woman who’d supplanted the thought into his mind, “great idea, by the way!” Nodding her head before saluting the man as he walks off, Jaime lets her attention fall back upon the man that she’s surprised to find a smile waiting for her from. “What?” the former chancellor inquires, pressing her eyelids closer together as she looks into the president’s face, his smile being offered back in a sincere moment of pleasure. “That little plan of yours just did us a nice favour” Leon answers, watching his second in command roll her eyes and scoff, still visibly pleased to be complimented as such. “If you’re huddling people together in apartments and wherever else to cut down on supplies and keep people rooted, why not just create the same solution to conserve heating sources?” Jaime queries, seeing the man’s eyes drift to the side in self-reflection. “That’s beside the point, though. I feel like there needs to be a bigger conversation between us right now while we’re on the topic” the vice president explains, prompting her superior to brush beyond the impressive plan she’d put forth in favour of hearing her out. “Go ahead, Mrs. Vice President” Leon replies, crossing his arms to shield himself from the cold as he presses further back into the railing, only to find the woman’s face scrunching with displeasure. “Just call me Jaime, please. I appreciate the title, but I don’t want it domineering over people” the former chancellor comments, prompting the president to playfully laugh as she carries on with her original point. “Athens needs to be more self-sufficient. I don’t know where ‘Wooster’- or however you pronounced that city earlier- is, but we can’t rely on scavenging runs to keep this place afloat” Jaime remarks, watching her superior’s head pull back as she speaks. “I know you can’t just go out shopping for doctors beyond the border, but you do have people that live in Athens who used to have jobs” the woman recalls, “go around, figure out what jobs people used to do, and have them get back to their specialty.” “A good portion of our residents worked minimum wage jobs or had employment in fields that no longer exist. Lawyers, or these internet celebrities, or people who owned package stores” Leon explains, finding very little in the way of success to the woman’s point, “whoever did things before the tragedy that we needed are already working those jobs.” “You also have a ton of people from Free Boston trying to get access to Athens as well” Jaime reminds, seeing the man laugh at the notion, his arms crossing even further. “Of course, and the first people that we let in when we can are people that can offer experience in jobs we need that we didn’t already have” Leon responds, again finding the woman’s proposition to lead to a dead end. “What about people living in Free Boston right now that might not have thought about making the switch?” Jaime queries, finally finding some in-roads with the man who looks to her with puzzlement. “If they hadn’t thought to switch before, why would they want to switch now?” Leon questions back, only to find the same unsure shrug from the woman that had proposed the idea in the first place. “They may not have thought it was possible. Maybe they didn’t want to fall out of favour with their boss? Maybe they don’t make enough and would prefer our way of life?” Jaime rebuttals, not having a precise answer to the man’s question, “who knows why they hadn’t? All that matters is that there may be plenty of people in that category that we’re just not reaching yet.” “Well we can’t start displaying signs up in territory that’s not ours, so how do you expect us to get that message across? Word of mouth?” Leon wonders aloud, finding the same lack of certainty in the roll of the woman’s shoulders. “We could start putting up signs on our half of the neutral zone. Let them know that experienced workers are top priorities for us” Jaime answers, “maybe we even propose negotiating with whoever we bring in to give them more for their work than what most people get.” “That completely defeats the purpose of living in a commune. People get what they need and do their jobs in return for it” Leon responds, looking at the woman with an even more bewildered look than what he’d given her to this point, “then we’re just capitalist with material goods instead of paper money.” “I’m pretty sure you put me in charge knowing that Athens would have to become that some day if you weren’t around anymore” Jaime confesses, seeing a smile overtake the man’s face as he bows his head, amused by the recollection. “I’m very surprised at how quickly you put all of that together, for the record” Leon remarks, his compliment doing little to change the Angelino native’s demeanour. “Surrounding yourself with people you can trust like Velma and choosing someone like me to lead after you’re gone instead is worth asking questions about” Jaime responds, returning the conversation to its initial point, “I doubt people would care about specialists getting special treatment if it meant they could shower with actual hot water and live in heated homes.” “I’m sure you’re right about that. Nevertheless, it’s a concern that has to be taken into account” Leon responds, only to be met with as much resistance as he’d expected from the woman upon appointing her to this new position. “If there are people who have a problem with negotiating for what we’re in dire need of, I’m sure they’re among the minority” Jaime responds, beginning to walk off as she concludes whilst the president remains standing with a view of the nearby road, “we do what’s best for the community as a whole... not the few.” = Athens of America is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onwards = “I’m your henchman. There’s nothing about this job that’s particularly powerful or worth running for” Ken confesses, standing on his end of the desk whilst the black man he’d met with the day prior occupies the other, “the only reason you all want it is because it’s the only thing keeping you from buying control of the entire territory outright.” “The reason we want it is because Athens is across the neutral zone tempting the least-fortunate people here with promises of communist-comfort and threatening our hold on economic power” Ray retorts, “the longer they’re there, the more our market is tempted to bleed.” “Maybe if you weren’t all such greedy fucks, you wouldn’t have pissed so many people off in such a short amount of time” Ken rebuttals, amusing the man that doesn’t take kindly to the insult, but doesn’t lose his temperament over it either. “Seriously, haven’t you people realised that it’s within your interests to have less power?” the president furthers, speaking to the wealthy figure that squints toward his direction, “being the source of every institution just makes you no different than a faceless dictator.” “They know who we are, but even with that... Faceless dictators make it harder for the people to know where to attack from if they want to create change” Ray responds, “even if your analogy made sense, it still wouldn’t be applicable to this conversation.” Smirking, Ken rolls his eyes as he looks toward the corner of his office, the amused expression that’s worn upon his visage called into question by the man that meets with him. “No, it’d be even easier. They wouldn’t need to know where to attack, they’d just need to know who to attack. Then, they’d suffocate all of your avenues of wealth at the same time and bleed you little by little” Ken rebukes, pointing out the flaw in his adversary’s plan, “if you think people at their wits-end wouldn’t be willing to play the long game, I’ve got a lesson on how dictatorships are toppled for you so you can be a little more clued in.” “I really don’t like the tone you’re speaking to me in right now, Kenny” Ray warns, only to find little concern in the face of the man he lightly threatens. “Do you think the people will care about what you do or don’t like when you’ve starved them enough for arms to be taken up?” Ken questions back, trying to find the sense in the strongman’s claims, “unlike what Blake Dean thinks, getting rid of Athens won’t leave people thinking there’s no way out, it’ll just convince them the only solution is to revolt against what’s left... which is this.” “And you think abolishing this... the free nation of Free Boston... is going to slide with us?” Ray questions back, only to see further humour come over the president’s face, growing more tired with each grin that he receives. “The funniest part of all this is that you know how badly you’ve fucked them over that... even without spending a single dollar in anti-reunification campaigning... you already expect them to vote ‘yes’” Ken concludes, earning a headshake of refusal. “I don’t expect them to vote at all. I’ve got faith that you’ll see reason and not go on this mission of getting yourself killed” Ray corrects, a gesture that earns him a humoured expression that he can no longer tolerate. “Smile at me without being given a reason one more time and I will have you shot in the face before you can even sit down again” the well-dressed black man warns, finding the amusement stricken from the president’s face like a child whose candles on their birthday cake had just been blown out by their sibling. “You seem to fail to understand what you can earn from this referendum” Ken remarks, watching his more powerful foe roll his eyes and stare off at the ceiling without interest. “This referendum is just a ploy to get yourself re-elected, Kenny. Don’t play around and pretend that it’s not” Ray rejoinders, remaining as hesitant to entertain the idea as he had been since its declaration, “if it weren’t, then you wouldn’t tie the results into the purpose of the winter election.” “The only reason I tied it into the election is so that if people voted to reunify, I’d be able to trust who was in the driver’s seat entering those negotiations” Ken corrects, lifting his hands into the air as a display of surrender, “if you want to take it as a ploy to get me re-elected, go ahead. But if the referendum passes, I cannot trust you and your cohorts to do right by the people’s decision.” “For the last time, it-” Ray attempts to counter-argue, only to find his rebuttal interrupted by the president’s continuation. “You asked me a question, don’t stop me from answering it” Ken remarks, receiving an irritated glare from the powerful figure as he follows through on his retort. “If you can manage to convince people not to vote in favour of the referendum, then you leave the winter’s election clean as a whistle” the president clarifies, still seeing little sway in the perturbed eyes that he receives. “Whether it’s Wallace or Blake, you can do whatever you please and fuck over whoever you want without the people being able to say a damn thing” Ken comments, lifting a finger toward the exit of his office. “They know you’ve fucked them over and most of them know that you’ll continue to fuck them over. But the point is, you’ll always be able to point to the referendum failing” the president furthers, “you can’t argue that there’s anything to complain about when they chose to keep the status quo.” “Unless the ban was lifted on being able to purchase votes, we both know that there’d be few people willing to vote against the referendum” Ray responds, watching the president shrug without a satisfying reply. “Then I’d suggest you spend the next few months trying to open up non-profit soup kitchens and start getting your boys to install free housing for those who need it” Ken suggests, “there’s ways to make yourselves seem like reasonable enough people to trust with the wealth.” “I don’t care what your grand plan is or what kind of nonsense you’re trying to sell me on, Kenny... It’s not going to work” Ray responds, planting the palm of his hand against the president’s desk as he looks the man in the eyes, “you’re going to either retract your statement about the referendum and keep yourself in this chair for the rest of your term, or you’re going to stand by this stupid plan and struggle to make it through each day for lack of a better term.” Bowing his head, Ken stares at the ground as one of Free Boston’s four integral faceless figureheads walks through the door, leaving his office with the same demand of the nation’s founder that he’d had one day earlier. Not having seen the meeting go as he’d hoped, the president lowers himself into his chair and leans against its back, lost for much in the way of an idea on where to go from here. | Scrubbing at a ceramic dish with the rough side of a sponge, Velma stares through the window just ahead of her as the sun continues to beat down on a colder day than usual, trying to pass the time of her brief chore with anything that can take her mind away from the work at hand. Without water running through the faucet, the woman takes the handle of a kettle into her soapy hand and carefully runs it over the newly-minted eating surface, returning it to a sparkling, white shine before setting it aside. As she reaches for another dirty dish, the woman’s eyes take back to the window as a woman’s figure walks past, venturing beyond in favour of approaching the end of the patio. With a squint, the woman catches brunette locks that appear more familiar to her than others, a similar attire that she knows a friend to wear being all that she needs to see in order to make an adequate assumption. Quickly swiping her hands through the air, Velma wipes off whatever water and soap remains on the long, white shirt that sits upon her, venturing beyond the backdoor in favour of calling out the woman she believes that she’d caught. “Sid!?” she proclaims as she steps outside, watching the woman turn around with wide eyes before suddenly relaxing, the tension in her shoulders dropping as the girl lets out a sigh of relief. “You caught me off guard” Sidney confesses, surprising the suite’s tenant as she looks back the way that she’d come, curiously squinting at the flat she calls home. “Why? I live here” Velma responds, hearing her friend’s laughter before continuing, “this is literally my home. Where else did you expect me to be?” “I don’t know. Following Leon out there somewhere, I guess” Sidney replies, chuckling as she takes a seat upon one of the stools that had initially been built into the concrete foundation. “Most of that is Jaime’s job now. I’ve got more free time on my hands to do the dishes and... whatever else I need to do” Velma corrects, crossing her arms as a cold wind rolls through the concourse, “it’s fuckin’ freezing out, why the hell are you just walking around?” “Because I needed to get away from the diamond” Sidney admits, looking toward the direction of what had once served as the stadium’s playing surface, though unable to see it from the place in which she stands, other than through the windows of her friend’s flat. “People are getting pissy with each other about all the restrictions on rations” the girl admits, looking to continue her explanation before Velma cuts her off. “Would you like to come inside? It’s a little less, y’know... cold in there” Velma offers, earning an appreciative grin from the woman that accepts the offer without verbal reply, venturing onward and feeling the kiss of warm air run over her. “People are going out and picking up firewood for tonight, but everyone’s pretty annoyed at everything else” Sidney explains, shaking her head as she hugs herself, running her hands up the length of her arms to keep warm now that she’s shielded from the northeastern air. “Food portions are getting smaller, a restock of candles doesn’t seem to be on the horizon for at least a month, we’re running low on toothpaste-” Sidney remarks, making such proclamations to a woman who already knows such. “Yeah, yeah, I got it. I know what we’re low on. It’s not easy and we’re not going to pretend that it is” Velma responds, stomping out the concern that’s presented like a fireman’s boot to a patch of grass that doesn’t wish to be put out, “Jaime came up with an idea we’re hoping will help with that a little.” “What kind of plan? I thought we tried everything?” Sidney inquires, pressing her back into the suite’s drywall whilst Velma looks away, her arms remaining crossed as her lips pull apart and stay that way for a few, silent seconds. “Y’know, I’m not really sure. She just said she had an idea, that Leon was alright with it, and she’d let me know if she needed my help” the flat resident replies, “other than that, I assume it’s not important for me to know unless I’m needed.” Accepting the terms of this explanation, Sidney shrugs before looking out toward the baseball diamond, watched on by her friend as she quietly hopes that the response will be left unquestioned. “It’s growing less pleasant out there every day” the brunette visitor comments, allowing Velma to let a hushed sigh of relief free as her attention takes toward the field, “I know we’re in a worse position than we are when we started off, but I still hope it doesn’t get too much worse.” “That makes two of us” Velma quickly responds with a nod, prompting the woman who’d unintentionally stopped in for a visit to look at her with a squint. With a sudden fit of laughter, Sidney’s eyes light up as she steps forward and pats her friend on the shoulder. “Thanks for letting me drop in for a second. I’ll see you later” she cheerfully thanks, walking through the backdoor with hands a little less frosty than they had been when she’d entered, thinking nothing of the facially-scarred obstinate’s response other than how humoured she was by it. | “It looks really nice, doesn’t it?” Leon questions aloud, returning from the kitchen of his flat with a pair of bourbon glasses, finding his vice president staring out at the tops of little buildings where the baseball field had once been, finding dozens of people crowded around a handful of fire pits and socialising with each other, enjoying their company and the warmth that comes from what brings them together. “It’s certainly peaceful-looking, that’s for sure” Jaime confesses, appreciatively accepting one of the drinks as it’s handed to her, refusing to drink from it before reciprocating the clinking of both glasses that the president proposes, not wanting to disrespect his generosity. “Seeing everyone get along with each other like brothers and sisters they never would’ve had without the tragedy makes it easier to think about those days” Leon confesses, looking out at the sea from the comfort of his own residence. “Are you sure it makes it easier to remember those days? Or does it just make what happened a lot less painful to think about?” Jaime challenges, earning a smile that she doesn’t take notice of, too focused on looking at the sight that captures the president’s eye to take interest in the reflection of his face upon the frigid, glass window. “I guess you could argue both, but I more so mean the first one” Leon answers, his body relaxed and mind clear of concerns over the future in favour of fondly recalling memories of the past. “Everyone was so scared until they just weren’t. All of their worries just began melting away the second that they realised there was a way to be okay” the president speaks warmly, his breath fogging the glass ahead of him just slightly, “we’ve grown more disgruntled with the situation we’re in, but we’ve always found a way to come back to each other.” Shrugging, Jaime lifts the glass to her face before pausing, continuing to look out as the cold air continues to surround them, “it must be nice” she murmurs before following through on her sip. With a raised left eyebrow, Leon looks toward his second in command with a grin as she stares out at the Athens night, eventually turning his focus toward the community as well before responding to her comment. “What must be nice? Thinking fondly of those days or coming back to each other?” he inquires, neither face turning toward each other as the woman sits with the question for a moment, a lean in her head toward her right shoulder offering her a moment of reprieve. “I’m not sure” she confesses, taking another sip from her drink before her eyes soon take toward the suite’s exit, the rest of her body venturing toward it as she walks, “I’m going to go for a walk. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Without hearing any reply, Jaime carries herself into the winter’s relentless attack before finding herself scaling the stairs that had been built into the level in search of higher grounds. One by one, she ascends each step as the winds whip across her face like a freezer-burned leather belt, refusing to leave her pale skin without kisses of cold that present themselves through rosy-cheeks and blown-back strands of hair. “You definitely are sure” a man’s voice comments, prompting the new vice president to turn back and face who calls for her attention as she strolls toward the end of Lansdowne Pavilion. “You don’t care about the earlier days of the Catalyst. You’d rather forget about them than anything else. They weren’t important” the dark-skinned figment of her imagination rebuttals, “what’s important is us. What’s nice is thinking you could reunite with the people that you love.” Parting her lips, Jaime stares back at the man without the ability to speak, struggling to come up with the words to respond with before deciding to avert her eyes, staring into the distance of the frigid, winter air. “I can do a lot of good here, Jordan. I can do what the NDF wouldn’t let me” the former chancellor replies, seeing the shake of her fiance’s head refuse to agree with her claim. “As well-meaning as you think these people are, they’re still not your people” Jordan retorts, an apologetic visage carried over the display of his apparition, “the fact is that they’ll never be your people. You know who your people are and you know that there’s no reunion for you.” Pressing her eyelids shut, Jaime lets her head hang as she presses her tongue against the roof of her mouth, only to be lulled into turning away, facing the bannister overlooking Lansdowne Street. “He’s got a point, you know?” a woman remarks, lifting the eyebrow of her apparition’s face as she shrugs, “you already knew that, though. That’s why you were willing to die back in the republic.” Prompting the woman with a brand new title of superiority to cloud the air with another heavy breath, the second figment of the vice president’s mind awaits a response that she already anticipates. “I didn’t know that this was out here waiting for me, Kate. You know that” Jaime rebuttals, seeing the lack of seriousness that her claim is taken with. “What does it matter, Jaime? You still conjure up visions of us to lull you down from your depressing thoughts because of how rooted you are to home” Kate rejoins, watching as Jordan passes his fiance in favour of approaching the therapist’s ghostly side, “look at your breath, for crying out loud! You’re not meant for a climate where you can see your breath!” “They don’t have to be my people in order for me to care about them” Jaime refutes, watching a pair of glances toward each other being taken by those whose images she conjures up for safety. “I mean, you don’t. That’s true. We won’t argue with you on that” Jordan responds, gradually assuring the woman of her conclusions with an unsure tone in his voice, “but even with that, you know that you’ll never really feel like you’re at home here, right?” “Of course she does, Jordan” Kate replies, interacting with the woman’s illusion on her behalf, taking pleasure in doing so, “why do you think she still chooses to live in a hotel room? She’s not prepared to live out the rest of her days here.” “There’s nothing wrong with this place” Jaime defends, watching Jordan lift his hands in surrender whilst the woman she puts up the defence against waves her own palms at the vice president. “I’m not saying there is, I’m just saying it’ll never be your place” Kate rebuttals, watching her former patient look away with defeat, staring into the night as the unlit skyline of downtown Boston resides within the distance she can only see through because of the frost in the air. “Face it, Jaime. This isn’t your story to tell, it’s theirs. This is their domain. Athens is their home. You can ingratiate yourself within it, sure! But this place will never be yours” Kate remarks, watching the chancellor of the fallen republic look back at her with a sombre stare. “At the end of the day, the home you belonged to is gone. It’s over and done with” Jordan doubles down, speaking in a more calm and neutral voice. “I may not feel at home now, but that will change” Jaime quickly retorts, stepping forward with a finger pointing toward the ground, her occupied hand letting the glass of bourbon hang at her side, “as much as I miss them, I don’t need mom, or Kennedy, or Chevy, or Kayla, or anyone to justify building a life here.” Frowning as she looks toward her former patient, Kate wears a similar expression to what the woman’s fiance wears, Jordan’s face taking toward the distant sight of scattered fire pits upon rooftops built to bring people together as opposed to shielding them from being brought together. “When the day comes where things start to feel like I’m back in a place where I belong, I’ll know it. That I promise you” Jaime concludes, further stepping forward and staring down those who she invisions standing across from her. “I’ll have a lift in my eyebrow, a new fire in my eyes, and smug smile on my fucking face” the vice president proclaims, making her point clear and resonant beyond doubt, “when will that day come? I don’t know. But Athens is big enough for me to find a rightful home.” Dropping their unamused demeanours, Kate and Jordan take another glance at each other before looking toward the woman who’d conjured their images up, nodding to her before vanishing within the blink of an eye, leaving the vice president back to her lonesome. With peace and quiet restored, Jaime finds herself without a soul around, alone on the terrace with nothing but the distant sounds of banter amongst the community’s dwellers to draw her attention in. Approaching the closest railing toward the ballpark’s central field, the vice president rests one warm hand atop the freezing, metal bars whilst the other lifts the bourbon to her lips for a swig, descending just as the second in command’s chin does, eyes keeping still upon the gathered community as the corner of her mouth forms a genuine grin, her eyes staring warmly at the sight as their collective enjoyment lifts her spirits and calms her head. == Athens of America ==
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“What is this about?” Blake contests, climbing out of the chair he’d taken upon hearing of his rally’s delay hours prior, hands held out at each side as he approaches the well-dressed president. “Sudden change of plans for my day. I needed to address the public and decided that I liked the acoustics here more than where Sparks is holding his” Ken answers, adjusting the flaps of his jacket as he walks through the door.
“I thought there were rules you set for these campaigns” Blake rebuttals, watching the man approach before carrying on past him, following the president each step of the way, “you can take the venue without notice, but you can’t do it to campaign for your own re-election.” Grunting as he struggles to slip one button of his blazer into the slot it belongs to halfway up the outfit, Ken continues to carry himself toward the stage set up directly at one end of the building. “I’m not campaigning for my re-election” Ken reassures upon finally fitting his suit into place, reaching for the railing that stands at one side of the steps before taking the first stair up. “What the hell are you doing then? What is this all about?” Blake queries, pressing his hands to his hips as he remains standing on the ground, aware that he can’t follow the nation’s leader onto the platform that he, himself, was meant to occupy on this night. “Something that you’re not going to like” the president answers, climbing the rest of the way to the stage before receiving as cold of a reaction from the hostile audience as one could anticipate. Looking away whilst shaking his head, Blake lets the president’s security carry past him before retreating to the sound of the audience’s collective jeering, their displeasure for the man who’d founded the nation they call home refusing to hide itself behind pressed lips. His face sporting the lifted eyebrows of a man neither bothered, nor phased by the negative reception that he receives, Ken casually approaches the podium that the icon of the collective audience was meant to occupy himself, clearing his throat before doing so. “Thank you for the warm welcome” the president sarcastically comments, receiving an even louder chorus of booing as he chuckles to himself, keeping his satisfaction at the elicited response mostly subdued. Jeering as loudly as they can, the populace vehemently in support of the man that their president had ousted from being able to speak tonight refuse to allow their voices to cease their aggression without it being earned. Seeing this and continuing to hear the roar of those who couldn’t be less enthused by his presence if they tried, Ken lets his humoured expression begin to settle as he lifts a hand toward the audience, letting it remain in the air changing nothing about his reception for a few seconds before speaking. “The sooner you let me speak, the sooner I can leave and the sooner Mr. Dean can join you on stage” Ken comments, offering the audience their choices and waiting for them to choose as the jeering begins to slowly settle. Within a minute, the roaring begins to die down as those who choose to settle their negative ovation favour telling each other to follow suit, one by one lessening the thunderous howling of the crowd to free the air for their elected leader to speak. “It’s been less than a year since I was elected to this position, and I’ll acknowledge that I haven’t done a fantastic job at keeping you from being taken advantage of” the president declares, owning up to the shortcomings that bring so many people to this building in the first place. “Many of you are homeless, many of you don’t have food, many of you don’t feel safe, and many of you live life in a way that I can’t imagine” Ken declares, shaking his head with disapproval, “there’s no argument against that.” Hearing the leader’s voice reflecting off the roof and the walls of the building he’d booked for the evening, Blake remains standing off stage with his arms crossed, looking into the distance with eyes on the ceiling, trying to follow the sound of the president’s voice with his glare. “I’ll be honest, I see that as a bigger problem than perhaps many of you realise” Ken confesses, placing the palms of either hand against the surface of the rostrum. “I’ve forced you to look to people like Mr. Dean for your hope when I was the one elected to give you that” he furthers, drawing only a few rounds of applause from members of the audience who don’t pay attention other than the dropping of their preferred candidate’s name. “Let’s be honest, Mr. Dean is just as guilty of dragging you into a lack of prosperity as any of the other business owners in Free Boston” Ken remarks, drawing a much greater rounds of boos than the minute applause the rival candidate’s name had elicited seconds prior. “Does he not, Free Boston? Is he not one of two people in charge of operating that farm in the old village? Does he not have near-sole control of emergency services?” Ken questions back, still earning a poor reception, “let’s be honest with ourselves. He’s just as bad as anyone else, but you feel forced to buy into the narrative he’s painting.” Drawing further ire from the audience, the incumbent president lifts a hand and hangs his head, gesturing for the audience that he will remain standing by patiently in wait for his next opportunity to speak. Quietly keeping to himself beyond the audience’s line of sight, Blake smirks to himself and conceals his laughter, taking joy and amusement from the piss-poor reception that the man he wishes to dethrone in a year’s time earns from his supporters. Making an effort to give into reason, the more vocal members of Dean’s audience begin lulling their negative feedback once more at the behest of the level-headed within them, gradually opening the space up for the president to continue speaking again. “I don’t have as much power as many of you think that I do. Most of what goes on in Free Boston comes from those who have the social power here” Ken explains to a more hushed audience, “you’re lying to yourselves if you think Blake isn’t one of those people.” Again receiving jeers, Ken presses his lips together with a half-grin and half-frown, watching the audience continue to receive him as poorly as they had when he’d first taken the stage, remaining as patient as he has been through the entire evening. At the same time, Blake shifts his grimace into a more satisfied smirk at the sound of his crowd’s rejection of the president’s comments, feeling the small amount of tension within his upper body lessen as their poor pallet for the leader’s verbal salad makes itself present. “I’ve decided to give those of you who support Dean because you feel like I’ve given you no other choice an actual second choice” Ken proclaims, speaking as if he were on the campaign trail in a way that Blake no longer concerns himself with off stage, keeping his hopes that the president is taking over his rally to turn it into one of his own with how poor it’s gone thus far. “I’ve decided to let the election in around a year’s time be both a choice for who you want to represent Free Boston, as well as a referendum on Free Boston as a whole” Ken explains, prompting the audience’s vocal displeasure for him to begin settling down. Unsure of what’s meant by this, the audience unknowingly joins Blake in looking on with confusion, their growing hush allowing for the president to explain. “One thing that’s become apparent is that people start fleeing to Athens when the going gets too tough to manage here. To many, the idea of one person making sure that everyone has the same thing as each other is preferable to what we have here” Ken confesses, looking out at the audience and their perplexed expressions staring back at him. “Pretend that Mr. Dean isn’t just like the rest of the people controlling what you do or don’t get if you want, but the fact is that Free Boston has a very small amount of people controlling things from the very top...” the president continues, lifting one hand to point a finger into the audience that suddenly becomes far more quiet than it had been throughout the night, “...and none of you are one of them.” Finally criticising the audience’s line of thought without receiving massive blowback for it, Ken is left returning his palm to the flat surface of his tribune, looking out at the audience as they wait to hear him out. “President Leon Grave over in Athens has come over to speak with me a few times in the last few weeks to point this out to me. Unfortunately, I already knew what he had long before he told me” the Free Boston founder continues, pressing his lips together in a frown. Continuing to squint as he looks toward the heavens, the amusement in Blake’s visage completely disperses as he goes just as quiet and becomes just as reserved as the rest of his supporters do, trying to uncover where the president is going with this address. “In addition to appointing- amongst other things- a pro-expansionist vice president, President Grave has informed me that he’s willing to open Athens to Free Bostonians more than he has been in the past” Ken confesses, continuing to receive silence. “He’s not willing to go all-in on being a federally-supervised capitalist utopia or anything, but he’s willing to improve the relationship between our two sides in ways that might help prevent you all from feeling like you’re trapped in a prison you’re destined to suffer in” the president explains, watching the audience’s doubts appear present through their posture, though their mouths refuse to part in an effort to stifle his comments. “Halfway between now and the vote to elect a new president of Free Boston, I’m going to hold a public referendum protected by the same terms as our leadership elections” Ken explains, following through on the point of his trip to Blake’s neck of the woods, “a referendum that will allow you to decide whether or not you want to live a life of depending on others making you promises that you can only hope they’ll keep.” Whilst some don’t understand the term, others don’t understand the point that’s trying to be made, a reality that prompts the man who makes them this promise to double down. “In the summer of next year, I’ll give you the option to choose whether or not you want Free Boston to merge back with the Nation of Athens in a federal, communal-capitalist society” Ken declares, earning an immediate wave of hushed surprise from the audience that now understands his more-direct explanation. “A group of people that you will vote for would oversee a unified Free Boston-Athens government tasked with allowing trade and bartering just like what we’d negotiated for when our two sides had been forced into one years ago...” the president furthers, “...whilst remaining rooted in Athens’ control of keeping people from growing too powerful to be controlled by those that you have chosen to be spoken for.” Garnering interest at the very least, the president looks out at the audience as they speak amongst each other, discussing what’s vowed to them whilst the nation’s leader carries on. “If Free Boston votes ‘no’, then nothing will change. The election next winter will be just to determine Free Boston’s next leader and that’s it” Ken continues to remark, lifting a finger amidst his pause, “but if Free Boston votes ‘yes’, then the election next winter will be for both a president and a decision.” Scowling, Blake squints his right eye at the sound of the proclamation that bounces off the roof, echoing toward him before reverberating back across the athletic grounds. “Each candidate in next winter’s election must take a stance either in favour of reunification or against it” Ken announces, pressing the palm of his hand against his chest, “if the referendum passes, then who Free Boston votes for next winter will be someone who either refuses to accept the referendum, or who carries out the people’s decision and approves it.” Receiving no applause for his comments, Ken watches many within the audience at least nod or look toward him with faces of pleasure at the opportunity that’s provided. “I’ll lead by example and confess that I am in favour of the reunification after the last few years” the president comments, standing his ground and doing his part, “I have failed to lead you adequately, but I will not leave office without trying to make right in that and giving you a way out of the mess I made for you. Thank you and goodnight.” Turning back without anything more to add, Ken suddenly makes his way to the steps that he’d ascended and returns to the backstage area, finding a perturbed candidate waiting for him with crossed arms and an angry visage. “This is not going to go over well with the others, Mr. Spence” Blake remarks, watching the shrug that the president returns to him precede the unbothered expression that the president wears. “I’m doing you a favour, Mr. Dean. You’re not the man that you make yourself out to be for these people, and you have just as much control of those others as I do. So if you think your presidency would go any differently than mine, you’re leading a farce” Ken responds, patting the powerful figure on the shoulder as he prepares to walk away, “had it not been me making this offer to them tonight, it would’ve been your head on the chopping block when they forced you to give it to them two years from now.” Looking back toward the stage with his bottom lip sucked between his teeth, Blake allows the president to carry on with his night without further comment, having nothing left to offer the man who’s already chosen to play his cards as they are. With a click, the candidate’s mouth opens as he lets out a deep breath and swipes at his own chest, running out any of the creases in his suit jacket as he climbs the steps, returning to the stage to the sound of a massive ovation with his hands raised high in the air, waving to his supporters. = Athens of America is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onwards = “You may enter, wise one” Leon jokes, calling back toward the entrance of his suite whilst rummaging through his dresser in search of a shirt for his currently uncovered upper half. “Are you planning on dying or something that I don’t know about?” Velma questions aloud the moment she steps through the door, catching the president of her ballpark-centred nation by surprise, though his unmoved reaction wouldn’t suggest such to be the case. “Well, if I was going to die, I’d like it to be of a heart attack while I’m high on cocaine and surrounded by beautiful, naked women” Leon responds, shrugging as he puckers his lips and shakes his head, “so, if you’re planning my death, I’d appreciate it if you followed that request.” As indifferent to the man’s comments as he was to her sudden inquiry over his perceived mortality, Velma tilts her head to the side with her mouth agape, the bottom of her jaw shifting to the right. “Why do you ask, Velly?” Leon inquires, laughing off their brief exchange of humour in favour of returning to his search for a reasonable shirt. “Because Jaime came up to me a few days ago- before you publicly named her as the V.P- and said something that I just can’t shake from my head” Velma answers, crossing her arms before walking over to the man’s bed, taking a seat at the end of it as the president reaches into a stack of shirts and picks out a light grey, long-sleeved shirt. “Should I ask or should I have stayed quiet and waited for you to tell me?” Leon queries, slipping the article of clothing away from its pile before turning back toward the woman. “She said you named her the vice president because you wanted Athens to be modelled more like the Angelino Republic if anything were to happen to you that left her in charge” Velma responds, watching the man dress as she speaks, “she said Athens as it stands probably wouldn’t exist for long without you.” “That’s interesting” Leon responds, walking over to the kitchen without saying anything else at first, pausing as he lifts the kettle from its base and pours its water into the french press already fitted with the coffee his closest confidants cannot tolerate. “I was wondering if she even cared to question what would have moved me to name her as the vice president. I figured there was a chance she might not” the president confesses, “but not only did she question it, but she found the answer pretty fast.” “So it’s true?” Velma questions back, looking at the man as he carefully lowers the kettle back down, reaching for the plunger that he slowly fits back into the top of the beaker. “The only reason people decided to start following my orders was because they saw me stand out there and throw myself on the sword when everyone else was too scared to” Leon replies, lifting an eyebrow as he walks to the opposite side of the room from the woman who visits him, “the only reason Athens still lets the current status quo slide is because it hasn’t grown too out of control not to.” “While I don’t necessarily disagree with you, I don’t think that Athens needs to change in order to survive” Velma responds, allowed to continue speaking as the president ventures over to a chair and sits opposite his confidant. “Don’t get me wrong, I think we should eventually. But I don’t necessarily believe we’ll need to just because you stop being president for some reason” the visitor continues, “I think people will rally around whoever you tell them to rally around.” “So who should I have named to succeed me?” Leon questions back, only to watch the woman’s head begin to shake without second thought. “Who you choose has nothing to do with this. I think Jaime’s fit for the job and I just want her to be devoted enough to doing it for me to trust that she’ll always do what’s best for Athens” Velma corrects, watching the president lean forward in his seat with hands coupled in his lap. “I don’t think Athens would need to dramatically shift in any way after you go just to avoid chaos breaking out” she adds on, receiving no push back from the man across from her, but choosing to fall silent as she sees his lips begin to part with the intention of speaking. “I think the only reason that people follow my orders is because they feel like they’re indebted to me” Leon admits, speaking in a tone that sounds more like a whisper, but carries a volume more than capable of filling the air. “If I gave them extreme orders, I have a hard time believing that there’d be many people willing to push back against me” he continues, wearing an enthusiastic grin so as not to leave the room’s atmosphere feeling too heavy and overbearing. “If someone else took my place, I don’t think they’d have as easy a time of keeping Athens running the way that it is. The people aren’t indebted to that person” Leon concedes, unbothered by what he says, “Athens would need to evolve with its leader.” “You say that as if Ken Spence hadn’t just offered Free Boston a chance to unify with us one week ago” Velma retorts, watching light fill the eyes of the Athens figurehead as he bows his head with laughter, humouring the woman that speaks to him enough to earn a grin from her as well. “If Free Boston chooses to unify, then I won’t need to worry about needing to change since it’ll already happen” Leon comments, a conclusion that his friend doesn’t react to with anything other than averting eyes. “Listen, Jaime seemed to have something good going on a scale far larger than what we have between Athens and Free Boston. It was only ruined by powers out of her control” the man explains, watching his friend’s eyes take back toward him as he offers reassurance, “if I go and the people need a reason to keep believing in Athens without me, I trust that she’ll be able to put what she did in Los Angeles to use here.” | “I think you’re stepping on toes that you’d been pretty good about not stepping on until now” an older man with grey hair trimmed in a short, yet professional manner remarks. “No one’s saying that it’s popular, Gerald. But what I am saying is that it’s a necessity that most of you don’t realise is a necessity yet” Ken retorts, casually leaning back in his chair without receiving a flattering reception from those that his office hosts. “Before the tragedy, there was a reason why governments didn’t spend money on infrastructure upgrades until things started falling apart, Kenny” a black man remarks from the chesterfield in the corner of the president’s office, wearing a suit and sitting with one hand draped over the armrest and one leg crossed over the other. “Ray’s right. You’ve got to let the people see things crumbling before you fix the crumbling” Gerald doubles down, the only one within the room that has refused to take a seat, “if you fix the problem before it becomes one, all people do is complain that you spent resources fixing a problem that didn’t seem to be one.” “Unfortunately, the four of you are only here because you realise that it already is a problem, and you’re trying to get me to back off because you’re afraid everything you have is going to crumble” Ken responds, swaying his unbothered head from side to side as he shrugs. “The four of you are thugs that keep the people beneath your finger. That’s the crumbling, and people already see it” the president doubles down, “they’re not asking why I’d bother fixing a non-problem, they’re asking why I didn’t do it sooner.” “The campaign that I’ve run has already proven that they can be convinced we’re out to help them rather than use them, Mr. Spence” Blake interjects, sitting on the opposite end of the chesterfield from Ray before jutting his chin toward Wallace across the room, “and to his credit, Mr. Sparks has been convincing the more level-headed of them the same thing when he’s not boring them to sleep.” “The four of you haven’t convinced anyone of anything, which is why we’re in this mess to begin with” Ken responds, leaning forward with an end to his relaxed posture as he couples his hands upon the desk. “I’m the president, so they blame me when they can’t get a meal. But make no mistake about it, they know exactly who’s keeping the food out of their hands” the president warns, “I’m just the middleman for blame here. Winning the presidency for either of you means that you just become the middleman and the rightfully blamed.” “Our rallies would not see such high attendance if they thought about us what they do” Blake responds, watching the president sway his head from side to side as he shrugs. “Not now, but they certainly wouldn’t be so enthusiastic when you hold them for re-election, now would they?” Ken retorts, voicing his disbelief in the men across the room from him, “you don’t have any idea how to stop their bleeding... none of you do. One one of you becomes the face for your oppression, the rest of you will by association.” “I would choose my words very carefully if I were you, Ken” Galen warns, seeing a lack of care in the visage of the president that throws hands out at either side, untroubled by the threats that find themselves levied at him. “Do you think I’d have propositioned the people this if I gave a damn what the four of you thought of me? I know how this works” Ken remarks, looking the older gentleman in the eyes as he gradually leans back in his seat. “Nothing that I’ve said here in this room today has been wrong... It’s just been stuff that you don’t want to hear” the president restates, pointing a finger at the man that stands over him, “you’ve built a house of cards, but you keep convincing yourself that winds can’t possibly get faster than a calm exhale... So there’s no way it can be knocked over.” “Getting Athens out of the picture would certainly go a long way in preventing the need for a referendum, wouldn’t it?” Blake questions aloud, challenging the president’s thought before being surprised to find a grin handed back to him. “Do you honestly think that Athens is the only other force you’ll ever have to worry about?” Ken wonders aloud, seeing a squint roll through most of the souls within the room. “Leon Grave just named a woman from Los Angeles as his new vice president. Do you know why she’s here?” the president inquires, seeing a lack of care taken in the faces of those that stand opposite from him. “If you don’t, you’ll certainly get to find out if she chooses to let you know. But not knowing is also the reason I can guarantee that all of you are in over your heads if you think that little Athens is the biggest fish you’ll have to fry... And the biggest one in the pond is not us” Ken concludes. “We’re getting way off topic here, Kenny” Ray remarks, buttoning the middle-most button of his suit jacket as he climbs off the sofa, approaching Gerald’s side whilst looking the president in the eyes, “you’ve made our lives a lot more difficult with that little stunt last week. You’re lucky we haven’t put our collective differences aside just for the purposes of sending you a message.” Grinning, Ken presses further back into his seat and looks to the side of the office, allowing the fortunate civilian to offer his comments whilst pretending to be a captivated audience. “I don’t care what the people want and neither do the rest of us. The resources you’ve just demanded from us to campaign people away from this unification dream you have is unacceptable” Ray declares, snapping his fingers in the air to gesture that the president looks him in the eyes, “squash it or we’ll squash you.” Carrying a squint, Ken watches the lone black man turn away and retreat for the office’s exit, having said his peace and made himself clear beyond doubt. “I’d listen to Ray if I were you, Ken” Gerald proceeds, stepping backward in the direction of the man whom he doubles down on the claim of, “you’re very close to getting out of office unscathed. It’d be smart of you to retract this vow.” Letting his eyes fall to the surface of his desk, Ken watches as Wallace climbs out of his seat without uttering a word, the older candidate’s eyes immediately taking toward his younger contemporary. “If you luck your way into the presidency, I’d be very careful with how I approach the public, kid” the elder of the presidential hopefuls warns, not caring to address the incumbent president at the back of the room, “if you prove to be what brings this place down, you will be discarded of violently.” “You already know that I’m going to win this election, Wallace” Blake retorts in a smug tone, matching the older man’s stance of climbing off of the sofa whilst approaching his opponent, believing that the incumbent’s hopes of re-election die alongside his referendum. “I have a reason to believe you stand a very good chance of it, yes...” Wallace replies, closing the distance that the younger of the men had purposefully left between them as his voice lowers to a whisper, “...that’s why I’m warning you.” Having made his point, Wallace steps out of the office and follows his fellow high-ranking figureheads in venturing beyond the president’s chambers, leaving his young opponent in the room, alone with the incumbent. Turning his scowl toward the man behind the desk, Blake lets one hand slide into his pocket whilst the other hangs loosely by his side. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” the younger figure of wealth with hopes of soon claiming that chair that Ken currently occupies questions back, “you had to make trouble on your way out of Athens, and you had to make trouble on your way out of here.” Shaking his head with disgust, Blake leaves his comment at that and leaves the office, following the trail of his fellow men of fortunate stance whilst the president watches on, given his ultimatum and promised consequences. == Athens of America == “I’m going to go around and ask if anyone has an issue with this” Leon remarks, handing a glass of bourbon to his new direct subordinate whilst standing within the makeshift kitchen as his eyes drift toward the man with his arms crossed in the corner. “I trust that Jaime’s going to be a great vice president” Jay responds, taking his opportunity to speak once the president’s face turns toward him.
“I talked to her for a minute on the steps last night, and she’s got her head screwed on right from what I can find” he furthers, turning his face toward the woman in question, “it’s obviously your call, Leon. But I think you made a good one.” Surrounded by the warm light of the president’s suite, Jaime smiles toward the man she’d been joined in a trip from Los Angeles alongside, raising her glass toward him before setting her sight upon the woman across the room from him. “I like Jaime and I think she’ll do great” Sidney responds, sitting on a chair in the corner of the room with a half-smile on her face, though her comments are received with less acceptance from the man in charge than her fellow rider’s. “Can you give us a little bit more than that?” Leon questions aloud, leaning against the countertop whilst staring past his newest appointee. “Why?” the woman rebuttals, furrowing her brows as she stares at the leader of her ballpark-centred community, “you don’t need me to justify your decisions.” Pressing his lips together, the president looks toward the ground before shrugging, letting his eyes lift back to find the woman standing directly opposite him, leaning against the wall beside his suite’s entrance. “How about you, Velly?” Leon wonders aloud, allowing Sidney’s claim to go unquestioned as he sets his focus upon the neutral expression that finds his eyes. “What do you want me to say, Leon? Do you want me to push back against it?” Velma questions with both hands tucked into the pockets of a jacket that’s tied with a string around her abdomen, “you’re a grown man. If this is your call, who am I to tell you what to do?” “I’m not asking any of you to push back or argue against my decision, I want to hear your opinions on this” Leon retorts, adjusting his posture as he pushes off the counter, rounding it and walking toward the centre of the room. “I believe in this call, but it’s one that has everything riding on it” the president continues, watching the eyes of his most trusted confidants fall into various distances as he speaks to them. “There’s no one in Athens that I trust the opinion of more than you three. When I ask for your thoughts on something, I don’t expect you to phone it in and tell me what I want to hear” the man proclaims, watching each set of eyes trail toward him, “I asked for your opinions, so give me your opinions.” “I don’t have any opinion stronger to offer than what I gave you in all honesty” Jay first answers, pulling back in his seat with a relaxed demeanour, “she seems to think the way you want someone in a position of power to think, and having led a community- or a republic as she wants you to call it- in the past is an advantage.” “So you have no reservations?” Leon questions back, watching the man’s eyes pull away from himself before setting upon his new vice president, Jaime’s reluctance to get involved in what’s unfolding before her giving the only man in the room other than the president the floor to work with. “She already knows what I expect from her” Jay concedes, continuing to look at the former chancellor as he answers the leader’s question, “as long as she puts Athens and our people first... I’m on board.” For only a few seconds, Leon looks toward the man in the wake of his conclusion before settling his mind with the man’s opinion, taking it as it’s presented before redirecting his line of sight toward the two women standing on opposite sides of the room across from him. “In all honesty, I don’t see why we’re having this meeting if it’ll change nothing” Sidney confesses, taking the reins to continue with the order that had initially been established. “I wouldn’t vote against Jaime to be clear, but even if I had the greatest issue with your call- it wouldn’t change anything” Sidney explains, looking the president in the eyes as she questions his intent, “we’re just wasting time talking about something that isn’t going to change regardless.” “I think if you really wanted to take our opinions into play, you would’ve asked us for them before you offered her the job” Velma finally comments, piggy-backing off the statement the woman off to her right had made whilst the room centres its attention upon her. Visibly disheartened to hear such a conclusion, Leon looks at his close confidant with a frown whilst she takes one step forward, capturing the focus of the conversation. “No matter what we say, this is still your call to make, Leon. We can’t make it for you, and we’re not here to make you feel better about the decisions you make” Velma carries on, talking without the fear of speaking out of line, “if you’re not as confident in this decision as you say that you are, then turn around, tell Jaime you’ve had second-thoughts and apologise.” “I’m not having second thoughts, Velly” Leon responds, his declaration the only thing that he’s capable of saying before the woman’s follow-up immediately presents itself. “Then stop asking for our opinions, because they’re doing no good and wasting time” Velma demands, letting her hands hang at her sides as they slip out from her pockets, “the only reason any of this would be worth taking part in would be if it served a purpose to talking you out of naming Jaime vice president. If that’s not on the table, this is pointless.” “Do you have your reservations about this, Velly?” Leon inquires, less than a second passing before the woman’s unchanged visage parts its lips to respond to his question. “Yeah, I do” Velma answers honestly, not wasting a moment in answering the question whilst Sidney looks toward her without uttering a word, Jay’s head hanging as his eyes fall to the ground. Puckering her lips, Jaime keeps her face held forward as her eyes fall to the black tiles that line the floor, her thoughts being kept to herself before her critic apologises. “I’m sorry, Jaime. It’s nothing personal... but you’re not one of us yet” Velma remarks, watching the former chancellor’s eyes meet her own as she voices her qualms, “just because she was in charge of a camp somewhere else doesn’t mean that she’s seen what we have to keep this place running.” “You’re right” Leon answers, his voice not holding reservation like his friend’s does, but his assurance speaks to his understanding of such truth. “I know I am, Leon. I don’t question that she could- one day- understand all of this enough, but today is not that day” Velma remarks, shrugging her shoulders as her hands slip back into her coat pockets, “she’s still second in command now, she’ll have to get used to it and so will I. So may I please go now?” Bowing his head before extending his hand toward the door, Leon immediately grants the woman her freedom to depart, the door opening with a gust of cold wind sent into the suite as the obstinate woman ventures onto other duties as the heaven’s dark sky takes shape above. “All of this will sit better with her when she’s less surprised by the promotion” Jay comments, looking the way of his new superior with a reassuring comment, “she’s just very protective of this place.” “She’s right” Jaime confesses, not changing her relaxed and unbothered demeanour as she addresses the man, one arm resting against the kitchen counter she leans against. “I’m not as familiar with this place as the rest of you are, but I don’t have to be yet. Over time, I’ll learn” the chancellor concludes, taking a swig from her glass before nodding as she looks toward the suite’s exit, “but that’s my burden to bear and I’m not going anywhere... So I guess that means it’s time to get to it.” = Athens of America is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onwards = Hearing the taps of his footsteps echo through the concrete catacomb that surrounds the stairwell, Ken ascends to his office high within the capitol tower in jogging gear, gasping for breath as sweat stains the collar of his t-shirt and runs down the length of its back. Collecting his breath as he emerges from within the echo-heavy tomb with the push of the door, the president halts his hurried pace into a relaxed and brisk stroll whilst his hands press against his hips. “Which floor did you start at, Mr. Presi-” Betty questions aloud, hurriedly stepping out from behind her secretary’s desk with a smile before catching herself, “Oh, sorry! I’m still getting used to... you know.” Flashing her the lightest smile he can muster, Ken continues to venture through the hallway in search of his office, joined by the worker that easily matches his tired steps. “Which floor did you start at, Ken?” the woman corrects, watching the president point his index finger toward the ground multiple times without uttering a word. “All the way from the bottom this time? Wow” Betty remarks, surprised at the answer that she correctly assumes from the gesture, “it’s not very often that you start from the ground floor. You usually take the elevator to the twentieth floor and climb from there, right?” “The fifteenth floor” Ken responds in a hiss-like whisper, speaking through his parted breaths as he collects them, only able to speak in brief, three or four letter sentences. “Elevator was broken... Decided to climb...” the president murmurs, hanging his head as he squeezes his eyes shut, violently shaking his face through the air as he gathers himself, “...dumb decision.” Bowing her head and remaining hesitant to start conversation that the man cannot handle taking part in, Betty watches the man as his bare legs carry on through the hallway, venturing for his office covered by nothing more than a pair of shorts in spite of the frigid temperatures. “Tell me when you’re ready for me to give you a rundown” she comments as they enter his office, watching the man’s hand roll through the air as he wanders toward his desk, gesturing for her to get it over with. “Blake Dean is holding a rally tonight at the track centre across the street from the technical school on Tremont. Wallace Sparks is holding one at the institute on Ward” Betty explains, watching the man yank the sweat-soaked t-shirt off his body despite its best efforts of sticking to him. Shirtless and glistening beneath his office’s overhead lights, Ken tosses the shirt into a corner of his room before reaching into a tub of ice and retrieving a chilled bottle of water. “Across the neutral zone, President Grave is making an announcement to Athens, but he hasn’t disclosed what it is yet” Betty continues, watching the man rip the cap off his plastic bottle and down nearly half of the cold beverage within it. “Rumours are circling around that he’s naming someone new to be a vice president” she proceeds, seeing the confused squint in her superior’s eye as he pulls the bottle from his lips, refreshed and invigorated as he gasps for air, “people are pretty sure it’s that blonde woman he brought with him that first time.” “Mrs. Morris-Cutler?” Ken questions back, nodding at the sight of his secretary’s nod before looking toward the distant corner of the office, seemingly intrigued at the information he’s given, “that’s a little surprising, I guess.” Regaining his cool enough to start pulling in breaths, keeping them at bay for a few seconds, and then releasing them all over again, the president eventually makes for his desk and presses the palm of his hands against the edge of its surface. “Does anyone know why he’s putting her in that position?” Ken inquires, lifting an eyebrow at the sight of the woman’s shaking head, “of all people, I’d assume he would’ve promoted anyone of his little group of friends over there.” “All we’re getting is that he’s naming someone to be his vice president and that it’s almost certainly her” Betty reassures, watching the Free Boston figurehead nod approvingly before pulling his seat from the desk. “So he’s putting the woman that led a capitalist dictatorship that fought the old guard out west into the second-chair of a communist oligarchy that’s trying to avoid fighting the new guard here on the east...” Ken remarks, lowering his voice to the point where he speaks only beneath his breath, “...that’s not in line with his doctrine.” “I’m sorry, what was that Mr. Presi- Ken?” Betty corrects, unable to hear the man’s conclusion before watching his head lift toward her, his head shaking in refusal as the conversation is taken elsewhere. “Betty, can you send someone to run down to that track centre on Tremont and let them know that I want to hold an emergency assembly down there tonight instead?” Ken inquires, lowering his brows as he looks toward the woman, seeing her head immediately begin nodding. “Remind them that the President has the authority to demand immediate reservation of any location beyond disagreement if they give our guy a hard time” the president warns, watching the woman confidently march beyond his office and walk off to follow through on his orders. Still drenched in sweat, Ken watches Betty hurry off before letting his eyes fall to the workspace’s surface, his heart beating fast whilst he gathers his breaths, shaking his head as the nerves of his request begin kicking in. | “Just a second!” Velma proclaims from the other side of a glass door as she washes her hands, unable to see the figure that knocks at her suite’s entrance until after she reaches for a paper towel. Surprised by what she finds when she turns around, the woman quickly dries off her hands as she ventures across the tiny room, opening the door for the woman that remains patiently standing just beyond it. “Your home is a lot smaller than I would’ve expected it to be” Jaime confesses, lifting her sunglasses onto the top of her head now that the balcony above shields her from the cloudless, winter sun. “This place is still a ballpark no matter what we build inside of it. They were meant to watch a game from, drink a beer, and then leave until the next time” Velma responds, gesturing toward the side of the room that her visitor can see through the wall of glass that makes up her room’s entrance. “I could barely fit that bed in the corner. I just hope nobody starts a revolution and thinks to shatter that window while I’m sleeping” the facially-scarred survivor carries on, stepping aside to grant the former chancellor entry into her humble abode, “if I’m going to be executed, I’d like to do it knowing exactly who’s coming for me.” “That surprises me. I always figured there was a reason people dreamed of their ideal death being in their sleep from old age” Jaime responds, stepping into the woman’s home with two hands tucked into her pockets. “I’d like to make peace with death before it comes to me. If I was part of a revolutionary purge, I’d like to know what I did wrong to cause so much fuckin’ hatred” Velma responds, closing the door on the woman’s way in before standing opposite her, “can I help you with something?” “You can if that’s how you want to look at it” Jaime responds, continuing to venture further into the renovated suite without very much floor to cover, “first of all, you can explain to me why you live in a room that doesn’t seem much bigger than a phone booth.” Amused, Velma grins before strolling to the side of the room that her tiny kitchen sits at, granting the cold air entry as she pushes in the door sitting just beside it. “Patio access was among the biggest reasons” she admits, closing the entrance once more before twisting its lock, “I didn’t need much to feel accommodated, though. So I never really gave living somewhere bigger much consideration.” Nodding, Jaime leans against the railing that had been installed into the front of the room long before the ballpark became a survivor safe haven, letting out a long breath as the cold air from the woman’s patio door wafts over her. “So what did you really come here for, Jaime?” Velma questions aloud, retreating to the opposite side of the room from the former chancellor- a distance of no more than six feet- crossing her arms and leaning her back against the kitchen counter. “You know what I came here for” Jaime quickly answers with a grin, seeing the same exact visage plant itself upon the woman who shares her company. “I’ll answer to whatever you want, whenever you want, and be here when you need-” Velma explains, shaking her head with the same light-hearted expression that keeps from any tension filling the room. “I know you’ll suck it up and bear it, but that’s not what I’m talking about” Jaime interjects, preventing the woman from continuing to explain herself amidst the feeling that eggshells need to be safe from heavy-set feet. “I don’t know what you want from me, Jaime. I’ll grin, bear it, and hope that you do a great job” Velma explains, continuing to smile as best as she can whilst confessing that she’s unable to see what the vice president is trying to get at. “I want to know how you think this place should be run” the suite-owner’s superior comments, seeing a slight shift in the woman’s expression take shape into confusion. “I’ll be honest, I don’t think that I was named vice president because Leon just wanted someone he knew could take over if something happened to him. If that were the case, I’m sure he would’ve chosen you for this job a long time ago” Jaime explains, remaining casually leant against the woman’s bar counter with her back turned to the once-glorious ballpark, “I think he chose me because he knows that if something were to happen to him, Athens would need to change.” “I’m not sure that I understand what you mean” Velma quickly assures, shaking her head at a loss for words as the cross of her arms deepens, allowing the fuzzy, pink fabrics of her sweater to rub against each other as the sleeves run against each other. “Why is Leon in charge of Athens?” Jaime proceeds to inquire, changing the conversation with enough suddenness to provoke whiplash, “this place clearly wasn’t a commune before the Catalyst, so where did this place start?” “Why are you asking?” the suite’s tenant queries back, watching Jaime pucker her lips and lean her head forward, refusing to speak what her demeanour alone says. Rolling her eyes, Velma stiffens her shoulders for a moment before letting them fall, swaying her head from side to side as she thinks back to the nation’s earliest days. “People started running around like chickens with their heads cut off when people started dropping dead” the woman confesses, “the ballpark opened and people started funnelling in.” “Keep going” Jaime responds, walking toward the woman’s single-person mattress in the corner of the room before having herself a seat upon it, leaning against her legs as she watches the suite’s resident think back. “We saw signs on the highways and on those virtual billboards telling us not to drink the water, so we did as they said. Slowly, people stopped dropping dead and things got quiet” Velma explains, leaving her statement there for the vice president to read into. “But people eventually needed to figure out how to stay hydrated” Jaime comments, following the logical next step of such dire straits whilst the woman opposite her begins to nod. “Leon walked out to the middle of the field with an empty bucket. First, he brought out a few pieces of wood he’d gotten from a hardware store a few blocks down the road. Then some cinder blocks, and then a barbecue rack” Velma explains, looking her new superior in the eyes, “then he filled the bucket with tap water and started boiling it.” “And he sacrificed his safety to assure everyone that they’d be alright” Jaime concludes, getting the gist of the recollection without it needing to be stated, the nod that she receives from Velma doing all that’s needed to align their minds with each other. “How did you avoid the acid storm on that first night?” the once-chancellor asks aloud, looking for insight she still hadn’t been clued into. “Some people felt the first few droplets and started complaining that they hurt. Then others felt them and starting running to the concourse” the Athens confidant answers, “I’d already been in there, but the second people started swarming like a mob, I decided to head over to the bathroom and stay there to avoid getting crushed.” Nodding, Jaime lets her eyes fall as she sits with the information, pressing her bottom lip between both teeth as she leans back upon the mattress. “Are you asking because you’re genuinely curious or because there’s a point you’re trying to make?” Velma questions aloud, not interested in wasting her time retreating down memory lane with absolutely nothing to gain from it. “Athens isn’t successful because people chose to live in a communist community, it’s successful because the people chose to be led by Leon” Jaime concludes, looking back from the ground as she stares at Velma, who remains silent as the vice president speaks. “If he hadn’t risked losing his life in front of everyone, they would’ve stayed as hopeless as they’d been between the Catalyst and him walking onto the pitch” she reiterates, a remark that doesn’t cause much change in the posture of the suite’s tenant. “They tolerate living in a commune because they follow Leon’s lead. They have this trust in him rooted inside of them” the Angelino native explains, earning very little push back from her new subordinate, “that doesn't necessarily mean it will stay that way.” “What are you getting at?” Velma questions back, not wasting much time in presenting her request for clarification, and not needing to spend long before receiving just that. “People that show up here and go off to Free Boston do it because most people would want to live in a world where they can own their own stuff and make their own rules” Jaime carries on, climbing off the bed and approaching the woman that stands before her. “I’m sure some people would prefer a commune society over something more capitalist, but most people wouldn’t. And if it weren’t for Leon specifically being in charge of Athens, fewer people would want to be here than there are now” Jaime explains, “the only ones that actually like the style of life that we live here are either among those few people who like it, or those who are scarred from the alternative that they saw dealing with Free Boston’s anarchist nightmare.” “I’ll ask again... What are you getting-?” Velma reiterates, unable to finish her thought before the woman that now stands within inches of her interrupts. “If Leon were to die tomorrow and I were to succeed him, it’d be a lot easier to imagine people getting fed up with having to order their stuff a week in advance, living with roommates, and dealing with order limitations whenever we’re low on stock after the fact” Jaime explains, shaking her head with a grin, “I don’t have the pull with these people like he does.” “Nobody has their trust the way that Leon does... Not even me” Velma corrects, only further proving the point that her new superior had been trying to make. “Which I’m sure is exactly why Leon chose me to succeed him instead of you” Jaime responds, holding more enthusiasm in her words than she had throughout the entire conversation before hand, “Athens existing as a communal nation likely wouldn’t be possible for much longer after the guy that people trust to lead buys the farm. It would need to change.” “While I wouldn’t want to be the person tasked with succeeding Leon, I’ll play along with the case that you’re trying to make when I ask you this...” Velma restates, pressing her hands together with the tips of each finger directing themselves toward the vice president, “if Leon figured Athens would need to change, why wouldn’t he have appointed me to succeed him years ago like you suggest?” “Because I’m pretty sure Leon thinks Athens would need to start operating a lot more like the Angelino Republic if it were to continue to exist after he’s gone” Jaime answers, watching the resident’s head pull back slightly at the explanation, “maybe he didn’t realise that until after we were introduced, but now that he knows that... What better person to lead that New Athens than the person who led the republic he wanted it to be modelled after?” “So what is all of this about then?” Velma questions back, seeing the point that the vice president has come to make before looking to decipher what its importance is. “Other than confirming the sneaking suspicion that I had before walking into your little loft up here, you mean?” Jaime queries, watching the silent nod of approval she receives give her the greenlight to answer, “if there’s a chance I end up being number one someday, I’ll need a new number two. I might as well find out who my number three is now so I can make that a lot easier.” “You want me to be your vice president if you ascend to the throne?” Velma asks with a deep look of confusion on her face, assuming she hadn’t understood the woman’s point at all. “If that’s how you choose to take it, fine. But what I’m looking for is to figure out who I can trust more than anyone else around here” Jaime replies, stepping back to the countertop opposite the resident’s kitchen whilst speaking. “And how do you know that you can trust me?” Velma wonders aloud, watching the woman that retreats from her turn back with the shake of her head and a shrug. “I don’t. That’s why I’m interested in working more with you” Jaime answers, already laying out the groundwork for what’s in store with her new position, “I was given choices between two people to trust back in the republic, and I chose the wrong one until I realised who I should’ve been listening to all along was.” Staying quiet, Velma remains reserved across the room whilst Athens’ new second in command stares back at her, looking her in the eyes whilst she recollects. “Do you remember the first morning that I got here? Do you remember grilling me in Leon’s suite when I told you about that trip I sent some of my people on to Colorado?” Jaime queries, receiving only a nod in return, “I didn’t just send some people, I sent two of my closest friends. A husband and a wife named Chevy and Kayla.” Velma remains unchanged in her demeanour as the woman continues talking, assuming that something of value is to come from the discourse. “Anytime I needed people I could count on, they were the first people that I looked to” Jaime explains, tucking one hand into her pocket whilst the other moves through the air with her words, “but there was another pair of people... a brother and sister named Julia and Chris that I shouldn’t have trusted.” “The sister that took over your place, and then you took it back and killed her... The thing we caught on the drone. Okay?” Velma recalls, now taking her turn to receive little more than a nod. “The point is that I had a choice between trusting Chevy and Julia and I chose the wrong one” Jaime concludes, keeping her distance from the obstinate soul across the room, “I know you’ll do what I need you to if I ask. But my point in all of this is that I need a new Chevy.” Unmoved and unfamiliar with the names she can guess the respective roles of, Velma lets her head tilt toward her left shoulder, though the posture doesn’t take long to be noticed by her guest. “I don’t need you to tell me anything you’re not ready to right now. Other than figuring out whether or not the theory I had about Leon offering me this job was right, I wanted to make how I feel about you clear” Jaime remarks as she ventures toward the front door, “sleep on it and give it some thought. I know you’re not going anywhere, and for my sake... I hope Leon isn’t either.” Smirking, Velma looks toward the ground whilst Jaime steps through the door, bowing her head on the way out before walking away, heading off to fry bigger fish as the Athens loyalist remains paused within deep thought in her modest, oversized broom closet of a residence. Giving one brief glance toward the front door as she watches the vice president’s figure wander off beyond view, the propositioned figure attempts to free her mind from the burden of their conversation and return to her original duties, tending to her tiny flat just as any responsible tenant would. == Athens of America == “I’m not asking for a lot, I’m just asking for three more candles!” an old woman pleads, her hands covered in mittens and head capped off with a knitted toque. “You have so many of them, can’t you just spare three?” she politely asks, hopeful in her stare as she finds continued reluctance in the eyes of the labourer with marching orders to follow.
“Until we get a new batch in, I’m afraid that’s not possible” Jay confesses, watching the woman’s wrinkled lips press together disappointedly as he again pats the lone package of twenty tealight candles. “We should have a refurbished supply in two weeks. Until then, I can’t break one of Leon’s limits” the younger man responds, watching Ruby return from the room behind her counter with a small handful of other small home goods requested by the elderly woman. “Here you are, Mrs. Lamb” the clerk proclaims to the frail soul, gently placing the items within the carriage of the woman’s trolley, its handle and wheels used to stabilise the older woman just as much as it’s used to carry her items. “Hold on, Mrs. Lamb” a soft-spoken gentleman remarks, gently guiding the woman off to the side of the room as she steps away, intending to leave and free the line for him to next occupy, his place having been taken within it just behind her own. “You had a pretty modest order sheet for this week, Neal” Ruby comments, watching the woman briefly search through a list atop her clipboard before traipsing to the back whilst Jay ventures around the back of the counter. “I don’t really have much to look after other than myself” the man confesses, his cheeks flushed with a rosy, red colour that gradually diminishes the longer he stands in line, waiting within the building’s main foyer whilst the older woman remains off to the side. “Here are your candles, your herbal cigarettes, your black honey tea, your-” Jay remarks, carrying a small handful of items to the countertop before placing them down in front of the man who’d ordered them, only to have no chance at finishing his thought. Without hesitation, Neal takes the package of tealight candles and snaps open the plastic container as gracefully as it will allow, snatching a trio of tapers from within and placing them gently into the old lady’s pocket. “You get home safely now, alright Mrs. Lamb?” the selfless civilian remarks, earning the appreciation of the older woman whilst the man still standing at the counter with the citizen’s goods watches on with a smile. Allowing the elder woman to continue onward with a few kind words exchanged, Neal returns to the kiosk and tucks his goods into the bag draped over his shoulder. “That was kind of you” Jay remarks, watching the civilian shrug as he tosses the goods into the knapsack whilst Ruby emerges from beyond the front desk. “If everyone gets what they deserve in life, then I’ll live a long life well after she’s done living hers” Neal responds, graciously bowing his head toward the returning labourer as she hands him a stick of deodorant and a bottle of powder shampoo, “it’s a small price to pay for good karma.” With a grin, Jay nods his head toward the man as he ventures out from within the line, having collected what he’d come to and now finding himself off to the office further down the road. Satisfied and with a smile, the man amongst Leon’s closest confidants offers a passive smile to the young adult woman that approaches the desktop, her order being searched for by the labourers at hand whilst the kind act remains resonant within the assistant’s mind. = Athens of America is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onwards = “Mr. President?” a blonde woman inquires, rounding the glass wall separating the president’s office from the hallway beyond. Lifting his head up without a word, Ken looks at the woman as she stands within his doorway, everything about her attire seeming normal and unassuming other than the slight tear in the cuff of her silk, light blue blouse. “You have a visitor” the woman remarks, watching the man’s head nod from its brief pause before attempting to return to her desk, only for her name to be called from within the room she travels in the opposite direction of. “Betty!?” Ken queries aloud, watching the woman spin around and return to his doorway, looking at him with lifted eyebrows, “what happened to your shirt?” Instinctively looking toward her torn cuff, the woman presents a nervous smile very briefly before letting it subside as her fingers run down its smooth fabrics. “I’m so sorry, Mr. President. I’ll wear something without a rip in it tomorr-” Betty attempts to reply, only to watch the leader’s head shake in refusal as he interrupts her near the end. “I don’t care what you wear, I just want to know how it was ripped” Ken assures, watching the woman’s eyes fall back toward the end of her sleeve as she uncomfortably bends a knee, pressing the tip of her heel into the carpeted floor. “A man grabbed me by the arm as I was leaving for work last week” Betty confesses with a smile, trying not to appear depressing in spite of it being within her recollection’s nature, “he was wearing a pointy ring and it nicked my sleeve.” With a slight squint, Ken remains leant in his seat just a small amount before gradually reclining in his chair, watching the woman’s smile carry back toward him. “Is that all, Mr. President?” Betty wonders back, slowly easing the bend in her knee so she can stand upright once again, the smile on her face widening just slightly as the end of the discourse appears to come in sight. “No, not yet” Ken responds, lifting one hand from off his lip in order to rest it atop his desk, watching the woman’s grin begin to dip back to what it had been a second prior. “What did he want from you?” the president inquires, watching the feigned demeanour of jovial cheer fall the rest of the way from the subordinate’s face as it lowers toward the ground just a bit, descending with the rest of her mood. Pulling her hand up to swipe shorter strands of hair from her face, Betty jostles her head as she lets a breath leave through her nose, her shoulders falling as she decides not to mince her words or waste anymore of the man’s time. “Sex” she answers honestly, again putting on a smile, but this time in order to lighten the mood rather than fool her boss, the expression she wears soon fills with genuine reassurance, “but I always carry a bottle of pepper spray on me, so nothing happened!” Though pleased to hear that everything turned out alright, Ken’s expression fails to fill with anything more than distress, his eyes taking toward the desktop before he’s kept from lulling himself into a darker train of thought any further. “Will that be all, Mr. President?” Betty inquires, unsure of whether or not she’s needed further, but being hesitant to leave the president’s guest waiting for too much longer. “Uhh... yes. Just one more thing” Ken responds, watching the woman again lean her knee out as if she were worried about where the next line of conversation will take them. “I know I told you to refer to me as Mr. President when I first hired you...” the Free Boston founder remarks, shaking his head with a disparaging expression plastered upon his face like a missing person’s poster upon a telephone pole, “...just call me Ken from now on.” Nodding, Betty leaves without replying through her words, posture fixing itself as she rounds the corner and ventures toward the man’s visitors, her figure followed by the president’s sorrowful eyes along its journey. Pressing his eyelids shut, Ken tilts his head back and lets out a groan as he opens his eyes, visibly unamused with the conversation that he’d taken part in. | “Is today the day?” Jaime inquires, watching the man who’d knocked at her door alone enter at her approval. “I’m afraid today is not the day you get to make a new friend either. I’m sorry” Leon responds, draping his jacket over the arm that he presses against his chest, watching the woman shrug without much of a change in her unconcerned attitude. “Well, I haven’t talked to you in a few days. Velma told me not to concern myself with it and just let her know if I needed food restocked or something” Jaime responds, turning to face the window that overlooks their neighbours to the south, seeing lights appear within the windows of buildings as the sun begins to set. “I’ve been putting together crews to go out wherever they can to restock our supplies” Leon confesses, continuing to slowly venture further into the room as he places his jacket delicately upon the curved countertop. “The more that time flies, the further out they have to go if they’re going to find anything that hadn’t already been scavenged” he comments, an issue that the once-chancellor shrugs at. “You do what you can with what you’ve got” Jaime responds, continuing to enjoy the view that is comparable in any way other than the ones that count to the ones she’d received from her hillside mansion in the angel city. “Well, what did you do when you had your republic?” Leon inquires, his shoes gradually pressing against the carpet floors before they come to a stop in the centre of the room, his figure catching the eye of the hotel’s guest as she turns around with an eyebrow raised. “Are you asking because you’re interested or you’re looking for advice?” Jaime inquires, watching the president’s head drop with a smile that he fails to hide, amusing the chancellor of a republic she holds dear to her heart even in death. “I’m not perfect, Jaime” Leon confesses, lifting his head up just in time to watch the woman chuckle and scoff. “Please, I could tell you that” the chancellor jokes, prompting the mixture of rolled eyes and laughter to surround the room like a fog. “I don’t always know what the best choice to make is, so it’s nice sometimes to have someone to go to and run the options by” Leon explains, seeing an intrigued look take shape in the woman’s face, “you’ve been in my shoes, and if I was making the wrong call, I’d trust you to let me know before I put it into action.” “I don’t know if I want that job, what’s the pay like?” Jaime quips back with a smirk, keeping the mood light within the room as she strolls over to her chair, standing at it whilst waiting for the man’s rebuttal. “Well, I do find you to be more valuable doing something other than the common jobs that everyone else does. You’ve got a unique familiarity with all of this to set yourself apart from them” Leon answers honestly, continuing to wear the effects of an unbearing scene. “I know you’ve been dreading having to move into a flat with someone else, so how about I put it to you like this...” Leon remarks, tucking a hand into his pocket as he watches the woman descend into her seat, “...be on call whenever there’s something that I need to do and I’ll start referring to you as my vice president. With that, I’ll let you stay in this hotel room you’ve become so accommodated with for as long as you’d like. Roommate free, of course.” “Before I accept, I do want to point out that you’ve only known me for a little over a week at this point. Maybe ten days?” Jaime queries, wanting to make sure the man’s bases are covered, “I’d accept if you’re not currently drunk or stoned, but are you sure you want to-” Holding up his hand and gently waving it to the side, the president gestures for the woman not to mind finishing her question as he silently readies himself to answer it. “You might just be the only person on this continent and this side of the neutral zone that knows what it’s like to be me” Leon remarks, watching the woman’s hesitant posture remain present as she sits near the edge of her seat, reluctant to fall back into its cushioned embrace any further. “You’ve proven you can connect with people, and you volunteered to risk your life running as a chaos candidate for the benefit of this place” the president concedes, “if this has all been an act, I’ll be honest with you right now... You’ve fooled me.” “So you get shot in the head, you drop dead, and I become the president of your community? That’s the job you’re offering me?” Jaime clarifies, sliding into her seat just a slight amount further than she had, an eyebrow still raised, “you understand that and still want me to be your vice president?” “Velly doesn’t tend to like people but thinks well enough of you, Jay and Sid both have good things to say about you, even Ken Spence was impressed by you... We almost never see eye-to-eye on things” Leon remarks, running down the example she’s set in such a short amount of time, “besides, I have old women stopping me in the street as I’m between responsibilities asking about the blonde girl that calmed everyone down and made her feel better.” Obviously flattered, Jaime presses her back against the rest of the chair as her right arm rests against its side, the other one cradling a glass of nearly-finished bourbon on her lap. “If I say yes, I want you to make sure that you know something incredibly important before you declare anything you might regret” the chancellor confesses, leaving no stone unturned as the president tucks his hands into his pockets, waiting for the woman to try her latest attempt at dissuading him. “I’ve never harmed someone that doesn’t do me wrong, but I won’t mince words... I’ve killed people. And they haven’t just been off of giving someone orders to an execution... my physical hand has done the executioning” Jaime remarks, shaking her head in refusal at any possible opportunity, “I don’t order people to do what I wouldn’t stomach doing myself. I’ve had good reasons to kill bad people, but I have still killed people.” “Do you expect me to come away from this thinking that you’re a murderer?” Leon queries, not shaken much by the revelation that the woman presents to him, “Jay and Sid have what you did to that woman in Los Angeles on film. If I was going to imprison you for what you did over there, you wouldn’t be in a cosy hotel room right now.” “I just don’t want to ever leave you thinking that I’m not the person I say that I am” Jaime confesses, straight-faced and stern in her delivery. “If I’m going to be the highest-ranking official in your community, then I don’t want you ever thinking that you don’t know who you’re in business with” the chancellor reassures, seeing a lack of change in the president’s expression, “when the going gets tough and things start falling out of order... I choose to rule with an iron fist.” Continuing to stand where he had when he’d made the offer with a similarly unbothered expression to the one he’d made it with, Leon nods once to himself before stepping forward, extending his hand to the still-seated woman as she stares at it. “Congratulations, Ms. Vice President” he remarks, repeating his proposition without forming it as a question, but rather an offer that is there for the woman to take if she so chooses. Letting her lips return to each other as her eyes furrow with both relief and surprise at the acceptance of her past, Jaime lifts the glass to her lips and downs the rest of her drink before climbing out of her seat. With her free hand, the Angelino chancellor trades in her title of ‘civilian’ in favour of being Leon’s right hand woman, shaking his hand with a defined responsibility in the centre of the room that now becomes her official residence in her new home nation. | “Has anyone else noticed that?” a man with freshly-cut, grey hair remarks, standing at a podium with a microphone that his lips rest just inches away from the filter of. “You’re not living in a country, you’re living in a territory where you’re voting for what kind of rules you want” the candidate proclaims, speaking to an audience that’s captivated and unwilling to interrupt him, not growing beyond their means in volume as the older-appearing gentleman directs his concerns to them. “We have no connection with the outside world. We merely tolerate Athens and the bogus treaty that we signed with them. We signed a deal that gave them protection from us. And who can blame them?” the presidential hopeful inquires, seeing eyes focus upon him within the slots of heads that nod in agreement with his proclamations. “I’m asking you to view voting for Wallace Sparks the same as being a vote in the favour of making good on the promise that convinced you all to join us here” Wallace explains, his hands pressing against the sides of the wooden platform he remains covered by. “You were told that you’d be given a fair shot to make a living and earn what you had in life whilst everyone started from square one... Everyone” he recalls, shaking his head as he looks at the crowd, “that wasn’t the case, was it?” Shaking their heads, the collected and respectful audience hears the comments of the man whose face is pressed into the centre of a campaign poster bearing his name, not a tagline to be seen anywhere upon the red and blue backdrop. “I come to you from the steps of this museum tonight in order to remind you of that promise you were given and who failed to give it to you” Wallace explains, his voice dropping an octave or two in order to appear more in line with the values of those who gather before him. “There is a way to go about getting you that, and I’ll be upfront with you tonight. The way to do that is through disregarding that treaty Mr. Spence signed and advancing beyond I-90” the candidate proclaims to wide applause, only a select few cheers coming from the core of those who stand before him, their claps showing the man they swing their support behind an appreciation they believe him to appreciate. “Mr. Spence doesn’t seem to be interested in running much of a campaign since he won earlier this year, so it does seem like you’ll have two options within due time” Wallace comments, squinting as he looks out at the sea of masses, speaking with a disregard for the opponent he voluntarily brings to the audience’s attention. “Sure, they might be fun. But if you’ve ever gone to one of Blake Dean’s rallies, you’d know it was all just a method of riling up people to despise the government that’s been put in place before presenting him like the solution” Wallace remarks, laughing with a grin at such an idea he views as preposterous, “the man doesn’t even look like he’s beyond one of the common, struggling people he talks about, and yet he has absolutely no idea what they’re going through.” Shaking his head, Wallace looks out at an audience that begins politely applauding through his momentary lapse in speech, earning a warm and appreciative expression from the man on stage. For another half an hour, the presidential hopeful rallies his supporters like people ready to make the march and vote for their best interests before climbing down from the steps and walking off to the museum’s side, looking to exit the area around the populace with his security team in tow. “Excellent speech, Mr. Sparks” an impressed tone remarks from a short distance ahead, the man who provides such a proclamation of reassurance having pre-planned for the candidate’s exit strategy. “There’s a part of me that wishes you didn’t feel the need to bring me up every other sentence, but I do appreciate the free publicity” Blake Dean comments, stepping forward with open hands held toward the air, presenting himself as anything other than a threat. “You’re one of the root issues with this election cycle, Mr. Dean” Wallace responds, watching a grin take shape upon the confident presidential hopeful, unbothered by the apparent attempt at an insult, “you’ve got your supporters thinking this is a party and refusing to see reason.” Stepping forward, Blake lets his hands fall to each side, careful not to slip them into his pockets out of a desire to be seen as the harmless visitor that he intends to be viewed as. “I’m doing my job of convincing the people to go out and vote for me, Mr. Sparks. All that you’re doing is convincing them to applaud you before going home and curling up with a book” Blake explains, ending his advancement a few feet ahead of his opponent, “you’re not inspiring them to go out and create change... you’re putting them to sleep.” “And the way that you speak about them leads me to believe that you’re putting them in the grave” Wallace retorts, stepping forward without concern over his opponent, getting in the man’s face just as the younger opponent had begun the process of doing with him. “Athens is a weak community that gets by with their selflessness and sharing. The man who leads them thinks less with his brain and more with his heart” Blake quips, “as long as that’s their leadership, I don’t see them ever doing what it would take to mount a decent counter-offensive.” “Then you clearly haven’t been paying much attention, junior” Wallace replies with a smile, seeing a slight squint carry itself out amongst the younger foe’s face, a look of confusion gradually making itself more clear. “From what I’m hearing through the grapevine, Comrade Leon across the water is naming a new number two” the older candidate explains, revealing information that the man opposite him had yet to be privy to, “and she doesn’t seem to be as interested in thinking emotionally, as ironic as that is.” “I know you’re lying” Blake responds, watching his opponent’s head pull back and shake vehemently, the rest of the man’s body remaining exactly where the feet to it had decided to mark the ground. “I can promise you that I’m not. The people that I know have never gotten the wrong information to me” Wallace assures, seeing a dissatisfied and slightly angry expression take shape upon his opponent whilst he begins to smile, lowering his voice to a whisper, “I guess my grapevines stretch longer than yours, junior” With nothing left to add, Wallace steps around his political foe and continues his journey away from the sidewalk, carrying on exactly as planned with his security in tow. Remaining where he was left standing, Blake stares forward with a distant scowl, eyes rolling toward the crowd whose polite retreat from each other disgusts him almost as much as his own group’s failure appears to disgust him. “All I want to know is why I didn’t know this!” Blake proclaims, slamming his fist against the table of a renovated office converted into a luxury penthouse, storming back toward a group of his men nearly an hour after being embarrassed by the man he still leads in the polls. To nothing but silence, the four men that stand before him bow their heads with shame as their hands sit by their lap. “Because-” a man to the right of the row’s centre murmurs beneath his breath, second-guessing his choice in choosing to speak before falling silent, but failing to keep his attempt from the ears of his boss. Pulling a pistol from the waistband of his pants, the irate presidential hopeful takes aim at the soldier's throat and gently lets his finger sit upon the trigger, threatening to squeeze at the slightest hint of something that his ears don’t wish to catch. “Speak” Blake calmly whispers, steadying his hand in spite of the anger that courses through his muscles as the private militia guard does exactly as told. “Because no one could get into the neutral zone for a meeting with their family, sir” the hispanic, mid-20’s soldier responds, squeezing his eyelids shut in preparation for the gunman’s following act, hearing nothing but silence fill the air in the seconds that follow his answer. Letting out a brief hum, Blake turns the gun toward the man on the young soldier’s right, putting a bullet through the serviceman’s skull before doing the same with the pair of militants who’d stood beside the answering employee’s left. Wincing in terror before dropping to the ground in pain with both hands covering his ears, the lone survivor of the candidate’s wrath kneels as ringing runs through his head, shielding himself from the sounds of war that deafen him. “Get this asshole to the infirmary, get someone in here to dispose of the bodies, and get someone in the neutral zone to confirm what Sparks said” Blake commands, barking his orders to the suited guard standing at the door, watching the well-built gentleman take the soldier by the arm and drag him out of the room. Tossing the firearm onto the vintage chesterfield near the centre of the room, the enraged candidate undoes the links of his dress shirt’s cuffs before wandering deeper into his residence to cool off. | “Congratulations” Jay remarks, watching the newest arrival to his homeland step past without noticing him, his occupation of the stairs just beside the former row of seats having been looked past by the chancellor. “I see word really does travel fast around here like they say” Jaime concedes with a grin, watching the man who’d offered her a reassuring quip smile as he nods, “are you on board with it?” “Listen... Leon makes the calls” Jay answers with his hands raised, continuing to sit as the woman remains paused in her progression toward the president’s residence, making it clear where his place is. “Velly, Sid and I love this place. We chose to stay here after all, and it wasn’t just because we’re friends or had an ‘in’ with the boss” he furthers, watching as Jaime approaches, leaning on the wall at the bottom of the steps he sits halfway up. “We just want what’s best for it, and we can guide Leon to believing that he’ll get just that if he works in a certain way, but it’s still his call at the end of it all” the unbothered resident concludes, “we just have to hope he makes the right one.” “I’ll reiterate myself then, because I wasn’t really asking if I had your blessings. I already accepted the job and knew no one was going to out-vote Leon...” Jaime explains, clarifying what she meant through the question, “what I was really asking was how you all feel about it.” With a grin, Jay looks away from the woman whilst his hands couple at his lap, both eyes taking toward the buildings that line the former ballpark and the candlelights that present themselves through their windows. “I feel a lot better that you’re taking the time to ask because you care, that’s for sure” Jay responds, offering pleasantries to the woman that takes appreciation in his remark, aware that his comments don’t just end there. “None of us are sounding the alarm, but I don’t think any of us are really going to know how we feel about this until we’ve seen it in action” the man confesses, earning an understanding nod from the chancellor-turned-vice president. “We’ll look out for you and tell you what we think you need to hear when you need to hear it. We’ll just hope you’ll do the same for us” Jay concludes, leaving the woman with all the assurance she needs to not feel the need to walk around on eggshells. “I don’t take positions of leadership to be titles. I look at them as responsibilities” Jaime responds, continuing to lean against the wall with the man she still knows rather little about in the grand scheme of things, “my responsibilities are to you now. All of you.” With a smile, Jay shrugs as his hands pull apart to pat his legs, standing up from the concrete stairs before descending toward the woman he must venture past in order to carry on with his night. “Welcome home then, V.P” he greets, walking in the opposite direction of the woman with a smile that she soon shares, watching him wander off with the warm feeling of acceptance before his departure convinces her to do the same, following through on her journey toward the home of the man she now answers to whilst the day draws to a close. == Athens of America == With one leg crossed over the other, Jaime stares through the window that overlooks the nation neighbouring her own temporary residence, a mug with steam rising beyond its lid held within both hands as she sits back in a seat. Dressed in her sleepwear with the addition of a pair of baggy sweatpants, the woman’s relaxed expression lets a smile take shape upon it as a pair of taps against her hotel room’s door beckon for an answer that they don’t receive, the souls they belong to entering at their own discretion anyway.
“Seriously, would waiting for someone to answer before you just open the door really kill you?” the chancellor inquires, looking over her shoulder to find two people entering her room, both figures expected well in advance. “It wouldn’t kill us, but we’d prefer not to waste our time waiting for one” Velma responds, following the one man with a superior title to her own into the new arrival’s room, closing the door quietly on their way inside. “The next time I come to retrieve you, I’ll wait for you to allow me inside. Alright?” Leon politely responds, watching the woman glide the chair around whilst wearing her right eyebrow high. “The next time you come to retrieve me? What am I, a ballpoint pen?” Jaime retorts, letting out a breathy laugh as she climbs out of the chair, still carrying the mug that she lifts to her lips. “Look at that, she does drink something other than bourbon” Velma quips aloud, coming to a stop at the point in which the hallway that leads to the front door meets the kitchen, amusing those in her presence. “Not only do I drink something other than bourbon, but it’s still not your shitty, pretend coffee!” Jaime rebuttals, finishing the job that the dependable general began in bringing the amusement to the point of laughter. “Like it or hate it, it’s still the best you’ll likely ever get from now on” Leon shrugs sarcastically, watching the nation’s visitor lift her mug with an equally caustic grin. “No thanks, I’ll stick to my tea in the morning, and my big girl drink for the rest of the day” Jaime responds, lifting the mug to her lips once more before loudly sipping her beverage, retreating further into the room where her blow up mattress remains. “Are you making yourself at home?” Velma inquires, jutting her chin toward the casually thrown-aside blanket that normally covers the chancellor’s body throughout the cold nights. “That depends on whether or not the two of you are planning on telling me that I have to start living with roommates now” Jaime responds, placing a hand on her hip as she turns her jovial grin back toward the woman who’d asked the question. “It won’t” Velma answers with simplicity, watching the smug smirk that the chancellor returns precede her reply. “Then I’m feeling cosy and welcomed” Jaime concludes, again lifting the mug to her lips for a loud and shameless sip, prompting the president’s confidant to roll her eyes, shake her head, and walk toward the liquor rack with a smile. “Speaking of living with roommates or not, that might be something we should start discussing” Leon remarks, turning the conversation toward the point he’d entered the room with the intent of starting, doing so of his own accord whilst the woman who’d travelled here alongside him fixes herself a tea. “What would cause us to start discussing that and how can I avoid it?” Jaime questions back without hiding her disinterest in the proposition, crossing one arm into the one that wields her hot beverage. “Well, you’re not technically a resident in Athens yet. All of the stuff we need to approve of you is filled, but we haven’t heard your side yet” Leon responds, leaving the information at that whilst the woman opposite him feeds on it. “Well, I don’t have much of a home anymore, do I?” Jaime questions back, looking toward the ground as she slowly steps forward, gradually cutting the distance between herself and the man down whilst Velma pours the kettle’s hot water into a mug of her own. “Not from what I can gather about your republic, no” Leon answers, tilting his head to the side with a brief puckering of his lips, “but that doesn’t necessarily mean that Athens is your only choice.” Lifting her chin with a slight squint in her eyes, Jaime continues stepping forward without replying, allowing the distance to continue closing past whilst the air goes quiet. “You can still take residency in Free Boston if you want. You could probably travel across the border and see if there’s anywhere in Canada that’s still functioning... same deal with Mexico, I suppose” Velma remarks, leaning against the same spot of the counter that she had the night prior, “you can wander out there and maybe find a house in some abandoned suburb. You can set up a farm and live like you’re the last woman on earth.” “What Velly’s getting at is that you have options. Athens is one of them, but it’s not the only one” Leon clarifies, watching the woman gradually divert course away from him, continuing to step in his direction whilst her body takes aim off to his side. “Gosh, you make it sound like you don’t even want me here” Jaime jokes, again sipping from her drink whilst amusing Velma. “We just want to make sure you know that all of your bases are covered” Leon replies, turning to face the woman as she slowly steps past him, continuing on the journey that appears more like auto-pilot than anything else, “besides, after the life that you lived in Los Angeles, no one-” “Oh, don’t stand there and start a follow-up like that” Jaime interrupts, finally breaking her gradual stride by spinning around to face the president once more, continuing to smile as her head leans to one side, “let me guess, no one knows whether or not I’d want a taste of leadership here the way I did back in the republic?” “It’s a mad world with greedy people and we just met you a few days ago... You do not reserve the right to blame us for having our reservations or curiosities” Leon calmly responds, offering his defence as neutrally and reassuringly as possible. “Of course not... Especially not after last night” Jaime responds, stepping back before resting against the opposite side of the wrap-around countertop to Velma’s left hip, “please tell me these public meetings never go that poorly.” “They’re not supposed to be common and you got us out of a tough pickle” Velma interjects, prompting the chancellor to look over her shoulder with a lifted brow, “we appreciate it, but it also gives us a reason to clear up some things in hopes of avoiding misunderstandings.” “I don’t want to be in charge of your little communism classroom, Dr. Red Sock” Jaime assures with a grin, turning her focus back toward the president as she replies, “I like this place and am more than willing to pretend to be leader when you need me to, but this place is far too small for my liking.” “Are you sure you don’t want to go join up with Free Boston, then?” Velma jokes, amusing herself and the new arrival whilst Leon clenches his teeth, bowing his chin out of more concern than humour. “And do what? Run against Mr. Douchebag Mophead with the scowl that looks like he just got told off for pissing in a mop bucket?” Jaime retorts, scoffing at the idea whilst lifting the mug to her lips, “please, I’d have the election won by lunch and a deal for Athens to absorb the place done by dinner.” “It sounds like we can make their dreams of a chaos candidate come true right now, Leon!” Velma proclaims with a chirk, playfully swatting the chancellor on the shoulder whilst leaning against the countertop that Jaime’s back presses into. “With a tagline like his, I’m surprised he’s not already the chaos candidate around there” the blonde hotel room inhibitor quips back, prompting the confidant behind her to shake her head with hilarity. “No, there’s this ‘chaos candidate theory’ they have in Free Boston where candidates that are behind in the polls make the claim that the front runners are just people we sent over there to try and trick people into voting for them” Leon responds, shaking his head with a grin. “The people who are really bad at campaigning but don’t realise it until they’re already made a fool out of themselves look for any excuse they can get” Velma reiterates, “it’s like watching murderers squirm when they’re caught with blood on their hands.” “I’m assuming the idea is that you’d send them over to win and then just sign Free Boston back into Athens?” Jaime queries, watching Leon shrug whilst the woman behind her nods approvingly. “I’m sure there are other things they assume of us, but it’s all just pointless blaming” Velma responds, watching Athens’ president take the seat that the hotel occupant had just recently left. “Why haven’t you done it then?” Jaime questions aloud, looking over her shoulder toward the woman that partakes in most of the conversation, only for her shrug and the sway of her chin toward the president to suggest she’s not the right person to ask about it. “Because we went through the process of signing the treaty with them to make sure we could both live separately and do as we please” Leon responds, letting out a sigh as he touches down upon the chair, “it’s our post-societal equivalent of a peace agreement.” “You do realise how those processes ended, right?” Jaime inquires, watching the scrunching of the president’s face take shape as he nods uncomfortably. “I don’t need a history lesson” Leon responds, letting his muscles relax as his mind takes toward more promising thoughts, “but I signed the treaty and now we have to abide by it for the sake of co-existing.” “If you signed the treaty and can’t put people over in Free Boston for the purpose of beating their candidates, why just blindly claim that you did if you’re one of the losers over there?” Jaime questions back, watching another look of reservation take shape upon the president’s visage. “Well, that’s sort of the thing...” Velma responds, again prompting the chancellor to look over her shoulder, “...we can, we just choose not to.” Confused, Jaime’s face takes its turn to scrunch whilst the president’s voice fills the air once more, gradually re-earning the former chancellor’s attention. “I signed a treaty in the name of allowing both nations to exist separately. Running a chaos candidate across the neutral zone would both be disparaging that vow and it’d be seen as an act of opposition to the agreement by whichever candidate ended up winning” Leon defends, “there’s no point in starting a war.” “You say that like the candidate that even the current president thinks is going to win isn’t running on a platform of ‘light the heavens on fire and invade Athens’, dude” Jaime replies with a humoured grin, finding little sense in the man’s conclusion, “if ever there was a time for a chaos candidate, one would think now is that time.” Hanging his head, Leon frowns whilst remaining kept to himself, the inspection into his silence not allowed to exist without question by the chancellor, however. “Oh, let me guess... I just don’t understand?” Jaime invites, watching the man’s eyes lift back to face her as she speaks, “I do understand. I’ve seen threats to everything that I created, and regardless of the agreement I’d made, I always did what I had to for the good of my people and my republic.” “Number one, no one would vote for the chaos candidate. In this election, that would leave us dealing with a president who either wants to break our treaty or break our sovereignty” Leon answers, watching the chancellor grin as she rolls her eyes, “he’d be a lot less willing to work with us to prevent escalation if we threatened Free Boston’s sovereignty.” “It doesn’t seem like he’s too keen on letting us live in peace to begin with, Leon. That’s number one” Jaime responds, stepping away from the counter whilst approaching the president, “number two is that you seem to underestimate how many people would be willing to vote in your favour.” “You say that like Free Boston doesn’t exist exclusively to be free from the restrictions of Athens” Leon retorts, watching the woman scoff with a muffled chuckle, shaking her head with the same, shit-eating grin. “It certainly was founded that way, but by how many people are begging to be let into our side of the fence, it seems like it hasn’t stayed that way” Jaime replies, stopping her advancement only a few feet away from the seated leader. “The only reason those fools are voting for that mop-headed weirdo is because they think that change has to take the form of lighting the sky on fire” she continues, each comment that she utters affording Velma a moment to take it to heart and digest it like intellectual soup, “I think they’d open their minds to the idea of something a lot less drastic if they were shown it.” Letting his eyes hang, Leon’s view takes itself toward the ground as he pulls his lips as far away from each other as he can whilst resting the tops of his teeth together. “It does make sense, Leon” Velma remarks from a few paces behind the pair, prompting the man’s surprised look to drift in the woman’s direction, “she’s got leadership experience and she clearly knows how to control a crowd.” “One of the asses in power will have her assassinated before her status amongst voters can even be polled” Leon immediately replies, watching the confidant shrug with a frown. “If she’s alright with running that risk, she might be the best shot that we’ll ever get” Velma retorts, hearing the sigh that the president immediately reacts with, “I highly doubt Dean would ever be open to negotiating with us with how poor our ability to defend ourselves in comparison is.” Without giving the follow-up much consideration, Leon shakes his head and presses his hands against the chair’s sides, pushing himself to a stand as he steps away. “No” the president answers, refusing the woman’s advances before making toward the room’s exit, “I’ll go talk to Spence about it, but I’m not going to entertain sending over a chaos candidate.” “What makes you think that you have a say?” Jaime quickly rebuttals, prompting the man to stop in his tracks and turn back, looking at the chancellor that suddenly takes on a more confrontational demeanour. With his mouth agape, Leon stares back at the woman for a few seconds without uttering a word, only choosing to break the streak of quietude by returning to the woman’s person. “I don’t want to have to be the guy that keeps relentlessly throwing this up in your face, but I’ll remind you of this whenever necessary...” he recalls, lowering the tone of his voice as he gets closer to the chancellor’s face, “...this is my community and I’m in charge around here.” With a demeaning expression, Jaime matches the man’s imposing demeanour by stepping into his face, the steam that rises from her mug now able to waft over both of their faces. “Last time I checked, you may be Athens' leader but that doesn’t necessarily make you my leader” she retaliates, challenging the man’s authority in a regard that Velma can’t help but click her tongue and bow her head at, wanting to refrain from getting involved where her nose isn’t needed. “As true as that may be, crossing the line into Free Boston without anything but the clothes on your back will just see you storming back up to our gates before spring” Leon responds, his comments hiding the undertone that dares the woman to take her chances across the neutral zone. “It’s like Velly said a few days ago... Free Boston makes people see just how truly over their heads they are once you cross that fence” the president adds on, shaking his head with disapproval, “be glad the people that found you were with us.” “I don’t mean to question your authority or imply that you don’t know what you’re doing, but I’ve been in the place that you’re in and I made the wrong call” Jaime responds, gently stepping to the side to place her mug upon the counter just beside the confidant on stand by. “I had people in my ear telling me that I was trusting the wrong people and all I needed to do was one thing that I wasn’t willing to” the chancellor recalls, “I continued doing what I did, and it was the end of the republic.” “As much as I appreciate you trying to keep me from making a similar mistake, this call is mine to make. I’m not willing to risk losing any small bit of hope that Dean would be willing to work out peaceful solutions that let the both of us co-exist” Leon concludes, making his peace clear with a composed and incredibly peaceful attitude, not holding the woman’s stance against her as he turns away, retreating for the door with his hand held out. “Oh, one more thing...” he calls back, pulling the door open before pausing as he steps between its doorway, turning back halfway with eyes upon the chancellor as he sets out for his departure, “I know you may not have chosen Athens yet and I may not technically be your president, but I do hope you choose to change that.” Though their conversation didn’t go the way either had been hoping, the president and his west coast-native acquaintance end it on similarly hopeful terms, remaining at peace in a way that affords Jaime the chance to turn back, seeing a half-shrug emanate from Velma as she sips at her drink, playing off the discourse’s conclusion as nothing but more of the same. = Athens of America is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onwards = “A referendum?” Ken questions back, returning to his fellow country leader with a coffee in hand, handing it over to the friendly palm that accepts it. “You can run a campaign of being more friendly with Athens. You’ll say that you are willing to work with us to make travelling between our nations a possibility beyond the neutral zone” Leon proposes, occupying the Free Boston president’s desk by taking a seat at the front of it, looking toward the man that stands opposite him. “I can address Athens and tell them that I’m finally open to expanding. We’ll stretch out our territory and all of a sudden have more room to take in people who want relief from your anarcho-libertarian utopia over here” the Athens leader continues, “the down-trodden will suddenly stop looking to Dean like a ‘Jesus-figure’ and start switching to the guy willing to be more diplomatic.” “You say that as if the people that truly matter... y’know, the ones with private mercenaries able to take out a candidate with the easiest pull of the trigger... would let that slide” Ken retorts, watching his contemporary nod in agreement with the claim. “That’s exactly why we’ll let word spread that, even though Athens will remain mostly communal, we would be willing to do business with Free Boston companies to import goods we can’t make ourselves” Leon explains. “So business owners see a way to enter a new market like history always presents them with. This wouldn’t be the first time they’ve gotten this opportunity” Ken responds, shrugging at the proposal, “but why accept doing business with Athens when they can just expand out toward Mission Park or somewhere and make a new market all to themselves?” “It doesn’t matter so long as the people are in favour of supporting our two sides finding a common ground that will allow them to choose one or the other without feeling like they’re sacrificing too much to do so” Leon reassures, seeing the visible reluctance that takes shape upon the Free Boston president’s face, “the will of the people will carry you across the finish line, but Athens doing business with your ‘elite’... whatever that term means around here... might be enough to convince them to stomach it.” “I don’t think you’re correct in that assumption” Ken concludes, frowning as he shakes his head and returns to the business side of his desk, amusing the Athens leader in a way he wouldn’t have expected. “I don’t see how you have any other choice at this rate” Leon replies, pushing himself off the desk whilst following the leader’s figure as he walks around the table, “you wouldn’t be actively running for re-election if you didn’t still want this job. As far as I’m concerned, you don’t have any better campaign platform than this.” “If I refuse to run for re-election outright, the rest of the year will be spent with the people capable of ending my life thinking I’m in a ‘fuck it, I’m almost out of here anyway’ attitude that they ought to just get rid of when they can” Ken counters, descending back into his seat, “I’ll be able to get out of here alive if I run an inoffensive campaign that never sees me as a credible threat, and then I hand over the keys to whoever the public gives the nod to after it’s all done.” “Sometimes I struggle to believe that you’ve become this much of a pussy since signing that treaty” Leon quickly fires back, offended by the lack of a fight that the leader appears to put up, “you wanted all of this. If you’re demoralised by the world that you created, then what was the fucking point of riling up all of those people when our two sides were one?” Placing the palms of his hands against the surface of his desk, Ken stares at the hardwood tabletop without speaking, letting the moment sit with his thoughts whilst the president of his original nation watches on, waiting for a reply. Mustering the will to press his lips together and scowl, the Free Boston figurehead lets his eyes lift back toward his once-adversary, a slight squint carrying itself back toward the man like the bindle to a child who’d run away from home upon realising he was better off under his parent’s roof. “I became demoralised in the world that I created the day that I saw a little girl get run into by a speeding sports car that proceeded to drive off and leave her for dead in front of everyone in broad daylight” Ken confesses, visibly horrified at replaying the images in his head, “what really drove the nail into my heart was watching so many people call this out to a man in a paramedic’s uniform for help, and he did nothing but walk past and ask them all what she had to offer him in return.” As disgusted by the thought as anyone else would be, Leon lets his head hang before forcing himself to look back toward his fellow leader the moment his words begin leaving the Free Boston president’s lips once more. “It was on that day that I regretted everything that led up to this place being created and that has not changed since” Ken remarks, sliding his palms away from the table once more as he leans back in his seat, “so, I’m sorry that I gave you so much trouble for nothing.” Sliding back in his chair, Ken reaches into one of the cabinets on his desk’s side before retrieving a rolodex and a landline phone, spinning through the cycle before spotting out one number of interest. “Do you still believe in what you wanted to create then?” Leon proceeds to inquire, immediately prompting Free Boston’s founder to let out a groan and hang his head, pulling away from his task to address the question. “Why are you so eager to get me to start stepping on toes that I’ve gone long enough to afford crunching down on, Leon?” the irritated president queries, looking toward the man that’s requested more unscheduled visits over the last three days than at any time since they both took up opposite reigns. “Because you may not have hope for what you started, but I do. Choosing to keep yourself from being a viable alternative to Dean just lets him run away with the election” Leon responds, seeing a lack of resonance take shape in the leader’s face. “We all know what he thinks of Athens and how easy he thinks we’d be to invade” the visiting leadership proclaims, “letting your campaign be a farce doesn’t just mean the death of whatever you tried to build, but it means the death of what I did build.” “Leon, what you built is no more sustainable than what I built. The only difference is that yours will last longer” Ken responds, shaking his head with refusal as he lowers his eyes back toward the sheet of contacts he searches through. “Which is why I’m willing to open Athens up further than I initially had to ensure that both of our communities can have a chance to exist how we envisioned them” Leon responds, watching the other man shake his head with an outright lack of belief. “No, Leon. You don’t care about what happens here unless it benefits or hurts you and your camp” Ken replies, pointing toward the exit of his office as a display for his claim. “I’m entitled to give no shit about you or your people all the same. If that makes me a bad guy in your eyes, so be it. It never mattered to me before, and it sure as hell won’t matter to me now” the now-angry president proclaims, “you’re only here because you’ve run out of options. The second you walk through that door, it’ll be business as usual.” “Do you want me to claim otherwise, Ken?” Leon questions back, shrugging as he plants both hands onto his hips, wanting to hear what the irritated national founder expects of him. “What I want is for you to let me quietly ride off into the sunset and retire to pasture, alright?” Ken answers honestly, not reserving his frustration or subdued hostilities, “I’ve got a year left in this job and then I’m home free. If you don’t like my successor, I’d suggest you start using the time you’ve got now to barter less and better prepare yourself for invasion.” With his hands clenched into fists, Leon stares at the ground whilst he simmers, hearing the president dial into his landline the phone number he’d set out to find before turning back for the office’s exit. “Oh, and just so we’re on the same page... I know what you said about me yesterday- right as you were leaving- was meant as a slight...” Ken proclaims, holding the phone’s receiver against his chest, “...but you’re right. I’m not the right person to lead these people, and I will happily admit it anytime, anyplace, and anywhere.” Sweeping an irritated breath of air into his lungs, Leon grits his teeth and leaves the building, making for home just as he had a day prior with the meeting going just as well as it had less than twenty four hours ago. Cleared of his visitor, Ken watches the man’s figure vanish beyond where the glass window will allow him to see whilst continuing to press the phone against his ear, hearing the muffled response from the caller as it bleeds into his dress shirt. “Yeah, I’m here. I’m sorry for taking so long to call you back. I was...” Ken apologises, pausing for a moment as he considers his words, letting them sit with his mind for a moment whilst continuing to stare at the trail his leadership contemporary had travelled amidst his departure, “...taking some things into consideration.” == Athens of America == “You deserve a Free Boston that is legitimately free!” a man with shaggy hair proclaims, walking toward the front of a stage with a microphone in hand, being cheered on by thousands of people who stretch their hands out toward him as if he were the man they prayed to directly. “You’ve been taken advantage of by a man who used you to get what he wanted!” the well-supported figure declares, receiving just as much of an ovation as he had since stepping onto the stage.
“He got his capitalist utopia and all the protection that came with being the president, but it was you... the people... who were led astray!” he howls, hearing the audience scream with defiance as they bury their fist through the air. “I’m sure that leaves some of you thinking that you want another choice beside him... No! You want change!” the suited gentleman remarks, receiving a howl of support from those that gather beneath his stage, some carrying tears that stream down their faces at his presence. “I’m sure my opponent, Mr. Sparks, believes that he’s just as much of the change candidate that I am, but he... my friends... is not” the politician remarks, shaking his head as he comes to a stop three inches from the edge of the stage, looking toward the faces with tears of joy that look up to him, placing him on a level above them that he uses to survey them from. “The man is as greedy as the president you have now, but what he doesn’t see is what I see” the candidate declares, kneeling toward the front row whilst pointing two fingers toward his own eyes, “I see you and the suffering that you endure. I see you and the pain that you’ve been living in and I say... no more pain.” Pushing himself off the ground, the presidential hopeful holds one hand out by his side whilst cradling the microphone with the other, his head leaning toward the shoulder opposite the arm that stretches outward. “Free Boston is in need of a miracle and we can all see that. It’s why I’ve taken the campaign slogan- as inciting as it is- of ‘Light the Sky on Fire’” the candidate vows, letting his posture correct itself as he stands upright once more, “Free Boston has found its miracle candidate, and that... my friends... is Blake Dean.” Nodding, Blake watches the crowd stand in support whilst waving the flag of Boston, the light blue background having been purposefully deepened into a shade as deep as the ocean beyond its coastline. “We will stand tall over Mr. Spence’s nation and we will prevail as was intended” he promises, clenching his hand into a fist that he proudly displays, “we were always meant to succeed, but we were prevented by government overreach that will have no place in my administration.” Taking a few steps backward, Dean traipses toward the side of the stage to his right whilst a bright spotlight follows his each step, panning to the crowd at times just as many of the other lanterns do. “This campaign is starting a revolution on behalf of the people, not at the people’s expense the way that Mr. Spence had it” the candidate declares, speaking to an audience that feeds into every word that he utters, sinking their teeth into it like a rabid dog would a raw steak. “He wanted liberation from the hammer-and-sickle celebrators next door, and he used all of you to get it” Blake explains, holding a finger toward the half of the crowd that he stands before, appearing slightly more reserved in his demeanour, “Mr. Spence is a threat to our democracy.” To the loudest ovation that he’s yet received, the candidate nods assuredly as the microphone lowers from his face, affording the audience a good look at the visage of the man they so desperately wish to save them from those who do them harm from the most powerful of all seats within the nation. Like a figure of defiance, Blake looks at the sea of humanity that surrounds the stage with a curved end in all directions, the masses gathered in the thousands and begging the gods that they believe in to brand the one they’ve taken to declaring as one themselves to be the next leader of their unequal world. “The world that Mr. Spence has built for you is one that more closely resembles a cage, and he’s placed you inside of it and locked the door shut” Dean remarks, shifting his hand through the air as if he were reaching for a key and sliding it into a padlock, “my friends, it is time for someone to come around and free you from that cage.” Calmly shifting course and turning back toward the centre of the stage, Blake looks at the world that lingers within his fingers like the lingerie of a lover thrown over a changing board and caught through sheer luck. “My vision for you is a world where you are no longer confined to that cage, but you sentence Mr. Spence to live in it instead” utters the presidential hopeful, finding just as much vocal support as he had throughout the rally’s duration. “This is a world where it takes all of us to make the change that we so desperately desire” Blake declares, holding one hand out as he looks toward the audience, holding their love within his grasp as he uses it to carry his message along. “The change is in your hands to make possible, and it doesn’t just begin at the ballot box... But it does end at it” he commands, smiling from ear to ear as he pulls in a deep breath, again proudly displaying the fist that he symbolises his change through, “light the sky on fire, my friends.” Emphatically letting the microphone fall from his hand and collide with the ground to a resonate thud, Dean begins backstepping as the audience continues to lose their minds for his words of warfare, interjecting a passion and life to a political sphere that is ripe for someone like him to command the spotlight of. Lifting one hand into the air, he retreats for the curtain and bids his supporters adieu before the gleeful look on his face deepens beyond the point of genuinity, moulding itself into a look of pure self-satisfaction as he returns to the curtain, masking himself behind its coverage whilst the audience continues to enrapture themselves within his declaration. = Athens of America is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onwards = Huddled together nearly shoulder to shoulder as they collectively squeeze into the parking lot, Athens’ population begins quieting down from their shared banter with each other, taking notice of the arrival of a man flanked by other men of similarly dark and heavy clothing. At capacity, the chosen centre for the public address begins spilling people into the road at either side like bulbs pouring out of a sliced-open stress ball, the vast majority of the nation’s civilian life having gathered near the town’s recognisable stadium’s front entrance. Stepping through the open slot between a scissor lift’s railing, Leon steps to the side as Velma joins him atop the platform, the chain that is attached from one end to the other after their arrival being the evidence that the pair need to control the utility. Gently pushing a joystick upward, the president ascends above the audience whilst they remain collectively silent, waiting out the man’s modest climb for an explanation many have been waiting for since the sun had first risen. “Thank you for being here” Leon begins, ending the ascent only fifteen feet into the air, wanting to be the centre of the crowd’s attention without propelling himself too far above them. Pressing his teeth together as he lets out a visible breath, the president continues to stare outward as he lets the words that he didn’t plan for ahead of time instead come to him, not feeling the need for much of a lead-in. “There are a few things that seem to have gotten out of hand it seems. I understand the concern and I’m open to your questions” he furthers, allowed to do so whilst Velma stands behind him and off to the side, her hands coupled together at her lap. Just now arriving to the overcrowded parking lot with a t-shirt wrapped around her face like a makeshift balaclava, Jaime crosses her arms and keeps to herself as she listens into the president’s distant voice, barely able to make it out from the distance, but assisted in the bouncing of it off the walls of each surrounding building. “I’d like to make it clear that my visit to Free Boston earlier today has seemingly been blown way out of proportion. People have read into things that they shouldn’t” Leon claims, watching the audience mentally pull back with reservation over his correction, “there is no concern regarding Free Boston.” “Why did you go there?” a voice calls out from the front of the crowd, immediately receiving a lifted finger from the paused and yet-quiet leader. “Hold on, I want to make sure we’ve all got a way to ask questions without stumbling over each other for an answer” Leon assures, quelling the discontent before it can be offered the chance to prevail, “I want everyone to raise a hand if they have a question. If someone asks the question you wanted to ask, lower your hand so we can answer all concerns.” Without hesitation, hundreds of hands fly into the air, cascading the audience in a sea of palms with such an intense swarm that most faces aren’t even visible to the pair of figures standing above. “Good luck getting out of this one, Mr. President” Jaime murmurs from beneath her light layer of clothing, smirking to herself whilst taking amusement in the manner in which he inspects the audience, picking on the woman who’d initially prompted his solution to the overwhelming fleet of inquisitions. “Yeah, I’ll ask my question again. Why did you go over there?” the woman asks for a second time, prompting nearly a third of the audience’s hands to climb down from their reach toward the heavens, a few faces emerging from beyond the wall of stretched-apart fingers. “I went there because I found out information about the tragedy that I thought might assist President Spence in his re-election bid” Leon responds, immediately watching the majority of hands that had just fallen return to the air. “That was expected” Jaime remarks beneath her breath, crossing her arms and pressing her shoulder into the concrete wall of the building she’d been standing beside. “Since I know you want to ask, I’ll answer both questions that may have just popped into your heads” Leon remarks, getting ahead of the curve and beating most of the hands to the punch. “I care about helping President Spence get re-elected in Free Boston because I believe he’s the candidate they have that can offer Athens the best chance at being able to thrive” Leon quips, seeing only a small set of hands fall, “and what I learned about the tragedy is that it wasn’t actually an accident.” Immediately sparking discussion amongst the public as only a few sets of hands go down, the president listens into the banter shared amongst those beneath him whilst pausing, wanting to allow them to formulate their thoughts before pointing toward another man near the front of the crowd. “I wanted to ask if we’re going to be under attack, but now I want to know what you meant by that” the man confesses, switching his initial inquiry, “what actually happened and how do you know it wasn’t an accident?” “We’re not going to be under attack from anyone” Leon begins, answering the man’s first question without anything even remotely resembling an open-ended statement, refusing to let the audience feast on the words unspoken. “We came into contact with a community out west that had more direct contact with the federal government prior to its dissolution” the president furthers, tucking his hands into the pockets of his winter wear, “they were informed that the tragedy had actually been a government project gone wrong.” “So much for honesty” Jaime whispers to herself, squinting through the slot in her makeshift facial covering, its slim stretch from one side of her face to the other all that affords passers by a glimpse of her. “What was the project for?” another woman inquires, prompting absolutely no hands other than her own to fall. “We’re not sure. They had their opinions but they never got a definitive answer before communication was lost” Leon responds, doing a commendable job in propelling his voice through the air naturally. “I know one of the next questions will be about their status, so I’ll get that out of the way right now...” the president furthers, seeing a good number of hands begin to fall as he pauses, taking in a deeper breath as he concerns himself with the reaction they’ll take to the news, “...the community out west has been lost.” Speaking amongst themselves just as they’d be expected to, Athens’ population continues to hold their hands into the air despite no one being chosen to speak, their questions being predicted by the man without prompting. “They were of the belief that the project was one of population control. The idea that the government had enacted a plan to kill off the lesser members of its population that went further than expected” Leon comments, bringing a collective awe amongst the populace. “We’re not sure how the bomb was dropped, but we know one was responsible for wiping out the community and sending its population scattering” he concludes, making it a mission to expel concerns already bubbling within the people’s surface, “but- whoever dropped the bomb on them- it was not Free Boston.” “How do you know any of this!?” a woman calls out from within the audience, her question asked without being prompted whilst Leon lifts his finger toward her, attempting to quell the organisational disarray before the rest of the crowd begins huddling together and asking similar inquiries. “Everyone, hold on!” the president proclaims, watching as a good half of the crowd take recognition of his command whilst the rest of them refuse to follow it, speaking aloud in a way that renders him incapable of hearing any of the questions being asked. Pressing her lips together as the scene grows out of hand, Velma listens to the half of the audience that had piped down at Leon’s behest begin asking their questions aloud once more, adding to the jumbled mess of incoherent nonsense. Attempting to regain control, Leon begrudgingly starts growing impatient and frustrated, letting out a deep sigh as his head hangs to the side, looking out at the audience that surrounds him and asks for insight he can’t understand them enough to offer. Rolling her eyes, Jaime turns her back to the public assembly and looks around the road for a moment, gathering the sights within her view for a moment before looking upward, noticing the second level of the building beside her before following the sidewalk toward its entrance. | “Leon, this isn’t going to work” Velma remarks, tapping the man on the arm and earning his direct line of sight, “all you’re doing is replacing their fears of Free Boston with fears of whoever took out the group in California.” With a frown, Leon turns away from the audience and approaches his close confidant, lowering his face close to hers in order for his voice to get a foothold over the sound of the vocal citizens. “What do you suggest that I do, Velly? I can’t just dismiss them” the president asks, seeing little sense in doing anything other than standing around and waiting for the audience to get their aggressions out. “Either way, they’re going to go home tonight assuming that there’s someone to fear regardless” Velma retorts, looking her leader in the eyes as he takes a pause, “no matter how reassuring you can be, everyone’s going to go home tonight with this danger in the back of their heads.” “Not everyone has to, and that’s the point” Leon responds, taking one step back toward the crowd as they continue asking for information that they’re refused the longer that they speak over each other. “Do you want answers or not!?” the president shouts toward the audience, prompting Velma to roll her eyes with a great deal of dissatisfaction worn on her face, the most-optimal plan of cutting their losses and bidding the public adieu being ignored, “you need to all quiet down then!” As if the request were too great for them to adhere to, the most livid members of the crowd shout back with their own questions and levy their own thoughts, feeling like they’ve already given more than they’ve gotten out of the meeting. Frustrated, Leon’s shoulders fall as his palms wrap around the metal bannister, fingers locking around the small, cylindrical support whilst a heavy breath leaves through his parted lips, clouding the air and circling back upon itself until the audience’s roar goes silent with the sound of shattering glass. Looking toward the distance just as the audience does, Leon squints toward the very back of the parking lot for a better look at the building in which the attention-thief had made their presence known. Having covered her hand with the shirt that she’d initially worn over her face, Jaime climbs onto the ledge of the shattered window and looks out among the sea of people, standing in complete silence. “This has clearly not gone to plan, so here’s how this is going to work...” Jaime shouts, not concerning herself with whose toes she steps on or what people do or don’t want to hear, the business she has in the moment not being with making friends, but solving the problem of discontent. “...I’m going to tell you what you need to hear, you are going to shut the fuck up, and when I’m done talking, you’re all going to wait for your leader to tell you what to do” she declares, prompting a few people within the audience to speak amongst each other, recognising the girl’s face from earlier in the day. “What are you doing?” Leon whispers aloud, asking for insight that he knows the woman could never overhear, but still intrigued by the uncertainty that her interruption brings. “First of all, I’m Jaime. I’m the person that was in charge of the republic out west... It was called the Angelino Republic” the woman continues, pointing toward one woman in the crowd that whispers to a friend whilst widening her own eyes, “you- and everyone else- shut the fuck up. I want no one whispering among themselves. That’s final.” Though she doesn’t physically appear anymore imposing than whomever else could stake claim to a title of leadership, the confidence and lack of hesitancy in the former chancellor’s voice prompts the gathered masses to do as they’re told, at least coming away from her declaration feeling as if she’s firm in what she says. “The thing that you call ‘The Tragedy’ is what we out west called ‘The Catalyst’, and we don’t think it was a purposeful attempt at population control, we know it was” Jaime proclaims. “How!?” a man from within the audience just nearby to the building that she stands within calls out, again earning the woman’s ire. “Shut your mouth, pencildick. If I hear from you again, I’m gonna leap out of this window and land on you feet first, got it?” Jaime challenges, watching the man’s head bow as he lifts a hand upward, gesturing an apology toward the woman as the rest of the audience goes quiet once more. “Our mayor in Los Angeles was one of the people that the Catalyst killed. He was replaced by a man named Django, who we eventually overthrew” Jaime explains, surveying the audience from her elevated position. “Before we ousted him, he’d told us that the Catalyst was intended to decrease the population. The water was polluted where it wasn’t meant to, the pollution spread, and here we are” she proceeds, pausing without hearing an interruption from below for the first time all night, a feat that even Leon couldn’t assure for himself. “Django fled, but we eventually found the helicopter he’d gotten away in crashed in the desert somewhere around Las Vegas” Jaime proceeds, lowering herself to the heating unit that she’d stood on to speak to the audience, instead choosing to take a casual seat and dangle her legs over the window’s base. “I’d sent two of my closest friends out to Colorado after we were told that the rest of the government might be staying in a base within the mountains” she recalls, “they found his plane... and his body.” Keeping to themselves whilst their newest arrival controls the population, Leon and Velma stand back and hope for the best in the woman’s remarks, allowing themselves to embrace whatever information she offers that they’d preferred to speak about only loosely. “They were ambushed at the base. They fought back, but we lost some of our soldiers” Jaime carries on, now comfortably bouncing her legs off the concrete wall one after another, swaying them like a child overlooking a gorgeous view and enjoying her time with it. “We discovered that there’s a weather cycle that keeps circling the globe. An acid rain storm that just keeps slowly making its way around and around again. I’m sure you’ve seen the green clouds and everything... that’s what it is” the chancellor announces, disclosing information that not even the leaders of Athens had been in charge of until now. “Most governments completely collapsed. Society was overturned in most countries, and the few that were left standing have publicly blamed the United States” Jaime explains, no longer needing to engage the audience’s attention even if she wanted to, the information that she offers intriguing the collective populace beyond the point that their leaders could manufacture. “Going to the base must have triggered an alarm or something that we didn’t know about when we entered. It was empty at first, but then people started showing up and claimed to be sent by me” the private citizen with all of Athens in the palm of her hand remarks, “those people were affiliated with a group of officials and military generals from the old federal government. The one that enacted the Catalyst in the first place.” Biting his bottom lip out of worry, Leon sucks in a deep breath and hopes that his new acquaintance can subdue the blow that he’d carefully prepared to lay onto the audience, wishing she’d carry enough grace within her delivery to have a similar effect. “Those remnants called themselves the New Democratic Front. Or, alternatively, the NDF for short...” Jaime replies, pointing her finger through the air at no one in particular as her eyes survey the crowd, “...that is who bombed us.” With their various sensations of awe, Athens’ people keep their thoughts to themselves out of fear over instigating another retaliation from the woman above, feeling like they’re finally being given some clarity that they hadn’t been trusted with before. “I don’t know what Leon wants you to believe, but the NDF is still out there. And I don’t want to put worry in your head, but I’m one hundred percent certain that they’ll find this place eventually” Jaime warns, “they won’t bomb you immediately, but I’m sure they will if you left them no other choice.” Grimacing, Leon hides his reservations as well as he can manage whilst Velma remains standing behind him, remaining somewhat hopeful that their burden-reliever can right the ship that her words had set on a direct course of worry. “My point is that my people were saved. Some went off with the NDF to their base in Pearl Harbor while others ran before the bombs dropped” Jaime explains, shaking her head with a grin, “but everyone that deserved to live got to live.” Her tone still loud and commanding, the chancellor’s voice begins carrying the slightest semblance of relief and hope that the rest of the audience beneath her feet begin to gravitate toward. “They lived because they weren’t afraid to band together and do what needed to be done. It’s how we took over the city and turned it into our republic, and it’s how they all saved themselves” Jaime explains, a slight lightening of her reflection taking shape. “I don’t know how many of you have been following what’s going on over in Free Boston, but they’re in an election season right now. They’re banding together into little camps and picking someone that they want to represent every single one of them” she comments, pointing to the neighbouring nation’s direction, “do you know who’s running for their head office?” Being met with the silence that she’d demanded upon taking over the discourse, Jaime lets her pause naturally conclude without interruption, something that brings a slight grin over her face. “One guy is telling his voters to ‘light the sky on fire’. Let me repeat that... light the sky on fire. He’s practically calling for his supporters to start a riot for him when they cast their ballots” she proclaims, a gesture that doesn’t ease the worries of those before her, “well, I’ll tell you right now that I know what I’m talking about when I say... There is no need to light the sky on fire.” Nodding to themselves, a few sets of hands begin to applaud before the rest of the audience joins in instinctively, eliciting a few roars of approval from those within the populace whilst Leon and Velma watch on with surprised grins. “I don’t know when it will be or what it will look like, but the NDF will come knocking at your doors. And when that happens, you need to be better than what they are over in Free Boston” Jaime declares, “if you choose to see the sense in what I’m saying, then you will get to live.” Cheering and applauding into a gradual boast, the people of Athens celebrate the woman’s words as they spark a renewed hope within those who’d come to the assembly fearing the worst, their concerns being alleviated as the chancellor of the nation they’d never known of until today smiles at their reaction. “Now, I’m going to turn this meeting over to the man who’s actually in charge of this place” Jaime declares, pointing in the direction of the lift-occupying leader, who pulls away from the machinery’s railing as his acquaintance concludes, “do what he says, go back home, and have a good night.” With just as ceremonious of an entry as she’d made, Jaime climbs back into the building that she’d broken into and vanishes into the night, hearing the applause that she leaves behind, having righted the ship that the Athens leader refuses to let himself knock off course once more. “That will be all, I guess!” Leon announces, holding his hands out at either side whilst he looks into the good will that the public has seemingly found themselves embracing together, the president’s eyes drifting back toward the empty window that his audience-commander leaves behind, unable to take his mind away from the woman as he ends the evening on a high note. “Meeting adjourned!” == Athens of America == “Open the gate!” a man in a kevlar vest-topped uniform proclaims, shouting to a pair of men dressed just the same at the first sight of their guests. “Should I expect more people standing on the other side to greet us or not?” Jaime inquires, whispering to the man that she stands off to the side of, seeing the angry expression that consumes his face like a bad omen clouds a man’s sunny day, the voice he responds to her with both deep and reserved.
“Word travels fast in Athens. I’m willing to bet there will be more” Leon answers, keeping his hands at either side as the woman beside him nods, puckering her lips whilst her head briefly drifts toward the side. “Then if I were you, I’d try to smile a little bit more” Jaime retorts, leaning toward the man for a moment as she responds, only to look him in the eyes as his displeased expression slowly veers around to her, “if your community sees you with that scowl, they might think things have gone wrong.” Sucking on his lips, Leon looks at the woman as her unbothered face begins turning its attention toward the gradually-parting doors that begin revealing the neutral zone and those that have awaited their return from the opposite side of it. Giving into the woman’s advice, the president of the nation he sets out to return to lets his visage warm into one of pleasure to be re-entered into his homeland, paying a reassuring look to those that line the road between two countries. Collectively keeping their thoughts to themselves, people from both sides of the line of demarcation watch as the dark-skinned gentleman and his pale, blonde acquaintance venture beyond the national border, setting their direction on course with the land which they belong to. “What’s going on?” a woman calls out from within the crowd, standing near the front but being partially covered by a pair of women who equally wonder the same thing, just doing so quietly. “We paid a visit to Ken Spence. Nothing more and nothing less” Leon responds in kind, allowed to do the talking whilst his friend follows along, simply wishing for their journey to conclude in favour of whatever planning that the Athens president had originally planned for. “Are we in trouble?” a soul questions aloud from a short distance behind the initial question’s source, catching the leader’s ear just as easily as the first pair of lips. “No, everything’s fine. Why would you think that?” Leon asks back, looking in the direction of the question before his answer is obstructed by the asking of yet another inquiry from the opposite side of the street. “Why were you seeing their president!?” the third voice asks aloud, prompting both figures returning from their diplomatic journey to turn toward the opposite end of the road, only to set their sights back toward their left at yet another inquiry. “Is that Jaime!?” a man asks aloud, stealing both leaders’ attention before prompting the woman in question to squint, looking toward the man that she travels alongside for clarification. “How the hell do you know her na-?” Leon queries back, stopping in his tracks for a moment before Jaime follows suit, needing a second to catch up. “Why didn’t you tell us about your trip!?” a woman asks from only a short distance away from the man, also taking the Athens figurehead’s intrigue before yet another question is levied from the opposite side of the road once more. “Is there something you’re not telling us!?” the next quandary is presented before all further inquisitions become too drowned out to be heard at all, suffocated by the interests of one another as the dozens of voices asking for reassurance and information begin muddling together into a loud cesspool of nonsense. Standing guard, the security detail that accompanies the pair back from Free Boston begin nudging Leon forward, snapping him out of his confused haze as he looks around the road, trying to listen into any question that his ear can separate from the rest whilst growing more confused about the information that’s overheard. Giving into the behest of his hired professionals, Leon returns to his forward-journey whilst the members of the crowd that he and his contemporary pass begin collecting on the street, following the armed soldiers onward as their questions go unanswered. Following suit, Jaime checks her immediate surroundings whilst becoming level with Athens’ leader once more, unsure of where they’re going or what’s unfolding in her every direction, but knowing that a portion of it appears to regard her involvement. = Athens of America is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onwards = “Did you get a hold of him!?” Velma questions aloud, stepping away from one corner of the familiar suite to the one that’s already occupied, receiving a shake of the head from the man that she spots out. “They said he left about twenty minutes ago” Jay answers, hanging up the phone that sits atop the wall, prompting the woman who asks to let out a sigh as she hangs her head with hands on her hips. “Shit. That means he’ll probably have crossed the neutral zone by now” Velma responds beneath her breath, thinking to herself for a moment before turning toward a man that stands at the door. “Go check around with some of your patrolmen to figure out where they are right now” the woman with a scarred left eye commands, watching the man turn his body toward the room’s exit before pausing at the continuation of her order, “if they can’t find out for certain, tell them to look for the fuckin’ mob that’s probably tailing them.” “Understood” the man in heavy winter clothing responds, stepping through the door and rounding the short stack of concrete rows that surround the stadium’s suite section. “Everything’s going to be fine. Most people will be upset, but not crazy enough to harm either of them” Sidney remarks, standing in the opposite corner of the room from the man who’d just hung up the phone, “there’s nothing we’ll be telling him when he gets here that wouldn’t have-” “Why the fuck are you even fuckin’ talking right now, Sid!?” Velma shouts, spinning around with a vehement anger as she stops the woman’s comment in its place, “you’re the whole reason this got out of fuckin’ hand in the first-!” Kept from finishing her declaration, the woman’s shoulder is pulled back at the heavy hand of the third party in this conversation, his pull yanking her back a pair of steps as he keeps her from continuing to speak. “If you can’t keep your shit under control, then shut the fuck up and sit down, Velly” Jay warns, stepping between the woman and the much more self-disheartened subject of her aggression. “Jackson, we’re in deep fuckin’ shit because of this!” Velma retorts, half-heartedly smacking the man’s hand away from the side of her neck, “how many times do we need to tell this woman to keep her fuckin’ mouth sh-!?” “Velly, I don’t want to warn you again. Get your shit together or shut your fucking trap, you hear me?” Jay calmly interjects again, keeping the woman’s anger at bay with enough composure to provoke her into spinning around out of frustration. “I know we were going to have to say something eventually, but I didn’t mean to say what I-” Sidney remarks, trying to take the opening to explain herself before voluntarily going silent, watching the woman who’d scolded her turn back for a second helping. “You shouldn’t have-!” Velma begins to turn back with a raised voice yet again, a finger pointing in the other girl’s direction before Jay again steps in front of her, throwing his hand into her chest to shove her back and maintain the ground between the two sides. Kept from speaking, the darker haired woman again turns around and begins walking toward the side of the room she’d been pushed toward, allowing another break of sound to come over the renovated suite. “I’m sorry, okay?” Sidney concludes, finishing her initial thought within the second lapse of hostility before hanging her head, prompting the man that had kept her from being yelled at worse than she would’ve expected to take over the conversation. “Listen, Sid. I love you, but Velly’s right” Jay replies, looking the woman in the eyes whilst speaking in a tone made for the indoors, “it’s getting to be a problem with how many times you’re spilling shit that shouldn’t be leaving this ballpark.” “I know” Sidney replies with her head hung, nodding in agreement with the man that stares at her for a moment, continuing to survey her demeanour for a second before turning back toward the woman in the opposite direction. “And Velly, I love you too. But at the end of the day, you need to keep your shit together” Jay remarks, watching the stressed and vigour-filled survivor turn back toward him with hands on her hips, “I get that you’re passionate about all of this, but throwing word salad at each other at an unreasonable volume doesn’t help anything.” “Fine” Velma begrudgingly responds without wasting a moment, answering the man’s comment the second that he finishes offering it, an eyebrow raised toward him after she spends a few seconds staring at the floor. Letting his eyes remain glued upon the woman without speaking, Jay continues to hold his stare upon her own as the words that he doesn’t say still find a way to make it toward her anyway. “Okay, Jackson” Velma corrects, sitting with the man’s comments for longer than before and digesting them more genuinely as desired. Satisfied, Jay nods his head toward the darker-haired authority figure before letting out a deep breath and hearing the door his back is turned toward push inward. On alert, the three confidants set their sights upon the entrance to the room, remaining silent as the door closes behind the woman that follows their leader inside. “What the hell was that all about?” Leon asks aloud, holding each hand outward at either side for a second before removing his coat, stepping further into the room as he tosses it onto a chair. “Perhaps we should speak in private?” Velma wonders aloud, watching the figurehead’s expression shift toward her without a word. Nodding her head toward Jaime, the scar-eye woman quietly gestures toward the guest that doesn’t fail to notice the silent shrug. “Yeah, no... I have a name” Jaime remarks, putting her sarcasm to use as she cuts through the tension in the room, lifting both hands as she jokingly sways her head from one shoulder to the other, “but no worries, I’ll see myself out.” “No” Leon quickly remarks, extending a hand toward the woman who’d followed him in as he turns toward her, his body’s direction shifting whilst the president’s face sets back upon the woman who’d propositioned the fifth soul’s departure, “you can say whatever you need to with her present.” “Are you sure you want to do that?” Jay inquires, making sure the president- who now lets his face guide itself toward the only other man in the room- has all of his bases covered. “She had to be hounded out there just like I had to be. If there’s anyone that deserves answers other than me, it’d be her” Leon responds, rounding the corner to the makeshift kitchen before taking a kettle’s handle into his possession, “now... should I rephrase my question, or does someone want to clue me in on what’s going on?” | Hearing a knock at the door, Jaime pays the hand no mind as she ventures toward her kitchen, wishing not to be bothered as she unscrews the cap to a bottle of bourbon and reaches for a clean glass. Kept from doing so, her ear catches the sound of the deadbolt she’d locked doing little to keep from an intrusion beyond the hotel room’s entrance, allowing the figure who’d called for the woman’s attention to grant herself entry. “I never said you could come in” Jaime remarks as she rounds the corner, recognising the face that wears a scar beneath her eye that had seemingly healed long ago. “The knocking is more out of common courtesy. The people in charge of Athens let ourselves in whenever we please” Velma responds, entering alone and being just as courteous as she had been upon knocking, closing the door on her way inside. “I see Athens doesn’t have much room for privacy then, does it?” the two-time chancellor rebuttals, returning to her kitchen with sights set on a clean set of glasses nearby, taking one from the rack and beginning to pour. “Consider yourself lucky for the time being that Leon’s taking such fuckin’ interest in you then. Athens is the last place on earth to go for privacy” Velma responds, rounding the corner to find Jaime over-pouring herself, “most people are mandated to live with a roommate.” “I’d assume that rule only applies for the common people though, right?” the new arrival responds, pressing her lower back into the counter whilst looking at the woman that pays her a visit, “you people in power play by a different set of rules like always, right?” Smiling without parting her lips, Velma’s grin carries itself toward the floor with the rest of her face whilst she sits with the question, her eyebrows eventually lifting when a retort is brought upon her mind. “I’d imagine that you know what it’s like, don’t you? Being in charge of that town out west probably netted you perks that other people didn’t get?” Velma inquires, watching the scowl-filled smile that she receives do most of the initial reacting instead of the words that follow. “First of all, it was a republic. Call it anything less and I’ll break your kneecaps” Jaime warns, watching the opposite woman’s expression shift into one of contention, amused at the threat. “Second of all, I got no benefits from being the leader that the rest of my people got. I had rations like everyone else and I had the means to make my own if I wanted more” the Angelino chancellor assures with a shrug, “my home was a mansion I’d bought before the catalyst hit. I’d fitted it with solar panels beforehand, and I stocked up on plenty of booze. Everything I had was stuff that anyone else could’ve gotten their hands on.” “A mansion, huh? You owned a mansion before the tragedy?” Velma queries, taking obvious intrigue over that line of speech to the chancellor’s amusement, “how did you afford a mansion?” Crossing one leg over the other, Jaime sways her head gently as she lifts the glass to her lips, “for the same reason that people decided to prop my face up when we overthrew the local government after the fact” she confesses, speaking into the glass with an echo, “I was a rich, famous, white woman.” “Oh yes, the hardest class of people to be” Velma replies, stepping forward to join the woman beside the sink, snapping up one of the empty glasses for herself before pouring a glass of bourbon for her own enjoyment. “How fuckin’ hard it is to be us with such dangerous jobs like doing the dishes, grocery shopping and dropping the children off at soccer privilege, oops!... I mean practise” she responds, pouring herself a responsible glass, “I suppose it didn’t take long to install you as their queen.” “I was their chancellor” Jaime corrects, listening to the flow of liquor hit the glass that soon comes into the palm of the visitor, who turns her back to the counter and faces the same blank wall as Athens’ newest citizen. “I learned on the job. I was only chosen to be the person everyone rallied around because I was the most noteworthy person that survived” she admits, taking no shame in accepting the terms of her reality at the time. “How did you make all that money while we’re on the subject?” Velma questions aloud, carrying a squint toward the distant corner of the kitchen that she soon carries toward the similarly-aged woman, “buying a house in California was never cheap to my understanding... Let alone a fuckin’ mansion.” “I came up with an app for high schoolers that let them interact with each other in more-isolated chat rooms and settings. Stuff you couldn’t access unless you were in the area and had something like a school I.D code” Jaime answers, staring into the distance as well whilst her apparent guest takes another sip. “I came up with it while I was in school myself and paid a classmate to develop it. Everyone kept using these different social media sites to talk to each other, so this just made it easier” she continues, turning to look at the scarred obstinate, who reciprocates the re-centred focus. “I just wanted to make it easier for my friends to invite me to parties” Jaime concedes, amusing both herself and the woman that shares her company, “anyway, I ended up selling it for a shitload of money. They kept me on as a spokeswoman after that until things went south.” “Sounds like you made out like a bandit, though. Had a pretty cushy adulthood until the tragedy swept through?” Velma queries, watching the woman’s eyes fall, though her face remains aiming forward, “you got to ride that wave all the way to the big chair once everything fell apart.” Shaking her head, Jaime refuses such a notion before lifting the glass to wet her lips once more, licking the bitter liquor that sits upon the soft flesh of her bottom kisser as she retorts. “My family was a fuckin’ mess” the Angelino native rephrases, continuing to shake her head whilst she formats her reply internally, allowed to do so by the enduring silence of the woman sitting beside her. “I should give them a little bit of credit, though. They weren’t always a mess, it only got bad after my father’s accident” Jaime corrects, eyes keeping to the corner whilst Velma remains quiet, looking at the side of the chancellor’s face whilst she speaks. “He’d been a great man up until that, but it was just like something up there... snapped” she recalls, pointing toward her head amidst her pause, “he became an abusive shithead and my mother just let him walk all over her because she couldn’t see him as anything less than who he’d used to be.” Her smile having faded, Velma looks toward the chancellor with only eyes of patience and curiosity, wishing to let the woman continue whilst beginning to sip from her drink once more. “Even after I bought the mansion, I couldn’t help myself but stay at home with them. I’d already closed the deal, so I didn’t see any sense in needing to flaunt the money even though I had it” Jaime remarks, always unamused by the prospect of opening her wallet for the purpose of a reaction. “I was the only reason that man was able to keep the house since he couldn’t work. Of all the people that were safe to be in that house, it was me” she gloats, again lifting her glass for a sip as Velma watches on, not wanting to interrupt as her lips remain pressed together. “Yeah, I may have had the money, but shit never really was easy for me. In fact, I wish there were things that I didn’t have in hindsight” Jaime concludes, sorrowfully staring into her glass as she pauses, speaking beneath her breath with a disheartened expression, “starting with being chancellor.” “I’m sorry, you wish you weren’t their leader?” Velma questions back, unsure if she’d heard the woman’s point correctly as she’d hoped to, watching the former Angelino look back at her at the reiterated inquiry. “I can only hope that my family made it back to Pearl Harbor safely, but I have no guarantee of that. The rest of my people fled to god only knows where, but the republic was levelled” Jaime responds, shaking her head in dismay as she downs a few sips of her drink at once, “I can only hope someone could’ve come in and done a better job.” Suddenly lighting up with less discontent than it does amusement, Velma’s face takes toward the distance as her arms cross at her chest, the sound of her subdued laughter catching the room’s occupant by surprise. “What’s with the chuckle, Scarface?” Jaime queries, earning a louder laugh from the woman that she sarcastically asks, genuinely curious for an answer, but less hostile than her apparent insult would have some assume. “I just find it ironic that Leon takes such interest in you” the dark haired woman confesses, smiling with an upward curl in her lip, cradling the glass to the side of her interlocked arms. “The four of us- him, Sidney, Jackson, and myself- are so proud to be in charge here. We’re proud to be who the people trust and to keep this place going. None of us would want it any other way...” Velma concludes, turning to look at the woman by her side, “...and then, here you are... Wishing for anything but that.” Letting her eyes glide to the side that the rest of her head drifts toward, Jaime nods in agreement with the woman’s conclusion before again taking a drink, still yet to make it halfway through her selfish pour. “It’s a blessing and a curse at times” she concedes, allowing the true weight of the responsibility present itself from the perspective of a woman who’s seen it’s highest and lowest points, “you can be the reason people see a point in living, or the evidence that they need to conclude that there isn’t one.” Falling, Velma’s eyes take toward the floor as she rocks forward and back gently, stirring with the woman’s conclusion before letting her arms pull away from the embrace of each other, her dominant hand lifting the glass to her lips to finish off what’s left of the beverage she’d poured. “Leon’s going to publicly explain why he went over to Free Boston after the sun goes down. Everyone will be in the parking lot across from the stadium, right down the street in that direction” the visitor explains, pointing her finger in the direction, “I hope you’ll find the time to make it there.” Retreating for the way she’d come, Velma’s footsteps tap against the linoleum floor of the kitchen before finding the soft, subduing fabric of the carpet that the rest of the temporary residence ground is covered with. Without replying, Jaime watches the woman’s figure traipse beyond the wall and vanish from her view, only exiting with the sound of the door opening back up and closing once more, returning the chancellor to the silence of a company-less room without a drinking buddy to enjoy the rest of her drink alongside. | “Yeah” Leon calls out, answering the knock at his suite’s door as the sun begins to set over Boston, granting permission for his friend to enter as politely as he’d requested to. “Do you know what you’re going to say yet?” Jay inquires, briefly pressing his palm against the window in the middle of the room’s door whilst pulling it closed, only to pull the hand away and shake it through the air at the cold surface that’s just too much for his warm paw to bear. “I’m going to wing it as I always do” Leon answers, wasting little time in responding as he takes the base of an iron over the wrinkles in a white dress shirt, making the piece of formal wear appear presentable in ways his typical garb just doesn’t fit the bill of. “People have more questions than I have answers, so I’m not going to waste time trying to come up with filler” the president continues whilst his friend nods, “they’ll ask their questions, I’ll answer them honestly, and we’ll all be in bed before an hour past sunset hits.” “It sounds like you’ve got this all figured out then” Jay replies, watching the back of the leader’s head as it nods approvingly, the figurehead’s eyes continuing to take toward the clothing that he soon irons out to satisfaction. “Yes, I do...” Leon assures, setting the tool to the side as he pulls its plug from the same outlet that his kettle’s base would normally be hosted by, turning back toward the man whose presence is currently unexplained, “...so why are you here?” “I think you know why I’m here” Jay responds without pause, watching the man with a darker complexion hang his head and begin walking toward the makeshift kitchen. “Sid” Leon replies instinctively, following the distinctive pattern of his suite’s floor as he ventures beyond the king sized bed halfway between the renovated bar space and the window of his room overlooking the one-time playing surface. “We all love her, but she keeps putting us in bad situations” Jay remarks, watching the president travel to the kitchen area whilst he continues to speak. “I can keep Velly at bay, but I can’t argue that she doesn’t have a reason to be outraged over shit like this” the visitor continues, allowed to air his grievances freely whilst the suite’s tenant tends to the small amount of dishes awaiting a rinse in his tiny, metal sink. “This is the second time we’ve had to address the people publicly because of something she said. It would’ve been a third had Ruby not held that runner back to wait for us” the well-travelled level head explains, a recollection that Leon can’t help but nod along with. “It’s bad enough that she nearly let the boats that passed through the river slip, but it’s another thing to keep causing a stir” Jay concludes, feeling like his point has been made as well as it can be. “In all honesty, I don’t think you need to explain your reasoning to me as much as you think you do” Leon quips, speaking up only when he can sense that his visitor has exhausted his initial point of visiting. “And with all due respect, Leon, I think you underestimate just how much I do need to” Jay retorts, watching the president’s eyes gradually slide toward his direction at the rebuttal, silence provided toward the proclamation his subordinate makes. “If we don’t start actively considering keeping a few things from Sid- only the stuff that we need to ensure remains confidential- we’re just going to continue leaving ourselves vulnerable to stuff like this” the trusted confidant warns, “as much as I guarantee that you see where I’m coming from, I know you’re not going to do anything to change it.” “You’re right, I’m not going to change anything. I’m not entertaining the idea of icing Sid out from anything... highly confidential or not” Leon responds, seeing the man’s head begin to bow in light of his comment. “If Sid lets something slip, so be it. We’ll take it on the chin and clear the air with everyone as we always do” the president concludes, coming to the same solution that he always has, “I don’t care if she has a harder time keeping things under wraps. I’m as loyal to her as I am to the rest of you.” “Have you ever stopped to consider that icing her out of some things may be as much in her best interest as it is for the rest of us?” Jay questions back, challenging the man’s thought and receiving a silent nod of assurance in return. “I’ve got no reason to hide anything from the people, and I’m definitely not going to start taking on that mindset now” Leon restates, seeing disappointment continue to fall upon his visitor’s face, “Sid’s weakness is not going to change me anymore than being put in charge of things around here did.” Though his eyes still hold toward the odd pattern of the suite’s floor, Jay’s hands lift into the air in a show of surrender, gesturing to the man that he offers a concession to the man’s superiority. “Listen, Jay. I’m sorry that I won’t do what you want. But I understand where you’re coming from and I sympathise with you, I really do” Leon reiterates, watching the man’s face gradually lift to face him, affording the president a respect that he’d expect for himself all the same, “you know that, right?” Pulling in a deep breath before letting it leave through his mouth’s loud sigh, accepting the terms that the president’s come to without yet vocalising it. “The unfortunate thing about it is that I do, Leon. I know you understand where we’re coming from, and I know you sympathise with it...” Jay confesses, letting his hands fall as he shrugs, turning back for the suite’s entrance with his reassuring answer, “...the thing that I hate is that the result wouldn’t change even if you didn’t.” Leaning to one side, Leon’s eyes follows suit with the bottom of his jaw in hanging, taking displeasure in the manner which his friend leaves the room, walking off into the renewing night whilst he stands behind the kitchen, turning off the running faucet as the hot water continuing running down the drain. Going quiet, the air runs as cold as the steam that rises from the metal bowl he stands at does hot, both as silent and unresponsive as each other whilst the president embraces both, his thoughts falling away as he turns his attention toward preparing for the public address. == Athens of America == “Oh look, you brought a friend!” a man in his mid-50’s comments, standing out of a chair behind an oakwood desk, his common swivel chair sliding out as he watches a pair of people draw closer to his office’s door through the massive window that one of the walls is made from. “She’s tougher than she looks. I needed backup on that race track you call a main road” Leon retorts as he enters the room, seeing the head of the Free Boston president nod as their hands lock together.
“I was surprised to hear you ask for a meeting with me on such short notice, Leon” the older man remarks, ending his handshake with the Athens figurehead before sharing the same gesture of respect with the unnamed blonde accompanying him, “I was even more surprised that you agreed to do it on this side of the border” “I can’t really afford to be picky when there isn’t much time to spare” Leon concedes, staring toward the massive, transparent wall their journey had briefly travelled across to the side of the room, a squint of confusion taken toward it. “Is the sky about to fall? What’s with the doom and gloom talk?” the Free Boston figurehead questions aloud, letting his hand fall from Jaime’s before the subject of the inquiry shakes his head. “It’s not about to literally fall, but I wouldn’t be shocked if you thought it was” Leon answers, tucking his hands into his pockets as he looks toward the man, “it sounds like you’re really starting to slip behind, isn’t it?” Shaking his head as he pulls in a deep breath, the casually-dressed, middle-aged white man with a short head of brown hair sighs as he turns away, venturing back toward his desk as he addresses the question. “There’s still a decent amount of time between now and the election, Leon. You know that. We’ve made it a point to keep Athens as updated about our goings on as the Free Side is” the presidential contemporary responds, reclaiming the top of his seat into his palm. “It doesn’t take a lot to convince the public that you’re on their side, but it takes a mountain of proof to prove you really are when it suddenly starts seeming like you’re not” he concludes. “And if you had something strong enough to make the public question either of them, you would’ve used it by now” Leon responds, stepping ahead of his west coast-originating friend as he approaches the other leader’s desk. “I’ve got just as much at stake in this election as you do. If your run goes down, it’ll be replaced with people a lot less willing to play nice” the Athens president continues, seeing a lack of major change in the visage worn by his fellow post-societal leader. “I’m aware of that, Leon. But if you think that the point of wanting re-election on my part is for you, you’re sorely mistaken” the opposite man remarks, reminding the man that stands opposite his workspace of the sides they align with. “I know that, Ken. But as far as I’m concerned, I think you should go without forgetting that I want you to be re-elected just as much as you do” Leon reiterates, watching the gentleman that he visits lower himself back into his seat. “You don’t want me to get re-elected, you just want to keep from dealing with one option that wants to go back on our treaty and one that wants to outright invade you” Ken corrects, a conclusion that changes nothing about the discourse unfolding before him. “As far as this election cycle in concerned, they’re the same thing” Leon doubles down, a conclusion drawn that brings a grin over the Free Boston president’s face. “So what is this meeting about, Leon? I highly doubt you travelled all this way just to give me a pep talk” Ken responds, shrugging his shoulders as the man before him pulls both hands from the workspace, standing upright once more, “I wasn’t born yesterday. You’ve got something for me, now what is it?” Yet to answer with his words, Leon instead turns his body toward the blonde woman still standing a few feet behind him, his face looking at her at the same time that his contemporary’s does. Not sure what’s happening, Ken looks at the blonde woman for a moment before turning back toward his national coeval, sitting in silence for another few seconds before looking in the blonde’s direction once more, still unable to tell what he’s meant to be seeing upon a second glance. “Who am I supposed to be looking at, Leon?” Ken inquires, again shifting his focus toward the president of the commune next door without a clue toward the answer, “who is this?” Lifting his eyebrows, Leon presses the tip of his finger onto the desk’s surface with the intention of speaking, only to find himself having taken too long to do so. “If you have a question about me, I’d strongly advise that you start asking me directly from now on” Jaime interjects, answering the Free Boston liberator to an immediate grin from the man that she’d accompanied to the neighbouring territory. “I’m glad that I know her just well enough to have expected that” Leon admits to himself beneath his breath, taking a seat atop the presidential workspace with hands folded in his lap, turning his visage toward the woman just as Ken does. “Alright, ma’am- whoever you are- please introduce yourself” the president concedes, extending a hand toward the open plot of floorspace standing between himself and the woman who currently exists as nothing but a stranger to him. Shrugging with a pouty lower lip, Jaime takes three steps forward with hands held slightly outward at either side, letting them fall with a dull slap as she makes it to the place in which she’d been welcomed to occupy. “My name is Jaime Morris-Cutler, I’m from Los Angeles, and I just got here” the woman greets, hands continuing to hang by either side as she switches the focus of her stare, directing it toward the man who’d led her here, “I don’t really know why I’m here, but I’m pretty sure I know what this is about.” Remaining paused, Ken allows the woman to speak with such focus on not interrupting that it takes him a few seconds beyond her conclusion to react. Eyes drifting toward the man sitting only a few inches ahead of him, the Free Boston patriarch looks from one side of the room to the other with a loss for words, completely lost in the translation of this meeting. “Am I supposed to be playing a game of charades here? What is going on?” Ken inquires, extending a hand toward Jaime and addressing her before looking toward the Athens creator when appropriate, “with no offence intended toward you, Mrs. Morris-Cutler... Why is she here, Leon?” “Because she isn’t just from Los Angeles, she was the leader of a community that had settled there after the tragedy and up until a few short weeks ago” Leon answers with a grin, his charming facade taking shape as he presents interest in his own comments, “and she told me something that might just help you make up ground on Dean and Sparks.” With little change in his expression, the publicly-disapproved president settles into his seat and again looks toward the woman that stands in the centre of his room, inspecting her mostly-unphased demeanour before glancing back toward his contemporary. “Alright, then. Let’s get on with it” Ken replies, opening himself up to the avenue that it would make little sense to not at least inspect now that it’s been brought up, his arms laying flat against the sides of his chair, “I’m listening.” = Athens of America is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onwards = “Velly! Velly!” Sidney proclaims in a somewhat composed tone, hurrying onto the level above Leon’s suite-installed flat to find the girl she’s in search for looking out over the walls of the ballpark. “What? I’m right here! What?” Velma asks back, turning around with an arm resting against the railing overlooking Landsdowne Street, seeing the girl approach with hands clenched into fists out of worry. “You alright, Sid?” Jay questions from a nearby table, surprising the visitor that hadn’t noticed him at first, her eyes widening with surprise before her mind takes back to the point of her drop-in. “I may have made a little bit of a mistake” Sidney responds, visibly distressed in ways that bring a slight concern over the woman who’d been asked for at first immediately. “Shit, Sid. How bad did you fuck up?” Velma inquires, stepping away from the bannister to approach the woman that now stands only a few feet ahead of their third party’s table. “Not that badly. I just might’ve jumped the gun on something we’ll have had to explain sooner or later” Sidney responds, watching an eyebrow lift over the darker-haired woman’s scarred left eye. “If it’s not that bad of a fuck up, then you probably shouldn’t walk up here like you just sent a nuke toward France next time” Velma responds, crossing her arms as her posture eases, her concern beginning to lower as she prepares for the news. “In what way did you jump the gun, Sid?” she inquires, coming to a stop only a short few inches away from the anxious messenger whilst Jay crosses both arms over the tabletop and leans in. “Well, Ruby at the messenger office asked me about the trip to California while I was collecting the order sheets” Sidney begins, already seeing a slight frown take shape on Velma’s face as the woman shakes her head. “Word travels way too fucking fast even now” the curious, heavy coat-wearing, black-haired woman quips, glancing toward Jay as he nods in agreement, as displeased with it as she is. “Well, word travels a lot faster than just that” Sidney corrects, receiving a squint from the woman standing directly opposite her, “she said that people had started talking about how we’d found a camp out there and that- through some way or another- a bomb had blown it up.” Letting out a long sigh, Velma hangs her head and turns away, tucking each top half of her fingers into the pockets on her heavy-set winter wear as the breath fogs the air. “Who the fuck started running their mouths about it!?” Velma asks aloud, neither yelling, nor whispering, but speaking in a tone louder than the ones the rest of the balcony had reached to this point. “Velly, we’ve got a handful of people manning the computers and radios while we’re away” Jay responds, seeing the irritation that the straight-faced woman takes from this discourse before trying to offer a level head toward it, “not that it matters, but it could’ve been any of them.” “I thought telling them to keep their lips tight about all of this was something they would’ve understood, Jackson” Velma responds, turning back to address the man directly, “pardon me for giving them more credit than it seems they deserved.” Letting his head fall toward his shoulder, Jay shakes his head and looks back toward the woman only a few steps ahead of his seat, “did she really just call me by my full first name?” “Do you want me to call you Jackson Marshall? Full first and last name?” Velma queries back, looking at him as her arms free themselves momentarily, only to cross over her chest a second later, “would that make you feel better, muffin?” Amused, Jay laughs to himself for a moment before shrugging as he pulls back in his chair, watching the woman’s stoic and displeased visage begin to slowly melt away into something more openly warm. “It does when you flirt with me as openly as that” Jay jokes, watching the scar-wearing lady of professionalism look away to hide her grin, shaking her head whilst the third party in the conversation returns it to the point of her visit. “There were two women with her at the counter when she asked that, but I didn’t know we’d told anyone about any of it” Sidney remarks, regaining the pair’s attention as she attempts to continue, only for a correction to be offered ahead. “We didn’t tell anyone about the trip or the bomb” Velma responds, retreating for the bannister she’d only recently removed herself from, looking out at the road below only when not addressing the woman. “Well the bottom line is that you did an incredibly poor job at keeping people from finding out about that, but I may have used the wrong kind of language when I corrected Ruby” Sidney concludes, her comment being scoffed at for a moment before it’s done being offered. “Why would you correct Ruby?” Velma asks, still looking out at the street with a curious squint before her eyelids begin sliding apart, lessening the tension held within them as her eyebrows lift whilst her head slowly turns back. “Because I was hoping she’d be able to correct people while she does the rounds the same way I figured word had gotten out initially!” Sidney responds, looking at the ground as she formats a response, “I didn’t want anyone to-” “Hold on, what do you mean by ‘I may have used the wrong kind of language?’” Velma queries, again turning back toward the woman and retreating from the view she holds of the streets below, their clean, asphalt surface falling out of interest from the woman. Asked the question without the ability to answer, Sidney freezes up and lets her mouth hang open, momentarily bringing it back without touching it to the rest of her face as the words continue to evade her. “Velly, take it easy” Jay calmly remarks, remaining seated as the once-more concerned advancer moves toward the lighter-haired woman. “No, I want her to tell me what I’m not hearing, Jackson” Velma responds, writing off the man’s warning as she continues strolling toward the spot ahead of her friend, having left it less than a minute prior, “what did you mean by that, Sid?” “Well, Ruby thought it was bad that so many people died when the bomb exploded, and-” Sidney begins to answer, only for the gentle sway of Velma’s hands in front of her face to gesture for her not to speak any further. “Sid, tell me specifically what you said” the obstinate inquisitor reiterates, not wanting to hear anything other than the answer to her original question, “word-for-word, verbatim.” Closing her eyes as she presses her lips together, the woman with the question laying in her field to take a swing at composes herself before begrudgingly confessing to exactly what her wrong-doing was. “I might have mistakenly mentioned that there was a bomb that was dropped instead of one that just simply went off” Sidney concedes, watching the hardass’ lower lip drop slightly as she stands without much change in her demeanour, not out of a lack of being phased, but out of a struggle to process what’s she’s told. “And you did this in front of other people?” Velma questions back, jutting her chin forward slightly before instantly hanging her head and turning away once she sees the girl’s head begin slowly nodding. “Jay!” the dark-haired woman calls out, gesturing for the man that had sat by and spectated the conversation to take action, his legs having already begun carrying himself out of the seat. “I’ll get on the phone with the people next door!” Jay instantly replies, beginning a hurry toward the makeshift stairs that their third wheel had used to drop into the peaceful morning they’d been having prior to the news. “What!? Why!?” Sidney questions aloud, watching the man take toward the terrace’s entrance before immediately earning her response from the woman only a short distance away. “Because Leon and California girl are in Free Boston right now meeting with Spence!” Velma shouts back, snapping around with an angered howl as Jay wraps his hand around the railing toward the next-lowest level, only to pause at the sound of yelling. “They didn’t make any secret about going over there, so I’m sure there isn’t any shortage of people that saw them cross!” the obstinate professional continues, “so now we’ve got to do damage control for-!” “Velly, calm the fuck down or walk the hell away!” Jay yells back, interrupting the woman as he steps between her and the self-disappointed friend that his back is turned toward, addressing the lady that chooses not to keep her voice to a minimum. Immediately pressing her teeth together, Velma grunts as she spins back, kept from continuing to escalate the situation any further than it already stands at. “Why are they over the river?” Sidney wonders aloud, prompting the man she’d travelled out west with to turn back and explain the situation as simply as he can make it. “Jaime knows something that Leon thinks can help keep those other guys from winning their election. They went off and did it without telling the rest of the camp why” Jay responds, gently patting her on the shoulder as he passes her by. “Letting word get out that someone dropped a bomb on the camp in Los Angeles while simultaneously sending our president across the neutral zone is a bad look that we’re gonna have to explain now” Velma responds calmly and with great disappointment, shaking her head with disappointment as she steps forward, walking past the visitor in favour of getting ahead of the issue, “don’t try to correct people next time around, alright Sid?” | “Yeah, go ahead and help yourself” Ken quips, sounding as if he’d just been told that his dog has passed away, only for the unbothered attitude of his guest to meet his ear. “No problem. I’m thirsty” Jaime responds, pouring herself a glass of bourbon at the man’s liquor counter before returning to the centre of the room, keeping herself from the conversation that now unfolds between the pair across from her. “Go ahead and sit with it for as long as I would’ve if it weren’t for thinking to come tell you” Leon responds, watching the man of equal position to him look away from the desk and back toward him. “Go ahead and sit with what?” Ken queries, his brows lifting and head lowering at the same time, eyes holding upon the confused expression that the Athens president looks to him with. “With what she just told you” Leon responds, adjusting his seat upon the man’s desk just slightly to better face his contemporary, “the government attacked American civilians and plunged the country into disrepair. Sit with that.” Pressing his lips together, Ken’s eyes drift to the side of the room as he lets free a seemingly unshaken sigh, back pressing further into his seat as his chest goes without feeling weight of any importance. “What does it matter, Leon?” he wonders aloud, the question that’s immediately raised bringing great surprise to the president’s visitor, “so there’s a little bit of the government left. That’s nothing most of us hadn’t already speculated about.” Lifting a hand toward the side of his face, the Athens president climbs off of the worktop and returns to pressing his hands into the edge of its surface. “What the hell do you mean by that, Ken? We’re all in this mess because the people that we elected to lead us instead tried to kill us” Leon retorts, continuing to see a lack of shifting in the president’s face take shape. “And after they fucked it all up beyond repair, they stiff-armed the people that rebuilt after their mess out of their homes and dropped a bomb on it!” he furthers, watching the Free Boston leader’s eyes take toward the woman that stands behind him. “I don’t doubt your story, Mrs. Morris-Cutler. I have no reason to believe it professionally either, but that doesn’t really matter here anyway” Ken restates, lifting a hand toward her as he addresses the bourbon-sipping chancellor, “I’m sorry to hear that such a thing happened and wish you all the best.” Giving his highest regards to the third wheel, the Free Boston founder returns his attention to the neighbouring nation’s shot-caller, continuing to see awe written upon his visage like ink markings from a quill upon an old, yellow slice of paper. “What happened to us doesn’t make any difference now, Leon! What’s done is done, what’s happened has happened, and what’s standing is still here” Ken addresses, letting his arms rest peacefully at either side of the seat. “If they started trying to reconquer the American homeland starting with her compound out-” Leon begins countering, only for the voice behind him to interject. “Republic” Jaime comments, prompting Athens’ leader to look over his shoulder at the woman that crosses her free hand into the elbow of the other, “my Angelino Republic was a republic. Not a compound... a republic.” With parted lips, Leon stares at the woman for another few seconds without uttering a word, letting the correction fall without a reply before his eyes re-centre themselves upon the president. “How much longer do you think it’ll be before-?” Athens’ speaker begins to question, only to again be kept from continuing his original line of thought. “Correct yourself” Jaime interrupts, again prompting the man to turn back and face her, his lips parted but not a comment to be offered in response for the seconds that it takes the whiskey-indulger to continue speaking. “I accept that you’re the leader around here and that you call the shots, but I don’t accept you speaking ill of my republic” she furthers, only to be quickly offered a retort from ahead. “Are you really trying to pick a hill to die on confronting me over when we’ve got bigger issues at hand?” Leon inquires, turning away from the man he’d requested a meeting with to address the woman he’d brought alongside him. “Too many people died defending it and too many people that I loved were lost trying to protect it for anyone to recognise it as anything other than what it is...” Jaime retaliates, approaching the man until the distance between them is shorter than a box of match sticks, “...so correct yourself in the name of those people that were lost to make you go back on your words.” Letting out a slow breath through his nose as his lips press together, Leon’s hands take toward his hips whilst the Free Boston president watches on, having no dog in the fight but quietly appreciating the stubbornness that Athens’ newest arrival appears to sport. Unwavering in her demand, Jaime stands before the eyes of the leader of the camp that she seemingly wishes to call home for as long as possible, taking a sip from her glass as she waits for the man to speak. “It was a republic” Leon replies with the gentle sway of his head, watching the woman’s head bow only an inch in a manner similar to when one curtsies. “Thank you” Jaime responds, watching the man give her only one nod as she puts on a half-smirk, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Rolling his eyes, Leon turns away from the woman as her smile grows wider, returning to the conversation his attention had been stolen from, “as I was asking... How much longer do you think it’ll be before they cut across the country and do the same, or at least try to do the same to us?” Frowning, Ken shakes his head whilst his eyes squint, the man’s defeated posture accompanying the hands that he presses against either side of his seat. “At this rate, that will be a problem from whomever my successor is to deal with” he confesses, acknowledging the deep hole that his political campaign has fallen into like a ditch that a mangled vehicle plummets within the reach of at the end of an already-brutal crash. “Look, even if I did tell the public that we’d done some sort of investigation into what happened- the stuff your friend here is telling me- that won’t change a thing” Ken doubles down, reading the room a lot differently than his political acquaintance, “to your people, it may be a call to arms. For my people, however? They’d be viewed as figures to thank for making all of this happen.” “I know you didn’t intend for this to be as anarcho-capitalist as Free Boston’s become, but that doesn’t change the fact that you meant well” Leon responds, continuing to try and offer a branch of hope for his national adversary to reach out for, “there are people suffering. They may blame you, but they’re still looking for something to rally around.” “That’s why they’ve chosen to take to Dean instead, Leon” the Free Boston president concedes, finding it impossible to face the music that his polling has made evident. “I may have kicked this all off, but I couldn’t keep it contained. The people suffering on the streets are only suffering because I couldn’t protect them” Ken admits, holding his hand toward the see-through wall of his office, gesturing toward the larger window beyond it that offers a surveying glimpse of the northeastern metropolitan. “No, but there’s a chance you could promise them that you’ll overhaul the system in a second term to ensure that this place doesn’t run as recklessly as it does now” Leon reiterates, earning little more than a dismissive shake of the other president’s head. “Telling the public that there’s a chance that the same group that put them in this mess to begin with- the ones that really sentenced them to this hell- are coming back for round two?” the Athens protector ponders, “they might just rally around the leader.” “Have you seen any of Dean’s rallies? I mean, Sparks’ rallies are intense too, but Dean’s?” Ken queries, shaking his head with a frown as he sinks even further into his seat, “that’s the stuff the perceived-leaders are made out of. This place doesn’t see me as the leader they need.” “But he’s not fit to defend this place against something like that group that Jaime went against” Leon corrects, continuing to see a lack of change in the face that gracefully shakes in refusal back to him. “Leon, let’s go. He’s clearly not being persuaded by anything you’re saying” Jaime interjects, watching the Athens leader’s face turn back toward her at her interruption, hearing it and taking such a conclusion into consideration. For a few seconds, Leon looks back with his mouth open before suddenly closing it, returning his lips to each other before sliding his line of sight toward the man opposite him. Scowling, the Athens shot-caller hangs his head with disappointment before pushing himself off the desk’s surface and stepping back. “With how little you’re interested in any of this, maybe the people here are right...” he concedes, disgusted with what he sees as he walks for the exit, “...you’re not the leader they need.” Violently shoving the office’s door outward, Leon steps into the hallway and immediately makes for the end of the hall, allowed to do so by Jaime as she continues to stand in the room’s centre. Letting out a sigh, the exiled chancellor kicks back the rest of her drink before wiping her bottom lip and planting the bourbon glass a short distance away from Ken’s hand. “Thanks for the drink” she comments before turning away, looking to follow the lead of the man that takes most of the security detail alongside him. “You’re impressive, Mrs. Morris-Cutler” Ken remarks, watching the woman walk away before stopping at the door to the sound of his compliment, “I’m sure your husband is very proud of your unwavering strength.” Unmoved for a moment, Jaime’s head begins to lean back as she looks the Free Boston president in the eyes, her hand pressing gently into the office’s door. “Thanks...” she replies, stepping forward to gracefully let the room’s entrance drift outward alongside her, “...I wish he were still here to see it.” Frowning the moment the woman’s comments leave her lips, Ken’s face remains with sitting with the rest of his body, moving with the rest of his head as he watches the woman’s figure venture in the direction that Leon’s feet had carried him toward, sitting with the thoughts that the pair had left him to whilst the office goes quiet. == Athens of America == Fluttering as they open with the apparent need to shield themselves from the morning sunlight that pierces through her window, Jaime’s eyes hold themselves upon the ceiling as her hands slide out from beneath the soft covers. Groaning as she stretches her hands as far above her head as the joints in her shoulders will allow, the rested blonde remains staring upright at the ceiling, trying to keep her eyes open as far as they can manage in order to prevent them closing again.
“Did you sleep well?” a voice asks from across the room, startling the woman that immediately shifts her body in the opposite direction, her face looking toward the man that asks with exhaustion replaced by surprise. “What the fuck are you doing!?” Jaime questions aloud, covering her chest with the comforter despite already wearing a plain, white t-shirt as her unexpected visitor hangs his head and chuckles. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up for about an hour and a half now” Leon confesses, his hands wrapping around the edge of his plastic chair between both legs, resting their feet upon the metal support built into the seat’s legs. “I’m surprised that you slept in so late” he adds on, not having entered the room wit the intention of waiting around for as long as he had, “I know you had a long ride back from the west coast, but I still figured you’d have a harder time sleeping on night one than you did.” “I spent the last year and some change living in exile. I got used to sleeping wherever there was an open space” Jaime replies, removing the heavy blanket from over her as she crawls off the box set-less air mattress. Nodding, Leon averts his eyes as best as he can whilst the woman traipses across the spacious hotel room, wearing only her colourless top and a pair of short, hot pink shorts. “I’ll take it that you at least slept well?” Leon inquires, continuing to look at the ground before seconds pass without a reply, prompting him to look back toward the half-nude woman as she turns halfway toward him with a lone eyebrow raised. “I traded out the backseat of a truck for an actual bed” Jaime responds, turning back toward the direction she’d been strolling toward whilst finishing her statement, “I’m not even sure people in the NDF sleep as well as I did most nights.” Hearing her footsteps round the corner in favour of the adjacent bathroom, Leon takes his sights away from the floor as he leans back in his chair, only waiting now for the woman to run through her morning routine. “What do those letters stand for anyway?” he wonders from afar, hearing the faucet start spouting water as the new arrival wets the end of her toothbrush, preparing it for the paste that she squeezes onto the bristles. “The New Democratic Front” Jaime answers, doing so without issue as she prepares to attend toward the well being of her teeth, “they’re hold-overs from the old federal government.” Nodding to himself, Leon squints his eyes whilst staring out the nearby window, looking beyond his borders and toward the modest and comparatively-tiny Free Boston skyline. Though faint, the man overhears the distant sound of the girl’s brush scraping against her teeth whilst he continues to admire the natural view he’d been afforded the chance to continue living to see. “Typically, we run most people through the process of starting to assimilate into our society. Signing documents, getting identity cards made, that stuff” Leon remarks, watching the west coast-native emerge from behind the doorway that she takes to leaning against, looking at the man whilst he speaks and she maintains her hygiene. “I promised Velly and some others that I would get your papers signed and everything, but that I wanted to change up getting you really situated like we normally would” he concludes, watching the woman pull the brush from her mouth for only a brief moment. “Why?” she asks, keeping the question simple as she returns the bristles to her teeth. “Because you’ve seen parts of this world that I haven’t yet. And in some cases, I hope I’ll never have to” Leon answers, wasting little time in offering his explanation to the set of open ears. “I think it would come in handy to get to know you a little bit more and answer some questions that you may not have gotten a good enough chance to ask yesterday” the figurehead comments, dressed in all black wear just as he had the day prior, only switching out his sweats and long sleeve shirt for a black trenchcoat and a pair of grey slacks. “This isn’t a way for you to flirt with me, is it?” Jaime proceeds to inquire, again slipping the brush out from her mouth as it fills with the toothpaste’s foam. “I’m sorry?” Leon questions back, puzzled by the inquiry and how she’d come away from his comments assuming such. “Last night, you said you don’t normally put new people into a room as nice as this one when they show up. And today, you’re changing the integration system you’ve set up just for me” Jaime explains, crossing her free hand over the arm that remains wielding the brush, “what makes me special?” “The fact that you’ve been in my position before?” Leon replies with a tone as if he were asking a question rather than answering one, not seeing the sense in the conclusion that the woman draws. “I didn’t run a communist commune with an anarcho nuthouse next door on the east coast; I ran a federal capitalist republic with a nuclear-capable lunatic across the pacific on the west coast” Jaime corrects, shaking her head with doubt, “we’re not as similar as you think we are.” “You won people over enough to earn their trust, and then you held the responsibility of keeping them safe” Leon corrects, setting their differences aside in the basic similarities, “from what I understand, you did that until the wrong people came knocking at your door.” “Listen, buddy... Let’s get one thing straight. I didn’t earn their trust, I was just used as the face that rebels banded behind because I was a semi-celebrity before the catalyst” Jaime responds, shaking her head as she begins turning back for the bathroom, “and I clearly failed in that responsibility since I faced multiple rebellion groups myself.” “Hold on... the what?” Leon questions back, his bewildered stare catching the eye of the woman that turns back just as she’d attempted to step away, “you were a semi-celebrity before what?” Pausing for a moment, Jaime lifts a finger toward the man as she dips back into the bathroom, spitting the paste into the sink’s ceramic bowl. “The Catalyst. Y’know, the thing that happened when the water went bad all of a sudden?” Jaime rebuttals, speaking from within the bathroom as she rinses her brush and returns to the doorway, “why, what do you guys call it?” “We just call it the tragedy” Leon responds, squinting deeper at the woman as he fixates on her comments, reading into them for the information that hides within what’s left unsaid like fine print in a contract. Without replying, Jaime looks at the man’s face for a second before the muscles within her visage ease, her head pulling back as she comes to a revelation she’d yet to connect the dots of. “Wait, had you guys up here ever figured out what happened?” she wonders aloud, watching the man’s chin dip lower as his head shakes in refusal, the answer not necessary to be vocalised. Immediately falling, the woman’s eyes take toward the ground before the man’s voice carries onward, searching for information that appears to be hiding within plain sight, but appears to require a finer vision. “People started burning up like they were getting eaten from the inside. Then an alert went out telling us not to drink the water and everything stopped working. The internet, cell service, satellite service. You name it” Leon responds, watching the woman walk through the hotel room as if she were harbouring something incredibly harrowing and worth refusing to speak aloud. “Is there something you’re not telling me?” he questions, resetting his focus from recollection toward discovery as the woman journeys toward her near non-existent belongings, “what are you doing?” “I’m sorry, I...” Jaime responds, shaking her head from one side to the other before standing upright, turning toward the man with a dejected look on her face, “...I never really thought about whether or not other people found out what actually happened.” Pulling his head back, Leon looks at the woman with wild eyes as her face turns toward his own, being able to offer the question he wishes most to ask in so many ways that he can’t bring himself to pick one. “Before we took over Los Angeles, we ousted what was left of the local government. The mayor had died, so his lieutenant ended up taking over. He couldn’t keep the public contained” Jaime remarks, watching the man slowly lean closer toward the edge of his seat. “Before we ran him out, he told me a few things about what happened” she concludes, visibly disheartened at having to be the one that informs the man, who has admittedly provided her a wonderful welcome, “to say the least, the water going bad was never an accident.” Looking away, Leon’s eyes take toward the ground as the woman stands in silence, allowing him to digest the information that- whilst not fully explained- leave little to the imagination. Eventually guiding his line of sight toward the phenomenal view that lingers beyond the woman’s bed, Athens’ leader sets his attention back upon the skyline across the modest river, a sudden thought dawning upon him internally. “Go through your morning routine and meet me at the stadium” Leon calmly remarks as he steps off his chair, making for the door without having much more worth noting to offer, “we’ll take it from there. But first, I need to make some calls.” “Am I in trouble?” Jaime questions aloud, instinctually asking the question that prompts the man to stop in the now-open doorway, looking back toward her as he prepares to leave. “If you’re in trouble, then so am I” Leon responds, letting go of the door as it begins to shut behind him, “we’re going to Free Boston.” = Athens of America is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onwards = “Hello, Ruby!” Sidney remarks cheerfully, patting the top of the service counter that the professionally-dressed, glasses-wearing woman of equally-youthful age sits behind. “Do you bury your face in a bowl of sugar each morning?” the clerk questions aloud, visibly tired and worn down by the day that hasn’t even truly begun yet. “Nope! I make it through the day out of appreciation to still be alive!” the peppy brunette proclaims, drumming on the wooden desktop with a smirk as she shakes her shoulders, allowed to do so until Ruby begins softly swatting her hands. “It’s almost ten in the morning, Sid. No one is excited to be awake” Ruby remarks, putting a grin upon the woman’s face as she stands across from the worker, “you coming here to put in an order or is this a Leon thing?” “What is a Leon thing, Ruby?” Sidney questions back, resting both arms atop each other as she leans against the countertop, genuinely curious in her search for an answer. “Anything that Leon wants for the most part” Ruby responds, wasting little time in offering a direct answer that prompts the girl opposite her to scrunch her nose and wag her head from side to side. “You seem a little grumpy-grump today” the brunette remarks in a playfully low voice, finally earning a smirk from the labourer that goes anything but unnoticed, “there’s a smile! There it is!” Shaking her head as she gives into the woman’s enthusiasm, Ruby leans back in her seat and crosses her arms with a grin, “what do you want, you little bottlerocket?” “I’m just here to pick up the order sheets” Sidney responds, gently patting the countertop once more as the labourer climbs out of her seat, curling a finger toward herself to gesture the joyous sprite to follow her to the back. “How’d the trip go?” Ruby questions as they enter the mailroom, her hands immediately reaching for a box that sits atop a leatherbound notebook, placing it aside. “I wish it went better. We found the answers we were looking for, but it just didn’t go our way” Sidney replies, graciously accepting the notebook into her arms as she carries on the conversation. “I heard you found a camp that blew up. Is that rumour true?” Ruby inquires, watching the slightly disappointed hanging of the girl’s eyes provide an answer in lieu of any speech. “I think we all wish that weren’t true, but we can’t always get what we want I guess” Sidney confesses, watching the disappointed nod that she receives do the telling of what such news means overall. “I feel bad for those poor people then” Ruby responds, letting out a sigh as she shakes her head, “to survive what happened with the tragedy and make it so far? All for it to end like that.” “Wait, how did you find out about that?” Sidney soon questions, unsure of how the news would have travelled beyond her inner circle with how little time has passed since their return home. “Word started getting around that a fight broke out and a bomb ended up going off” Ruby responds, dragging her feet along the ground as the messenger follows her back toward the front desk, “everyone died and the place was destroyed from what I heard.” “Well, I mean... kinda” Sidney responds, rounding to the patron side of the service desk as a pair of women standby and wait for their opportunity to place an order. Returning the book to the clerk, the visitor allows Ruby to jot down a pair of extra orders on a sticky note that will inevitably end up in the notepad anyway whilst she speaks. “We’re pretty sure the place was destroyed, but it wasn’t because of a fight. And nobody died” the mailwoman corrects, watching as the clerk collects a pair of index cards from the customers that wait, handing over their list for her to include into the binder of notes. “How did a bomb go off without anybody dying?” Ruby queries, finding it to be suspicious that such devastation could be seen without fatality. “Because Jaime evacuated the city before the bombs fell” Sidney replies, answering the question as if it were any other, only for her friend’s puzzled visage to turn toward her. “I thought you only went with Jay? You had a third person with you?” Ruby inquires, immediately watching the clerk’s head shake whilst the patrons remain standing by. “No, Jaime was the person in charge of the community” the brunette awaiting her opportunity to depart responds, “she got everyone out before we took her back with-” “I’m sorry to interrupt, but did you say they fell?” the woman who’d been standing first in line asks, having handed off her order before overhearing the conversation that unfolded. “I’m sorry?” Sidney asks back, unsure of what she’s being asked about without context. “You said the city was evacuated before the bombs fell...” the second woman in line clarifies, regaining the messenger’s line of sight as her eyelids grow slightly further apart, “were the bombs dropped on the city out there?” “No! No! They...” Sidney responds, shaking her head with a nervous smile, trying her best to reiterate before the patrons fail to allow her the chance to. “Are there people dropping bombs on each other in the west!?” the original patron inquires, cutting the woman off before the brunette who’d spoken out of line continues to shake her head with the worried grin as her anxiety begins to build. “Everyone stop! Hand me your order card and then both of you get out!” Ruby proclaims, climbing out of her seat with a slightly-raised voice as she collects the second woman’s slip, waving toward the front door for them to leave before waiting through the silence as they walk out. “What just happened?” Sidney wonders aloud, still holding her hands out as the hush in the air becomes too great for her not to speak through. “Sid, listen. I’m going to tell you what I made out from the information you just told me and realise that those other two women just came up with the same conclusion” Ruby explains as she takes the girl by the shoulders, “if something I say is something that I’m not supposed to know, then you may have just said more than you should have, alright?” Nodding with great worry, Sidney looks the clerk in the eyes whilst the labourer takes a pause, pulling in a deep breath before speaking. “I’m of the belief that there’s a woman named Jaime- who you may or may not have brought back here- that was in charge of a city on the west coast” Ruby explains, already seeing the slight widening of the eyes in the woman at her hand’s reach, “and that city had proceeded to have bombs dropped on top of it without there being any actual fight or fatality.” “There weren’t multiple bombs, there was just-” Sidney attempts to correct, only for the woman that holds her by each side to immediately shake her head and disregard the explanation. “Sid, it doesn’t matter what actually happened, what matters is what I and those other women heard” Ruby recalls, seeing the same, stoic visage looking back to her as she corrects the conversation, “out of everything that I just said, is there any part of it that I was not supposed to know?” Unchanging, the plastered look of concern presents itself to the face of the brunette messenger that fails to pull her eyes away from the labourer’s own. “Oh no...” Sidney whimpers without tears, taking notice of the slip up that she’d made before fearfully looking back toward the building’s exit, knowing it’s already too late to tail the women down and address what had been said. | “Why are so many people watching us?” Jaime inquires, wearing the same heavy jacket that she’d picked up along the journey from one coast to the other, glancing at different faces joining together in the leaf-covered park that separates the two countries as they follow their trail. “Because it’s one of the presidents taking one of the five crossings to the other side” Leon answers, still dressed in his casually-presentable, dark clothing as he journeys the stretch of roadway, “that’s not a common occurrence.” Shrugging her shoulders, Jaime continues to venture alongside Athens’ leader, trying to avert her eyes from the speculative crowd before taking the man’s comment into consideration. “You call yourselves presidents?” she wonders aloud, watching the man’s amused face turn toward her and beam. “The United States had a president, and now Athens and Free Boston have presidents, too” Leon responds, watching the woman look back toward the border wall they journey toward as she shakes her head gingerly, “why? What title did they give you out west?” “Chancellor” Jaime answers, only turning to look at the man’s reaction once she’d given it, his intrigued squint being provided. “Like Hitler?” Leon questions aloud, earning a chuckle from the woman that again turns toward the fortress-like entrance only a few yards ahead. Offering no reply, the pair continue to journey forward with eyes on the uniformed soldiers standing atop the entrance to the separate nation. With little issue, the pair are granted entry to the domicile that appears behind the heavy, iron doors cutting Free Boston off from the neutral zone between themselves and their neighbouring faction. Just as any other, the buildings they find when they enter appear like the ones they leave behind in favour of addressing the leadership of their capitalist contemporaries, only their streets are lined with vehicles and homeless civilians sleeping beneath whatever artificial shelter they can scavenge. “Free Boston is a strange experiment that everyone here is sort of feeling out as they go” Leon explains, walking the streets whilst flanked with the armed detail that still answers to the central government. “They wanted to live somewhere with individual liberties and wanted a more capitalist approach, but we disagreed. We told them to start from scratch and make it themselves, so they did” he admits with hands reaching forward, “they welcomed whatever failure or success was to come, and for that reason- we get along.” “I thought you had to defend what you had from them?” Jaime challenges, looking toward the man she joins in a casual stroll through the streets. “We gave them what they wanted without demanding they fight for it. It’s allowed us to stay friendly enough with each other to endure each other’s existence opposite the river” Leon responds, pointing toward the side of a brick building, where a colourful poster is plastered upon the red backdrop. “Free Boston has elections every two years. If you have the power to run, you’re allowed to by the few laws that this place has” he explains whilst the new arrival to his community reads the scrawlings plastered upon the advertisement, “people constantly talk about the idea that there should be even fewer laws, but there are always enough people here to out-vote those few.” Splashed with purple and golden yellow streaks, the public display presents a young man with shaggy hair and a pouty lip staring toward the camera that had snapped his illustration. Beneath him, the name that he carries is written in bold letters just above a tagline of nearly-equal size, its stretch reaching from one side of the poster to the other. “Dean” the top line reads, the first name of “Blake” sitting just above it in far smaller letters than the rest of the poster, both crowning the tagline of “Light the Free Boston Sky on Fire.” Carrying a squint toward the advertisement, Jaime lets her concerns over it pass as the man she travels alongside continues to speak. “Some of the only rules on elections are that you can’t keep anyone from voting or else it’ll be illegitimate, you can’t form parties but you can form voting blocks, and you can’t stake claim to forming a government if you don’t win the election” Leon proceeds, holding his arms out at either side the further they walk, “other than that, it’s pretty much everyone for themselves.” “There are a lot of homeless people” Jaime quickly points out, taking interest in them as a car speeds from one end of the road they travel and down the opposite direction, kicking up dirt with no one to stop them. “If it weren’t for the agreements that Spence made, I’m sure the president would be out here too” Leon responds, checking around every corner they stroll past in preparation for a mugging, “the president gets only the essentials. A home, three meals a day, clean water, free aid at whatever health centre is closest, response from any firehouse and police station, and a private security made up of ten bodies from each servicer.” “I’m going to assume that Spence is the president here?” Jaime questions, inspecting each building that she passes the longer their journey continues. Tapping the once-chancellor on the shoulder, Leon points toward a towering building in the distance, its presence amidst the Free Boston skyline standing tall within their sights, only joined by a few other, less-impressive or more-distant skyscraper peaks. “That’s the old Prudential Tower. Once they took over everything south of Fenway Road, they claimed it as their version of the White House” the Athens president remarks, spotting out the tower that sits just a few dozen yards away from the only one in the city that reaches higher into the sky. “Ken Spence took over as president after he got elected. He was the person that fought me on wanting a place of their own and the people rewarded him” Leon recalls, “but he couldn’t control who owned what. People ended up losing out, monopolies formed, and now he takes the blame.” “So why are we going to him with this information?” Jaime inquires, looking toward the Athens leadership for clarification on the odd act, “why bother going to anyone here with this information to begin with?” “Because Ken’s a good man who just happened to be terrible at keeping his populace in check” Leon responds, tucking his hands into the pockets of his long coat at the sudden strike of the frigid, winter air. “If I tell him what happened, I’m hoping he’ll be able to win enough credit from the people by playing it off like he’d uncovered some truth” the Athens authoritarian explains, “maybe he’ll get enough good will gathered together to avoid getting slapped by the two guys looking to run him out of office.” “So what makes that dude I saw on the poster back there such a rotten apple to deal with?” Jaime questions back, intrigued by the idea that any figurehead in the utopia of free economic movement would be a better alternative to another. “Well, Wallace Sparks is interested in massive expansion. He wants to cut down on the presidential security clause and breach our agreement not to expand north of I-90” Leon answers, shaking his head with a curled lip, “that won’t go without ruffling some feathers.” “That’s not the guy that I saw on the poster” Jaime replies, earning a displeased grin from the man she journeys alongside, his head shaking without pleasure. “Blake Dean’s the real troublemaker here. He’s trying to use the homeless population to send the other two into a political coma” Leon responds, gritting his teeth with disgust at the man’s name, “he wants to strengthen the central government’s power and force the really wealthy to throw some of their wealth down to their level.” “If the emergency services are privately owned, what’s stopping the wealthier amongst these people from just putting a bullet in his mop hair-head?” Jaime questions back, amusing the man that begrudgingly shrugs with refusal. “The fact that he isn’t actually interested in any of that mixed with how he’s purchased protection from every single security agency here” Leon answers, scoffing as they come across another poster of the liar’s face, “he’s practically got more protection than the actual president did.” “I know you seem to want what’s best for the people in here, but why concern yourself so much with this Dean guy?” Jaime proceeds to wonder aloud, staring at the same poster whilst fixating on his impossibly unserious visage, “he looks like a tool and sounds like a tool, but I don’t see how he’s your problem.” “He’s our problem because one of the things he both campaigns on and actually wants is to legitimise their central military” the Athens leadership responds, drawing closer to the tower with each passing step. “Since they only have their monopolies as long as Free Boston is standing, all of the people that run the private militias voluntarily employ some of their soldiers to fight together as part of a force meant solely to fight for the country” Leon continues, “if someone like us were to invade, their collective force would keep us from ruining their fun.” “That still doesn’t answer my question, and it doesn’t even make any sense” Jaime responds, pressing opposition to the man’s claim, “if Dean wants to make the volunteer army seem legitimate, how does he plan on getting the people that fight for these other monopoly men- and not him- to act on his orders?” “Because he’s not getting them to act on his orders, he’s getting their employers to act on his orders” Leon corrects, looking toward the woman as they cross the street mostly-empty of actual vehicles. “He’s dangling fruit in front of their faces and telling them to order their men to act on his will so they won’t have to concern themselves with groups like us anymore” the Athens spokesman continues, making it to the road’s other end before looking toward Jaime, “they’ll all work together at his call if it means their investment in this partnership works out.” “What’s that fruit then?” Jaime questions back, nearly reaching the door before the Athens leader stops his advancement, turning to look at her before answering her question. “His plan is to have their armies invade Athens on his order and kick us out of power” Leon replies with little hesitation, his conclusion surprising the woman that journeys alongside him. “Getting rid of us means getting rid of the threat they’re wasting men on preparing for. Doing so on the president’s order means the people in charge of these agencies don’t have to be blamed by the public for starting a war they didn’t want and won’t have to worry about coups knocking them off their privatised pillars” he continues, looking the woman in the eyes before marching for the tower’s entrance, opening the door before looking back, “you coming or what?” Remaining behind momentarily, Jaime stares at the distance of the Free Boston commons area whilst taking the information into her mind, quickly attempting to clear it from her conscious as she steps forward with hopes of avoiding distraction. Following Leon, the Angelino founder ventures into the skyscraper with the flanking security force behind her, setting out on the same mission as the man that is as adamant about protecting his own community’s leadership as he is their potential aggressor’s. == Athens of America == Series Premiere
Jolting beneath his covers, a dark skinned gentleman with his hair tied back into blonde-highlighted braids pushes himself off the comfort of his cushion mattress and glances around the room at the sound of tapping. “Ahh shit” he groans, pressing the palm of his hand against his face as he lays beneath the covers, his mostly-nude figure allowed to keep its dignity as the woman responsible for the knocking at his door steps in. “Are you at least slightly decent?” a woman inquires, her pale face marked with a scar beneath her left eye whilst her dark hair falls over each shoulder. “I’m wearing underwear if that’s what you’re asking” the newly-awakened man responds in an unnaturally deep voice, his palms running down the length of his face as he tries to wipe the exhaustion from it. Without warning, the man is startled once more by the plastic bag that flies through the air and drops into his lap, giving him little chance to react accordingly. “It was dropped off for you an hour ago. I’m sure it’s been sitting outside your door ever since, so I’m not sure if anyone caught a peek of what’s in it other than me” the woman remarks, continuing to stand at the door with her arms hanging by each side, waiting for the man to do anything other than linger around in bed. “The man owed me a favour” the near-nude man responds, groaning as he turns in bed and removes the comforter from atop him, pressing his feet onto the cold, tiled floor, “it gets cold during the winter, Velma.” Rolling her eyes, the woman looks to her right and stares at the massive green wall just beyond the quarters that they share, watching the man remove a cosy sweater from within the wrinkled, plastic grocery bag. “Everyone in the park knows that it gets cold during the winter, Leon. I don’t want to hear that excuse” Velma responds beneath the coverage of a clearly-worn winter coat, “having a sweater made for you while everyone else freezes is at least a bad look if nothing else.” Taking his gift and setting it down at the bottom of his pillows, Leon climbs out of the bed with a sigh before traipsing over toward the kitchen, which clearly still appears like the minibar and simple food preparation platforms that it’d initially served the purpose as. “We’ve got most people crammed together- at least two per a unit- in everything from the apartments on Boylston, to the old senior centre a few blocks down the road, and even in makeshift sheds in the Guitar Center building across the street” Leon rebuttals, running the water in his sink before letting it pour into a kettle that he lifts onto a burner already plugged into the wall. “Meanwhile, I live here. I live in a suite in the old ballpark with no roommates, running water, working electricity, and a beautiful view of the Green Monster right outside my door” he continues, noticing the unamused expression of the woman across from him, her head taking a second glance toward the coloured wall over her shoulder, “of all the things that don’t make me look good, a sweater is the farthest thing from the worst of them.” “Can you put on some fuckin’ pants?” Velma inquires, changing the course of the conversation knowing the prior one would never have amounted to anything worthwhile. “I will after I’m done setting up my coffee” Leon responds, flicking on the kettle before reaching for a tin can in the corner of the countertop, earning a disgusted look from the woman across the room. “I’ll never understand how you can fuckin’ drink that shit” Velma responds, her nose scrunching as she looks away, amusing the man that gently lowers a spoon into the can’s contents as whilst she shakes her head, “it’s not true fuckin’ coffee.” Smirking, Leon scoops a lighter texture than typical coffee grounds from within and drops them into a french press, placing a lid on top of the container that he returns to its rightful home. “I’m not from here and Dunkin’s not coming back. If you like coffee, you’ll have to get with the times, Velly” Leon responds, watching the girl’s head continue to shake as he rounds the countertop, approaching the dresser set up in the corner of the room with a smirk. “We didn’t invest in planting so much chicory for nothing, you know?” he furthers, freeing a pair of black sweatpants from within the hardwood furniture piece before dipping his feet into the legs one at a time. “It’s fuckin’ sacrilege that I won’t take part in” Velma rejoinders, hearing the man’s laugh without allowing it to affect her unchanged, revolted visage. Shrugging his shoulders without seemingly caring about the woman’s conclusion, Leon pulls the waistband up over his hips and looks toward his visitor, leaning forward with his arms pressing into the tops of his legs as he remains shirtless and cold. “Did you come here to complain about how I take my coffee?” he wonders aloud, watching the woman’s eyes fall back upon him from the place within the room that she’s occupied throughout the conversation’s duration, “I really doubt you came here just to give me my delivery. We have people for that.” Replacing her repulsed expression with a subdued smile, Velma turns to face the man to her side with the faintest nod preceding her reply. “They’re pulling up now” she responds, watching the man’s humoured expression fall to one of a more normal neutrality, his upper body pulling back in the seat that he takes before starting the journey of looking for a shirt. “They’re back a day earlier than I was expecting” Leon responds, pulling out the drawer of the storage compartment beneath the one he’d chosen his pants out of, focusing solely on one side of the sliding shelf that he retrieves a light grey, long sleeved shirt from. “Being early isn’t the only thing they decided to surprise us with” Velma adds in, watching the man throw one hand through the first sleeve before pausing as he takes the comment into thought. Squinting curiously, the man remains stoic for a moment before deciding to finally free his flesh from the cool breeze of cold air that makes it beneath the suite’s door and any other part of the room having gone without proper insulation treatment since the fall of society. “They brought a new person with them” Velma remarks, taking the man’s continued silence as an invitation to offer context for her rather worrying claim. Having been given enough time to prepare his chicory coffee as properly as he could, Leon holds the door open for his female acquaintance and follows her lead down the wrapping assortment of concrete levels, the three rows spectator seats that had once occupied them having been torn out and discarded long ago. Feeling their breath hit their faces, the pair advance beyond the variety of other suites that house some lucky few whilst others host a variety of purposes from storing boxes of future goods or computers and radios for future contact. Advancing beyond a wide, yet oddly narrow room directly behind what used to serve as home plate, the pair step onto a platform painted a bright shade of yellow before Leon begins repeatedly spinning a crank on the machine’s side. Gradually descending lower, the raised floor becomes anything but as they draw closer toward ground level, the chain attached to the gears gradually shifting a wooden contraption housing cinder blocks that are manoeuvred out of the way at the same pace as the lift falls. Eventually finding themselves as close to the ground as they’re going to get, the pair begin descending the steps toward what had once been the baseball diamond, but now hosts a variety of sheds, huts, tents, and wooden structures acting as stands to small businesses. “You said they were in the eatery?” the man inquires, looking toward the woman as she nods in response, carrying one with each step matching the man’s own. Drawing closer to the centre of town, the buildings that they begin to pass become less quaint and more sophisticated, towering over the others in comparison. Ranging anything from three to five stories high, towers stretch out from the middle of the field built out of nothing more than some rebar and poured concrete, looking over the much smaller buildings throughout the stadium base that host barren gardens atop them, picked clean of their harvest as the cold sets in for the season. Rounding the corner with a look of intense displeasure, Leon leads the charge that he soon brings to an end, the woman that had accompanied him stopping at the exact same point. “And you’re sure you don’t know who the person with them is?” he asks aloud, watching as their friends’ backs remain turned toward them, unaware of their arrival, but likely more informed about the blonde lady that they’ve brought with them than the camp’s leader is. “All I know is that she’s a woman, she’s blonde, she’s white, and that’s it” Velma responds, entirely clueless over anything that a soul with functioning eyes wouldn’t be privy to. Letting a sigh leave through his nose, Leon begins marching forward, not appearing keen on wasting time in addressing the elephant in the room that shares in a warm meal alongside the people he’d awaited the return of for all too long. “You’re a day early” he comments aloud, drawing closer to the pair that immediately glance back with a grins, equally pleased to see the man as they step out of their seat. “We figured it wouldn’t be that big of a deal” the woman with lighter hair than Velma responds, climbing out of the picnic table she’d inhabited alongside the much more tanned soul she’d travelled with whilst he wipes sauce from around his mouth. “It’s not, Sidney” Leon responds, trying to put on as welcoming of a tone as he can muster through his obvious reservation, hugging the woman that steps into his arms whilst her friend does the same with the woman beside him. “Welcome home, you fuckin’ nutcase” Velma greets, pressing her chin against the man’s shoulder before switching over to the group’s leader. Exchanging pleasantries amongst each other, the reunited halves are brought away from the joyous occasions of the safe conclusion to their travels by the intrigue that brings the diamond’s shot-caller to them instead of vice versa. Letting go of his hug with Jay whilst Velma and Sidney put their embrace to a much similar end, Leon advances two steps beyond the trio that now stands behind him whilst locking eyes with the table, seeing one figure without a name occupying the side opposite the ones his friends had taken up. “I’m sorry, guys. I really wish I could celebrate with you in good faith, but I’ve got a question on my mind that I’d really like an answer to” Leon proclaims, tucking one hand into the pocket of his casual pants whilst the other points toward the table, “were either of you two planning on telling me who the fuck this person is?” Wrapped in a pair of heavy coats with a face flushed for warmth, the blonde woman rests one elbow against the picnic table’s surface whilst the hand of her other arm gently caresses the outside of a steaming mug. “She’s not dangerous” Jay quickly interjects, stepping up to his concerned friend’s side with his hand gently resting upon the man’s shoulder. “I take that as an insult” the unnamed woman remarks, looking away from the dark skinned figurehead opposite her in favour of commenting on that declaration, her demeanour unchanged from the composed and seemingly-peaceful demonstration it presents. “You’re seriously gonna want to hear what she has to say” Jay assures, whispering toward the leader that immediately locks eyes with him. “Who the fuck is she?” Leon asks again in a hush, swaying his head from side to side with lifted eyebrows, asking as if not truly worried about her lack of identity, but genuinely wanting to be given insight into them. “You’ll have to ask her that yourself” Jay responds, pulling his comforting palm away from the man’s shoulder before lifting both hands in surrender, “there’s no justice I can do to what she’s got to say better than she can.” Slightly lowering his eyelids closer together, Leon frowns sarcastically before turning his face back toward the woman across the dirt lot from him, tucking his second hand into his pocket, “who are you?” Stepping forward, the man closes in on the table whilst he asks the question, letting his hands press against its surface as he stares down at the stranger, watching her chapped lips part to speak as he does. “My name’s Jaime” she answers, lifting the mug that steam rises out of toward her lips before pausing, carrying a squint toward the ceramic container that she soon points to, looking back at the man standing before her with a strange scowl, “this coffee is awful, by the way.” = Athens of America is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onwards = Returning a glass of water to the surface of the circular bar table she sits at one end of, Jaime looks toward the man directly opposite her with a shrug, her lips pressing together as her back leans against the plastic support of her seat. “That’s my story” she comments, not skipping a beat in presenting her case to those who’d asked to hear it, waiting for a response from any of them without knowing how long one will take. With his arms crossed, Leon stares at the woman without any noticeable judgement appearing through his visage, neither reservation or devotion toward believing the recitement provided to him. “For what it’s worth, she said the exact same thing in the car yesterday” Jay chimes in, standing against one side of the suite’s door whilst Velma occupies the other, “the city was empty like she said it was, all of those military vehicles leaving fits the profile, and she is who she says she is.” Watching his reunited friend as he speaks before turning toward the girl who’d endured the journey alongside him, Leon stares at the light brown haired girl in the corner of the room, her arms crossed as she leans against the point in which two walls meet. “And the part she said about the bomb?” he wonders aloud, finding the conclusion to her tale to be the most difficult part to recall. “There was a bomb. It hit the city, but we didn’t take any damage from it other than the windows on the truck being shattered” Sidney assures, nodding in agreement with what was said in a way that satisfies her compound’s leader, his eyes trailing back to the subject of his inquiry. “They put me in the backseat after they picked me up. I saw what the city looked like a few seconds after it was hit...” Jaime continues, standing by her statement as she shakes her head, “...the tower was still standing.” “So you don’t think the blast was as bad as they made it out to be?” Leon inquires, more so double-checking with his assumption already being just that. “I think they figured I’d just run for the hills and they’d come looking for me once they got back to the mainland” Jaime answers, unwavering in her stance in a way that intrigues the stadium-based leader, her shrug insinuating that their motivations never mattered, “I figure they may find this place eventually, but they wouldn’t expect me to be here.” For a moment, Leon continues to look at the woman without uttering a word, his considerate expression holding firmly upon her without any thought to be read into, his curiosities not made specific through just the glimpse of his expression alone. Still without a reply, he reaches for the white mug a short distance from him and lifts it to his lips, pausing before he can take a sip as he watches a scowl come over the west coast native. “How can you stomach that shit?” Jaime questions, her bitter look of disgust held toward the cup in the man’s hand, watching as he waits a beat before following through on his effort, sipping from the mug as loudly as he can whilst those that line the room laugh with amusement, though Velma mixes her humour with a revulsive frown. “Ahh!” Leon sighs with relief as he lowers the mug, clicking his tongue as he licks his lips before delivering the new arrival to his community a smile. “Because I’ve invested way too much time in planting chicory to let anything go to waste... The roots included” the leader answers, watching the woman’s head shake with a curl in her upper lip. “I can’t imagine you have very much room for investment” Jaime retorts, looking past Jay in favour of pointing an eye toward the dirt-covered rooftops of the buildings that litter the former baseball diamond, “I don’t know what the Red Sox did, but their stadium isn’t big enough for a functioning community.” “That’s why we branched out not long after we moved in” Leon replies, addressing the woman’s comments with composure and a cool head, treating her as if she were company he didn’t mind sharing space with, but was still the owner of the land they were meeting atop. “Our community is everything inside of Park Drive, Boylston Street and Beacon Street. That includes the stadium” he adds on, reclaiming the mug for another sip as he does, “we make what we need and protect what we have.” “Protect what you have from who?” Jaime quickly asks back, her tone just as relaxed and unbothered as the man across from her, only for the attention that she gives him to be called for elsewhere by the answer provided at her side. “People that didn’t like the way that we chose to live when we started building up this place” Velma answers, her arms crossed at the cool chill that runs through the very top of the suite’s entrance, “they wanted to barter while we wanted to live communally.” “What does that mean?” the Angelino-originating visitor questions back, unsure of what’s meant by the pair of seemingly-opposing ways of operating, only for the man that she’d answered to throughout the last hour to take his turn in answering someone else’s question. “Why don’t we show you instead of continuing to sit around here going back and forth?” Leon proposes, looking at the woman with a patient face as he allows her to decide for him, willing to wait however long it takes. Not needing long, Jaime puckers her bottom lip and climbs off of her barstool, tossing her hands toward the suite’s entrance with a shrug, “lead the way, captain.” With a subdued chuckle, Leon juts his eyebrows up and climbs off the table, watching as Jay steps ahead of the pack to open the door, freeing the space for those within the suite to venture beyond it before watching the group’s leader turn back suddenly. “Before we go, I feel like I’m not being a good enough host” Leon comments, looking toward Jaime before glancing at his own coffee in hand, “if you don’t like the coffee, is there some other drink you’d like before we give you a tour?” Taking in a deep breath, the visitor at the very back of the group looks toward the floor before spinning around, letting her eyes lead their way to the makeshift kitchen in the back of the room before squinting. “Have you got any bourbon?” Jaime inquires, continuing to stare at the counter before turning back, going a few seconds without receiving an answer and taking such a delay to be worthy of glancing back. “You want a glass of bourbon at ten o’clock in the morning?” Leon quips back, lowering his chin toward the ground as he looks toward the woman with a hint of curiosity, almost doubting that she’s serious. “Do you see that field behind you? It was hosting Red Sox games a few years ago, and now it has a sad little concrete skyscraper in midfield...” Jaime retorts, a sarcastic and unserious tone carried through her rebuttal, “...is anyone really in a position to judge me for how early I start drinking in the day?” With both eyebrows raised high, Sidney looks toward the rest of her group as they wear various expressions of amusement and pleasure, the leader of the group bowing before swaying his head in refusal to further question her tastes. With a grin, Jaime retreats to the kitchen and pours herself a glass of straight bourbon, politely returning the tall, bulky glass bottle where she’d taken it and advancing toward the door, passing the suite’s tenant as she does. “Shall we?” she wonders aloud as their paths cross before she carries forward, following the lead of Velma whilst Leon stays behind for a few seconds, his grin widening as Sidney passes him a funny face as the last one to leave, the tip of her tongue pressing against her top two teeth with a grin. Letting out a sigh, the leader sips at his drink before following the trail that his group blazes, manning them from the very back of the line with a hand in his pocket. | “You do the work that’s needed of you and, as long as you’re producing, you get what you need” Velma comments, leading the group of five down a road leading to a scenic street with orange cones standing at the entrance to it. “So the big guy back there decides that a job needs to be done, he finds people to do it, and then gives them food when they do it?” Jaime questions aloud, pointing her thumb toward the leader that continues to trail at the end of the line. “Food, medicine, whatever. You take only what you need, bring it home and repeat the process the next day” Velma responds, doing so in lieu of Leon, who continues purposefully trying to keep to himself as their adventure progresses. “If you’re not pulling your weight, the people in charge of looking after whatever you need will be told to look out for you” the woman carries forward, watching a sceptical expression take shape upon the guest’s face. “But we keep tabs on everything we have. If we’re running low on something, we’ll put a temporary limit on how much of it someone can take until we get more in stock” Jay adds in, travelling just beside Sidney a few feet behind the Angelino native. “I’m assuming you send people out scavenging for stuff when you start running low?” Jaime responds, genuinely investing in figuring out how the community operates with experience of her own running one differently. “Ideally, we’ll be able to produce whatever we need in house” Velma assures, making it to the end of one street and entering one that wraps around the southern portion of the community, “it’s the logical next step now that we’ve established everything.” “We’ve already started for what it’s worth, though. It’s not like we haven’t” Jay corrects, not wanting their way of life to be misunderstood, “that whiskey you’re drinking is made here. So is Leon’s awful coffee.” Rolling his eyes whilst shaking his head and staring at the river toward his right, Leon sips from his mug whilst the rest of the group continues to run through the tour just as they would any other. “Hygiene products, carpentry work, concrete mixing, farming, clothing, and a lot more than that I’m pretty sure. We’re self-sufficient in all of that” the woman at the front of the group continues to explain, looking back to find her comments being received by their visitor, but not being what she focuses on the most. Coming to a stop, Velma turns around and looks toward Jaime, who takes notice of this sudden pause before following the woman’s eyes toward the river, which is what had caught the Angelino’s eye the most. “There are five roads that connect us to Free Boston and every other passageway is blocked off or guarded” the dark haired, facially-scarred line leader explains, aware that there may be no better moment within the tour to address the elephant in the room than this one. “Their northern border ends at the edge of Fenway Road, and our southern border ends here... At the end of Park Drive” Velma continues, pointing toward the sidewalk separating their asphalt walkway with the luscious park between the two societies, “everything between those two streets is neutral territory. Neither of us owns it, neither of us are allowed to keep our people from it. Those are the rules.” “Says who?” Jaime quickly questions back, a squint carried in her eyes as she challenges the conclusion drawn, finding a lack of sense made in the declaration and wishing to see through it. “Says the deal that I signed with the people in charge over there” Leon answers from the back, re-earning the attention of those ahead of him as they guide their faces in his direction. “One of the most important things for you to understand while you’re here is that there are two very different worlds separated by that little river” the man continues, stepping past the couple ahead of him in search of the visitor that watches him approach. “Across the river is Free Boston. You want to vote for your leaders? Go there. You want to buy and sell goods? Go there. You want to trick people into buying your phoney religion? Go there” Leon simplifies. “I know you say all of those things like they’re bad, but that was what the United States was built upon” Jaime responds, watching the man’s face take a smile upon itself as he chuckles. “That’s how you ran your republic out west too, wasn’t it?” Leon inquires, watching the woman’s unphased expression carry with the rest of her head into a nod, only to experience the lack of a censor the leader across from her cares to wield, “...how did those communities end up working out?” Straightening out, Jaime's face takes on a barely-noticeable scowl as she watches the man’s nod provide her all the rebuttal needed as his face takes across the river once more. “Luckily for you, Free Boston isn’t the same deal... It’s worse” Leon corrects, an eyebrow raised toward the distant skyline that had once represented Boston and been synonymous with the city from the perspective of an outsider, “Free Boston is as anarcho-capitalist as it gets.” Following the man’s line of sight toward the skyline in the distance, Jaime takes her eyes toward the concrete filing cabinet-like building with an antenna at the very top, piercing the sky as the first thing that catches her eye. “If there’s police? Someone owns them. If there’s a fire station? Someone owns them. If there’s-” Leon explains, only to watch the visitor’s hand wave at him as she interjects. “I get it, I get it. If you’re over there, you’re on your own until you own people or people own you. I’ve read about it in books” Jaime responds, wanting to do away with the doomsday speech in favour of getting to the point. “The bottom line is that if you’re over here and you ask someone for help, they ask ‘how and where?’...” Leon explains, cutting to the chase as desired as he points to the ground, the aim of his finger then drawing across the river, “...if you’re over there and you ask someone for help, they ask ‘what’s in it for me?’.” “So south of Fenway Park, but north of Fenway Road is the post-apocalyptic communist option. And south of Fenway Road and to wherever the hell it ends is the post-apocalyptic free for all option?” Jaime questions aloud, looking toward the leader of the community she currently occupies the grounds of. “That’s pretty much the gist of it” Leon responds, nodding in approval as he looks toward the public spaces between the two borders, “and if you know people across the river, the neutral zone is where you can come together and catch up before going your separate ways again.” “So why aren’t more people leaving your community and taking their chances across the way?” Jaime challenges, crossing her arms as she proposes the thought to the man, who grins as he drops his head, “is everything already too bought and sold to get a foothold in over there? Because I can’t be the only one thinking I’m smart enough to work my way up to whatever the hell I want over there.” “I’ve never had one of these tours in all the years that this place has been running without being asked that question at least once” Leon rebuttals, always humoured to see it happen again and again whilst waiting for the miraculous day where someone finally wouldn’t ponder the question aloud. “You’d be shocked at how many people think that exact same thing only to come running to our borders begging to be let in” the communist-side runner confesses, doing so with a smile that proceeds to fade regretfully as his eyes wander back toward the natural border, “sometimes, it keeps me up at night how often we turn them away and have to let them know that there’s no place for them here.” “We try not to expand beyond our means. As far as the fuckin’ treaty goes, Free Boston isn’t allowed to expand north of the old I-90. That cuts off the old downtown and anything above us, so there’s no boxing us in” Velma carries onward, addressing the concern about the community’s size, “until we have a reason to expand north ourselves, we live within our means. We can’t afford to house more than a couple dozen immigrants from across the river a year. Maybe a hundred at most?” “Immigrants? God, you talk like you live in separate countries” Jaime responds, looking at the woman ahead of her with bewildered eyes, only for them to disappear when the man her back is momentarily turned toward doubles down on her assertion. “We do now. And if anyone should be able to see why we can make the decision to look at it that way, I’d expect it to be the person who came up with the idea of ‘the Angelino Republic’” Leon responds, offering an olive branch of respect to the woman, who appreciates the expectation he has that she can see things from his point of view. Looking back across the river once more whilst keeping to herself, Jaime lets the air fall silent as her breath continues to cloud it, reminding the girl that the unfamiliar environment she now journeys lacks the warmth and sunshine that her homeland had. “If you feel like taking your chances over there, just say the magic word and we’ll let them know” Leon warns, housing his hands in the pockets of his warm sweatpants as he looks at the side of the woman’s rosy-cheeked face, “but the odds are not in your favour.” “And to piggyback off of Leon’s point, we’ve taken in about three hundred defectors from Free Boston since we signed that treaty” Velma adds, reclaiming the new arrival’s line of sight, “we’ve had some go over and take their chances without ever coming back for one reason or another, but out of anyone that’s come here actually seeing what Free Boston is like... Not one of them has ever gone back.” Drifting to the corner of her face before falling toward the pale asphalt they stand upon, Jaime’s eyes harbour the weight of what she’s being told for only a few seconds, inevitably taking toward the community’s leader in search for an answer that she’s intrigued with finding. “If they call their little country Free Boston, what do you guys call yours?” she wonders aloud, watching the man’s smirk meet her inquiry, “are you guys Communist Boston? Russian Boston? Soviet Boston?” Chuckling with each new additional option, Leon shakes his head as her proposals reach their conclusion, replaced by silence that’s meant to afford him an opportunity to speak through. “Athens” he answers, straight-faced and serious as he looks into the somewhat satisfied look he receives from the inquisitive chancellor-turned-civilian. “One of the city’s lesser-known nicknames was ‘the Athens of America’ and I liked that a lot more than calling our camp ‘Beantown’” he explains, sharing a brief giggle with the woman as their amusement comes to ahead with their eyes taking toward each other’s, looking for a glimpse of life in the other’s face. “I like it” Jaime confesses, pulling her head back whilst staring into the well-meaning and seemingly genuine stare of the community’s leader, her eyes eventually drifting back to the woman at the front of the group. “Where to next?” the exiled chancellor asks aloud, watching Velma’s face grin whilst she lifts her bourbon glass to her lips, sipping from the very cold drink as their journey carries onward, leading them around the border street with the neighbouring nation and to the rest of the tour. == Athens of America == |
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