S1, E3 | Presidential Impotence

“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 ==