Philadelphia, the United States of America

September 30th, 1780

Sergeant George Brown of the Marine Corps, or officially now known as ex-Sergeant George Brown, walked down the subdued streets of the capital of the United States and made his way to the Presidential Mansion. He had been back in "civilization" for just over a week now, as the business with the Shawnee Indians took far too long for anyone's liking. The Shawnees were thoroughly defeated by the United States military after a brutal three-year war, which saw thousands dead on both sides. Under the direction of President Washington and President Kim, the American forces were restricted from looting and massacring natives. Even so, swathes of Shawnee villages were destroyed due to the war and many Shawnees were left homeless. Thankfully for them, President Kim was very generous when it came to the peace treaty. He offered the Shawnees a chance to integrate themselves into the United States peacefully and promised compensation for the destruction caused by the war. In exchange, the Shawnees were to lay down their arms and be restricted to their original homeland territories. The leaders of the Shawnees were also exiled away from the United States and into the west, with a clear warning that returning to the United States would lead to their arrest. Personally, the former Marine thought that the president was too lenient to the Indians. Sure, he had fought with plenty of Indians side by side during the war against the British, but they were "good" Indians that were valuable allies and fellow Americans. The Indians he fought were far wilder, and he had seen some of the atrocities they committed up close: everything from massacred settlers to scalped soldiers. There were far too many times where he wanted to avenge the death of his less fortunate comrades, but only his training with the Marines restrained his impulses.

Now he was heading to the residence of the president to meet with the Secretary of Defense, his former brother in arms. Apparently, the secretary wanted to speak with him privately and offer him a job that was outside the military. Originally, he was planning on returning to South Carolina after his time in the military was over, but he was interested in what Secretary Poor had to say and decided to travel to Philadelphia before going back.

Upon arriving at the Presidential Mansion, he was greeted to a sight of many people lining up in front of the large residence. It seemed like dozens, if not hundreds, of folks, were waiting in line near the entrance. At first, he thought they were government workers attempting to enter the Mansion in order to get to work, as it was still early morning and the Presidential Mansion was being used by the various "departments" and agencies. However, he saw that there were far too many children and babies in line for that to make sense. In fact, it seemed like the line was filled with every sort of citizen: whites, blacks, women, men, elderly, children, rich people, and poor people. Curious, he walked up to one of the guards denying people entrance and asked him about the line, "Why are there so many people in line?"

The young white man standing at the entrance wore a black jacket and dark blue pants. A musket hung tightly on his right shoulder and small golden star patch with the letters "S.S." stood out on his left breast. Upon seeing Brown, the man scowled and motioned towards the line, "They're all here early to see the president."

"To see the president?"

The guard looked at him oddly. "Where have you been? It's been in the newspapers for about a month now. "Come meet the president for five minutes and speak about any important issues to him! The president will be open to all visitors every Saturday from sunrise to sunset." They're all here to meet him, shake his hands, and talk about how they want funds for this or laws for that."

Brown raised an eyebrow, "So he just lets any common folk walk in and talk to him?"

"Only on Saturdays, the president is a busy man," The guard replied thoughtfully, "Well if you aren't here to meet him, then are you here for a meeting or work?"

"For a meeting with the Secretary of Defense," Brown pulled out his citizenship papers and the letter with the Department of Defense's seal on it.

It took a few moments for the man to review all of the Marine's papers. Once he did, he returned them to the African American and escorted him through the front, "Good luck with whatever your meeting is about."

The ex-military tipped his hat and walked into the Presidential Mansion. The white mansion was large and was a few blocks away from the heart of Philadelphia. If Brown had to guess, then there were around forty rooms within the building. After he walked into the building, the man encountered a woman sitting behind a small desk in the lobby area. The woman beckoned him to step forward and looked up at him, "Do you need something, sir?"

She was a young black woman, possibly in her early twenties, and sounded articulate. Brown also noticed that she was a looker too, "I'm here for a meeting with the Secretary of Defense."

"Your name, sir?"

"George Brown, I'm a friend of the Secretary."

The woman didn't look fazed at all as she stood up to escort him towards the secretary's office. The two wordlessly walked together down a hallway and stopped in front of a door that was marked "Department of Defense." The receptionist rapped her knuckles on the door and was met with an inquiry from the inside, "Mr. Secretary, there is a man by the name of Mr. George Brown here to see you."

"Tell him to come in!" A muffled voice from the inside said.

"He'll see you now."

As Brown opened the door, the woman fast-walked back to the front to greet another guest. His thoughts about the girl was disturbed as former brigadier general Salem Poor walked up to him, "Sergeant! It's certainly good to see you again, alive and in one piece."

Brown chuckled and shook the man's hand, "It's just "Mr. Brown" now, Mr. Secretary. How is the high-end life treating you?"

"Fairly well, but I would rather fight the British again than handle all the paperwork I have been assigned to," Secretary Poor said with a laugh. He motioned for his former subordinate to sit down in front of his desk before he spoke again, "The office is certainly nice, though half of the time, I am out of the office and inspecting soldiers and sailors."

The office was very nice. It was spacious and well-lit from the two large windows behind Secretary Poor's desk. There was a large painting of a battle hanging from one of the walls, while various memoirs that Secretary Poor collected during the war were hung from the opposite wall (his military uniform, his medals, his certificates, and other valuable trinkets). There was enough room for several couches with a coffee table in the corner, most likely for guests, along with a bookshelf filled with various books.

The ex-sergeant had to let out a whistle, "It certainly is a nice office."

"We can admire the office together later, but for now, I have called you here for official business," Secretary Poor's mood suddenly shifted into seriousness, "I have two reasons for calling you here. The first is, you are to be awarded the Benedict Arnold Medal of Honor for your bravery and valor in the war against the Shawnee Indians."

"What?"

"You're being awarded the Medal of Honor, by the president himself. You were one of the few nominated for the award, and the president has decided that you were fitting of one."

"I'm sorry, but you lost me. What did I do exactly to be awarded this medal?"

Secretary Poor let out a tired sigh and rifled through some of the papers on his desk. He found what he was looking for and read the content of the paper out loud, "During the Battle of Kemp, Sergeant George Brown of the Fighting Freedmen, formerly of the Continental Marines, rescued four soldiers that were ambushed by a dozen Shawnee Indians and held off the Indians by himself for a period of ten minutes in order to let the soldiers escape. He managed to kill four Shawnee Indians before the Indian ambushers retreated. Sergeant Brown suffered no injuries from this incident."

"Ah that. It wasn't much."

"Wasn't much? You saved the lives of four men and fought twelve Indians at the same time!" Secretary Poor exclaimed.

Brown fiddled with his hat, "Well, I just shot one at point-blank range and stabbed a few with the bayonet."

"Well, you're getting the medal anyways sergeant. The ceremony is in two weeks, so you'll have to stay here for the time being. I'll mail you with further information after this meeting. The next thing I want to discuss is about work. Do you have any jobs planned in the immediate future?"

"No, I was going to go look for one once I got back to South Carolina. I've made a lot from being a soldier, so I was thinking about going home and starting a farm while employing some of the former slaves for help."

"Well, I have a job offer for you. It won't be anything military, because dear God you have already served enough for this country and I know you're done with the military. What I'm offering you is a job as the leader of the Secret Service."

"The Secret Service?" Brown recalled the patch the guard in the front of the Presidential Mansion wore, "You mean like that guard outside?"

"Oh, you've met Jim? Great lad, though he's still rough around on the edges. Yes, I'm offering you to be like that guard outside. The Secret Service isn't just for guarding duty, but they're also tasked with protecting the president when he goes out for public events, sort through any mails directed to him, and crack down on any counterfeiters. It'll be much more relaxed than the military, and I need someone that's capable and experienced to take the helm of the agency. I'm not selecting you because I know you, sergeant. I'm selecting you because you've proven to be capable, and I know you don't want to go back to the military. Even so, I think we need people like you to help lead and establish a solid base to start from."

"Why not one of the higher-ranking officers?"

The secretary grimaced, "Most of them are either retired, in politics, or reapplying for the military. We've had a few candidates, but most of them have no military backgrounds."

"Hmmm. May I have some time to think about it?"

Secretary Poor nodded, "Of course. You have until the ceremony to come to a decision. Then again, there's also another option if you want to implore. It's about your home state, South Carolina. Apparently, the Secretary of Federal Lands and Resources came across information that there may be gold in the region. I have been authorized to inform you of this since many of the freed slaves down in South Carolina are still living in poverty and struggling. So if you want to recruit former slaves and strike for gold for yourselves under the government's direction..."