- AS -

Abraham closed the Interweb page.

"There you go, sir, all the preparations have been implemented."

"How will that help our cause?" Randall asked, lightly puzzled.

"By causing zizanny in the population. They rely entirely on the media to make their decisions for them. Nowadays, they're especially more gullible to underground social outlets. This way, by sending zizanny to the underground media, they're exposed to all the possibilities, and will have no choice but to grow tired, and choose one; the one standing in front of them."

"I leave it all to you; my own plans are more physical in reach," Randall sighed. "What about Bohm?"

"Vice-President Carrie has been informed. The documents are also available to inculpate Bohm, and for the rest, we can only hope that Carrie still refuses to take power. Giving his suspicions toward the nature of power, I think the chances working in our favour are very high."

"Very well."

Randall made to leave until Abraham stopped him.

"Don't forget, Randall, I will need to go solo from now on. You can no longer be involved in the front lines once I'm in power."

"I understand. It suits me even better."

As Randall turned around, Abraham stopped him again.

"Your family name, Redspear. It's very old, or so Daniel told me. You would even belong to the fabled thirteen noble families."

Randall smiled softly.

"Yes, that's true." He sighed and walked to the table, suddenly nostalgic. "My family's very old. Nearly two thousand years old. In fact, almost all the remaining noble Evropans families are as old... But as with our world, we've become... tainted. Many of the families no longer remembers their nobility."

"What were you after?" Abraham asked.

Randall considered him.

"We used to own a secret. At least, that's as far as my own grandfather could remember. A secret that could've shaped the world and kept it strong across time. But we all lost it. The timeless earnesty to become a grand civilization remains... but no one can any longer remember the original reason. It's a shame; we could've won our place in the stars a long time ago."

"And now?" Abraham pressed.

"The other families have their own agendas, and as long as they don't meddle in mine, I don't meddle in theirs. My own is to make humanity strong again." Randall's eyes grew dreamful. "Imagine, Abraham. Thousands of years ago, empires stretched across entire continents. Pyramids were built by human's own hands without any fancy help. People nowadays wish to believe that external forces were behind this civilization's greatest achievements... But they don't want to admit the truth, because it would mean that humanity has become so lazy, puny. Temples, pyramids, a two thousand miles long wall upon mountains and valleys, were built by the sheer will of humanity. Kings and mere human leaders carried empires across continents. The Mongolian Empire, the great Alexandrian conquest, the Berbere Nations; individuals that went to great lengths for their people: Caesar, the Wallachian Dragon, Napoleon. Inventors, engineers, philosophers.."

Randall clenched his fist.

"Look at us now. We've become weak and lazy; relied on robots and machines to do our job, sitting on our arses expecting everyone else to give us the life we should be grasping."

Randalk looked up at Abraham:

"Prince Nebuchadnezzar healed Ysadora, and engineered our plan, and I let him, because it will force humans to grow stronger out of that challenge; the few survivors will have no choice but to grasp the challenges presented to them, and rise even greater, knowing exactly what almost brought their extinction."

"So that's your plan," Abraham realized the hidden meaning of Randall's words. "Does the Prince know?"

Randall smirked.

"Of course. You've felt first hand how we can't lie to the Shiakars."

Abraham looked in shock.

"And he doesn't care that you're plotting for humanity to revolt against the Shiakars?"

Randall laughed.

"Of course not. He's looking forward to this, he's eager to see how it plays out, if us humans can truly become as strong as them. Empires share the sky alongside one another. An Empire has no place in the universe if it cannot survive by its own will and strength. As long as any Empire achieve this, the Shiakars welcome the challenges required for that Empire to evolve. That is their role in the grand scheme. And mine is to rise Ysadora's world into such an Empire."

Abraham looked at the old man with admiration.

"Then I'll do my best supporting you in that challenge."

"I've known from the start you would. I'm glad to know my instincts aren't obsolete," Randall smirked.

Abraham's phone rang.

"Mr. Solomon, President Bohm has arrived at the airport," the caller announced.

"You know what to do," Abraham said. "Make sure that Vice-President Carrie overlooks everything."

"Yes, sir," the caller simply said before hanging up.

"Ready to be the President?" Randall asked Abraham, putting his hand proudly on Abraham's shoulder.

Abraham smirked.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

**********************

The guards roughly sat Bohm down on the cheap plastic chair in front of the bulletproof glass panel.

Bohm shook the hands off and stared furiously at his visitor.

"What the hell's going on, John?"

Vice-President John Carrie cooly stared back.

"I'd appreciate if you didn't insult my country further by pretending to not be aware of your deliberate crimes."

"Crimes?! For Gaea's sake, the one that should be in prison is Randall!"

Carrie's eyebrows lifted.

"Your Counsellor?"

"Yes! Everything's that happened is from his doing!"

Carrie stood up straighter; his crossed arms dissimulated his anger as he spoke.

"I see... Let's play your game. You want me to believe that a mere Counsellor is responsible for all the last months' failures?"

"He's no mere..."

Carrie slammed his hand down, his emaciated face furious.

"And if that would ever be true, are you telling me in all seriousness that you somehow allowed your mere Counsellor to gain that much influence? YOU are the President. YOU promised to work alone to reduce corruption. I see your speeches and public meetings were just as much bullshits as everyone before you."

"That's because Randall..."

Carrie sighed in frustration, reaching in his pocket and slamming down a newspaper so that Bohm could see it.

"Breaking News: Through incessant effort from Public Advisor Abraham Solomon, evidences were dug up implicating Robert Bohm as a proficient member of the hate supremacist society Klavern. More diggings proved this society, naming themselves as 'the pure ones', to be guilty of several racist-based terrorist attacks, supremacist propaganda..."

Bohm looked in horror at the Vice-President.

"You cannot possibly believe that junk?!"

"And I should believe yours? I've seen the evidence with my own eyes. Your name, picture, even events is splattered in several of the Klavern files. Granted you weren't stupid enough to participate directly in the attacks... But did you think we'd overlook a Klavern being in power? What did you expect would happen?!"

"Randall is behind all of that!" Bohm yelled.

"Enough!" Carie bellowed. "Want more proof? We've just found the buried bodies of the Vymana squadron, executed in a Klavern ceremonial fashion. Did they found out something from you, and you ordered their execution?"

"Ask Abraham! He knows that things haven't gone right."

"Oh, we did ask him. His financial support plan has been put on hold since three weeks.. under explicit orders of you. These crime rates reduction you've promised? The opposite happened and they're up of 15 percent. We're investigating your wife to figure out how you've convinced the Security Division to lay off."

"Don't you dare drag Frances in his damn game!!" Bohm roared.

Carrie stared back coldly.

"I had hopes for you. But I wonder when the population, and all of us, will stop falling for beautiful words spoken by bitter old men. You had it hard, and like in any corrupt country, you figured the only way out was by joining a powerful group that promised doing the 'right thing'." Carrie rose. "You'll have your attorney, in time; for now, I have to fix that mess of yours."

"Please investigate Randall," Bohm cried.

Carrie snorted.

"The Supreme Jury will deal with this. I hope you and your band of 'pure ones' enjoyed your little short lived charade."

Bohm stared after Carrie in shock. Immediately, his thoughts went to Frances. Frances... in a cell just like his.

Furious, he hit the glass panel, the guards immediately rushing in to submit him.

"Let me go, for Gaea's sake. This is all a ruse! Let me call my attorney!! Let me go, I said!"

Bohm struggled as the guards carried him back to his cell, the prisoners clamouring in glee at the discomfiture of their distinguished comrade.