Soldiers marched in tight files, their boots striking the marble floor in perfect rhythm. The sound rolled through the hall like a drum.
Every seat was filled.
Men in tailored suits. Women wrapped in luxury. Governors, senators, industrial heads, party leaders. Faces the public trusted. Faces the public envied. About a hundred of them, sitting shoulder to shoulder, all unusually quiet.
No one spoke.
Cameras lined the walls. Red lights blinked. Microphones waited.
At the front of the hall, a long podium stood beneath a massive national emblem. Flags hung behind it, their colors heavy and still, like they were holding their breath.
The doors at the side opened and immediately, the soldiers stopped marching.
President Vale walked in.
No dramatic pause. No wave. Just a steady stride down the aisle, security falling into place around him without a word. His jaws were tight, eyes looking forward.
He reached the podium and placed both hands on it.
"Tonight," he began, his voice carried cleanly through every speaker, "I address you not as your president….. but as a citizen who is angry."
A murmur rippled through the audience. Everyone knew the problems at hand
"In the past weeks," he continued, "our nation has watched names disappear from headlines only to reappear in obituaries." He paused, letting that settle. "Influential names. Protected names. People who believed themselves untouchable."
A camera zoomed in. The President did not blink.
"This is not coincidence. This is not rumor. And it is not something we will ignore."
Behind him, a screen lit up.
No images of bodies. No blood. Just dates. Names. Positions. All marked in red.
"The death of Councilman Green," the President said, his tone flattening, "is under active federal investigation. Every lead will be followed. Every asset deployed. No influence, no wealth, no political standing will shield anyone connected to it."
A few people shifted in their seats.
Then his voice hardened.
"And as of forty-eight hours ago, the Federal Artificial Intelligence Agency headquarters was attacked."
The room stiffened.
"The bombing claimed lives. Among them" His voice cracked.... "Director Nash."
Silence fell heavy.
"For his service, his family will receive full state honors," the President said. "And starting tonight, a national fund has been opened in his name. Donations will go directly to the families affected by the attack and toward rebuilding the agency he died protecting."
Cameras flashed.
"We will rebuild," he said. "We will investigate. And we will respond."
He leaned closer to the microphone.
"To those responsible," he added quietly, "understand this: you have our attention."
The flags behind him shifted slightly as air moved through the hall.
The President straightened.
"This administration will do whatever it takes," he finished, "to restore order. No matter how high the threat stands."
The President straightened.
"This administration will do whatever it takes," he finished, "to restore order. No matter how high the threat stands."
Clap...Clap....Clap.
Three slow claps echoed from the back row.
Not a clap of applause but a mocking one
The sound cut through the hall sharper than any shout. Everyone turned around instantly, wanting to see who had dared do such
At the far end of the chamber, a man sat with one leg crossed over the other, relaxed where no one else dared to be. Blue-on-blue military uniform. Polished boots. A general's insignia stitched proudly on his arm.
Smoke curled lazily from the pipe between his fingers.
He didn't rise immediately. He let the silence stretch, savoring it, then finally, he stood. The pipe came down.
He removed the shades on his eyes
A ripple ran through the audience like a struck nerve.
General Vorden!
"Hey, bro," the man said lightly, voice carrying without effort. "Long time no see." His mouth tilted into a grin. "So… how's the presidency treating you?"
A dozen people shot to their feet.
"Outrageous!"
"Insolence!"
"Security!"
Vorden laughed. Not loud. Not wild. Just a short, amused breath that carried far too well.
He turned toward the voice that had shouted the loudest. "Insolence?" he asked calmly. "That's the word you chose?" His eyes flicked over the man's trembling hands, the expensive watch, the thin smile cracking under pressure. "Funny. Where I come from, that's what cowards call truth when it scares them."
Gasps scattered through the hall.
Someone pointed at the President. "Sir! You can't allow this—"
Vale's hands tightened around the podium. His shoulders looked heavier than they had minutes ago.
"Vorden…" His voice faltered, just a little. He swallowed. "What do you want?"
Vorden's gaze softened for a heartbeat when it landed on his brother.
Then it hardened again.
"I want you to stop lying," he said.
A murmur rose immediately. Egos were hurt
Vorden took a step forward. Soldiers along the walls stiffened but they did not move.
"You stand there," he said, gesturing vaguely at the podium, "and talk about restoring order. About protection. About doing whatever it takes." He let out a quiet breath through his nose. "I've heard that line before. So have they."
He swept his arm toward the crowd.
"Different faces. Same promises. Same results."
"That's enough!" a governor barked. "This is a democrat-"
Vorden snapped his gaze to him. The word died halfway out of the man's mouth.
"Yes," Vorden said softly. "That word." He paced slowly now, boots echoing. "Democracy. The miracle cure. The sacred system that somehow keeps producing the same disease."
He stopped near the center aisle.
"Tell me," he said, looking around, "when the streets burned, where was democracy?" His eyes shifted to another face. "When food vanished and crime replaced law, where was your freedom then?"
People shouted back. Accusations. Denials. Excuses layered on excuses.
Vorden didn't raise his voice.
"You watched," he said simply. "You always watch. Committees. Debates. Votes. While people begged for protection, not speeches."
Vale's jaw trembled.
Vorden noticed.
"You wanted to be different," he said, turning fully toward his brother now. His voice dropped. "I know you did. I watched you try." A pause. "They tied your hands. Just like they tied everyone else's."
Vale's eyes burned. He blinked hard, once. Twice.
"You think I don't remember?" Vorden continued. "The nights we went hungry. The elections that came and went. The men who promised change and left with full pockets." His mouth curved, bitter. "You became President… and the machine swallowed you whole."
"That's not ....true," Vale whispered.
Vorden's smile faded. "It's honest."
A politician near the front slammed his hand on the desk. "Arrest him! He's calling for sedition!"
Vorden turned his head slightly.
"Yes," he said. "I am."
The room erupted.
"Seize him!"
"Guards!"
All eyes swung to the soldiers.
They did not move.
Not a single step.
Sweat beaded on a minister's forehead. "Why are you just standing there?! That's an order!"
The soldiers stared straight ahead. Faces rigid. Hands steady.
They dared not.
Vorden chuckled. "See?" He spread his hands. "Even now, the truth answers faster than your system."
He looked back at Vale one last time. "I'm done watching," he said quietly. "If protection won't come from democracy… then it will come from me."
Vale's voice cracked. "Vorden… don't do this."
Vorden put his shades back on.
"I already am."
He turned and walked toward the exit.
As he got outside, a snicker echoed in his head. It was Lora, his AI assistant
"I never knew you were that good at acting sir"
Vorden grinned "Heh....I sure did some cringe stuffs but well.....it's for the best innit?"
"Affirmative sir"
Vorden cracked his knuckles. "Lora..... he paused.
"Put me through to the fourth demon"