United States | The State of Our Union

[Odinson]

Private

NEW YORK, NEW YORK
Undisclosed Location
February 3, 1997
5:57 P.M. EST
​

A dimly lit, subterranean room had twenty or so men inside of it. They were quietly seated around a long, heavy mahogany table. The air was thick with cigar smoke and a hint of the softly-sweet smell of a mixture of colognes. All of the men were wearing suits as well as odd masks that hid their faces. Most of them resembled masks you may see during Mardi Gras in New Orleans, but the vast majority were either monochromatic or consisting of greyish, simple colors. The facial features on these masks, however, were a different story. Some were angry, while others were smiling, and others were entirely missing a mouth covering. Most of the men in the room were in their 50s and 60s, but there were some younger men on the fringes of the table who were in their 40s. A lone projector was providing the only light in the room - it shot a white beam towards one of the walls, and illuminated a screen. They had been going through a presentation for more than an hour at this point. The mood in the room was mixed, to say the best. While virtually all of them were in support of the mission, they all had different feelings about what would happen. Some of them regretted that it had to come to this, some of them felt that action such as this was inevitable, and a small minority reveled in the thrill of holding the fate of hundreds-of-millions of their countrymen in their hands.

The projector flicked to a black and white image of the United States flag, with the letters "FIN" written below it in black. One of the oldest men in the room, who was sitting at the head of the table, puffed his cigar and then billowed out a hefty cloud of white smoke like a locomotive. He softly groaned in satisfaction from the rush of nicotine that entered his blood, and then sat forward.
"Thank you for going through the plan for us, one last time Number 18," the older man said.
"It was my pleasure, Number 2," the younger man replied.

Number 2 set down his cigar and folded his hands on the table. The pale white light from the projector was partially reflecting from the screen on the other side of the room, and was just barely able to light up the men enough for them to see each other.
"Well, gentlemen," he said, "the time has come... You all know the plan. You all know what this means for us, our country, and the world. Once we do this, there will be no going back... But once we have done this, the world will be a better place - we are doing here what needs to be done, but what so many other people are too cowardly to do. Our leaders, the generals, the admirals, and academia have failed us, and they've failed the United States. Our forefathers tried in 1933, but they didn't put nearly enough thought into what they were doing... What we have planned here is... it's immaculate. And it couldn't have been accomplished without the support and help from each and every one of you. But that's enough talk. It's time we vote," he said.

Number 2 smashed his cigar into the ashtray in front of him. He looked around the room, as if he was trying to sniff out anyone who may have been having second thoughts.
"All in favor of proceeding with the operation, raise your right hand," he said. Everyone in the room raised their hand.

"All opposed?" he asked. Not a single hand went up. He smiled under his mask. Without saying another word, the old man picked up his landline and dialed a number. The other side rang a few times until someone else picked up.
"Hello Number 1, this is Number 2," the old man said as he looked at the black and white American flag still being projected on the wall, "We've just voted. 'Operation Guillotine' is in effect."

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WASHINGTON D.C.
The Capitol Building
February 4, 1997
9:01 P.M. EST​

The Sergeant at Arms of the House of Representatives stood at attention and made eye contact with House Speaker Newt Gingrich who was seated next to the President Pro Tempore of the Senate. The Sergeant at Arms cleared his throat and distinctly announced, "Mister Speaker, the President of The United States!" The joint-session of Congress, consisting of almost all the congressmen and senators from both chambers, stood in unison and began clapping and cheering as President Clinton walked in with his usual swagger. This was the first State of The Union since his reelection. The united clapping, and somewhat more excited cheering coming from his partisan colleagues in the Democratic Party, continued as he walked down the isle and shook hands with several congressmen. It took some time before he made it to the podium where Speaker Gingrich and the President Pro Tempore of the Senate were standing and clapping. President Clinton shook each of their hands, and handed both of them a copy of his speech contained within manila envelopes so that they could read along. The clapping continued even has President Clinton made a couple of attempts to wave everyone down and repeatedly thanked them for their applause. Eventually, Speaker Gingrich smacked his gavel a few times to bring order to the chamber - order, which wouldn't last long. The address was being carried live throughout the United States, and the world, with over 60-million Americans watching. It was also the first State of The Union to be live-streamed on the internet.

Everyone except the Speaker and the President sat down. Speaker Gingrich then swiftly said, "Members of Congress, I have the high privilege and the distinct honor of presenting to you, the President of The United States."
The congress resumed their clapping and cheering, but eventually President Clinton was able to start his speech.

"Mister Speaker, Mister President Pro Tempore, members of the 105th Congress, distinguished guests, my fellow Americans, I think I should begin by saying: thanks for inviting me back... I come before you tonight, with the challenge as great as any in our history. And a plan of action to meet that challenge. To prepare our people for the bold new world of the 21st century. We have much to be thankful for. With four years of growth, we have won back the basic strength of our economy. With crime and welfare rolls declining, we are winning back our optimism, the enduring faith that we can master any difficulty. Our soldiers, sailors, and airmen have fought bravely in the name of freedom. My fellow Americans, the state of our union is-"

Television screens and computer monitors across the world suddenly turned to blank static.

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WASHINGTON D.C.
16th Street
February 4, 1997
9:24 P.M. EST

​

"Charles, can we slow down a bit here?" asked Jackson Fitzgerald from the backseat of an unmarked SUV just after they made a sharp turn onto 16th Street.
"Mister Secretary," said the head of the Secretary of State's protection detail, "we have a change of plans - we're taking you to the White House. Nightwatch just went wheels-up from Andrews. They have the Deputy Secretary of Defense on board and couldn't wait for us."
"Where are they taking the President?" he asked as he checked his watch.
"I'm not sure," Charles said as he looked out the window, "we don't have any information on POTUS."

The Secretary could see the silhouette of Andrew Jackson's statue in Lafayette Park with the White House standing behind it as his motorcade raced towards the historic home of America's presidents. Dozens of D.C. police cars were parked on Pennsylvania Avenue with their emergency lights on as uniformed soldiers from D.C.'s National Guard began arriving to make an armed perimeter around the White House. Jackson's motorcade promptly made it through the barricades, and he was swiftly brought into the White House under an armed escort. As he walked inside, most of the staffers were staring up at televisions of the partially destroyed Capitol. The Secret Service took over for Jackson's security detail and escorted him to an elevator. In less than three minutes from entering the building, he was underground in the President's Emergency Operation Center (PEOC).

Senior federal agents, generals, admirals, and a few deputy-secretaries for federal departments or agencies appeared to be scrambling around, or on the phone. Jackson was brought to a large oval table in a secluded meeting room where some of the highest remaining officers in the armed forces and some of the few remaining agency executives were gathered. The Secret Service closed the door behind the Secretary of State, who was now left to his own devices. Virtually no one in the room noticed that he had walked in, however Jackson wasn't known for his lack of confidence.

"Excuse me..." he said as calmly he unbuttoned his suit and approached the head of the table. No one batted an eye as they continued their conversations on the phone or to each other.
"Gentlemen... HEY!" he yelled right before he slammed his briefcase down on the mahogany table. Everyone in the room turned towards him, "I need your attention right now. Stop whatever you're doing... Someone give me a debrief, where are we? Where is the President?"

General Leo Marshall, the Vice Chief of Staff for the Army, stood up. He was the most senior military officer at the White House at that moment. "Sir, the Capitol has been attacked with some kind of explosive, incendiary device. The Secret Service, FBI, and the D.C. National Guard are there now trying to find any survivors. We do not have a status on the President yet but... our sources on the ground say that there may be no survivors. Sir, you're the most senior member of the Federal Government in D.C. and the last remaining member of the Cabinet. Vice President Gore bugged out this evening to Tennessee - he went home to see his father who, we're told, is on his deathbed."

Jackson paused for a moment, and then took the seat at the head of the table. "How many Secret Service agents are in Tennessee with the Vice President?" he asked.
The Deputy Director of The Secret Service raised his pointer finger, "Mister Secretary, we have twelve at the farm with the Vice President and about 50 that are en route from Nashville to go meet them. We-"
"What? Twelve agents? That's it? For the Vice President of The United States?" Jackson asked.
"Yes sir, the Vice President left Washington against our advice and we didn't have any plan to move some agents around. They should be at the farmhouse in about thirty minutes," the Deputy Director said.
"General, what's the closest military base to the Vice President? Can we send someone to go pick him up and take him back to D.C.?" he asked.
Before the Deputy Director could say anything, General Marshall responded, "We have a Delta Force unit at Fort Campbell right now, they're there for... unrelated reasons. I'll have to call in, but I would estimate that they could make it there by helicopter in half an hour, maybe less if they can break air protocols?"
"Good - do it," Jackson said.

While Jackson's placement in the chain-of-command was dubious at best, General Marshall wanted to order this ten minutes ago so he wasn't going to miss the opportunity.
The general picked up one of the landlines on the desk, punched in a speed-dial number and said, "This is General Marshall - patch me in to the National Military Command Center at the Pentagon."

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CARTHAGE, TENNESSEE
Gore Family Home
February 4, 1997
9:25 P.M.

​

The 45th Vice President of the United States, Al Gore, was alone in the master bedroom of his family's home in Carthage, Tennessee. He was knelt beside the King-size bed which is father's lifeless body was laying on top of. Al's hands were folded as he prayed, and did his best to fight back tears. He flew from Washington without even telling President Clinton when his sister called Al and told him that his father had hours left to live. His dad died about thirty minutes before the Vice President made it to Carthage. His mother, sister, and some other relatives were grieving in the living room - they put on the State of The Union to comfort his mom, who enjoyed watching the news. Al told them that he'd stay with his dad until they returned. As his mind wandered from prayer, to memories of he and his dad from when he was younger, back to prayer, and then thoughts of never being able to see him again, his eyes started to water. "I'm sorry I couldn't make it back," he struggled to say as he put his hands in his face. He contemplated his own mortality, as well as that of his family and friends. He quietly wondered if he was actually praying to anyone, or if his thoughts were simply being made and then drifting into nothingness. He came to the same conclusion that he almost always did: Keep the faith.

There was a soft knock on the door that connected the bedroom to a hallway that led to the living-room. Al's sister, Nancy, was wearing a dark blue dress and was holding a remote control in her left hand.
"Al," she said, and then waited for her brother to acknowledge her. Al composed himself, cleared his throat, and then stood up and faced his sister.
"There's a problem with the television... Mother can't watch the State of The Union and she's getting upset again. Can you take a look?" she asked.
"Sure," he said. He took the remote from his sister and walked with her to the living room where his mother and a few other relatives were gathered. He aimed the remote at the TV, which was only showing static, and changed the channel a few times. Other channels lit up before he returned it to NBC, and the static was still there.

"I think that's a problem on their side," he said. "Not us."
Before he could conduct any further inspection, the static stopped and the television switched to a confused Tom Brokaw who was the anchor of "NBC Nightly News". He was holding his hand to his ear, and not looking directly into the camera.

"It seems that we're having some trouble with the feed coming from-... Wait..." Brokaw said as he pressed a bit harder on his earpiece and listened to his producer.
"Are you positive?" he asked, as if he wasn't on live television to a quarter of the country.

He looked into the camera and stated, "NBC can confirm that there has been an explosion of some kind in or near the Capitol Building, and that it has interrupted our feed to the House Chamber... We're trying to get word if anyone has been hurt," he said as he momentarily listed to his earpiece again.

"We're going to go live to one of our D.C. correspondents who is outside - Ronald, are you there?" he asked.

Half of the television screen switched to another camera. Whomever the cameraman was appeared to be running, as only his rapidly moving feet could be seen.
"Yeah okay, get ready! We're about to go live!" someone shouted, presumably to the cameraman.

The camera picked up to a NBC reporter who was standing near the U.S. Grant Memorial which was directly west of the Capitol Building, less than 800 feet from it. He wasn't wearing a jacket, despite it being cold. His tie was loose, and part of his white shirt was stained with blood. He pressed his fingertips to one of his ears and then looked at the camera.
"Get the wide shot!" he snapped at the cameraman.
"Ronald, can you hear us?" Brokaw asked.

"Yeah, yeah Tom I have you. We're - we're here, on the west side of the Capitol-" the reporter said.
"Ronald, is that blood? Are you okay?" Brokaw interrupted and asked.
"I um.. yeah, a piece of debris, I think it hit my ear... It's, it's not bad. I'm okay," he said as a bit of blood dripped down from his chin to his loose tie.

The camera man zoomed out so that the entire Capitol Building was in view. The southern section of it, which included the House Chamber where the State of The Union was suppose to be taking place, was ablaze with fire. The top section was ingulfed in flame and inky black smoke, but a careful observer may have been able to tell that most of the roof had caved in. Emergency vehicles already started surrounding it.

"Tom, I'm not sure how much longer they're going to let us stay right here, so bear with me..." he said as he collected his thoughts.
"Moments ago, there was a major explosion inside the Capitol Building, in the southern wing. If you look up now, you can see there is a lot of smoke in the air. It was very loud, I'm having a bit of trouble hearing right now," he said before clearing his throat.

"The scene is very bad here, Tom. The entire southern wing of the building is on fire as you can see - that is where the President and congress are. I... I'm at a loss for words, I think it's quite obvious our... our country has just been attacked," he said.
"The D.C. fire department is already here, and I think I can see some Capitol Police cars coming down Pennsylvania Avenue... I think we're going to have to go, Tom... This is Ronald Johnson, NBC, Washington," he said. Someone off-camera handed him a towel, which he applied to his bleeding ear and momentarily winced in pain before the camera panned in to give a better view of the burning building.

There was a pounding knock on the front door of the house before the head of Al's Secret Service detail, Special Agent Patrick West, opened it. He walked in with a couple of other agents who walked through the foyer and into the living room.
"Mister Vice President," Patrick said, "we've lost contact with the President's detail at the Capitol. We're going to lock down here and wait for our back-up in Nashville. Is anyone else suppose to be coming here tonight?" he asked.

"I- I don't think so. Did you ask them if the President made it out? Do they know?" Al asked in front of his family.
"Oh how awful!" his mother said as she clinched her pearl neckless and pointed at the TV.

"Sir, we're not sure yet. We just need to make sure that everyone here is safe. We're going to have to search the house and shutter all of the windows," he said. A few more agents came inside and started going throughout various rooms in the house.
"Sure, do whatever you need to do," Al said.
Patrick was about to say something else but pressed his hand against his ear and listened. He walked over to the light in the middle of the room and turned it off, and also switched off the TV. He removed his 9-milimeter service weapon from its holster and continued to listen to his earpiece.

"What the hell are you doing, Patrick?" Al asked. Patrick looked at Al and shook his head. Whomever had been talking on the other end stopped, "Everyone get down!" Patrick said as he himself knelt down onto the floor.
"One of the agents thinks they spotted a sniper," he said. He swiftly stayed down and moved over to one of the open doors in the room, and swung it shut. He listened to his earpiece some more, and then changed the channel on his radio.
"Cowboy-Actual to Rodeo," Patrick said.
"Ident, Cowboy-Actual," the other side responded.
"Foxtrot-November-Zulu, 3-2-2-1. Farmhouse is compromised, we need backup and an evac," he said.
"Copy Cowboy-Actual. A unit from Campbell is already on the way, ETA ten minutes. We also have agents inbound from Nashville, ETA twenty minutes. What's the status of Sundance?" the other side asked.

"Campbell" was in reference to Fort Campbell that was on the border of Tennessee and Kentucky. Patrick didn't know why they were getting an evacuation team from Fort Campbell - he could only assume that the White House had ordered the Army to go pick up the Vice President, who's Secret Service codename was "Sundance".

"Sundance is fine, but we're pretty vulnerable right now. Tell them to step it up. Over and out," Patrick concluded. Just as he did, everyone heard the loud crack of a rifle firing outside.

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STATE OF TENNESSEE
Somewhere Over The Cumberland River
February 4, 1997
9:58 P.M.

​

"This is Shadow-Actual, come in Cowboy, over," said Sergeant Major Robert "Rob" Lee. Four blackhawks were flying over 200 hundred miles per hour as the crossed the Cumberland River and passed over the small Tennessee town of Carthage.
"Cowboy-Actual here - we have multiple casualties and are taking heavy fire from multiple snipers!" yelled Special Agent West over his radio, "Sundance is secure, but they gotta have at least ten guys out there! Where the hell are you?!" he asked.
"Roger that Cowboy, we are ETA 60 seconds, coming in hot. Hold your fire so we can ID the hostiles... You might want to watch your head - over and out," he said.

The pilots of the blackhawks could see gunfire coming from a cornfield outside of the Vice President's family-home. Most of the lights inside of the residence had been extinguished, probably by the Secret Service. Two of the blackhawks landed on either edge of the southern end of the cornfield with the other two stayed in the air. Both of them had their gunners equipped, and started unleashing what must have seemed like the wrath of God onto the cornfield. Thousands of rounds with red-tracers cracked into the cornfield, some of them hitting their targets. The airborne blackhawks continued to provide cover-fire as the two Delta Force squads made their way through the cornfield with their thermal-vision goggles equipped. Only about forty rounds were shot by Delta Force before the enemy was reduced to seven dead and four still-living, but shot. All four quickly had their arms ziptied behind their backs. Sergeant Lee and part of his team tactically maneuvered to the front door of the farmhouse, which was riddled with bullet holes, and kept their weapons drawn. Sergeant Lee radioed in to the blackhawks in the sky and asked if they were in the clear. It was confirmed that they had taken down all of the hostile targets.

"Yeah, Cowboy-Actual," Sergeant Lee said as he crouched next to the front door, "it's all clear out here," he said.
The door to the farmhouse, which was riddled with bullet-holes, opened up with two armed Secret Service agents, one of which seemed to have been grazed by a bullet.

"Shadow?" called out Special Agent West.
"Howdy, Cowboy," Sergeant Lee said. "We managed to keep a few of these guys alive," he asked.

West looked around outside and observed the dead bodies of a handful of the snipers, as well as their tied up comrades next to them. "I have four agents down. Do you have any medics with you? The family is alright, but we need to get Sundance out," he said. "How many of my agents can you take?"

"Shadow-Actual to Angel, land in front. We have multiple friendly casualties down here. Over," Lee said into his radio. The medical helicopter copied back and prepared to land in front of the farmhouse.

"We can take care of anyone you have hurt, or take them to Nashville," Sergeant Lee said. "Are you FBI? Who did we just violate the Posse Comitatus Act for?" he asked.

"No," Agent West said, "we're Secret Service."

Al Gore tried to open what remained of the screen door on the front porch, but it just fell off its hinges and onto the ground. Sergeant Lee's normally relaxed body language tensed-up. He stood up at attention and saluted Gore, who was holding his suit jacket in his left hand.

Al assessed the situation and then looked at both Agent West and Sergeant Lee, "Who the hell were those guys? What's going on?" he asked.
Lee changed his posture to be at ease, "I don't know sir, but we managed to keep a few alive. I'm under orders directly from the Pentagon to take you to Washington. We can keep part of our team here to keep your family safe, and also to help anyone who was injured. But we are on the clock," he said.

"Does anyone have any news from Washington? Is President Clinton alright?" Al asked as he put on his suit jacket.
"We don't know sir," Agent West said, "Treasury just made it clear we need to get you back to Washington ASAP."
"My family is in there," Al said, "you make sure they're kept safe. And make sure my father isn't left alone," he said.
West pointed to a distant highway that could just barely be seen through the nightly fog. Dozens of red, white, and blue flashing lights could be seen. "And entire detachment of the Secret Service is here. This place is going to be a fortress. We need to go, Mister Vice President."

The helicopter which was carrying a medic team landed in front of the farmhouse while the second one landed not too far from the first. Sergeant Lee and his team escorted the Vice President on board, along with a handful of Secret Service Agents including Special Agent West. The medical helicopter stayed at the farmhouse, while the other three flew in formation.

They had two hours of flying ahead of them, so Al decided to make some small talk as they flew over the Appalachian Mountains.
"Are y'all CIA, FBI?" Gore asked to Sergeant West. His black combat uniform had no name tag and not even patches, except for a black and grey American-flag patch on his left shoulder - though if he was out of the country, he probably wouldn't even be wearing that.

"We're... Delta Force, Mister Vice President," Lee replied.
"They really sent me the best," he said with a brief smile, and then sat back in his seat. Al had broken a sweat, and was contemplating that the United States and Russia may already be in the middle of a chemical war.

About half way to Washington, the helicopters landed at a secret facility somewhere in the Appalachian Mountains to refuel. That was when the pilots got a secure message from Washington, which they passed on to Special Agent West.

West went back to his seat, next to the Vice President and across from Sergeant Lee. "Sir, Treasury just got back to us... President Clinton did not make it out, and no survivors have been found. The Secretary of State was the designated survivor - he's at the PEOC. Justice Thomas was absent from the State of The Union tonight, he's going to meet us at the White House.... Sir, you are now the President of the United States."

One of the pilots radioed in through a secure frequency they were using to communicate with Washington, "Be advised, Shadow-Halo is now changing callsign to Army 1."

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ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA
Over Arlington National Cemetery
February 5, 1997
12:30 A.M.

​

Army 1 and the other two accompanying blackhawks flew over Arlington National Cemetery and towards the Potomac River which separated the Commonwealth of Virginia and the District of Columbia. They were originally going directly to the White House, but Gore asked the pilot to go around the Washington Monument and do a flyby of the Capitol Building so that he could asses the damage from the air. The three helicopters did just that. Everyone on board the helicopters, even including the Delta Force operators, were baffled to see the physical representation of the American republic still on fire and crumbling on one side. The rotunda and main structure of the Capitol Building itself was intact, as well as the chamber for the Senate, but the House Chamber looked like it had just been hit by a cruise missile. Most of the lights in the structure were extinguished. The American flag was still flying above the building while hundreds of emergency vehicles with their flashing lights were surrounding the structure. Several tents were set up on Capitol Hill, presumably in use by the FBI, while helicopters with search lights were flying around the area. They flew close enough that Al Gore could see men crawling through the rubble that wasn't on fire, presumably to look for survivors. Soldiers, police, firefighters, and EMS were still arriving on scene. Everyone in the aircraft was quiet. The three helicopters turned to fly North-West.

"Army 1 to Castle," one of the pilots said, using the White House Complex's codename. "We are going for a landing on the South Lawn. We'll take it nice and slow, over."
"Copy that Army 1. We have eyes on you. The Secret Service will take over once you're on the ground. See you soon, over," said someone from the PEOC.

Army 1 landed on the South Lawn of the White House while the other two helicopters kept a safe distance away. Several dozen Secret Service agents were on the South Lawn, and snipers where on top of the Executive Mansion, keeping watch. The D.C. National Guard and D.C. Police had Pennsylvania Avenue and roads surrounding the White House blocked off. The entire city was shut down. Sergeant Lee left his rifle in the helicopter and opened one of the large sliding doors so Gore could get out. Sergeant Lee stepped outside, and saluted as Al Gore stepped onto the South Lawn. Gore returned the salute and shook Lee's hand, "Where are you going now?" Gore asked.

"We'll go help at the Capitol sir! Call us if you need any help!" he yelled. Gore nodded and then ducked as he ran under the blades and to a group of Secret Service agents who huddled around him. They were armed with pistols and outright automatic machine guns. Special Agent Lee followed behind the group and radioed in to the PEOC.

"Phoenix is secure," Agent West said, using Gore's new codename, "going into Castle now. Standby," he said as the group jogged to the entrance of the mansion.

White House staff were staring up at television screens as Al Gore and the Secret rushed past them. They went from the Executive Mansion, to the West Wing. Gore stepped into Oval Office where a dozen or so people were waiting, including Secretary of State Jackson Fitzgerald; the now-First Lady, Mary Gore; and the only living Supreme Court Justice, Clarence Thomas, who was wearing his black robe. He was holding a bible in his right hand. The justice was well-known for being exceptionally quiet and not asking questions in most Supreme Court sittings.

Gore briefly embraced his wife and asked about their kids, before standing in front of the Resolute Desk. He was joined by Justice Thomas who was holding a black book with gold lettering the spelled, "Holy Bible" on the front of it.
"Ma'am, if you'd please hold the bible," Justice Thomas said to Misses Gore. Mary positioned herself behind and between the two men, so that her back was facing the desk. Mary held the bible flat, and they both looked to Justice Thomas.
"Sir, please place your left hand on the bible, raise your right hand to God, and repeat after me" Thomas said.
Al followed his instructions as the White House photographer took dozens of pictures as the historic event took place.

"I, Albert Arnold Gore Jr. do solemnly swear,"
"I, Albert Arnold Gore Jr. do solemnly swear,"
"that I will faithfully execute"
"that I will faithfully execute"
"the office of President of The United States
"the office of President of The United States
"and will, to the best of my ability,"
"and will, to the best of my ability,"
"preserve, protect, and defend"
"preserve, protect, and defend"
"the Constitution of The United States."
"the Constitution of The United States."
"So help me, God," Gore added, as George Washington first did over 200 years before.

Justice Thomas extended his hand to Al, who took hold of it. "Mister President," Justice Thomas said as he firmly shook the President's hand.

Secretary Jackson Fitzgerald stepped forward and said, "Mister President, we need to get downstairs. There's some decisions that need to be made." Gore started walking with Fitzgerald. The President patted his younger-friend on the back and said, "I'm happy you made it, Jackson."
"Thank you, sir," Jackson responded. "I'm sorry about your father."
President Gore nodded and just said, "Well, we have work to do now."

President Gore kissed the First Lady, who was taken to a safe room in the Executive Mansion, commonly called "The Residence".

"Phoenix and Negotiator are going down, crash the West Wing," Special Agent West said as they walked into the elevator that went down to the Presidential Emergency Operations Center. The Secret Service "crashed" the West Wing of the White House by preventing anyone from moving between rooms or entering the structure. Agents were outside, heavily armed, and snipers were above the residence ready to pick off anyone trying to invade the grounds of the building. The People's Home was now a fortress.

 

[Odinson]

Private

WASHINGTON D.C.
House of The Temple
February 5, 1997
1:00 A.M.

​

Benjamin Valentine Sinclair walked out to the large stone steps of the House of The Temple. The building, which was the headquarters for the Southern Jurisdiction of The Scottish Rite, was located on 16th Street. It was a straight shot to the White House which was only a mile away. Sinclair was a giant of a man, standing at the same height as Abraham Lincoln. He walked with a cane, but had no visible limp. He looked up into the sky as white flakes of snow started to fall from the sky. In the distance, in the sky, he could see a towering column of black smoke in the air, and the white lights of helicopters flying around it.
"Mother of God," he muttered to himself in disbelief.

"Brother Sinclair, it's not safe out here," another man said from behind Sinclair. He too looked up at the column of smoke and stared for a few moments. "There's no use putting you in danger," the man continued.
"I've been hiding in here since 9:30, if anyone was coming for me they would have cracked my neck by now... No, I'm going to the White House," he said.
The other man, who was dressed as formally as Sinclair, let out a bit of a chuckle and pointed south, "It looks like they have everything past Scott Circle closed off. You wouldn't even make it to Lafayette Park," he noted.
Sinclair put on his leather gloves and brushed a bit of snow off the shoulders of his tuxedo jacket, "I called the Capitol Police. They didn't believe it was actually me calling, at first, believe it or not. They're going to give me some kind of escort, I hope."

Sinclair turned around and offered his hand to the man, "Give the rest of the Council my regards... duty calls," he said as his Brother shook his hand.
"Of course," the man said. Two Capitol Police cars pulled up with their emergency lights turned on in front of the temple. Sinclair started carefully making his way down the steps of the building, and walked past one of the two sphinxes that guarded the front flank of either side of the temple. A Capitol Police officer stepped out of his vehicle. He looked north and then south to make sure the area was clear, and then approached Sinclair.

"Sir, I'm Captain Miller, Capitol PD. We spoke over the phone. Let's get you inside, we can talk on the way," he said.
Sinclair stepped into the black, unmarked SUV that was part of the motorcade. Captain Miller joined him, along with another police officer. The motorcade took off and started heading south.

"Sir, I'm not sure if we'll be able to get you to the White House. Maybe we should take you to the Capitol?" Miller asked.
"You're the Capitol Police, why wouldn't you be able to get me past?" he asked, perplexed. The motorcade began to slow down as they approached Scott Circle.
"The National Guard has made a perimeter around the White House - I'm not in a position to tell them what to do, but we can try," he said.
Sinclair didn't say anything, but huffed. To Captain Miller, it sounded a lot like, "I don't have enough time for this shit."

As they pulled up to Scott Circle, several HUMVEEs and APCs were blocking the road, and a dozen D.C. National Guard were outside in combat gear, holding their automatic rifles.
"I'll go talk to them, sir. Lieutenant," said Captain Miller to the other officer in the vehicle, "you're with me."
The two officers stepped outside and approached the National Guard. An officer immediately stepped out from the soldiers and approached the two police officers. From Sinclair's point of view, it didn't look like the conversation was going to well.

"If you want something done right," he muttered to himself as he grabbed he black walking cane and opened the door.

"Like I said, sir, we are transporting a VIP, and we need to get him to the White House. You can call it in to our HQ, we're legit," Captain Miller said.
"Sir, my orders are to stop anyone other than the military and the President from crossing this perimeter. No exceptions, not even for PD," the Army officer said.

"Son, you're obstructing traffic. That's a $250 fine in The District," Sinclair said as from behind Captain Miller and the other police officer.
The Army officer, who Sinclair could see was a Major, was about to respond when he could sense his men tensing up behind him. The Major squinted his eyes at the tall old man in the tuxedo, and then noticed the Medal of Honor hanging just below Sinclair's bowtie. The Major snapped to attention, as did the enlisted soldiers behind him, and saluted Sinclair.

"Sir, we're under orders to not let anyone pass here," the Major responded.
"I'll show you my ID," Sinclair said, at first slowly motioning at his jacket. He carefully pulled out his wallet and took out his Maine Driver's License, as well as his Government ID Card. He handed them to the Major, who briefly looked over both.
"Major, I'm a United States Senator. Whomever is in charge at the White House is going to need me. Now you can pull out your sidearm and shoot me, or you can stand aside and let me through," Sinclair said.

"Sir," the Major said, "I can let you through, but not your escort," he said, looking at Captain Price and his partner. "We'll give you an escort to the White House," he said.
Sinclair nodded in agreement to the compromise. Two of the soldiers commandeered the SUV in the motorcade, and drove the Senator past half a dozen checkpoints to the White House, where the Secret Service had a man-to-man perimeter set up, as well as snipers on the roof of the residence. One of the White House gates opened up as the snow storm started to pick up. Five Secret Service agents with flashlights walked out to the vehicle, to verify the Senator's identify. They went with Sinclair, on foot, into the White House. He was allowed into the West Wing, where some of the White House staff were either on the phone or scrambling around. He finally had a television in front of him, and could see images of the House Chamber smoldering.

"Senator, I'm Silas Hawkins. We met last week at a lunchin-" a man said as he approached Sinclair.
"You're the Deputy Attorney General, of course I know you. How are you?" Sinclair said with a small smile, his eyes occasionally moving back to one of the televisions that were mounted to the wall.
"I'm okay sir. I'm about to head downstairs to go meet the President-" he said, before being cut off again.
"President Clinton is alright? Can I talk to him?" he asked.

"Oh," Silas said, before rubbing his face. "No sir... Vice President Gore was just sworn in, about thirty minutes ago. President Clinton didn't make it out... I'm sorry, Senator, I need to get going. Is there anything I can get you while I'm up here? I'll be sure to tell the President that you're in the West Wing."

Sinclair put his head down for a moment as he realized that Clinton was now dead, and then nodded. "Yes, can I have the Roosevelt Room?" he asked, in reference to a well-known large conference room in the West Wing.

"Of course Senator, it's yours," Hawkins said. He looked Sinclair in the eye, and shook his hand before heading out.

Senator Sinclair walked into the empty Roosevelt Room and sat down at the head of the table. There was a landline on the long desk, which he picked up. He made a secure phone call to a man he had become friends with in the past year. He greeted someone on the other end of the line and waited a few moments before he was connected.
"President Bush, sorry for bothering you so late... Yes, I'm fine... Well, I just appointed myself head of the committee to rebuild the United States Senate. The President's Club is at the top of my list," Sinclair said.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::


WASHINGTON D.C.
The White House
February 5, 1997
11:30 A.M.

​

The lights were off in the Oval Office as President Gore slept with his feet up on the resolute desk. Then the grandfather clock in the room chimed on the half-hour mark. Secretary of State Jackson Fitzgerald quietly walked in, and checked his watch just to be sure. He approached the President's desk.
"Mister President," he said. Al gore was deep in sleep, and didn't flinch.
Fitzgerald walked behind the desk, and patted Gore on the shoulder, "Sir, it's time to get up."
Gore jolted and opened his eyes. He cleared his throat, and checked his watch, "Sorry, what time is it? Are we running late?" the President asked.
"No sir, it's 11:30 in the morning. You asked to be waked up after thirty minutes... We need to let the camera crew in to set up for your address," The Secretary said. He could see Gore was clearly tired, but it only took fifteen seconds or so for the man to get back into the swing of things.

"Thank you, Jackson," The President said as he rubbed his face. He stood up, and put on his suit jacket which had been laying on the left side of the desk.
"There's a new suit waiting for you in the Residence... I'm told that the First Lady would like to see you, as well. If you can get back to the Oval in... twenty minutes, we should be set to go. There's nothing wrong with starting five or ten minutes late, the networks are going to expect that, and it'll give people more time to tune in," he said.
"Thanks again, Jackson," President Gore said as he walked off.

After the President left the Oval Office, the White House broadcast crew came into the room and set up lighting, sound, and of course a state of the art camera. The President's speech was already programed into a teleprompter, and all of the major networks were ready to carry the President's speech live.

Forty minutes later, at 12:10 P.M., President Gore was sitting behind the Resolute Desk after some makeup had been applied to him. Behind him was the flag of the president, and the flag of the United States. Secretary Fitzgerald, the First Lady, White House staffers, and Senator Sinclair were all in the room as the producer counted down to the President, who had his hands folded on the desk while he looked into the camera. 3, 2, 1 the producer motioned with his hands, and then a red bulb flicked on above the camera.


"My fellow Americans," Gore said. "Last night, our republic was attacked during one of our most cherished constitutional traditions. In an instant, hundreds of statesmen, leaders, warriors, and patriots, including President Clinton, died from the actions of a faceless coward. One of the most recognizable symbols of our republic was set ablaze. The perpetrators behind this attack obviously meant to totally destroy the Federal Government and to scare the American people into submission - they have failed.

"Last night and early this morning, deputy secretaries of federal departments and agencies met here in the White House so that we could coordinate our recovery, as well as finding those who are responsible and bringing them to justice. Moreover, the response from the American people has been more impressive than I could have imagined. Rescue workers and soldiers worked through the night in the rubble of the House Chamber - survivors from inside the South Wing were recovered, including at least a dozen congressional staffers and four Capitol Police officers. Everyone from the FBI, to NASA, to the Air Force and Army, as well as the D.C. fire and police departments have all helped at the Capitol Building. I have also been told that as of this morning, military recruitment centers from Florida to Alaska are overflowing with tens-of-thousands of young men and women who are ready to step forward and defend their country in its time of need. I have no worry we, the people, will get through this stronger and more determined than ever before.

"In order to restore the House of Representatives, special elections will be coordinated throughout the country in the coming months. It is my goal, however, to see to it that the Senate will be in session by the beginning of March. The Constitution permits state governments to appoint senators when vacancies arise. To help coordinate this plan, I will be talking to all of your governors later today. America's only surviving legislator, Senator Benjamin Sinclair from Maine, will join me in that phone call. Other survivors of last night's attack include Secretary of State Jackson Fitzgerald and Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas. It is with the help of these three men, and the hard working patriots in the federal departments and agencies, that we have been able to make so much progress in such a short amount of time.

"To our allies and friends around the world, I have this to say. The United States government is intact and in working order, and we are open for business. I appreciate the leaders and diplomats from our friends in Spain, Portugal, Canada, Poland, and Ireland who took the time to call and give their condolences. After speaking with the Secretary of State, I am sure that we have an international network of friends who will help us track down the guilty.

"We will bring those responsible to justice, we will restore the American congress, and we will rebuild the Capitol Building just as it was before... Keep strong, keep your faith, and remember to vote in the elections soon to come. May God bless our fallen friends, and may God bless the United States of America."