01-12-2021, 12:49 AM
Next door, the suited man sits calmly in the middle of the room. Both operatives stand watching
him quietly. He sighs, then clears his throat.
"Somebody gonna cut these?" he asks, raising his hands.
One of the men step forward and free him from the zip-ties. The man then removes the hood from his
own head. It's Edward Serling - The President of the United States of America.
"Are you OK sir?" the man asks him.
Serling is rubbing his wrists with a scowl.
"Not so tight next time." he scolded.
"Sorry sir." the man replied.
Serling walks over to view a small black and white monitor capturing a live feed of the next room.
"Guess it's showtime." he said.
He walks into the hall followed by the two operatives. Now standing in front of the adjacent room, he beats
his fist twice on the door and one of the men inside opens up. He walks in to see his confused subordinate.
"Edward?" McCarthy says in surprize.
Serling looks down at his one-time friend with a smirk.
"How are they treating you here?" he asked.
The second-in-command glares up at the man no longer behind the curtain.
"You sorry son of a bitch! This is you?" he questioned angrily.
Serling laughs to himself, turns and takes a few paces.
"I'm only doing what needs to be done." he said with his back to him.
"This is worse than treason!" McCarthy yelled.
Serling whipped around pointing a .357 magnum at his now demoted second-in-charge.
"You were never cut out for this line of work." he said just before putting a bullet between the Vice
President's eyes.
Blood and bone fragments now adorned the block wall behind the ex-VP. Serling looks on proudly, handing
the gun to the van driver who now stood beside him.
"Take care of this. We leave in thirty." he said and then walked from the room.
It was all downhill now.
him quietly. He sighs, then clears his throat.
"Somebody gonna cut these?" he asks, raising his hands.
One of the men step forward and free him from the zip-ties. The man then removes the hood from his
own head. It's Edward Serling - The President of the United States of America.
"Are you OK sir?" the man asks him.
Serling is rubbing his wrists with a scowl.
"Not so tight next time." he scolded.
"Sorry sir." the man replied.
Serling walks over to view a small black and white monitor capturing a live feed of the next room.
"Guess it's showtime." he said.
He walks into the hall followed by the two operatives. Now standing in front of the adjacent room, he beats
his fist twice on the door and one of the men inside opens up. He walks in to see his confused subordinate.
"Edward?" McCarthy says in surprize.
Serling looks down at his one-time friend with a smirk.
"How are they treating you here?" he asked.
The second-in-command glares up at the man no longer behind the curtain.
"You sorry son of a bitch! This is you?" he questioned angrily.
Serling laughs to himself, turns and takes a few paces.
"I'm only doing what needs to be done." he said with his back to him.
"This is worse than treason!" McCarthy yelled.
Serling whipped around pointing a .357 magnum at his now demoted second-in-charge.
"You were never cut out for this line of work." he said just before putting a bullet between the Vice
President's eyes.
Blood and bone fragments now adorned the block wall behind the ex-VP. Serling looks on proudly, handing
the gun to the van driver who now stood beside him.
"Take care of this. We leave in thirty." he said and then walked from the room.
It was all downhill now.
