Spirit of the Nation ★ Female America

10. War Hawk

February 16, 2003

United Nations Headquarters

New York City, United States

The fluorescent lights in the bathroom made the red lines in the whites of my eyes entirely obvious. I leaned my head back to apply more eye drops. They helped, but only slightly.

Stepping back, I stared at the puffy bags under my eyes. My black power suit starkly highlighted how pale my skin had become. My hair had also darkened from months on end spent indoors. Most days, I avoided looking at myself in the mirror.

I elbowed my way through the bathroom door. Just outside, someone was exiting the men's bathroom.

"Ah, USA."

We each gestured for the other to proceed and ended up in a brief stalemate.

Russia stepped into the hallway first, taking in my appearance with a sideways sweep of his eyes. "How are you?" he asked.

Falling into step with him, I folded my hands behind my back. "I'm fine. Ready for this to be put to rest."

"Weapons inspectors found nothing, da?"

"That's immaterial," I retorted. "Saddam Hussein has hidden weapons from the UN in the past. He's given us no reason to trust him."

"There is no evidence."

My temper flared. "We presented the evidence last week. What more do you need?"

I felt his eyes on me. "More than blurry satellite images."

I shot him a stern look. "Don't you realize these terrorists won't stop with the US?" I said with an edge. "Trust me, they're coming for you next."

He hummed pensively. "Seeking revenge for Gulf War won't stop terrorists."

I stopped dead in my tracks. "Excuse me?"

Russia stood there stone-faced. "Seeking—"

"Russie, there you are!"

He calmly glanced down the hall. "Ah, Frantsiya."

My eyes went to France like a hawk. I clenched my jaw as he joined us, with an angry reply dying on my lips. Judging by his reaction, it was written all over my face.

"Everything will be okay, Amérique," he said with a compassionate smile. "You will see."

Surprised, I nodded gratefully. I made eye contact with Russia, who awkwardly looked away.

In the General Assembly chamber, I sat behind Colin Powell and the rest of the American delegation. The other permanent members of the Security Council—the UK, France, Russia, and China—were seated nearby. Close enough that I could see the deep frown on England's face. Any vote from a veto-wielding Great Power would instantly kill the resolution to authorize the invasion.

After a brief preamble, the vote began.

I focused on the electronic board displaying the votes live. The first vote came from the UK—a green light in favor. The US naturally voted the same. My eyes darted to the Russian Federation, waiting for the little red light to illuminate. Instead, a red light appeared on the opposite side of the board.

I froze.

"France...?"

The staffers around me muttered amongst themselves. I gripped the armrests of my chair as the floor beneath my feet began to tilt and sway.

Germany's opposed vote quickly followed. Then Russia's. My eyes flickered across the board as nation after nation voted against us. Sound and color seemed to drain from the room.

"The vote is not unanimous. The resolution will not be put forth at this time."

I pushed through another door in hot pursuit of the French delegation. Concerned members of my staff rushed to keep up with me as I stormed down the hallway. As if sensing my presence, France turned at the very last second before I roughly shoved my hands into his chest. He stumbled backward.

"Putain, Marie!"

His people reacted immediately. France was swept away as a bodyguard grabbed my arm in a steely grip. The French ambassador barked something at him, and he released me. I took the opportunity to surge forward and attempt to smack France across the face. Multiple bodyguards pounced on me this time, and the ambassador allowed it with a resigned look in her eyes.

"How fucking could you?!" I yelled after him, jerking at the hands that restrained me.

He only watched me sadly.

Secret Service agents quickly extracted me from the French. One gently took my arm and urged me away. "Madam, please..."

My eyes were glued to the back of France's head. I stepped forward and pointed my finger as if I could physically send my voice to strike him. "I will never forget this," I growled maliciously.

His steps faltered.

"You French coward!"

~

A/N: Who do you think is right?

Putain | Fuck!