The Art Of Politics

Chapter 5 : Compromised

"How the hell did you have dossiers on us Madam Vice President?" Mike Fox, the director of the CIA asked in shock. When the director returned we told him everything, about the files, about the code word The Darkest Hour. He is really pissed off now, me, a mere S.H.I.E.L.D. agent that time, had managed to compile files and files of the national threats that can bring the world to its knees. "And I thought that you're just a naive girl that knows little of what's at stake." I laughed in response.

"Tell me then Director Fox: what were you doing at 12 A.M.?" I questioned.

"I had a phone call, from a woman wearing a voice disguise. She told me about The Darkest Hour, compiled by an agent calling herself Agent Raven."

"And?"

"That woman knows what she is doing. We couldn't trace the call, nor that we can call back."

"That was me," I said, leaning back confidently at the chair. "I am Agent Raven, the deputy director of S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Holy Shit!" The director yelled in respond. "Shit, shit, shit."

"Mike Fox, the legendary director of the CIA, got tricked by a woman younger than him," I said in amusement. "How's that for a change?" Dad was laughing at his seat, amused by his boastful director of the CIA's reactions when I revealed my true identity to him.

"S... sorry, Madam Vice President." He said, sweat pouring down his forehead. "I.. didn't..."

"I warned you before Mike, my daughter is a tough cookie. She can kick your ass with two moves without breaking a sweat."

"But... but..."

"No buts, you can stay put while my dad and I have world leaders to contact with," I said. We left the distraught director alone and headed to the Oval Office.

"That was impressive," Dad said as we walked down together to the Oval Office.

"I should warn you, dad, there are more of them, not just the ones on my files, there are groups who were backed by dictators."

"And they have their identity hush-hush." He pointed out.

"How many cities were attacked the same time the Washington Monument goes up in flames?"

"London, Moscow, Tokyo, Ottawa, Berlin."

"I guess that we're going to have a field day with this," I said. "And the White House is still on lockdown?"

"For the time being? I'm afraid so. The Secret Service won't let us even leave the compound without protection." He said. "Sorry, even though I could use a glass of whiskey with ice now."

"I'd rather have a cold brew latte," I said. "Not a drinker." Before we can reach the office we heard the sound of gunfire outside the building. "What-?" Before I can finish my sentence I'm already reacting to my agent instincts and drew a gun hidden beneath the table outside the Oval Office. "Stay behind me sir," I said, reverting to my guard position. Cocking my gun I aimed at the hallway in front of us.

"The White House is compromised," Dad whispered. "We have to move out."

"Not until we neutralize them. Can you fight?"

"Firing a gun or..."

"I mean kicking ass," I said. "Aren't you Lieutenant Jeffery Christian Reagan?"

"Give me a gun agent." I slipped my hand into a vase and took out a Glock, giving the gun to him.

"I'm only permitting you to use it this time, no exceptions for future cases." The hallway was silent for a couple of minutes then a smoke grenade rolled in. I held my breath as smoke leaked out of the tin container like a deflating balloon. "Give me your hand Mr President." Ensuring that we have gripped arms I walked behind him, my gun still pointing the direction ahead of us. Then footsteps were heard, all of which I don't believe that were Secret Service agents. I heard Arabic and fired a warning shot. A body thumped to the ground, wearing military gear with an AK-47 beside him. I continued advancing, firing shots while still keeping an eye on dad. I wasn't happy about it, then the smoke cleared. Men, terrorists, for real, occupied and blocked our way of escape. "Shit." I cursed.

They aimed their AKs at us, unmoving and determined to off us both no matter what. Dad stared at them, fearless and knowing that we're going to die honourably. They must've known a way in, nearly trying to assassinate the both of us. Then I heard a shot, not dad, not me. One of them fell face-first on the ground. "Secret Service! Step away from the president and vice president!" Agent Barrowman shouted. I held the gun tight as the Secret Service burst out from the room, flanking us from all sides and separating us from the suspected militants. They had all their weapons trained on them, ready to fire. "Get them out of here agents." He gave out the order. The agents dragged us away from the group and shuts us in the Oval Office.

"Are you hurt? Are you hurt?" The agent frantically asked, running his hands up and down dad's body for any wounds.

"I'm fine, you okay Isa?"

"Fine, considering that I have killed a terrorist," I said. "I'm fine."

"Who the hell hacked into our systems?" Dad asked me.

"Sorry, do I look like I know?" I questioned. "No, but the White House, is not safe," I said. "We have to move out."

"I know a place," Dad said. "And we've got to be out of Washington, D.C."

"With all due respect sir..."

"If you do want us both safe, you're gonna have to keep a low profile, limit the convoy to one." He said. "Unless you want whoever is behind this blow us up sky high."

"No, sir." He said.

"Get us back to the private residence." Dad said. "No convoys."

"Yes, Mr. President."