Fog covered the ocean and hid the rising sun. Stephen leaned on the catamaran’s rails as he sipped a steaming cup of joe. He wiggled his toes in his pink fuzzy slippers, and squeezed his robe closer as cold air blew across his neck. He didn’t notice as a ninja appeared from below deck.
The man took off his mask to reveal an eye patch and impressive facial scar. “Mr. President, we are nearing the rendezvous. The ship’s captain urges you to come below deck.”
“Nick, you don’t mind if I call you that, do you?–no reply–Nick, as director of OSCvER, did you ever imagine you were an experiment to enhance the human body? I mean, ‘Office for Simian-Vulpine Convergent Evolution Research’ sounds like a load of crap. You must have noticed the pills they slipped in your coffee. Makes me wonder why you were chosen.”
“Sir, I am a veteran of the Urtha Uprising. My platoon held off the savages until Terabithia sent reinforcements. I was the only survivor. I think I was chosen because I survive.”
“You sure it’s not because I need a bodyguard/secretary to assist me?” No reply.
The ship kept sailing, hedged in by an armada of stealth catamarans. The nation didn’t know where the president was, not even the Tribune. Everything had been planned, even the downfall of Colbert’s running mate and predecessor, ex-president O’Reilly. Now was the culminate of that planning. The President of Old Federalia was on a dual hull sail boat in the middle of the ocean in order to meet with the leaders of other nations.