Oh man, every time I get busy with stuff I forget about this. Alright, I'll get something done next week some time. Not promising anything, though. If you want, contact my boss and tell her to stop giving me so much work. I don't have time to slack off any more.
Hail Caesar
- Thread starter zeeterus
- Start date
what's your boss' number?
amirsan
King of all Kings
wow, I have skimmed through the thread (without reading the story) and I see so many loving it. But 128+ pages sounds alot, why dont you publish this, its long enough, I would buy it (I cant stay on the computer screen too long, it hurts my vision).
btw, I got this link from my recent thread that I posted "Most Memorable Stories".
btw, I got this link from my recent thread that I posted "Most Memorable Stories".
amirsan
King of all Kings
yup. I was hoping to print this story out.... but 200 pages is too much ink...
Antony listened in on the conference call between Rameses, Tut, and Cleopatra. Things weren't going well. While they had finally captured Caesaria, it was at heavy cost. Now more problems were cropping up.
First, the Romans were beating down the doors, trying to take back the city. They were moving slowly; to his credit, Octavian was not using any form of bombardment on the Egyptians so that the Roman people would remain safe. He was performing precision strikes on select military targets, but it would take more than these to flush out the Egyptians.
The only way for the Romans to take back the city was to move street by street and take out the Egyptian fighters. This was difficult in that Caesaria was the most integrated city in the world. People of all walks of life lived there, making enemy identification difficult.
Antony wondered why Cleopatra felt that the Roman counterattack was only a "minor setback." It was unexpected, and overwhelming. Yet Cleopatra was unconcerned. Knowing the Queen, however, Antony felt that she probably had another plan in the works that he was not privy to.
The second problem that the Egyptians had encountered was that the harbor in Caesaria was not being worked on. The materials were available. The pipeline to the uranium was built. Yet none of the contractors in the city had bid on the contract. This was most alarming, yet once again Cleopatra was unconcerned.
"Cleopatra, I can go up to Caesaria and get that harbor built in no time. Those are my people. They'll respond to me," Antony offered.
Antony saw the Queen look to her advisers for a moment before answering. "Do you think that is wise?" she said finally.
"Sure, just get me a flight up there. The Caesarians will certainly welcome me."
"I'm not worried about the Caesarians, Marcus. I'm worried about the Roman troops. They'll be gunning for you. If we were to lose the city you'll be hunted down by Octavian."
This was a bit alarming. "You don't expect to lose the city, do you?" he asked.
Tut responded over the conference phone. "We are holding out for now, and should be able to wear down the Roman attack over the next few days."
Rameses didn't quite agree. "General Tut is optimistic. Every day we lose another block. We need reinforcements here quickly."
"You'll get help soon enough," Cleopatra quickly cut him off.
Antony could hear mumbling from the conference phone, then he heard something else. It sounded like Rameses, but he couldn't be sure. It sounded like he shouted "Antony..." but the conference phone disconnected and they were left with a dial tone.
"What was that?" he asked the Queen.
"I...I don't know. Probably just a communications problem," answered Cleopatra. She quickly began to speak with her advisers while Antony was left to wonder about the call.
Something just didn't seem right. Rameses was upset about something, yet Cleopatra wasn't too concerned about reconnecting the conference call. The advisers that the Queen was speaking with seemed to be talking in generalizations, as if they were hiding something.
Indeed, as he stood to leave several of Cleopatra's advisers silently watched him exit the room as if they were waiting for him to leave.
------------------------------------------------
Santa Ana was a patient man. He stood before the greatest achievement in Aztec history today and marveled at it's wonders. At one time people from all of Mexico came to the Hanging gardens. They stood in awe of it. Even today, years after its construction children came to toss their coins into the fountains at the bottom. Some people came to cut branches off of the plants in order to grow their own piece of this wonder.
Parts of the Hanging Gardens were growing throughout Mexico. Growing with them was a feeling of rebellion. Nobody had yet stood up and raised a fist, yet the first rumblings could be heard amongst the people. Some bold reports had commented on it, yet these men disappeared quickly. Santa Ana had to be careful. It was his patience that made him a General. He waited until the moment of decision before acting rather than forcing matters. Some called him passive-aggressive, yet patient was really the best moniker for him.
Slowly, two hooded men came toward him. The general looked at his watch. They were on time. Good. This meant that they weren't too eager.
Atahualpa removed his hood first. "Are you sure that this is a safe place to meet?" he asked.
"Yes," replied Santa Ana. The hanging gardens were a quiet place. Other than the sounds of children running about near the fountains the place was virtually deserted. "Is this him?"
The other hooded man looked to Atahualpa for a moment, then looked back to Santa Ana as he removed his hood.
"Good morning, General," the man said. "I am Huascar."
Interesting, thought Santa Ana. He didn't introduce himself as leader of the Incas. The man was humble. His eyes were hollow, and he was as thin as a rail. Santa Ana now understood the robes. Huascar was as white as a ghost. Interesting, considering that just about everyone from this continent had a dark tan.
Santa Ana was not blind. He looked at Atahualpa with disgust. How could he keep his own brother locked away like this for so long? Atahualpa truly was a coward.
Atahualpa returned the general's glare at first, then looked away, then at his own feet. He was ashamed of his own cowardice, and he should be, thought Santa Ana.
"Huascar," asked the general, "has Atahualpa explained the situation to you?"
"Yes. My brother explained to me that you want to lead a revolt."
"Well, not exactly. We need change. This country is divided now. The Aztecs hate the Incas, and vice-verse."
"You'd be surprised, General," replied Huascar. "The Incas are a forgiving people. Perhaps you should reassess your view of my people."
"I've seen enough. Production under your former king was immense. Under Montezuma your lands have become the most corrupt in the world."
"My lands are not corrupt, General," Huascar shot back. The Aztecs that you placed in command here are corrupt. He looked quickly at Atahualpa. "Although they are not alone in their misdeeds," he added.
Again, Atahualpa lowered his head in shame. Santa Ana wondered what this was all about, but there was no time for that.
"Then will your people respond favorably to a unified Mexico? Can Aztecs and Incas live together?"
Huascar looked Santa Ana in the eye. "When our people were conquered, Montezuma placed the government of all of Mexico in the hands of Aztecs. Incas were shut out. Integrate the government then my people and your people will become our people."
Santa Ana was not expecting this. He had expected a bitter man bent on revenge. He had expected to explain to Huascar why revenge would not work. Why he had to forgive Montezuma's actions, if not the man himself.
Instead, he met a thoughtful man who understood that revenge was not the answer to anything. Santa Ana had made the right decision.
"Huascar, I represent the military, but not the military police. They are under the control of Montezuma. It is a unit designed to keep the military in check. I cannot actively back you at first, yet I can promise you that my men will not look very hard for you. You must get the Inca people to follow you, which, after meeting you, I don't think will be difficult. You must convince them that the Aztecs are not their enemy, but that Montezuma and the military police are. You must do this before the police can find you."
"I will do my best, General," replied Huascar.
---------------------------------------------
First, the Romans were beating down the doors, trying to take back the city. They were moving slowly; to his credit, Octavian was not using any form of bombardment on the Egyptians so that the Roman people would remain safe. He was performing precision strikes on select military targets, but it would take more than these to flush out the Egyptians.
The only way for the Romans to take back the city was to move street by street and take out the Egyptian fighters. This was difficult in that Caesaria was the most integrated city in the world. People of all walks of life lived there, making enemy identification difficult.
Antony wondered why Cleopatra felt that the Roman counterattack was only a "minor setback." It was unexpected, and overwhelming. Yet Cleopatra was unconcerned. Knowing the Queen, however, Antony felt that she probably had another plan in the works that he was not privy to.
The second problem that the Egyptians had encountered was that the harbor in Caesaria was not being worked on. The materials were available. The pipeline to the uranium was built. Yet none of the contractors in the city had bid on the contract. This was most alarming, yet once again Cleopatra was unconcerned.
"Cleopatra, I can go up to Caesaria and get that harbor built in no time. Those are my people. They'll respond to me," Antony offered.
Antony saw the Queen look to her advisers for a moment before answering. "Do you think that is wise?" she said finally.
"Sure, just get me a flight up there. The Caesarians will certainly welcome me."
"I'm not worried about the Caesarians, Marcus. I'm worried about the Roman troops. They'll be gunning for you. If we were to lose the city you'll be hunted down by Octavian."
This was a bit alarming. "You don't expect to lose the city, do you?" he asked.
Tut responded over the conference phone. "We are holding out for now, and should be able to wear down the Roman attack over the next few days."
Rameses didn't quite agree. "General Tut is optimistic. Every day we lose another block. We need reinforcements here quickly."
"You'll get help soon enough," Cleopatra quickly cut him off.
Antony could hear mumbling from the conference phone, then he heard something else. It sounded like Rameses, but he couldn't be sure. It sounded like he shouted "Antony..." but the conference phone disconnected and they were left with a dial tone.
"What was that?" he asked the Queen.
"I...I don't know. Probably just a communications problem," answered Cleopatra. She quickly began to speak with her advisers while Antony was left to wonder about the call.
Something just didn't seem right. Rameses was upset about something, yet Cleopatra wasn't too concerned about reconnecting the conference call. The advisers that the Queen was speaking with seemed to be talking in generalizations, as if they were hiding something.
Indeed, as he stood to leave several of Cleopatra's advisers silently watched him exit the room as if they were waiting for him to leave.
------------------------------------------------
Santa Ana was a patient man. He stood before the greatest achievement in Aztec history today and marveled at it's wonders. At one time people from all of Mexico came to the Hanging gardens. They stood in awe of it. Even today, years after its construction children came to toss their coins into the fountains at the bottom. Some people came to cut branches off of the plants in order to grow their own piece of this wonder.
Parts of the Hanging Gardens were growing throughout Mexico. Growing with them was a feeling of rebellion. Nobody had yet stood up and raised a fist, yet the first rumblings could be heard amongst the people. Some bold reports had commented on it, yet these men disappeared quickly. Santa Ana had to be careful. It was his patience that made him a General. He waited until the moment of decision before acting rather than forcing matters. Some called him passive-aggressive, yet patient was really the best moniker for him.
Slowly, two hooded men came toward him. The general looked at his watch. They were on time. Good. This meant that they weren't too eager.
Atahualpa removed his hood first. "Are you sure that this is a safe place to meet?" he asked.
"Yes," replied Santa Ana. The hanging gardens were a quiet place. Other than the sounds of children running about near the fountains the place was virtually deserted. "Is this him?"
The other hooded man looked to Atahualpa for a moment, then looked back to Santa Ana as he removed his hood.
"Good morning, General," the man said. "I am Huascar."
Interesting, thought Santa Ana. He didn't introduce himself as leader of the Incas. The man was humble. His eyes were hollow, and he was as thin as a rail. Santa Ana now understood the robes. Huascar was as white as a ghost. Interesting, considering that just about everyone from this continent had a dark tan.
Santa Ana was not blind. He looked at Atahualpa with disgust. How could he keep his own brother locked away like this for so long? Atahualpa truly was a coward.
Atahualpa returned the general's glare at first, then looked away, then at his own feet. He was ashamed of his own cowardice, and he should be, thought Santa Ana.
"Huascar," asked the general, "has Atahualpa explained the situation to you?"
"Yes. My brother explained to me that you want to lead a revolt."
"Well, not exactly. We need change. This country is divided now. The Aztecs hate the Incas, and vice-verse."
"You'd be surprised, General," replied Huascar. "The Incas are a forgiving people. Perhaps you should reassess your view of my people."
"I've seen enough. Production under your former king was immense. Under Montezuma your lands have become the most corrupt in the world."
"My lands are not corrupt, General," Huascar shot back. The Aztecs that you placed in command here are corrupt. He looked quickly at Atahualpa. "Although they are not alone in their misdeeds," he added.
Again, Atahualpa lowered his head in shame. Santa Ana wondered what this was all about, but there was no time for that.
"Then will your people respond favorably to a unified Mexico? Can Aztecs and Incas live together?"
Huascar looked Santa Ana in the eye. "When our people were conquered, Montezuma placed the government of all of Mexico in the hands of Aztecs. Incas were shut out. Integrate the government then my people and your people will become our people."
Santa Ana was not expecting this. He had expected a bitter man bent on revenge. He had expected to explain to Huascar why revenge would not work. Why he had to forgive Montezuma's actions, if not the man himself.
Instead, he met a thoughtful man who understood that revenge was not the answer to anything. Santa Ana had made the right decision.
"Huascar, I represent the military, but not the military police. They are under the control of Montezuma. It is a unit designed to keep the military in check. I cannot actively back you at first, yet I can promise you that my men will not look very hard for you. You must get the Inca people to follow you, which, after meeting you, I don't think will be difficult. You must convince them that the Aztecs are not their enemy, but that Montezuma and the military police are. You must do this before the police can find you."
"I will do my best, General," replied Huascar.
---------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------
Shepard Smith apeared on Octavian's television. It was time for the "FOX Report." Octavian of course knew the latest from Caesaria, but he wanted to get the world's reaction to this. It was a sad, sad day for Rome.
"We're looking live at Caesaria Harbor tonight," Smith started out. "The queen has done it - but at what cost?"
Quickly the scene changed to a shot of a bulldozer on the outskirts of the city. "Here under this dirt is what American intelligence believes to be a mass grave of Romans," Smith continued. "It has been suggested that this grave contains many of the Caesarian leaders who led the revolt against the occupying Egyptians."
Octavian couldn't watch anymore. It was attrocious, what the queen had done. All for Uranium. She knew that as soon as that harbor went up he would bomb it. Cleopatra wanted the harbor just long enough to get one ship in there.
"I wouldn't be surprised if she abandons the Northern Province all together now," commented Lepidus.
Octavian agreed. The Northern Province had one advantage - its proximity to the Americans. However it was not worth the cost in defending to the Egyptians.
"When do you think she will pull out?"
"Any day now. She probably won't even rebuild the harbor once we destroy it."
"We need to hit her hard," said Lepidus. "With everything we've got. Will you give the order?"
Octavian knew that Lepidus didn't mean the order to attack. He meant the other order. "Not yet," he replied. "We've already got troops on the way, but they'll never get there in time. We've got more pressing matters, now."
"The Americans?" asked Lepidus.
"We have to convince them not to call for a nuclear strike."
"How will we do that?"
Octavian was thoughtful. "It won't be easy. Roosevelt is mad."
"Can you convince him?"
"I have a plan," said Octavian. "Call the ambassador."
---------------------------------------
Marcus Antony did not care that he was breaking up Cleopatra's high level meeting. He didn't care that the tears on his face hadn't dried yet. He didn't care what the ramifications were at this point.
He opened the door to the Queen's war room. "You killed them!" he shouted at her. "They wouldn't build your harbor, so you killed them!"
"Marcus, we need to discuss this outside," Cleopatra responded. Antony cut her off.
"I could have built the harbor for you. You could have had Caesaria and all the Uranium you needed. You didn't have to kill my people."
Antony had now moved nearer to Cleopatra. He watched as two of the queen's guards approached. She looked at them for a moment and they stopped. Antony would have his say, it seemed.
"You used me. You used my people. Worst of all, I trusted you."
Cleopatra chuckled. "Ha. You should know by now, Antony. You cannot trust anyone. You trusted Octavian, and look where that got you."
"I should have listened to Octavian. I always thought that he was only trying to keep Egypt weak, yet now I know. He understands you better than I do. All this time he was telling me the truth, but I trusted you, instead!" He was now shouting at the Queen. Antony didn't care, though. At this point he didn't care what happened to him. Aparently the queen cared, though, as he was quickly restrained by Cleopatra's guards.
As the guards held him, Cleopatra calmly walked up to Antony. "If it means the death of a few of your people to ensure the safety of my people, then so be it. I did what I had to do, and I would do it again."
Antony could not contain his anger. "You cold hearted bi***."
The queen looked him in the eye, then spit in his face. "That is what I think of your people." She looked to her guards. "Take him away."
"What shall we do with him?" one of the guards asked.
"I care not."
--------------------------------------------------------
Shepard Smith apeared on Octavian's television. It was time for the "FOX Report." Octavian of course knew the latest from Caesaria, but he wanted to get the world's reaction to this. It was a sad, sad day for Rome.
"We're looking live at Caesaria Harbor tonight," Smith started out. "The queen has done it - but at what cost?"
Quickly the scene changed to a shot of a bulldozer on the outskirts of the city. "Here under this dirt is what American intelligence believes to be a mass grave of Romans," Smith continued. "It has been suggested that this grave contains many of the Caesarian leaders who led the revolt against the occupying Egyptians."
Octavian couldn't watch anymore. It was attrocious, what the queen had done. All for Uranium. She knew that as soon as that harbor went up he would bomb it. Cleopatra wanted the harbor just long enough to get one ship in there.
"I wouldn't be surprised if she abandons the Northern Province all together now," commented Lepidus.
Octavian agreed. The Northern Province had one advantage - its proximity to the Americans. However it was not worth the cost in defending to the Egyptians.
"When do you think she will pull out?"
"Any day now. She probably won't even rebuild the harbor once we destroy it."
"We need to hit her hard," said Lepidus. "With everything we've got. Will you give the order?"
Octavian knew that Lepidus didn't mean the order to attack. He meant the other order. "Not yet," he replied. "We've already got troops on the way, but they'll never get there in time. We've got more pressing matters, now."
"The Americans?" asked Lepidus.
"We have to convince them not to call for a nuclear strike."
"How will we do that?"
Octavian was thoughtful. "It won't be easy. Roosevelt is mad."
"Can you convince him?"
"I have a plan," said Octavian. "Call the ambassador."
---------------------------------------
Marcus Antony did not care that he was breaking up Cleopatra's high level meeting. He didn't care that the tears on his face hadn't dried yet. He didn't care what the ramifications were at this point.
He opened the door to the Queen's war room. "You killed them!" he shouted at her. "They wouldn't build your harbor, so you killed them!"
"Marcus, we need to discuss this outside," Cleopatra responded. Antony cut her off.
"I could have built the harbor for you. You could have had Caesaria and all the Uranium you needed. You didn't have to kill my people."
Antony had now moved nearer to Cleopatra. He watched as two of the queen's guards approached. She looked at them for a moment and they stopped. Antony would have his say, it seemed.
"You used me. You used my people. Worst of all, I trusted you."
Cleopatra chuckled. "Ha. You should know by now, Antony. You cannot trust anyone. You trusted Octavian, and look where that got you."
"I should have listened to Octavian. I always thought that he was only trying to keep Egypt weak, yet now I know. He understands you better than I do. All this time he was telling me the truth, but I trusted you, instead!" He was now shouting at the Queen. Antony didn't care, though. At this point he didn't care what happened to him. Aparently the queen cared, though, as he was quickly restrained by Cleopatra's guards.
As the guards held him, Cleopatra calmly walked up to Antony. "If it means the death of a few of your people to ensure the safety of my people, then so be it. I did what I had to do, and I would do it again."
Antony could not contain his anger. "You cold hearted bi***."
The queen looked him in the eye, then spit in his face. "That is what I think of your people." She looked to her guards. "Take him away."
"What shall we do with him?" one of the guards asked.
"I care not."
--------------------------------------------------------
silver 2039
Deity
- Joined
- Jul 26, 2003
- Messages
- 16,208
Yay! Zeeter write again!
Agent Sands watched the town square. The man entertaining the children with his guitar was of great interst to him. He was no ordinary musician. The smile he wore now belayed his darker side. He had a past.
Sands had traveled throughout Mexico looking for this man. Watching him over these last few days, he got to know the man known only as El Mariachi. They had not yet spoken, in fact, Sands had remained hidden as he watched El Mariachi move about the town.
Soon he would make contact. How would the man react? Sands didn't know. He just knew that Dr. Ryan had given him his orders, and he found the best man that there was to pull off this job. Getting him to do it was another matter. From what he'd heard, though, there was a bit of leverage that he could use.
"Hey! Gringo! You've got a phone call!" came a voice from the back of the restaurant.
"Ci, Senor," answered Sands. The phone was in the back near the restrooms. Or, at least, what the Mexicans called the restrooms. Really, it was just a dirty sink.
"Hola," he said into the phone. Leaning back, he could barely see El Mariachi from this vantagepoint.
"Hola, How's it going?" It was Ryan. No doubt wondering what was taking so long. Ryan had an analyst background, not an agent's. In this capacity he was quite annoying.
"These things take time, Jack." Ryan hated when his agent's didn't call him Dr. Ryan, and Sands knew it.
"Well, the President's staff is quite busy right now, so they've forgotten about you. But I haven't."
Yeah, of course you haven't, thought Sands. "Jack, I'm working on a lot of things right now. I should have news for you by the end of the week."
"Not good enough, Sands."
"Jack, you always were impatient."
"The longer that you stay in Mexico, the more Mexicans you are going to kill. Don't let this turn out like Zululand."
"It won't. I've got things under control here. I haven't killed anybody for three days," Sands replied, mockingly. "Jack, this is a restaurant phone."
Silence for a moment. Finally, "nobody knows where you are. They wouldn't be listening."
"You're probably right, Jack. But let me remind you that you're not an agent. You don't think like an agent. Best you talk to one before calling me next time." Sands hung up the phone. It was no big deal, he just liked yanking Ryan's chain.
As he walked into the "restroom", Sands decided that it was time to make contact. It wouldn't be easy. He couldn't just walk up to the guy and introduce himself by saying "hi, I'm from the CIA."
This guy could be nervous, he thought. And another thing struck him. Ryan said "They wouldn't be listening." He should have caught this right away. Who wouldn't be listening? As far as he knew, Sands was performing a proaction - not a reaction. What didn't he know? As he opened the door to leave the bathroom he was greeted by the nuzzle of pistol.
"Why is the CIA following me?"
---------------------------------------------
It wasn't the fact that Cleopatra betrayed him. It wasn't her apparent disdain for him. What upset Antony the most was her blatent disregard for his people. All along, he thought that she was the most important thing in his life. He was wrong though.
Antony knew now that it was the Romans whom he cherished the most. They weren't Caesarians. They were Romans. This was something that he had forgotten. He would remember that now. For whatever time he had left he would remember. And he would go out fighting, given the chance.
Antony was being escorted down a long hallway out of the palace in Alexandria. As he walked, he reflected on what had happened. Was Octavian right all along? He had always thought that the young man was simply jealous. Cleopatra had chosen him over Caesar's prodigy.
Antony had tried to maintain the type of relationship that Caesar had had with her, but it never worked out that way. While Caesar had called the shots, with Antony, Cleopatra called them. Why hadn't he seen this?
His escorts opened a door. Inside was an apparent holding cell. They thrust him into it. Undaunted, Antony spoke.
"Whether here or in Hell, I will have the Queen's head for this."
The guards chuckled, then turned suddenly. Behind them were two men. Two thuds later, and the guards were on the ground.
"Come, Emperor," one of the men said, gesturing him to come out. He looked vaguely familiar.
"Who are you?"
"We don't have much time," said the man. The two men began to carry the bodies into the holding cell.
"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me who you are!" demanded Antony.
Finally, one of the men looked up. "We've got to get out of here. There is a way down the back stairs. We weren't noticed coming in, but we will be going out. Especially with you tagging along. You can wait here if you want, but they'll kill you. Or, you can come with us, and we'll protect you."
The other man spoke. "Look, if we were going to kill you we'd have done it by now. If it makes you feel better, my name is Paulie and that's Sylvio," he said, pointing to the other man. "Now let's get out of here."
The familiar face was coming to him. These men were criminals. If he hadn't spent so much time away from Rome he's have noticed the mob boss' henchmen right away.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"To Rome," answered Sylvio.
Rome, thought Antony. What fate awaited him there? Octavian would have his vengeance. But what choice did he have? Paulie gave him one of the guard's pistols.
"Here. Either kill or be killed," he said.
"Just one thing. Don't shoot us," added Sylvio.
Sands had traveled throughout Mexico looking for this man. Watching him over these last few days, he got to know the man known only as El Mariachi. They had not yet spoken, in fact, Sands had remained hidden as he watched El Mariachi move about the town.
Soon he would make contact. How would the man react? Sands didn't know. He just knew that Dr. Ryan had given him his orders, and he found the best man that there was to pull off this job. Getting him to do it was another matter. From what he'd heard, though, there was a bit of leverage that he could use.
"Hey! Gringo! You've got a phone call!" came a voice from the back of the restaurant.
"Ci, Senor," answered Sands. The phone was in the back near the restrooms. Or, at least, what the Mexicans called the restrooms. Really, it was just a dirty sink.
"Hola," he said into the phone. Leaning back, he could barely see El Mariachi from this vantagepoint.
"Hola, How's it going?" It was Ryan. No doubt wondering what was taking so long. Ryan had an analyst background, not an agent's. In this capacity he was quite annoying.
"These things take time, Jack." Ryan hated when his agent's didn't call him Dr. Ryan, and Sands knew it.
"Well, the President's staff is quite busy right now, so they've forgotten about you. But I haven't."
Yeah, of course you haven't, thought Sands. "Jack, I'm working on a lot of things right now. I should have news for you by the end of the week."
"Not good enough, Sands."
"Jack, you always were impatient."
"The longer that you stay in Mexico, the more Mexicans you are going to kill. Don't let this turn out like Zululand."
"It won't. I've got things under control here. I haven't killed anybody for three days," Sands replied, mockingly. "Jack, this is a restaurant phone."
Silence for a moment. Finally, "nobody knows where you are. They wouldn't be listening."
"You're probably right, Jack. But let me remind you that you're not an agent. You don't think like an agent. Best you talk to one before calling me next time." Sands hung up the phone. It was no big deal, he just liked yanking Ryan's chain.
As he walked into the "restroom", Sands decided that it was time to make contact. It wouldn't be easy. He couldn't just walk up to the guy and introduce himself by saying "hi, I'm from the CIA."
This guy could be nervous, he thought. And another thing struck him. Ryan said "They wouldn't be listening." He should have caught this right away. Who wouldn't be listening? As far as he knew, Sands was performing a proaction - not a reaction. What didn't he know? As he opened the door to leave the bathroom he was greeted by the nuzzle of pistol.
"Why is the CIA following me?"
---------------------------------------------
It wasn't the fact that Cleopatra betrayed him. It wasn't her apparent disdain for him. What upset Antony the most was her blatent disregard for his people. All along, he thought that she was the most important thing in his life. He was wrong though.
Antony knew now that it was the Romans whom he cherished the most. They weren't Caesarians. They were Romans. This was something that he had forgotten. He would remember that now. For whatever time he had left he would remember. And he would go out fighting, given the chance.
Antony was being escorted down a long hallway out of the palace in Alexandria. As he walked, he reflected on what had happened. Was Octavian right all along? He had always thought that the young man was simply jealous. Cleopatra had chosen him over Caesar's prodigy.
Antony had tried to maintain the type of relationship that Caesar had had with her, but it never worked out that way. While Caesar had called the shots, with Antony, Cleopatra called them. Why hadn't he seen this?
His escorts opened a door. Inside was an apparent holding cell. They thrust him into it. Undaunted, Antony spoke.
"Whether here or in Hell, I will have the Queen's head for this."
The guards chuckled, then turned suddenly. Behind them were two men. Two thuds later, and the guards were on the ground.
"Come, Emperor," one of the men said, gesturing him to come out. He looked vaguely familiar.
"Who are you?"
"We don't have much time," said the man. The two men began to carry the bodies into the holding cell.
"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me who you are!" demanded Antony.
Finally, one of the men looked up. "We've got to get out of here. There is a way down the back stairs. We weren't noticed coming in, but we will be going out. Especially with you tagging along. You can wait here if you want, but they'll kill you. Or, you can come with us, and we'll protect you."
The other man spoke. "Look, if we were going to kill you we'd have done it by now. If it makes you feel better, my name is Paulie and that's Sylvio," he said, pointing to the other man. "Now let's get out of here."
The familiar face was coming to him. These men were criminals. If he hadn't spent so much time away from Rome he's have noticed the mob boss' henchmen right away.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"To Rome," answered Sylvio.
Rome, thought Antony. What fate awaited him there? Octavian would have his vengeance. But what choice did he have? Paulie gave him one of the guard's pistols.
"Here. Either kill or be killed," he said.
"Just one thing. Don't shoot us," added Sylvio.
amirsan
King of all Kings
Wow zeeter, I read part of this and its just... GREAT. I would love if you can share some of it... it might be too long to copy and paste it, but maybe you have some other work? Share it in my forums if its possible, the link is in my sig. 
silver 2039
Deity
- Joined
- Jul 26, 2003
- Messages
- 16,208
It's about time Zeeter we've been waiting.
silver 2039
Deity
- Joined
- Jul 26, 2003
- Messages
- 16,208
That'd be awesome! A Hail Ceaser Movie.
Globetrotter
...wherever i may roam...
Zeeter! I PMed you. 
Great stuff. I just added it into the word document.
Eager for more!
Great stuff. I just added it into the word document.
Eager for more!
Placo had spent the last year and a half in Paris. It was a miserable city. The homes were old. That stupid tower. And don't get started on the traffic. Moving five miles in the city could take up to an hour.
The people were miserable, too. But that wasn't just Paris. All over America they were miserable. He guessed they were happy, but for what? They'd now ruined three cultures. The French never had a chance to get started. The Americans involved themselves in Zululand for no reason. Shaka's internal policies were not there to be judged by outsiders. They invaded on the premise of removing the Iroquois, but then they never left. Now Shaka sat in a cell in San Diego while the Americans take and sell Zulu oil.
Placo suposed that the Iroquois deserved their fate. He only backed them because they had the guts to stand up to the Americans and the Romans. Yet, in the end, they were the aggressors and paid the ultimate price.
What would have happened, he wondered, if the Americans hadn't been so aggressive? The world would be different. France would be great. Their friends and allies in Carthage would be great, as well. By destroying the French the Americans doomed all Carthaginians to a life of poverty. They were thought of as second rate civilization. Their culture laughed at.
While these Americans bought their new cars and plasma televisions, Carthaginians were purchasing the right to see CNN on their old black and whites. Imagine - having to watch another country's news channels. This is what dug into Placo's skin. They were a growing nation, but this growth was being held back by the Americans. If they really wanted to help his people they would give them satelite technology to start their own television channels.
He watched the people around him as he sat in the restaurant. They rushed here and there. Eating the types of foods that his people could only dream of. Children were starving in Carthage, yet here is a man who cannot finish his appetizer.
What manner of people were these? They disgusted Placo. Carthaginians were no longer a backwards people. Hannibal had changed that. His policies, once stifling, were now progressive. Some thought they were too progressive. It was too much, too soon. The people weren't ready for it.
They were given rifles and planes without the knowledge of their consequences. It was like giving a pistol to a child who doesn't yet know the responsibility of using it.
That was all rubbish, thought Placo. His people had seen much more than could be imagined. As a child he watched his brother die of starvation. It had hardened him. His brother had been sick for quite some time. He wasn't tough enough. He couldn't fight for his food like Placo could. The world was a tough place, and not suited for the weak. What had these American's fought for? Nothing. Everything they had was given to them. It made him sick.
Placo stood and looked about the restaurant. The people paid him no mind. Many foreigners came to Paris. Nearby a waiter dropped a tray. It startled many around him. The people then laughed at themselves. The cowards.
Placo looked down at the trigger in his finger, then at the people about him. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he finally spoke. He shouted "Your final judgement will be before God!"
Placo pressed the button and blew the restaurant to kingdom come.
The people were miserable, too. But that wasn't just Paris. All over America they were miserable. He guessed they were happy, but for what? They'd now ruined three cultures. The French never had a chance to get started. The Americans involved themselves in Zululand for no reason. Shaka's internal policies were not there to be judged by outsiders. They invaded on the premise of removing the Iroquois, but then they never left. Now Shaka sat in a cell in San Diego while the Americans take and sell Zulu oil.
Placo suposed that the Iroquois deserved their fate. He only backed them because they had the guts to stand up to the Americans and the Romans. Yet, in the end, they were the aggressors and paid the ultimate price.
What would have happened, he wondered, if the Americans hadn't been so aggressive? The world would be different. France would be great. Their friends and allies in Carthage would be great, as well. By destroying the French the Americans doomed all Carthaginians to a life of poverty. They were thought of as second rate civilization. Their culture laughed at.
While these Americans bought their new cars and plasma televisions, Carthaginians were purchasing the right to see CNN on their old black and whites. Imagine - having to watch another country's news channels. This is what dug into Placo's skin. They were a growing nation, but this growth was being held back by the Americans. If they really wanted to help his people they would give them satelite technology to start their own television channels.
He watched the people around him as he sat in the restaurant. They rushed here and there. Eating the types of foods that his people could only dream of. Children were starving in Carthage, yet here is a man who cannot finish his appetizer.
What manner of people were these? They disgusted Placo. Carthaginians were no longer a backwards people. Hannibal had changed that. His policies, once stifling, were now progressive. Some thought they were too progressive. It was too much, too soon. The people weren't ready for it.
They were given rifles and planes without the knowledge of their consequences. It was like giving a pistol to a child who doesn't yet know the responsibility of using it.
That was all rubbish, thought Placo. His people had seen much more than could be imagined. As a child he watched his brother die of starvation. It had hardened him. His brother had been sick for quite some time. He wasn't tough enough. He couldn't fight for his food like Placo could. The world was a tough place, and not suited for the weak. What had these American's fought for? Nothing. Everything they had was given to them. It made him sick.
Placo stood and looked about the restaurant. The people paid him no mind. Many foreigners came to Paris. Nearby a waiter dropped a tray. It startled many around him. The people then laughed at themselves. The cowards.
Placo looked down at the trigger in his finger, then at the people about him. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he finally spoke. He shouted "Your final judgement will be before God!"
Placo pressed the button and blew the restaurant to kingdom come.
amirsan
King of all Kings
Wow, I heard of that game too... I read the same magazine... lol.
Anyways, my email is amir1710@aol.com
Hey, soon, I will be able to host sub-domains for my website... I could probably make you your own forum for it and stuff. I see this is a great story, and has potential to be a novel.
I would be honored to host a story like this. At the moment I can only make you your own forums. Whatever you want.
I have AIM and its Emperor Amirsan.
Anyways, my email is amir1710@aol.com
Hey, soon, I will be able to host sub-domains for my website... I could probably make you your own forum for it and stuff. I see this is a great story, and has potential to be a novel.
I would be honored to host a story like this. At the moment I can only make you your own forums. Whatever you want.
I have AIM and its Emperor Amirsan.
El Mariachi was a man of few words, thought Agent Sands. It was difficult to read him. The stories, whether true or exagerated, all pointed to El Mariachi being the best in the business. Some called him a hero. Others a martyr. Children were told stories about the man who stood up to Montezuma. As the tales said, Mariachi fought valiantly, but was killed in the end.
"You know this situation can only lead to more bloodshed," said Sands. "If Huascar becomes any sort of figure in Mexico there will be a civil war. All that will happen is that Montezuma will bring out the troops and countless Mexicans will be slaughtered."
"How do you know this?" asked Mariachi. His face was solemn. Yet there was an indifference to him. As if he didn't really care one way or the other what happened. "How do you know that the people will not stand up and reject Montezuma?"
"Because he has the power. As long as he has the power, he has the people."
"Power does not bring the people. Hope does," answered Mariachi. "What hope do they have under Montezuma? He builds police stations everywhere that there is an uprising. People who speak out simply disapear."
"And that will continue," said Sands. Mariachi was bringing up some good points, yet was missing the bigger picture. Death to his people, with no real results. "The more pressure that you put on Montezuma, the more he will use these strong-arm tactics.
"You need to leave it to us. We can place the right amount of pressure on the government to facilitate changes."
Sands watches as a scowl came accross the Mariachi's face. "Why should we rely on America to run our government?"
"Because we have the best government in the world. The people are free."
"Your people are, but what of the Zulus? We sit in this country strangled by our leaders. Atahualpa never fought for his people. He is a coward, yet the Incas still worship him. Now you say that Huascar has surfaced? This is not bad news. This is good for all of Mexico. Inca and Aztec."
"It is not good if Huascar is dead by next week," replied Sands. "Montezuma will kill him. Then he will kill those who brought him out. Then he will kill those close to them. It won't stop until all Incas bow down on their knees to him."
Sands paused while El Mariachi sat in deap thought. What was he thinking? His only logical reply was to rely on the resolve of all Mexicans. That there is more going on here than the CIA could understand. It made Sands wonder for a moment if it was true. Would the Incas and Aztecs stand against Montezuma? Could they back an Inca ruler?
Yes, the Americans were a free people. Why did Dr. Ryan not want the same for Mexico? Would a united, free Mexico be a challenge to American superiority? Doubtful. They were too far behind. On the other hand, Egypt had once been far behind. Carthage, too. Now Egypt was a grave threat and Carthage had taken great leaps to catch up.
"What is your answer, El Mariachi?" he asked, finally. Mariachi was distracted, though, by the TV. Sands turned around to see the destruction in Paris.
"I have to go. I'll find you," he said.
------------------------------------------------------
Jack Ryan sat in the situation room. Things were getting dicey. Two bombs - one in Paris and one in Philadelphia - had killed at least seventy-five people. Hoover was at a loss, and he sympathized with the FBI director. There was no textbook for this.
"Who was he?" asked Kissinger.
"I don't know," said Hoover. "Witnesses reported that he said something about God before detonating."
Roosevelt then looked to Ryan. "Do you have anything?"
Ryan was troubled. He had nothing. Whoever this was had an agenda and played it out against his people. "No, sir. We're not even sure if he was American or not."
"When will we find out?" asked FDR.
"When we perform the autopsy," replied Hoover.
There wasn't much to go on there, thought Ryan. Whatever remains there were from this blast were now dust. He decided to keep his mouth shut, though. This was Hoover's failure, not his. He might have one soon in Mexico, and wouldn't Hoover like to return the favor? Best to keep quiet.
"How soon will that be?" asked Kissinger.
"It'll take weeks," replied Leo McGarry, the president's Chief of Staff. "SAR teams will be going through the rubble for a long time."
The phone on the desk rang. The president's national security advisor, Oliver North answered.
"And you've got nothing?" the President asked Hoover with a scowl. He turned to the rest of the group. "One of these, and I could call it a nut. It wouldn't make me happy, but at least we could close the book on this. Two means that there'll be more."
"They've got one," announced North to the rest of the room. He turned back to the phone.
"Got what?" asked Kissinger.
"Who is he?" North asked into the phone. There was a long pause. "Well, he's going to talk. Keep a lid on this. No press." He hung up the phone.
"What's going on?" asked the President.
"Another attempt. This one in Dallas," replied North. "The bomb didn't go off. He was stuck there holding the trigger, then reached for a knife when he realized things had gone wrong. Some of the restaurant patrons subdued him."
"Well that's good, I guess," said Hoover.
He was right, thought Ryan. It wasn't good that another attempt happened, but at least they would have something to go by now.
Hoover continued. "I'll get my interrogation operatives to Dallas right away." He stood to leave.
"Not yet," said the President bluntly.
Hoover looked dumbfounded. "Is there something else?" he asked.
Roosevelt looked to Ryan. "Jack, send someone to Dallas and get to the bottom of this."
The phone rang again. North answered.
"Mr President," said Hoover. "This is a domestic matter. The CIA shouldn't be..."
"It's not domestic," interrupted McGarry. "This is foreign."
"How do we know? We haven't even seen this guy yet," retorted Hoover.
"I don't have to see him," said Kissinger. "I can feel it. This isn't some disillusioned unemployed steelworker. Not three of them in a coordinated act of terror."
"Four of them," said North, hanging up the phone. "They just hit a nightclub in Los Angelos. There were at least two hundred people inside."
"Get your guy to Dallas," said the President to Ryan.
"I've got just the guy, Mr President."
"You know this situation can only lead to more bloodshed," said Sands. "If Huascar becomes any sort of figure in Mexico there will be a civil war. All that will happen is that Montezuma will bring out the troops and countless Mexicans will be slaughtered."
"How do you know this?" asked Mariachi. His face was solemn. Yet there was an indifference to him. As if he didn't really care one way or the other what happened. "How do you know that the people will not stand up and reject Montezuma?"
"Because he has the power. As long as he has the power, he has the people."
"Power does not bring the people. Hope does," answered Mariachi. "What hope do they have under Montezuma? He builds police stations everywhere that there is an uprising. People who speak out simply disapear."
"And that will continue," said Sands. Mariachi was bringing up some good points, yet was missing the bigger picture. Death to his people, with no real results. "The more pressure that you put on Montezuma, the more he will use these strong-arm tactics.
"You need to leave it to us. We can place the right amount of pressure on the government to facilitate changes."
Sands watches as a scowl came accross the Mariachi's face. "Why should we rely on America to run our government?"
"Because we have the best government in the world. The people are free."
"Your people are, but what of the Zulus? We sit in this country strangled by our leaders. Atahualpa never fought for his people. He is a coward, yet the Incas still worship him. Now you say that Huascar has surfaced? This is not bad news. This is good for all of Mexico. Inca and Aztec."
"It is not good if Huascar is dead by next week," replied Sands. "Montezuma will kill him. Then he will kill those who brought him out. Then he will kill those close to them. It won't stop until all Incas bow down on their knees to him."
Sands paused while El Mariachi sat in deap thought. What was he thinking? His only logical reply was to rely on the resolve of all Mexicans. That there is more going on here than the CIA could understand. It made Sands wonder for a moment if it was true. Would the Incas and Aztecs stand against Montezuma? Could they back an Inca ruler?
Yes, the Americans were a free people. Why did Dr. Ryan not want the same for Mexico? Would a united, free Mexico be a challenge to American superiority? Doubtful. They were too far behind. On the other hand, Egypt had once been far behind. Carthage, too. Now Egypt was a grave threat and Carthage had taken great leaps to catch up.
"What is your answer, El Mariachi?" he asked, finally. Mariachi was distracted, though, by the TV. Sands turned around to see the destruction in Paris.
"I have to go. I'll find you," he said.
------------------------------------------------------
Jack Ryan sat in the situation room. Things were getting dicey. Two bombs - one in Paris and one in Philadelphia - had killed at least seventy-five people. Hoover was at a loss, and he sympathized with the FBI director. There was no textbook for this.
"Who was he?" asked Kissinger.
"I don't know," said Hoover. "Witnesses reported that he said something about God before detonating."
Roosevelt then looked to Ryan. "Do you have anything?"
Ryan was troubled. He had nothing. Whoever this was had an agenda and played it out against his people. "No, sir. We're not even sure if he was American or not."
"When will we find out?" asked FDR.
"When we perform the autopsy," replied Hoover.
There wasn't much to go on there, thought Ryan. Whatever remains there were from this blast were now dust. He decided to keep his mouth shut, though. This was Hoover's failure, not his. He might have one soon in Mexico, and wouldn't Hoover like to return the favor? Best to keep quiet.
"How soon will that be?" asked Kissinger.
"It'll take weeks," replied Leo McGarry, the president's Chief of Staff. "SAR teams will be going through the rubble for a long time."
The phone on the desk rang. The president's national security advisor, Oliver North answered.
"And you've got nothing?" the President asked Hoover with a scowl. He turned to the rest of the group. "One of these, and I could call it a nut. It wouldn't make me happy, but at least we could close the book on this. Two means that there'll be more."
"They've got one," announced North to the rest of the room. He turned back to the phone.
"Got what?" asked Kissinger.
"Who is he?" North asked into the phone. There was a long pause. "Well, he's going to talk. Keep a lid on this. No press." He hung up the phone.
"What's going on?" asked the President.
"Another attempt. This one in Dallas," replied North. "The bomb didn't go off. He was stuck there holding the trigger, then reached for a knife when he realized things had gone wrong. Some of the restaurant patrons subdued him."
"Well that's good, I guess," said Hoover.
He was right, thought Ryan. It wasn't good that another attempt happened, but at least they would have something to go by now.
Hoover continued. "I'll get my interrogation operatives to Dallas right away." He stood to leave.
"Not yet," said the President bluntly.
Hoover looked dumbfounded. "Is there something else?" he asked.
Roosevelt looked to Ryan. "Jack, send someone to Dallas and get to the bottom of this."
The phone rang again. North answered.
"Mr President," said Hoover. "This is a domestic matter. The CIA shouldn't be..."
"It's not domestic," interrupted McGarry. "This is foreign."
"How do we know? We haven't even seen this guy yet," retorted Hoover.
"I don't have to see him," said Kissinger. "I can feel it. This isn't some disillusioned unemployed steelworker. Not three of them in a coordinated act of terror."
"Four of them," said North, hanging up the phone. "They just hit a nightclub in Los Angelos. There were at least two hundred people inside."
"Get your guy to Dallas," said the President to Ryan.
"I've got just the guy, Mr President."
Cleopatra looked to Brianna with much disdain. It troubled her that the queen would hold her responsible for what was going on.
"You got played in Rome," she said. "What use are you now?"
For all of the years that Brianna had served the her, now Cleopatra was turning her back on her. Brianna had stood by the queen when Caesar fell. She stood by her when she attempted to woo Antony. She followed the situation and gave council to the queen.
"I certainly cannot send you back to Rome," Cleopatra continued. "And America is too hot right now. They'll be looking at every foreigner that steps foot in their country."
"Your highness, I have always been council to you. Just because I cannot operate anymore doesn't mean that I cannot continue in another capacity."
"Our intelligence from Rome is completely unreliable now," the queen retorted. "We don't know whether they were telling you the truth or just making things up. Even now, Antony is free in this very city because of your failure. They knew what would happen before I did. Why shouldn't I hold you responsible?"
Brianna looked down. "I have failed you, your highness," she said. "And I vow to find Antony to redeem myself."
Cleopatra looked at her sternly for a moment. "Find him. Or it will be your head."
"I...I will, your highness," she said. This was getting dangerous. Cleopatra had always trusted her. What had changed? Brianna had had so many successes in the past. Why, if not for her, Cleopatra would be serving Arsinoe now. Or worse, she'd be dead. The queen's words stabbed at her like a knife. She had changed. It was her dealings with Antony that had done it. She used him, and grew to like using him.
No longer was Antony a person, but he was a puppet. She kept him full of liquor and lust in order to pull his strings. Cleopatra had done this so well that now she had lost her link to her own people. She was attempting to pull the strings of all of those around her.
Brianna got up to leave. "One more thing, Brianna," said the Queen.
"Yes?"
Cleopatra looked into her eyes. "Whom do you serve?"
"I serve Egypt."
The queen moved closer. "Whom do you serve?" she asked more sternly.
Brianna hesitated for a moment. Finally: "You. Queen Cleopatra."
"And who am I"
Cleopatra had turned into a Pharoah right before Brianna's eyes. "You are the Sun and the Moon. The Stars and the Sand."
"You would do well to remember that."
-----------------------------------------------------
Antony sat and watched the carnage on the television in Alexandria. He was in a safe-house, one that Silvio had personally vouched for. For the moment, he felt safe, yet teams of the governments security detail were searching throughout the city for him. They at least had time to sit for a few hours until the details got close. Silvio and Paulie would answer questions.
For now, though, he just wanted to get his mind off of everything. It was difficult, though. What if what happened in America had happened in Rome? Could it still happen?
"You should rest," said Paulie. "We've got a lot of work to do tonight."
Rest. That would be nice, but it was impossible right now. There was too much going on. "How did you know what was going to happen?" he asked.
"Best you don't know that," replied Paulie.
"Why not?"
Silvio answered. "Plausible Deny-ability."
Couldn't argue that, Antony thought. Besides, it didn't look like these men were going to talk, anyway. "Where to now?"
"We have a contact in the harbor. He'll take us in a boat out of the harbor where a submarine is going to pick us up," replied Paulie.
A submarine. Antony had never been on one of them. Again his thoughts turned to Rome and Octavian. What would happen there? As he thought of this his eyes closed. When they opened it was dark and Silvio was shaking him.
"We have to leave now," he said. Antony stood and looked around. No luck. It wasn't all a dream. He followed Antony and Paulie down the back stairs.
In the alley behind the building he could hear the footsteps of the Queen's security detachments. Paulie turned to him. "Keep your mouth shut and stay between me and Syl. We'll watch your front and back. Just keep up, and keep quiet."
Slowly they moved down the alley after the sound of footsteps ended. They made their way accross town this way, going around checkpoints and hiding in alleys. It wasn't too difficult. The Queen had set a curfue in the city, so anyone that they saw was the police. The worst had come when an officer suprised them. He hadn't made a sound, though, before Paulie slit his throat.
The docks were lit, which was disappointing. The boat that awaited them was no prize, either, but beggars couldn't be choosers. Silvio signaled his contact with a flashlight. When they got the signal back the three of them moved in.
"Did you have any trouble making it across town?" asked the contact.
"Shut the F@#K up and start the boat," sneered Paulie.
"Ah, the Emperor. I am Phillipe. It is good to meet you." The man held his hand out to Antony, who offered his.
"Lets get out of here," said Silvio as he reached for one of the boat ties.
It was then that Antony heard what sounded like a car backfiring. The second sound he heard was Silvio hitting the water. He tried to turn, but Phillipe had a tight grasp of his wrist.
"What the.." Paulie looked back towards where the shot rang out. As he did this, Phillipe lifted his other hand and shot Paulie in the face.
"This is what happens when you cross Cleopatra, Marc Antony." Phillipe still had a tight grasp on Marc's wrist. Suddenly, that grasp loosened.
Looking up, Antony saw a hole in Phillipe's forehead. One that wasn't there before. He hadn't heard a sound, though. Remembering the sniper, he ducked out of sight.
There was quite a commotion behind him. Some thuds, which Antony now recognized as silenced bullets, and some sniper rounds, which he knew the sound of all too well. What was going on here? First the mob saves him, then they walk into a trap, then the trap is foiled. Either this was folly, or it was very well planned.
"Emperor. Where are you?" It was a woman's voice. Antony reached for his pistol as the woman came into view.
"Put that away. I don't want you to do anything that will get you killed."
"Who are you?" asked Antony.
"I am Brianna. We must get you out of here."
Antony looked the woman over. She was beautiful, and somewhat familiar looking. "You're hurt," he said, looking at a growing blood stain in the woman's shoulder.
She paid him no mind as she loosened the lines of the boat. "Get in. If we don't go now we'll never get out of here."
Antony had no choice.
"You got played in Rome," she said. "What use are you now?"
For all of the years that Brianna had served the her, now Cleopatra was turning her back on her. Brianna had stood by the queen when Caesar fell. She stood by her when she attempted to woo Antony. She followed the situation and gave council to the queen.
"I certainly cannot send you back to Rome," Cleopatra continued. "And America is too hot right now. They'll be looking at every foreigner that steps foot in their country."
"Your highness, I have always been council to you. Just because I cannot operate anymore doesn't mean that I cannot continue in another capacity."
"Our intelligence from Rome is completely unreliable now," the queen retorted. "We don't know whether they were telling you the truth or just making things up. Even now, Antony is free in this very city because of your failure. They knew what would happen before I did. Why shouldn't I hold you responsible?"
Brianna looked down. "I have failed you, your highness," she said. "And I vow to find Antony to redeem myself."
Cleopatra looked at her sternly for a moment. "Find him. Or it will be your head."
"I...I will, your highness," she said. This was getting dangerous. Cleopatra had always trusted her. What had changed? Brianna had had so many successes in the past. Why, if not for her, Cleopatra would be serving Arsinoe now. Or worse, she'd be dead. The queen's words stabbed at her like a knife. She had changed. It was her dealings with Antony that had done it. She used him, and grew to like using him.
No longer was Antony a person, but he was a puppet. She kept him full of liquor and lust in order to pull his strings. Cleopatra had done this so well that now she had lost her link to her own people. She was attempting to pull the strings of all of those around her.
Brianna got up to leave. "One more thing, Brianna," said the Queen.
"Yes?"
Cleopatra looked into her eyes. "Whom do you serve?"
"I serve Egypt."
The queen moved closer. "Whom do you serve?" she asked more sternly.
Brianna hesitated for a moment. Finally: "You. Queen Cleopatra."
"And who am I"
Cleopatra had turned into a Pharoah right before Brianna's eyes. "You are the Sun and the Moon. The Stars and the Sand."
"You would do well to remember that."
-----------------------------------------------------
Antony sat and watched the carnage on the television in Alexandria. He was in a safe-house, one that Silvio had personally vouched for. For the moment, he felt safe, yet teams of the governments security detail were searching throughout the city for him. They at least had time to sit for a few hours until the details got close. Silvio and Paulie would answer questions.
For now, though, he just wanted to get his mind off of everything. It was difficult, though. What if what happened in America had happened in Rome? Could it still happen?
"You should rest," said Paulie. "We've got a lot of work to do tonight."
Rest. That would be nice, but it was impossible right now. There was too much going on. "How did you know what was going to happen?" he asked.
"Best you don't know that," replied Paulie.
"Why not?"
Silvio answered. "Plausible Deny-ability."
Couldn't argue that, Antony thought. Besides, it didn't look like these men were going to talk, anyway. "Where to now?"
"We have a contact in the harbor. He'll take us in a boat out of the harbor where a submarine is going to pick us up," replied Paulie.
A submarine. Antony had never been on one of them. Again his thoughts turned to Rome and Octavian. What would happen there? As he thought of this his eyes closed. When they opened it was dark and Silvio was shaking him.
"We have to leave now," he said. Antony stood and looked around. No luck. It wasn't all a dream. He followed Antony and Paulie down the back stairs.
In the alley behind the building he could hear the footsteps of the Queen's security detachments. Paulie turned to him. "Keep your mouth shut and stay between me and Syl. We'll watch your front and back. Just keep up, and keep quiet."
Slowly they moved down the alley after the sound of footsteps ended. They made their way accross town this way, going around checkpoints and hiding in alleys. It wasn't too difficult. The Queen had set a curfue in the city, so anyone that they saw was the police. The worst had come when an officer suprised them. He hadn't made a sound, though, before Paulie slit his throat.
The docks were lit, which was disappointing. The boat that awaited them was no prize, either, but beggars couldn't be choosers. Silvio signaled his contact with a flashlight. When they got the signal back the three of them moved in.
"Did you have any trouble making it across town?" asked the contact.
"Shut the F@#K up and start the boat," sneered Paulie.
"Ah, the Emperor. I am Phillipe. It is good to meet you." The man held his hand out to Antony, who offered his.
"Lets get out of here," said Silvio as he reached for one of the boat ties.
It was then that Antony heard what sounded like a car backfiring. The second sound he heard was Silvio hitting the water. He tried to turn, but Phillipe had a tight grasp of his wrist.
"What the.." Paulie looked back towards where the shot rang out. As he did this, Phillipe lifted his other hand and shot Paulie in the face.
"This is what happens when you cross Cleopatra, Marc Antony." Phillipe still had a tight grasp on Marc's wrist. Suddenly, that grasp loosened.
Looking up, Antony saw a hole in Phillipe's forehead. One that wasn't there before. He hadn't heard a sound, though. Remembering the sniper, he ducked out of sight.
There was quite a commotion behind him. Some thuds, which Antony now recognized as silenced bullets, and some sniper rounds, which he knew the sound of all too well. What was going on here? First the mob saves him, then they walk into a trap, then the trap is foiled. Either this was folly, or it was very well planned.
"Emperor. Where are you?" It was a woman's voice. Antony reached for his pistol as the woman came into view.
"Put that away. I don't want you to do anything that will get you killed."
"Who are you?" asked Antony.
"I am Brianna. We must get you out of here."
Antony looked the woman over. She was beautiful, and somewhat familiar looking. "You're hurt," he said, looking at a growing blood stain in the woman's shoulder.
She paid him no mind as she loosened the lines of the boat. "Get in. If we don't go now we'll never get out of here."
Antony had no choice.
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