Oval Office, The White House

The grandfather clock chimed for the eighth time as the President sat on his chair at the resolute desk. The Oval Office is eerily quiet, even though five people are now sitting in the room. President Reagan decided to maintain the current Secretaries of State and Homeland Security but only called in the Secretary of State as her department's responsibility included protecting American citizens living or travelling abroad. James Mattis folded his arms in impatience, his head dipping low and muttering something. Sitting on the couch opposite the former general I folded my arms in silence, my eyes keenly observing his movements.

My military pedigree is now the talk of the town besides everything at Inauguration Day. Being the niece of the three top generals in command of the South Korean Armed Forces has swept every global military personnel off their feet, including the American military. Personally, I don't like the attention I received because of my uncles' minor appearance at Inauguration Day to represent my entire family. It wasn't too long that every cable news went on fire, literally, when they noticed the almost similar looks between me, my uncles, and Brian. Unfortunately for Brian, his clandestine job as a civilian pilot was over when the South Korean media channels found his resume in the Korean Air airline company. Lucky that his job in NIS is zipped shut. I told my press secretary to not comment on this, but if they still wanted one, I told her to tell them that 'My family's story isn't a subject of tabloid gossip'. The story died down soon after.

The door of the Oval Office leading to the main corridor in the West Wing opened just as the clock struck nine. Jack walked into the office, carrying his notebook as the new director of the FBI, Ryan Carey, stared at him. "Sir, we have a footage from the ones responsible in attacking our embassy in Venezuela." he reported. "It's ready for viewing in the room." Oliver rejoined me once I exited the room with the President, handing me my mother's journal and my phone. On my phone there is a text message from Bruce. 

Is everything ok? he typed. I frowned upon the message. 

I can't tell you, national security. I replied. Sorry. He replied a few minutes later.

I see. Look, can you drop by at Wayne Tower? 4 pm? I growled in reply. I made sure that I'm alone in my office, Oliver waiting outside when I looked at the text.

Not sure yet, President's worried. Probably having a field day with this. I texted him back.

Ok. His reply came. Settle your problem first.

I'll drop by if I can. I replied. Exiting the room Oliver and I headed down to the ground floor of the West Wing. Leaving my phone outside the room I stepped into the quiet room and took my seat next to the President, who, is well aware why I am late to the meeting. One of the six flat-screen display televisions is already fired up, waiting for the commander in chief's orders. Once I slid into the chair to the President's right he gestured the tech personnel to play the video. The video begins with a blindfolded man tie to a chair and two armed men with ski masks stood beside him. Another man entered the camera and unfolded a paper. "We are from The Voice Of The People." the man said in Spanish but it was translated into English by Pentagon personnel. "We have stormed your embassy and held your diplomats hostage President Reagan."

"Damn them all." the President said. Ryan looked at me, fearing that what happened to me back then will haunt me but I gestured him to not worry.

"We do not want bloodshed Mr. President. Our country has been ruled by a dictator that oppressed the people of our nation." he continued. "President Juan Heyes once promised us freedom of the press, freedom to assemble and freedom to protest before he was elected president. And now he has turned back on his promise, arresting political opponents and dissidents, banning protests and closed down independent newspapers, expelled journalists and more. People who protests for their freedom has started to disappear one by one, including our loved ones."

Anger seethed in the President's eyes. "If that coward wanted to topple the President of Venezuela he might as damn well stay away from my people."

"If you did not answer to our demands in helping us to bring down the President we will start to spill the blood of your people, starting with him." he turned and gestured one of the men to lift the blindfold. Our backs straightened when we saw the face of Roland Brandon, the current US Ambassador to Venezuela. Without a word the man speaking to the camera took out a knife and cuts the ambassador in the arm, causing him to scream in agony as scarlet red blood seeped through the gap of his sleeve. The camera feed then cuts to black. 

"Son of a bitch." President Reagan muttered a curse. Ryan turned away from the TV screen, his fists clenched so tight until I can almost see the blood vessels beneath the skin. Everyone turned away from the screen, each showing expressions of disbelief but my blood is boiling. Roland Brandon has aided me and Andy during the mission in Venezuela, providing technological support as much as he can, working with former Ambassador Davenport to capture our main target. My hands started to clench into fists as well, angered by the so-called group who doesn't want bloodshed but still hurt a hostage to force our hand. "This is not our policy." he told the room. "We can never help them to topple the leader even though what they have said could be the truth."

"Reyes must have seen this footage." I said. "We can't jeopardize our country's relations, could lead to war and condemnation from the international community."

"I support what the Vice President says." the former general replied. "It's against international law regarding a nation's sovereignty."

"That clip could be viral now." the President said. "So much for a quiet beginning in the second Reagan Administration."