» Thu Dec 17, 2009 11:53 pm It was, almost completely, like any other monday morning for General Douglas Morgenholt, a chief commander of the United States Armed Forces. He had woken early, as he had since his early days in West Point Academy, but since then, so much about him had changed. Having already showered, Morgenholt stood in front of his bedroom mirror, clad in only his undergarments and an undershirt. Dispite his forty five years of age, he maintained his physical wellbeing meticulously, refusing to drink alchohol or smoke, and consuming hearty red meat, as every American should. Even though he kept his body well-conditioned, age and stress still extracted a good bit of his old vigor and youthfulness, the lack of which manifested itself in his graying hairline, and constantly fatigued facial expression. With military efficiency, he dressed himself in a crisp, clean uniform: black boots, olive drab fatigues, and a long-tailed general's overcoat.
Douglas Morgenholt descended the staircase of his modest suburban home, to find his wife and two children. His wife Julia, only thirty-seven years old, and retained far more of her youth than he did. In every since of the word, she was beautiful, though her Hispanic heritage already earned the distrust of her neighbors, and she had no option but to hide her beauty under unattractive hairstyles and cumbersome dresses. Fortunately for his two children, they inherited much of their genetic makeup from him, making them appear more Caucasian than anything else. While Morgenholt had no problem with African Americans or Hispanics (many of his friends, both in and out of the Armed Forces gave them far more caustic names, but out of respect, he refused), the general consensus amongst white Americans was that they were good for nothing; that mindset annoied Morgenholt, but he would go through Hell if he revealed his true feelings... as a Liberal. He wished his family goodbye and good luck before departing for work, for another week of Hell.
An unmarked Corvega pulled up to the curb in front of his home. and Morgenholt entered the vehicle. Now, he sat beside a profusely sweating man, easily the most corpulent serviceman he knew. Colonel Alexander Zerkhezi and his family migrated to America at the same time as the Morgenholts, from Eastern Europe in order to escape the looming threat of the CCCP. Though mistrusted by American citizens, both men proved to be tactical geniuses at a young age, and were quickly recruited by the USAF, ascending through the ranks at an amazing rate. Of course, Morgenholt always had greater initiative than Zerkhezi, which showed in his superior ranking. Lighting a cigar, Zerkhezi coughed, "Morgenholt, my friend! Welcome back to the grind. Did you have a good "vacation"?"
Laughing bitterly, Morgenholt replied, "If you can call it that. Junior is having trouble getting his work done; he is always talking about baseball. Then there's Jane. If she doesn't stop mouthing off to boys and speaking so darn smart all the time... she is headed for a miserable life. Honestly? Dealing with those Vault-Tec and Lee Rapid Pharmesuticals sharks is easier than dealing with my own d*** children."
"I hear you there, my friend. Listen, we have got a big meeting coming up. The spooks smell a war coming... a war with the Reds. That means Vault-Tec is pushing harder and harder on their deal for supplying shelter to the public. Then, Lee Pharmesuticals is lobbying to become the sole medical supplier for our boys on the front in exchange for a 'discount' on their wares. Plus, West-Tek says they got a new type of Power Armor for our troops..."
"So much for easing my self back in..."
The Corvega slowed to a halt in front of the USAF representative complex, and the two men re-emerged into the sweltering heat. At the gate, a man clad in glistening Power Armor took their identifications, then saluting them. Over the years, West-Tek had sold the Army more and more on the concept of powered armor, and the more the military used it, the less Morgenholt liked it; the men looked like space men out of one of his son's comic books, not fighting men for the good old United States of America. Plus, some of them even had laser weapons. Laser weapons! The suddden leaps in technology, while shocking, weren't what disturbed Morgenholt the most. It was that he knew little to nothing about them. Wiping the sweat off his brow, he prepared to enter the complex, and plunge himself into the endless war that was United States beaurocracy.
