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Clash of the Titans

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Rahm stopped suddenly rubbing his eyes as hard as he dared. This wasn't the oval office. This room wasn't even round.

 

"Excuse me. Can I help you?" King Silas' voice cut through the room, his eyes flashing at the unexpected interruption. He had been in the middle of something profound and this interloper had made him lose his train of thought.

 

"Where the fuck am I and how the fuck did I get here?" Rahm's hands were on his hips, pushing back the sides of his jacket. The man glaring at him had on a nicer suit and he didn't like that much. He didn't like the other man's attitude either.

 

Silas blinked. Nobody used that sort of language around him. No one. "Who are you? Are you here from Gath because if so you can turn around and go back to General..."

 

"Where the fuck is Gath? Are you fucking insane? Where's the President?" Rahm didn't have time for this bullshit. He had an economic rescue plan to shove down a few dozen throats.

 

"The president of what?" Silas didn't know why he was entertaining this man. He should just call for the guards and have him thrown in a cell somewhere.

 

"Of. The. United. States." Rahm enunciated. Was the man a moron?

 

"That's it. You're clearly insane. Guards!" Palace guards in Gilboan uniforms poured into the room.

 

Rahm was shocked into silence. It didn't last long. As the guards grabbed him he muttered, "This really isn't fucking Kansas." Then, with skills last employed in the defense of Israel he started to fight back. They would never take him alive. It was his last thought before everything went black.