Handling a Crisis

Chapter Thirty-Four: Whoops, ⨏д丂ርቷऽጦ

Wow, I actually finished this on-schedule. Ngl, I thought I wasn't gonna make it because school's been kicking my ass.

The video has nothing to do with the chapter. I just thought it was funny. Y'all deserve a laugh.

Chapter warning: blood, hate crime, mentions of injustices against Native Americans

America was in the bathroom of one the government building, trying to fix himself up. He'd arrived in quite a rush, having slept through his alarm. Thank God his kids had woken him up.

He was now trying to calm himself down while at his reflection, obsessing over every small detail. How he thought obsessing over his reflection was going to help, I don't know. America needed to make sure there was not a piece of fabric out of place and nothing he didn't want anyone seeing was showing, such as the bags under his eyes and his eyes. Yeah, he was pretty much fine with his coworkers, family, and friends knowing, but everyone else was another story.

Now, why was America putting so much effort into looking good? No, wasn't because he was going to see Russia (though, Russia might see him). America was going to be having a press conference. People from several different news outlets of the U.S.A. that were in New Pangea when the lockdown was implemented were going to be interviewing him on several different topics, most likely about the Black Lives Matter protests and the upcoming election.

Despite having done this time and time again, press conferences made him nervous. What if the reporter brought up something that brought back really bad memories? Yes, he was better than he was before in, say, the 1980's, so he didn't have to worry about using bad coping mechanisms anymore, but no one likes remembering horrible stuff, right? In addition, for America, things tended to escalate at press conferences, and he didn't want to feel more stressed than he already was.

America placed his hands on the edge of the sink counter and bent down at his waist, exhaling deeply as he took a step back. After a few seconds, he inhaled deeply and looked up, but then jumped back when he saw his reflection. America shook his head and rubbed his eyes before peering at the mirror again, scared to see what was in the mirror. He sighed in relief when he saw his normal reflection– his stars and stripes, his tuxedo, and his trusty sunglasses.

For a second, America could've sworn he saw–

No, hey, America thought to himself. You're probably just tired and seeing things. What you think you saw probably wasn't really there. You're fine.

Clearing his throat and straightening his tie and sunglasses, he muttered to himself in the mirror, "Okay, diplomat time." America walked out of the bathroom and was met by three guards assigned to protect him during the conference and NATO, who was in his disguise. He nodded politely at them. "Good morning," he greeted them.

"Are you ready to go?" NATO asked.

America nodded again. "Yeah, I'm ready."

The group walked to the room where the conference was being held. As they walked there, America hung back, walking beside NATO. "Pehea ʻoe, Makuakāne? (How are you feeling, Father?)" NATO inquired quietly.

"Hopohopo iki (A little nervous)," America admitted.

NATO gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "E hana maikaʻi ana ʻoe. (You're going to do great)."

America chuckled a little. "Lana koʻu manaʻo. (I hope so.)"

Upon entering the room, cameras immediately turned to America, who flashed them a pageant-worthy smile as he passed them by. One of the reporters tried asking questions before America got to the table, but he ignored the reporter and continued on his way. When America got to the table, he sat down in front of a microphone and his guards and NATO stood around him, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.