West Vancouver, North Cascadia, Union of Cascadian States
It was an unusual day in Vancouver, the capital of the Cascadian Union. For one thing, it wasn't raining, which President Morgan hoped was a good sign. He stood outside the "Government House", his official residence in the neighbourhood of West Vancouver, casually pacing at the bottom of the steps leading up to the front door. Government House was a modest two-story dwelling overlooking English Bay - large enough to host government officials and the cadres, but for the residence of a head of state, it was rather modest. Outside, it was actually a surprisingly pleasant day - a soft breeze blew in across the water, and the sun shone gently through soft fluffy clouds, which cast cool shadows upon the ground below. For that, Morgan was grateful. It would do to be sweaty today and he couldn't stand heat, much to the chagrin of his Lebanese ancestors, he was sure. He was dressed in his typical get-up - green army fatigues, with the shoulder insignia of a Commandant General, and freshly polished black combat boots. As this was a special occasion, he was wearing an army green cap, also emblazoned with his rank. He'd vowed long ago not to take off his uniform until Cascadia was truly free, and excluding the necessary exceptions to this promise, he'd kept his word.
Around him were soldiers from his Presidential Guard, standing at attention on either side of him. They were some of the finest and most loyal soldiers the Union had to offer, hand-picked by Morgan from the men and women who had fought beside him during the Southern Campaign. As far as Morgan was concerned, there were no more formidable warriors in all of North America. None more worthy of his trust. They stood unflinching at his side, and lining the red carpet that ended at Morgan's feet. With his guard, he felt just a little bit safer. He'd kill any one of them for a cigarette, though.
But it was best not to risk ruining his first impression. That brought Morgan to the second thing unusual about today - the man he was meeting. His home had hosted many foreign dignitaries since he'd come to power, emissaries from nations supporting the Cascadian cause, with whom he'd drank and smoked, laughed and discussed strategy and politics. But never before had he opened his door to entities naturally inclined to oppose him. Corporations had been brought down across Cascadia by the might of organized labour, but arriving before him shortly was a man who had taken on the world, not in the people's revolution, but with his wallet and unquenchable greed. Morgan still wasn't quite sure what to expect, though the press was sure to have a field day with this. Reporters already occupied his driveway waiting to catch a glimpse of his meeting with Nexus Ravenworth, like ants searching for crumbs. A greater man would have played the role of exterminator, Morgan thought to himself. He could have given each and every reporter in Cascadia cement shoes and thrown them into the inlet. But Morgan was not that man, he thought after catching himself. He had morals, he respected the value of human life... Even the lives of these parasites to scared to life a rifle for their country.
"They're almost here, Comrade President." Harrison Prince, Morgan's chief of security said after pressing a finger to his earpiece.
"Excellent," Morgan straightened his uniform and brushed his beard with his hand, "Let's see how this goes."
