Empire

Chapter 33

America's POV:

I sat in my office drinking my coffee, waiting for the caffeine to hit. It was taking it's time. I kept my eye on the time. Everything seemed to be taking it's time and it was making me tired. I was too lazy to look at any of the reports yet.

I decided to see what Gray was doing. I opened up the security footage and found her room. She seemed to be quite docile, unlike what Mexico reported, saying she was hostile. I tried to rewind the footage to see if I could get a look at how hostile she got.

As I attempted to rewind, I was only met with a small message saying that audio and visual footage had been deleted and was unrecoverable. I was a little suspicious, because the only way it could be deleted would be manually so someone would have had to do it on purpose.

Someone didn't want me seeing what was going on in that room.

The spy! It has to be.

They must have gone into the security room and worked out the passwords. Good thing there is a security camera in the security room. I pulled up the security room footage. I started rewinding to see if anyone had entered.

As I was rewinding, I noticed that someone had entered the room shortly after the time the other footage cut out. I tried to get a better look at who it was. I was having trouble until he turned around. Good ol' Lebanon. I never trusted him anyway.

As I kept watching, I noticed Mexico had entered and had spent a couple minutes arguing with Lebanon before Lebanon left, flipping off Mexico as he walked out the door. Strangely, the audio was missing.

"America, it's Lebanon from the labs, there is something you need to see right now," Lebanon said as he knocked on the door. I couldn't let him know I was onto him, so I needed to act normal. I walked to the door and addressed him.

"Is this about the arm?" I asked.

"It is, and we think you should take a look at this," Lebanon explained as he pointed down the hallway. I nodded my head and we walked down to the lab. He opened the door for me and entered.

"What is going on?" I asked.

"America, thank goodness you are here! Look at this," Syria said, pointing to the screen. I took a step closer to get a good look.

"What? How is this possible?" I asked as I read the screen.

"We aren't sure. We were pretty sure he was long dead," Lebanon explained

"There is no way his arm would still remain unless... he is still alive," I said out loud.

"Could it be possible? Last time anyone ever saw him, he was practically dead," Syria said.

"But no one ever saw him die." I muttered.

"Wherever Gray got this arm, she knows something we don't and we need to find out what it is," I explained.

Madagascar's POV:

I was mopping the floor of the bathroom, doing my daily rounds. I felt my mind cloud as I placed the mop back in the bucket. I started to remember the events that led up to this job. It was a horrible job, and no amount of enthusiasm could change that.

As I pulled the mop back out and brushed the floor with it, I felt sadness. It had been a long time since I had cried. As stupid as it sounds, private staff are not allowed to cry in public and to always have a smile or a plan blank face. The private staff were the ones who dealt with the Rebel Containment and Disciplinary unit. Which included me.

Because of this rule, most of the private staff become numb to emotions in order to keep our lives and make sure those who didn't know of the secrets wouldn't question anything.

I quickly whipped my tears away and splashed my face with some of the water in the sink. I looked back at the mirror and put on a smile. It was very convincing. I finished mopping the floors and left out a wet sign for people to see. I put away my gear in the nearest janitor closet and moved onto my next task.

I wandered down the hallways and looked at the different types of cultural art. It was New Zealand's idea. Since we as a part of Africa don't really appreciate being ruled over, to prove a point that he would be different, he allowed everyone in the empire to decorate a hallway with their own cultural artwork. It was New Zealand's first act.

But, as time moved on, New Zealand started acting differently and weirdly. He would go back and forward on opinions, constantly changing his mind. Eventually, out of rage, New Zealand killed someone in front of a select few people. This someone was trying to speak out of concern about New Zealand and was the first to initially rebel.

Those who saw, including me, were threatened and thrown into a new, secretive line of work which included the 'discipline' of those who rebel.

To hide that fact the New Zealand killed someone, he removed their artworks from the walls and denied they ever existed. We aren't allowed to say the names of the rebels who have... passed.

But life here is great. If I can't use optimism, lies can work just as well.

While I am distracted by my thoughts, I passed the room I was supposed to clean. Feeling a little stupid I turned around to enter it. It was a break room, luckily it was empty so I didn't have to clear anyone out of the room.

Luckily, the break rooms have their own janitor closet. I pulled out the cleaning supplies I needed and started wiping down the tables and realigning the couches and making the room look perfect.

I sighed heavily as I accidentally bumped over a glass that landed on the carpet. I looked down at the spilt water and picked up the glass. I placed the glass on a table and knelt down to clean up the mess I made.

"Let me help," I heard Wales say from behind me.

"Wales, I thought you were cleaning the western bathrooms?" I said.

"I finished and thought I would help you out." Wales said, kneeling down to clean up the mess.

"Oh, thanks," I nodded. He gave me a joyful smile that looked somewhat desturbed. I was a little concerned and a little suspicious. But his kindness was welcomed. It's been a while since someone helped me.