Antonio Solar: Origins of an Empire (ReWriting)

Chapter One: Interview with the Devil

Chapter One: Interview with the Devil

"Michael Hays, here. The world has been wondering who is Antonio Solar? What are his motives? Is he a threat to the world?"

He sat there addressing the camera, like a peacock at center stage. His black hair gelled to a hideous solid state, and make up so intensely caked on to hide aging.

"Well, tonight, we sit down with the Mexican Dictator."

I hate interviews, but my cabinet members suggested better public relations with the world. I hold complete control of every territory held by Mexico, but I was elected by the people. My influence is inescapable, and there were no other candidates more honest of their corruption. It was a landslide victory as the citizens either felt scared to vote in my opposition, or pride voting for the man that created millions of jobs.

"Antonio, as the world is fully aware, you started out as a drug lord."

He turned his full attention to me, pretending not to be scared by all my armed personnel. My net worth is in the trillions, and have amassed numerous enemies worldwide. The heavy weaponry in this room is enough to make a grown man cry with fear, and this man deserves an Oscar.

"What about it?" I said, glaring at him unflinchingly.

His lower lip began to quiver from one small question, and I never felt more at ease. How dare he not show proper respect in my country? How dare he act unfazed in front of the world while staring at death himself?

Michael began to sweat profusely, and his eyes watered to the brink of tears. He managed to regain composure, but the world saw the blatant horror in his eyes.

"There... There are many in the world that would... would..."

He began tripping on his words, and the sound could not be sweeter. However, for the sake of public relations it could not continue. Manipulating the interview is a sign of fascism, and that is not what my country is about... His face lit up once I waved my arms and my soldiers stopped aiming at him, the ones he could see.

"They would like to know what your plans are, and if you plan to coexist with the rest of the world."

His makeup was still runny, the heat inside the room is unbearable to spoiled little princesses. We are hardened men, each and every one of us had seen battle. Scars filled our bodies like brush strikes on a canvas, the heat of battle prepared us for every environment known to men. Even Russia is afraid to lay a finger in my operations; my men do not fear death.

"Michael, I have no interest in taking over the entire world, just the areas containing the resources that I desire."

His eyes widened, assuming that America held such resources. There is a reason that I have not waged war with my neighbor, my nation is prosperous while theirs sinks in decline.

"Can you elaborate on what kinds of resources you are after?"

There wasn't a reason for him to know, and without it there is no answer to give. I shifted my body sideways, leaning on my throne in complete apathy of his concerns.

"No. Next question."

He sat in his chair, rifling through notecards in hopes of finding a question I'd be willing to answer. Finally settling on one that my administration had been dying to answer, Michael adjusted his tie and cleared his throat.

"Your political party has been propagating for more tourism into your country and territories. The world is fully aware of the wars you have waged, in your conquest for expansion."