Just as Alizeh entered the room, she was blinded by hot white flashes of the camera. She shielded her eyes and closed them momentarily to adjust to the glare.

When her eyes accommodated to the brightly lit room, she inhaled sharply. The large room was milling with figures in black and the combined chatter reverberated from the vaulted ceilings. The crowd was enthusiastic, cheerful and anticipative.

Derek clicked one more candid photo of her, earning a glare from Alizeh. Soon he had scampered off to adjust the big flashlights that focused on the raised podium. The sleek black cameras with polished tripods were strategically placed for maximum coverage.

Nina had a hood on and was trying to almost blend into her surroundings. Alizeh passed closed to her and their hands brushed briefly. Just a silent show of support. Nina's hands were cold and she shivered slightly in spite of the coat she was wearing. The AC had been purposefully set to a freezing fifteen, to allow their little drama to take place.

Nina straightened up suddenly, slightly moving her head to one side, as if focusing on some sound, far, far away. Cyanide must be speaking to her over their camouflaged communicators.

Alizeh pretended to adjust her crystal drop earrings as she pressed the central amethyst to activate her own receiver.

"You're all connected now. I'm not at base to risk all of them getting caught. I'm working solitary so that if they trace this, it's only me. And don't worry. I have a gun," Cyanide's instructions were crisp and clear. Alizeh's eyes almost watered. She realised how much Agent Cyanide was putting at stake for all this.

"Take care, Cynthia," Nina mumbled, before looking at Alizeh. It was as if they were suddenly realising the amount of responsibility on their shoulders. This had to work. After all that, they couldn't fail.

"Madame, it's cold in here, isn't it?" an unknown man was suddenly at Alizeh's side. He was dressed in an expensive suit and had diamond pins on the lapels of his shirt which glistened in the light.

"Seems like it," Alizeh smiled politely.
"You're the new assistant, ignis avem (firebird)," the man flashed a row of bright white teeth.

Alizeh was so stunned by him speaking the code word that she forgot to respond at once. "Ita (yes)," she replied very carefully.
"Hello, I'm Pavel, Antonio Pavel, the leader of the opposition," he extended his hands.

"Mr Pavel, I don't think it's wise of you to come here. It's too conspicuous," Derek hissed, as he passed by, seemingly busy.

Pavel just winked at Alizeh and disappeared with a shrug. So that was the person Alizeh would bring to the power by helping overthrow the President. He looked genial, but looks are deceiving and in the political world, nobody is perfect.

But it was too late for Alizeh to muse over whether the plan was even worth it or not. They had lost too much allready to go back now.

Just then the President entered, with his entourage trailing behind. They looked spic and span and gleaming, untouched by the hassles of the real world. The show was all too fake as the President climbed onto the lone podium, adjusting the mic to his height.

Alizeh swiftly took up the carefully prepared speeches that he had made her write while he sat there and dictated. The writer inside of Alizeh had used her own imagination to tweak the words. It'll be too late before the president will even realise what he said and it'll be recorded on live camera. She placed the neatly typed pages before him and stood back, just to the side.

"Lights, camera and rolling," Derek shouted from some dark corner and the lights grew brighter as blinding flashes lit up. Some news channels had also turned up with their big cameras to cover the event and Alizeh couldn't actually prevent that. So she had to just wait and hope the plan played out.

The President was droning on and on about how he always cares for the betterment of his citizens in all the clouds. He was reading out reports about new entertainment centres opening, new offices and some new clouds to be made to accommodate the growing population.

Alizeh looked straight ahead and was feeling beads of sweat stand out on her forehead even in the chilling temperatures. The president was moving too fast. The timing needs to correspond or else she'd be in deep trouble. One of the reporters was trying to attract his attention. He slowed down for a bit, but didn't acknowledge him standing there. That however bought Alizeh some time.

"So, I am planning," the president read out like a machine, "to allow for more amenities to those living on Cloud Nine because it is a shame that they are treated as second class...Sorry," he spluttered abruptly, quickly realizing he was making a mistake. His searching eyes fell on Alizeh. He glared at her. She gave a look of quick surprise.

"There has been a mistake, please cut that out," he said to Nina, who was at the computer. "Sorry sir, we're on live," she answered grimly.

"But there was a printing mistake?"

"What is wrong with Cloud Nine? Why don't you even acknowledge that the cloud exists," one reporter shouted from the crowd.

"And why do you pretend that your chosen group of cronies are more talented than an entire cloud full of writers and artists and imaginators who could very well run the world," another joined.

"Cyanide," Alizeh whispered urgently into the microphone. She needed the power cut before the session turned into a hands-on brawl or the president's guards came on sight.

The lights flickered just then and turned off completely, plunging the room into darkness. Alizeh immediately jumped into action, spreading out her mind control as planned.

"Smoke," someone screamed in the dark, though there was none.

"Fire, run," collective voices rang from the other side of the room. The voice of the President and his ministers were drowned out in the metallic screech of chairs and tables being drawn, mixed with the sounds of shuffling footsteps, as it broke into a stampede.

"Sir, I need to take you to safety. There has been a power glitch, come on," Alizeh tugged at the arm of the President.

"Y...yes," he stuttered, "maybe they're rebels. Oh my god, they'll kill me," he sounded frightened like a hare.

"This way," she dragged one heavy hand in the direction of the back of the room. Alizeh had worn infrared glasses to help her visualize in the dark. She was tugging him away from the crowd.

He obeyed, obviously confused in the dark. And then, she felt the president being dragged back. There were muffled sounds of protest as someone else had pounced on him, and thrown him to the floor. The assailant plunged an injection into his neck and his struggles stopped altogether as his limbs fell back with a thud.

"It'll be easier to take him now. I've knocked him out. Go!" Mr Pavel's voice instructed as he brushed past her and lazily joined the crowd, his red silhouette melting into the sea of infrared bodies.

A/N What do you think will happen now?