Fatin stepped off the plane and into the gate of the Ronald Reagan International Airport in Washington DC. Taking a moment to stretch his legs and straighten his well tailored western-business suit, he looked first at his watch and then at the masses of people checking their phones to make sure they hadn't missed anything imperative on their nine hour flight home from London. As he stepped out of the gate tunnel and into the airport proper, his ears were assaulted by innumerable rings and buzzes of cellphones screaming for attention. People all around him were hurriedly reading their little screens, shocked painted plainly on their faces. Then, one by one, they looked up the the CNN broadcast playing on the television above gate tunnel.
"BREAKING NEWS: Reports of an attack on a satellite broadcasting facility on the island of Hawaii. Armed men stormed the facility after a power outage. Multiple hostages and an unknown number of dead."
The anchors on TV wore the same expression as those around Fatin in the airport. As the news temas cut to analyst after analyst, asking what this means, Fatin walked hurriedly through the airport, following the crowds of people. Suddenly the TVs all across the airport went blue and a strange staticy sound penetrated the entire building. When picture return just a minute later, it wasn't the face of bumbling news anchors that greeted the airport goers, or the entire American population, instead they were met with a computer generated figure, dressed in an all white three-piece suit. The figure stood against a black background, causing his most striking feature to stand out. the figure had no face. His head was simply a white oval. Although no mouth opened, the figure began to speak.
"Americans, I am sure that by now you have heard of the attack on the satellite facility. While you all may be confused, perhaps even scared, I assure you, you have nothing to fear from me. I am not your enemy. I am simply a messenger, a harbinger if you will, and my message is for the leaders of your country. I speak not of your president, not of your Congress, I speak of and to those in the dark. The hand that signs the check and plays with the marionette that your country has become. You know who you are. And, so do I. You may think you are untouchable, hidden behind hundreds of millions of civilian lives, all of whom had nothing to do with the horrible crimes you have committed. You think your shield of innocence will protect you. I am here to say that it will not. Innocence never stopped you from achieving your aims, nor will it stop me from achieving mine. Citizens of America, I do not expect you to realize what has begun as of yet. But you soon will. My only hope is that once you do, you leaders will have already learned what I will teach them. Until we meet again."
The screens went blue again and in another minute the new broadcast returned. No one moved. The anchors were speechless in their chairs, the people around Fatin stunned into paralysis. Then, all of a sudden, everyone rushed into motion. Fatin followed a massive crowd toward the airport exit after sending a single text message. He hurried to baggage claim like all of those around him and started toward the exit of the airport.
As Fatin eared the exit, something caught his eye. Something in the crowd as wrong. A few people were pushing the opposite way from the masses, not going toward the exit but instead...they were coming toward him. Fatin looked up to the sky through the large windows, stopped walking and sat down. He watched five men dressed in various levels of professionality circle him. Then a woman, beautiful and fierce looking, approached him. He stood to greet her and the men surrounding him drew their pistols. He raised his hands in a show of submission, then stretched out his hand to the woman, "As-salamu alaykum, I'm sure you already know who I am, so lets not waste anymore of your taxpayers' time. Lead the way madame." Fatin said in a smooth but subtle Arabic accent, his natural voice.
