Young Writers Society

A/N: Wow, it's been a while. Standard note: the "Mutts" stories don't have to be read in order. They are all set in the same story universe and center around many of the same events, but they all involve different people and are meant to be read in any order you wish. So yeah...

6/7/09

065 – Passing

“Okay people, we are on in ten, nine, eight – “

The makeup artist darted in for one final brush of foundation across a shiny spot on Marcie’s nose, and then ducked beneath the desk, out of sight of the cameras as the countdown finished.

“Two, one,” John mouthed silently and gave Marcie the thumbs up. She smiled brightly as the camera swooped down to focus on her face.

“Good evening and welcome to the five o’clock news here on Channel Twelve. I’m Marcie Goldman.”

The prompter spoke into her earpiece, reminding her of the news order.

“Our breaking story all this week: the government’s reveal of a top secret weapon after it had already been released onto the battlefield. Though most details are yet to be released, many are already criticizing President Fairoaks for her decision to keep the technology’s existence hidden from the American public until after it had been implemented.”

Marcie turned to the screen next to her desk. One of her stiletto heels tapped against the makeup artist’s arm and Marcie pulled back as carefully as she could.

“Joining us now with more on the story is Chuck O’Malley, on location at the White House where the President is expected to appear shortly in a press conference. Chuck?”

Chuck flashed into existence on the screen, huddling under an umbrella and clutching at his microphone. Everything but his bright smile spoke of his discomfort.

“Marcie, I’m standing here in front of the White Hose, surrounded by protestors railing against the President’s decision. The President herself has yet to come out and make a statement. That is the purpose of this press conference, but as you can see,” here the camera swung away from Chuck’s face and instead focused on the hoards of people braving the rain and crowding against police barriers. “The people are already making their opinions heard.”

Marcie asked the questions as they were fed into her earpiece.

“What exactly is it that has people so upset?”

Chuck appeared back on screen. His smile was turning into a wince as the shouting around him increased in volume. Someone in the background was leading a chant; indistinguishable over the microphones, but loud and rhythmic.

“Much of it has to do with the secrecy surrounding the whole project. Many environmental groups are also up in arms, with concerns about possible environmental impacts.”

“Tell us a bit about the project itself, Chuck.” Marcie nudged the makeup artist out from under the desk. The young woman grinned and crawled away, still out of sight of the cameras.

“Well, details are sketchy right now. I spoke with General Chantilly, the general allegedly in charge of the entire project, but he declined to comment. However, I did get to speak with one of the developing scientists, Dr. Charles Lidlum, who hinted at genetically modified creatures. He refused to elaborate beyond that. So your guess is as good as mine, Marcie. Hopefully, the President will be able to explain things in her address.”

“Thanks, Chuck.”

“My pleasure, Marcie.”

Chuck’s smile faltered as the screen flicked off, but the cameras were already back to Marcie.

“That was Chuck O’Malley, on location at the White House.”

John stood behind the camera, holding up both of his hands. Ten fingers. Ten seconds. The prompter garbled in her ear.

“When we get back,” Marcie tried not to sound hurried, “What lawmakers are considering changing about your health insurance policy, and the amazing story of a daring rescue at sea by one brave fishing boat. And of course we’ll stay on top of the breaking story of the government’s secret weapon.”

John’s fingers were counting down silently. Four, three –

“All this when we come back, here on Channel Twelve.”

--two, one. The camera swung back up into the ceiling, ready for its next swoop shot.

“Very nice, Marcie,” John called from behind the camera. “But that shiny spot is still there.” He indicated her nose.

---

A/N: This actually had very little to do with the prompt. What happened is I wrote an outline for every prompt. But in actually writing this story, I was actually really flexible with the outline. So while the outline might have made sense with the prompt, the story doesn't really. Yup.