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Number 10 Downing Street had been quickly restored. The symbol of the British seat of government had proudly risen from the ruins of the attack. In the months following the liberation of the nations from the Brotherhood of the Crescent Moon, elections had been held to get the world back in order. While everybody grieved for the ones they lost, new leadership was needed.
Technology was also now more closely scrutinized. People began to shy away from what they used to think was necessary. There were no more demands for programs that had once been the craze.
Smartphones were not abolished, but stricter government policies were set in place. Security became the utmost importance. Moving on after the war was vital, but it was also important that nobody forget what led to the attack at G-Time. People were no longer in a hurry to rush into something more high-tech.
And today, the new British Prime Minister was moving into Number 10. The household staff was lined up just inside the front door, waiting to give their new leader a warm welcome.
Zawiya stood in the middle of the line. Her escape back to London had been a nightmare, but it had been necessary. The Brotherhood’s keep had fallen. She had nowhere to go.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she remembered the burning building she had fled from. She grieved for the man who had been inside when it was blown up. She touched the scar on her right arm. She’d been burnt when she was escaping from the keep. The only reason she survived was because she had been outside picking flowers for her wedding bouquet.
She had chosen a husband, and Abdul Aleem was to bless their union… but then the infidels had attacked. She held back the tears and practiced the smile she would give the new Prime Minister.
She took a deep breath and flashed the smile that hurt her cheek and her pride. She was back to being a servant. She would once again be at the mercies of a Western monster.
“Mr. O’Connor, sir. Welcome home!”
The new Prime Minister had arrived.
Zawiya’s eyes widened as she recognized the dark man who’d entered the room. She had always known that he lived by another name in the Western world. But she had never realized who he was.
She lowered her gaze meekly as she listened to him being greeted by everybody else. When he was finally in front of her, she looked up and smiled. “Welcome, Prime Minister!”
He nodded and returned her smile and walked on to the next person in line.
Zawiya’s smile never left her face. The infidels may believe they had won, that they had destroyed the Brotherhood. They had no idea…