Dylan looked over the sea of colours and knew this was going to go wrong. He’d been briefed about the danger, the predicted catastrophe, and he was here to prevent it. His job was to look for trouble and if he found any, even the faintest sign, he was to rush out of his hiding place and get Joe Biden off the stage in a matter of seconds. He briefly thought about how silly it would look if it was a false alarm. He chuckled to himself and then wondered if the pressure was getting to him.

Refocusing, he examined the crowd and noticed a few key things. There was a feverish excitement that surrounded them all and it exhibited itself in noise and movement. Some were booing and hissing, others were cheering and shouting. There was a clear divide between them. American flags dotted the landscape and both sides wore patriotic colours. It was interesting how they all liked America but thought of it differently. Some thought it was Trump. Some thought it was Biden. Some thought it was neither.

There was a rise in noise, and he looked back to the stage, decorated in all its splendour, to see Joe Biden stepping proudly up to the microphone. He walked with long, confident strides and Dylan would have sworn he was smiling under the mask that blocked his face. Joe Biden greeted the people and the nation. Then the speeches started.

Dylan drowned it out and listened to the crowd instead. He could hear a faint chant in the background, but try as he might, he couldn’t make out the words. It sounded meaningful though, like the chanters were pouring their heart and soul into it.

At certain times in the speeches, there would be a clear reaction. A crescendo in shouts, and signs would be waved around with enthusiasm. However, for the most part, there were no threatening moves.

After a while, applause erupted from sections of the crowd and the speeches were done. It was now 12:00. Commotion ensued and soon Dylan heard the famous line shouted above the crowd, spoken proudly and with immense honour.

“Do you, Joe Biden, solemnly swear that you will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of your ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States?"

Biden took off his mask, placed his hand on the bible, and got shot.

There was a moment, the first moment of the day, where there was complete silence. It was just after the bang and lasted barely a second. In that second, Dylan’s instincts took over. Then there was screaming, and the panic began. The politicians on stage all moved back, away from the body, and the paramedics all moved forward. Even though the target was already down, and Dylan knew it was pointless, he rushed out, gun loaded, and did that looking-around thing before deciding what to do.

With the help of his fellow soldiers, he started evacuating the politicians off the stage and into the Capitol building. Everyone was in shock. Some were crying. Others were asking questions with obvious answers such as “Is he okay?” and “What happened?” And then there were the pale faces, looking ahead in numb surprise. The soldiers were the only ones not showing any emotion other than calm determination. They were not paid to grieve; they were paid to protect.

When the last of the politicians were inside the safe room and under guard, Dylan went to barricade the door but found the general waiting for him. The general had blood splattered over his clothes and his fast movements revealed his stress, yet his authority was still there.

“Sir?” Dylan questioned.

“I need someone to take Dr. Biden off the stage. She won’t be moved.”

Dylan went cold, “Sir, I don’t think I could…” He trailed off when he saw that arguing was pointless.

He headed back to the stage and saw complete catastrophe. Screams and shouts filled the air. Most of the crowd was running away, tripping over each other in haste. The fanatics, the Trump supporters, were surging to the Capitol pushing the barrier of police further and further back. The stage wouldn’t be safe for long.

The paramedics had decided to give up on any medical solution and were bagging up the body and head to be removed. There was a desperate woman kneeling over the bag trying to free the body all the while shouting at the paramedics to heal him. Dylan went up to her and crouched down.

“We have to leave, ma’am.”

All she did was scream at him.

“It’s not safe here, I need to get you inside the Capitol.”

Now she started sobbing. He tried to guide her up, but she stayed down with a determination that overpowered him.

“I can’t leave my husband!” The sentence ripped out of her throat.

Dylan fumbled in his mind for the right words and found none, “You have to. Please.”

The shouts of the crowd grew closer and Dylan saw no other alternative but to pick her up. She fought him all the way to safety and her cries pierced his ears and heart. When the door had finally closed behind them, the noise dimmed, and it almost felt like they were under water. Dylan knew if he put her down now, she would just go back, so he carried her down the corridor.

She was silent now, but tears rolled down her face. He didn’t know whether he should say anything, offer condolences, or just leave her alone. He felt like he was stuck in something far beyond his understanding.

To his relief, he finally reached the safe room only to find it empty. His mind went over different scenarios until he found the most likely; they had been evacuated out of the Capitol. It had been the last-resort plan if the danger was too high. Dylan supposed this was the case.

He looked at the women, “If I let you down, can you stand?”

He got no answer, so he gently put her on her feet being careful that he was between her and the door. She managed to stay up and Dylan saw that she wasn’t crying anymore. He hoped that was a good sign.

“We’re going to the cars now. The Capitol has been evacuated.”

She nodded and he sighed in relief. They headed out and Dr. Biden turned back the way they had come from, towards the stage and the crowd. Dylan cried out and ran to catch up. She didn’t try to speed up or stop him as he passed her and blocked her passage.

“It’s the other way.”

“I need to find out who killed him.”

Dylan stared, “You can’t, it’s too dangerous. You have to get out the building.” He tried to sound earnest but came closer to desperate.

“I’m not going until I’ve found out.”

Dylan had heard of this, this shock that made people lose their minds. In training, he was told it was best to physically overpower them, preferably without harm, and get them away from the situation. Maybe he should taser her?

“Don’t you taser me.”

Dylan looked guilty and removed his hand from a pouch on his jacket.

He tried reason next, “We won’t be able to find the sniper. We don’t even know where the shot was fired from.”

“You do.”

Dylan hesitated. She was right. When the bang had gone off, his training had kicked in and he had registered where the shot had come from. He hadn’t appreciated that until now.

“It doesn’t matter. He’ll probably have gone already.”

“I need to do this. Please help.”

Dylan saw the pain in her eyes and crumbled, “Ten minutes, then we go.”

She nodded and smiled like that was all she needed, “So where to?”

The shot was fired from above and behind, Dylan was sure. “The dome.”

They headed off, their footsteps muffled by the soft carpet. Dr. Biden led him up marble staircases and down corridors lined with deep-coloured paintings. Style and grandeur radiated from every turn.

The dome was before them. Columns blocked the sun, and one held a letter. Dylan let Dr Biden open it. Her face gave nothing away as she read it. She handed it over and Dylan saw the words, all in capital letters: “TRUMP FOREVER.”