A day earlier, in the United States of Avalonia, the air crackled with anticipation as Jonathan and Morgan arrived at the majestic gates of the White House. With a sense of purpose, they were joined by their trusted associates from Pittsburgh, who had been instructed to patiently await their summons outside the hallowed walls.
Escorted by a detachment of stern-faced guards, Jonathan and Morgan traversed the immaculately manicured gardens, their footsteps echoing through the corridors of power. As they approached the Oval Office, the weight of the moment hung heavy in the air, blending with the scent of authority and lingering wisps of smoke.
Behind the iconic Resolute Desk, a symbol of power and decision-making, sat President Harrison, an imposing figure with an air of quiet confidence. Puffing thoughtfully on a cigarette, he exuded a commanding presence, his gaze fixed on the horizon beyond the grand windows.
