[b]Madrid, Spain[/b]

A fluttering mass of cooing pigeons swarmed about the wrinkled mass of gray fabric that blanketed the newest of the capital's numerous landmarks and monuments. [i]Plaza Republicana[/i], the tree-lined park that surrounded the heart of Spain's capitol - the Halls of the Republic - played host to a reasonably-sized crowd that had come to witness the unveiling of the monument today on the second of May. This was a minor holiday within Spain:[i] El Dia de la Abdicacion[/i]; twenty-five years ago today, Juan III - the ultimate king of Spain - renounced his crown, and the Second Spanish Republic had been born. On this quadranscentennial of the abolition of the Spanish monarchy, it had been decided that a monument dedicated to the 25th anniversary of the Republic was to be erected in celebration.

Just over a thousand people - many of them journalists armed with cameras affixed with bulky lenses - formed a wide arc around the concrete pedestal nestled within the loosely-wooded park. Morning dove and pigeon coos mingled with the dull roar of onlookers as they awaited the unveiling. The sculptor fidgeted anxiously at the foot of his creation as he and the rest of the crowd awaited the arrival of an important guest before the unveiling could begin.

The clicking and flashing of reporter cameras joined by polite applause from the crowd heralded the arrival of that guest of honor. Coming down the winding pathway paved from the Halls of the Republic came Alfonso Sotelo: Prime Minister of the Spanish Republic. A small suit tailored for a wearer with a small frame was pressed immaculately to his breast, but even so it seemed the suit fit him rather loosely - as if he had lost weight since he had been fitted for the outfit. A face characterized by an angular jaw, protruding cheekbones, and a sharp, jutting nose sat atop his shoulders. Within sunken sockets, predatory grey eyes flitted about his surroundings: to the gathering of spectators he approached, and back momentarily to the four hulking bodyguards walking in tandem at his side. As Sotelo drew nearer to the crowd - within range of the cameras - his face wrung itself into a polite smile as he approached the cloth-draped monument.

The Prime Minister craned his neck up to the top of the curtained object. Though the finer details had obviously been obscured in wait for the unveiling, the height and the size could roughly be discerned; and it was quite large indeed. The top of the draped cloth ended in a wrinkled lump about 10 meters above a plaque-adorned dais of granite. There, in front of said plaque, Alfonso Sotelo met the sculptor responsible for the project and grasped his extended hand within his own. His palms were rough and calloused as one would expect of a man who worked with his hands. They felt abrasive and uncomfortable against Sotelo's bony digits and he was quick to release from the handshake.

"[i]Senor[/i] Mescalero, I have been quite curious to see what you have so busy putting together on the grounds for these past four months."

"It will have been worth the wait, Excellency." The artist attested confidently with a knowing smile.. "I think you will be quite surprised - and pleased - with the results." 

"Excellent." Sotelo began, clearing his throat briefly before addressing the audience; camera lamps flashing incessantly upon Sotelo and the sculptor as he did.

"My fellow men and women of the Republic. It was this day, a quarter century ago, that our nation was ushered into this world through the exhortations of a people - a nation united against the disgraceful and decadent rule of the Borboun dynasty that had sapped the terrifying potential of this nation and led it to ruin. It was on this day, twenty-five years ago, that Spain as a whole had decided that its destiny was greater than servitude under ambitionless monarchs. On this day, [i]el dos de mayo[/i], 1955, we left three hundred years of misrule and decay in history and carved a brave path into the glorious future upon whose cusp we now stand.

Men and women of this great republic, look back but a single generation and see how far this nation has come. While the rest of the world sank into violence and decay, or fell under the iron fist of our communist adversary in the Orient - this republic stood as a bastion of stability and prosperity. Spain stands now as the example for all civilized people of the world, when just twenty-five years ago this nation was an embarrassment among them. As such, it is with utmost pride that I allow [i]Senor[/i] Arturo Mescalero, the man who assembled this artwork for which we gathered today to see unveiled, to do exactly that." With open hands, Sotelo gestured to the sculptor.

"I couldn't, Excellency. The honor must be yours."

"Fair enough." The Prime Minister nodded, grabbing a wad of the curtain draped over the monument in both fists. "And so it is my honor to present to you this monument built to celebrate this great day!" With that, Sotelo tore the plain fabric off and let it fall to the pavement in a billowing curtain.

It was him.

Standing before Alfonso Sotelo was a giant bronze statue of himself. But disconcertingly to the Prime Minister, he was joined upon the dais by the likeness of Miguel Tejero. Miguel Tejero - the man that had served as Spain's Prime Minister for sixteen of the 25 years of the republic, the man who had built the Second Republic without precedent, the man that Sotelo had ordered murdered in cold blood four years ago. In the hand of the bronze likeness of Spain's longest serving and most beloved Prime Minister, the crown of the Bourbon dynasty lingered lopsidedly in his fingers, as if he were ready to drop it to the ground like a piece of filth. The giant bronze Sotelo smiled warmly at the crown without a king to bear it.

Sotelo stood silently with the wadded curtains still bunched within his hands, staring wide-eyed at the bronze Tejero. He had been dumbstruck by the statue - perhaps even mortified - and the crowd had noticed. Songbirds chirped in the uncomfortable silence where cordial applause should have sounded.

"Excellency." The sculptor whispered nervously. "Do you like it?"

Sotelo's head twitched briefly as he galvanized himself from the terror of seeing the dead man's face yet again. Quickly, Prime Minister Sotelo calculated the appropriate response, and his insincere smile returned to his face.

"It is brilliant!" Sotelo exclaimed, clapping his hands together to prompt the onlookers to do the same. With the silence interrupted, the newcomers followed Sotelo's example and joined him in a reassuring applaused. "Truly, a masterpiece for the people of Madrid and their posterity to cherish forever."