[center][h1]Sean Dowall[/h1][/center]

	[color=0072bc]Mate av just seen you on youtube[/color] Pinky said in the group chat. Sean glanced at his phone as the Irish national anthem went off briefly. "Mr Dowall, if you please," Dmitry Karkevsky growled, the thick accent providing more threat to the statement.
	"Aye mate, no worries, sorry about that," Sean said, tucking the phone back into his pocket. It rang again and Sean's face went white. He stood up and exited, glad to be behind cover from the venomous glare of the Russian Premier. He opened up his contacts and found Pinky who he phoned, the other man enthusiastically picking up immediately. "I'm in a meeting with the Karkevsky, Olsen, Scott, Jeprain, a whole shit-tonne of others, and you keep blowing my phone up, what's wrong?" Sean asked irately.
	"Bud, you're on YouTube, and you've got nearly 5 billion views. I'm not even shitting you. Who's Scott, by the way?" Pinky asked.
	"Are you joking? The British Prime Minister? George Scott? You nonce," said Sean as he opened up YouTube. There it was at the very top, Most Viewed, Hottest, Most Popular. Sean Dowall, 28-year-old joiner, was a YouTube celebrity.
	"My mate who works on the Venus rigs says they're all chatting about it over there. Crumbs has got a brother on a Jupiter asteroid right now and they're rooting for you too. Mate, you're a legend nowadays. You can't even go down Belfast town for a bevy now that you're President of the World, can you?"
	"Have some tinnies in the house, mate, the sesh never dies. I've gotta head, the Russian bloke is heavy pissed at me and he's got soldiers hanging out his pockets," Sean said. Pinky said goodbye and Sean returned to the meeting and muted his phone, but could feel it now erupting like Vesuvius in his pocket: the other boys had caught wind of the message. 
	"I think it's agreed that we have to act united here. As some of the, frankly, most powerful nations on Earth, we have to show we're together on this, otherwise the radicals are going to simply out-campaign us. If that happens, we'd have to strip back stellar activity and we'd all be thrown out of office," George Scott said, sitting back in his chair, his thumb and forefinger clamped on the end of his moustache. 
	"I think it is dangerous situation we have gotten ourselves into, and we cannot sit here and say we are going to act defiant for long time when we have own people to care for. If my people begin to radicalise, I must radicalise too. However, I can guarantee that no dangerous action will happen if you gentleman accept this. If you cannot and I then radicalise then we will have problem on hands that stretches beyond border disputes. I will have to bend to people's way so that the next Premier elected will not be war happy. My radicalisation is much safer than anyone else's radicalistion, and you men must also accept that this is simply best way to ensure safety for others," Karkevsy said. He shrugged softly, uncaringly, then clasped his hands and crossed his legs.
	"That is simply preposterous. There is no way I am going to go back on this deal. Thv'ar came to me, we forged this deal, and we're in it for the long run. Control your country or I'll control it for you," Olsen said, leaning over the table. On it were mugs full of cold coffee, crumbs from toast eaten many, many hours ago. Karkevsky looked disgusted at the memory of watching the alien visitor exiting the White House.
	"You do not understand way of Russian, [i]Olsen[/i]. When Russian is upset, we cancel what is upsetting us. When Russian is cheated, we right what has been cheated from us. When Russian is threatened, Russia will follow through. Any more of weak American threats and Russia will follow through," Karkevsky spat.
	"Gentlemen, sit. I think I have heard enough. It is clear that the issue is not whether we can keep this deal, I think the issue is whether or not our people can keep this deal. And let me speak honestly, they cannot. There are too many radicals, bigots, supremacists to allow the planet to exist this way. What we, as the leaders, must do is make sure that no-one has any predilections towards causing any... murmurs. We are all content with the terms of the agreement, yes?" Most everyone in the room nodded. "What we must be prepared to do is to limit what the people may be willing to do. I think we may be forced to return to the bad times, but hopefully this is for the greater good," Jepain said. Her French accent could entice many listeners, and persuade them, if he wanted to, but the German Chancellor, Gittering, was on his toes.
	"There is absolutely no way that I will let me country return to that barbaric behaviour, and I would have expected you to know better. There are ways to do this without becoming murderers."
	Sean cleared his throat. "If I may?"
	"No you many not, you fool," Karkevsky said. "You are here honorary, not for any important reason. We are discussing here."
	"Shut up, Dmitry," Gittering said followed by some muttered insults from Scott.
	"He has more right to speak than you do, you malevolent toilet bowl," said the Australian Prime Minister, Baker. "Carry on, son."
	Sean stood up and walked to the white board and grabbed a pen. "Firstly, this is entirely possible in a non-violent manner. Secondly, we do it by giving out memberships."
	"Wait, what?" Olsen asked, stopping halfway from putting the Oreo in his mouth.
	"We allow people to become members of the CIR, otherwise many of their privileges at home will be cut short, discounts, fuel prices, tech prices etcetera. Meanwhile, President Olsen can talk with Thv'ar about our situation, try to convince him to pass a law that says anyone with an affiliation with the CIR who breaks their laws can be jailed at their whim, and then I assume they'll do what they're told. SOace jail is scarier than Earth jail," Sean said.
	"I think that just sounds fucking stupid and incoherent, but I'm not sure," Scott said.
	"He won't do it," Olsen said.
	"Sit down you moron," Karkevsky said.
	"I don't think you are grasping what I'm telling you here," Sean said. He pointed at the illustrations on the board, visually aiding his talk. "What I'm saying is we make them buy into this ordeal, and if they don't, they're going against the CIR. If they think they can get away with buying in and fucking around, they're gonna get a rude awakening. It's foolproof," Sean finished. The men and women around the table considered it for a moment. France's woman looked around.
	"Well, shall we consider this option number 1?" she asked.
	

	Not an hour later, Sean was on a jet to Port Canaveral, notes in front of him. A pretty stylist was fixing his hair and another was putting some make-up on, while the male stylist was picking out clothes for him.
	"Jenna, what do you think about pink? A friendly, informal colour," Augusto asked. Augusto was the kind of man you wanted being your stylist, as another man. Augusto was tall, handsome, full of muscles, and an absolute ladykiller. His deep Italian accent and bronze skin grabbed the attention of many, his soft yet thick dark hair only helped to accent his sharp facial features, and his natural affinity with words was marvellous. The issue with the 'ladykiller' part is that he was gay, and the women would fall and he would spy a man of equal beauty walking past, and before the end of the night they would have a tub of Ben & Jerry's, weeping about how their love and been lost in the wind. Augusto was that gorgeous. Sean was very, very glad that this was the man dressing him.
	"Sean is not exactly the kind of man who would wear pink," Jenna replied in her New York accent. She was preppy and blonde, full of pep, and by all standards stunning.
	"Midnight blue, Italian, maroon tie," Anastasia said, her Russian accent sounding far more exotic than it actually was. Anastasia had raven black hair, dark eyes, and pasty white skin, her cold and sultry look making her by far the most intriguing, and therefore the most attractive to Sean. He couldn't help but staring every now and again. Augusto could see the sense in what Anastasia said, as he leapt to the job. 
	"We will be landing in 20 minutes, buckle your seatbelts," the Captain said. Anastasia put her stuff in the toolbox and put it in the cabin above, then sat down in the seat she occupied to Sean's left, and Augusto to his right. Suddenly Sean felt like he went from a 7 to a 3 in his looks.

	As the gusty atmosphere entered the cabin, Sean looked outside at the rolling sea of rising and falling cameras. Anastasia stood behind him and whispered in his ear, "You are not a celebrity, you are a politician, do not wave," she said. 
	Augusto was a little further behind when he said, "You are dressed in some of the best clothes in the world, fitted perfectly. When we say you look handsome, you are. Act like it." He exited the plane and walked straight towards the stage, looking and smiling at the occasional camera. The stage loomed closer and he took each step, one at a time. There was no rush, he was enjoying the breeze on a typical walk through the park, enjoying the views. He breathed slowly and deeply. He smiled like he knew what he was doing. From his inside pocket, the notes were taken out and put on the stand. Sean looked around once again, taking in the vastness of his audience.
	"Ladies and gentleman. I don't think I have to remind you, but this is the first day of a brand new revelation to us. This is the first day of things you have never witnessed before. And behind me, those are the beasts that will take us farther than anything you've imagined. They'll take each and every one of you to opportunities you'll never expect, and people you'll never want to leave. I do not need to remind you that the entire race is on display, but I do implore you to show them the one-of-a-kind personalities that make us human. We are humans and we've done so much. We've risen, fallen, and risen again, and now we've been placed on a platform that elevates us beyond anything you've pictured. Our humanity will drive us further than anyone will expect. Do us proud. I'll see you somewhere out there, in the infinite," Sean said. He waved shortly, and turned to his left to meet his team of publicists, bodyguards, stylists, and mates, who he couldn't leave behind on Earth. Anastasia shook her head as she watched the wave, and together they all sauntered to the largest of the three ships, destined for Vrou'k.