Screens worldwide went black, before color began to fade back in. Bluish white light appeared in two points, slightly below center and equally spaced from the sides. The light expanded into lines, beginning to overwhelm the camera, before beginning to move in tandem.

Once the lights moved, they quickly resolved themselves as headlights. The car they were attached to started to move, driving towards the screen before veering screen left. The shape of the grill became clear - narrow slashes for the headlights sitting over a smooth black grill without vents and a low hood height flared on the sides to clear the wheels. As it surged forward through the turn, the oversized tires took center stage, the mag rims seeming to turn backwards due to the frame rate. The large, curved windshield and door windows were tinted black, making it difficult to tell where the body ended, and the windows began. The camera pulled back so the entire car could be seen, driving down a moonlit highway.

With the reflection of the light, viewers could make out more of the car. It was a collection of sharp edges connected by long curves, with windows that turned out to be several panes of glass coming together with an unbroken glass roof. The car turned again, and the camera followed from behind. The rear of the car was a continuation of the glass, sloping down sharply from the roof to the trunk. The back was slightly convex, the lines where the trunk would open practically invisible, and an unknown logo in the center. The camera held the shot for several seconds, directing the viewers focus on that logo, a triangle with the points cut off pointing down, with two ovoids inside and curved lines drawing back from the top.

After the focus on the logo, the car surged forward again, giving the viewer a sense of uncontained speed. Without warning, the car made a bootleg turn to point straight back at the camera. For the first time, a noticeable sound came through, a growl closer to a beast than an engine. The growling rose and fell as the car shuddered as though it was straining against a leash.

Figures began to emerge from the darkness around the car, barely visible in the light reflected from the asphalt. They crouched as they approached, moving slowly and carefully. Within a few seconds, dozens of the silhouettes surrounded the car. The closest approached the door and reached a hand towards it. The gull wing door flew open, hitting the figure and driving it back before slamming back into place. The figures began to scramble away, and the car launched forward, striking a handful of the figures and driving them to the ground. The car turned hard, circling around and through most of the figures still standing. The rear of the car filled the screen again, this time with a smear of something that looked black in the moonlight coating the trunk. The logo was splattered with blood, but as the car drove away, the logo remained. It became more detailed, the triangle becoming a scaled head, the ovoids black eyes and the arcs horns emerging from the top. A mouth opened and a gout of fire poured out of it, consuming the entire screen. As the fireball faded, words appeared on the screen.

"The Firestorm from Dragon Motorworks. Feel the power of a Dragon."

Slowly, the screen faded back to black.

The picture faded back in, this time showing a cozy looking living room, complete with roaring fire in the background. In the foreground, a high-backed wing chair made of a rich, deep brown leather sat next to a small end table directly before the fire. A large grey furred dog laid down beside the table, looking up at the man in the chair.

               The man in the chair was tall, thin, and elegantly dressed. His lustrous black hair was brushed back, showing a slight widow’s peak and a touch of grey at the temples. His clean-shaven face was pale white, though his lips were full and red. His black trousers were immaculately pressed without a hint of a wrinkle, his white shirt crisp and gleaming, his black jacket high collared and lined with red silk. He wore a red ascot loosely about his neck, and sharp observers would note the expensive cufflinks and diamond pin on his lapel. He rested his elbows on the chair arms, his fingers steepled together.

               He smiled to the camera as if just realizing it came on. “My fellow Americans,” he said, his voice deep and resonant. “Today, we are at a turning point for our great nation. The most important election in our country’s history is fast approaching – an election that is for the very soul of this nation. The results of this election will decide whether we move into the future together or regress and become just another fallen Empire.”

               He paused and lifted a glass from the table. It was filled with deep red wine, and he lifted the glass and took a long drink. As he set the glass down, a drop of the thick liquid remained on his lips, and he blotted it off with a white napkin. As he dropped the napkin on the table, the dog sat up and sniffed it. With the dog no longer curled up, it became clear that it was enormous, over three feet tall at the shoulder. It stood and moved closer to the man before sitting back down. The man casually laid a hand on its head and stroked it as he went on.

               “And for this most important of elections, who are the choices that the political parties have placed before us? The incumbent president, a woman who has kowtowed to every leader she has ever met, or the challenger, a religious leader who never heard of a sin he didn’t commit as soon as possible. There are candidates outside of the major parties, of course – the Bible salesman from New Jersey and the former Congresswoman from Minnesota would both like your votes, and if one is as detached from reality as them, that may be a choice.”

               He paused again to smooth his clothes and let the dog lay back down. “But I believe you – that we all – deserve better. America deserves a leader who will return us to our proper place as the single hegemon of this world. A leader who will not cowardly snivel when faced with other leaders. A leader who will not stupidly give away our power when foreign leaders flatter them. A leader who will use an iron fist in a velvet glove to ensure that America is first among nations, and that its people are first among humanity.

               “Friends, I am that leader. Today, I announce my candidacy for President. I promise you this, and this alone – if elected, America will again be the most powerful nation in the world, and the world will bow to our whims. We will shape the world to benefit America first, those that follow us second, and those that oppose us not at all.

               “I look forward to traveling this great nation and meeting with anyone who wishes it. I want to hear what a strong, powerful America is to you, and to do everything it takes to make those visions reality. Join me, and the world will tremble.”

               He smiled as he finished his statement, revealing straight, bright teeth with pronounced canines. The dog sat back up and gave a single deep and echoing bark as the man picked up the wine glass again. The man patted the dog again before draining the rest of the glass.

               The screen crosscut to a campaign poster showing the man standing on a cliff shaped like the east coast, looking out across the ocean at lights twinkling in the distance. In the poster he was dressed the same except for the addition of a long black cape that billowed behind him in the wind. The poster read, “Bryan C. Orlock – for a strong America”.

Greg rolled his eyes and said, "Are they seriously going to argue philosophy here?" He looked over to Sandy for agreement, and saw she was huddled in a ball in the corner of the couch. That commercial still had her terrified.

Rafe was tired of the philosophical talk as well, but more annoyed that Danny Boy was making inroads with Anastasia. "Russell and Aquinas are all well and good, though I prefer the works of the Greeks."

Anastasia turned to him, giving him the seductive smile he was craving. "That's an interesting case - the great Greek philosophers were not from the time of the Deist, so they were looking at the world as it was under the Pantheist."

Rafe smiled his own seductive smile in return and waved his hand. "How can any philosopher hold our interest when the answers to everything are before us? The time for philosophers has passed, I think."

"That is philosophy in itself, darling," Anastasia said, oblivious to Danny turning red and clenching his fists.

"Then let me be a new philosopher for a new world. One who experiences life in the sound of the berimbau, the taste of a pupuhna, or the scent of a beautiful woman."

"Experience, or understanding?"

"Experience must come first, Anastasia, in order to achieve understanding."

"You may be right, Rafael, but we shall try the other way first."

"Then I must ask, what of the heart? You speak of the mind and ignore the heart, and we come away with less understanding than before. In your new world, what is to become of what truly matters - art and the freedom to express our innermost beings?"

"I can promise you nothing but freedom," Anastasia said, her voice subdued. "I do not know what will happen to art - it will be what you make of it."

"As it always is - I do not think you shall change what matters that much."

Anastasia grinned, the air around her brightening. "You may regret saying that soon enough, Rafe."

Johnny took the opportunity with the camera on the other side of the table to check the time. He wasn't entirely sure if it mattered any more, but he was still controlled by the ad cycle. Only two left in the show, and the time for the next one was coming quickly.

"We are rapidly running out of time," Johnny said as soon as the conversation lulled, "so why don't we each ask one more question around the table?"

The screen cut back in to a street interview. A middle-aged brunette woman had a microphone in her face and had been asked a question before it cut in. Her cheeks were flushed to a light pink from the cold, and her breath clouded as she spoke.

"From the first moment I saw her, I just knew. She is here to save us all, no matter who we are. With her, I just feel safe."

Another woman pushed into frame, a younger version of the first woman with dirty blonde hair. "She gives off a vibe, you know? She gets us."

The camera cut to a different street, with a group of four men and two women. The tallest of the men, a handsome Black man with a shaved head, took the lead in talking to the camera. "You can tell - she cares about us. I don't know much about her, but I don't need to. I know that she wants the world to be a better place."

One of the women hugged the man who was speaking and leaned into the camera. "She's going to turn everything around. She gets us."

The camera cut again, this time to a beach with palm trees in the background. A hispanic family was spread out on the beach, with the mother talking into the microphone. "She will straighten out the evil in the world - I know she will protect the families. She cares."

Her young daughter ran up and hugged her mom's legs, and the microphone was redirected to the kid. "SHE GETS US!" the kid screamed into the microphone.

The commercial shifted from interviews to showing images from around the world. A group of people in brightly colored clothes ritually bathing in a river, a tall woman with flowing hair standing with her back to the camera, helping to clean those around her. Thousands of people kneeling and praying in front of a massive black stone, the same woman from the last scene kneeling among the others. A group in shiny choir robes, singing praise with the woman from the previous groups. Finally, the woman surrounded by a huge crowd, each reaching out for her.

The woman turned, touching everyone as she did so. She turned towards the camera just enough for it to see the side of her face. Anastasia winked at the camera before turning back to the people, and the screen was covered by the words, "Anastasia. She Gets Us."