Hannah Bishop was not a happy woman.
The long road that had brought her to a historic first of a presidency had forged into her to a compassionate yet steely lady. At age 44, she was fit, attractive, and sharp as a knife, having managed to win a narrow victory as the first independent President of the United States in centuries, all on a positive message about buckling down and fixing the country's problems through hard work and cooperation. There had been no shortage of criticisms, but she'd avoided any real controversy or scandals, keeping a clean-as-a-whistle record and even seeing some legitimate success in her domestic and foreign policies.
When she'd been informed on her first day that aliens and superscience were facts of life, she had taken it in stride. Thus far, she had addressed the intricacies of technologies straight out of science fiction and negotiations with all the aliens that used Earth as a neutral world with impressive tact. It wasn't easy, keeping such diverse interests as the Valkarians or the Syrrak or the Tynari satisified, but she'd pulled it off - it helped that these matriarchal powers appreciated a woman finally representing the most powerful nation on Earth.
The day after that, upon being confronted with the reality of the paranormal and the World Witches Council, she had again acquitted herself well. Extraterrestrials had gotten her ready to accept Witchcraft, and the entire Witch-composed specops division of the Army that was now at her command. Maven Restar, the Council's liason with the White House, had even taken a bit of a shine to Hannah, forging a quick friendship and excellent working relationship with the occasional flirtatious exchange that made Bishop question whether America was ready for an openly bisexual president.
She'd even kept a level head in various crises, keeping the government operational during a mermaid empidemic, and helping to mediate a combined effort by SALEM and the Council to wipe out the world's memories of the event. That she had kept her cool during such a worldwide catastrophe was proof positive that she was a president well-equipped to handle incidents which threatened the veil of secrecy that kept the world from freaking out about all the magic and extraterrestrial problems that the panet faced.
So as she sat down at the big table, looking out over all her advisors and cabinet officials and officers as a holographic display of various events in San Diego played out, the death glare she gave each one of them was a deeply troubling sign.
"Who wants to tell me what the fuck happened?" She growled.
The group of men and women who were supposed to be her right hands were all silent for a moment, before one of them finally found the courage to speak up. It was an appropraite individual, at least - Evangeline Regan, the general who commanded SALEM. "The details are unclear, Madam President, but... we have a working theory." Glaring intently at the general, Hannah waved for her to continue. "Last night, it appears that a college party in San Diego was afflicted by an outbreak of a magical contaminent, likely in an alchemical form. It was somehow introduced to the drinks being served, and resulted in... alterations, to those who consumed it."
The holodisplay in the center of the table shifted to various images and videos of bimbos and succubi rampaging around the party house and the surrounding neighborhood - it had thousands of images to cycle through, thanks to the enormous exposure by both media and people posting photos and videos online. "SALEM, with the assistance of the Guild of Hunters, was able to contain the outbreak before it spread beyond the neighborhood. But in the process, significant evidence was shared online... and the press got a hold of it." The display again switched, now showing the hundreds of stories about the 'San Diego Incident' playing on every international news network.
Groaning, Hannah rubbed her temple. "And that led to the other big thing?"
Regan cleared her throat awkwardly before replying. "We think so, ma'am, but ah... we're... not entirely sure, yet, how the two incidents are related..."
"Two mass outbreaks of magic bimbos, and you're not sure of the connectio?"
"Well, no, ma'am, we-" She paused, flipping over to the display of another party, this one on the beach and loaded with more blonde sex addicts. "This doesn't seem to have been a case of contaminated drinks, ma'am. It seems like these bimbos were passing it through sexual contact... possibly some kind of were-condition only transmitted through sexual means." She swallowed quietly. "Those who were affected seem to be able to return to a non-bimbo state... it ah, it seems like they enjoy converting others as well, but it's not overwhelming, and they don't seem to force it on those who are completely unwilling."
The president drummed her other hand on the table. "Very fascinating, but I'm mostly interested in... her."
An awkward silence hung over the room, before Regan sighed, and display switched over to a woman floating in the air with... very, very discint attire.
"Anna Wayne, student at CalTech, San Diego native, appears to have contracted... abilities, somehow. They ah... they appear to be a close match for..."
"The superhero." Bishop sighed. "The comic book lady, Athena, I think. And what does she call herself?"
"...Superbimbo, ma'am."
"Superbimbo." She drummed her fingers on the table a few more times. "There's a horde of men and women who've become demons or sex maniacs, and a woman with bona fide superpowers is running around San Diego." She glanced across the room. "Ladies and Gentlemen, there will be hell to pay when I find out why the hell we didn't catch this - but for the moment, I need solutions. How we get this cat back in the bag."
It wasn't one of her own people that spoke up next, but rather, the dark-haired beauty Maven that had the iron will to address an infuriated president. "I've consulted with the Council, and with General Regan-" The sideye she gave to her magical counterpart spoke volumes. "The unfortunate reality is that we can't put the cat back in the bag."
"Really?" She raised an eyebrow. "We made the whole world forget about the song that turned billions into lesbian mermaids, and we can't cover up one incident in San Diego?"
"Perhaps if knowledge of the incident had been contained, we could have effected a solution. But the Council and Salem's ritualists are still incapcitated from the pandemic of which you speak." She sighed quietly. "A worldwide spell of memory erasure would be required to rescure the veil, but that is simply not possible - and partial erasures serve no purpose. By the time we could prepare something on so grand a scale, though, the memories would be stuck in too deep, too old to be ripped away without reducing billions to a vegatative state."
This just got better and better. "So what, we just... give up on the Veil?"
"Yes, Madam President. I believe that's the best option."
A few murmurs spread through the room, as Bishop momentarily froze. "Seriously?"
For a long moment, Maven pursed her lips, as if contemplating something - before finally speaking up with a reluctant tone. "Hannah... the Council is divided on what to do, but... there are greater forces at play." She was stern in her gaze, staring straight into the president's eyes. "It's become evident recently that some enormous event was averted. Something should have played out yet was stopped - and Fate does not appreciate being denied. Whatever disaster we swerved away from, Destiny demands that it be paid its world-changing due..."
Regan finished as Maven trailed off. "...and lifting the Veil might be a best case scenario."
Farther up the table, another woman scoffed, speaking up with a kiwi accent as she leaned forwad, showing off the details on her Air Force dress uniform. "So what, you want to throw away centuries of secrecy - centuries that this country has spent hundreds of billions of dollars preserving - all because of fate?"
"You got anything better, Hetzer?"
The colonel quickly shut up, leaning back in her chair as she could offer no answers. "Thought not. Johnson, you have something."
The blonde scientist shook her head, though she was as confident as ever when she replied in that distinct Southern drawl. "'Fraid not, ma'am. We did some crunchin', to see if maybe Dancepet could be adapted, but gettin' it to that scale, and workin' out all the potential for brain damage - that'd take years."
At least she was honest. "So... effectively, our best option is to get out ahead of this while we can and try to do damage control." Her jaw shifted around for a few moments, the room proving to be silent of any further advice, before she finally out a small sigh. "Alright. If that's what we've got, that's what we've got. Maven, let your friends know we're gonna spill the beans - Regan, get your girls ready for the spotlight. Rest of you, helping them get our ducks in a row is a top priority - I want a full plan by the end of the day, and readiness for the announcement by the end of the week."
She took up, letting out one last huff. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to figure out how I'm going to tell the American people that we uses witches to fight aliens."