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“It took a little longer than we expected, but the control line is finished” Fred explains, Jaime remaining patiently sat behind her desk, hearing the chief continue, “there’s a lot of damage done outside of the line, but we’ve got a few hundred yards of blackened forest between us and the rest of the city.” Though pleased at the completion of her project, Jaime takes great dissatisfaction in the divide presented, the charred trees seen in the distance through the view of her office window.
Elbow laid upon her armrest, hand holding her chin up as she looks toward the only view of the city she has, Jaime asks the fire chief what his greatest hopes for the future are. “I’d just like to provide for my family, Ms. Morris” Fred replies, Jaime’s chair slowly turning toward the man at the head of her room, looking at him with a straight-forward glare, almost as if she were expecting Fred to reply with something more. “What is the one thing your department wants more than anything else?” Jaime proceeds to ask, the question stumping the man for a moment, such a thought never having crossed his mind. “I suppose we’d like to be able to grow in numbers” Fred responds, not many things immediately coming to mind aside from what he’s now put forward, “it’d be nice to, in the event of a major event being brought forward, not have to completely exasperate our man power.” Smiling behind her hand, Jaime gives Fred a nod and proves good on her word, the dedication he’s shown to her city being something she refuses to overlook. “The families of every fire department worker and volunteer will be made a priority when food supplies are handed out, and are to be on the shortlist in the event a shortage ever does occur” Jaime replies, the gesture putting a smile on the man’s face, his satisfaction not yet reaching its peak. “Furthermore, I will organize a drive with the hopes of enticing more people to volunteer for your workforce” Jaime explains, her hand held out as she offers Fred the position of a place in her future cabinet. “If we’re going to make this work, we need to function as a full government, the only people we can depend on being ourselves” Jaime explains, her hand remaining extended, “in order to do that, I’m putting together a cabinet to oversee things I have little knowledge of. I want you on it.” Promising to keep the man in his position as fire chief, Jaime places him in charge of all emergency service personnel, his power expanding with the simple acceptance of her offer. With a smile, Fred shakes the woman’s hand and treats the offer as an honor, explaining how proud he is to serve beneath her. With a nod, Jaime hears the tapping at her door call for her attention, promising to keep in touch with Fred as he is excused. Graciously leaving the room, Fred passes Kennedy and Amelia, both of whom remain slightly perturbed by Jaime, though accept her success as a fair-played game. “I still wish you told us” Kennedy explains, both she and Amelia being assured by Los Angeles’ ruler that she regrets not doing so sooner. “Neither of you have given me a reason not to trust you” Jaime explains, accepting the error in her own ways, “I shouldn’t have taken actions that would suggest that’s not case.” Accepting her sister’s apology, Kennedy directs the conversation toward Chevy and Kayla, a smile threatening to break out across her face as Jaime updates her. “We’ve got another crew heading out to the bunker. They’ll oversee the rest of the convoy they were leading” Jaime responds, a grin on her face that refuses to be hidden emerging as she concludes, “Chevy, Kayla and the baby-to-be are bound for Los Angeles tomorrow evening.” Over the moon, Kennedy voices her pleasure in the result as Alex begins knocking at the door. “I’m not interrupting anything, right?” Alex replies, the three girls inside welcoming her upon first glance. “I was just telling Kennedy about Chevy and Kayla” Jaime responds, Alex’s eyes set on Kennedy’s enthusiastic face, taking appreciation in getting to see such a rare sight. “Am I late for dinner I wasn’t aware of?” Jaime mutters to herself, the question not directed at anything other than a blank corner of the room whilst Alex’s eyes fall upon the sound of her voice. “Honey, Julia needs you whenever you have a minute” Alex replies, Jaime’s eyebrows furrowing at the suggestion, “I guess she has a question about Jordan’s kidneys?” Nothing to offer other than that, Alex looks at her daughter with a shared confusion, her mind not coming up with any reason as to why such questions would be asked. “Thanks for letting me know” Jaime responds, leaving her chair and tossing her coat over the back, preparing to brace the summer heat. “We won't mess with any of your shit, promise” Kennedy calls back, knowing where her sister’s concerns would lay, a playful eye roll given back as Jaime rounds the corner. = Dire is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 Media from the start of Season 1 onwards = “What have we learned thus far?” Chevy asks, standing beside a whiteboard with an uncapped marker in his hand, Kayla sat in a chair a few feet away from him as the rest of their convoy remain seated around a table. “The catalyst is known as ‘Project 1172’ to government officials, the mission was a failure and all government personnel were redirected to this bunker” a voice calls out from afar, speaking with the stroke of Chevy’s hand, “very few made it.” Calling out for additional responses, Chevy begins to write these different descriptors at various places on the board, treating it more like a puzzle to solve than a bullet-pointed list. “The president- and supposedly the rest of his family- died en-route to the complex” another voice calls out, adding the declaration to cease government function, “it appears as though the catalyst has occurred across the globe and all fingers are pointed at us.” The woman who’d just concluded her point being pointed out, Chevy calls for her to continue through the rest of her findings, taking interest in the way she recalls the information. “Come on, Carly… What else do we have here?” Chevy calls out, the woman immediately sinking back into her chair, feet kicked upon a footrest hidden beneath the table. “The acid rainstorm seems to be moving west with no end in sight and few countries are fully operational” the young woman continues, paused by Chevy. “The acid storm is continuing to move west, and it’s already made it past the Pacific” Chevy explains, looking out at the convoy-populated table, “that means it can cross the Atlantic again with ease.” The last estimation they’ve made puts the rainstorm right at the coastline of Europe and Africa, Chevy notes the approach it is taking upon the Atlantic ocean, the threat of it crossing back into the country and coming around for a second time now likely. “Keep going, Carly” Chevy exclaims, a moment to process this conclusion preceding his return to transcribing every piece of information into one, collected source. “Major cities have fallen, the federal government is non-existent, and there has been no contact from democratic powers within this country to the outside world since the first few days of the catalyst” Carly concludes, the remnants of what she has to offer being discarded with the re-capping of Chevy’s marker. Hands upon his hips, Chevy looks at the assortment of notes with wonder, his eyes darting from one note to another, all in different patterns, trying to visualize a connection between what has been offered. “I want to know how it failed, why it failed, and who ordered the president to fly out in the middle of the storm” Chevy explains, the major questions left unanswered not being unaccompanied by anything less than missing pieces of the puzzle. “I want to know which cities are still standing, which we have communication with, and what our line of defense is from within this complex” Chevy continues, gazing at the board for another few seconds before uncapping his marker once more. With his hand’s guidance, the marker’s tip glides along the whiteboard before being capped yet again, returned to a holder at the base of the board and made visible to the rest of the room, one question left in the center of every note. “What is left?” the words describe, very little else left to be answered than that, allowing Chevy immediately walking away from the board and venture out into the depths of the bunker. After a few minutes, Kayla catches up to her boyfriend, the man entering a vehicle with the intention of going out for a drive, his efforts halted by the time Kayla taps upon his passenger’s window. “Got any room for another?” the woman asks, Chevy’s pre-occupied expression making room for a humorous eye roll, his hand guided toward the door, unlocking it. Parking beneath an assortment of trees in the midst of a long-abandoned hiking trail, Chevy emerges from his vehicle and rushes over to the opposite side, opening the door for his pregnant girlfriend before looking toward the most-scenic trail offered. “I never thought- with as often as I stayed indoors- that I’d be willingly going on a hike” Chevy explains, the thought bewildering him, its existence only bringing light to Kayla’s puzzling predicament. “I never would’ve thought I’d want a child, but here we are” she replies, a chuckle brought out of Chevy before a few seconds pass, the man immediately asking where she’d originally expected herself to be. “What, had the world not ended?” Kayla responds, the confirmation of such dialogue prompting her to give the question some thought, never one to have planned too far out into the future. “I guess I would’ve expected to be a teacher somewhere” Kayla replies, the thought of having children never before something she was interested in, but helping them develop as people was a direction that always intrigued her, “maybe it wouldn’t have happened this soon, but I’d have hoped for it eventually.” Tucking his hands into his pockets, Chevy continues to stroll along the partially-overgrown path, the clouds ahead suggesting rainfall that refuses to come to earth, its effects only on the moody appearance of the sky. “You never thought you’d want to have a kid?” Chevy responds, the question never having been something worth asking before now, its existence leaving Kayla very little alternative. “It’s not like I hate kids, I just never gave it the thought of if I wanted them” Kayla replies, admitting that she never expected to find someone worth starting a family with. Trying to keep his smile hidden, Chevy allows the mother-to-be to continue speaking, their stroll nearly taking them to the peak of their journey. “The world wasn’t a place to find love before. It was all a bunch of pointless hookups” Kayla explains, the old world having slowly drained her of hope in them. “Love didn’t seem possible at some point- and I’m not sure when- but it did somewhere along the lines” Kayla continues, still keeping up with her other half, “I never assumed I’d be able to find it.” Greatly appreciating her change in outlook, Chevy admits that the world ending could have helped in that regard, but his appreciation for what they’ve become has never lessened. Their original conversation ending there, the pair approach their final stretch, legs carrying them to a dead-end overlooking a mountainous area covered in all sorts of fauna, one waterfall off in the distance breaking through the field of green. In astonishment, Kayla walks up to the very edge of the path, her knees pressing against the metal barrier as she looks out amongst the landscape, the sights she’s blessed with the luxury of seeing provide her with a sense of peace. “End of the world or not, I’m glad mother nature keeps kicking” Kayla remarks, looking to her left to find her love no longer beside her, the space to each end of her vacant. “Chev-?” Kayla mutters, stopping herself as she turns around, the man she’d accompanied to the vantage point knelt a few yards behind her, on one knee with a pair of rings in the palm of his right hand. “Chevy, what’s-?” Kayla asks, almost unsure of how to approach the sight, something dedicated to her not coming across as real at first, her mind unable to process the gesture until Chevy begins to answer. “Kayla Barnett, for god’s sake- will you finally change your last name and marry me?” Chevy asks aloud, his words not skipping a beat, the woman taking a moment to accept the reality she’s walked into before a tear rolls from her eye. “Sure, I’ll change my last name” Kayla responds, pausing for a moment to catch her breath, her bearings having eluded her for a moment, “and yes- yes, I’ll marry you.” Returning to his feet, Chevy approaches his newly-minted fiance and takes one of the rings to her finger, the band sliding upon her hand with ease. Doing the same with the second ring upon his own hand, Chevy pulls Kayla into an embrace, a kiss shared between the couple before the scenic background. | “I hear you were asking for me?” Jaime calls out, entering Jordan’s hospital room to find Julia checking over his vitals as per usual, the doctor looking back upon her presence. Greeting the woman, Julia quickly reaches out for a chair, dragging it beside Jordan’s bed before occupying a second seat. “I don’t want to alarm you” Julia explains, watching Jaime occupy the chair before her, hand reaching out for Jordan’s, “as of this moment, Jordan’s in a curious position.” Concerned, Jaime asks the woman to elaborate, the conversation recalling their initial introduction to the issue. “When Jordan first emerged from surgery, I said he should awaken from his coma within a few weeks” Julia explains, the edge of that prediction quickly approaching, “he doesn’t show signs of coming out of this thing any more than he originally did.” Pulling back, Jaime presses into the chair and looks toward her fiance, a smile coming across her face to not allow her to appear worried. “I thought you said he was ‘getting better’?” Jaime replies, Julia quickly explaining that such a case was true both then and now. “The fact that his vitals are still average is a good thing- actually, it’s a great thing” Julia explains, the concern being left with the potential length of the coma he has left to endure. “The longer someone spends in a coma, the less likely it is that they’ll wake up” Julia explains, the dread beginning to slowly encumber Los Angeles’ leader, “the reason for that is usually brain damage.” Quickly reminding the doctor that Jordan was shot in the chest rather than in the head, Jaime finds herself approached with the issue of his surgery. “We had to revive him on the table before we could begin the operation, so we’re not sure how long he wasn’t breathing” Julia explains, the lack of an operable EEG machine in the building making it impossible to accurately diagnose, “there’s a chance the issue is worse than we had originally assumed.” Letting go of Jordan’s hand, Jaime removes herself from the chair and approaches the curtained-window, tossing the blinds open to reveal a sunset, her breathing unsteady with this revelation’s weight. “If you’re trying to tell me something, I’m going to ask that you please stop building up to it” Jaime explains, trying to calm herself before glancing back at Julia, “-just rip the bandaid off.” Her lips puckered, Julia hangs her head for a moment before leaving her seat, walking up to Jaime’s side and placing her hand on the woman’s shoulder. “While there is a chance that we could be worried over nothing,” Julia begins, watching the tears form in Jaime’s eyes, “-there’s a chance Jordan isn’t going to make it.” Lip quivering, Jaime wipes away the loose salty droplet and replaces her sad-stricken expression with one of rage, her eyes set on the hospital room door as her feet carry her through the entrance. Without wanting to add any burden, Lazarus takes after the woman in silence, simply following to spectate what comes next. | “Ugh, you again?” Kennedy greets, Chris stood on the opposite side of the door she holds the handle of, his understandable awkward grin being given in return. “Hello, littlest one” Chris responds, Kennedy refusing to answer the man’s greeting, instead looking him up and down, still sure of her hesitancy to dislike him, but uncertain of her reasons why. “You creep me out” Kennedy rebuts, moving aside to allow the man entry, his half-hearted appreciation being noted on the way inside. “Hello” Alex greets, emerging from within the home, a sleek red dress covering her body, the suit upon Chris’ person looking inferior by contrast. “Well if this isn’t a sight to behold, I don’t really know what is!” Chris exclaims, wrapping his arm around the woman and giving her a kiss, the verbal disgust at the sight made apparent by Kennedy. Without another word, Kennedy leaves the room and directs herself to the pool, the couple taking this as their signal to leave. Entering a small restaurant recently reopened, Chris and Alex take a seat at one of the many booths and look over their menus beneath the dim lighting. “It’s nice to see the local businesses opening back up again” Chris admits, quick to point out that the improved direction of the city suggests a return to the closest normal they can obtain. “Normal is good” Alex replies, the irony of that statement being present in the weeks and months behind her, the current day finding that truth to be welcomed amongst her conscience. “How’s Jaime been lately?” Chris asks, the knowledge of Jordan’s worsened condition known between few more than the pair and a select group within Los Angeles’ first-family. “Honestly, I worry for her” Alex responds, placing the menu upon the tabletop and looking up at her date for the evening, “there’s never been someone like Jordan in her life before.” With a laugh, Chris finds himself unable to accept such a finding as factual, questioning how she could have become the wealthy entrepreneur she was without guidance from someone other than Jordan. “She had a therapist she was very close to for a long time” Alex replies, thanking the waiter as he places two glasses of water between them, “but she’s never had anyone other than family and associates.” Putting in their orders, Alex and Chris continue their conversation, the doctor immediately noticing how lonely of a life that sounds like. “I know I spent little time outside of school when I was younger, but I had friends” Chris explains, not sure what he would have become without that. “So is that why she keeps so many people away from her?” Chris asks, little other reason having come to Alex’s mind over the years. “I don’t know if she thinks she’s worth being cared about” the woman responds, the suggestion striking home with her date as a common ground is found between himself and the woman employing him, “I don’t think anyone other than Jordan ever existed in that way, at least not completely before.” Without much to say, Chris comes to his own conclusion, the thoughts he asks himself accidentally being spoken aloud. “It’s almost like she’d lose it without Jordan there to support her?” Chris replies, the somber realization something that doesn’t sit well with Alex, but doesn’t appear to be far off from the truth. “I think that’s a fair statement to make” she responds, not pleased with such a fact, but unwilling to ignore it when presented. | “Well if it isn’t the queen” a snobby inmate replies, watching Jaime enter the room, quick to try his hand at irking her, “what can I do your royal anus for?” Immediately wishing the man were more like Ryan, Jaime approaches the man’s table and takes a seat opposite him, the confidence he wears making her sick. “Your name is Caleb Brightwell, correct?” Jaime asks, the man answering by confidently blowing her a kiss. “What role did you play in this little group of yours?” Jaime asks, the smile he wears upon his face immediately enraging the woman, her intentions having been to come into this interview with a clear mind. Reaching down, Jaime presents a plastic cup filled with water, placing it upon the table before reaching into her boot, hand removing her unloaded revolver. “Woah, chill the fuck out lady!” Caleb immediately shouts, watching Jaime reach into her pocket to load her weapon with ammunition. “I have six bullets to load into this revolver, and I’ve heard you’re the most likely to cooperate” Jaime responds, clearing her throat as she takes the first bullet into her fingers, “you have until this gun is loaded to give me a reason not to kill you.” Unsure of what the woman is looking for, Caleb begins scrambling for useful information, the first bullet sliding into the cylinder before he can ask what she’s looking to for inspiration. “I don’t care what it is, just tell me everything you know” Jaime replies, quickly taking the second bullet into the cylinder, the visual aid proving to be the closest thing Caleb can get to an hourglass. “I’ve heard you get dry mouth when you’re paranoid… I can’t imagine this is helping much” Jaime explains, playing around with the third bullet whilst looking toward the water. Understanding what she’s trying to get at, Caleb takes down half of the beverage, the sweat beginning to shine on his forehead as the third barrel flirts with falling into place. “We’re a small group, we call ourselves the peacekeepers- I don’t know what more you want!” Caleb explains, his cocky persona having completely disappeared as the third bullet slips into place. “What more do you want from me!?” Caleb shouts, feeling like he’s been sentenced to death, given the false hope at being able to change his fate only to realize how much of a mirage it truly was, “seriously, I’ll tell you what I want to know.” “Tell me whatever’s worth keeping you alive for” Jaime responds, still unwilling to give the man any life preserver to reach out for, the anxiety quickly becoming gut-twisting. Downing the rest of his water, Caleb’s shaky hands fail to let go of the empty plastic cup, watching the fourth bullet slide into place, his mind reaching for the deepest secrets he can exchange the in return for his survival. “You’ve got us all locked away down here, and the only place we’d meet is that bar” Caleb continues to plead, watching Jaime’s hand push the fifth bullet into the cylinder, a panic setting in as the sixth and final bullet is taken between her thumb and index finger. Placing the brass jacket toward the remaining opening, Jaime allows Caleb one more chance at offering something of value, a spurt of moment exclamation putting the process to a standstill. “We were supposed to miss!” Caleb exclaims, watching Jaime’s eyebrows furrow as she removes the sixth bullet entirely. Looking at her watch, Jaime quickly tells the man to explain himself, the little information he can offer presenting little to base a full conclusion off of. “Justin Skhrelli- he’s the guy who planned out the attack” Caleb continues, desperately pleading his case, “the plan was to kill you, but on the day before, he changed the plan.” “He changed the plan how?” Jaime replies, tucking the fifth bullet back into her pocket and letting the near-loaded gun rest in her upward-pointed left hand. “I don’t know exactly, but he came into our last meeting and said he was bribed to change the plan” Caleb explains, the revelation he offers proving to be a perception-altering one, “he said the new plan was to aim for your boyfriend. He didn’t say anything other than that.” Nostrils flaring, Jaime looks toward her revolver and quickly spins the cylinder, slamming it shut at random before taking aim at Caleb, the man immediately pleading for his life to be spared. “You have a one-in-six chance of surviving as far as stats go” Jaime explains, the man nearly wetting himself as she moves her finger to the trigger, “if you strike gold, I’ll let you leave this room a free man.” Preferring imprisonment, Caleb pleads with the woman to let him live in his confines, the request falling upon deaf ears as Jaime’s mind is already made up. “One” Jaime begins, pulling the hammer back and squinting her eye, watching Caleb continue to plead for his life. “Two” she continues, watching Caleb curl up into a ball much the same as Ryan once had, preparing for his life to be over. “Three” Jaime says, pulling the trigger and letting nothing but a click sound off, the gasp-broken breaths of Caleb proceeding to fill the room, his head turning back toward the woman, who lowers her gun. “Congratulations” the woman remarks, tossing the man a pair of keys, the gun lowering to her hip, “you’re a free man.” Unsure how to react at first, Caleb takes the keys into his hand and tries them in his restraints, amazed when the tension on his wrists are relieved, his freedom returned to him at the hand of fate itself. “Now go before I change my mind” Jaime warns, watching Caleb quickly toss the empty plastic cup on the ground and hurry for the door. As instructed, Lazarus unlocks the exit, allowing Caleb to go about his usual routine. Quickly hurrying toward the exit, Caleb hears the sound of Jaime’s wrist watch going off from behind him, his name being called back for by the woman who spared his life. “Hey Caleb!” Jaime shouts, watching the man turn back toward her, the dimly-lit hallway he stands in presenting an obstructed view of her face, “long live the royal anus.” Confused, Caleb begins walking back toward the woman before tensing up, his feet slowly freezing where they stand as his fingers stretch as far as they can. Tongue swelling, Caleb watches Jaime approach him, her hand taking the man by the throat as he breaks out in a horrific rash, the need for relief from the burning pain prompting him to rip at his flesh until he bleeds. With a smile, Jaime watches Caleb succumb to the catalyst, the pleasure she takes in his pain being cut short, her attention directed to another one of the many rooms lining the basement. Writhing in pain, Caleb drops dead just as Jaime opens the door to one of the rooms, a facially-scarred, bald man restrained in the center of the room. “Justin Skhrelli, I presume?” Jaime calls out, the man’s facial reaction suggesting she’d identified the right person. “Anything you wanna tell me about that bribe you took the day before you tried to kill me?” Jaime asks, only as a precaution, the man’s refusing head shake giving her all the answer she needs. “Okay then” Jaime replies, lifting her gun toward the prisoner and firing a bullet through his skull, the rest of the bullets emptied into her pocket as she returns the weapon to her boot, offering herself a nod of approval as she shuts the door. | “What’s left?” Carly calls out, Chevy’s attention redirected toward the woman in the front of the room. “Sorry, I should congratulate you on the engagement first… So, congratulations” Carly explains, a flattered convoy leader voicing his appreciation, “-now, I think I have your answer.” Intrigued, Chevy leaves his whiteboard and approaches the woman, a massive folder of documents carried in her arms. “As far as I can tell, there was a refugee station set up on the coastline of Maui in Hawaii just before the catalyst” Carly explains, pointing to a chart of electrical interference captured from the area just a short time ago, “we don’t have contact with it, but we have proof that it’s still running in some capacity.” Confused, Chevy asks how the woman managed to find this, the question answered by a suddenly-present Ben. “Sorry, I was finishing up a call with the new convoy” Ben explains, his absence addressed, Carly’s findings being backed up by a second source, “there are reports out of Australia that contact was being reached with people there.” “Wait, you’re saying there are people in Hawaii speaking as the government?” Chevy asks, what he gathers being even less than what has actually been presented. “I think the Cheyenne complex was a red herring for anyone that showed up” Carly explains, the lack of reluctance to persevere through the mess they made never having sat well with them, “I think there are still pieces of the government left, and I think they’re in Hawaii.” Not satisfied there, Ben tacks on additional findings that would suggest worse, a tracing done by a fellow mate in the convoy suggesting the plans originally discovered by Chevy’s group were made offsite. “As far as we can tell, the order for officials to head for this bunker wasn't sent from here, which means…” Ben begins, his discovery stopped by Chevy, who finishes his sentence, having finally caught up, “...which means these people were sent here on purpose.” Beginning to realize the scale of what’s been done, Chevy turns back toward his whiteboard, a line drawn from the central question, the word Hawaii being connected to the end of an arrow. Looking at their new information, Chevy draws a line between the central question and ‘Hawaii’, pairing them with the findings of high-ranking officials knowingly sent into an acid storm, and calls for all-encompassing suicide, before ending their puzzle with one word, the answer they’d been looking for. Satisfied with his conclusion, Chevy shakes his head in disbelief and rapidly circles the one word written at the end of it all, their answer opening a new world of questions entirely. “Sabotage.” == Dire ==
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“It’s just a lot to wrap my head around” Cody replies, an equally uncertain Jaime stood by his storefront, what comes from this revelation being the direction she had intended on taking Los Angeles. “This isn’t about waiting for help to show up, it’s surviving on our own” Jaime explains, the lack of any potential help from the government meaning that it has become a game of ‘all for one, and one for all’ that they are apart of, “work with me, I work with you, and we survive together.”
Sucking on his lips, Cody extends his hand toward the woman, a few ground rules being laid out before a deal can be made. “I want a few guards stationed in the camp to protect from looters, which I suspect will start showing up once this news gets out” Cody explains, the rest of his conditions being simple terms for their deal, “are we clear on that?” The man’s requests being nothing too difficult to manage, Jaime finishes the gesture, shaking the man’s hand and finally snagging a lifeline. “So Chevy and Kayla are staying up in Colorado for the next few weeks, eh?” Cody proceeds, their conversation now taking a more casual direction with negotiations having been dealt with, a disappointed Jaime confirming such truth. “Perhaps it’s for the best… It’s good to have the eye in the sky be one of your own, I suppose” Cody responds, the woman before his counter patting him on the shoulder reassuringly. “They’re one of your own, too” Jaime replies, the appreciative man flashing her a smile, his giddy nod presenting a friendly exterior. “I know we can’t replenish your crop stockpile as quickly as you’d hope for, but at least you’ve got something to fall upon” Cody quips, turning his mind toward the fires. Hesitant to go too far into detail, Jaime explains that the man responsible for putting her fiance into a coma had managed to break out of his medical containment, the conclusion one that worries Cody. “So he’s still out and on the loose?” Cody wonders aloud, the confirmation of such a statement proving to be something that the storeowner takes interest in. “What did you say his name was again?” Cody asks, his eyebrows furrowing as Jaime speaks the man’s name. “Where have I heard of a ‘Ryan Mulaney’ before?” Cody asks himself, the wet rag in his left hand pressed between his palm and the wooden countertop, everything he was doing coming to a cease in that very moment. “Is he a kinda short, pothead-looking dude?” Cody asks, the description too vague to gather a specific image, but traveling along the same lines Jaime happens to be looking for. “Short brown hair, kinda like a buzzcut? Usually wears a sweatshirt, sometimes wears a plumber’s uni?” Cody specifies, the description now specific enough to catch Jaime’s guard completely. “That dude came out here once every few days until a few weeks ago!” Cody exclaims, this discovery immediately peaking the woman’s interest, her request to know as much as the man can offer being accepted as soon as it’s asked for. “He’d come into town and sit at that pub down at the end of Ayala Road with a few of his buddies!” Cody shouts, his hand angrily waving in the direction of the pub, “they never looked like they were up to any good, I always preferred to leave them alone.” With a smile on her face, Jaime tells Cody that she’s very happy to be working with him as she makes a dash for the exit, her eyes set on the pub at the end of the street. Darting through the entrance, Jaime approaches the bartender and immediately describes Ryan’s posture, appearance and mannerisms, the description something the bartender picks up on immediately. “He’s the one that took that shot on you, right?” the bartender asks, Jaime’s sigh-filled nod giving the tattooed woman the answer she was expecting. Curling her finger toward the woman, the bartender leads Jaime into a backroom away from the patrons, the words shooting through her mouth the moment they’re somewhere more secluded. “He and his buddies come in every week, and tonight’s their usual night” the bartender responds, leading Jaime and Lazarus to the corner of the room and telling them to wait there, “please tell me that, however you plan on doing it, you’re getting rid of him.” Unable to say exactly that, Jaime does inform the woman that she intends on returning him to imprisonment by the end of the evening, an answer that sits well enough with the establishment owner. “Take a seat wherever you please and help yourself” the woman replies, handing the pair two bottles of beer, both different, and both to the liking of the ones who hold them. “How did you know what beer I liked?” Jaime asks, the smile on the bartender’s face telling the story. “I read people with alcohol, you’re not that difficult no matter what power you’ve got, Ms. L.A. Times” the woman responds, earning a smirk from her visitor. “Cheers, Ms…?” Jaime continues, her glass held into the air, awaiting the woman’s name. “...DeMarco… Jazz DeMarco” the bartender replies, tapping her knuckles against the brim of Jaime’s beer, her own end of the greeting held up. = Dire is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 Media from the start of Season 1 onwards = “Day ten since leaving Los Angeles, day three since figuring out the United States no longer exists” Chevy exclaims humorously, Kayla chuckling at the self-recollection beneath the covers of her bed. “I wonder what the rest of the world has done in the last week and a half” Kayla remarks, a smile coming over Chevy’s face as he throws a brand new shirt over his torso, “most probably aren’t taking hot showers like we are.” Leaning back toward his girlfriend, Chevy places a kiss on the top of her head, preparing to continue assisting the rest of the convoy in clearing out the decaying bodies. “You sure you’re okay?” Chevy questions, the woman quickly passing off the nauseous feelings as nothing more than a common stomach bug. “I’m fine” Kayla responds, looking up at her boyfriend with a compassionate smile, “I think I just need to have an actual night's sleep rather than close my eyes and pretend.” With a smile, Chevy places his hand upon the woman’s shoulder and gives it a gentle rub, his thumb pressing into the soft spot between her neck and collarbone. “I love you” Chevy softly says, Kayla quickly returning the statement, a kiss on her forehead preceding his departure to the rest of the bunker. As the door to their room shuts, Kayla listens quietly for her boyfriend’s footsteps, hearing them continue to fade off into the distance before disappearing all together. Throwing her covers off, Kayla quietly approaches the bedroom door and presses her ear to the divider, a quiet twisting of the doorknob locking the entrance from the inside. With a deep breath, Kayla turns back toward the opposite end of their room and gives herself a reassuring nod, her exhausted legs carrying her to the adjacent bathroom, hand flicking the light switch directly beside her as she walks through the doorway. “How’s it going, Ben?” Chevy asks, approaching the young man and speaking through a rebreather, his hands and feet covered in disposable gloves and protective wear. “Getting more used to this every day, Chevy” Ben replies, a nod returned from the leader of the convoy, both bending over to remove the fallen corpse of a former marine, the uniform still adorned, pistol used to commit suicide still laid on the floor by his side. “We should scrub down that wall, get these weapons into a bin to bring back to L.A” Chevy says to himself, dumping the body into a large plastic bin, the laundry list of ways to improve the space suggesting it to potentially become a second home. “What are the chances that we do stay here?” Ben wonders aloud, Chevy having to ask for more specifics at first, not truly sure on how to answer the original question. “How likely would it be that Jaime has a group stay out here to look over the bunker for Los Angeles?” Ben clarifies, leaving Chevy to look toward the man, giving him his undivided attention, “what are the odds Jaime keeps some of us back to keep this place in her control?” With a deep breath, Chevy begins to mentally unpack the loaded question, no easy answer to be found when speaking on behalf of what Jaime would wish for most. “I wouldn’t put it past her, if that’s what you’re asking?” Chevy responds, not knowing Jaime like the back of his hand, but knowing her well enough to understand how her mind works, “I just hope Kayla and I don’t need to stay here for the next ‘x’ amount of years.” With a nod, Ben finds an understanding in that desire, admitting a slight homesickness when thinking back to the city fondly. “Do you miss Los Angeles?” Chevy asks, the question being one that comes with equal benefits and neglects as far as Ben is concerned. “I miss it in the sense that it’s the city I’ve always called home” the young man replies, the existence of it in this post-society world never changing his view of it once, “but at the same time, what we have here isn’t something that’s fleeting, or it’s not in danger of changing anymore.” Finding common ground, Chevy makes it clear to Ben that he’s not alone in that assumption, the same being true for plenty of people, both that have a say and those that don’t. “It’s a matter of whatever’s most important” Chevy explains, never putting anything over Kayla in regards to what occupies that spot in his mind, “but other than Kayla, nothing is more important than keeping Los Angeles running. If that means she and I stay here with some of you all, so be it.” With a smile, Ben holds his hand out, the gesture one that Chevy considers for a moment, eventually relenting and meeting Ben with a handshake, the response putting a smile on the younger man’s visage. | “You and your sister have become the polarizing subject between my daughters” Alex responds, laying beneath the covers of her bed, curled up beside Chris, the man, understanding of such being the case, expressing his disappointment. “I’m sorry, I should have been less blunt about things” Chris explains, admitting that he prefers to look at things in the most historically-beneficial way he can, “perception in this world seems more valuable than honest facts.” With a sigh, Alex runs her hand upon the man’s chest, up toward his neck, down toward his abs and the process repeats, the calm truth of the moment revealing room for honest pillowtalk. “Is something wrong?” Chris asks, noticing the woman’s internal conflict and making sure to address it, her worries something that he wishes to acknowledge when they arise. “I just don’t like my daughter and my boyfriend getting off on the wrong foot” Alex replies, a grin creeping in over Chris’ face as she continues, “it’s not ideal.” Met with silence, the woman looks toward the man beside her, eyes narrowing in confusion. “What?” Alex asks, a smile appearing in the corner of her mouth as Chris answers. “You called me your ‘boyfriend’” he responds, running his thumb over the woman’s shoulder, his arm around the back of her neck. “Oh shit, is that… Is that okay?” Alex asks, concerned she’d ruined the momentum they had been building, Chris quickly arguing otherwise. “I’m just glad you said it” Chris replies, warmly embracing the woman, pulling her in tightly as a knock emerges from the front door. Rolling his eyes, Chris tosses the covers off his body and reaches to the floor for his clothes, assuming the knock to be for him. “I have to accompany my sister to that camp out in the hills, but I will be back later tonight” Chris promises, watching Alex emerge from the bed, the covers held over her naked body. “Sounds good” the woman responds, leaving the man another kiss before turning in the direction of the shower. Out of the corner of her eye, Alex notices a string of scratches leading down the inside of Chris’ left bicep, prompting her to inquire about them. “Probably Julia at some point” Chris replies, rubbing his thumb along the scabbed-over wounds, “I like to snatch folders out of her hands, and sometimes she likes to scratch me in return… I deserve it.” Dressed in the attire he arrived in, Chris lays another kiss onto Alex’s lips before hurrying to the front door, a repeat of the first set of knocks prompting him to hurry his pace. “I’m coming, hold on a damn sec!” Chris shouts, soon walking through the front door and slamming it shut on his way out, a shower-bound Alex quick to shake her head at the display. Turning on the knob, Alex lets the hot water run, a last minute thought bringing her back into the bedroom in search for a hair tie. Recalling a roll in the nightstand beside the bed, her stroll carries her toward the furniture before the bottom of her foot steps on something jagged. Lifting her sole, Alex looks to the floor and notices a shiny aluminum, key in the carpet, the edges pointy and the head of the key holding a thin metal loop. Inspecting the piece, she begins to rummage through her head over the possible things it can belong to, not a single thing coming to mind. Trying her best to consider the reasons behind the tool’s existence, Alex comes up empty, eventually deciding to tuck the key away in the nearest nightstand before hopping into the shower. | “You seem very calm for a woman prepared to confront the kind of man we’re after” Lazarus notes, earning an intrigued smirk, “might I ask why?” The deep tone of the man’s voice keeps the conversation from dragging on its clear, near-vibrato like sound alone, Jaime proceeds to do her best in answering honestly, investing in their conversation. “The only thing I fear is being forced to live in a world without Jordan” Jaime responds, shrugging off the concept of death as unimportant, “I’ve dabbled in cheating it before, it doesn’t charm me like it used to.” With a gentle nod, Lazarus recalls once being told that such is a sign not too promising, the suggestion immediately prompting Jaime to look toward him, her head angled down slightly, eyes still finding the whites of the man’s own, “it’s as if there’s nothing else to live for.” “I’m the leader of Los Angeles, which is basically a country of its own at this point” Jaime replies, quickly arguing against the man’s logic, considering it flawed, “I’m sure I have plenty to live for.” Taking a swig from the bottle, Lazarus gently places the condensation-covered bottom in the center of the table, both of his hands interlocking their fingers together, placed palm-down on the table in front of him. “Would it matter without Jordan?” Lazarus responds, curious as to what Jaime would do if he spent the next few years in a comatose state, “what would you do if it took him years to wake up?” Not fond of the thought, Jaime recognizes Lazarus’ attempt to better understand her and decides to play along, suffering through the thought in an effort to please his intrigue. “I would find a way to survive until he did” Jaime replies, downing another sip of her beverage, the question left in Lazarus’ corner to ask once more. “And what if he didn’t wake up?” Lazarus responds, his question immediately bringing a well-contained sadness over Jaime’s face, her head hanging as she finds herself unable to hold eye contact. Noticing this, Lazarus is quick to apologize, explaining that he only wanted to know how far she has planned ahead. A few seconds passing without another word, Jaime surprises Lazarus by answering the question, the woman always having had an answer, but never being comfortable with it. “I’d have a hard time deciding which is right and wrong” Jaime replies, comfortable with being able to admit to her flaws, understanding where she’d begin to lose herself, “I was lucky to find him when I did, and I likely wouldn’t be here right now without him.” Comforted by the thought of his leader’s self-awareness, Lazarus takes his beer into his hand once more, lifting it to his lips before admitting that he once felt the same way. “When I was young, my wife was merely my high school sweetheart” Lazarus explains, a smile coming over his face as the easier times are comforting to think about, “I didn’t think I’d want to breathe another breath without being able to wake up beside her every day.” Confused, Jaime picks up on the grim thought, quickly conjuring the reason for it just as the words leave Lazarus’ mouth. “But when she was sent off the overpass eight years ago, I had to truly put that theory to the test” Lazarus continues, the backstory he’d told very few about since the catalyst occurred being offered to the one woman he’s been put in a position to trust whole-heartedly, “it appeared I had been wrong about that at some point down the line, ‘cause I’m still here.” Unable to hold back a smile, Jaime looks to her beer and takes another swig, a few more seconds of silence coming over the pair before Jaime decides to open up. “I was once attending therapy pretty regularly. Issues with the family made it difficult to deal with on my own” she explains, mustering up the courage to speak the name of the woman she so badly wished to in that moment, “she was the best influence I had in life before Jordan.” “What was her name?” Lazarus replies, the question prompting a watery-eyed Jaime to look up at him, a heartbroken, yet prideful smile adorned over her face. “Kate” Jaime responds, quickly running her arm over her face, the tears smeared against her skin, leaving a watery trail down to her inner elbow. Letting a deep breath leave her lungs through parted lips, Jaime downs another few sips of her drink before setting it beside Lazarus’ own, ready to continue. “She was walking me to my car after one of our sessions when a crash happened outside the clinic” Jaime explains, recalling the events and finally, for the first time since it happened, acknowledging what happened to the woman that day. “We raced over to the cars to check on the people inside, and…” Jaime begins, choking up before forcing herself through, “...and she ran back to the building just as a car was speeding past the wreckage.” Admitting that she never stayed past the moment it took her to realize what happened, Jaime explains that she wouldn’t know the truth until the cops showed up at her doorstep a few days later. “They said the best they could tell me was that she died instantly” Jaime explains, her head shaking as the surreal event still fails to feel real in anything other than her deepest cores, “but I still went to the bar that night. That’s where I met Jordan, and we haven’t looked back since.” Reaching out, Lazarus pats the young woman on the arm and assures her that the toughest obstacles in life are thrown to the people most capable of taking them on. “I choose to believe everything has a greater reason for happening than what it appears to have” Lazarus explains, the alternative leaving him with an empty feeling he can never shake, “whatever’s meant to happen is part of a bigger picture as far as I’m concerned. I can only hope that picture is a good one.” Biting into her bottom lip, Jaime playfully taps her knuckle against the back of Lazarus’ hand, watching the guard smile for the first time since he’d been appointed to serve as her security detail. Attempting to resume talking, Jaime watches the bar doors open, revealing a group of men walking to their normal table, the spot occupied by familiar-looking gentlemen. Stopping in their tracks, the men begin to concern themselves with the people having taken their spot, a very familiar looking man to Jaime stood at the very back of the group. “They’re not going to kill you unless you give them a reason to” Jaime exclaims, prompting the group to turn toward her simultaneously, “I’m more interested in having a chat with you boys than I am in painting this place red with your blood.” | “Hey, honey” Chevy greets, stretching his arms out the moment he walks through the doorway, his rebreather mask tossed onto the couch in the back of the room. “How’re you feeling?” Chevy asks, a few seconds of looking through a mostly-dark room passing before he notices the lack of Kayla in bed. “Honey?” Chevy calls out again, his feet carrying him to the bathroom, a harsh light emerging through the darkness, only illuminating another empty room. “Hey, Benji… Have you seen Kayla?” Chevy asks, storming through the hallways in search of the woman, his concerns not heightened yet, a level head still accompanying his need to find answers. Without success, Chevy continues to venture down every accessible portion of the bunker before finding the woman in one of the many recreational rooms, Kayla’s feet propped up on the couch as she rests her head on the side of the seat. “Kayla?” Chevy calls out, watching her quickly turn back at the sound of his voice, a smile breaking out over her face, the concern on his own ever present. “Why are you hanging around out here?” Chevy asks, the question quickly brushed aside by Kayla, who looks away as the man walks over to sit beside her. “I just wanted to get out of that room for a minute” Kayla replies, the look on her face suggesting a reason deeper than just that. Placing his hand over the woman’s leg, Chevy asks the woman to tell him what the problem is, the question itself prompting the woman to take the man’s hand into her own. In a single moment, Kayla’s face begins to swell up with tears, a grave fear coming over her as she’s faced with answering to what she’s not ready for. “Kay, what’s going on?” Chevy asks, taking his lover’s hands into his own as the girl becomes overwhelmed, worried at what she’d possibly say. Taking his hand toward Kayla’s face, Chevy directs her chin to his own level, looking the woman in the eyes and promising that whatever it is will be fine. “I know” the girl responds through a whimper, the revelation she holds being nothing of the worry aspect, but instead, rooted entirely in a world-shattering admission. Taking a few deep breaths, Kayla looks the man in the eyes and admits the truth that had been weighing upon her chest, a brief second allowing her world to change. “I’m pregnant” Kayla replies, the words coming out with perfect clarity, the purposeful shock she forces herself to endure in order to get the words out prompting the burning pit in her stomach to disappear. Caught by surprise, Chevy looks into the woman’s eyes and breaks out into a smile, the fear she once held now being understood in its reason. “You’re… you’re pregnant?” Chevy responds, the gleeful tone in his voice prompting a smile to force its way through Kayla’s lips. “Holy fuck, you’re pregnant!” Chevy exclaims, quickly throwing his arms around the woman and pulling her into an embrace, the worry of speaking her pregnancy into existence vanishing with Chevy’s joyous reaction. Her face sinking into the soft part of the man’s shoulder, Kayla returns the embrace, her smile unable to be hidden once more, teeth remaining visible through her parted lips, the joy of the moment too much to be controlled. | “Do you expect us to believe that?” one of the men replies, removing a gun from his waistband, Jaime’s armed security, which outnumber the group three to one, immediately respond in the same way. As other patrons back away from the scene, Jaime tells everyone involved to keep their fingers off the triggers, vowing to pay Jasmine for the order she gives next, demanding anyone not part of her security detail and not involved with the group in question leave the premises. “I’ve got it from here, Kip” Ryan calls back, the man responsible for initiating the mass-arming being told to stand back, the man Jaime is truly here for taking over the conversation. “If I were you, Jaime… I wouldn’t be counting too much on this numbers advantage you’ve got here” Ryan explains, his finger bouncing around the room, counting every security guard with their gun drawn, “three-to-one advantage when any of the guys behind me only need one shot to do what they wish to.” Nodding, Jaime proceeds to agree with Ryan’s conclusion, admitting that the only bullet that would be fired without probable cause would likely be directed at her. “Even with that said, I think there’s a lot more to this then you or your friends may think” Jaime explains, making sure to credit the man for the well-executed escape he managed to pull off, “I think your group is trying to start something you really don’t want to see come to fruition.” With a smile, Ryan laughs at the conclusion the woman has come to, curious as to what she believes she has in leverage. “In order to create a revolution, you need the strength of an army to follow your every word” Jaime explains, pointing to the small group behind Ryan and explaining that it isn’t big enough to handle what he’s looking to accomplish, “what would the public think of the group that killed the woman who was just on the cusp of getting things back to normal?” Squinting, Ryan reminds the woman of what he set in motion, the famine that he’s prepared leaving Jaime with an impossible hill to climb. “You’ll never make your September deadline, so I’m not even sure we need to do much more” Ryan says, his arrogance undeserved, the plans Jaime has set in motion not yet revealed to him, “I think the Angelinos will take care of you themselves.” With a smile, Jaime begins to laugh, unable to hold back her amusement, eventually having to tie her hair back into a ponytail once the sweat starts to run from her forehead. “I’m sorry, I can’t take you seriously like this” Jaime replies, treating the man as a joke much to Ryan’s surprise, even Lazarus’ smile presenting itself, a sight that only brings confusion upon the bar-inhabiting group of conspirators. “I would never tell Kennedy this- mostly because I didn’t know who to tell this to- but I didn’t name drop you the other day for a reason” Jaime responds, watching the concern come over Ryan’s face. “I just struck a deal to get the crops you destroyed in order by the middle of October” Jaime explains, the delay annoying, but nothing threatening to her government, “if I wanted to, I could tell the Angelinos about your daring escape, and leave you to deal with the aftermath.” “Bullshit” Ryan replies, anger beginning to build in his core, a rage coming over his glare only matched by the scorn visible upon Jaime’s face. “I could hold a public statement tomorrow, informing them of your escape and subsequent burning of their crops, and pin the delay on you and your friends here” Jaime explains, the power card being returned to her deck, the sour face she sports only further enraging the man before her, “then explain how I swooped in, made a deal, and became the hero.” “And how did you make a deal?” Ryan responds, demanding to know how she managed to swindle her way into an agreement with Cody, the question answered with a smug shrug from Jaime’s chip-ridden shoulders. With a deep breath, Jaime allows a silence to build over the bar as she considers her next move, the high-risk bet she made on herself at the earlier press conference having paid off and then some. “I’ll give you two choices, Ryan” Jaime explains, not one to treat the group that calls her out for less-democratic ways of holding office with anything less than a diplomatic decision. Backing away, Jaime pulls Jasmine away from behind the bar and walks through the front door beside her. “You can all surrender yourself to Lazarus, hands above your head and all” Jaime offers, presenting Ryan with a less-flattering alternative, “or you can all be slaughtered where you stand.” Walking through the door, Jaime walks out into the middle of the road beside Jasmine and takes a seat on a nearby bench, keeping herself far away from the ongoing circumstances. “Are we placing bets?” Jasmine jokes, earning a chuckle from the leader of Los Angeles. Minutes passing, silence continues to fill the air until the bar doors open once more, both Jasmine and Jaime sharing a small can of beer whilst watching from across the street. “Wise choice” Jaime calls out, standing up from her seat on the bench and approaching the five members of the group, all of which being led with their hands restrained behind their backs, looking at her with cold, judgmental eyes. “I’m glad to see you all came around” Jaime explains, immediately being forced to dodge a wad of spit sent from the mouths of one of the restrained. With a nod, Jaime gives Lazarus permission to punch the man responsible in the face, the spaghetti legs he is picked up on as a result of the consequences his actions carry. “You’re going to rue this day, Jaime” Ryan exclaims, the statement he makes bringing a smile to the woman’s face, her eyes widened with the glee that is carried through her veins. “I would indulge you and ask how exactly you’d go about that, but in all honesty- I don’t think it matters” Jaime replies, stepping within inches of the man’s face and leaving him with a hushed declaration, “you’re never gonna get the chance.” With a nod to her head of security, Jaime watches the five conspirators be dragged off toward their dungeon-centered interrogation base, a handshake offered to Jasmine from a woman appreciative of her assistance. “Just keep those fuckers away from my bar, and the pleasure will have been all mine” Jasmine responds, calling out to the lingering tavern-goers awaiting their chance to return. “First beer on the house!” Jasmine exclaims, a silent wave of people immediately rushing up to the front doors. With a chuckle, Jaime lets out a deep breath and takes a moment to stretch, her feet carrying her back to Los Angeles, her work in Lancaster being done with for the moment. == Dire == “Coming in to check vitals” Julia whispers into the dark hospital room, a faint voice emerging from within to greet her. “Do as you will” Jaime replies, a dim light in the corner of the room switched on by the doctor, giving her the view of Jaime curled up beside her comatose fiance. “Can’t sleep?” Julia asks, starting a conversation with the obvious findings, Jaime speaking through the sighs of exhaustion in response.
“We’re sharing the same building with the guy that tried to kill us” Jaime returns, only offering a nod from Julia, “it’s pretty hard to sleep when I keep remembering that.” Giving her fiance a peck on the head, Jaime tosses herself out of bed, both feet tapping upon the ground as she reaches for her boots. “He’ll make it, right?” Jaime asks, her hope being for him not to die without having lived in misery first. “He’s still here twenty-four hours later, I’m sure he’ll be fine” Julia responds, admitting that they need to keep him back for further testing. Letting the conversation die there, Jaime wraps her thigh-high boots around her legs and laces them all the way up, her mind set on returning to city hall and getting ahead of the workload. “Has the rain started yet?” Jaime wonders aloud, Julia of the assumption that there is still an hour left before the clouds form up ahead. With a nod, Jaime pushes her shoulders back and begins to stretch, the tension in her back forcing her legs to tense up with every step. Returning to city hall, Jaime begins walking for the front door, a disgusted look on her face prevailing over all else, the stench she takes in something that prompts her to inquire over it to Julia. “What smells like burnt popcorn?” Jaime asks, Julia immediately looking up to her with wide eyes, surprised at the woman’s findings. “You smell that too?” Julia asks, concluding her vital check and approaching Jaime, the smell beginning to encompass the room. “What the fuck is that?” Jaime asks, watching Julia dash into the section’s kitchen to find nothing burning, the stench coming from somewhere within the building itself. Shooting through the stairwell, Lazarus begins to run for Jordan’s room, his efforts quickly dashed when he finds Jaime stood in the middle of the hallway. “Ms. Morris, we need to get you out of this building now!” Lazarus exclaims, reaching for the hand that Jaime pulls away. “What’s going on, Lazarus?” Jaime replies, watching the man’s face scrunch up in a concoction of anger and disappointment. “Ryan’s escaped” Lazarus responds, the broken restraints and self-removed tubes suggesting a planned evasion since the moment he arrived. Hesitant, Jaime tells Julia to get the hospital in lock down before running after Lazarus, the gun in her boot being loaded mid-run for the stairwell. Dashing into the concrete tunnel, Jaime and Lazarus begin to descend the staircase, her heart set on returning to city hall until the sound of a struggle emerges from the top of the shaft. In a moment of panic, a man screams out in horror, his shouting getting louder until his body falls past Jaime’s own level, plummeting to the bottom. In a single moment, the sound of the door higher up in the stairwell slamming shut presents the danger she assumes it to be. “Go help Julia shut down the building, I’ll take it from here!” Jaime shouts, her orders to Lazarus almost immediately disobeyed. In a moment of anger, with little time to argue, Jaime turns toward her guard and aims the barrel of her revolver at his head, the surprised look in his eyes suggesting this to not have been something he’d expect to see. “Ms. Morris” Lazarus begins, attempting to argue against her orders, Jaime’s instructions made clear for a second time. “Go” Jaime replies, slowly ascending the next few stairs before breaking out in a sprint, her weapon held to her side as Lazarus stays behind, knowing the consequences of persistent disobedience. Climbing the stairs with no room for error, Jaime finds herself at roof level, the splatter of blood sprayed against the wall suggesting she’d found her target. Kicking in the roof entrance, Jaime takes a quick look around before finding the slow-moving sight of something soaring off back into downtown Los Angeles. Dashing for the lip of the roof, Jaime looks out over the edge and finds an orange parachute soaring back to the city, the great escape presented only attributed to one person in her mind. In a moment of overwhelming anger, Jaime slams her foot against the rooftop and turns back toward the stairs. Her breaths heavy and filled with genuine hatred, Jaime begins to notice the smell of burnt popcorn returning, the smell stronger now than it had been before. Turning away from the stairwell, Jaime looks at a massive bed of crops burning beneath the midnight sky, her eyes widening as the gravity of the situation returns to the height it had just recently come down from. = Dire is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 Media from the start of Season 1 onwards = “It’s been six days since departure and we’re just now entering the state of Colorado” Chevy calls into the radio, the roof of his vehicle being pelted with heavy rain, “we’ll be stopping for reprieval soon, entering Denver by tomorrow as expected.” Pausing for a moment, Chevy tells the driver to take the next exit, an order easily agreed upon by the lower-ranking convoy mate. “Copy that, Chevy… Next line” the man on the other end responds, the next words not coming to Chevy immediately, what he wants to say not being something he feels strong enough to. Looking to her other half, Kayla notices this pause, as do the rest of the mates in the convoy, his heart set on the mission too fully for anything less to be acceptable. Willing to say what her boyfriend will not, Kayla takes the radio from Chevy’s hand just as the other end of the radio calls out for Chevy’s reply, experiencing what he believes to be a technical difficulty. “We’re tired, we want this to be over so badly, and we really miss Los Angeles” Kayla replies, Chevy looking at her with concern for a brief moment before letting a faint smile trickle in, “we’re hoping for the best possible result for tomorrow's mission. That is all.” Understood on the other line, Kayla returns the radio to Chevy’s hands, the man graciously attaching it to his belt loop, both of their eyes remaining on each other’s despite the horribly rugged conditions of the terrain beneath them. One hour after arriving at an abandoned motel, Chevy and Kayla occupy their own bed, the man’s right arm draped over the smaller woman, both well awake despite their clenched eyes. “What are you expecting out of tomorrow?” Kayla asks, her boyfriend struggling to truly come to a singular conclusion. “I think they’ll still be there” Chevy responds, the optimism he wishes to have unable to outweigh the acceptance of how much the country’s government is truly willing to withstand. “Even if a few of the fuckers got unlucky, there’ll still be plenty left behind” Chevy concludes, his girlfriend using this answer as an excuse to spin around in his arms, now laying face-to-face. “The little spoon doesn’t usually stare eye-to-eye at the big spoon, Kay” Chevy quips, his humor brushed aside in favor of a kiss, Kayla’s lips refusing to leave the man’s own. “Can I ask what this is about?” Chevy wonders, finally opening his eyes to find Kayla staring back at him, her lips returning to his without a second thought. “I love you” Kayla whispers, breaking the kiss for a mere moment, looking into the man’s eyes and smiling when he says it back. | “No one can know about this, let me make that abundantly clear” Jaime explains, the small gathering of her inner circle now expanded to include Julia and Chris, both of whom share the same worry as the rest of the group. “Ms. Morris, unfortunately, we cannot guarantee any such thing now that Ryan is free in the city” Lazarus explains, assuring her that he can offer as much as he can, but certainties are no longer accounted for, “all bets are off now.” Frustratedly raising her finger toward Lazarus, Jaime pulls away and turns around, her want to lash out at the man overwhelmed by the understanding that he did all he could. Leaning over at the front of her desk, Jaime gently slams her fist against the desktop calendar to calm herself down, a more composed woman turning back to the gathering behind her. “How did this happen?” Jaime asks, recalling the assurance that security was monitoring the prisoner. “We had every exit covered and two guards in his room at all times” Lazarus replies, the stairwell not having been looked after due to its lack of a direct exit. Biting reply into her bottom lip, Jaime asks of the current state of the two guards, neither of which living to tell the tale. “The first one was strangled to death with an I.V tube and left in the room” Lazarus responds, Jaime’s head hung as he continues, “the other was stabbed in the stairwell and, well- splat.” Nodding, Jaime begins to pace around her office, the rain now beginning to reach Los Angeles, the storm ranging a very wide portion of the continental west coast and mountain time zone. “The crops that were lost, how much of our stock did we lose?” Jaime questions, all eyes being directed to the back of the room, both Julia and Chris becoming the center of attention. Worried, the siblings look toward each other, hoping the other would be the one to break the news. “Please- just one of you- give me a number” Jaime explains, tired of the lack of answers, her only desire being to figure out how much of a setback she’s dealing with, “neither of you are going to die for telling me the truth, now give me a fucking number.” “Sixty-five percent” Julia quickly replies, the number raising even the most-cynical of eyes, the surprise of the number exposed to Jaime making her even more speechless than before. “I’m sorry, I’m hoping I didn’t hear you right” Jaime explains, truly in awe at the damage done, “you said sixty-five percent?” Having made herself the source of answers from the Avallone camp, Julia explains why she’d come to the figure. “He didn’t just set the crops we were growing on fire, he set the supplies preparing to be shipped off ablaze as well” Julia explains, four months of work, by a rough estimation, burnt to a crisp, “so, of the crops we were harvesting, sixty-five percent is the most likely estimate.” Mouth agape, Jaime watches the eyes of the crowd look upon her, jaw quickly closing as she stumbles backward and into her desk, both hands wrapping around the edges to keep her upright. “Sixty-five perc- fuck me, really!?” Jaime shouts, head shaking as Lazarus assures her that she’ll have the full backing of the militant support. “No, fuck it… I’m gonna go farm peanuts” Jaime responds, rounding her desk and sinking into her seat, “I’m gonna reverse-Jimmy Carter with an FDR-inheritance.” Pleading with the woman to let the military handle things, Lazarus finds himself shut down, the woman immediately recalling her conversation with Ryan. “That chin-drivel piss stain said ‘rule with an iron fist or a velvet glove’, and I’ll be damned if this is what forces me to make that choice” Jaime shouts back, both hands resting on the sides of her chair, the loss for direction baffling her, “letting the military direct the tides of this sea is exactly what he’d want.” Speaking out from the crowd, Kennedy lays forward the best approach, avoiding the ‘iron glove and velvet glove’ analogy entirely, giving the power to the people rather than herself. “He’s still the evil villain in their eyes, so let them find him” Kennedy explains, the declaration of pinning this attack on Ryan being the easiest way to take the eyes off of Jaime herself. “If they know he burned their food, they’ll be out for blood” Kennedy explains, the time bought between their success and now imperative, “then we tell them to work together and it’s like nothing ever happened.” A smile forming out of the corner of her mouth, Jaime takes immediate interest in that conclusion, a pat on the shoulder from Amelia telling Kennedy directly that she’d changed the tides of the conversation. “You’d still have to answer for the lack of security in his room” Julia responds, the credibility in both Jaime’s regime and the armed forces called into question along with that play, “they’ll see him as the cause, but you as the answer for why.” Countering Kennedy’s argument, Julia lays the opposing approach into Jaime’s lap, a confused glare given back to her from Kennedy. “If they see you as incompetant, what will stop them from wanting you ousted?” Chris wonders aloud, making sure to reference the group of potential assassins, “you won’t be starting a public relations heaven, you’ll be launching your own war on terror.” Quick to argue in favor of Kennedy, Amelia cites the willingness to overlook potential weaknesses when the narrative is controlled by the people in power. “No matter what, Ryan burned the crops” Amelia explains, admitting the anger will be present, “but they’ll care less about your oversights and more about the man that doomed them to starvation.” Attempting to argue against that course of attack once more, Julia finds herself silenced by Jaime, the woman stationed behind her desk with one hand raised toward the group, admitting that both bring promising points. Unwilling to make her decision right now, Jaime thanks the group for their efforts and asks to be left alone, her mind set on deciding which course of action she deems most suitable. One by one, the collection begins to empty into the hallway, Lazarus’ being the final presence in the room other than Jaime’s own, his hands closing her doors as he leaves. Alone to her own devices, Jaime turns back to find the midnight sky still blackened, a new day still far away. | “Day seven, we are minutes away from approaching the blast doors of the Cheyenne Mountain Complex” Chevy radios, the sloppy, post-rainstorm conditions being described accurately, “if this log is not updated, assume the worst.” Lowering his radio to his hip, Chevy takes Kayla’s hand into his own, the pair preparing for whatever appears over the hills they currently drive upon, their answer soon presenting itself. Turning a curve, Chevy’s car comes to a screeching halt, an overturned vehicle appearing in their path, forcing the convoy to a stop at the last minute. Uncertain of how to respond, Chevy directs the driver to continue forward, giving the order for all other vehicles to hang back in the event hostility is discovered. Looking Kayla in the eyes, Chevy smiles and runs his thumb over the back of her hand, promising her that they’ll find a way to deal with whatever they find. Continuing to progress, Chevy's vehicle finally discovers the sight they’d been hoping for, the concrete tunnel entry sat behind a broken security gate. Calling for his units to progress forward, Chevy directs his own vehicle to stop at the gates, the curious sight calling for further investigation. Exiting their vehicle, Chevy and Kayla approach the guard’s station directly inside the gate, the seat empty, however, the pod is not. With one quick look through the window, Chevy and Kayla find the decomposing body of a man dressed in a complex guard’s outfit, whatever death had come for him proving to have been a violent one. “We’ve got dead” Chevy calls out, his accompanying fleet quickly catching up. Reaching into her pocket, Kayla removes a screwdriver and pierces the glass with the very tip, one simple reach over the plastic encasing allowing her to press down on a bright red button. “These cameras still on?” Chevy asks, his question directed to the driver, the only one with an informed perspective of the complex. “This place has its own power supply” the man replies, watching Chevy approach the nearest security perspective, “if someone’s stationed at the cameras, they’ll be able to see you.” With a nod, Chevy looks away from the lenses and sets his eyes on Kayla, a moment of clarity ensuing as he raises the peace symbol with his right hand. Returning to the vehicle, Chevy and Kayla allow their fleet to progress forward, their cars submerged by the darkness-clouded tunnel in an effort to reach what lies within. | Pushing the door to his office in, Chris finds Alex sitting at his desk, waiting for his inevitable entry. “I guess you’re the one paying me a visit today?” Chris wonders, the woman leaving his chair and walking into his arms, planting a kiss on his lips as she agrees. “I figured- with everything as tense as it is right now- it’d be nice to take a break from the world” Alex responds, both edges of his medical jacket taken into her hands, “what better way then with a quick stop?” Agreeing with the woman, Chris finds himself giving into the temptation of forgoing his duties to tend to the woman’s own, a knock at his door abruptly ending their fun. “Why does this keep happening?” Chris mutters beneath his breath, gathering himself up before approving the entry of the individual calling for his attention. Emerging from the hallway, Julia finds Chris fixing his jacket with Alex standing beside him, her immediate conclusions something she refuses to bring attention to. “We’ve got a quota waiting in the backrooms” Julia explains, her statement short and simple as she disappears behind the wooden fixture again. With a sigh, Chris turns to Alex and apologizes for having to skip out on their moment. “These guys only come once a month, and they’re the closest thing we have to an external trade partner” Chris explains, his excuse immediately understood as the woman tells him to do what’s asked of him. With a smile, Chris pulls the woman in for a kiss and departs, the lower levels of the hospital calling for his attention. Ducking into a supply cabinet, Chris shuffles through a few syringes and other liquid injections before returning to his hurried pace, the cafe at the least-ventured depths of the building allowing him to duck inside unseen. Rattling their metal cages, the prisoners Chris has cooped up like rabid dogs call for his attention, the moment he presents the vials from behind his back bringing a silence upon the room. “Do we have any volunteers?” Chris calls out, a sadistic gleam in his eye presenting over a pin-drop silent cafeteria, the syringes and injections shaking in his hand with glee. “Me” Clayton’s rough, abused voice calls out, the offering immediately falling upon deaf ears, Chris quick to suggest otherwise. “Anyone other than Clayton?” Chris replies, prompting the starved survivor to slam his hand into his cage, demanding that Chris accept his offering. “Please, kindly eat shit Clayton” Chris responds with a smile, “you don’t get to go with the rest of your friends because I don’t trust you.” “You don’t trust me to what? Die?” Clayton replies, the unamused reaction on Chris’ face suggesting the imprisoned man’s attempts to be working. “This is the last time I’m going to tell you, Clayton” Chris responds, slowly turning his head back toward the man, the look on his face meaning business, “shut up.” Staying quiet, Clayton plays nice and allows Chris to go about his work, the syringe-carrying man immediately trying to get enthused once again. “Okay, who’s-” Chris begins to speak, his efforts thwarted by Clayton immediately, the sudden change of heart having been anticipated. “Eat shit, dickhead” Clayton calls back, prompting Chris to gently place his belongings atop one of the cages, his feet turning toward the prisoner’s cage and charging in his direction. Eyes widening, Clayton prepares himself, eyes on the door’s lock until Chris’ hand is atop it, the eagerness to deliver a beating to the caged animal dissipating the moment he recognizes the man’s reaction. “Come on, dickhead” Clayton growls, Chris’ quick-tempered display of violent intentions fading as he looks into the man’s eyes, attention paid back to the lock. “I see what you’re doing” Chris replies, letting the lock drop from his hand’s reach, keeping Clayton in his cage, the response immediately bringing an anger over the survivor. “I’m not gonna give you the chance” Chris responds, Clayton immediately looking up and spitting at him, the doctor easily dodging the oncoming wad and returning to his vials. “Come on” Chris exclaims, noting the lack of volunteers and insisting upon choosing himself, “let’s get this show on the road.” | “Thank you for joining me here today” Jaime exclaims, stood before a massive crowd of people stood at the bottom of city hall’s stairs, Kennedy and Amelia stood in the back to her right, Julia and Chris stood in the back to her left. Beneath the hot summer sun, Jaime begins to address the ongoing concerns the public has already been made aware of. “Last night's rainstorm has, thankfully, put out enough of the wildfires to regain control of the landscape” Jaime explains, the crowd beginning to applaud, “a control line will be set up to pre-empt any future attempts.” Listing off the growing stockpile of medications and converted gasoline made in-house, Jaime feels a ball begin to form in her stomach, the moment to make her decision quickly approaching with each bullet point list item given. One by one, talking points are knocked out, the only two that remain being to address Ryan’s current cooperation and the ever-present food crisis she’s bound to oversee. “Ryan Mulaney, unfortunately, is not cooperating as we’d like for him to” Jaime explains, her half-truth at least not a deliberate lie, the final stage to approach being the ultimate decision she’s left with. “As for our current target of September to find ourselves fully operational once more-” Jaime begins, a brief look into the mass gathering below prompting her most natural choice to present itself, “-I have no reason to believe that deadline will not be fulfilled.” With a smile on their faces, Julia and Chris nod to themselves, a greatly-disappointed Kennedy and Amelia immediately looking toward her with visible ire. “That is all for now, please return to your civic duties” Jaime concludes, turning back and immediately looking toward the young pair of girls, an apologetic face given to them instantly. “What the fuck was that!?” Kennedy shouts as she follows Jaime into the hollowed halls of the capitol building, her question answered without hesitation from behind. “It was smart, that’s what it was” Julia replies, quickly pointing out that a happy crowd is better to control than one set out for vengeance. “Graduating med school doesn’t make you a genius- just an uptight ass at best” Kennedy responds to Julia, not another word reserved for her, attention given back to her sister, “what happens when they find out?” Quick to respond, Jaime places her cards in the hands of Chevy and Kayla, faith given that their mission will find itself to be a success. “They won't find out as long as we can replace the food through trade” Jaime explains, her hopes resting on Cody’s end of their bargain. “Okay, what happens if the city finds out about the shortage before we can agree to that deal?” Amelia replies, Julia’s attempted answer shunned by the younger girl, who tells her to stay quiet. “We tell them that Chevy and Kayla have made a discovery that will lead to the agreement of a trade bargain” Jaime responds, failing to see the irony her younger sister’s side points out immediately. “So you lie to the people- after promising to be honest- and the answer to being found out is to lie more?” Kennedy replies, stopping her walk in the middle of the hall, her sister, Julia and Chris continuing forward, “you’re a fucking moron.” Stopping in her tracks, Jaime looks back to her younger sister and looks into her eyes, telling her that she has no understanding of what it takes to lead a city. “You’re a middle schooler that reads bedtime stories with Amelia, not run a fucking government, Ken” Jaime quips, “you don’t know enough to lead people like I do.” Quick to call her sister out, Kennedy responds in a way that silences Jaime where she stands, both Julia and Chris looking at the younger girl with scowls. “I don’t, but they do?” Kennedy replies, her retaliation aimed at the pair of doctors, “the honest truth is, you’re just aggravated the smart decision wasn’t the easy one.” Raising her finger to her sister, Jaime attempts to speak before finding the words refusing to leave her mouth, a simple shake of her head preceding her retreat. As Julia and Chris follow the woman back to her office, Kennedy and Amelia stand in the passageway of city hall, Lazarus quickly walking past them. “For what it’s worth, I agree with you” Lazarus quips as he steps past Kennedy, stationing himself outside Jaime’s office door and giving the young girl a nod. | “If the government’s still around, it’s certainly not here” Chevy exclaims, entering a room with a large table, empty chairs left behind at a once well-populated room. “The place smells so fucking bad” Kayla says, her mouth and nose covered with her sleeve, Chevy’s awe keeping him from being too concerned with the putrid stench. “I found something!” one of the convoy mates shouts from within the empty chambers of one of the most secure buildings on the planet. Hurrying into an ultra-technical room, Chevy and Kayla begin to feel out of place, the highly-advanced machines at their disposal making them feel like they have no right to be there. “Keep an eye out” Chevy directs the men at the forefront of the room, the interior they stand within so big that anyone could appear without having been noticed until now. “What did you find?” Kayla quickly asks, she and Chevy approaching Ben, who has stationed himself at the command center, reading through a log of orders handed out from the same seat he sits upon. “Project 1172 has backfired, all government officials should seek refuge immediately” the first warning calls out, the log providing a description for only the most-important conversations to be held, all the answers seemingly lying at their fingertips. “Government aid has been dispersed to major cities at the order of Renegade, await further instructions” Chevy reads aloud, his finger running down the screen in front of him. “Who’s Renegade?” he asks, looking around for an answer, not a single soul able to provide one. With a nod, Chevy takes the silence for what it’s worth and directs Ben to keep reading, nothing unfamiliar being offered until the logs from day three are presented. “Renegade and family are leaving the White House, in bound on AFO to Cheyenne M.C” Ben reads aloud, the looks on every face changing one by one, beginning to paint the picture out for themselves. “Renegade’s the president?” Kayla mutters aloud first, Chevy quickly turning toward her with a slight worry on his face, his eyes wandering into an empty corner of the room before ordering Ben to continue reading. “Fires and riots have occurred in Los Angeles, New York and Miami. Total abandonment has begun in D.C, Detroit, Seattle, Denver, Los Angeles, Chicago and Miami” Ben continues, pausing for a moment as he reads the next line internally. “Keep going” Chevy insists, looking back at a hesitant Ben before glancing at the monitor, his eyes beginning to stagger as he reads silently. “AFO to stop for abrupt medical emergency in Nashville, awaiting word” the next log reads from the same day, not another word offered for the next six days before an update is finally transcribed. “Renegade has fallen, confirmation is made. All government officials are being ordered to depart for Cheyenne immediately” the second to last log reads, preceding the final log that answers the curiosity-laiden concerns that had led them to where they currently occupy. “International dispute imminent, militant forces are unoperational” Ben begins to read aloud, Chevy’s head dropping as he reads the final line to himself, “cease function.” “That’s it?” one of the convoy calls out from the back of the room, the relieved, yet defeated Chevy turning around to address him, “it’s over?” The call logs suggesting all they could, Chevy and Kayla’s convoy has its answer, an immediate declaration made from their appointed leader. “Get on the nearest connection to Los Angeles and get me Jaime” Chevy orders, expecting a radio from somewhere within the complex to cut their journey in half. Falling into a chair, Chevy looks at the plethora of screens afforded to him, one monitor after another lining the walls like the concealed lair of a movie villain. In disbelief, Kayla walks to one wall and tears down the American flag, the once-symbol of freedom now the only remnant of a country that showed cowardice in the face of self-issued adversity. “The international dispute” Chevy suddenly mutters, his interest beginning to settle elsewhere now that their main objective has been reached, “what international dispute are they talking about?” With a shrug, Ben admits that he doesn’t know how to use the machine before him, only read the text that was already present. “Guys!” a voice shouts from the depths of the bunker, Chevy, Kayla and Ben all quickly arming themselves and hurrying through the halls. Coming across the source, the trio enter a room filled with televisions, most of which are labeled as news feeds from other countries, over half of whom are blackened out or unresponsive. On the monitors that are still operational, most are occupied in a language foreign to them, the screens of news feeds from Canada to South Africa presenting a dead feed. “That Australian one!” Chevy shouts, his finger pointed at a screen depicting an english broadcast, “raise that volume!” Fumbling around with the side of the screen, Ben finally engulfs the room in a newscast they can all latch onto, the news they’re offered leaving very little encouragement. “We are still monitoring the ‘death wave’ as the local media is describing it, a global catastrophe sweeping across the globe” the news anchor begins, his description accurately portraying what Chevy, Kayla and company have been referring to as ‘the catalyst.’ “It’s not just here…” Kayla mutters beneath her beath, Chevy quick to approach the television, staring directly into it’s screen before drawing his conclusion, finishing her statement, “...it’s everywhere.” == Dire == Head leant against the back of her chair, Jaime stares at the ceiling with the firework casing sat atop her desk, a knock from the other side of her door calling for attention. “Enter” Jaime calls out, the heavy wooden divider parting slightly to allow Julia entry, the woman carrying a bag of pills in her hands. “Good morning, Ms. Morris” Julia exclaims, eagerly approaching the desk as Jaime flashes her a half-hearted smile.
“Am I interrupting something?” Julia asks, the young woman behind the desk looking up at her with a blank expression before hanging her head, an apology offered. “I’m sorry, the warm greetings aren’t exactly coming automatically anymore” Jaime replies, trying to come off more approachable, “how can I help you?” Concerned, Julia shakes her head in silent refusal, answering with the offer reversed. “It sounds more like I can help you” the nurse responds, Jaime’s still-obviously feigned warmth quickly cooling off, “is something wrong?” Thinking about the events unfolding around her, Jaime looks up at the woman and lets out a giggle, her hands pushing herself away from her seat as she approaches the window in the back of the room. “La Tuna Canyon Park, the Santa Monica Mountains, Topanga Park and the bottleneck between Burbank and Glendale are currently on fire” Jaime replies, finger pointed toward the casing on her desk, “and they’re being lit on fire intentionally… There’s a lot wrong.” Apologetic, Julia rounds the desk and approaches the woman, Jaime’s hands unable to remain still. “I’ve got a prisoner who wont talk, a fiance in a coma, and we’re behind schedule” Jaime explains, “it’s a lot to handle.” Confused, Julia illustrates an expression to accompany this puzzlement, Jaime already knowing what the woman is bound to say. “Kennedy’s been saying you think we’ll be ready by the start of September” Julia explains, the eye roll given back to her telling a different story. “I don’t want anyone panicking, and as long as they think we’ll be ready, I wont have another thing to worry about” Jaime responds, the woman beside her looking down in disappointment. “I’m sorry to get your hopes up” Jaime mutters, Julia’s head quickly looking back to the woman, her refusing head shake responding. “I’m not disappointed in the schedule-lacking, I’m disappointed you’re getting hit with all of this at once” Julia replies, the response giving the acting ruler of Los Angeles a brief surprise, “you didn’t sign up for this, you just took it on the chin so no one else had to. You should be praised- not vilified.” Doing her best to hold back an appreciative smile, Jaime returns her view to the window, quickly darting her eyes back to the woman beside her to offer her thanks. “Don’t thank me, I’m just telling you the truth” Julia responds, an agreement-reaching nod being returned from Jaime’s shoulders. “Anyway, you came in here for what?” Jaime replies, directing the conversation back toward Julia’s corner, her head turning back to the medication-filled bag on the woman’s desk. ‘Every junkie needs a fix, right?” Julia responds, the answer prompting Jaime to look at the bag and consider the suggestion, her eyes squinting toward the medication as a smile dawns upon her. Entering the interrogation room, Julia and Jaime find their presence immediately scoffed at by the city’s most-vilified inmate. “I was hoping it was the big black guy” Ryan jokes, the subject of his humor- that being Lazarus- lets out a brief chuckle from beyond the sound barrier of the two-may mirror. “Well, what can I say?” Jaime asks, taking the only seat not occupied by Ryan, Julia remaining stood in the corner of the room, the bag of medication held behind her back. “Did you put her in time out?” Ryan quips, his buggy eyes looking toward the doctor until Jaime’s finger obstructs his view, slowly pulling back toward her own face. “She’s none of your concern right now. This conversation is between you and I” Jaime replies, the unamused man rolling his eyes at such a gesture, the disrespect not phasing Jaime one bit as her hand reaches into her pocket and chucks a discarded firework casing into the prisoner’s lap. “Do you know what that is?” Jaime asks, the man looking down at the object before tossing it aside, his eyes looking into Jaime’s own before drifting back to the side of the room. With a snarl, Jaime leaves her seat and walks in front of Ryan, the man’s eyes slowly moving into her direction, a blank disgust written all over his face. “Did you really think I was going to tell you?” Ryan responds, Jaime’s lack of surprise giving the man his answer. Looking back toward Julia, Jaime gives the woman a wink and looks back at Ryan, the man’s face looking toward the woman as she removes a single baggie from the zippered carrier. “Is that coke?” Ryan asks, immediately recognizing the size and contents with ease, his eyes widening and body tensing, almost earning a rush from the sight alone. “That is the purest cocaine you can find on this side of the wildfires- all made in house- and all unreasonably better than whatever you could find- or sell- on the streets” Jaime replies, great joy taken from Ryan’s desperation. “And, who knows? Maybe a line can be yours for the price of an answer of two” she utters, watching Ryan’s head lean forward as the nurse lets a line of the powder fall onto a reflective tray in her hand, a small, metal tube clenched in her opposite hand. “Answers?” Ryan asks, looking toward Jaime upon recognizing the listed price, his bottom lip pressed between his teeth. “I want to know everything you know about that firecracker” Jaime responds, honestly expecting slightly more than just that, “and I’ll give you a high that’ll make this little cellar feel like heaven.” Breathing hard enough to nearly blow the line still halfway across the room from him, Ryan gets a boost of encouragement, his eyes quickly returning to the discarded shell. “No” Ryan replies, the answer immediately prompting the smile on Jaime’s face to fall, her grin receding into a straight face. “I don’t think it’s that hard of a question to answer, Ryan” Jaime responds, the man’s face immediately contorting to desire, eyes looking back toward his captor, “this can all feel better if you just open up a little.” Swallowing his pride, Ryan flashes Jaime a mean smile, his eyebrows lifted, allowing the woman to see the whites of his eyes as Julia looks on. “I don’t need the pain to stop… I need yours to keep going” Ryan replies, his answer letting the last of Jaime’s composure to crumble, her eyes fiery with anger, “I’m not going to be bought by you.” Eyes twitching, Jaime’s breathing becomes hard, her immediate request being for Julia to leave the room, a demand that is met easily. “What do you think you’re going to accomplish down here?” Jaime asks, failing to understand what Ryan has to gain from making her suffer, “you eat scraps, drink ground water, piss and shit in a bucket- how is any of this something that makes living for another day worthwhile?” With a smug grin, Ryan shakes his head in disbelief at the woman’s confusion, his innermost assumptions being that she’d already have understood him by this time. “You’re never going to let me leave this room, and even if you did, there’s nothing for me to go back to” Ryan responds, the only joy he has left to gain from this world being Jaime’s suffering, “my bed has been made, and yours is still propping up your comatose boyfriend’s body.” Her heart telling her to lunge out of her chair and wrap both hands around the prisoner’s throat, Jaime remains tucked in her seat, unable to truly figure out what could make Ryan snap, a truth she shares with him. Removing the revolver from her boot, Jaime loads a bullet into the cylinder and spins it, the base of her hand slamming it shut. “You or me?” she asks, the gun aimed barrel-up, offering a way to give Ryan a slight amount of power. “Surprise me” Ryan replies, the barrel immediately turning toward him, Jaime’s thumb pulling down on the hammer, readying the weapon to fire. Unlike the last time he’d seen that barrel pointed between his eyes, Ryan isn’t phased, his arms folding together in his lap as he lifts his chin, giving the shot a better chance of proving fatal. “Steady your breath and pull” Ryan responds, directing the woman on how to take her shot, a description Jaime takes no care for. As seconds pass, Ryan gets tired of waiting, looking back toward the woman with his head shaking, the power more in his favor than it was before with this gesture. “Even if chances suggest this won't kill me- you wont pull the trigger” Ryan explains, the look on the woman’s face suggesting a want to hear more. “As far as you’re concerned, you’re still the good guy in this encounter” Ryan continues, Jaime’s aim slightly easing as he continues speaking, “as long as your toy’s still breathing, I’ve done nothing to warrant being put down like a sick dog, so you wouldn’t dare.” Not wanting to prove the man correct in his assumptions, Jaime steadies her aim and places her index finger upon the trigger once again, one eye closed as her breath steadies. Shaking his head, Ryan tilts back once more, presenting his chin and leaving it up to Jaime to prove him wrong. Teeth clenched behind her lips, Jaime’s hesitation only drains the power she has over Ryan further, her lack of fear now challenged by his willingness to die a martyr, this hesitation proving such. Giving in, Jaime lifts the barrel up and pulls the trigger, a single click sending an empty shot toward the ceiling, the last of her upper hand over the incarcerated junkie vanishing in that moment. Frustrated, Jaime removes the bullet and returns the pieces to where they were originally as she walks for the exit, a single voice calling out for her attention to return. “Since you were so kind to let me win on calling your bluff, I’ll let you in on a little secret” Ryan replies, the ground he gives only suiting him more, the information he offers raising Jaime’s paranoia. “I’m not the only one that wants to see you fall” Ryan exclaims, the intense stare he receives back from the ruler of Los Angeles holding the most bitter hatred. Leaving the room, Jaime slams the door shut and leaves Ryan to his silence, the junkie letting out a light chuckle in amusement. = Dire is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 Media from the start of Season 1 onwards = Busting through the front door of a residential building, Chevy leads Kayla and a small group of armed convoy men through a narrow stairwell, their weapons aimed and paths lit with flashlights. Quietly, Chevy directs his convoy men through corridors, one room cleared after another, the process continuing until they reach the very top floor. Breaking out through the final door, Chevy and Kayla lead what remains of their convoy onto the roof, looking out at the small town below. “Another goddamn ghost town” Chevy exclaims, his head shaking in disappointment, clarity asked for by one of the other mates. “Are we sure this is the tallest building in the city?” the man asks, quickly corrected and assured. “It’s a town, and yes” Chevy responds, looking over the lip of the building to see rotting corpses and abandoned vehicles lining the streets, not a soul for miles, “-another dead zone.” Upon that statement, a single gunshot fires off below their feet, the sound reverberating throughout the small town, calling attention to their building. Without a second thought, Chevy and Kayla rush toward the stairwell, sending themselves flying down a few flights of stairs toward the second level, the reassuring sound of one of their fellow convoy mates help in easing their worries. “I’m good, I’m good!” the young man shouts, a grouping of the convoy surrounding one room in particular, Chevy and Kayla immediately bursting through the doorway. “I got him first, we’re all good!” the breathless man explains, Chevy quickly looking toward the unarmed body of an elderly gentleman, arms sprawled out on the ground as he gags on his own blood. “Was he armed?” Chevy asks, the lack of a gun or knife in the man’s hands being instantly recognized, his mind split between leaning the wounded survivor on his side and asking for answers from the young man in his group. “Was he armed, Ben?” Kayla asks again, taking over for her boyfriend as Chevy attempts to ease the apartment-owner’s suffering, the young man only repeating that he’s fine like before. Not one to wait around, Kayla stuffens her hand and slaps the young man across the face, Ben quickly hitting the floor without another word. Looking back at the woman in shock, Ben hears Kayla’s question asked once again, this time in a way he’s more able to answer. “No, but he was frantic” Ben replies, leaving Kayla the opportunity to respond, the dead silence filled with another gunshot, this one leaving Chevy’s gun and ripping through the old man’s head. Looking back to her boyfriend, Kayla stares at him with wide eyes, a simple disapproving shake being returned. “I wasn’t gonna let him suffer. He wasn’t making it through the night like that” Chevy roughly explains, eyes redirected toward Ben, his work not yet done. Charging toward the young man, Chevy reaches down and takes Ben by the collar, pulling him to his feet and slamming him against the wall, making his point resoundingly clear. “You break into a man’s house and shoot him because he’s frantic?” Chevy asks, the shock in Ben’s face still abundantly clear, the reaction not one Chevy cares for, the life taken still lost regardless of reason. “Did you expect him to throw you a welcoming party?” Chevy asks, pulling Ben away from the wall and slamming him backward again, enraged at the display of his subordinate, “you shot that man in cold blood. You murdered that man, and you respond with ‘I’m good’?” Realizing his words are failing to latch on in Ben’s mind, Chevy lets go of the man’s collar and shakes his head in disgust, leaving the room as Kayla follows closely behind. Making his way back to the complex’s highest level, one half of the group’s defacto leaders makes for the evening’s camp, prepared to let night pass with the sole intention of getting back on the road the following morning. “I’m sorry” Ben explains, approaching Chevy two hours later, the man sat with Kayla and a few other members of the convoy around a makeshift campfire on the roof. “You killed a man in cold blood, why are you apologizing to me?” Chevy asks calmly, he and Kayla taking their role in the group seriously, the responsibility of those they surround themselves with also falling upon their own shoulders. “Because I let you down and I will never let it happen again” Ben responds, hands nervously dangling by his sides. Conflicted, Chevy feels a tense anger and unease course through his body as he attempts to stand up, his girlfriend’s arm quickly pushing him back down as she instead gets up to address the kid. “We operate on a ‘don’t shoot unless they give you valid reason to’ basis” Kayla replies, her finger pointing toward the surface they stand upon, “frantic isn’t a valid reason.” “I know that now and I will never forget it” Ben responds, Kayla’s ability to accept the boy’s responsibility much more present than Chevy’s, her head nodding. “We all killed a man today because of you, and I think that’s what you shouldn’t forget” Kayla replies, the information given putting the onus on everyone. Hands on her hips, Kayla looks at the boy’s frightened eyes, subtle lip quiver suggesting a fear he’d not been used to feeling. “How old are you?” Kayla asks, Chevy attempting to speak before his girlfriend gestures for him to remain silent, her wish being to hear Ben answer for himself. “I’m seventeen, ma’am” Ben responds, Kayla immediately telling the boy to call her by her first name as her eyes roll, unable to understand why a seventeen year old teenager would share the field with them. “You’re in a very different world to the one you grew up in, Ben” Kayla explains, shaking her head as she considers the change the boy must be experiencing, “you don’t want to make mistakes, but you don’t want to cause mistakes either.” Telling the boy to return to his room for the evening, Kayla walks back to the campfire, Chevy immediately at a loss for words when faced with the position they’re in. “I know we’re short on volunteers for this sort of thing, but a seventeen year old kid?” Chevy asks aloud, an eye roll from his girlfriend accompanying a dissatisfied look as she lifts a bottled beer to her lips. | Opening the front door, Alex finds Chris standing on her front step with a baby blue sweater in his hands, the article of clothing immediately recognizable to her. “You left this in my car and I haven’t been out of the office to notice” Chris explains, returning the item to Alex’s hands, a smile upon both of their faces, both happy to see the other. “Do you want to come in?” Alex asks, a pleased Chris accepting her offer. “I had fun the other night” Chris begins, the delighted grin of Alex the first thing that meets him. “Oh yeah?” Alex asks, the visitor doubling down on his statement, considering it the best date he’s ever been on. “Well I’m glad to hear we had fun?” Alex replies, laying in the subtle hints that she shares the same opinion, a hint Chris notices immediately. “So I suppose we had enough fun to want to do it all over again?” Chris asks, the woman turning back to him, her innermost cynic hesitant to approve of the notion just yet. “You’re in your mid twenties and I’ve got two children- one of which keeps the city that employs you running” Alex replies, turning back toward the man, the look on his face suggesting he’s unphased by the uncomfortable circumstances surrounding them, “are you sure that’s what you want?” Walking the rest of the way toward the woman, Chris places his hands on both of Alex’s hips, pulling her closer toward him as his voice lowers to a seductive tone. “I’ve rarely ever wanted anything in my life as badly as I want to be with you” he responds, looking into Alex’s eyes, the gesture catching her by surprise. Leaning forward, Alex pulls her lips close toward Chris’ just as the front door swings open, Jaime entering her home to find the curiosity-inducing scene. “Ms. Morris!” Chris exclaims, gently pulling away from the woman’s mother as she stands in the doorway, looking on with utter silence, “we were just-” Without being able to finish, Jaime holds her hand out toward the man and suggests he stop talking. “I’ve had a long day- which isn’t yet over- and I’d like to down half a bottle of scotch, but I can’t” Jaime explains, shaking her head at anything associated with the sight, “you’re two grown adults, do as you please and leave me out of it.” Giving the most carefree nod of approval, Jaime wanders down the hallway and enters her bedroom, both Chris and Alex looking toward each other without much to say. “That went over better than I’d expected” Chris jokes, a surprised Alex letting out a nervous laugh as she turns back toward him. “I am thoroughly surprised” she replies, looking back at the man as he pulls away, admitting that he does still have to return to work. Understanding, Alex tells the man that she’s looking forward to their next encounter, a response that prompts Chris to turn back to her, their eyes reconnecting. In a sudden moment, Chris walks back to the woman and pulls her in for a kiss, the sudden gesture reciprocated by Alex immediately, the heat of the moment sending them falling into the couch. “Jesus Christ! I know I said ‘leave me out of it’, but don’t do it on my fucking couch” Jaime exclaims as she re-enters the room, shaking her head at the sky as she marches through the front door. Unable to hold back laughter, Alex and Chris return to their romance, the house free of disturbances from then on. | “Has he talked yet?” Kennedy asks, a surprised Julia turning back toward the young girl as she exits her office. “Has who talked?” Julia asks, Kennedy quickly pointing out the prisoner they’ve got stowed away beneath the hospital, an answer that prompts Julia to lead Kennedy into her office. “You can’t say that out loud!” Julia exclaims in a frantic, yet whispered tone, “no one outside of Jaime’s circle is supposed to know about that!” “You’re outside of Jaime’s circle” Kennedy says, the irony in her statement immediately noticed by Julia, who brushes off the statement as unimportant. “No one in your sister’s inner circle has enough drugs to take down King Kong, kid” Julia responds, hurried to get back to the original subject, “now what does that matter? and why do you ask?” “Because I think he’s hiding something” Kennedy replies, the eyroll on the child-disliking Julia suggesting she’s already privy to this information. “He tried to shoot your sister and put your brother-in-law in a coma, of course he’s hiding something” Julia responds, immediately trying to lead Kennedy out of her office. “Has he told you about the ‘A.A Meetings’ yet?” Kennedy replies, a question that both confuses and intrigues Julia at once. “The fuck are you on about, kid? He’s a druggie, not an alcoholic” Julia responds, quick to disregard the statement as the ramblings of an uninformed child seeking attention. “When Chevy, Amelia and I were forced to hide during the raids, I saw a piece of mail listed to a guy named ‘Ryan’” Kennedy explains, remembering the name her sister mentioned and noticing how familiar it sounded, concluding her point by handing Julia a note with the name ‘Ryan Mulaney’ written on the front of it. Opening the envelope, Julia reads the note contained within to herself and begins to allow a smile to appear over her face, the discovery being one that turns the lightbulb on inside of her head. “You might not be so bad, kid” Julia replies, patting Kennedy on the shoulder and quickly hurrying out of her office, leaving the girl behind to think over what just happened. | “Fires contained yet?” Jaime asks, approaching Fred with Lazarus by her side, the fire chief quickly suggesting otherwise before tacking on more hopeful news. “We’re probably not going to be able to get ahead of it around the whole perimeter alone, but we’ve got a rainstorm coming in tomorrow night” Fred explains, a smile quickly popping up over his face, “with any luck, the rain coming down will put this candle out like a strong breeze.” With a nod, Jaime takes a liking to what she’s now heard, the sky beginning to darken just overhead, suggesting a single day of this suffering left. “Jaime!” Julia shouts, hurrying up to the woman with a piece of paper in her hand, the sight immediately catching the woman’s eye. “Did you get accepted into Harvard?” Jaime jokes, the smile on Julia’s face remaining, the space for laughter taken up by the time for joy. “I think I’ve got something better” Julia responds, tossing the opened envelope into Jaime’s hands, the woman immediately reading the recognizable name written in black marker. Pulling the letter out from within, Jaime reads the contents and begins to look on in confusion, the bread and butter of what’s written inside being noticeable upon her discovery of it. Slamming the door shut behind her, Jaime enters Ryan’s interrogation room alone, the smile on his face suggesting a pleasure to find the woman storming at him. “Twice in one day, who fucked me in my sleep to make that happen?” Ryan jokes, his amusement immediately fading upon the envelope’s impact with the table. “Where did you get this?” Ryan asks, unable to look away from the folded package in front of him, eyes wide. “I’m the acting mayor of Los Angeles, how the fuck did you think I wouldn’t find it?” Jaime replies, watching Ryan’s uneasy eyes shoot back toward her. “How the fuck did you get this!?” Ryan shouts back, the disapproving shake of Jaime’s head matched by the arching of her lip. “It doesn’t matter how I got it, it just matters that I did” she responds, quickly letting her amused smirk present itself to Ryan, “and when I nip your plans in the bud, I’ll no longer need you.” Mouth agape, Ryan looks back to the envelope and quickly begins to feel his lungs empty, his breathing becoming difficult to come by. “You’re not going to die a martyr, Ryan… You’re going to live on as a failure” Jaime replies, the man looking up to her without the ability to breathe, his anxiety forcing his throat shut, “you’ll go on to live every day of your life as an example to every Angelino that an uprising is fruitless.” Slamming his fist on the two-way mirror, Lazarus calls for Jaime to stop, the visual struggle to breathe making it clear that Ryan is bound to drop dead if gone without being tended to. “I want you to look at me just as you are right now” Jaime explains, refusing to let Lazarus enter the room until she’s made her point, “and know that- for as long as I let you live- that breathless feeling is going to follow you everywhere you go for the rest of your imprisoned life.” Slamming her hand down upon the table, Jaime takes the envelope back into her possession and gives Lazarus a nod, the man immediately dashing into the room, medical gloves on his hands. Seconds later, a crew arrives with a stretcher and races to Ryan’s side, their intentions resting on saving the man’s life. “If he dies, it’s on you” Jaime exclaims toward the doctors, Lazarus returning to her now that the professionals have taken over, “I need him alive, so keep him that way.” Holding her hand out toward her bodyguard, Jaime tells Lazarus to stay behind, unwilling to allow his company where she’s headed. “I need to go for a walk on my own” Jaime explains, tucking the envelope into her back pocket, eyes returning to the attention-needing prisoner on the floor. Looking back toward Lazarus, Jaime’s eyes hold a fire he has not yet seen, the words that leave her lips being taken with absolute understanding. “Don’t follow me” Jaime orders Lazarus, the man, though not wishing to forgo his duties toward accompanying her everywhere, gives into his instructions and stays put. “Make sure he lives” Jaime concludes, turning away and walking down the long hallway, her feet carrying her toward the nearest exit with terrible intentions resting on her mind. == Dire == Leading what remains of the local fire department into her office, Jaime continues to ask questions worthy of answers. “Do we know who’s starting them?” the woman asks, her fire chief quickly answering with uncertainty. “We’re not sure who it is, but we do know it’s no one inside Los Angeles” the man replies, “the fires have been specifically set around the surrounding cities and towns.”
Brushing past the small crowd of experienced brigade workers, Chevy and Kayla enter Jaime’s office, confused at what they find. “Are we interrupting something?” the well-traveled man asks, the woman behind her desk immediately greeting them with a warm welcome before breaking the news. “Someone’s setting off fires outside of town” Jaime responds, her hands held toward the group of workers, “we’ve been dealing with cutting the flames off at their source.” “Shit, is that something we can help with?” Chevy replies, he and Kayla both remaining focused on Colorado, their loyalties, however, remaining with the people of Los Angeles. Looking toward the chief, Jaime lets the man make the call, his hesitancy to approve rooted in a city-first. “If that trip to Colorado is as imperative to a trade deal as it sounds, it’s best you do that as soon as possible” the chief responds, “if you don’t go today, we’ll be keeping you for the next week or so.” With a nod, Chevy graciously accepts the man’s refusal, his eyes redirecting to the woman behind the desk. “Thank you, Fred. Your efforts are appreciated and will be rewarded” Jaime concludes, extending her hand to shake that of the fire chief’s. “It’s a pleasure to serve you, Ms. Morris” Fred replies, turning back and leading his men through the door, Jaime’s slightly disappointed face only noticed by Chevy and Kayla. “Yeah, the ‘Ms’ thing hurt to hear, too” Kayla responds, taking a seat opposite Jaime whilst her boyfriend remains standing behind her, his dominant hand resting atop the chair’s crafted peak. “That’ll change eventually” Jaime replies, pulling her chair in as her knees slide beneath the desk, “he’ll wake up from his coma, we’ll get back to work and everything will figure itself out.” Sharing a reassuring nod, Kayla says that she’s just happy to see Jaime working. “The last we heard from your mom was that you spent the first week working from his bedside” Kayla recalls, “I’m just happy to see you trying to get back to normal.” Rolling her eyes with a sigh, Jaime admits that she wishes such a thing were possible, her faith in such a way of life slipping with every passing day. “We’re on track to meet estimated growth by mid-July, the chemists will be set up two weeks after that, legitimate postings a few weeks later” Jaime explains, folding her hands with a relieved nod, “all in all, we should be fully operational by the start of September.” With a chuckle, Kayla promises to count down the next twelve weeks with great expectations. “Just make it home by then please” Jaime responds, Chevy vowing to make that happen, both hands massaging Kayla’s shoulders. Sliding her chair back out, Jaime leaves her desk and walks over to the couple, pulling the two in for a hug and telling them to come back safely. “Yes!” a young girl shouts in excitement from the door, Kennedy’s feet dashing across the carpet before jumping into Kayla’s arms whilst Amelia follows shortly behind. “Nah, you didn’t miss us” Chevy replies, Kennedy quickly leaping from Kayla’s arms and into his as a joyful Jaime stands by watching with a smile, her fleeting hopes of normalcy challenged by sights like these. “When are you leaving?” Kennedy asks, Chevy unfortunately left to admit that such departure time would be this very moment. “There’s a twenty-man convoy waiting by the loading bays” Jaime explains, a map with gasoline stops left for them at the site. “I want you to have this” Kennedy says, pulling out a small pocket knife with a pink handle, tucking it safely into Chevy’s hand, “it’ll give you good luck.” With a smile, Chevy looks up to the young girl and thanks her, his hand held out for a high five. Already having returned ahead of schedule, Chevy and Kennedy hurry to use the additional time to remain ahead, cutting the happy moment short in the name of efficiency. “Come back safely!” Kennedy shouts, the couple walking through the doors and stood in the hallway as they glance back. With a final wave, Chevy and Kayla disembark for their trek, Amelia, Kennedy and Jaime left in the office, the bookworm of the two looking back toward L.A’s guardian. “What are we gonna do if someone comes to take the city back?” Amelia asks, Jaime looking to her with wide eyes, surprised by the question. “We already fought them once” Jaime responds, playfully tapping the girl on the arm, “we can do it again.” With a smile, she looks back to the window behind her desk, the bright sunlight bringing a calming view of the luscious greenery just beyond her vantage point. A few short miles away, select patches of this greenery burn a hot orange, flames shooting up in specific spots throughout the surrounding towns, cornering city hall and the rest of Los Angeles into the hills. = Dire is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 Media from the start of Season 1 onwards = Strolling through her daughter’s hillside residence, Alex approaches the sound of knocking at the front door, a simple pull of the handle presenting a familiar figure. “Chris?” Alex asks, the hospital worker greeting her upon the door’s opening, “what are you doing here?” Pulling a bouquet of flowers out from behind his back, Chris extends the assortment toward the woman, being met with a gracious and appreciative reaction. “I was walking past one of the old flower shops they’d opened back up downtown and you just sort of popped into mind” Chris replies, the woman taking the flowers with a smile. “Come on in” Alex offers, the man quick to accept the invitation, following the woman through the large interior. “Wow- Jaime really did well for herself” Chris exclaims, the size of the home surprising him, its quaint exterior hiding a lofty- yet modest for the asking price- interior. “Yeah, she put her head to what she knew and it paid off… literally” Alex responds, lowering the bouquet into an empty vase, quickly walking to the nearest sink. “Can I get you a water, or a… I don’t know, scone?” Alex replies, amusing the man, who takes her up on the offer of water and appreciatively declines the latter. Carrying a flower pot and cup of water, Alex approaches the man and gives him a selection, again amusing him. Turning to the vase with the unchosen flower pot, Alex thanks the man again for the flowers, their colorful presence brightening a largely white, gray, red and oak-stained home. “It was my pleasure, really- The city really appreciates their doctors” Chris responds, walking up to the window in astonishment of the Los Angeles skyline. “You really can see everything from here” Chris remarks in astonishment as Alex soon walks up beside him, taking in the view for herself. “It’s really easy to get lost just looking at it” Alex replies, the man glancing to the side at her, the woman’s eyes still pressed to the skyline. “Do you think your daughter would be mad if we took a seat poolside?” Chris asks as Alex looks at him with an assured face. “Probably not” Alex responds, watching the smile creep in through her new friend’s face. | “I hear you’ve got a little wildfire problem” Ryan beckons, hearing the door shut without needing to turn around to know who’s entered. “You have any of your little friends that could be trying to send you a message?” Jaime replies, sliding a chair up to the table and having herself the seat. “No clue” Ryan responds, his obvious attempt to retain the little power over the woman that he has being an open secret. Letting out a sigh, Jaime remains silent, a cloud of nothingness filling the air in every direction, the awkward silence only prompting Ryan to talk more. “I may not be able to hear as much through these paper-thin walls as you can from your comfy office, but I still hear things” Ryan mocks, looking at her with a smile, “it sounds like you’ve got it handled, though… Nice one.” Folding her arms atop the surface, Jaime asks Ryan what amusement he gets out of any of these performances, unable to understand how enjoyment can be had from behind these walls. “I think you underestimate how it can feel to be alone” Ryan replies, turning over his shoulder to look the woman in the eyes, her squint something he quickly picks up on, “I think you underestimate just how little it can take to make someone’s day under the right circumstances.” With a nod, Jaime admits that such a statement could be true before repeating her question, the answer to which not having been offered in his potential discovery. “I like that you don’t know what’s happening but figure out a way to clean up the mess” Ryan responds, the squirming of the woman in moments of reactionary measure acting like television to him, “how you don’t know whether or not it has anything to do with me- but are so interested in finding out.” “You like watching me squirm?” Jaime replies, the maniacal smile across the man’s face giving her enough of an answer. “I love seeing you- a woman with the closest thing to a world we have left- twitch at every problem that pops up” Ryan responds, an orgasmic glee taken in knowing that he plays a role in it all, “I can’t fucking get enough of it.” Sucking on her bottom lip, Jaime stands out of her chair and walks around the table, standing before Ryan and looking him in the eyes. “Why do you hate me?” Jaime asks, the question turning Ryan’s smile into a grin, a simple ‘what?’ being offered back. “You seem to get off on my misfortune and take glee in my persistent suffering” Jaime replies, squatting close to the ground to come eye-to-eye with her opposite, “what was it that I did to you?” Head slightly askew, Ryan allows his smile to continue widening, answering with a question of his own. “Why do you care?” Ryan responds, watching Jaime’s face contort with unease, her lower jaw protruding toward one side. “I’m invested in knowing what I could have possibly done to turn a supposedly well-off plumber into a willing criminal” Jaime replies, the man before her quickly arguing that he is no such degenerate. “You attempted to kill me” the woman responds, Ryan quickly arguing otherwise, “my only crime is being a bad shot!” “Your crime is putting my fiance into a coma because you couldn’t kill me when you had the chance” Jaime quickly argues, Ryan’s response immediately falling out of his mind, its contents unimportant. “Agree to disagree” Ryan chooses to reply, Jaime’s nose crinkling with anger, nostrils flaring. Reaching into her boot, the girl removes her revolver and picks her bullet from her pocket, thumb gracefully sliding the brass-jacketed nub into the cylinder. Sliding the revolving host, Jaime slams the firearm upon the table, her palm slowly removing itself from the weapon and leaving it within inches from Ryan’s own hand. “Go ahead, it’s your turn” Jaime remarks, the sound of a fist slamming against the two-way mirror proving to be a distraction. “Don’t think about it, Lazarus” Jaime calls back, her eyes never once leaving Ryan, continuing to remain frozen upon his. With a nod, Ryan slowly reaches over to the weapon and picks it up, looking Jaime in the eyes before turning the barrel toward his own head. “What’s stopping me from taking this gun and shooting you in the face?” Ryan asks aloud, turning the gun away from his own head and pointing it toward Jaime’s, the woman’s expression never once changing. “You” Jaime replies, Ryan’s handcuffed, dominant hand departing from his thumb as it pulls down the hammer, the trigger only needing one tug in order to fire. Squinting his eyes, Ryan leans closer toward Jaime and begins to laugh, amused at the scene that’s transpiring. “Wow, holy shit” Ryan responds, the only movement in the woman’s face being from her eyelids, their momentary blinks showing no emotion, “you really don’t fear death worth a damn, do you?” With a disappointed sigh, Ryan lowers his aim partially, the gun now pointed toward her chest, his revelation. “This really reminds me of that one scene in ‘The Dark Knight’, y’know?- the one with Heath Ledger?” he replies, looking off into the distance, “You won’t kill me because of some weird fixation you have with understanding me, and I won’t kill you because it brings me less joy than toying with you does.” With that, Ryan removes every finger other than his index from the weapon, the revolver dangling by the trigger guard from his extended digit. “You and I are destined to do this forever” Ryan concludes, Jaime reaching out to take the weapon back into her own hands, looking down the barrel before lifting the weapon toward the ceiling. With the gentle tug of the trigger, Jaime sends a weak, clicking noise through the room, the lack of a gunshot putting a frown on Ryan’s face. | “How did we end up in the pool again?” Chris wonders aloud, an amused Alex joining him in leaning on the pool’s infinity installation. “I don’t really know that it matters, do you?” Alex responds, sharing humorous banter with the man before the conversation steps back to reality, their world inescapable. “Do you ever find it fun to forget about how everything used to be sometimes?” Chris asks, admitting to his profession affording him great benefits, “it still feels better this way.” With a shrug, Alex admits that it’s nice thinking of most post-catalyst things, regardless of how worrisome they tend to be. “I prefer the way it is now, but that doesn’t really say much” Alex admits, her ponytail-tied hair shifting with the rest of her head, “what about you?” Resting his chin upon the ever-flowing wave of water running over the lip, Chris admits that he would’ve preferred the world as it is now over everything that it once was. “I don’t need to feel unappreciated with what I do, I don’t need to worry about debt anymore” Chris continues, moving through the wonders before stopping at the cherry of the metaphorical sundae, “plus, I never would’ve met you without all of this.” Flattered, Alex looks away from the man, eyes glancing back at the city before her chin is led back by Chris’ hand, the two facing each other once more. Leaning in, Chris locks lips with the woman, a gentle kiss turning into two, which turns into three, and finally into four before being broken up. “Did I do something wrong?” Chris asks, watching Alex pull away, looking down in shame, her head shaking to refuse the notion implied. “No, you’re- you’re great! You’re seriously wonderful” Alex responds, unsure of how to react, “but I don’t think I should be doing this, and you’re nearly the same age as my daughter, and-” Continuing to list the reasons to forbid herself from taking part in such a display, Alex begins to argue against what’s happening, though her reasons for doing so slowly shift to present her own self doubt. “I think you’re unsure about this- which is perfectly reasonable- but you’re unsure for the wrong reasons” Chris replies, Alex’s eyes lifting back toward him, awaiting his conclusion, “you shouldn’t have to hide from the things you want.” Head falling again, Alex thinks to herself for a moment, the dead air allowing Chris to ask another question. “You do want to do this, right?” he inquires, the woman looking back up to him, still uncertain how to respond. “I- I think” Alex responds, trying to find a reason to leave, each attempt made coming with another reason to stay. “Do you want this?” Chris asks, cutting the question down further, laying it out in a simple fashion to find a resolution. “I do” Alex replies after a moment of consideration, the man quickly pedaling back on the quick succession what evolves between them. “Let’s do this right then” Chris responds, pushing himself back toward the pool’s submerged steps, “we’ll go to dinner tomorrow night and see where things go from there.” Feeling like a weight has been lifted from her chest, Alex agrees, her date leaving a trail of water behind him as he returns to his car. “Then I will pick you up tomorrow night at sunset” Chris concludes, leaving the woman with a smile, sun already beginning to set on the day. “It’s a date” the woman replies, while a still-soaked Chris departs without another word, his smile given back as he rounds the corner. Turning away from the path the younger man has left through, Alex looks back to the city, the massive towers in the distance blacked out as they are most nights, their sight giving her a sense of peace. | “Have we discovered anything new?” Jaime calls out, climbing through the fallen bramble in an effort to reach fire chief Fred Weller whilst Lazarus quickly follows alongside her. “We’ve definitely found something” the well-suited professional responds, reaching into his pocket and removing the casing of a small firework, noting that the presumed source of the spread appears to be a patch of black dirt, charred from the intense flames it had hosted. “So the fires are coming from these little things?” Jaime replies, the dystopian-era Los Angeles always finding new ways to surprise her. With a shrug, she directs Fred to point her to the nearest crossing point between the flames, only able to find a small piece of timber already having been burned. “I don’t care what your job does and does not entail- go back to the hall” Jaime orders Lazarus, the man immediately arguing against such action. “If you love something- set it free, big guy” the leader responds with humor, patting the man on the chest before removing the revolver from her boot, filling its cylinder with bullets, “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.” Hesitant, Lazarus gives into the woman’s request without much choice, but refuses to leave the spot he currently occupies. “Suit yourself” Jaime says with a shrug, marching toward the charred remnants of timber and crossing through the burning woodlands. Climbing over fallen trees, Jaime removes a flashlight from her hip and shines the dimmest setting through the desolate streets, a once thriving center now abandoned. With a groan, Jaime begins to walk the cut-off half of Los Angeles’ dark streets, whistling throughout her journey and signing a song. “There’s bound to be a ghost at the back of your closet...” Jaime chirps, her flashlight set to a higher brightness, “-no matter where you live.” Continuing on, Jaime remains persistent in her exploration, eyes moving wherever the light in her hand does, every building called into question. “There’ll always be a few things, maybe several things…” Jaime sings, shining her light along the height of some rather-tall feats of architecture, “...that you’re gonna find really difficult to forgive.” Aware of the irony behind the words she bellows, Jaime remains strong in her delivery, thumb pressing down on the button at the very bottom of her tool, giving the light a strobe-like effect. “There’s gonna come a day when you’ll feel better...” Jaime sings along, flashing her light down both ends of a street as she reaches an intersection, “...you’ll rise up free and easy on that day.” Choosing one direction in particular, Jaime continues her unaccompanied venture, the light she carries continuing to flash along the ground. “And float from branch to brand, lighter than the air…” Jaime moves on, kicking up dirt as she walks, “...just when that day is coming, who can say?...” she moves along, the sudden jolt of movement from behind prompting her to quickly spin, light flashing in the movement’s direction, “...who can say?” Stood in the middle of the road, Jaime presses her thumb upon the button once again, the strobe light steadying into one, highest-capacity brightness. Strolling toward an abandoned Chinese restaurant, Jaime flashes her lights through the doors, the colorful discard of something on the ground catching her eye. “Our mother has been absent, ever since we founded Rome…” Jaime sings, reaching down to retrieve an empty fireworks casing, “...but there’s gonna be a party when the wolf comes home.” | “Where’ve you been all day?” Julia asks, her brother strolling into her office with a pleased expression on his face. “I just booked a date with Alex Morris for tomorrow night” Chris replies, bobbing his head back and forth as the impressed grin on his sister’s face greets him. “You sly motherfucker” Julia responds, Chris quick to add the literal edge to the moniker. “So where do we take this from here?” Julia questions, a notepad full of information thrown aside as she pulls her chair closer to the desk. “We use your connection with Jaime, and my connection with Alex, to get straight into the mix” Chris replies, the current vacancy of Chevy and Kayla presenting them the perfect opportunity to slip into their spots and take over from there, “we’ll have this city- and this regime- eating out of our hands in no time.” Reaching into a drawer, Julia retrieves a glass of white wine and a pair of glasses, both placed upon the top of her desktop calendar. “I think this calls for a toast” Julia responds, the large bottle letting the beverage slip from its top and into the awaiting glasses below, “perhaps a celebration of the highest order in due time?” Wrapping his fingers around the bottom of his glass, Chris raises his drink into the air with a smile, Julia following once hers has been filled. “To new beginnings” Chris toasts, his sister’s glass immediately lowering back down, the woman quick to point out the lack of inspiration that toast brings. “Fine, to total control of Los Angeles” Chris replies, the gesture begrudgingly agreed with by the woman, who returns her glass to the air and clanks it against her brother’s own. | “Los Angeles, do you copy?” Chevy calls back, pulling his finger from the PTT button, a few moments passing before he makes the definitive call, “we’re officially out of reach.” Switching transmissions, Chevy speaks into the radio toward the cars in the convoy behind him, Kayla sleeping against his arm in the backseat. “Make a footnote, we fall out of range from L.A just outside of Vegas” Chevy exclaims, acknowledgement offered one by one as the seconds pass. “Boss?” the driver calls back, his finger pointing toward the distance, Chevy having to lean down to see what’s being pointed at, “is that our business or do we pass it?” Unable to truly figure out what he’s seeing at first, Chevy begins to describe what he perceives aloud, hoping someone would point him toward the right path. “I’ve got a big hunk of metal scattered through a field” Chevy responds, looking to the men around him, “what am I not seeing, boys?” Before any of his fellow travelers can respond, a question is asked through the radio, the car immediately behind Chevy answering his question. “Is that the mayor’s helicopter?” the voice on the other end wonders aloud, Chevy immediately glancing down at the radio before looking back toward the scattered field. “Our business” Chevy replies, the driver looking back at him through the rear-view mirror for confirmation, “-definitely our fucking business.” Directing all units toward the field, Chevy begins to slowly wake Kayla up, the woman quick to emerge from her slumber, looking out with the hopes of recognizing where they are. “We’re out of range from L.A, and we’re stopping at a crash site down there” Chevy explains, Kayla quickly looking toward the man with hope-filled eyes. Kicking dirt across the ground as their wheels skid to a stop, the convoy vehicles park in the middle of the open sand, Chevy and Kayla being the first to emerge. “Everyone keep your weapons drawn in case we’ve got company” Chevy orders, he and his love both armed with semi-automatic pistols. “If any of you spot the deputy mayor, make yourselves known” Kayla adds, approaching the hunk of metal burnt to a crisp, its collision having made a slight crater in the ground. “That’s the Los Angeles flag on the tail” Chevy exclaims, lucky enough to have spotted a well-preserved piece of the debris not too far off from the immediate impact. “It must’ve been saved from the flames” one of the convoy men exclaim, Chevy too busy climbing atop the wreckage to give such luck a second thought. “Pilots, two, both deceased, both burned obviously” Chevy exclaims, pulling himself up to the back of the bird for a better look, “no other occupants on board.” “I can see why!” a voice calls out from the distance, the one man responsible for the exclamation stood atop a small hill of bramble. “You have our guy?” Chevy calls out, he and Kayla both leading the convoy toward the young man’s position, the grim look on the mate’s face suggesting such a truth. Approaching the hill, Chevy and Kayla step over multiple fragments of burned or otherwise rotting flesh, a few bits of bone loitering the area leading to the grand finale. “He’s been decaying for a while, smells horrible, and isn’t very recognizable” the man explains, stopping himself to hold his arm over his face, keeping his lunch down long enough to walk away unscathed. “That’s our guy” Chevy exclaims, looking down at Django Wenton’s nearly inhuman-looking corpse, his clothes still identical to the ones he was wearing upon his escape. “What the fuck took him down?” Kayla immediately wonders in astonishment, looking through the mostly-flat area and lack of tall structures in the near-distance, “they definitely didn’t hit anything.” Stood over the decomposed corpse, Chevy holds his hand over both his own nose and that of his girlfriend’s, their eyes watering at the stench alone. “Whatever it is, I’d like to not stand around with our dicks in our hands waiting to find out” Chevy responds, moving his hand away from Kayla’s face and his own to spit on the corpse, their personal way of ridding their journey over concerns for the man’s whereabouts, “god bless America, I guess.” == Dire == |
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May 2023
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