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Season 3 Finale
Sat behind her desk, hands folded and mouth covered by her interlocked fingers, Jaime remains surrounded in silence, the only sounds she takes in being the blood running through the veins in her neck. Allured by the sudden tapping at her door, Jaime welcomes those on the other end to enter, Kayla soon poking her head in, the girl having come alone, unbeknownst to Chevy. “Have you been here all night?” Kayla asks, the woman’s eyes puffy from the tears she’d spent the moon-ridden hours exclusively shedding. “I’ve been here since I left the hospital” Jaime replies, no emotion shown in her voice, an uneasy silence falling over every moment that passes without a word being uttered. Closing the door behind her, Kayla walks further into the room, taking one of the chairs in front of Jaime’s desk, and simply looking at the grief-stricken woman. “I’m so sorry, Jaime” Kayla mutters, the apology prompting Los Angeles’ heartbroken hero to finally look back at her friend, a nod persisting. “Thank you, Kayla” Jaime responds, a heavy sniffle proceeding as the woman attempts to clear her mind, her responsibilities as Los Angeles’ spokeswoman still needing to be tended to, Jordan’s death not changing that. “Let me address the people” Kayla suddenly quips, Jaime looking at her without a word, wanting to hear her out before she gives any sort of response. “I’d never be able to step in front of them if I were in your shoes” Kayla explains, her own makeup slightly runny, “I’ll say whatever you need me to if you don’t want to go out there.” Clearing her throat, Jaime voices her appreciation for Kayla’s offer, respectfully refusing to send anyone out to be her puppet. “This is something that’s been set in stone for weeks, there’s no going back” Jaime explains, flashing a joyless smile toward the woman, “I have to do this.” Disappointed in the answer, Kayla nods to Jaime and expresses her understanding, head hung to allow for an intermission between their words. “What’s engagement like?” Jaime asks, the question popping up out of the blue, catching Kayla by surprise, the woman looking up to her curious friend. “I don’t mean to switch the subject” Jaime explains, her head running with too many thoughts to keep track of them all, “Jordan and I didn’t spend much time in that stage before, well- yeah.” Squeezing her hands between her thighs, Kayla presses her shoulders together as she struggles to describe it as anything other than joy. “It’s different to what it was before, I guess” Kayla replies, “sort of an accessory kind of thing, if nothing else.” Flashing the woman a smile, Jaime gives Kayla a nod before telling her to say what she wanted to. “It’s okay, I can handle it” Jaime explains, Kayla’s questionable look expressing her uncertainty in that statement, “seriously, I want to know.” Doubling down on her request, Jaime opens herself up to whatever is said, intentionally setting herself up to hurt with the hope of it making her more resilient. “It’s a wonderful feeling I never thought I’d be good enough for” Kayla responds, giving into the woman’s request, her own joy bringing a warm smile over Jaime’s face, “it’s to the only man I’d ever want to love, and the only man I ever have loved.” Taking in a breath, Kayla admits that she’s never felt this level of care in her life, feeling like there is someone looking out for her in every way imaginable, and this display of commitment renders it a permanent feeling. “It’s a lot to handle, especially when my self-criticism shoots through the roof” Kayla explains, puckering her lips together, failing to hide a smile, “it’s the greatest feeling in the world.” Wiping away a tear from her own eye, Jaime gives Kayla a nod, her asking about the engagement turning into the same question, just putting the baby into the subject instead. “It doesn’t feel real” Kayla replies, still unable to process it enough to find joy, the fear of childbirth mixing with the worry of not being a good enough mother burdening her, “I don’t really know if it’s hit me yet.” Chuckling to herself, Jaime can’t help but shed tears of happiness for the woman, feeling like the future she once had with Jordan remains alive in the possession of Chevy and Kayla. “You’re going to be a great mom” Jaime responds, the appreciative nod from the other woman preceding a wiping of Kayla’s own tear. “I just don’t wanna fuck up” Kayla replies, the stories of parents doing it wrong having always haunted her, “I want my kid to grow up knowing how much they were loved, and how much they were cared for.” Leaving her seat and walking over to Kayla, Jaime takes the woman’s hands into her own, promising that her child will never question her love. “You’re going to be an amazing parent” Jaime whimpers, both crying out of disappointment that she’ll never be able to say the same, as well as out of love for the woman she’s grown so close to, “you and Chevy are going to have the best lives.” Thanking Jaime, Kayla pulls the woman in for a hug, expressing her appreciation for everything she’s done, and everything the pair have seen together. “Alright, I’ve got a few things to do before today so-” Jaime says, stopping herself before Kayla nods in an understanding. “I’m here whenever you need me, okay?” Kayla asks, Jaime thanking her for all she’s offered, the pregnant woman leaving the room to Los Angeles’ ruler as she begins to feel her position sink in, the power she holds unrivaled by anyone else. The responsibilities upon her shoulders offer Jaime the drive to follow through with her remaining duties, as unbearable as they are. = 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 did you say?” Julia calls out, awakening Ryan from his uncomfortable slumber, the man having been curled into a ball upon the ground. “Wha-? Oh fuck!” Ryan responds, emerging from his sleep before jolting awake, crawling into the corner as best as he can to avoid the woman’s wrath. “Lazarus has been following me around all night, and he’s been keeping me from doing my work” Julia explains, slowly walking up to the man with a knife in her hand, “what did you say?” “Nothing! I said nothing!” Ryan shouts, hoping his voice would earn the attention of someone on the outside, a hope that Julia can see through with ease. “I’ve locked the entrance from both the hospital and city hall” Julia replies, kneeling down and holding the edge of the blade to Ryan’s throat, the man taking in deep breaths at the thought of death having finally caught up to him. “For the third- and if you don’t answer- final time” Julia exclaims, pressing the tip of the dagger into the skin, a small cut made on the side of the man’s neck, allowing blood to run, “what did you say?” Holding his hands out as best as he can, Ryan covers his tracks, reminding the woman that there’s more to the peacekeepers than just him. “Jaime already killed Caleb and Justin” Ryan explains, placing their deaths in the spotlight, “she’d probably assumed they’d worn out their use!” Fuming, Julia thinks about what she’s been told for a moment before reluctantly pulling the blade away, a small towel tossed into Ryan’s lap to cover the cut. “Jaime killed Caleb and Justin?” Julia asks, looking for clarification on what the man said, “I doubt Justin would crack, but I’m certain Caleb did.” Nodding, Ryan pushes himself to his feet with one hand whilst applying pressure to the fresh wound with the other. Disappointed in that result, Julia begins to pace around the room, unsure of what steps to take from here. Seeing an opportunity to gain favor with the woman, Ryan comes to a conclusion that can work in both of their favors. “You need someone on the outside that can drum up an audience” Ryan explains, the woman’s interest peaking the longer he speaks, “why don’t I help you get rid of Lazarus, and in return- you can get me out of this cell?” Noticing the strings left loose on that conclusion, Julia attaches herself to the most obvious of them all. “If they found Lazarus down here, especially with you having broken free, you’d be the most wanted man in Los Angeles” Julia explains, a nonchalant shrug returned by Ryan, who admits that he couldn’t care less. “As long as I can get out of L.A and you retain your place in Jaime’s ear- we’ll be untouchable” Ryan explains, the smile on Julia’s face growing. “I like how you think, inmate” Julia responds, agreeing to the plan laid out by her once-associate. | “I missed you guys” Kennedy replies, both Chevy and Kayla expressing the shared feeling, admitting that there were times they’d look around the bunker, finding things that would remind them of their small acquaintance. “We’d see a cool lamp, or we’d find something that looked really tacky” Kayla explains, rolling out her bottom lip as she shakes her head, “we’d immediately think ‘Kennedy would think that was the dumbest thing ever’.” After a few laughs are shared, Kennedy asks Chevy if he’s become more fond of having a kid, the question asked being one that Chevy has given very little thought. “I just got a big feeling of joy, and I didn’t really care about what I thought before” Chevy responds, admitting that he was simply happy that Kayla was happy. “Now that we’re gonna be parents, I guess I’d say I’m less ‘anti-kid’ than I was” Chevy replies, joking that he has Kennedy’s ‘cool-factor’ to thank for that. “Yeah, I’m the best” Kennedy jokingly responds, her mind wandering to the less-ventured sides of the question. “Have you thought of a name yet?” Kennedy asks, continuing to fold clothes, handing them off to Kayla to allow the older woman to stash them away elsewhere. “Ford” Chevy immediately replies, the joke not going over well with Kayla. “I swear, I will fucking divorce you” the woman responds, sending Chevy into a laughing fit as she returns to her unpacking. “Okay, have you thought of any non-car names?” Kennedy corrects, the smug eye roll from Chevy earning another laugh, though Kayla is quick to respond with one of her favorites. “I’ve always liked the name Veronica” Kayla replies, looking back to Chevy, who immediately looks back toward her, continuing to fold his shirts. “Yes, I’m sure our son will love the name ‘Veronica’” Chevy responds, the hand on the hip offered from his wife-to-be immediately bringing to mind another question. “Well you may be sure, but I’m positive our daughter will love it” Kayla replies, a humorous nod returned from Chevy, writing off such a possibility. “If it’s a girl, can we name her ‘Bernice’?” Chevy asks, the taken-back look given in return by Kayla immediately calling the name into question. “Why must you be this way?” she wonders aloud, Chevy’s animated bobble-head response prompting his fiance to deliver yet another playful smack to the head. “I find Bernice to be a lovely name to make fun of, thank you very much” Chevy responds, Kayla immediately shaking her head in refusal. “We’ll name our son ‘Veronica’ before we name our daughter ‘Bernice’” Kayla replies, watching her husband’s hands lift in surrender. “As Subway once taught me, have it your way” Chevy responds, continuing to fold clothes as a knock emerges from the other side of the door. “Come on in!” Chevy exclaims, watching Alex emerge from the other side, a small blanket held in the palm of her hand. Still emotional at the loss of Jordan, Alex puts on the most positive expression she can muster, approaching the expecting couple with a family heirloom. “I don’t know what you guys have planned for the delivery, or how you’re gonna raise the baby, or whatever else” Alex says, nervously handing the blanket to Chevy, “I wanted you guys to have this.” Confused, but appreciative, Kayla asks why the blanket specifically, its outdated stitching suggesting it to be rather old in manufactured-date. “It was my mothers from when she was younger” Alex replies, explaining how it was passed down to her when she was young, and she then passed it down to Jaime, who passed it down to Kennedy. “I wanted you guys to have it” Kennedy admits, having kept the secret from the couple until this point, both Chevy and Kayla unable to hide their smiles. “You want us to have it?” Chevy responds, an enthusiastic smile accompanying Kennedy’s nod, the heart of the parents-to-be melting with the present. “We love it” Chevy replies, Kayla wrapping her arm around the man as they look toward the mother-daughter pairing, “thank you, both of you.” Wrapping her arms around the pair, Kennedy gives Chevy and Kayla a hug, a pat on the back from the man returning the gesture. “You’re a good kid, Ken” Chevy whispers, the girl quick to agree upon her greatness. | “Hello!?” Ryan exclaims, purposefully making a racket for any on-duty guards to hear, his words calling out for help, “I need to use the bathroom!” His leg bouncing up and down, Ryan battles his nerves, the anxiety kicking in just as the door opens, allowing Lazarus to enter. Closing the door, Lazarus begins to approach the restrained man, who immediately tells him to stop walking. “Julia’s here and I’ve convinced her that we’re on the same side” Ryan is quick to warn, Lazarus immediately looking toward him, the look in his eye making it clear that he’s telling the truth. “She’s gonna try to kill you!” Ryan grunts, Lazarus’ back immediately turning to get the jump on the corrupt doctor, the cell door bursting open just as he does as Julia rushes in with a blade in her hand. Given the heads up, Lazarus throws his arms in the way of the woman’s initial attack at the last possible second, the blade digging into his forearm, just barely missing his neck. With a howl, Lazarus pulls his arms back, ripping the blade out of his muscle before reaching to his gun with his healthy arm. Having gained the upper hand, Julia rushes at Lazarus and throws a bicycle kick toward him, her foot pressing against the man’s wrist, his grip on the firearm released. Sliding across the floor, well out of reach for all three inhabitants, the gun comes to a rest in the deepest corner of the room, a wounded Lazarus initiating hand-to-hand combat with the ulterior-motivated doctor. Throwing a punch, Julia ducks the strike, reaching up to the wounded arm and digging her fingers into the gash, a groan emerging from Lazarus before sending the woman across the room. Wincing in pain, Lazarus stumbles toward the gun, tripping over himself before he can get close enough to retrieve it. Dusting herself off, Julia crawls her way up to the gun, the larger Lazarus immediately pulling her away, dragging her across the room before feeling her fingertips dig into his arm once more. The pain too great to fight through, Lazarus is forced to tend to his wound, the woman having scratched his bone with her fingernails in her most recent attempt. Seeing an opportunity, Julia stumbles to her feet and looks on at her work proudly, Ryan still stood off to the side of the room, watching everything unfold. Allowing Julia to kill Lazarus likely to result in his freedom, Ryan is given the choice, saving himself or doing his best to offer Lazarus a second lease on life. Watching Julia slowly stroll across the room, Ryan makes his decision, dragging his chains to the center before throwing himself into Julia. Blindsided by the attack, Ryan sends Julia crashing into the opposite wall, her body thudding into the concrete divider before bouncing back into Ryan’s grasp, allowing him to present an encore. Grabbing Julia by the hair, Ryan drags her back to his neck of the woods and slams her against the wall once more, wrapping the chains around her throat and pulling her to the ground, his calls for Lazarus to retrieve the gun being the wake-up call Jaime’s security detail needed. Forcing himself to fight through the pain, Lazarus drags himself across the room, the gagging from Julia accompanying his very own growls, the pain in every stretch of his hand body-numbing. “Lazarus, get the fucking gun alre-!” Ryan shouts, his words stopped by the piercing slash of a knife in his side, a shriek of pain emanating from the imprisoned man whilst his grasp on the chains dissipates. Wrapping his fingers around the gun, Lazarus stands to his feet and turns toward Julia, his attempt at aiming the weapon falling short as the woman had regained her bearings a moment too soon, allowing her to bury a dagger in Lazarus’ core. A gasp returned from his mouth, Lazarus loses the strength to hold the gun, the firearm falling to the ground as Julia continues to remove and return the blade to his flesh. After plunging the weapon in Lazarus’ core five times, Julia lets the man collapse to the ground, the life slowly leaving his eyes as he gasps for every breath he can muster. The only one unscathed, Julia looks back at Ryan, the man grabbing at his side as she looks toward him. “Please… Don’t kill me” Ryan mutters, one hand draped over his wound as the other is extended toward Julia, the woman laughing for a moment with Lazarus’ radio in her hands as she surveys the scene. “I don’t think I need to” Julia responds, watching Lazarus’ final signs of life deplete, the man dying on the very ground she left to drop upon, “I think you’re gonna get something a whole lot worse.” Catching his breath, Ryan shakes his head toward the woman, pleading for her to come back and release him, a request the woman immediately refuses. Without a word, Julia heads through the exit and slams the door shut, leaving the man to explain the scene he’s left amidst. Calling for the woman to come back, Ryan finds himself ignored, Julia’s footsteps carrying her toward city hall, leaving the man to take the fall for her act. | “We’re here for you” Chevy doubles down, he and Kayla proudly throwing their support behind Jaime as she prepares to address the public. “Good luck, sis” Kennedy wishes, wrapping her arms around the woman as Alex does the same, the older woman wishing her daughter luck. “No matter what, I’m proud of you” Alex whispers, Jaime, still wearing the weight of Jordan’s death on her heart, thanking her family for never having given in. “I’m stronger because of you two” Jaime explains, vowing that none of her success would have been possible had it not been for her family’s resilience, “I’m proud to be Jaime Morris.” Breaking the embrace, Jaime gives Amelia and Chris a fist bump, pulling Chevy and Kayla in for a hug. “Ken, Amelia and I are gonna collect our stuff from the hospital” Alex explains, the clearing of their temporary rooms still yet to be completed, “we’ll be watching from the T.V.” Vowing to do the same, Chris wishes the woman luck, accompanying Alex from one point to another. “Kay and I are gonna watch from the square” Chevy explains, wanting to be with the people when she declares Los Angeles its own sovereign nation. “I guess that means the stage is mine” Jaime responds, a humorous tone offered as she turns toward the coffin beside her, Jordan’s casket set to be led to the cemetery following the speech, where he’ll be given a proper burial. “We’ll give you a moment alone” Chevy says, patting the woman on the shoulder as he and Kayla direct themselves toward the crowd, Alex, Chris, Kennedy and Amelia departing to return to Cedar-Sinai. Left on her lonesome, Jaime removes her revolver and loads all six chambers with a bullet, a spin of the cylinder for good luck allowing her to return the weapon to her boot. “Chevy came up with the name ‘Angelino Republic’” Jaime speaks to Jordan’s casket, sharing her final conversation with the man whilst he’s still above ground, “I guess that’s better than anything I could’ve come up with.” Able to hold back her tears due to how many she’s allowed to fall over the last few hours, Jaime places her hand atop the oak-finished coffin and apologizes for not having been able to bring him back. “I miss you so fucking much. The hole that you’ve left me with will never be filled” Jaime explains, offering the departing words she couldn’t give the night before, “I can only hope to do you proud.” Calming her breathing down, Jaime admits that she’s still having a hard time trying to find the words to say. “Things like these don’t need words” a voice calls out from behind, leading Jaime to turn around, finding Kate, therapist-glasses and all, walking her through her grieving process. “You’re a figment of my imagination” Jaime replies, the first words she’s spoken to Kate since forcing herself to recall her untimely demise, a shrug emerging from the woman’s shoulders in response. “That’s never stopped you before” Kate responds, bobbing her head back and forth, “after all, I’ve been a memory of the past to you for the last few months too, so I don’t see how this could be any different.” With a laugh, Jaime admits that she’s spent the last few months going insane, an answer that Kate doesn’t exactly refuse. “You bought a mansion in the Los Angeles hillside and still chose to live with your parents” Kate remarks, a statement that brings a laugh out of Jaime, “you’ve been insane for a little while now, and it’s perfectly fine to be a little insane every now and then.” “Oh, is that what I owe myself?” Jaime replies, the jokes dying off as Kate answers that question with honesty. “No… What you owe yourself is a chance to be okay with everything that’s happened” Kate responds, acknowledging her imagery to Jaime in this moment to be an accurate depiction of what she would say if she were still around, “I’m disappointed that I never got to meet Jordan, but from what I’ve seen, he seems like someone you have every right to mourn.” Head hung, Jaime allows herself to accept such a statement as truth, the sound of Jordan’s voice calling out from the casket earning her attention. “Rather than mourn, I hope you’d take every chance to ask what I’d argue in favor of if I were there” Jordan’s imagery explains, a tear running down Jaime’s face as his presence brings a smile over her, “my ability to fight right beside you doesn’t go away just because I do.” Having rested his arm atop his own body’s coffin, Jordan approaches Jaime and places his hands on each side of her face, the sensation of which is something Jaime cannot physically feel, but one that can bring on a sense of serenity by being able to imagine. “Spirits aren’t what we think people leave behind just for shit’s and giggle’s, they’re the things we’ve influenced to work in a certain way” Jordan explains, his presence in Jaime’s life leading her to places she wouldn’t have seen without him. “You led your people to sanctuary when Los Angeles first fell by listening to what I taught you” Kate explains, Jordan picking up from where the woman left off, “and you led Los Angeles by being who I helped you become.” Taking Jaime by each hand, Kate and Jordan look into the woman’s eyes, telling them that she has permission to let them go. “We’ll only ever be gone in presence...” Kate explains, her thought concluded by Jordan, “...but we’ll never be gone in spirit.” Thanking Kate and telling Jordan that she loves him, Jaime is assured that they have both always known that, a final goodbye offered before their images leave her mind, fading into thin air and leaving Jaime alone again. With a deep breath, Jaime turns toward the front doors and adjusts her shirt collar, aligning it perfectly before stepping toward the doors, her fist lifting into the air and tapping against the royal-esque finish. With a clanking sound, the heavy doors of city hall begin to part, bathing Jaime in the sunlight above whilst presenting her to the world for the very first time. | “Almost ready?” Julia asks, accompanying her brother as he wheels a set of crates through the untraversed halls of Mount Cedar-Sinai. “Yeah, but what the fuck happened to you!?” Chris replies, watching Julia adjust herself, throwing a whitecoat over the bloodstains on her shirt, admitting that she was covering her tracks. With the shake of his head, Chris begins to roll his eyes at the pounding fists inside the wooden crates, assuring those within that the transaction is almost complete. “The ride will be a lot less bumpy soon, I promise” Chris exclaims, his sister pushing the loading bay doors open to grant her brother easier access, the crates being quickly loaded onto a truck before being tied down. “That’s six individuals, all under one-hundred and fifty pounds!” Chris exclaims, taking his sister’s hand as he leads himself off the platform, turning to those responsible for the pickup, “is our delivery inside?” Tossing his clipboard into the passenger’s seat, Cody walks back toward Chris and Julia, tipping his hat toward the pair, assuring them that movers have already wheeled their shipment to their desired location. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Cody” Chris responds, shaking the man’s hand as he assures him that the business is always great when done with the man. Hopping into his truck, Cody drives off with the live shipment struggling for their freedom in the back, Chris and Julia immediately moving on with their day. “Let’s hope our work paid off!” Julia exclaims, high-fiving her brother and returning to the hospital. | “Good afternoon, people of Los Angeles” Jaime exclaims, beginning her speech in front of a captivated audience, those on the outside of Los Angeles’ borders silent, watching the woman from a screen set up near the perimeter. “As some of you may have heard by now, there is an update regarding Jordan, whom most of you probably recognize as my fiance” Jaime explains, sharing the news of his untimely death the night prior. “I’m not going to lie, it’s been a very difficult night, and I’ve had more than a few people tell me I shouldn’t go ahead with today’s address” Jaime explains, standing alone at the podium, only a few people in the security detail. “I believe it’s important to keep transparency, and that is what I am striving to do” Jaime explains, making it known that she has to share less fortunate news to begin her address. “Unfortunately, in an unexpected event, Ryan Mulaney- who I’m sure most of you will recognize as the man who attempted to kill me a few short weeks ago- was transported to Mount Cedar-Sinai for medical assistance” Jaime continues, admitting that he had managed to escape his imprisonment. “In the process, Ryan Mulaney burned what has been estimated to be sixty-five percent of our harvested crops” Jaime explains, a few whispers shared amongst the crowd. “I don’t want to sound like I’m blowing my own horn, but I proceeded to take matters into my own hands” Jaime explains, “I’ve struck a deal with a nearby settlement in Lancaster that- while unable to help us meet our early-September deadline- will help us recoup our losses by the middle of October.” Promising that the wait is nearly over, Jaime explains that she is doing everything she can to add to the power emergency services have within Los Angeles. “Unfortunately, that is not the most mind-boggling news I have to offer” Jaime explains, her voice carried through the television set in Alex’s room, the woman watching with a remote in her hand whilst Kennedy stares in the background, Amelia dividing her attention between Jaime’s speech and her read-through of the book ‘How Democracies Die.’ “Our very own Chevy Harrison and Kayla Burnett, along with select members of their convoy, uncovered the deepest truths of what we’ve come to call ‘the catalyst’” Jaime explains, “and in the process of that discovery, we lost one brave soul. Mr. Benjamin Lasner sadly passed age 17.” Explaining that a select few government officials purposely sabotaged the greater American government, Jaime praises Chevy and Kayla for leading a counter attack that killed such saboteurs. “As far as we know, Mr. Eugene Madison was responsible for sabotaging Air Force One amidst the first day of the catalyst” Jaime explains, refusing to hold back a smile, “he has since been discarded of.” With a roaring applause, Jaime allows the crowd to continue for a moment before breaking down the more severe outcome of such truth. “Because of this finding, however, it is apparent that the American government is no longer in operation” Jaime explains, cutting straight to the bone, “as far as I can gather- we are all that’s left.” The crowd coming to a hush, Jaime explains that Los Angeles is the only democratic settlement left on the continental United States, and the lack of any greater-government body means that she is the acting leader of a new, sovereign nation. “I have decided to rename Los Angeles in an effort to change with the great shift we are experiencing” Jaime explains, “as far as today, we are to now be known as the Angelino Republic.” Though sparse at first, the crowd begins to applaud the decision, their safety being the only noticeable safety in the United States it that moment, the ground they walk upon offering them true sanctuary unfound elsewhere. “Now, this has been something that was suggested to me long ago, ironically by Mr. Ryan Mulaney” Jaime explains, recalling the words specifically. “Ryan said that I would eventually have to decide whether or not I would rule with an ‘iron fist’, or rule with a ‘velvet glove’” Jaime explains, both hands pressed against the podium she speaks at, “and truth be told, I-” Before the woman can finish, a swell in the crowd begins to emerge, gathering in numbers the closer they reach the stairs, pushing past members of the crowd whilst chanting. “Keep the peace! Keep the peace!” the men and women shout, interrupting the woman’s address to actively protest her rule, “Keep the peace! Keep the peace!” “What the hell is going on?” Chevy mutters beneath his breath, a guard intending to push his way through the crowd answering the man’s question as he passes him. “We’ve got a mob of protestors that don’t like your girl” the man replies, demanding the civilians move out of the way as he and countless other guards swarm the sea of protestors. “Keep the peace! Keep the peace!” the protestors continue to shout, the sounds of their chants audible to the imprisoned Ryan, his eyes widening. “It’s the peacekeepers!” one of his crewmates shout, the glee in his voice audible from the other room, the man jumping for joy at the sound of their militia storming the steps of city hall. Mouth agape, Jaime looks out at the display, directing the group to calm down and halt their interruption, the request for peace being denied by the men and women that ironically preach for its defense. “Keep the peace! Throw her out!, Keep the Peace! Throw her out!” the protestors begin to chant, their delivery changing up, making it clear to the woman at the podium that she is not wanted in charge. In awe at this display, Jaime backs away from her placement, eyes wide as she sees the protest continue to ensue. “Where is Lazarus!?” Jaime calls back to her security detail, the closest thing she has left to a lead-figure in the department admitting that he never showed. “The last I heard, he was headed for interrogation” another man exclaims, his suggestion not a solid lead, but it serves as better than nothing. Shaking her head, Jaime turns back and returns to city hall, demanding her detail keep the doors open and await her return. Entering the dungeon, Jaime hears the faint cry for the peacekeepers in the distance, her feet continuing to carry her throughout the long tunnel that connects the hospital to city hall. “Lazarus!?” Jaime shouts, calling for the man’s name, a few additional calls for his response prompting for a familiar voice to call out her name. Rushing to the sound of the shouting, Jaime pushes the door to Ryan’s room open and finds the man cut in the stomach, Lazarus lying in a pool of his own blood in the middle of the room. “Oh my god!” Jaime exclaims, looking around the man for a radio, her fingers reaching to his neck and checking for a pulse. “Julia- it’s Julia!” Ryan shouts, grimacing at the pain that his wound presents, Jaime’s fingers slowly leaving the man’s neck as she notices the lack of a pulse. “I told Lazarus that she’d bribed me to kill Jordan, she came down here asking questions and I tried to bait her!” Ryan exclaims, watching the woman kneel before her security detail, seething at the sight of his dead body. “I tried to help him corner her, but she jumped on him too fast!” Ryan exclaims, explaining Lazarus’ wounds and his own gash, admitting that there was nothing he could do. Unable to respond, Jaime remains knelt over Lazarus’ body, the woman blisteringly angry, unable to hear anything through the rage that burns deep within her gut. “Jaime, are you listening to me!?” Ryan exclaims, watching her face slowly turn toward him, teeth clenched. “Julia is-” Ryan begins, stopping himself the moment that he watches Jaime’s sights set on him, the hair falling over her face as she reaches into her boot. “Holy shit…” Ryan exclaims,, watching Jaime stand up with the revolver in her hand, “...I can see fear!” Amazed, Ryan watches Jaime take the gun toward him and pull the trigger at his knee, a bullet ripping through his leg as he screams in agony. “No...” Jaime responds, taking a key off Lazarus and unlocking the man’s restraints, refusing to hear him out as his actions against Jordan brand him as ‘unforgivable’ in her eyes as her voice lowers to a deep, guttural growl, “...no you do not.” Wrapping the chains around her hand, Jaime begins to drag the man’s wounded body out of the room, leading him by the restraints and back into the main complex of city hall. Whilst the protests continue to burn bright, a conflict begins to break out amongst the crowd, Chevy and Kayla quickly standing off to the side as chaos begins to arise, one side fighting the other until Jaime finally emerges from within the building. Pulling Ryan the rest of the way, Jaime throws the man toward the edge of the top-most step, a revolver in her right hand as the crowd begins to gasp, this display never having been expected. “This is Ryan Mulaney… The man responsible for killing Jordan Cutler, and the man responsible for killing Lazarus Adams” Jaime exclaims into the microphone, her voice being captured by the world in full quality, the tone of the day having changed dramatically. “I swear, I had nothing to do with Lazarus!” Ryan exclaims, knelt upon the ground with his knee in his hand, the woman raising the gun toward his head, an audible gasp coming over the sea of spectators below. “He’s also one of the notable members of a group called ‘the peacekeepers’” Jaime explains, opening the cylinder of her revolver and taking out all but one bullet, “therefor, he represents what’s possible when you rule with a ‘velvet glove’.” “You, or me?” Jaime asks, watching Ryan shake his head in refusal, her finger spinning the cylinder before the base of her hand slams it shut. Owning up to his mistakes, Ryan holds his hand out and promises to play along, only requesting one thing. “Let me confess” Ryan explains, vowing to own up to the wrongs he has committed, the woman letting the gun fall to her side at this suggestion. “I owe it to you” Ryan explains, the face of Jaime beginning to fall, allowing the man to plead his case. Limping to the podium, Ryan leans toward the microphone and catches his breath, hands and chin scraped from falling upon the city hall steps. “I did a horrible thing” Ryan explains, admitting to his faults, “I should have never taken that shot at you, and what it resulted in is something I can never take back.” Shaking his head, Ryan admits that he was responsible for Jordan’s death, and admits that he wishes he could take it back. “But I did not kill Lazarus” Ryan explains, the woman beginning to look on in anger, allowing the man to continue. “If you want to kill me for what I did to Jordan, fine… I believe in an eye for an eye” Ryan replies, ready to meet his maker, “but do not let Julia get away with what she did to Lazarus… He was a good man that didn’t deserve what happened to him.” Hesitant to buy what the man is selling, Jaime approaches Ryan and regains her composure, taking in a few deep breaths before looking the man in the eyes. “Jaime Morris, Jaime Cutler, whatever you wish to be known as…” Ryan continues, watching the woman nod as he concludes, “I am sorry.” Biting her bottom lip, Jaime takes a moment of silence to weigh her options, the man continuing to look at her, awaiting a response. Closing her eyes, Jaime points her face toward the sky, her face glistening with sweat from the heatwave-inducing, mid-day sun. With a deep sigh, Jaime looks back toward Ryan and keeps her reply simple. “Thank you” Jaime responds, the relief that comes over the man’s face accompanied by a heavy sigh. Without hesitation, Jaime lifts the barrel of her revolver to Ryan’s head and watches him look up, widened eyes glancing back at her for the brief moment between realization and result. With the squeeze of her trigger, Jaime sends a bullet firing through the barrel and tearing through the back of Ryan’s skull, the man’s dead body toppling to the ground with a sickening thud. In a moment of terror and panic, the crowd gasps and screams at the result, the display not having been something either side of the debate had been expecting. In complete disbelief, Chevy and Kayla cover their mouths in shock, the echo of the gunshot reverberating through the Angelino Republic, a result that horrifies them. Looking down at what she’d done, Jaime reaches toward the fragmented skull and places all five fingers on her dominant hand together, dipping them in the bullet hole made between Ryan’s still-widened eyes. Returning to the podium, Jaime concludes her address, the display having been something that brought such a shock upon the entire crowd that each side remains deathly silent. “As much as I could never- and would never- be able to stand that smug-faced punk…” Jaime explains, a nod coming over her as she looks to her blood-soaked hand, “...he did have one very excellent point.” Looking back to the crowd, Jaime extends her hand toward the mid-war sides, explaining that this kind of self-implosion is something that the Angelino Republic cannot survive with, and admits that it is something only possible when done beneath the control of a velvet glove. “Ryan did say that I’d have to make a decision eventually, and it really feels like the time has finally come…” Jaime explains, finding the camera in the audience and looking directly into it, “...I choose an iron fist.” Leaving the podium, Jaime turns back toward city hall, a nod to the new head of her security detail giving the order to escort citizens back to their homes, essentially putting a mandatory lockdown into effect. Returning to the building, Jaime tucks her revolver back into her boot and begins to walk the halls, the massive complex doors closing behind her, dividing her from the public once more. “What just happened?” Kayla mutters aloud, in awe at what she and Chevy had just witnessed, her fiance putting his arm around her and holding her tight, admitting that he has no idea. Discouraged, Alex powers the television in her room off, closing her eyes and subtly shaking her head in disapproval at the sights she’d just seen. On the contrary, Kennedy stands back, encouraged by the display her sister had just put on, a subtle nod of approval given from her. Caught in neither camp, Amelia sits atop her bed, mouth wide open as the cover of her book slowly falls from her hands, closing without having been greeted with a bookmark. Stood atop Mount Cedar-Sinai hospital, Chris and Julia look over the downtown area of the Angelino Republic and clink their wine glasses, the roar of the live feed able to be heard from the television set just behind them. “Well done, Christopher” Julia exclaims, taking a sip from her drink. Responding with the same gesture, “Well done, Juliana” Chris replies, basking in the success they’ve found. Watching the massive doors shut, Chevy watches the inside of city hall be sealed off from the public as the crowd is forced to depart the area, held at gunpoint by the now-hostile guards. Already known as part of Jaime’s inner circle, Chevy and Kayla are avoided, the guards continuing to shuffle the population back to their homes as both look to the capitol building with ire, worried that today’s events have just changed everything. Walking up to Jordan’s coffin, Jaime presses her five blood-stained fingers to the wood, waiting a few seconds before letting her hands fall, justice having been offered to her fallen love, the blood of his killer left to accompany him to the grave. Entering her office, Jaime closes her doors and approaches her wine rack, the most expensive bottle of her beverage of choice being poured into a modest glass. Walking up to her office window, Jaime looks out at the sights she’s afforded, raising the glass to her lips and taking a sip. With a satisfied breath, Jaime gives herself a nod and allows a smile to come over her face, eyes looking out at the boundary of the Angelino Republic. From above, Jaime’s republic appears as the only space of lucious green for miles, the charred, blackened remnants of the outside world covering her in every direction, her sanctuary the last true symbol of a dead nation. == Dire ==
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Beckoned for by a tapping at her office door, Jaime calls for the entry of those on the other side, a cheerful Kennedy immediately bursting into the room, a happy look on her face. “Chevy and Kayla are coming back!?” Kennedy exclaims, Jaime’s light-hearted amusement a product of Kennedy’s pep-heavy steps, the rumors circling Los Angeles confirmed. “They ran into trouble in Cheyenne, the power was knocked out and their communications were down” Jaime replies, “they just radioed in this morning.”
“Fuck yeah!” Kennedy shouts, punching the air and earning herself the laughter of her older sister, a half-hearted reminder to the younger girl to keep her profanity at a minimum the only thing worth responding with. “So when will they be back!?” Kennedy wonders, the rumor mill having never given her an exact timeframe. “They just crossed Las Vegas at dawn, so I’d assume they’d be back in Los Angeles by sundown” Jaime responds, another phantom-punch thrown by Kennedy. “So, wait… What happened to them?” the child replies, the curiosity boiling over the edge of what she can contain, a moment of consideration radiating off Jaime, who tells her sister not to dwell on it. “The important thing is that Chevy and Kayla are alright, there were minimal casualties, and they’re on their way home” Jaime explains, shaking her head with a reassured grin, “that’s all that matters.” Accepting her sister’s answer, Kennedy gives Jaime a nod, remaining quiet, her lack of a follow-up concerning the older woman. “Something on your mind, Ken?” Jaime asks, her younger sister’s lack of eye contact proving to be a troubling response, the reluctance to answer visibly weighing its toll. “Ken, what’s wrong?” Jaime doubles down, leaving her seat and walking around her desk, occupying the vacant chair beside her sister, a bothersome tone in the younger girl’s voice. “I don’t want you to be offended, because I know you trust them, but-” Kennedy begins, stopping herself to find the courage to explain her appearance without sounding jealous or petty, “-I don’t trust Chris and Julia.” Confused at first, Jaime slowly recalls the tug of war that resulted from their discussion over how to address the public, the assumption of its occurrence being viewed as the reason in Jaime’s eyes until her sister suggests otherwise. “That’s not the reason” Kennedy responds, admitting that she can’t describe why, but her gut just gets twisted when they’re around, “it’s like they’re just pretending to care.” Laying her arm upon the side of the chair and leaning her head against her fist, Jaime lets Kennedy continue, not wanting to take her younger sister’s instincts as gospel, but not wishing to disregard her concerns either. “Chris is confusing because he seems like someone who seems alright sometimes, and seems weird in others” Kennedy explains, her head shaking as she thinks about Julia, “that girl just doesn’t seem right at all.” Looking to her sister’s arms, Jaime notices the hairs stand on end, Kennedy’s take on the woman not one that she feels especially comfortable with, her instincts as the older sister kicking into action upon this notice. “I know they have their smart moments, I get that their doctors, I understand that they’re important” Kennedy explains, finally looking back into her sister’s eyes, “but I don’t trust them.” Sucking in a deep breath, Jaime glances toward the depths of her office, considering her options for a moment before finally coming to a decision. “I’ll sit down and talk with them” Jaime replies, quickly assuring Kennedy that she’ll try to figure out why she feels that way, “see for myself, okay?” Knowing this to be the best her sister can offer, Kennedy gives a silent nod to Jaime and leaves the chair, her sister watching Kennedy leave and shut the door behind her. Looking back to her desk, Jaime scratches at the back of her head before letting the deep breath leave her lungs. “First order of business, however- prepare to face the public tomorrow” Jaime says to herself, returning to her usual seat, “it’s time to make a decision, Jaime.” = 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 = “So this is where the magic happens?” Alex wonders aloud, following Chris through an abandoned warehouse, the interior reformatted to serve as the new center for Los Angeles-based transmissions. “Tomorrow, pieces of computer engineering heaven will broadcast Jaime’s address to every television within fifty miles” Chris explains, looking at the massive cultivation of technology with his mouth agape, “it’s a lot more daunting when you see it in person.” Admitting to her lack of prowess in the field of anything the building houses, Alex finds herself unable to understand most of what Chris is in awe of. “I see a big room with a bunch of big machines” Alex explains, pointing out the blinking lights and the long cords extending from one machine to another, “it makes the television work, and it lights up.” Realizing the out-of-touch sensation the woman is experiencing, Chris offers his hand, promising to lead her somewhere less difficult to comprehend. Venturing throughout the compound, Chris leads Alex into a small room in the very back of the building, one flick of the light switch bathing a small studio in luminescent lighting. “Welcome to the future hub of Los Angeles daily news” Chris exclaims, standing in the middle of the room with his hands extended, the laughter from Alex proving contagious. Putting into words what the studio will soon look like, Chris details Los Angeles’ new center of information, the person stationed behind the desk holding the power of public perception in the palm of their hands. “It sounds like whoever’s hired is going to have one hell of a headache running that kind of power” Alex responds, the suggestion one that fails to phase Chris. “I think it’s important to have a face to break the news” Chris explains, admitting that Jaime continuing to serve that position will only prove dangerous, “if there’s a third party telling it like it is, no one shoots the messenger, and Jaime doesn’t have to play ‘public servant’ when her time could be better spent elsewhere. Openly expressing her appreciation for such a weight lifted off her daughter’s shoulders, Alex admits that she has hope in the right person being hired for the job. “That’s exactly what I was thinking” Chris replies, leaning against the new anchor’s desk with a mostly-hidden smile, “which is why I think that person should be me.” Head tilted to one side, Alex asks the man if he’s serious, a question he confirms with his answer.” “I love what I do, don’t get me wrong- but I feel like the news should be handled by someone that understands what it’s like to give both good and bad versions” Chris explains, “plus, the hospital doesn’t offer me much anymore.” Explaining his speciality of operating the various outdated machinery in the building, as well as serving to diagnose minor issues when compared to his colleagues, Chris admits that he’s just barely more than a well-paid statue in his current occupation. “It’s only a matter of time before we start going out to steal newer-modeled machines that I’m not trained in, or the ones we have break beyond repair” Chris explains, “Cedar-Sinai is hiring a ton of volunteer doctors right now, and a ton of them have much more experience than me.” Unsure how to react, Alex asks the man why he’d want the job, his desire to serve the public in a role better suited for him proving to be the main focus. “If I’m leaving my post as a doctor behind, I want it to be in favor of something I can still help people through” Chris explains, looking back at the anchor’s desk with a smile, “being the calm voice at the end of the day is the perfect next step.” With a sigh, Alex looks at the desk with a frown, her nod giving the man whatever her blessing is worth. “I hope you get the job, then” Alex responds, simply happy to see the man succeeding, his response only confusing her more. “I hope I do, too” Chris replies, his smile fading behind his thin lips once more, hands pushing him away from the desk and closer toward Alex, “-which is why I was hoping you could put a good word in for me.” Surprised, Alex asks the man why he’d ask for such a favor, unsure why she’d be the person he’d go to for the request. “You’re Jaime’s mom. I figured if anyone could convince her, it’d be you” Chris responds, apologizing for the favor, admitting he wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. “If there’s anyone I know that would be willing to do this job, and to do it for the right reasons, it’d be me” Chris explains, another glance to the desk taken during a pause, “I can’t imagine anyone else behind it.” Disappointed, Alex looks back to the seat Chris wishes to occupy, her eyes sad, but her heart telling her to make a decision her brain wishes not to. “Okay” Alex replies, biting the bullet and willing to take one for the couple, “I’ll try my best.” With a smile, Chris pulls Alex in for a kiss, their embrace following shortly after, the satisfied look on his face differing heavily from the guilt-ridden expression upon Alex’s. | The door to his room squealing as it is pushed open, Ryan faces the back of the room, refusing to acknowledge whom he presumes to be Lazarus, preparing to continue the protest of what he perceives to be a violation of his rights. “I hear you’ve taken on a hunger strike” a familiar voice calls out, the presence of Jaime approaching his table putting a surprised look on his face, eyes quickly turning back toward her as she removes the revolver from her boot. “My turn, or yours?” Jaime asks, Ryan silently nudging his head toward the woman, his body trembling as the strength is depleted from him one day after another. With a shrug, Jaime lays a single bullet into the cylinder and lets it spin, slamming it into the gun and pulling down the hammer. Without hesitation, Jaime raises the gun to her own head and pulls the trigger, an empty click returned to both parties as the result, a second pull giving the same conclusion. Emptying the cylinder and returning the weapon to her boot, Jaime takes a seat upon the other side of the table, crossing both arms atop the wooden surface. “Sometimes I understand you, and other times I don’t” Ryan explains, shaking his head and looking away, the same song and dance between himself and Los Angeles’ leader having been performed many times before now, “but regardless of which is which, I refuse to acknowledge you as my leader.” Puckering her lips, Jaime nods to herself and folds her hands, letting her interlocked fingers fall into her lap as she sits back in her seat, admitting that she realized that a long time ago. “Your harshest critics are often the ones that can’t see past their preconceptions enough to acknowledge anything halfway-decent” Jaime explains, a loud sucking of her bottom lip proceeding to echo around the room, “but unlike before, you don’t have much of a choice now.” Squinting his eyes, Ryan looks back at the woman, the tray of food he’d left sat upon the floor being met with the tip of Jaime’s boot, her leg shoving the tray back toward him. “You don’t have any ‘god-given rights’ anymore” Jaime explains, referencing Chevy and Kayla’s trip out to Colorado, “the results have officially come back in my favor, and they’re on the way back right now- engaged, expecting their first child, and ready to offer the ultimate declaration.” “What are you talking about?” Ryan responds, skeptical of the point Jaime is trying to make, her vagueness falling aside immediately upon being questioned. “I’m saying the last of the U.S government has officially been disposed of” Jaime replies, the worried look in Ryan’s eyes immediately offering her the only true insight she came down to his confines for, “the only thing Los Angeles has left is what Los Angeles has now.” Closing his eyes, Ryan looks toward the heavens and shakes his head, his worst fears having come true, the only hope he had left being flushed down the drain. “So I wanted to let you know that I’m perfectly free, as determined by myself, to do as I wish with you” Jaime explains, his fate now being left solely in her own possession, “and I plan on making my decision based upon the justice I believe that Jordan’s owed.” Getting up to leave, Jaime begins to walk for the front door, silence accompanying her until the moment her hand rests upon the handle, a call out from within the room gaging her interest. “You’re the villain of this story, Jaime” Ryan exclaims, the eye roll that leaves the woman’s face preceding a smile, “you’re the villain of this story whether you can see that right now or not. Now that there’s nothing to stop you, you’re going to turn into exactly what I thought.” Turning back, Jaime’s long, blonde-highlighted, brown-rooted hair whips over her shoulder, a smile given back to the man chained up behind her. “What you were trying to do was kill my fiance- don’t think I haven’t gotten the softer bunch of you to talk already!” Jaime exclaims, Ryan’s head shaking at the response, “the one person I most need in this world was put in a hospital bed because of you, and not because you were a bad shot, but because you were a good one.” Still shaking his head, Ryan admits that the original plan was never to fire at Jordan, regardless of what the result ended up being. “It doesn’t matter what the plan was supposed to be, the crime was that it existed at all” Jaime responds, returning to the table and taking it into her hand, a single swipe hurling the furniture across the room, nothing standing between herself and Ryan now. “The crime is that it served all the same” Ryan replies, admitting that his outlook hasn’t changed regardless of who was aimed for, a gesture that confuses Jaime. “Either you died, and Los Angeles was saved from whatever you had in store for it- or Jordan died and you went crazy without someone to hold you back” the inmate exclaims, finally leaving his seat and getting as close to Jaime’s face as his restraints will allow, “we’d either die saviors, or we’d die martyrs.” Shaking her head, Jaime begins to remind Ryan of the negotiation she helped pull off, her recalling of martyrdom being left off the table stopped by the prisoner before it can be voiced. “I don’t care what deal you crafted, time will heal all wounds” Ryan responds, noting the reputation of the peacekeepers to be one of them, “you can’t paint me as the bad guy now. Time will show me to have been right.” Aggravated, Jaime remains silent, staring into the eyes of Ryan as he continues to argue his point, the statements he presents as truths only serving to anger her more. “We all need a rock in our lives, ones that will hold us back from getting too ahead of ourselves” Ryan explains, finally offering Jaime the first kind wish he’s given her thus far, “I sincerely hope Jordan pulls through soon enough, because anything you touch is in for a rude awakening if he doesn’t.” “You don’t know that” Jaime replies, Ryan quick to argue otherwise, reminding her of what he’s promised to live on as when enough time has passed. “I don’t need to know the full-on accuracy of my statements… I only need to know that they’re true” the man responds, leaning forward to press the tip of his nose toward Jaime’s, “and while I may not know how the future will heal itself, I know who you are now… And you are a dangerous person.” Breathing heavily, Ryan stares into the woman’s eyes, her anger boiling to a point he’s rarely seen before, silence being left between the two until a single knock upon the window ends their tense moment. “Who gave Skhrelli the order?” Jaime replies, Ryan left shaking his head with a defeated grin. “I don’t know… It wasn’t our place to ask” he responds, the deep breath from Jaime concluding her final attempt at ripping information off of the man. “Thanks for giving Jordan your best wishes” Jaime concludes, leaving the man to return to the door, “I’ll be sure to pass them along.” Slamming the entrance shut on her way out, Jaime leaves Ryan to himself, the man calming down for a moment before returning to his seat. Defeated, his hand reaches down and picks up an apple as he takes a single bite from the fruit while he shakes his head. | “I hope you’re not genuinely catching feelings for this woman” Julia exclaims, stood against a wall on Chris’ way back to the office, the sound of her voice startling him at first. “What?” Chris replies, not having heard the statement correctly the first time, or at least hoping he hadn’t heard it at all. “We’ve put a lot of effort into climbing our way into Jaime’s inner circle, and we’re almost out of time” Julia explains, Chevy and Kayla’s return crowding the bunch, “so I hope your head is still in the right place.” With a chuckle, Chris informs the woman that he just convinced Alex to argue in favor of his promotion to the lead anchor of the city’s upcoming return to television news. “You what?” Julia responds, her head leant forward as she struggles to fit the man’s new role-in-waiting into the plan they’ve already committed to. “We’re supposed to be influencing Jaime, not the public” Julia replies, failing to find the same ground to stand on as her brother has, “where the fuck does that plan fit into our plan?” Rolling his eyes, Chris tells his sister that they can’t count on Jaime bending to their every suggestion, a fall back option being necessary where they stand. “If we fall out of favor with Jaime- for whatever reason that may be- we remain in favor with the people” Chris explains, his hand held beside him, picturing a globe in his palm, “if we can’t control the narration, we can control the narrative.” Shaking her head, Julia unfolds her arms and begins to walk back to her office, telling her brother that she hopes he knows what he’s doing. “I’ve never once lost sight of the big picture, Julia” Chris exclaims, watching the girl turn back toward him, her face suggesting a lack of full-dedication to believing him, “- don’t ever think otherwise.” With a shrug, Julia steps through the door and departs for her office, Chris left behind to gather his composure as he returns to work as if the conversation had never happened. | “I’m really proud of you, Carly” Chevy explains, Kayla left sleeping on his arm, the woman that led the fight against the enemy forces sat in the seat beside them. “Thanks, boss” Carly responds, a heartbroken smile returned to him, Chevy quickly noticing this reaction, inquiring over it. “What’s the look for?” Chevy asks, Kayla finally opening her eyes, unable to catch any sleep on the ride thanks to the bumpy terrain a few miles outside of Los Angeles making for the poor conditions. “I watched him die” Carly replies, the journey they’ve taken over the last few days having failed to fully heal the scars of their final defense, the early arrival into Los Angeles leaving little time for the wounds to scab. “He died protecting what we all went to war for” Kayla responds, her eyes remaining fixated on the road ahead, “the only difference between him and us is that what we were protecting cost him his life.” Understanding of that, Carly still feels partially responsible for the man’s death, his actions a result of an oversight the pair of them allowed to happen. “Had we checked those guys better, we’d never have let them on the premises” Carly explains, the self-blame immediately fought back by the man responsible for having called the shots. “We can sit here and all blame ourselves for something- literally anything” Chevy explains, himself included. “Had I cleared how many people were coming to replace us with Jaime, I’d never have given you the greenlight to let them through” Chevy explains, his point being that they all played a part in the events that occurred. “The bottom line is that none of us should be wearing this on our chest too heavily” Chevy explains, the weight she and others carry not being deserved, “the last thing you need to do- especially with what we know now- is weigh yourself down.” Latching onto her fiance’s argument, Kayla tells the woman to live her life carrying the spirit of two, the only way to allow oneself to carry such weight being to allocate it properly. “If you’re gonna hold Ben’s death against yourself, do it the right way” Kayla explains, her hand slapping down upon her own leg, “live your life going forward using his memory to push you on, rather than letting his memory weigh you down.” The advice not something to take lightly, Carly offers the woman an accepting nod, agreeing to get herself used to living the way Kayla has suggested, a response that eases the woman’s mind. “I didn’t know it was this fucking bad” Chevy mutters beneath his breath, looking out at the charred forest that represents what remains of the leaderless-half of Los Angeles, the blackened environment proving to perfectly illustrate the dystopian existence they officially have no safety from. Freeing his arm from around Kayla’s back, Chevy rolls down the window and pulls himself through the opening, the moment the window begins rolling down allowing for a chorus of voices to scream out in the distance. “What the fuck is that!?” Kayla exclaims, the occupants of the car being met with the sounds of a crowd pleading for safety from the elements, something in the distance halting their path. Rolling down her own window, Carly pulls herself through the vantage point whilst Kayla pulls herself through the sunroof, her eyes widening as the sight presents itself to her. “Holy shit” Kayla mutters, their truck one of the few approaching the front gates of Los Angeles, where a massive sea of people stand at the points of entry, stopped from advancing further into the city by an assortment of armed forces, all of which defend the control line as if it were the decided-upon border. “Los Angeles Armed Convoy, clear the path!” Chevy shouts, the assault rifle draped over his neck held cautiously, his orders repeated by the crowd-controlling guards. “Clear the way!” the guards shout through megaphones, an overhead security light flashing in the direction of the returning convoy, those outside doing as instructed, safety afforded to them as long as they remain stationed within Los Angeles’ view. Crossing the border, Chevy’s convoy returns to Los Angeles, a few seconds to talk to the patrolling guards afforded to him on their way in. “What the hell is all of this!?” Chevy asks, the guard immediately answering to the best of his knowledge. “Refugees. They know we’re operating” the guard replies, breaking the news to Chevy’s convoy that Los Angeles has become the center of attention for the remnants of what once called itself the United States. | Entering the man’s room, Lazarus fixes the table, a large crack in the wood present from being hurled across the room by Jaime, Ryan remaining sat patiently, watching the tray of food reside in Lazarus’ hand. “She’s going to kill me, isn’t she?” Ryan asks, the large man carefully setting the tray of food upon the solid, wooden surface, brushing off the man’s question by telling him to enjoy the meal. “That’s it?” Ryan responds, watching Lazarus continue to talk away, not caring to stick around much longer than he already has, “you’re just going to brush me off?” With a sigh, Lazarus continues to walk, telling Ryan that he’d been well-trained to refuse to acknowledge those responsible for committing crimes. “I’ve been sitting in this room for eons, the least you can do is tell me whether or not I’m gonna die!” Ryan calls back, the large man still exiting the room. Rolling his eyes, Ryan slams his fist upon the plastic tray, his breathing unsteady and manic, his lip quivering as he hesitates to blurt out what he wishes to. Looking toward the bar-covered windows at the very top of the walls, Ryan’s inner conflict is bathed in the light of the Los Angeles sunset, a brief moment of courage coming over him, his deepest confession being blurted out in hopes of Lazarus’ attention. “It was the doctor!” Ryan exclaims, shaking his head as the toll of his fate mixes with his already-lengthy prison stay to create the perfect combination of conversation-deprived desperation. After a few seconds of silence, Ryan hears the door open, Lazarus returning to the confines and pressing his back against the door, refusing to leave the spot until he’s heard more. “Repeat that” Lazarus replies, both hands kept tightly holding onto the doorknob, a hesitant Ryan taking a few deep breaths before coming clean. “It was the doctor…” Ryan responds, unable to truly remember what they looked like or what their name was, “...the doctor bribed Justin to change the target from Jaime to Jordan.” Chin raised, Lazarus walks closer toward Ryan, the radio on his belt loop being raised to his lips, finger pressing down on the speaker button. “Kitchen, this is Lazarus Adams- acting head of security in the Morris Administration” the intimidating figure calls out, looking Ryan in the eyes, “please bring a collection of today’s specials to room 7701’.” Approved by the voice on the other end, Lazarus returns the radio to his side and tells Ryan to earn the upgrade in food quality he’s appeared to be worthy of. “I don’t care if you don’t know their name, do your best to try” Lazarus explains, only needing one specific name to warrant Ryan’s reward. Rolling his eyes, Ryan begins to wish he’d never spent most days high, the recollection struggling to come from him. “Taylor, Marsha?” Lazarus begins to read, trying to aid Ryan’s memory along, the man refusing both names, providing hope that the truth is exactly as it appears. “Nathan, Michael, Jennifer?” Lazarus continues, again, his offerings shot down. “Lou, Alison, Emilio?” Lazarus continues, again being met with refusal, another line of names offered finally proving valuable. “Kevin, Patricia, June” Lazarus continues, beginning to continue down the line until Ryan’s hand snaps at him, finger spinning in a counter-clockwise direction. “June?” Lazarus replies, watching Ryan begin to snap his fingers at himself, the name proving very similar. With a gasp, Ryan snaps one final time before looking at Lazarus, his eyes wide and mouth agape. “Julia!” he finally shouts, stumbling upon his answer, the moment her name leaves Lazarus’ lips, the large man breaks out into a smile, nodding his head as he stands from his seat. “Enjoy your meal, Ryan” he quips with an appreciative tone, leaving the man to wait for the kitchen to fulfill his end of the bargain. | Frantically walking the halls, Chris looks for one person in specific, every similar-looking figure catching his momentary attention, the pace in his steps suggesting something to be wrong. “Alex!” Chris shouts, finally turning the corner to find the woman he’d been looking for, his significant other immediately turning back, looking at him with an apologetic expression, a sight that Chris pays little attention to. “I’m sorry, I’ve been looking for Jaime all day, but I haven’t found he-” Alex begins, Chris immediately stopping her, the look of worry in his eyes catching her by surprise. “Alex… Listen to me, you need to go get Jaime right now” Chris explains, the woman looking to him at a loss for words. “What? Why, I-?” Alex responds, quickly interrupted again as Chris doubles down on his declaration. “Alex, I need you to listen to me…” Chris repeats, calming himself down by taking the woman’s shoulders into each hand, looking deep into her eyes, “...you need to go get Jaime… right now.” Unsure of what to say, Alex just looks back into the man’s eyes, the sorrow carried behind his stare immediately getting across the weight of the situation at hand. “What’s wrong?” Alex asks in a worried tone, the man just looking at her without the right words to say. Storming through the foyer of city hall, Alex pushes Jaime’s office door open to find a reunion gathering, both Chevy and Kayla having returned to Los Angeles, the group rounded out by Amelia, Kennedy, and Jaime, all joking together and having a cheerful time. “Mom! Chevy and Kayla just got back in!” Jaime exclaims with excitement, the mood of the room quickly standing still, the high-spirits waiting for the older woman to respond before getting underway again. Mouth open, Alex tries and ultimately fails to smile back at the returned couple, her eyes falling back onto Jaime, speechless as she shakes her head. “Mom, what’s going on?” Jaime says in an enthusiastic tone, still high off the emotions of the Colorado-couple’s return, her eyes quickly lowering the longer Alex stays silent, her smile slowly falling away. “Mom?” Jaime repeats, eyebrows beginning to furrow, face beginning to devolve into worry, “what’s going on?” On the verge of tears, Alex’s eyebrows rise as her head shake becomes more apparent, a tear running down her face as Jaime leaves her seat, still awaiting the woman’s response. “Jaime…” Alex begins, her voice weak, broken apart by sadness as she begins to openly sob, her daughter left without words, still waiting on her mother’s response. “...Jaime, I’m so sorry” Alex whimpers, the mood of the room having fully cratered. Charging through the hospital, Jaime leads the entire core of her innermost circle through the hallways just as Lazarus emerges, calling out for her attention. “Fuck off, Lazarus!” Jaime shouts, an anger and horror carried through her declaration, the woman storming past him as his hand is taken into Alex’s own, leading him toward their intended destination. Walking through the doorway, Jaime stops in her tracks, those behind her stopping in tune as they come upon the same endpoint. Face souring, Jaime stands in the doorway frozen, her hands trembling as she slowly emerges from a state of shock, carrying herself further into the room. Gasping for every breath she can manage to take in, Jaime drags herself closer to the bed in the very center of the room, a sole figure left lying beneath a soft, white blanket. Head tilting to the side as the tears leave her eyes at will, Jaime struggles to speak, her hand reaching out for the blanket, pulling it away from Jordan’s face. “Jord-” Jaime begins, her voice stopping itself before she can say his name, the task too much to bare, “...Jordan.” Uncovering his hand, Jaime interlocks her fingers with those of her fiance’s, crumbling beneath the pressure and collapsing at the man’s bedside, unable to hold herself back any longer. “I’m so sorry, Jaime” Chris mutters beneath his breath, a tear coming to his own eye, head shaking as the weight of the sight tugs at the empathetic strings of his heart. “How did this happen?” Chevy asks, enraged by the sight and demanding to know answers, “you said... “ he continues, stopping himself before he lashes out, “...you said he was getting better.” With a sigh, Chris explains that he was by all accounts of the vitals that had been taken. “At some point the machines started going insane, he stopped breathing, and we called a ‘code blue’” Chris explains, “we tried bringing him back for the next four minutes.” Watching Chevy’s head sink, Chris turns his explanation to the rest of the group, all of which actively express their grief at the sight. “After four minutes, he-” Chris continues, stopping to regain his bearings for a moment before concluding, “-he was pronounced dead at twelve past nine.” Head hung, Chris shakes his head in disappointment, leaving the room to allow those within to grieve. “I’m sorry for your loss” Chris murmurs, unable to hold himself together, the crumbling sight of the first circle feeling more painful than he’d anticipated. Rendered an emotional heap, Jaime silently bereaves the loss of her fiance, a looming dread hanging over everyone in the room, all taking their own moment to pay their respects. “Thanks for bringing us along, buddy” Kayla whimpers, her hand placed over Jordan’s heart as Chevy gives him a kiss on the forehead. “Thanks for saving my life, brother” the man mutters, Kennedy walking up close behind, taking Jordan’s hand into her own, passing her thoughts as the rest of the group follows, their key figure inconsolable on the floor Looking toward Jordan’s lifeless face and trying to find the words to speak with, Jaime’s head shakes before her face drops, nothing able to sum up what he meant to her. Offering silence, Jaime hangs her head and continues to cry, the rest of the group leaving the room to her, closing the door behind themselves. Looking back up at her fiance, Jaime holds the side of the man’s head, her thumb gliding gently across his cheek, back and forth. Trying to speak, Jaime keeps opening her mouth and failing to let her thoughts out, the privacy not solving her worries. “I’m so sorry” Jaime whimpers, leaning over the man’s bedside and resting her head upon his chest, her hand squeezing tightly upon his own, “I love you.” Her eyes finding Jordan’s face once more, Jaime thanks him for being the only thing to keep her going, refusing to believe she’d have made it this far on her own. “I’m so fucking scared” Jaime admits, her confession easy to come upon, her bereavement too overwhelming to be beaten, a somber groan prompting her head to fall back to the man’s chest. “I’m so… so fucking scared” she continues to mutter, wanting to wake up from what she can only pray to be a nightmare, the one fear she claims having now being met, her demons laying ahead, daring her to face them. == Dire == “And this is what you’re sold on?” a woman asks, looking away from the rambling-filled whiteboard to offer Chevy her attention, “not to sound condescending, but if this is a joke- I need to know.” Arms folded and head shaking, Chevy admits that he’s become convinced that remnants of the government remain, specifically intending to remain unseen and unheard, the reasons why being unclear.
“Listen, Eugene… I get that it might sound like the product of a loon, but it makes sense with what we’ve found” Chevy explains, the information offered lending his argument credence. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen something as outlandish as this make sense” Eugene retorts, his eyes glancing back and forth at each separate subject lined-through and circled, “if I’m being completely honest- I don’t really know how to react.” “You see crazy shit often?” Chevy asks, he and Eugene the only people in the room, the question offering him insight into his replacement’s backstory. “I was in the military for a number of years before becoming a geologist” Eugene recalls, the individuals he was stationed with always having their heads filled with curious, often irrational, suspicions, “very rarely would someone sound so crazy, yet still have enough reasonable sense to appear credible.” Giving the notes a nod, Eugene turns back to the newly-engaged man, a smile on his face, “you and your convoy appear to be very credible, Chevy.” Appreciative of the compliment, the departing leader approaches Eugene and shakes his hand, welcoming him to the complex. “I look forward to working with your men” his replacement replies, admittedly taking a liking to the man’s way of conducting himself, “if they were trained by you, I trust that I’ll be in good company.” Telling Chevy to return to his pregnant fiance, Eugene takes his attention to the evidence, a pile of a few loose notes beside the whiteboard left to be filled in as time is moved along. With a deep breath, Eugene takes the various documents and begins placing them in the vacant spots, answering questions yet to be answered. Setting aside a roll of tape, Eugene paints his evidence board in a complete set piece, one of his many guards entering the room a few minutes after Chevy leaves. “Are we almost ready?” the man calls out, the rifle draped over his back within inches reach from his arm, Eugene quick to tell him to hold off. “We don’t want to make any snap judgments” Eugene responds, telling the man to fetch him once Chevy and Kayla have officially left the compound. In agreement, the guard returns to the interior of the base, a completed Eugene staring out at an equally-completed puzzle, the dots connecting where they were meant to. Stopping at the sounds of their voice, Chevy and Kayla drop their bags to the ground as they approach their vehicle, Carly and Ben racing up to their sides. “Bidding us adieu?” Chevy jokes, their subordinates both pulling the couple in for a hug, wishing them luck on the impending wedding and eventual childbirth. “Thank you, I’m sure I’ll really need it in the delivery room” Chevy replies, receiving a joking smack to the back of his head by his better half, “see!? That’s why!” Amused, Chevy and Kayla load their bags into the car before Ben and Carly offer the pair the velcro-emblazoned flag of Los Angeles from their convoy gear, an offering of respect from the young duo. “Where’d you get these?” Chevy asks, he and his wife dressed in regular gear, the curious looks on Ben and Carly questioning what he means by the question. “They come with our suit, remember?” Ben responds, the response something that confuses Chevy, his eyes quickly venturing out to the fleet of newly-arrived guards, all without the same emblem. Not having noticed this fact, Ben and Carly look around the exit tunnel and find themselves equally lost, finding the basic camouflage dressed on the new convoy mates lacking the personality their own uniforms came with. Looking into his bag, Chevy pulls the closest shirt from the top of the pile, checking the sleeve to find the flag of Los Angeles left for his eye to uncover, the same truth found of Kayla’s clothing as well. “That’s weird” Carly quips, her statement only serving to add to Chevy’s suspicion, his eyes wandering back to the stationed guards having just arrived, not recognizing a single one of their names. “Kay, Carly, Ben- No matter what you do, don’t ask questions and just play along” Chevy replies, his suspicions having turned into worries, a change in his attitude present immediately. “Oh shit!” Chevy animatedly calls out, feigning a self-disappointment, Kayla immediately asking him what the problem is, “I forgot to let L.A. know we’re moving out!” Directing Carly, Ben and Kayla to different parts of the bunker, Chevy apologizes to the guards, promising to only take a moment. Dashing back into the reinforced station, Chevy tells the foursome to follow him closely, questions still being asked. “I’ve never met a single one of these people in my life” Chevy responds, the statement not something that should be heard from the man who’d been introduced to every member of the convoy Los Angeles had to offer. “They don’t have the emblem, that Eugene guy didn’t originally know my name, and this is a shitload of people” Chevy explains, “these aren’t our replacements.” Dashing into the communications department, Chevy apologizes to all involved, promising to only take a moment of their time. “We’re supposed to clear our departure with Los Angeles and I’m a fucking moron” Chevy explains, every guard having taken their place now looking toward him in confusion, “I promise, I’ll be out of your hair as soon as she gets back to us- which shouldn’t take long.” Waiting for the room to empty, Chevy closes the door and locks it tightly behind himself, hurrying toward the long-range radio and directing Ben to tap him back to Jaime. “Jaime, Los Angeles, anyone in the city, do you hear me? It’s Chevy Harrison” the man greets, pausing for a moment to allow for the signal to carry, a single voice returned before long. “This is Jaime, why aren’t you on the road?” the woman replies, the door left open for Chevy to answer. “Our replacements just arrived an hour ago. There’s a shitload of them, and they don’t have the L.A flag on their sleeves” Chevy explains, quickly addressing the gravity of the situation, “do you hear me?” Another brief moment passing, Chevy waits for the voice to call back, his worries confirmed the moment Jaime returns through the airwaves. “I sent twelve people to the bunker, Chevy” Jaime responds, the hearts of all four people in the room immediately sinking, “if there’s any more than that, we’ve got problems.” His head shaking, Chevy tells Jaime that a crew of roughly sixty people showed up at the front gates the moment the sun began to rise, another brief few seconds of silence filling the airways. “Chevy, just shut up and do what I say” Jaime explains, only demanding one thing in a stern voice, “run.” = 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 = “Are you sure about this!?” Ben wonders, his nerves beginning to set in, Chevy giving Kayla a nod before turning off the lights, a single punch to the glass lightbulb cutting her knuckle open, yet revealing the inner workings of the bulb. With the flip of a switch, the bulb turns on, its inner coil beginning to heat up, sparking a small electric fire. Shorting the electricity in the entire building, Chevy lifts a hard-cover book to the burning flame and tosses the collection of papers into the middle of the room. “Last I checked, that door is open- and now it stays open” Chevy explains, ensuring their way out remains for the world to use, his hopes of regaining control of the building away from the eyes of whichever group their replacements belong to at an all time low. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re all wearing non-slip shoes” Chevy explains, the one part of their gear other than their embroidered patch that their replacements can’t share. The sound of footsteps hurrying throughout the halls, Chevy and Kayla push their subordinates back against a wall, laying in wait for their opposition to arrive. Pushing open the entry, two replacement guards race into the room and look around for an extinguisher, each eating one bullet courtesy of the engaged couple. Tossing Ben and Carly the talkies kept on the guard’s bodies, Chevy and Kayla upgrade their weapons, leading the younger pair through the halls. Within seconds, the flames in the communications department set the carpeting on fire, a massive buildup of smoke prompting the sprinkler system to engage in combating the claims, the entire bunker soaked in water from above to create a chaotic environment. “Shoot anything without a flag on their arms!” Chevy and Kayla shout, watching their fellow convoy mates emerge from their rooms. As enemies emerge a few hallways away, Chevy and Kayla engage in a gunfight, Ben and Carly quick to offer cover fire. “I really wish Jaime trained us for this kind of shit!” Chevy shouts, Kayla quickly turning the group’s fortunes upside down. Reaching into her pocket, Kayla removes a smoke grenade she’d recovered from the prior guards’ bodies and tosses it in the direction of their foes, a massive cloud of smoke stopping the oncoming bullets from being fired. With a few blank shots into the distance, Chevy hears a single groan from beyond the rising debris, his wife quick to emerge from cover and aim her weapon. Pulling the trigger once, Kayla listens to a thud connect with the ground, giving her confidence in the shot itself. Dissipating, the clouds reveal the outline of the second guard beginning to hurry away from cover, a single bullet from Chevy finding the back of his neck and putting him down. Their fellow convoy mates engaging in gunfire behind, Chevy and Kayla begin to realize that their position does nothing but corner them, the enemies able to flank from both directions. “Ben, you get Kayla back to safety!” Chevy orders, intending to lead Carly further into the gunfight before his fiance argues against such a move. “My pregnancy doesn’t keep me from defending myself, Chevy… I’m not a damsel in distress!” Kayla calls back, looking into the concern in her fiance's eyes, his fear of what may lie ahead spoken through his expression alone, “I’ll be fine, just stay by me and we’ll take care of this.” Hesitant, Chevy finds himself unable to deny the woman her requests, the time to make decisions on her behalf never having appeared before, and still not doing so now. “Carly, Ben… Go lend support to the frontline” Chevy directs, telling them to return in Chevy’s direction when the entrance has been cleared, eyes falling back onto his wife as he approves of their advancement. “You and I until the end” Kayla says with a pep in her step, ready to defend the turf they’d worked so hard to make it to, a nod from Chevy leading the way forward. | “Get down!” Carly shouts, ordering their fellow mates to find the nearest cover, Ben quickly charging through the halls with a grenade in his hand, the explosive hurling through the air before tearing the oppositional forces apart. In a ground-rattling display, the young militants engage in return fire, dragging wounded men and women behind cover before returning shots at their aggressors. Rushing out of cover, one of the enemy components hurries from one barrier to another, a single shot splattering his brains against the ground, her first of three clips emptied. Offering the woman a thumbs up, Ben keeps his head ducked to avooid oncoming fire, the woman emerging with a strategy. Holding up one finger, Carly lowers one and raises the other, a silent line of communication presenting a risky approach. With a deep breath, Ben gives the woman a nod, emerging from cover briefly to take aim with his weapon, Carly quickly standing away from cover in an attempt to make herself visible. Goading one guard out of cover, Carly lets Ben’s shot rip through the air, tearing through the enemy’s throat and dropping him where he once stood. With a second shot, Ben does the same to another, the bullet ripping into the man’s chest cavity and refusing to exit through the other side. Kneeling down, Carly and Ben look back at the remnants of their fleet, the display offering the inexperienced, yet combat-ready convoy a strategy to depend on. From behind, the line continues, a worsening line of sight proving difficult to navigate, the decoys goading out the opposition despite the gunners consistently failing to connect with their shots. Shaking their heads, Ben and Carly look back to each other, another shrug offered as Ben emerges from cover, allowing Carly to quickly pick off a few of the intruders before returning to cover once more. “Aim lower than you think!” Carly calls back, the point being to disarm them first and foremost. “We’ll get it done!” Ben exclaims, a display of comfort offered to the woman he shares the front-most line of defense with. Flashing the man a smile, Carly nods her head, agreeing with Ben’s conclusion whilst their attention is set on continuing to stand ground. | Continuing to advance forward, Chevy and Kayla find themselves wandering a narrow corridor, a fleet of footsteps just ahead. Backing up, the couple occupy two sides of the hallway, resting against two columns on either side of the halls as the footsteps grow louder. With one nod to each other, Chevy and Kayla steady their breaths and hold their aim, allowing a line of enemies to dash past them, unaware of their presence. With ease, Kayla and Chevy pick off the line of backup seemingly directed toward the front, one body after another collapsing to the ground, weapons scattered and blood splattered against anything in the immediate walkway. “Do you two think you’re clever!?” a voice calls out from a few feet away, the person it belongs to hidden behind a column just as Chevy and Kayla are, his taunts intended to draw the pair out. “I guess that would depend, wouldn’t it?” Chevy replies, shaking his head as he emerges from cover, weapon drawn forward, awaiting the figure’s next move. “Depend on what?” the voice calls back, revealing the specific column he hides behind, Chevy’s lack of an answer prompting his curiosity to take over. Peering just around the edge of the wall, the figure notices Chevy’s progression toward him, the action he takes already too late as Chevy’s weapon fires a bullet through his skull before he can ever ready his aim. “You’d think people would be better at realizing how a two-on-one standoff works, but apparently not” Kayla jokes, the count Chevy’s done suggesting they only have a few members of the opposing force left to dispose of. Their strategic position forced out of their arsenal, Chevy and Kayla come across a four hallway intersection, three different paths to advance upon. “Oh shit, this is going to make me sound like the whitest person alive” Kayla admits, the statement immediately garnering Chevy’s undivided attention, “we should split up.” Adamant at first, Chevy is reminded by the woman that she can more than handle herself, appreciating his willingness to keep her safe, but refusing the need to be chaperoned. “We can be strong together, but we’ll still tear the world apart on our own” Kayla explains, the remaining forces presenting nothing they haven’t already overcome before, “divide and conquer, meet back where the routes reconnect, and continue from there.” Struggling to convince himself to agree, Chevy begins to shake his head before a wet-haired Kayla pulls him in for a kiss, an alternative to kissing in the rain proving less than stellar, though a fair alternative nonetheless. “We’ll reconvene where the paths cross, I promise” Kayla vows, a second kiss from Chevy giving her his approval, their feet carrying them in opposite directions, Kayla’s to the right, whilst Chevy’s take to the left. | Continuing to goade the frontline out into the open, Ben and Carly allow one militant to slip through the cracks, the guard diving into the car stationed just beyond the tunnel entry and powering the engine on. Putting the vehicle in reverse, the slippery aggressor begins to set his warpath upon Ben and Carly, a last minute miracle called out by one of the convoy mates at the very back of the pack. “Grenade!” one of the allies shouts, prompting Ben to emerge from cover to find an explosive shell hurling through the air, a moment of utter improvisation solidifying Ben’s place in the convoy. Lifting his barrel toward the grenade, Ben waits a few short beats as he allows the explosive to draw nearer, its trajectory beginning to line up with the reversing vehicle perfectly. “Get back!” Ben shouts, the razor-sharp instincts of the men and woman behind him allowing his orders to be followed at the drop of a hat. With one tug of the trigger, Ben lets a bullet whip through the air and pierce the flying explosive, a sudden blast violently throwing him across the room as the vehicle bursts into flames amidst the blast. Shouting for the man’s name, Carly drags Ben away from the scene, the explosion having rocked the immediate surroundings, rupturing the eardrums of those stationed within the tunnel. “Advance!” Carly shouts back to the remnants of her fleet, the wounded opposition disarmed and in violent pain, sitting ducks for those having claimed the base first, bullets whipping through the entrance in defense of Los Angeles. Lugging the man’s prone body into the nearest shelter, Carly notices the man’s lack of consciousness, his unresponsive presence to the calling of his own name giving her the worst feeling. Lowering her heart to the man’s chest, Carly fails to hear for a heartbeat as a breath fails to leave his flesh-burned face. Refusing to let this be the man’s swan song, Carly does all that she can to revive her young brother in arms, dropping him from her lap and beginning to issue CPR. “Come on you son of a bitch, don’t give up on me now!” Carly exclaims, slapping the man on the side of the face in hopes of it delivering what her attempts fail to offer. “Fuck, come on Ben! Wake the fuck up, man!” Carly shouts, continuing to put her heart into bringing the man back from the dead. Wailing down on the man’s chest, Carly resorts to beating Ben’s heart into functionality, the failure of this display proving the final nail in the metaphorical and literal coffin. Her final punch falling short of her mark, Carly looks into the whites of Ben’s eyes and feels her soul leave, the man’s actions having saved his people in return for the sacrifice of his own life. “I’m so sorry, Ben” Carly whimpers, placing her head against the man’s chest and closing his eyelids, wishing for him not to see any more cruelty in the world than what he already has. Looking up toward the heavens, Carly stares out in defeat as her convoy returns, quickly taking note of Ben’s body lying lifeless beside her. “Take him out of here. Get him somewhere safe” Carly orders, patting the man’s body on the shoulder as two convoy mates reach down to carry him away. “The rest of you- with me” Carly exclaims, pushing herself up, the responsibility of the group’s survival lying on her shoulders, “we’re not done here. Not yet.” | The power beginning to shorten throughout the entire bunker, Kayla and her wet strands of hair strut confidently through the corridors, a rifle in her hands and her eyes peeled for movement. Stepping within a pool of water gathering throughout the bunker, Kayla takes aim at the sight of a guard emerging from the other end of the hall, a single shot sent ripping through his skull, corpse dropping dead, face buried in the ankle-deep accumulation of water. “You picked the wrong motherfuckers today!” Kayla exclaims, the hallway periodically being entrenched in darkness, the fuse shorting out, threatening to submerge the bunker in a permanent darkness. Taking aim, Kayla sends another shot at the depths of the hallway, the sight of a flashlight in the distance noting the presence of another militant. With another bullet, Kayla puts down a second guard, promising a never-ending supply of death for anyone who dares to challenge her. Finally giving out, the final ounce of power the building has disappears, entrenching the woman in nothingness, her pace never giving up. Reaching beneath the surface, Kayla retrieves a flashlight from the ground and places it between her teeth, shining a light she refuses to let die. With another pull of the trigger, Kayla rounds a corner and puts a militant down on the spot, a second shot resulting in the same outcome. Emptying her clip, Kayla reaches into the waves and feels around a corpse for a second magazine, her weapon ready to fire once more with no end in sight. The water level now rising to her calves, Kayla continues to push forward, one shot after another creating a massacre that she alone is responsible for, one body falling after another, the fatal shots never once ceasing. In the heat of the moment, Kayla continues to fire off, one shot after another littering the flooded floors with bodies as the water quickly rises to an unsalvageable degree. Continuing to advance forward, Kayla turns one corner and takes aim at another flashlight-wielding figure, her hesitancy to pull the trigger proving to reward her. “Good to see you again, honey” Chevy exclaims, the woman removing the flashlight from her mouth and holding it by her hip. “Is it bad that I enjoyed that?” Kayla asks, the tilting of Chevy’s head not offering much of an answer, his glance back at the corpse he leads by a chain suggesting worse things could be possible. “I’m not really in the position to fault you for that” Chevy responds, the pair stood directly beneath one of the sprinklers, the water having reached such a level that the corpse Chevy drags behind him is nearly submerged. “I think we have one stop left to make” Kayla replies, a fistbump with her life partner preceding their advancement down the final corridor, their sights set on holding those guilty of this chaos accountable for their actions. Turning into the final room left unaccounted for, Chevy and Kayla find Eugene standing behind his desk, the surprise on his face of seeing the man he’d wished well on his way out prompting him to reach for his gun. Refusing to afford the man a chance, Kayla lets a single bullet pierce through the man’s chest, the weapon falling from his hand as he stumbles into the whiteboard, sliding to the ground, a trail of blood left behind. Weapons still drawn, Chevy and Kayla approach the mysterious man, the woman’s gun kept aimed toward his head as Chevy points to the documents taped to the board, realizing the puzzle to have been completed by the one he left in charge. Connecting the dots and drawing the lines, Chevy quickly comes to realize exactly who Eugene is, the mortally-wounded former geologist groaning in pain on the ground. “You did all of this” Chevy exclaims, looking down at the man, who continues to look forward, his eyes resting upon the pitch black depths of the room, short of breath as his punctured lung leaves him unable to breath to his fullest extent. “I was a cog in the machine” Eugene responds, his words coming out with a whimper, the life slowly leaving his body as he owns up to his wrongdoings. “I was told to direct the president to this bunker, and I knew exactly what would happen- but I did it anyway” Eugene explains, Chevy looking back to the connections made, one chat log stained with his victim’s own blood, the command given to authorize total annihilation of government officials. “We’d all be tried for crimes against humanity if we were ever found out” Eugene explains, cracking a smile, his blood-covered white teeth presented to the engaged couple, “the command took care of any stragglers we hadn’t gotten to before.” Turning toward his fiance, Chevy mutters Django Wenton’s name, the woman realizing there have been many more to suffer a fate just like him. “Who are the people in Hawaii?” Chevy asks, his eyes returning to the refugee camp left largely unchanged by Eugene, “what do they want from us?” With a chuckle, Eugene looks up to Chevy, the imposing figure’s face illuminated by his fiance’s flashlight. “They wanted this” Eugene replies, the bunker being the main pull of this operation since the minute it went into effect, “everything about this place contained power, and you stole it.” Shaking his head, Chevy leans down and digs his thumb into Eugene’s bullet wound, repeating his first question once more, expecting an answer. Grimacing, the wounded turns away from Chevy until his face is pulled back, the man making sure the older conspirator looks him in the eyes. “Who are the people in Hawaii?” Chevy asks again, watching Eugene lean in close, “WE ARE the people from Hawaii” he responds, the answer doing enough to surprise the couple, who are left with little to say. “We came back to pick up the society people like you let fall into chaos” Eugene explains, his position having become the highest-rank following the death of his supervisor, “and you pieces or garbage just killed the nation.” With a scowl, Chevy recognizes the man he finds sat in a consistently-rising pool of water to be the final official of a dead nation left standing, a call to action being declared in his mind. “No, we didn’t” Chevy replies, looking up to his fiance with a proud smile before his eyes fall back onto Eugene, “-we made a new one.” Shaking his head, Eugene refuses to acknowledge Chevy as anything other than a traitor to lady liberty, the ire that radiates from the face of the father-to-be speaking volumes. “I’m sorry to do this, Eugene” Chevy explains, the statement bringing a sudden fear over the wounded man’s eyes as he leans in close to whisper his good-byes. “God bless the Angelino Republic” Chevy mutters, reaching his hand around the back of Eugene’s head, the wide eyes of the older man staring directly into Chevy’s own, “-and may the sun shine over its new beginning” In an act of defiance, Chevy shoves Eugene’s face beneath the surface of the water, a brief struggle ensuing as the domestic terrorist struggles for air beneath the merciless waves of death. “May lady liberty and her corrupt self die with you” Chevy exclaims, the struggle quickly fading, “-and may her death be as cold as the freedom she rendered a broken vow.” Within seconds, Eugene stops fighting, his arms going limp as his fight drowns with him. Removing his hands from the surface, Chevy leaves Eugene to rest within his watery grave, Carly quickly leading the remnants of her convoy toward the couple. Catching his breath, Chevy stands and turns back toward Carly, looking the woman in the eyes as the water continues to pool into the bunker. “Is it over?” Carly asks, an eerie silence falling over what remains of Chevy’s group, a quick glance toward Eugene’s floating corpse giving him the certainty he needs to offer a definitive answer. “Yeah” Chevy responds, looking to his fiance and wrapping his arm around her, pulling her close and holding her tightly, hopeful eyes returned to his remaining fleet, “it is” == Dire == |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. Archives
May 2023
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