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