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Season 4 Finale
“Ladies and gentlemen of the Angelino Republic” a voice unfamiliar to many citizens remarks through the radio waves, speaking to them from a place of absolute control, “you answer to a higher power now.” Armed and large in numbers, the peacekeepers follow Julia through the heart of the Republic, their collective path taking them to the steps of city hall, which she prepares to make her first public address from. “Late this evening, Chancellor Morris was deposed by the peacekeepers and the Angelino Republic on my orders” she proceeds, having stepped through the front doors of a mostly-absent city hall. “As of this moment, I am your chancellor” the woman continues, marching through the front corridor with her eyes set on the final prize, a date with the chair she’d waited so long to claim for herself nearing with every step. Her wrists tied with rope, Jaime is led by the pull of her once-trusted militia into the lower sanctum of city hall, the moonlight that comes over what was once her Republic now replaced in favour of a dark, menacing corridor she knows all too well. “I will go further into detail soon, but for now- you only need to know that change is in the air” Julia remarks further, one foot in front of the other soon carrying her into the welcoming embrace of the chancellor’s office. Neither anger, nor fear held within the look on the deposed leader’s face, Jaime follows the lead of her turncoat militia through the lengthy path toward the dungeon, where only distant shouts from Chevy can be heard being spouted off in defiance. “Tonight marks a new era for the Angelino Republic, one I’d like to formally invite our New Democratic Front leaders to join me in speaking about” Julia advances, letting her fingers graze the leather-covered armrests of the Republic’s highest chair. “This isn’t gonna go the way you want it to!” Chevy proclaims, pointing his finger in the faces of the emotionless guards that oversee his imprisonment, one Jaime can see as she’s led past him and further onward. “Until we speak again, let me make myself perfectly clear-” Julia continues, her lips pressing close to the mic that sits atop the podium she speaks from, her inaugural address made only once she’d been allowed to make herself at home in her new role. “We’ll come out on top, Chevy” Jaime calls out, not resisting the guidance of those that lead her further through the dungeon’s depths, the look of scorn worn over her visage at the armed men that surround her. “-I will not have division” Julia continues on, her past hour having seen her finally sink into the seat of chancellor before addressing the nation, where she stands from atop the hall she controls- speaking to those she holds much the same power over. “This nation has been fractured into two sides, and I will not allow that to continue” Julia explains, her finger pressed to the podium as a large gathering only continues to grow in size below her. “This is not about the peacekeepers or the Angelino’s, it’s about both” she progresses, playing directly from the opposite hand she’d fed the previous chancellor insight from, “we are one republic, we are one people, and we will be united.” Her scowl only intensifying, Jaime finds her stride redirected toward one specific room, its door already open and waiting for her arrival. “May glory befall the Republic...” Julia concludes, those that gather at the steps of city hall unsure for the most part over what exactly the future now holds for them and their proud nation, whilst their chancellor is entered into her undisclosed room in the dungeons just below their feet “...or may she fall defiant forevermore.” Slammed shut, the interrogation room’s door locks from the outside with the once-mighty leader locked within, her wrists still bound as she stands at attention, looking into the room with an intense look of bitter hatred. “Look familiar?” Julia wonders aloud, sat in the seat Jaime’s victims had once been forced to be seated upon, her feet kicked atop the table as her introduction to the new world is set in the rear view mirror. In silence, Jaime’s nostrils flare whilst she remains standing at the front of the room, her might nothing more than a memory as she’s confronted with the consequences of her less-fortunate calls. “This was the room you had Ryan in for all that time, right?” Julia inquires, her hands coupled atop her lap as she looks to the former chancellor with a smirk, the title stripped away and placed upon her as if it were a crown. Still silent, Jaime continues to stare at the woman with a blind rage, seething through her scowl as the Republic’s new leader throws her feet off the table, rising from her chair as both hands hang by each side. “Quite a turn of events, isn’t it?” the doctor-turned-chancellor asks aloud, her question left unanswered in the scathing reply she earns from her now bitter rival. “You played me” Jaime remarks in a near-whisper, her low-toned growl preceding the chuckle that the woman across from her replies with. “Like a fiddle, some would say” Julia jokes, slowly rounding the table as the tip of her finger slides against its surface. “And you think this is funny?” the prisoner challenges, her curiosity only building as the new leader nods in satisfaction. “Very much, yes” Julia responds, her smile so wide that her pearly white teeth fail to be hidden behind her lips even a centimetre. “What I find even funnier is how I managed to get away with it” the new chancellor proclaims, resting her hip against the table as she looks toward the ceiling, basking in her recollection whilst Jaime stands idly-by, just listening to the woman’s remarks with little other option. “When the world goes to shit, some things like medicine become really hot commodities like that” the woman remarks with the snap of her fingers, continuing to smile wide toward her defeated foe, “food, water, support, weapons- the whole nine yards. Whatever I wanted and more- I just got it.” Hanging her head, Jaime struggles to keep from blaming herself for having allowed the monster that stands before her to grow over such a long amount of time, though her company doesn’t regret it for a moment. “When you study for years to become a doctor, it isn’t really difficult to justify playing the long game when things are really important” Julia explains, her left hand in the pocket along the hip that doesn’t press to the table, “the slower the power gained- the less it’s noticed.” “And I never saw it coming” Jaime mutters beneath her breath, though the room is too silent for the words not to be caught by her now-superior’s ear. “No, you didn’t. Not until now. But- maybe if you were smarter- you would’ve been able to pick up on it” Julia chirps in, regaining the eyesight of her enemy’s hung head through peering eyes, “I was the architect behind your demise- the devil on your shoulder. Slowly, but surely- I broke you for the whole world to watch.” Snarling, Jaime turns her face to a blank wall at the back of the room, shaking her head in dissatisfaction at herself whilst Julia watches on, revelling in the other woman’s self-pity. “So, I assume the push pit the peacekeepers and the people against each other was just a way for you to switch notes, huh?” the restrained survivor wonders aloud, second-guessing every decision she’d made since coming to power, incapable of letting any choice be left out of question. “The NDF wants unity, so here I am to give it to them” Julia replies, allowing her bested adversary to continue down the self-reflective road of second-thoughts. “And it was you supplying the peacekeepers with rations, wasn’t it?” Jaime proceeds, catching a glimpse of the chancellor’s smirk before questioning one specific aspect, “for how long?” Lowering her eyes, Julia nods her head in jubilation as Jaime waits for an answer, a subtle anger beginning to settle in with the conquered nemesis the longer her visitor chuckles. “How long!?” she shouts aloud, not waiting for anything longer than a second before receiving her answer, the victorious party in the conversation pulling her head up with an eyebrow raised and a smug look of confidence on her face. “Who do you think gave Ryan his target all that time ago?” Julia wonders aloud, purposefully speaking in vague tongue as Jaime’s face begins to settle into a more relaxed expression, though the anger that simmers deep within her begins to funnel over the edge. “I needed Jordan in that hospital bed somehow” the chancellor continues, shrugging her shoulders as her personal justifications toward the action become clear, “-you’re a tough cookie. I had to crack you somehow.” With her fists clenched, Jaime prepares to sprint across the room in lieu of security’s absence before the door bursts open, both Chevy and Kayla shoved into the room to join their trusted friend as a pair of men step inside with pistols drawn. Passing a look to each other, the trio all recognise the situation that appears to be unfolding, Chevy’s arm wrapped around Kayla as he holds her tight. Her blinding rage beginning to subside for the greater good, Jaime takes command of her emotions and regains her composure, turning her chin in the blonde woman’s direction. “So- this is it?” the woman inquires, daring the chancellor to explain what her plans hold for the deposed inner circle, “take us where no one will look? Away from everybody to watch so you can execute us before it’s too late?” Lowering her eyebrows, Julia shakes her head with amusement as the guard closest to her hands a pistol to his superior. “No, I’m gonna proposition you” the chancellor replies, looking Jaime in the eyes as she takes aim of the weapon toward the expecting parents, Chevy instantly stepping in front of Kayla to take the brunt of whatever shot appears to be within his future. “To make this transfer of power as peaceful as possible, I want the public to know that this isn’t a sham government I’m putting in place” Julia replies, resting her finger on the trigger as Chevy stares at her defiantly. “You can stand on your morals, refuse my offer and let me kill your friends here before they even get to meet their little one, or you can comply with it-” the chancellor continues on, “join me in a public address, concede power to me, and face a fair trial in a few days.” Scoffing at the notion, Jaime turns her face away as she begins to laugh, “there’s no such thing as a fair trial here, and we both know it.” Letting her chin hang, Julia shrugs in agreement and returns her sights to her predecessor. “No, I’ll still probably kill you- but you’ll at least get a chance to make your case to the people” the chancellor confesses, shaking the weapon she wields at the couple, “I actually don’t mind these two though, so I’d be fine exiling them instead.” With a grimace, Chevy stares at Julia with a refusal to back down in the face of fear, only to find his well-respected friend turn toward him through the corner of his eye. “It sounds like it doesn’t end well for me regardless” Jaime admits to the man, shrugging her shoulders as not even a modicum of fear is presented in her eyes, which soon drift back to the woman that holds the dialogue’s power within the sight of her firearm, “if you let Chevy and Kayla go, I’ll say whatever you want.” “That’s not how this works” Julia replies with amusement, only for the former chancellor to double down. “You’ve got me at gunpoint simply because I couldn’t trust a word you’ve said to me for as long as I’ve known you. If you want me to take this offer seriously- prove you’re not lying now” Jaime retorts, throwing her hands out as the offer is left standing, “if you’re gonna exile them, do it now so I know you’re not bluffing and I’ll do whatever you want me to.” Parting her lips to reply, Julia soon finds herself coming silent, passing a glance toward the pair she holds her weapon toward before a sudden thought dawns upon her. “Y’know, I was going to pull the ‘I make the rules card’ on you, but I guess becoming the chancellor means there are some things I have to start learning” the woman explains, “I’m not bluffing, and it’s pointless to pretend like I could be.” Lowering her weapon from the couple, Julia nods her head in the former chancellor’s direction, opening the floor for her answer, “accept the offer and I’ll let them walk before sunrise.” “Jaime” Chevy hisses, his plea for her attention brushed aside as the deposed chancellor’s mind had already been made up. “The only person she wants is me, Chevy. Neither of you need to be caught up in this mess anyways- it’s one I made, and one I made alone” Jaime retorts, turning her attention back to the new chancellor of her Republic, “besides, the only reason she wants to kill me is ‘cause she knows that if she doesn’t- I’ll kill her.” Pressing together as they move toward the side of her face, Julia’s lips join the rest of her face in forming a humoured grin, one that only strengthens as Jaime takes a step forward, presenting the woman with her bound wrists. “I accept” the woman assures, letting Julia wrap her free hand around the rope that acts as a leash for the new chancellor to lead her by. “May glory befall the Angelino Republic” Julia responds, taking the rope into her grasp just as she had the armrests on the chancellor’s seat earlier in the night. “Or may it fall defiant forevermore” the new chancellor sighs as she sinks into the comfort of the seat’s leather upholstery, both arms resting against each of the chair’s sides. Just behind her, the window overlooking a bright downtown L.A skyline is presented through parted curtains, where a face pokes out from hiding behind. = 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 = With her arms crossed, Jaime sits in the chair opposite her own desk, its control now seized by the acting chancellor, who continues her end of the conference call with a perpetual smile whilst her prisoner of war waits with a gagged mouth. “What are you asking me for, Ms. Avallone?” Wade inquires from the other end of the line, his scepticism of the woman he speaks to far greater than the one that sits across from her. “I’m asking you to keep an open mind” Julia responds, leaning back in her seat whilst the deposed leader watches on, incapable of interjecting even if she wanted to. “You bartered with a woman that was not going to let you take Los Angeles without a fight. She got rid of the old mayor, and she would’ve found a way to make you hurt if war was waged” the chancellor continues, “if you were willing to do a deal with her, you should be willing to do a deal with someone more cooperative too.” “Even if you are cooperative, there are still two things about you- amongst many others- that concern me” Wade replies, treating the revolutionary with kid gloves as the situation seems to call for, “I don’t know that I can trust you, and I don’t know that you can keep the people from revolting.” “They’ll only revolt if they can’t put food on their plates” Julia counters, crossing one leg over the other as she stares into the distance, “make sure they’re fat and happy and they’ll be tickled pink to keep whatever the status quo is going.” With an audible sigh, Wade collects himself on the other end of the line, speaking to a nearby acquaintance too far from the phone for his voice to be heard. “That’s the easier of the two issues I’ve got at hand to deal with you on” Wade replies, lowering his tone to a more approachable level, “you’ve got this chair of power- temporary, of course- because you played Ms. Morris like a fool.” “And of course, how could you possibly trust someone like me?” Julia continues, finishing the man’s question upon his behalf, “that’s what you were going to ask, wasn’t it?” Silent on the other end, Wade let's dead air fill his end of the call as the chancellor takes it upon herself to explain his worries away, already feeling the leverage stack higher in her favour. “The only reason Jaime came to power is because there was a vacuum left by the old government. Her face was a good one to plaster all over the aftermath” Julia remarks, presenting herself as the lenient and less-stoic alternative. “I’m much more affable, much less attached to this Republic, and much more persuasive when it comes to shiny things” the new chancellor confesses, painting her administration out to be perfectly malleable, “I can be bought- unlike her.” “And why do you think that makes me any more confident in what your administration can take on?” Wade challenges, sitting back in his seat from his luxury complex in greater downtown Los Angeles. “Ms. Morris is a natural born leader. Perhaps she’s much more difficult to get what I want out of, I’ll give you that- but I know she’s capable of keeping the other side of the fence afloat without me constantly looking over her shoulder” the NDF leader continues, “what makes you better?” “Because there aren’t disputes to settle when no one’s trying to fight each other, you idiot” Julia cuts back, rerouting back to her initial point whilst the former leader watches on, disgusted at the discussion she watches unfold. “You don’t need a leader, you just need someone to be around to mediate the little strifes a bunch of tubby, mouth-breathing pigs take on in between bites” the chancellor proclaims, “I’m just a puppet to your regime. That’s what you get, and it’s all you need.” “Why wouldn’t Ms. Morris have been able to do that if it was as easy as you make it out to be?” Wade refutes, “I don’t need to know you in order to realise how capable she was on her own.” With a nod, the woman refuses to disagree with the man’s line of thought, sensing their conversation leading to a more fruitful outcome. “Because I have the favour of the peacekeepers. I hold the balance Jaime never did” Julia replies, “I’ve put both sides back together again.” “Sure, but for how long?” Wade inquires, continuing to challenge the woman he has yet to decide whether or not to allow the retainment of power in. “As long as you keep those rations pouring in and we’ve got a surplus going, they’ll be happy to jump whenever I say so” Julia responds, laying down her end of the agreement, “you seem to underestimate how cooperative the people are willing to be as long as you’re keeping them fed. I don’t.” Met with dead air from the other end of the line once more, Julia waits for the NDF’s leader to project his voice yet again, the sigh that precedes the man’s response catching the woman’s ear. “You still haven’t told me how I can trust you as a colleague” Wade replies, doubling down on his need to know exactly what kind of person he’s bartering for control with, “if the people are cooperative as long as they’re being fed- what makes you cooperative?” With a smile from ear to ear, Julia’s eyes dart to the restrained figure sat across from her, the vengeful eyes of her deposed enemy holding steady upon her without wavering. “The fact that I’m willing to cut bait and run for the right price” the chancellor responds, flashing the woman a smirk as she continues down her line of thought. “One thing I’ll give Jaime is that she’s one tough bitch when it comes to getting something done. As far as this Republic is concerned- it’s the second love of her life” Julia explains, “you may think war with her will be something you can walk away from, but it’s not. If you go to war with Jaime, you will lose and the city will burn.” Pausing for a moment to regain her grin, Julia takes on a softer tone as she sinks further into the seat, eyes drifting to the clutter-filled desk she sits in as her curtains begin to shift. “I, on the other hand, don’t need anything more than a few concessions to be willing to leave the Republic in the right hands” she continues, unaware of the rustling that goes on behind her whilst the former chancellor takes a slight notice. “I’m just here so you can lay some roots down. Get the people antiquated with the NDF, make them trust you, and then phase me out and let it mould together with the rest of your strongholds” Julia remarks, picturing the Republic’s future from her very seat, “set me up with a cosy beach house in Hawai’i, maybe a few little perks to make me comfortable and- when the time comes- I’ll be on my merry way.” Keeping her expression entirely under wraps, Jaime maintains her sight on the chancellor whilst the goings on occur away from sight, not wanting to draw any more attention than what’s already warranted. Silently considering his options and weighing the possible benefits, Wade comes to a final conclusion, “I’ll be there in ten minutes” he replies, hanging up the call without a departing gesture before Julia does the same, both eyes returning to the foe across from her. “I think I’m getting pretty used to this j-” Julia begins to remark, her pleased expression turning to one of surprise at the sound of a barrel pressing to the back of her head. “I wouldn’t get too comfortable with it if I were you” Alex interjects, standing in control of the weapon as her daughter watches on, unable to intervene in the chance that things take a turn for the worst. Raising both of her hands, Julia slowly turns her chair and leaves the seat, looking Alex in the eyes as she’s caught without a lifeline to reach out for, overpowered in both the numbers game and in firepower. “All I need to do is yell and security will have you dead on the spot” the chancellor replies, watching the mother keep aim on her weapon as she rounds the desk, pulling the gag from Jaime’s mouth whilst keeping the woman responsible for it in sight. “I only need one shot to kill you” Alex replies, unphased by the chancellor’s threats. Frantically fighting against her restraints, Jaime slowly removes the ropes that dig into her skin from over her wrists, reclaiming the firearm that her mother graciously bestows upon her. “Well whatever you came here for- you’re too late” Julia responds, a fact that both women already realise, “there’ll be an uprising from the peacekeepers if you try anything.” “I’ve gotten rid of plenty already, what’ll a few more change?” Jaime replies, kept from speaking further by the gesture of her mother’s hand, one that keeps her from continuing on. “The fact that you can’t govern anymore. The militia is against you, the peacekeepers are against you, and I doubt being overthrown would look good on Wade’s gradebook” Julia proceeds, “killing me won’t change anything. If the guards outside don’t kill you right after, the whole Republic will be searching for you.” Resting her finger against the trigger, Jaime plays with the doctor’s fate and weighs her options, thinking quietly to herself before the sound of her mother’s voice rings in. “She’s right, Jaime” Alex remarks, the disheartened look on the former chancellor’s face implying that she already knows such a thing is true, “you’ve lost the people. We’re better off making a run for it now than leaving Kennedy and the rest on their own and getting shot down here.” With her chin leant toward her mother’s direction, Jaime’s eyes fall to the ground as the weapon steadies in her grasp, the call left for her to make, but the consequences to be suffered by everyone she knows. With a deep breath, the former chancellor makes her call, nudging her chin toward the office’s door. “Chevy and Kayla are still in the dungeons. With the crowd that’s gathering outside, I doubt she’s got many people looking after them” the armed woman proclaims. “Then we’ll head there and take one of the exits out” Alex replies, starting for the door as her daughter follows, her aim on the weapon kept as she marches closer toward the door, not yet having finished saying her peace toward her unwanted successor. “Until the day comes, I hope you wonder to yourself whether all of this was worth it-” Jaime explains, slowly lowering the weapon to her hip as she provides Julia with a few departing words, “-‘cause when the day comes, I’ll kill you.” With as much tenacity as she’d uttered the final line with, Jaime bursts through the door and sprints off by her mother’s side, leaving an aggravated Julia behind to seethe on her own, thwarted in her attempt of nipping the problem in the bud before it can grow beyond control. With the air settling, the chancellor hears the sound of a massive crowd gathering at the steps of city hall, the call for her presence that she’d been dreaming of since the catalyst finally meeting her ear. | Cradling his wife in his arms as her head rests atop his shoulder, Chevy plasters his eye on the cold, lonely room’s entrance, his mind unable to refuse the feeling that something isn’t right. “Is this one of those times where I should worry about whether or not we’re gonna get out of this?” Kayla wonders aloud softly, her eyes closed as one arm rests behind her husband’s back, the other laying upon the small bump that her stomach presents. “We’re gonna be fine, honey” Chevy responds, his confident tone met with immediate uncertainty, though he doesn’t know it at first. “I don’t want reassurance,” Kayla replies, gently pulling her head away from the man’s shoulder to look him in the eyes, their faces meeting each other casually, “I want you to be honest.” Though his eyes hold love for the woman they meet, the man’s heart holds room for something else, an uncertainty as strong as the one his soulmate’s had been. “I-” Chevy murmurs, pausing to look deep into the woman’s eyes, his hand moving to rest on the side of her face, its touch prompting her eyes to shut tightly, a single tear squeezing out from the narrow part between each lid, “I’m not sure.” For a moment, the air grows still before a knock interrupts their moment together, its succeeding moment allowing a guard with his head hung to enter the room, closing the door slowly on his way inside. With both hands grasping the knob that his back now presses against, the guard stands in silence for a moment as the couple look to him with differing emotions, the woman’s face wearing a hopeful optimism whilst her husband’s wears a concerned scepticism. Pressing his bottom lip between his teeth, the guard lets one hand fall from the door’s entrance whilst the other takes a moment to remain concealed, only returning to sight with a firearm in tow. “Get on your knees” the militant murmurs beneath his breath, horrified to have to demand such a response from those he’s tasked with confronting, though it’s no match for the level of disgust he feels with the act he’s been demanded to follow through with. Losing her last shred of hope, Kayla’s latch on her husband tightens whilst Chevy’s follows much the same path, his lips parting without a pause. “What happened to being let free at sunrise?” the man inquires, knowing what’s come of the answer, only to demand the armed man reply for himself. “Just get on your knees, man” the guard replies, shaking his head as Chevy slowly stands, his wife rising just as he does without losing her grip even the slightest amount. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be” the executioner doubles down, his grasp tightening on the firearm as the man begins to stand, “you don’t have to feel a thing.” With his lip curling, Chevy tightens his hold on the woman he now steps in front of, standing guard for his wife until he no longer can. “Chevy” Kayla whispers, pulling the man’s attention back toward her as the end nears, their luck having run out just as the tide began to change for the Republic they helped build. Placing her hand against the man’s cheek, Kayla presses her eyes shut and leans her head against her husband’s, letting a silence run over the room as she refuses to prolong the inevitable. “Let’s not waste what little time we have left” the woman pleads in a hushed tone, too tired from the war to exhaust her final breaths away from the man she loves, his awestruck inability to utter a word unintentionally giving the woman her final wish. “We can still get out of this” Chevy whispers back, pressing his lips to the woman’s head whilst the guard watches on, his stomach turning as he falls sickened at having to fulfil his chancellor’s wretched demands. “I don’t want to spend our last seconds fighting for nothing” Kayla replies, calming her breaths as she cradles her baby bump with one hand, her husband’s face with the other, “this is where it ends.” His lip quivering, Chevy peers over his shoulder to the man prepared to deliver their final sentencing, listening to a knock come through the two way glass. “Please just hurry up” the humane guard requests, his rapid breathing making it clear that he wishes for nothing more than not having to carry out this merciless deed. Opening his mouth, Kayla’s husband prepares to speak back to their executioner before her hand pulls his face back, their eyes locking again as their lips soon meet. Sharing their love over just a few seconds, the couple’s lips pull apart as their foreheads reconnect, both sets of eyes closed as their breaths intermingle, a slow acceptance coming over them at once. “We lived a good life together...” Kayla whispers, her voice the only thing Chevy wishes to hear as their curtain call draws near, “...they’ll never get to take that away from us.” Slamming his fist against the bulletproof window, the guard on the outside demands of his much younger acquaintance to handle business as demanded of, presenting the standby guard with little option other than to progress with the demands. “A good life it was...” Chevy whispers back, his breaths becoming heavy as the man his back is turned toward steps forward, the gun lifting toward the back of his head, prompting him to finish the thought before it’s too late, “...and still is.” Playing the protege for a fool, Chevy breaks free from his wife’s embrace and strikes the young militant across the face, the guard toppling into the wall as his weapon falls to the ground. Meeting her husband just as she always does, Kayla lunges toward the ground and retrieves the weapon, taking aim at the door the moment it opens and firing a round through the elder guardsman’s head without warning, freeing their exit route whilst leaving them with one loose end untied. “Please! Don’t kill me!” the young man exclaims, holding the side of his face whilst presenting his free hand in surrender, not wanting any more strife than he was already tasked with. Though the barrel of his weapon is now aimed in Kayla’s hand, the woman’s reluctance shows the distraught executioner mercy he otherwise may not deserve, letting Chevy tower over him with an intimidating pose. Her hesitation noted, the young man looks up at Kayla’s husband with pleading eyes as he kneels down, allowing his wife to keep lookout over any further threat. “What’s your name, kid?” Chevy asks, taking a zip tie from the guard’s side and fastening it around his wrists. “C- c- Charlie!” the spared executioner replies, unable to keep himself from stuttering as he’s rendered defenceless. “Well, Charlie- consider yourself lucky” Chevy replies, patting the man on the shoulder as he provides him with a smile, he and his wife getting the better hand of yet another situation. “Just remember- in case our paths ever cross again...” the man proceeds, standing upright before leading his wife onward, their escape just getting underway, “...remember who the good guys are here.” Left alive, though restrained- the grief the militant had once been hampered by now sets aside in favour of relief, never more pleased to see inmates escape than he is right now. With a full sprint, Chevy takes the gun off the deceased militant and takes aim at the end of the corridor, joining his wife in venturing onward until they’re called to attention. “Chevy! Kayla!” Kennedy shouts, prompting the pair to turn back the way they came and join the teen girl at the nearest exit. “Ken, you are the only reason I can tolerate children now!” Chevy exclaims, joining his wife in ducking through the nearest side exit, all sights set on the road above. “Yeah, yeah, yeah- let’s go!” Kennedy shouts back, reserving another time for her praise as she leads the charge onward, funnelling through the cramped pathway toward the nearest set of stairs. Sticking together as the light they have to follow dwindles further the longer they run, the group marches toward their freedom- or whatever the aftermath of Jaime’s deposition turns out to be- into a new world. Emerging into a much louder surface than what they’d come to expect, the trio step through the door of what appears to be a shack, though houses much greater secrets than those they wish to share. “Let’s go!” Jaime exclaims, stood by the parked truck that Alex sits behind the wheel of with little time to wait, their collective patience for the small group’s reunion paying off as the vehicle soon fills, the five survivors turning their attention for wherever salvation lies. “Where are we going!?” Kennedy calls aloud, looking for an answer that not one person has to offer, the seconds that pass freeing the floor for the former chancellor to make a call of her own. “North... Lancaster” Jaime replies, seated to the right of Chevy and Kayla whilst her sister and mother take the front-most seats, the road they drive upon paving the way for a very new Republic than what she’d built. Beneath the mask of night, helicopters swarm the city overhead whilst tanks, armoured vehicles and NDF goods travel in from the central city, given the greenlight to step forward in their plan of reuniting the metropolitan as a stronghold for the new world’s order. “What about the Republic!?” Kennedy calls back, turning in her passenger’s seat to look behind her, eyes colliding with her big sister. “The Re-” Jaime begins to reply, pausing for a moment to glance at the city’s skyline, watching the military vehicles swarm the nation she’d carved through pain and perseverance, unable to hold back the feeling that no such thing can be spoken to. “It’s gone, Ken” the former chancellor confesses, letting out a sigh as she sinks back in her seat, “...I lost it.” Confused, Kennedy’s eyes drift to the couple that sit beside her older sister, their collective look of accepting dismay doubling down on the deposed chancellor’s claims. Her face souring in disappointment, Alex keeps her eyes on the road whilst a deep worry runs through her body, sending chills down her spine as a new dawn rises. Without a word to argue against such a claim, Kennedy takes the answer as fact and slowly returns to her seat, pressing her back against its soft support without certainty over what she’s feeling. In each direction, militants move on the orders of their new chancellor, the citizens put on notice of their new administration whilst the nation comes to a standstill, the revolution it was birthed in the ashes of having come back around to strike once more, this time taking the new normal with it. == Dire ==
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“Do you wanna handle this one, or should I?” Julia asks aloud, standing with her arms crossed just beside the chancellor, who peers through the window to the room ahead of her with displeased eyes. “Leaders don’t fight their own battles often enough” Jaime responds, leaning her chin in the doctor’s direction just slightly as her eyes keep to the figure behind the table she’ll soon occupy, “I’ll handle this one myself.”
Aware of where this discussion ultimately leads, the chancellor’s ally begins stepping back, retreating the way she’d arrived to allow the woman a moment of silence. “I’m heading back off to the hospital” Julia remarks, turning her back toward the woman as she departs for other duties, “let me know if you need me.” Without a reply, Jaime’s eyes remain forward, pressing through the transparent, bulletproof panel that separates her from the impending conflict. Letting out a deep sigh as if to accept what needs to be done, the chancellor moves for the door and pulls it open, walking into the room with an undisturbed pace as she takes her seat, letting the entrance shut behind herself. Still without a word, Jaime lays herself on the chair and looks to her subject in utter silence, the look of displeasure she wears both clear and recognisable. With another long, deep breath, the chancellor parts her lips and keeps her voice low, asking just one question without certainty over the answer. “Do you know who I am?” the woman in control inquires, her hands folded atop her lap as she waits for the voice across from her to reply, remaining composed as best she can. “Yes” Carly responds, a cut over her bottom lip and right eyebrow worn and untreated, her eyes steady and unwavering, “you’re the chancellor.” With a subtle nod, Jaime confirms the woman’s assessment, bowing her head for a moment as the next question looms over her mind. “Do you know why you’re here?” the Republic’s frontwoman wonders aloud, her eyes still taken toward the coupled hands that sit below her chin, that answer much more difficult to come by than the first. “No” Carly voices honestly, wearing the wounds of a trip toward the seat she occupies that can be described as anything other than ‘cooperative’. Nodding her head, Jaime takes a moment before lifting her chin up, disheartened by having to take part in the conversation that she serves as the second party to. Still in silence, Jaime looks to her hands once more before uncoupling them, letting her wrists lay atop her thighs as she prepares herself to speak. “I can take a guess, though” Carly interjects, watching the chancellor’s eyebrows lift as the dialogue she struggles to come across is filled in by her suspect. “Please do” the woman replies weakly, opening the floor for her captive to fill in the gaps the Republic’s leader struggles to. Lowering her chin slightly, Carly’s eyes keep on Jaime’s with absolute refusal to leave, her words carrying a harsh weight and stoic emotion. “You know that I’m working with the peacekeepers and now you’re trying to get rid of us” the imprisoned, youthful veteran responds, not an ounce of surprise carried in the chancellor’s visage, “you’re in here to see if I’ll cooperate with you. And- if I can’t- you’ll choose how to deal with me.” Bowing her head for a third time, Jaime’s demeanour answers Carly’s wonderment halfway, an open-end not yet tied up still left to be addressed. “How close am I?” the servant to the Republic’s cause inquires, waiting for her commander in chief to present her discovery with a stamp of approval. “Not that far off” Jaime answers, able to respond in a timely manner as she glances up once again, “-but still a few errors to be corrected.” Unphased and accepting of the situation at hand, Carly shrugs her shoulders and quickly lifts her voice through the air, raising the first question that comes to mind, “correct them then.” Obviously not desiring the responsibility of partaking in the second end of the conversation, the chancellor nods her head and reaches toward her foot. “I already know how I’m going to deal with you” Jaime replies, removing from her leather boot the same revolver she’d tempted fate with so often before, a gesture that slowly humbles the woman across from her. With a noticeable sigh, Carly settles into her seat and pulls the palms she’d pressed against the table onto her lap, realising what is soon to await her for the crimes of picking the wrong side. “But it’s not your cooperation I want” Jaime continues, her end of the explanation not yet settled, “-it’s your word.” Furrowing her eyebrows, the dread-filled horror that Carly hosts is hidden deep down, the devastated western half of a former great nation she’d traversed having turned her core to one of solid steel. “You may not be able to save yourself, but what you say might be able to save other people” the chancellor confesses, letting the empty weapon sit between them as she leans back. Without a word momentarily, Carly stares at the weapon intently before matching the posture of the person that she sits across from, leaning back in her seat with each wrist laying atop her thighs. “Why would I want to do that?” the young woman wonders aloud, challenging the thought her chancellor had presented her with, “the world that you’re building isn’t any better than the one that went down with the catalyst. What makes you think death is a worse option of the two?” “Because they’ve got a baby on the way” Jaime responds almost immediately, the honesty of her reply prompting Carly’s curious squint to widen to a more natural state of concern. As her bottom lip pulls away from the one that sits above it, the battle-hardened young woman’s chin lifts a slight amount as she realises what the chancellor is getting at, the brief recognition immediately changing her attitude. “Chevy and Kayla don’t deserve that” Carly replies, leaning forward slightly as the facial expression her opposing personality wears presents a similar belief. “Then don’t sentence them to it” Jaime replies, leaning forward as her confrontational, mentality-challenging demeanour takes over, controlling the situation at hand and shifting the narrative to her every desire. “M- ME!?” Carly bellows out in offence, pulling back into her seat as her hand presses against her chest, “I’m sorry, when the fuck did I make the decision that they might need to die, huh?” Shaking her head, Jaime presents the woman with a smirk of discontent as she refuses the dialogue she’s being presented with. “Don’t sit there and think that I like having to do this, ‘cause I really don’t” the chancellor retorts, only to have her manipulative twist turned right back around toward herself. “You say that as if there isn’t aren’t blood stains right under my chair as we speak” Carly replies, refusing to let the chancellor get away with writing her actions off as anything other than wanted. “You’ve shot a man in cold blood. You’ve cut our rations to keep us from getting too out of line, and you’ve demonised us to everyone you can” the woman continues to proclaim, “call it whatever you want, but you know exactly what you’re doing. You’ve got the choice not to, but you don’t take it.” “And how about you?” Jaime interjects, refusing to speak toward any of her opposition’s remarks in favour of presenting her own. “You know exactly what they did to me- what they did to Jordan. You knew exactly what kind of people you were getting into bed with” the chancellor remarks, cut off just the same as she’d cut her contemporary short, the scolding woman’s remarks cutting through the fearless Republic’s leader like a knife. “Yeah, I did- people that could see through your bullshit” Carly replies, nodding her head as the expression of discontent across the chancellor’s face begins turning sour. “You chose to make us the enemy, you chose to starve us out, you chose to do whatever made that bloodstain under my seat- you chose it all” she continues, fighting through the walls of defence Jaime had erected in search of driving toward the root of the issue, “like it or hate it- you’ve got to live with it.” “I don’t like what I’ve done, but I wasn’t left with any choice” Jaime argues back, her offence thwarted as she finds herself on the defensive, the points she wields brushed off by the woman she’s become the target of questioning to. “Say whatever you need to make yourself feel like everything you’ve done is justified, but that won’t change that it isn’t” Carly retorts, “maybe killing Ryan was justified, but nothing else was. You made those calls because they benefited you- end of story.” Falling silent once more, Jaime seethes in her chair as a few moments pass, the weapon that she’d left on the table now reclaimed- its chamber filled with just a single bullet. “Were Chevy and Kayla part of the peacekeepers?” the chancellor wonders aloud, spinning the cylinder and slamming it shut with the base of her hand, eyes having followed the one bullet all the way up to the point where it had been situated in place. “They sat in on a few meetings to figure out what it was we believed in” Carly replies honestly, placing her palms against the table once more whilst staring the chancellor directly in the eyes, “whether or not they eventually came around to the truth is something I don’t know about.” Whilst her nostrils flare, Jaime’s quiet rage begins to settle as she holds the weapon’s barrel toward the ceiling, waiting for the moment in which she’d gotten enough out of her subject to redirect its aim. “What is that exactly?” Jaime replies, curious to the woman’s statement and the messaging behind it, “what is the truth?” Shaking her head to the side just once, Carly’s eyes never once leave the chancellor’s own, not even as the firearm she wields begins to rattle as if to suggest her time were close to running out. Remaining silent, the young woman rests her back further into the seat, sliding her hands off the table and tucking them within each other, crossing her arms against her chest. “What is it that you people believe?” Jaime asks for a second time, letting the question settle as her subject lets her expression smoothen, steadying as she prepares for whatever soon awaits her. “That all you care about is power, and you’d be willing to do anything to keep it” Carly replies, crossing one leg over the other as the chancellor sizes her up, “you’re willing to lie, you’re willing to kill, and you’re willing to let us suffer just to get an ounce of leverage- case and point.” “Is that what you think of me?” Jaime wonders back, curious to know the answer that her foe seems hesitant to provide, “if they don’t think I’m able to lead them, that’s the prerogative. But what is it that you think?” Knowing a response to be the only way to set the line of questioning aside, Carly makes her choice to not prolong that confrontation any further than it’s already come, choosing to die with dignity and honesty as opposed to going out succumbing to the parasite across from her. “I think you’re a broken little girl from a broken little home that never got a chance to live” Carly replies, again honestly. “A loving family turned into a waking nightmare, and only when you caught lightning in a bottle did you have the chance to wake up- but you chose to stay asleep” she proceeds, “bought a mansion, but kept living in that broken home ‘cause it was all you ever knew. Needed support when nothing was there to hold you up, but went looking for a shoulder to cry on.” Squinting her eyes as her expression begins to tighten, Jaime allows the woman across from her to continue speaking, mostly out of not wishing to interrupt- though a small part of her wants to keep listening. “When the world went to shit, you went chasing after the people you knew weren’t too far gone. You found some people to trust, and now you’ve fallen so hard that you need me to convince you that they’re still on your side” Carly proceeds, her words not missing a beat. “And now it’s all gone” she concludes, stomping out the trip down a twisted memory lane that the chancellor took a slight amount of peace out of travelling once more. “The broken home is whole again, you doubt the people that never doubted you before, and there’s no more shoulder to cry on” Carly finishes, watching the sour expression on Jaime’s face loosen into one of sorrow, her face falling, “and now that broken little girl is looking for something to make herself whole again.” For the fourth and final time, Jaime looks to the ground in response to Carly, letting the thoughts that cloud her mind be influenced by the remarks her resilient counterpart makes. “Maybe you won’t know until after all of this power has come and gone, but if I had one question to ask you, it’d be this-” the woman on death’s doorstep inquires, prompting the chancellor to look her in the eyes, “-if you’re looking for something to complete you again, why do we have to suffer for it?” Pressing her lips together, Jaime thinks quietly to herself for a moment before Carly’s voice interrupts, calling for the day to be done with. “Come on, let’s just get this over with” the woman says through gritted teeth, trying to hold back tears in an effort to go out on her own terms, motioning the tips of her fingers at the chancellor to take aim. Pressing the soft part of her lip between her teeth, Jaime looks back to the weapon in her hand for a moment before slowly lowering it toward Carly’s face, the young woman’s eyes closing to spare herself the sight of watching it all come to a head. Letting go of a sigh, the chancellor’s finger moves to the trigger with the girl’s words still moving through her mind, bouncing from one part of her conscience to the next as the questions and doubts come over herself instead. After a few seconds, the chancellor returns from the room with the weapon still in hand, slowly closing the door behind herself as she re-enters the dungeon’s corridor. Reupholstering her weapon within the lip of her leather boot, Jaime stares at the wall ahead for a brief moment before turning for city hall, punching the nearest window on her way off as a second voice whispers from further down the hall. “We still have the numbers, but we might not for long” Julia speaks softly into her end of a cell, hidden within one of the interrogation offices as she watches the chancellor depart, “if not now, I don’t think we’re ever gonna get a better chance than this.” Listening into the other end of the line, a confident look of preparedness comes over the doctor’s expression, her plan rolling into effect precisely as desired. “Get ready for a revolution” she remarks, ending the call with a proud smile. = 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 = Sat in complete silence, Kennedy rests within her mother’s arms, cradled close to the woman’s heart as the street lights that illuminate the backseat they sit upon pass by beneath the dark night. “Did Chris know?” Alex asks aloud, calling out to the people that occupy the front seat, making as much of an effort to piece together the story as they do. “Not from what we could tell” Chevy answers, cautiously turning through the backroads that lead out from Lancaster, his sights joining that of his passengers- returning to the Republic. “I don’t think he did” Kennedy speaks out with a softer voice, still suffering the shock of having witnessed what she had. “If what he’s saying about his sister is true, I wouldn’t be surprised if he really was kept in the dark about a ton of stuff” Kayla adds on, her left hand reaching into the backseat and gently rubbing Kennedy’s knee for comfort. “Yeah, well that just makes me question him more” Chevy admits, traversing the hills that lead through the back of the Republic before slowing down to join a line of cars patiently awaiting permission to cross into the rear channel of the young nation. “I’m not questioning anything until we get Jaime out of trouble” Kayla retorts, pressing the sole of her foot against the glove compartment as her head sinks into the seat, “as much of a problem as Chris is, he’s far less of an issue than his sister is.” With her declaration made, the car goes silent for the proceeding few moments, waiting out the moments that pass once they’re granted re-entry to the Republic, the road ahead taken toward the Morris hillside home. “We’ve got company” Chevy announces, pulling onto the final street before the group’s destination, only to find a litany of vehicles- both armoured and otherwise- parked along each side of the street. “Stop the car” Kayla orders, the words giving her husband his marching orders whilst her attention turns to those in the backseat, “the two of you need to get out now.” “Why?” Kennedy inquires, pulling herself out of her mother’s arms as the pregnant woman explains herself. “I don’t know what’s in that house, but I’m not about to start blindly trusting it” Kayla explains, unbuckling both her own seatbelt and her husband’s, “take the truck and get somewhere safe. You’ll know when that is.” Opening her door, Kayla climbs out of the vehicle as Alex and Chevy are soon to follow, Kennedy’s reluctance immediately provided. “Then you should come with us!” the young girl remarks, not wishing to leave her beloved second family to enter danger on their own. “We will- soon” the mother-to-be replies, getting to one knee and placing her hand on the teenage survivor’s shoulder whilst her husband approaches, “until then, we’ve gotta take care of something first.” “We’ll be safe, Ken” Chevy adds in, trying to quell any fear the young girl has that this interaction will be the final one they share, the girl’s doubts slowly subsiding enough to give into the couple’s request. “Do you promise?” Kennedy asks back, looking to the man to double down on his remarks. Lifting his pinky, Chevy drops to a knee beside his wife and lets the girl embrace it with her own, “I pinky promise.” Though uncomfortable with it, Kennedy quickly tries to make peace with the call she doesn’t wish to make, accepting the terms that have been laid out for her before joining Alex in the vehicle’s front seat. “Don’t let anyone stop you, don’t let anyone question you, and don’t trust anything someone in a uniform says, got it?” Chevy asks of the woman that climbs behind the wheel, her nod followed by one request. “Just stay safe” Alex pleads, a request that the couple doesn’t take lightly. “We’ll do what we can, don’t you worry” Chevy responds, joining his wife in giving Kennedy a second nod before shutting the passenger door, letting the truck turn back the way it came and drive off into the night, allowing the pair room for what’s ahead to come to blows. With the front door in their sight, Chevy and Kayla turn down the walkway and step through the hillside mansion’s entrance, the sight they’d expected to find left waiting for them entirely as planned. Sat upon her couch with three glasses of wine atop the table, Jaime watches their arrival whilst surrounded by her security detail, the layout exactly as had been described to them. In silence, Jaime looks to the couple without an expression, the blank look on her face concealing the feelings of betrayal and horror she expects the couple to leave her with. Though certain they know what is bound to unfold, Chevy and Kayla are taken aback by the almost unresponsive display the chancellor responds to them with, not a word paid to them upon entry. “Hold on, this doesn’t add up” Kayla mutters beneath her breath, looking at the control the woman has over her subordinates without certainty, “where’s Julia?” In silence, Chevy reads the chancellor’s visage whilst his wife comes to her line of questioning, only to realise that something is off from what it had been described to them as, the scene of revolutionary triumph over the Morris administration at the doctor’s command not provided to them as anticipated. “Something’s wrong” Chevy remarks to himself, the doubts that he and his wife share answered to by the woman that slowly makes her way off the couch for them, her well-known revolver held within the grasp of her right hand. “Yeah, it is” Jaime replies, scowling at the couple in a manner curious to the expecting parents, thrown off by what they see before themselves, “I’m joined by a pair of traitors. That’s what’s wrong.” | Gasping for breath as he wipes the sweat-stained collar of his shirt over his moist face, Chris returns to the hospital through its rear entry and climbs the first flight of stairs he can find, one step taken after another on his way to the office he’d last seen under different circumstances. With a squeal, the stairwell door presents the doctor passage through his desired level, the buttoned up shirt he’d tied the sleeves of around his waist now discarded on his way through the halls. “Fellow revolutionaries, please make your way through the downstairs lobby” Julia’s voice remarks, speaking through the building’s P.A system with a pleasing tone, “fellow revolutionaries to the lobby please.” Too exhausted to pay much mind to the request, Chris carries onward, hurrying for his office with little thought as to what’s bound to unfold. Through the door he’d missed the touch of, Chris re-enters his quiet chambers, immediately making for his desk before coming to an abrupt stop, finding the office he walks into already occupied by his sister. “It’s a bit late for a run, don’t you think?” Julia asks aloud, leaning back in her brother’s seat with the handset resting face-down atop the desk, a look of intense disappointment carried in her eyes. “I got a bit caught up” Chris replies, struggling to catch his breath whilst his sister remains unmoved, both arms crossed atop her lap with each elbow resting on the armrests. “A bit caught up? A bit caught up in what?” Julia wonders aloud, waiting for an answer that she refuses to allow leave her brothers lips, cutting him off by doubling down on her previous question, “caught up in something like blabbing our plan to perhaps the only people closer to Jaime than you and I, perhaps?” Squinting in confusion, Chris tilts his head toward one side as his angry sister rises from the leather seat, continuing to scold the man for his betrayal of the plan. “Corner her at the house, walk her to city hall and have her ‘peacefully’ forfeit power in front of a live audience. Yeah, remember that?” Julia continues, the line of questioning not making much progress toward her exhausted sibling, “well, maybe you remember me telling you that, since it was my plan- not yours.” “How did you know about that?” Chris asks, his curiosity quickly brushed aside as his irate sister continues barking down at him from a metaphorical pillar she’d manufactured to stand taller than him. “The better question is how you could be such a spineless pansy to break so fuckin’ fast!” Julia responds, shoving her hand into the man’s chest and pushing him against the office door, “I’ve been busting my ass to make sure this goes off without a hitch, and it’s my own brother that blows it up!” “They put a gun on me, Julia!” Chris shouts back, spit flying from his lip as his face gets closer to his sister’s own, the veins in his neck popping as his voice grows louder. “Not throw away all the shit I’ve worked my ass off for!” his sister barks back, hitting at his every nerve without missing a beat, “for fuck’s sake! For a dude who spent every night burying his face in a book, you’re one dumb little cocksucker, ain’t you!?” With an intense smile, Chris shakes his head in the woman’s face and steps past her, walking for his desk as he speaks back. “I’m no more stupid than you are with this little plan of yours” the man replies, drawing the woman’s ire as she turns with him, keeping her eyes on his every move, “you’re the stupid bitch that thinks she can overthrow the fucking chancellor. You’ve wasted all this time getting close to a woman just to stab her in the back and take what she’s built. Pathetic.” “Oh please, I’m doing everyone a favour” Julia replies, one knee arched outward ahead of the other as her finger points toward the ground, “you know damn well that girl hasn’t been the same since we killed her fiance.” “You can’t be stupid enough to think that justifies everythi-” Chris immediately shouts back, cutting himself short as he falls silent, looking to his sibling in confusion for a moment before switching his tone, “wait- what?” Squinting his eyes and scrunching his face, the man nudges his head forward as he watches his sister’s visage begin to fall, her tongue licking the middle of her bottom lip as her eyes drift to the side. Shaking her head, Julia’s sights eventually refocus on her brother as a smirk comes over her face, a laugh hidden beneath her breath. “He only got shot in the chest” the woman murmurs, her bright teeth peering through her lips as she nears breaking out into full blown laughter, “he may have come out of that coma with brain damage, but he would’ve at least come out of it!” His confused stare turning into one of dread, Chris’ head pulls back as his expression tightens into a look of horror, one eye squinting harder than the other, “what did you do?” Unable to hold her amusement any further, Julia chuckles as her eyes roll and her hand dips into the pocket of her coat, removing a syringe that she tosses toward the ground just beside her brother’s seat. Passing his glance between the woman and the needle beside his feet, Chris reaches for the syringe and listens to his sister’s confession, one she can’t provide without revelling in her own success. “I could’ve taken down a rhino with that amount of oxycodone” Julia proclaims, watching her brother’s horrified expression drift in her direction, just the one look on his face enough to admit regret for every decision he’d made since the catalyst took over the world. “No, no- this has gone too far” Chris mutters, his eyes darting from one side of the room to the next as he collapses further into his seat, overcome with a flurry of realisation toward what he’d allowed to take place. “This has gone- way, way too far” he continues, pushing himself out of the chair as his sister regains her composure, watching the man react to everything that has and still will take place. “Oh calm down you fucking idiot” Julia commands, watching her brother set his sights upon her as he considers how to respond, “we’re almost finished.” In vehement refusal, Chris shakes his head at the woman’s declaration, realising what time is of the essence and making his call to action as he reaches for the drawer nearest to his leg. Reaching into the empty slot, the doctor reacts curiously to what’s inside, or rather what’s not. “One step ahead of you, bro” Julia remarks, lifting her brother’s pistol from her side and aiming the barrel at his chest, watching his confused reaction meet her. “Get out from that desk, walk through that door, and join me with the rest of the peacekeepers while we march to the city hall” the woman commands, laying out her request without any doubt that the man will follow willingly. To the girl’s surprise, Chris’ head only continues to shake as a smile of his own comes on, the refusal to capitulate any further than he already has sparking new life as he leaves behind what he was, setting forward a new leaf. “This isn’t happening anymore” the man remarks, watching Julia’s eyebrows furrow as she finds herself challenged, the doctor across from her taking the headset she’d left face-down on his desk into his hand, “Jaime shouldn’t be chancellor, but neither should you.” Reaching for the number pad as he lifts the phone to his ear, Chris listens to the hammer pull back on the weapon his sister wields, her warning made resoundingly clear. “I’ve come too far to let you ruin this for me, Chris” Julia declares, steadying her aim at the man’s chest as he pauses his effort, watching her reaction and waiting for her to finish the thought, “you’re either gonna put that phone down, or I’m gonna put you down.” Met with his choices, Chris pulls his head back for a moment and looks into his sister’s eyes, watching the frenzy that hides behind her pupils as the options are left for him to select from. With the tilt of his head, the doctor’s steady hand keeps a hold of the phone as Julia’s posture remains unchanging, the gleam in his eyes preceding his decision. “You wouldn’t even on your worst day” Chris replies, making his call before lifting the phone to his ear, reaching the tip of his finger to the number ‘2’ button before halted at the sound of a single gunshot. Struck before the opportunity could present itself, the doctor stumbles backward into his seat, his hand pressing against the bullet wound that had pierced his chest from the weapon his own sister wields, a second shot ringing past his ear and through the window just behind him. Wincing as the second shot fires off, Chris leans against his desk as he looks toward Julia in shock, the lengths she’s willing to travel in order to maintain her grasp on control exceeding even the boundaries he’d assumed. “I tried” the woman remarks, meeting the man’s eyes before firing a third shot, this striking just a few inches above the man’s heart as he’s propelled back, stumbling away from his desk and toward the shattered window, nothing left to catch him. His fall too great, Chris stumbles through the shards of glass that remain intact and plummets through the window, returning to earth without a sound before his fall is interrupted by a loud thud, one great enough for his sister to hear from the centre of his office. Letting go of a deep breath, Julia lowers her weapon and returns it to her waistband, putting her actions in the past as she makes for the phone her brother had dropped, lifting it to her mouth and speaking. “If you’re not dedicated to this revolution- start changing your tune” Julia demands, the altercation broadcast through the building’s loudspeaker in its entirety, “-‘cause I’m not fucking around.” Slamming the phone back to its receiver, Julia rounds the desk and makes for the exit, leaving a wake of devastation behind as she ventures onto the final stage of her hostile takeover, the fat trimmed from interfering with her assuming control of the Republic she’d been crucial in kickstarting. | Wasting little time in standing her ground, Kayla takes the firearm from Chevy’s hip and directs the barrel toward Blake, who stands just a few metres away from the chancellor. “Drop the fucking gun!” Willy exclaims, removing his own weapon and taking aim at the woman’s husband as Jaime makes her attempt at regaining control of the situation. “For god’s sake, don’t give them a reason to shoot” the home’s owner remarks, warning the couple that stands before them, “you’ve done enough.” As the only person unarmed, Chevy takes the conversation’s centre stage, lifting both hands into the air until Jaime’s declaration catches his ear, striking him as odd. “We’ve done-? WE’VE done enough?” the man inquires, looking the woman in the eyes as his head tilts, a smile coming over his face in disbelief, “wait, we’re the traitors!?” Caught off guard, Kayla looks toward her husband with as much confusion as he continues speaking, the unchanged expression on Jaime’s face insinuating that he’s come to the correct conclusion. “If you’re a peacekeeper, you’re the enemy” Jaime replies, doubling down on her remarks despite the awestruck reaction from those that stand before her at gunpoint. “Wha-!? Haha! Holy shit, have you lost your fucking mind!?” Chevy exclaims with unrivalled animation, catching himself in a sea of laughter whilst the rest of the room watches on, “you’re funnelling goods to the peacekeepers as we speak, and WE’RE the traitors?” Shaking her head, Jaime tucks her hands into her pockets and looks to the man with curiosity, “what are you talking about?” she asks unimpressed, joining the rest of the room in not seeing what’s funny. “Well for someone that’s so against a tiny little political group, you seem to be tickled pink at handing them rations under the table!” Chevy remarks, immediately kept from speaking further as a loud voice cuts him off. “Shut your mouth!” Blake orders, taking aim with his weapon and holding it in the man’s direction whilst the chancellor searches for a clearer picture. “I haven’t been handing them anything, Chevy” the woman replies, the man’s doubt immediately called into question. “Then why send them down to the pub to negotiate for volunteer work for a fair split of the rations? What could you possibly-?” Chevy asks aloud, again cut off by the man whose claim provoked such a volatile response. “I said ‘shut the fuck up’!” Blake barks, prompting the chancellor’s eyes to take toward his direction in confusion. “Let him speak, Blake” Jaime commands gently, turning back to face the couple before finding surprise in the man’s reply. “No!” the woman’s detail replies, immediately drawing her wide eyes back in his direction as she calls his reply into question. “Excuse me?” the chancellor queries, looking to the side of the man’s face as his visage scrunches, realising who he’d just refused and the mistake that such a response had been. “Shit” Chevy murmurs, regaining Jaime’s attention just as he does the rest of the room’s, a realisation as strong as Blake’s was now coming over himself, “you have no idea what’s happening, do you?” Calling the question out to his longtime friend, the father-to-be looks the chancellor in the eyes as their focus centres upon each other in the moment of curiosity, her puzzlement continuing to present itself. “Ms. Morris, don’t listen to him” the head of her security detail requests, keeping the aim of his weapon on Chevy as the chancellor redirects her attention to him. “Blake, shut the fuck up” Jaime replies, watching the man’s eyes press together in regret before her attention recentres upon the man, a squint paid in his direction to request further explanation. “How else do you think Blake knew we were sitting in on peacekeeper meetings?” Chevy asks aloud, “how do you think he could’ve told you if he hadn’t been there himself?” Shaking her head, Jaime keeps an open mind as she replies through a confused look, “he didn’t, Julia did” the chancellor replies, watching her bewildered expression become mirrored in the man across from her. “Julia, how did-? How did Julia know?” the man wonders aloud, uncertain how that pieces together before Willy keeps an answer from being provided. “Ms. Morris, they need to be taken into custody” the second in Blake’s command remarks, prompting Jaime to respond with a display of her own. From her boot, Jaime takes her revolver into the young man’s direction, holding it at his head whilst the rest of the room looks on in surprise. “If another person interrupts Chevy, I’m gonna put a bullet through Willy’s head- and that’s final” Jaime declares, laying down her authority as the instinctive piece of her heart that trusts those she’s branded as a traitor presents itself. “Wait, no- This had nothing to do with you” Chevy mutters beneath his breath, though loud enough for all named participants in the confrontation to hear, “you’ve got no idea what’s happening here.” “Then stop dancing around the fucking topic and start telling me what I’m missing” Jaime replies, putting her foot down and refusing to give up ground. “You’re missing the fact that you’re surrounded by traitors, and they’re not us” Chevy replies, his words prompting those with guns aimed at the couple to begin worrying about the restriction that the chancellor has placed upon them, refusing the opportunity to cut the man off from spilling the beans on their collective operation. “Chris told us about what was supposed to happen here. This was the night your little combat friends here were gonna throw you out of power” Chevy explains, his words continuing to make an attempt at breaking through the chancellor’s walls, “Julia was gonna show up, take you into custody, and march to city hall with the peacekeepers she had working as volunteers for the-” Pausing mid-sentence, Chevy’s lapse in response draws the urge from the woman across from him, her burning desire to know what he was getting at eating away. “They’re working for Julia” the man realises, looking Blake in the eyes as his visage begins to sour, pointing a finger in the man’s direction, “they offered them food, got them to work as volunteers so Julia could use them as a militia to overcome you.” Squinting her eyes, Jaime looks hard into Chevy’s face, listening to the conclusions he makes whilst keeping a look on Blake from out of the corner of her eye. “The peacekeepers are working for your detail, your detail’s working for Julia, and Julia’s coming to usurp you as chancellor” the man continues, running down the list like a set of bullet points whilst the chancellor latches onto his every word, “and it was all supposed to happen tonight.” “Bullshit” Willy remarks, losing care over what happens to him now that the can of beans has begun to spill, the bullet he’d been warned would come for him still kept within Jaime’s chamber. “Really? If all of you are here ‘cause Julia told you we were with the peacekeepers, then why isn’t Julia here?” Chevy retorts, passing a glance through the room toward the large group of armed security that lines the mansion, “if all of you were here for us, why bring so much backup?” “You can’t be trusted and we needed to come prepared” Blake answers, immediately sparking the doubt from Chevy’s mind. “Really? ‘Cause as far as I’m concerned, there’s no one Jaime’s ever been able to trust more than us!” the man barks back, looking the woman in the eyes as his hands fall to each side, one foot placed in front of the other as he slowly approaches the Republic’s chancellor. “No one else brought a group out to the mountains of Colorado to help her broker a deal with Lancaster. No one else was there by her side when Jordan went down” Chevy remarks, looking the woman in the eyes as he utters every word, watching her doubt begin to slowly lower with each example he lists. “We made sure Kennedy was safe on that first night. We risked acid rain to keep Eli from putting a knife in her chest. We risked everything to keep Jordan safe from gunfire once the sanctuary went down in flames” Chevy continues, “and I don’t remember seeing any of you at Jordan’s bedside when he passed, but I sure as hell remember being there myself.” As her eyes turn emotional, Jaime’s guard begins to lower as her wield on the firearm begins to lessen, lowering from Willy as her firearm-holding hand begins to shake. “She had no reason to trust us when we first met, but she did” Chevy continues, finally closing the distance between himself and the chancellor, who now stands just before him, staring up into his eyes as he speaks, “and unlike too many others, we have never betrayed her.” “You joined the peacekeepers- that was your betrayal” Blake responds, both his weapon and Willy’s still held in Chevy’s face, which turns toward the man upon the calling of him. “We sat in on meetings to understand what it was that they felt was best for the Republic. Anyone arguing that it’s useless to try and understand the point your opponent is coming from is stupid” the man replies, redirecting his focus toward the chancellor as he makes his point, “but our loyalty never wavered. Not once.” “I’m getting sick of this” Willy proclaims, beginning to draw more ire from the chancellor than the supposed traitors to her cause now do, a side-glance taken in the young man’s direction from his immediate superior. “Jaime, look at me” Chevy requests, pulling the woman’s attention away from the aggravating militant and back toward himself, “we’ve always been there for you and your family. Knowing the peacekeepers on more than a first name basis has never changed our trust in you.” With a deep breath, the chancellor continues looking the man in the eyes as he proceeds to speak, her conscience weighing heavy as the moment to make the call of a lifetime draws near. “Julia- if not already there- is en-route to city hall as we speak. If you trusted her, you made the wrong call” Chevy explains, taking a single step back before slowly spreading his arms out by each side, “-putting that aside, we’re telling you that we still trust you to make the right one.” Backing up far enough to rejoin his wife’s side, Chevy leaves the call up for the woman to decide whilst the mother to his child finishes his thought. “So-” Kayla remarks, keeping her aim steady on Blake as the security detail and its many armed supporters watch on, waiting for the scenario to resolve itself in one direction or another, “-tell us that you trust us, too.” With eyes furrowed, Jaime lowers her weapon from Willy’s direction and pulls her sights away from the couple that stand before her, passing a look toward the many armoured militants that line her home in patient expectation. From the wine rack on one side of her home to the blank wall that conceals her garage on the other, the chancellor takes in the sights of her home from clarity before she can make her call, a look back at the humbling truth she’d been presented with bringing her to earth. Pressing her lips together, Jaime glances back to the empty wall as she steps away from Blake’s side, slowly approaching Chevy and Kayla with the weapon still held at her side. One foot in front of the other, the chancellor walks into the visual embrace of those she’d spent each day of the new world with as the call she makes settles with her, those that she stands before left waiting for a result. Passing a look at the open door that stands behind both her subjects in question, Jaime sets her sights on Chevy before lowering her eyes toward Kayla, a single glance at her slight baby bump bring a smile upon the chancellor’s face. With one final sigh, the woman’s eyes refocus upon the expecting mother as her free hand rests upon the woman’s shoulder, a nod of approval given. “I trust you” Jaime replies, immediately pushing Kayla into Chevy and thrusting them through the open doorway, her revolver centring upon the blank wall across from her wine rack whilst the trigger is pulled. Crashing onto the front lawn with the couple, the chancellor’s weapon discharges a bullet directly through the drywall and into the hefty propane tanker just beyond it, lighting her mansion ablaze in a fiery explosion she just narrowly avoids being caught in. Soaring into the heavens, a massive ball of flames lights the ground for a brief moment as if it were the sun itself, those unfortunate enough to find themselves caught within the luxury hillside property left without a hope of escaping the initial eruption. Held tight within her husband’s arms, Kayla feels Jaime climb off the pair and assist them back to their feet, trying to aid them in breaking out before the moment proves to have passed. Hidden within their armoured vehicles, backup security emerges from just beside the home, weapons drawn and military garb adorned to protect from any counterattack has seemingly spelled the end for the fellow militants caught within the initial blaze. “On the ground! On the fucking ground!” one man exclaims, catching the chancellor by surprise as she stands out in front of the expecting couple, sticking her neck out for them just as they had so many times before. Without a second thought, the men Jaime had employed to serve her now throw her to the ground and lock her in cuffs, treating Chevy and Kayla with similar hostility as the couple are proven to be correct, the plot to bring her down truly unfolding as described. With a few blades of grass sticking to her lip, the chancellor is pulled to her feet and dragged to the nearest car, left to watch on as her friends are treated similarly, no chances taken as her administration appears to crumble. Looking to the flames shoot out from her home, Jaime watches a few armoured men hurry through her front door with terrible wounds, their status the least of her worries. Setting forth down the road, the chancellor’s lips part to mutter the word “fuck” beneath her breath, the gravity of what’s unfolding only now beginning to settle in, her administrative title becoming less suitable with each second that passes- a new era seemingly on the horizon for the Angelino Republic. == Dire == Flooded with light, the box truck’s inner compartment is opened for the overseers of Lancaster to enter, shaking the vehicle as they each climb in, one after the other. “Hurry up and let’s get this over with before dinner- I wanna go home” one of the men remarks, helping one of his two colleagues pull the first body off the accumulated pile with an eagerness to finish his duties accordingly.
In the same moment, Chris walks through the halls of the hospital with his doctor’s coat on, still performing his duties in spite of his voice serving as the people’s informant. Unassuming of any misdeed, the man steps around a corner and ventures toward his office, disposing of his clipboard in a nearby tray mounted upon the wall. Keeping his distance, Chevy follows closely behind with a hand tucked into his left pocket, matching each step of the man ahead with one of his own. In the clear momentarily, Kennedy peers her head above another body, finding the truck bed clear of the undermanned staff as they venture toward a large building closeby. With a brief struggle, the girl takes her opportunity to capitalise on Lancaster’s oversight, climbing over the litter of people and quickly hopping down from her ride. Surrounded by little more than a few rundown homes and sand pathways, the teenage voyager’s eyes take toward the men’s direction. Letting his coat fall from the top of his shoulders, Chris folds the long, white cover over his right arm and turns the next corner, a sigh of relief coming over him as a familiar hallway nears. Quiet and imposing, Chevy continues to keep on the man’s trail, refusing to let him break too far ahead from sight. Tying his longer hair into a ponytail, the stalking father-to-be watches the man step through the doorway to his office, prompting a smile to emerge across the looming shadow’s face. With nothing more to latch her attention onto, Kennedy follows the trio’s progression onward, eventually nearing a bush to crouch behind. With a slow breeze, the hair on her neck raises as it’s kissed by mother nature herself, passing the time between the worker’s departure and re-arrival. All beside each other, the workers return to the truck and pass the bush without question, freeing their unnoticed hitchhiker to finish her venture toward the monolith just ahead. Closing the door behind himself, Chris hangs his jacket on the nearest hanger and begins for his desk, immediately coming to a stop upon finding his chair occupied. “Kayla?” the doctor inquires, not needing a moment to identify the person patiently awaiting his arrival, her arms crossed against her chest as she leans into his seat. “What are you doing here?” he inquires, only for his mind to venture toward a different line of thought the moment his door opens for a second time. Through the doorway, Kennedy enters the behemoth of a shack to the sight of a grizzly scene, an empty entry foyer splattered with pools of blood- both dry and fresh- waiting for her advancement onward. Glancing around her immediate vicinity for only a moment, the girl’s eyes take toward a roughed-up closet in the corner of the room with a few holes in it, the perfect opportunity presented to buy herself time. Climbing within, Kennedy glues her eyes toward her entrance as she shuts the door. His back turned to the doctor, Chevy slowly revolves around toward his befuddled centre of focus. From the man’s chair, Kayla rounds his desk before pulling a firearm from around her back. “What’s going on!?” Chris asks in a panic, turning away from the man as he looks for the woman, only for the room to begin spinning as the back of the third party’s hand hits him across the face. “Argh!” a woman screams from the next room over, the sounds of torture and torment catching Kennedy’s ear like the call of her name as the trio she’d evaded earlier return with three new packages. Just as they had before, the men depart yet again, freeing the intrusive girl to progress further into the building despite what she overhears leaving her little desire to do so. Stepping out from cover, the girl’s eyes peer into the next room and widen with what she finds. Crashing into the wall and falling to the ground before he can regain his awareness, Chris holds the side of his face that now stings with a bright red handprint courtesy of his male visitor. “You’re either going to talk, or we’re going to kill you” Kayla warns, loading a clip into her pistol before taking aim at the doctor’s horrified expression, incapable of understanding the motivations of those that stand over him. “I didn’t do anything!” a woman shouts at her assailant, who simply laughs before lashing her over the back with his leather belt once more, another yelp of anguish pulled from the restrained prisoner. Gripping the doorframe tightly, Kennedy gazes at a plethora of individual, manual machines that line a massive warehouse floor, each operated by a fleet of bound, near-nude and heavily wounded prisoners that silently plead for mercy. “Please, please! I don’t know what’s happening!” Chris worriedly exclaims, pressing his back as far into the wall as it can manage as the woman’s firearm steadies its aim. “You’re gonna answer our questions, that’s what’s happening” Chevy replies, making the situation as clear as he can muster the ability to, “if you lie, we’ll kill you. If we don’t believe you, we’ll kill you. And if you try to kill us, you’ll have to make sure you get the job done quick.” “Okay! I get it!” a black woman wails, her back presenting sores and open wounds from the hide of her keeper’s belt. Without a word, the uniformed black patrolman punishes her speech, striking her with the waistband accessory once more to the same, familiar response. Only able to muster a smile, the man watches the woman drop to a knee and silently cry, finally understanding that her work amidst silence is the only salvation to her ongoing strife. “Where was Cody going with that truck earlier?” Chevy inquires, looking the doctor in the eyes as his wife stands overhead, keeping her aim as unbroken as their determination to set after their dearest dependent is. “It was going back to Lancaster! Of course it was going back to Lancaster!” Chris replies, immediately pressing his eyes shut as his body tenses, reacting to the barrel of the weapon Kayla presses against his forehead. “It’s a big ole’ group effort!” a man exclaims from just beyond the building’s entrance, signalling the return of the group Kennedy’s back is turned toward. As her time diminishes, the young woman’s mind calls back to previous moments of patience and stealth, bringing to mind the couple that helped free her a place in the truck before jumping into action. Sprinting into the cesspool of pain and despair, the girl hurries toward the nearest column and presses her back to it- unnoticed. “P- p- people!” Chris stutters, both hands continuing to be raised toward those that hold his fate in the palm of their hands. “People? You plastic wrapped people?” Chevy says with an expression fully-encompassed by confusion, “why?” With little else to do than tell the truth, the doctor confesses to his agreements. “Because he needs labour to keep things running!” the doctor replies, a slight irritation in himself shown through the visage he wears, “we’re the ones that supply him with it!” Her heart pounding as her chest heaves from the fear that trifles over her, Kennedy presses her eyes shut as a set of footsteps approach her position, closing in with an anxious step. Without a word, the men that venture toward the foyer in which she’d hurried out from just moments prior step across the foundational pillar, advancing past the young girl without a second thought as they step out to meet the men bringing in their newest delivery. “And what happens to the people that are on that truck?” Chevy demands to know, raising the question for the doctor to answer. “They’re the people he puts to work!” Chris replies, continuing to pass a glance between the man standing over him and the woman playing with his life at stake. “Fuck” Chevy grunts through his teeth, rolling his eyes as he looks to the far side of the room from over his shoulder, “Kennedy’s on that fucking truck.” As her breathing eases, Kennedy glances around the corner and toward the rest of the room, setting her sights on those that stand over the enslaved workers with hopes of keeping count. “Urgh!” one of the armed overseers exclaims, colliding with the floor as a cluster of his workers watch on closeby. Breaking free from his restraints, a man rips his hands free from the machine he’s attached to and lunges toward the man on the ground, those that surround yet unsure of what’s unfolding. “Here’s what’s gonna happen” Chevy remarks, taking the weapon from his wife’s hand and pulling Chris up by the collar of his shirt, the barrel of the weapon he wields pressed against the man’s lower back. “You’re gonna lead us to the quietest part of the hospital, out to the back lot and into your car” Kayla explains, tossing the white jacket over the doctor’s shoulders as her husband holds him hostage, “you make a sound and he’ll put two rounds in your back, understood?” Taking a hold on the overseer’s holstered firearm, the imprisoned worker fires two shots into the patrolman strolling along the catwalk above, clearing the ground of any armed watchers just overhead. “Put it down!” a second guard exclaims from closeby before he, too, is struck with a pair of bullets. Though weak and tired, frail and fragile, the restraint-freed worker wraps his arm around the fallen overseer’s neck and pulls him close, holding the firearm to the side of the man’s head. With unrivalled composure, Chevy and Kayla march through the halls with the doctor’s best attempt at acting natural put forward, the gun that presses against his back beneath the cover of his jacket making it difficult to keep composed. Through the halls, Chris ventures toward the quiet, desolate and abandoned sector with his sights following the bright red exit signs. “I swear, I wouldn’t have let him go if I knew Kennedy was on the truck” he vows, something the couple doubts. “Nobody move! I’ll shoot!” the prisoner exclaims, his tone familiar to those he’d been attached to the machine alongside, but not anyone else. “Clayton, stop! They’ll kill you, man!” one of his fellow entrapped workers pleads, the request falling upon the fragile, desperate man’s deaf ears. Knowing the danger that looms overhead, Kennedy remains still against the column in hopes of not escalating tensions, only to watch a second display unfold just a few metres away from her. Through the exit, Chris leads the couple toward his vehicle at the back of the lot, not bothering to plead for his safety with hopes that his actions would ensure it. “The times were desperate, and we had to make moves” the man remarks, admitting to the things that have come to haunt his conscience whilst he’s still alive to do so, neither Chevy, nor Kayla too interested in the words he provides. Burning his wrists against his own set of restraints, a man just ahead of Kennedy hurries toward a patrolman whilst plunging the head of a screwdriver into the back of his neck. Unable to intervene as the altercation dips below the sights of the armed overseers, those that surround the facility with the goal of maintaining order find themselves helpless to stop what appears to slowly unfold. Emerging from cover, the prisoner takes the automatic rifle from his victim toward the entrance. “Julia said we needed to have leverage. I didn’t agree with how she went about it, but it was working!” Chris explains, unlocking the doors to his car before they’re snatched from his possession by the pregnant woman beside him. “If I said anything, it would screw everything up and my sister and I would pay for it” the doctor proceeds, ducking his head as Chevy leads him into the backseat, keeping the weapon on him as Kayla gets behind the wheel, “I couldn’t do that to her.” Knowing well enough to get out from crossfire, Kennedy leaps out from behind the concrete column and ducks below the first machine she can find the sight of. With the pull of a trigger, bullets begin to tear through the building’s entrance as a litany of workers- both those on the clock and those unloading their newest shipment- meet their demise at the hands of the second released captive. “What else haven’t you been telling us?” Chevy asks half-heartedly, intending for the remark to be met as a poorly-timed joke before his eyes lock onto those of the doctor beside him, the guilty expression presenting the expecting father with a surprised reply. In silence, the man looks to the doctor with a shocked expression whilst his wife tears out of the parking spot and speeds toward the exit, passing a blue sedan parked just beside the front gates. “Shhh!” Kennedy hisses to the woman above her, pressing a finger against her lip as the second enslaved workhorse sprints from cover and closes off the facility’s entry whilst a sea of shrieks and screams emerge from all directions of the warehouse. “Little girl, you need to get out of here now!” the woman above hisses, only to be met with a second call to silence from the teenage hideout whilst the scene unfolds. “What the fuck is this?” Julia whispers, rolling down the window to her stationary blue sedan as her brother’s car rips through the exit, her eyes having watched the entire scene unfold. Just as the question leaves her lips, the phone in her pocket begins to vibrate repeatedly, calling her attention to the soul that beckons for her answer. Peaking around the corner, Kennedy watches an onslaught unfold right before her eyes as the sea of patrolmen are met with a coordinated attack from those equally freed from their binds. Whilst some bleed out or suffer from their unexpected attacks, many patrolmen remain upright and unharmed by the initial outburst, their contemporaries unable to say the same for the most part. Lowering her eyebrows, Julia reads the initials on the phone’s overhead display before opening the phone, the speaker pressing against the side of her ear as she remains silent. “Clark?” Chevy’s voice calls aloud, immediately prompting the overwatching doctor’s eyes to widen, a moment being spent to register the voice she hears call a number she wouldn’t have anticipated being afforded to it. “Put your guns down and give up!” Clayton exclaims toward those responsible for the brutality that had been inflicted upon them, their suffering yet to cease just as the gunfire does. “Argh!” the leading figure in the revolt exclaims, struck in the shoulder with a single gunshot before he pulls the trigger he wields, executing the hostage he’d taken. The fight only just beginning, a standoff ensues as the wounded revolutionary drops to the ground behind the cover of his fellow captives. “Clark, there’s something going on with Jaime and you guys. You need to get out of that bar right now” Chevy quips, still met with silence from the other end he believes to belong to the peacekeeper’s speaker. “Hello?” he calls out, waiting for a reply that refuses to be given as the call is ended from the other line of the speaker’s phone. Closing the flip device, Julia presses the phone against her chest as her eyes take toward the tire tracks her brother’s car had left behind. = 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 = With her arms crossed and back pressed against the wall furthest from the two-way mirror, Jaime listens to the conversation unfolding in front of her in silence, not interjecting herself into what she spectates over. “I’m not telling you anything” a woman inside the interrogation room the chancellor stands before remarks, joining her brothers and sisters in remaining silent, refusing to capitulate to the forces she stands in opposition of. Unbeknownst to the Republic’s leader, a set of feet quietly approach her from the far end of the corridor she stands alone in, his head bowing whilst his ears take only to the words he can hear being spoken from behind the glass. “All of you are sick. Depraved. None of you represent the people” the imprisoned woman continues, met with silence from the armed man that sits facing her, “you’re no better than Django. And now that you’ve got the NDF around everywhere- that proves it.” “So... what?” the man across from her replies, curious to the answer, “are you insisting that you’re the ‘pro-people’ movement?” Coming to the awareness of company joining her, Jaime passes a glance at the man that nears her, paying him little mind whilst the conversation unfolds before her. “Why are you here?” the chancellor inquires, her arms kept crossed against her chest as Wade slowly draws near, eventually taking the open spot just beside the woman to occupy. “I was told something less than defendable was happening down here” Wade answers, fitting the top halves of his fingers into each pocket whilst joining the woman in pressing his back to the wall. “What Hitler-esque shit are you having me write off, Ms. Morris?” the man continues, opening the field for an answer to be supplied, only to be left waiting just as the chancellor does. “Something I hope doesn’t have to happen here” Jaime answers, continuing to watch the discourse ahead. “You’re killing us. You’re starving us out and driving us mad- but it won’t work” the embattled figure of the peacekeeper movement remarks, smiling at her interrogator as her head shakes, “we’re stronger than you.” Letting a sigh leave through her nose, Jaime’s visible discontent is made clear to the man beside her, who looks down toward her face out of the corner of his eyes quietly, waiting for the unfolding situation ahead to play out. “And that’s what you’re running with?” the questioning man within the room inquires, squinting as his head bows subtly, “you’re not going to cooperate?” With an impassioned vigour, the woman’s head juts forward as her lips arch, sending a wad of spit flying from her mouth and into the face of the person that sits ahead. Pressing her eyelids shut, Jaime tilts her head back and looks toward the ceiling as a second question is finally prompted of the NDF leader to ask. “What am I waiting for?” Wade queries, watching the chancellor’s eyes open and head reposition herself to stare ahead, the silence she answers him with all he’ll be offered for a reply. Dragging the legs of his chair against the ground, the less-affable gentleman in the room wipes the loogie from the side of his face and rounds the table, approaching the woman with a pent up anger that he allows the simmer before it finally boils over the edge. With a brief windup, the man’s hand swings down upon the woman’s face with an awe striking force, nearly colliding with enough power to knock the woman onto the verge of unconsciousness. “If you try forcing them to comply, they’ll just play you until the chance to turn against you shows up” Jaime replies, closing her eyes once more to abstain from witnessing the attack coming into existence ahead, simply listening to each grunt and strike follow one after another. Grimacing at the merciless attack Jaime’s administration progresses with, Wade remains silent in the face of villainous acts he’s become familiar enough with over time, though the outward nature of what he sees before him is unlike much of the same he’d witnessed in the past. “They have to decide to cooperate. Those are the only people it’s possible to trust” the chancellor continues, parting her eyes to look at the man she speaks to, “anyone who doesn’t realise that is a fool.” Continuing to deal blows well after the woman is rendered unconscious, the guard continues to swing away with equal force to that of his first blow, the intent far greater than severely wounding his victim. “How many so far?” Wade inquires, refusing to add emphasis to the question, though what he’s referring to is not needed. “Sixty four so far” Jaime responds, watching the guard cease his assault before pressing his fingers to the woman’s neck, checking for a pulse. With a deep breath, the man lets his hand fall from her chin and begin retreating for the door as the chancellor speaks up, correcting herself, “sixty five.” Curling his lip, Wade watches the man toss a jacket over his shoulder and step out of the walled-in room, gently closing the door behind himself and bowing to the superiors that stand outside, politely gesturing to them as if he hadn’t just beaten a woman to death seconds prior. “How could you live like this?” the NDF spokesman asks aloud, looking to the chancellor as if curious toward her desensitisation toward such a malicious practise. “That sounds like a really big voice coming from someone who stood by and watched while the government turned the rain to acid and killed half of civilisation” Jaime responds, turning her head to look the answer-less man in the eyes, his grimace presenting itself as his head bows. “I do what needs to be done. I live like this because it’s the only possible way to live anymore” the chancellor replies, justifying her actions as if such a task were possible, “there’s nothing without order.” “-And there are other ways of maintaining it” Wade responds, adding onto the woman’s statement without being met with reluctance. “I’m not perfect, I’ve never claimed to be and I never will. Yes, I watched my colleagues set the world on course for this. But even I draw a line somewhere” the man continues, only met with the woman’s confrontational stare the moment he mentions such a line, one that sparks an argumentative flare deep within the Republic’s chancellor. “Draw that line with me and I’ll gut you like a fat bitch, you nutless cocksucker” Jaime immediately warns, her tone never wavering from the low, confident and composed growl of a leader refusing to relinquish any inch of the power she’s obtained. “I’m telling you this right now because I want you to see it coming when it happens- I’m going to stab you in the front one day” the chancellor explains, her intentions made resoundingly clear. “Thanks for getting the other half of the city back up and running- I really appreciate it” Jaime persists, pulling out the phone that rings on her hip, “-but there will come a day when I no longer need you. When that day comes, I’ll butcher you while everyone watches. And when I do so, it won’t be in the name of the NDF, it’ll be for my Republic.” Deeply dissatisfied and angered, Wade snarls as the woman presses the phone against her ear, answering the call that comes in from the other end whilst her superior stands over her, made to look inferior in her demeanour and cadence. With widening eyes, the chancellor brushes shoulders with the NDF frontman and returns for her office on the floors above, prepared to answer the call to action she’s received. “No, don’t chase after them” Jaime replies, hair bouncing off her shoulders as she walks intently for the nearest set of stairs, “I have a better idea.” | Running a dry rag over his countertop, Cody tends to the upkeep of his small shop on the foremost corner past Lancaster’s entrance, its front gates recently aided by the installation of armed guards. “I’ll be with you in just a second” the man calls out the moment a bell from over his storefront’s entrance rings aloud, able to be heard over the sound of 50’s rock and roll through the speaker of his radio. Met with silence, Cody carries on with his business, discarding the rag before taking a cardboard box of sweets to the shelves situated just behind his serving bar, propping one up after another as his patrons patiently await his attention to settle upon them. “It’s a pretty nice day outside, ain’t it?” the store owner remarks, passing a glance at the front door before shaking his head, speaking to those he’s still yet to provide service to, “I don’t know how many more we’ve got this year.” With the final few treats set up for the afternoon, Cody breaks down the box and turns around to face his customer with a smile, “so, what can I do you fo-?” His voice stopped in its tracks, the man’s eyes fall upon the sight of three people- the faces of whom all familiar to him- whilst one sits on the edge of a meeting with his maker. “We know everything, Cody” Chevy remarks, beginning the conversation with civility and honesty, not wanting the man to claim assumptions that lying will do him any good. Whilst her husband holds the barrel of his gun against the side of Chris’ head, Kayla lays her attention solely on the man, making sure to speak clearly as she follows up her soulmate’s words. “The people you drove off with- and what you do with them- we know everything” she proceeds, immediately watching the beady eyes of Lancaster’s owner dart in her direction, his body rigid and frozen stiff as his mind is unable to process the gravity of what’s happening quicker than his panic can settle in. “We know about the slave labour, where the warehouse is, what you give the Avallone’s in return- I mean it when I say ‘we know everything’, Cody” Kayla continues, watching the expression of acceptance settle in over the off guard-caught man as he realises there are no lies left to tell. “I want you to listen very carefully to me, because we’re not interested in wasting time we don’t have” the woman proceeds, refusing to pull punches she doesn’t have the luxury of wasting. With his lip quivering, Cody glances back toward Chris in hopes for guidance, only for the aversion of his eyes to be set aside by the foremost woman, who immediately regains his attention. “Eyes up here, buddy- there’s no one that can help you” Kayla warns, aiming her finger in the man’s face and pulling his sights back toward herself, “you’re gonna take us there, call off your men, and let your people free or else-” Cut off by the sudden rumbling of the ground, Kayla grabs onto the counter for support as the building shakes, caught in the vicinity of an earth-shaking eruption not too far off. Also knocked off his feet, Chevy stumbles to the side and crashes into a set of shelves whilst Chris maintains enough balance to grab onto a concrete pillar. The wave only momentary, a pause comes over the four inhabitants of the shop as curiosity gets the better of them, their prior conflict soon returning. Pressed against his counter, Cody watches Kayla regain her balance as Chevy collides with the ground, the firearm released from his hand on his way down. With the opportunity presented to him in the least deniable way possible, the store owner reluctantly reaches into a compartment just a few short centimetres below his waist. “I’m sorry about this” the man remarks, pulling out a twelve-gauge shotgun as Kayla’s eyes widen, recognising that her leverage had eroded within an instant. With his finger reaching for the trigger, Cody aims the weapon at the poor soul closest to him, Kayla’s sights set on the barrel that now stands before her face as a bullet is fired, ripping through the air and removing the weapon from her head. “Argh!” Lancaster’s overseer groans, pulling his firearm back as he stumbles back into the wall of sweets, the wounded cries he bellows silencing once a second shot rings out, the first bullet having pierced his chest whilst the second takes his heart. The shotgun falling from his hands, Cody drops dead behind the cover of his storefront countertop, the moments he’d anticipated using to take the lives of two immediate threats instead used to take his final breaths. In the following aftermath, the air begins to quiet as a tense moment of calmness overcomes the room, only dying off once Chevy climbs to his feet, stepping on the goods he’d knocked over on his way to the ground. “Chevy!” Kayla shouts, still bracing for combat as if the threat hadn’t already been dealt with, warning her husband of the threat that still looms, making him privy to what stands beside him. With the same weapon he’d threatened to take the doctor’s life with, Chevy watches Chris press his back against the pillar he’d reached out for support from, the pistol now splitting its aim between either member of the couple and the hostage they’d taken with them into Lancaster. “Woah, woah!” Chris exclaims, creating distance between himself and the couple, his secondhand held high in a display of surrender, not wanting to create more strife than there already is. “I’m not gonna hurt you!” the man continues to plead, departing the centre of the room to allow the couple to regroup, Chevy taking stand at the forefront whilst using his body to shield Kayla from further threat, “I’m not gonna hurt you” he reiterates. Standing in front of his wife whilst centring the barrel of Chris’ weapon upon himself, Chevy stands silently, not knowing for certain what is still to come as his hostage stands by, waiting for the room to fall calm before making any further remarks. As a few seconds pass, the doctor lowers his knee to the ground and rests the weapon on the floor, continuing to plead his case. “I’ve made too many bad calls already” Chris confesses, pulling his finger out from the trigger guard and backing away, letting the expecting father reclaim his weapon without a fight, “I just wanted to make a good one for once.” With both hands raised, the doctor continues to step back, opening the floor for Chevy to cautiously approach the weapon, picking it up slowly before aiming it in the hostage’s direction, though not on his person. After a few seconds spent in silence, the two men connect eyes with each other’s and read into their opposition’s demeanour, yet to make any calls of their own as Kayla steps out from her husband’s protection. Moving for the exit, the woman leaves the men to continue their stare down, neither choosing to make their move on the other, nor wanting to. Still without a response, Chevy begins stepping back, moving to rejoin his wife outside without ushering Chris along, allowing the man to do as he pleases as he’s cut free from the leash the Harrison couple had held him to. “It shouldn’t be that far away” Kayla remarks, standing in the middle of a newly-paved road with her sights on the distant skyline, following the trail of black smoke and raging flames toward the middle of the mostly-vacant, untraveled-roads of Lancaster. | “You’re all surrounded!” Clayton exclaims, putting pressure on the bullet’s exit wound as tensions continue to flare, his proclamation not one that the armed militia he’s overwatched by cares too much over. “And you’re outgunned!” one of the brutal patrolmen shouts, standing beside a small group of well-restrained, poorly-fed, horribly-mistreated workers he holds beneath the weight of each lashing. “Face it, you dirty cunt! You’re not getting out of here!” the overseer proceeds to exclaim, unable to see the grin he earns from the wounded revolutionary, who reaches for the waistband of his underwear. “If we’re not getting out of here, neither are you!” Clayton proclaims, pulling a small, wooden stick from his boxers and striking its sulphur tip against the rusty bench he sits against. Her eyebrows furrowing, Kennedy listens to the man’s declarations and the many screams of horror and triumph that surround her, left to think of nothing less than the worst case scenario. Propelling himself off the ground as his bleeding worsens, Clayton makes his last stand and flicks the match toward a group of glass beakers, the tiny flame making contact with a bottle of nail polish remover whilst bullets begin flying once more. Struck three times, each in the centre of his chest, Clayton topples back and drops his weapon, falling to the ground to bleed out amidst a sea of horror and frenzy. Triggered by the death of their leader, those the man led in a fight for their freedom begin to take action with what’s at their disposal, firing at and attacking the men and women that watched over their suffering without interference or compassion. “Help me cut loose!” the woman that stands over Kennedy pleads, prompting the girl’s head to poke up before those that surround her propose the same request, begging for the teenager to free them before an ear-piercing gust of wind wafts through the air, an effect of the nail polish remover catching fire and bursting into flames, immediately beginning to fill the room with smoke. Having ducked below the tables for cover once more, Kennedy is soon hurried into action, her sights set on the way she came to break free whilst the fighting ensues.. In every direction, malnourished prisoners fight the well-maintained bodies that Lancaster employed to watch over their every move, whilst in the background, worker after worker rip themselves from the shackles to their labour and either join in the fight or hurry for a way out. Scrambling toward the way she came, Kennedy bursts through the door and makes for the front of the building, only to find a sea of vehicles already swarming the vicinity, her only feasible escape option thwarted by the backup each overseer had already called in. Forced to retreat back into the war zone, the teen girl stands in the doorway as the bloodshed ensues, a mad dash taking place in her every direction as time begins to slow for her, allowing a moment of planning to come over her. Looking at the layout of the warehouse, Kennedy’s eyes take from one direction to the next with hopes of uncovering a way out of the increasingly smoke-filled room, her search thwarted only by a pair of faces she instantly recognises from the crowd. Losing sight of everything that unfolds around her, the girl’s motivation for a quick escape soon turns toward reunion and she sprints back into the scene of chaos, hurrying past those that reach out to her for aid and over the bodies of the fallen. Hearing the bullets fly in every direction, Kennedy races through the devastation like a woman on a mission, hurrying to the back of the warehouse at a speed she’d never reached before with an eagerness to protect. Failing to stop in time, the girl slams into a table as her tiny legs fight for stay upright, her hip crashing into the workbench as her hands fumble around the restraints tied around her mother’s hands. “Kennedy!?” Alex proclaims, her face badly bruised and sliced up as if the inflicting point of an initiation. Paying no mind to her mother’s remarks, nor the gunfire and blood-curdling screams in her every direction, Kennedy shuts the sounds of war from her mind as she slowly untangles her mother’s restraints, freeing the woman to return to the open world before turning toward Amelia’s binds. “Kennedy, stop!” Alex exclaims, using her free hands to tug at her daughter’s shoulders, trying to hold her back from freeing her friend without luck, Kennedy’s refusal to leave Amelia behind made clear in her resilience. “Kennedy, we have to go!” her mother proclaims, her voice the only thing her youngest daughter can hear as the fixated girl’s eyes remain steadily-placed upon her friend’s binds. Finally pushed to her breaking point, the teen’s voice calls out to the woman her back is turned toward as her sights lift for what was meant to be just a single moment. “We’re not leaving her be-!” Kennedy declares, shouting over the sounds of chaos that fire around her before falling silent, failing to finish her sentence before her wide eyes freeze, her mouth hanging open as her hands immediately cease their attempt to provoke freedom. Knelt before her, Amelia hangs as low to the ground as her binds will allow her, not an ounce of life still held in her body, which sits before her friend riddled with bullet wounds. In utter shock, Kennedy looks at her friend’s body without the ability to look away, the final thread she’d untied allowing the rest of the restraint to undo itself, freeing the girl’s hands to let the rest of her body drop. No longer afforded time, Kennedy’s shoulder slowly begins to lessen its resistance, giving into her mother’s pull as she’s ripped away from the scene. In a dazed trance, the youngest Morris offspring is guided by her matriarch through the smoke-filled maze of blood and destruction, unaware of the true peril that looms overhead. Led by a trail of polish remover, the flames begin leading to a propane tank that fuels the building they stand in, its existence more of a threat now than ever before. Following a trail of her equally-freed contemporaries, Alex leads her daughter through a backroom and into the open field that soon eats the worst of the impending disaster. Without a second to hesitate, the flames finally meet their final destination, setting alight to the propane tank and allowing it to combust, sending a shockwave powerful enough to knock each of the newly-freed workers off their feet, and sending off an explosion that kills those within instantly. Still too in shock to process the blast that had struck her, Kennedy falls into her mother’s arms, the woman who’d nurtured her now wrapping her tightly within her grasp. Hitting the floor first, Alex rolls over Kennedy and covers her from whatever fallout may soon come, refusing to let the horrors that had confronted her scar the girl she’s sworn to protect any further than it already has. Within seconds, the initial quake ceases, the only sound emanating from the soaring flames that rise high into the late-afternoon sky. Not quite peace, but a sombre sense of serenity soon comes over those fortunate enough to have escaped with their lives, the mother and daughter responsible for their own daring escape no different as a wave of cars soon roll in. Without clearance from Lancaster’s overseer, the armed members of the Lancaster patrol and their NDF affiliates roll to a stop a short distance from the burning remnants of the warehouse, aware of what massive attention will soon befall the very place they occupy. Simply satisfied with having kept her daughter from a similar fate to the girl she’d spent the last few days being brutalised alongside, Alex holds Kennedy’s head against her shoulder and keeps her close, never wishing to let go. == Dire == “Ken, it’s Jaime” the woman remarks, pressing the headset of the desktop phone to her ear whilst she sorts through a stack of papers with names and faces across each one. “Listen, I know you’ve got plenty going on and you’re not too happy with mom and I, so I’m trying to respect that you want to be left alone” the chancellor continues, shaking her head in disapproval with each discarded page, “I just wanted to let you know that I won’t be home for a day or two, so don’t panic.”
Left just off to the side, a paper-clipped manilla folder sits with an abundance of loose papers still waiting for her attention, its contents the next in line to be explored. “And I called Cody a few hours ago, and he said mom came into town to clear her head for a little bit. I guess it has something to do with Chris or something, I don’t know” Jaime persists, failing to see anything of value in yet another document, “the point is, she’s fine. Anyway, I hope you’re doing fine. Take care.” Returning the phone to the receiver, the chancellor continues about her business with a tall glass of wine sat beside her, the glass it sits in already having been refilled within the last half hour. “Long night ahead?” Julia inquires, watching Jaime’s head lift from her business for a moment as the voice standing in the open doorway catches her by surprise. “I guess you can say that” the dirty blonde woman replies, leaning forward in her seat with both arms pressed against her desktop, one propping her up whilst the other sifts through each page. “What’re you up to here?” Julia queries, slowly approaching the paper-strewn desk with an eager eye for detail, her reply being given with total honesty. “I’m sorting through some records the NDF left for me” Jaime replies, discarding yet another page. For a moment, the doctor looks down at the stack of papers left by the side of the chancellor’s desk, squinting at the information detailed upon each page face. “Are these citizens?” the woman inquires, looking over details ranging from eye colour and ethnicity to employment status and past criminal convictions. “It’s everyone we house in the Republic and outward into the old city” Jaime answers, again refusing yet another loose sheet as she reaches for her glass, “at least, it will be.” “You do realise that we have electricity, right? You can just get these all in some spreadsheet. We don’t even keep paper records at the hospital” Julia questions, reassured of the chancellor’s sanity. “I have a copier printing more papers than I can keep up with. We may have the NDF and security systems up and working, but the grid is still too fragile to depend on entirely” Jaime responds, “besides, it’s easier to skim through papers than it is to keep track of who does or doesn’t stand out.” Pressing her fingers against the smooth face of one discarded sheet, Julia’s curiosity peaks whilst her chancellor remains hard at work. “And what is it that you’re looking for them to stand out in exactly?” the woman inquires, struggling to find a reason for her political acquaintance’s decision to keep herself from being able to leave the office. “I’m trying to find people that both seem like fits to be peacekeepers and a motive to smear my capital in blood” Jaime answers honestly. “And that seems like time well spent to you?” Julia quickly challenges, her words not phasing the woman who flips through yet another sheet of the stack. “It seems like time spent trying to keep my hold on power over a town constantly evolving before my eyes” the chancellor responds, another sip taken from the glass she’s more capable of considering a best friend now than she had been in past months, “if you understand the people, you understand their motivations.” “And here I thought you didn’t care about what the people thought” Julia replies, lowering herself into the chair across from the chancellor’s desk with confidence as the woman across from her looks up. “One whole public display of dissatisfaction later, and it’s almost like the ‘I choose an iron fist’ line was just that- a line” the woman quips, watching the puckered frown on Jaime’s face deepen as her eyes fall. “There are things more important than that now” the chancellor remarks, justifying her change in attitude, though not necessarily considering it a change for the best, “I have motivations of my own to look after too.” Matching the woman’s puckered lips, Julia lets a slow nod roll over her as she sinks further into her seat, allowing her arms to lay against the sides of her chair as the woman in the mightiest chair the Republic has to offer returns her gaze to the documents at her disposal. “Is that why we have tanks rolling through the street? Or men in camo uniforms on patrol throughout all hours of the day?” Julia queries, slowly regaining the attention of the woman sitting opposite her. “Hell, let’s stretch farther than that. Is that why the other half of Los Angeles we never had our hands on- pretty much nothing more than a burnt skeleton at this point- is held by the NDF?” the doctor adds, “what do those guys even want to begin with?” With a pause, Jaime’s eyes take toward the open spot on her desk between the assortment of records and the chair-occupying woman that sits in her presence, thinking of a reply to herself through momentary silence. “Something they can’t have” the chancellor answers, flipping through another sheet before steadying her attention solely on the woman sharing the room with her as she sits back in her seat, crossing both arms over her chest. “Why are you here?” Jaime suddenly wonders aloud, the question having dawned on her minutes ago, but only now feeling the need to make itself heard. “You’ve got a sea of new recruits in the hospital from what I’ve heard. Isn’t keeping them from performing surgery on a grape a bit higher of a priority to you than- whatever it is you’re doing here?” Angelino’s chancellor inquires, a question she’s not proven wrong in asking. “My brother and I own the building, but that doesn’t mean we’re the only doctors there” Julia replies with a smirk, one leg crossing over the other as her hands fall over the lip of the chair’s armrests. “Don’t you have something better to do with your time?” Jaime questions, still yet to understand precisely why the woman she shares the room with occupies the seat ahead of her. “I suppose I could go home and sleep, but that second thing isn’t something I’m very familiar with” Julia retorts, only continuing to puzzle the Republic’s chancellor. “Then what is it that you’re here for?” Jaime wonders aloud, the question ringing through her head like the thud from the crash of a drum’s symbol, “late night visits aren’t usually a thing people have for me without wanting something in return.” “What? I can’t just check in on a friend?” Julia wonders back with a smile, her head tilting ever so slightly to the side as her eyes lock with the chancellor’s, “you’ve got a busy schedule, a quite rambunctious little sister and plenty on your plate. Sometimes you need a friend to come in and make sure everything’s doing alright.” Lifting the corner of her lip, Jaime squints with a smile as her chin lowers, a subtle nod rolling over her as eyes keep on the ever-present doctor. “Is that what we are?” the woman inquires, met with silence as the medical professional waits for the added verbiage she knows lies just around the corner. “Go out to brunch and get our nails done? Meet up after work for drinks to talk about boys and gossip? Is that it?” she continues to ask aloud to no response, “is that it? We’re friends now?” “Jaime, I’m not-” Julia begins to reply with a smile, only to come to the realisation that her response isn’t needed or wanted by the woman she offers it to, the chancellor’s interruption only proving that her words were destined to fall upon deaf ears. “Because we’re not friends. I hope you understand that. We’re not friends” Jaime explains, the audience her voice is intended for sat in complete acknowledgement of the power imbalance described. “You run the hospital we collect crops from and send our sick to. I’m the chancellor that’s meant to make sure both of those responsibilities are met and undisturbed” she furthers, watching the slight narrow in Julia’s eyes take shape, “we are two women with a mutual interest in maintaining the status quo, and we use each other to do so. We are business partners at best, and that is where the buck stops. If there’s any misunderstanding of that on your behalf, it’s not because of me.” In silence, Julia looks into the eyes of a mentally-worn, physically-exhausted and emotionally-drained leader, one simply trying to ensure the undisturbed existence of her nation and the safety it has provided itself with. Behind the pupils of the tried and tested chancellor, the doctor recognises an increasing lack of care toward most of anything that doesn’t have to do with her role at the helm of the Republic, a lack of care she prefers not to test by standing on the opposite side of. “Understood” she simply replies, uncrossing her legs and propelling herself forward, leaving her chair before departing the room without as much as a second word. As her visitor’s footsteps across the marble floor just beyond her office’s door begin to dampen, Jaime’s head bows as she tries to settle back into her work, holding back the increasing urge to free her pent up frustrations as the next page in the long line of documents is returned to the discarded pile. Shaking and tense, Jaime’s hands press their palms against her desk as her eyes close and head tilts back, joining her body in sinking into her office chair as the pressure clearly begins to mount. Forced into retreat from her ever-growing duties, the chancellor reaches for the dial to her nearby radio and tries to calm herself, steadying each breath and subduing the sensation of pins and needles that run across the sole of her feet, almost as if her every step were taken over hazards. “And I’m sure this comes as no surprise, but the truth has never been more clear” a deep voice speaks through the station, the contents of its remarks yet to fully find themselves understood by the chancellor’s brain, which sits in an almost novocaine-state. “Your leaders are failing you. They’re playing the same game your institutionally-corrupt and morally-bankrupt politicians had just before the catalyst, and it can’t stand” the voice continues to speak, slowly earning the Jaime’s attention. “There is only one way to cleanse the Angelino Republic of this cancer, and it’s the price of what too many people aren’t willing to offer- the truth” Jaime hears spoken, turning the dial to raise the machine’s volume as she takes interest in what’s being said. “Therefor, in an effort to keep the peace, we are demanding the truth be provided toward Jaime Morris’ crimes and the Republic’s secretive ties to the New Democratic Front” the post-catalyst iteration of Max Headroom declares, “if your leaders choose to continue concealing this truth, then they will burn with the rest of the Republic beneath the eternal flames, all lit in the name of washing away the cardinal sins of a corrupt establishment and an irrefutably vile organisation.” Her expression overtaken by a vicious, fully-enraged visage, Jaime looks at the speaker to her machine as the interruption cuts off, returning the tune of Janis Joplin’s “Cry Baby” to the airwaves. Fuming, the chancellor sits in her chair overtaken by the urge to rip throats out and bring upon suffering to those that threaten her rule, both the ones she does and doesn’t align with. = 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 would stay low for a bit, Chevy. We appreciate you and all, but there’s no telling how this plays out” Clark remarks into his end of the phone as the father-to-be occupies the other end of the line. Covering his opposite ear, the peacekeeper’s speaker continues the conversation until a chorus of jeers erupt, an immediately-defensive group speaking through loud voices in demand for a cease on the verbal assault. “Chevy, I’ve got to go- take care and keep in touch” Clark interjects, cutting the man off before shutting the top half of his flip phone and turning his attention toward the bar’s entrance, where a familiar set of faces stand. “Where’s Clark?” Blake calls out, looking around the room before his instincts immediately take him to the liquor counter where the man stands, his grizzled expression hanging as his hand reaches for the nearest bottle of hard booze. “Am I in trouble?” the older gentleman inquires, his grey beard spotted with droplets of the same vodka he reaches for a new bottle of. “Eventually, but not right now” Blake answers, stepping away from Willy’s side as he departs the strength of his armed militia, taking a seat at the opposite side of the man’s serving counter. “It seems like you’ve gotten yourselves into quite the predicament making a fool of the chancellor like you have” the militant remarks, watching vodka spill over the brim. “You can’t make a fool out of someone that already is one, you stupid cocksucker” Clark responds, taking a long drink from his overflowing glass with a satisfied smirk on his face. “Mess with the bull and you’ll get the horns. Mess with the people, and the revolution will be bloody” he continues before interrupted, the remarks he’d been making added to by the foremost member of Jaime’s private detail, “mess with the chancellor, receive a bullet to the head.” Shrugging, Clark smacks his lips together and leans forward, refusing to show an inch of fear toward the group of individuals he considers to be scum just the same as the power that employs them. “You can’t scare a man by threatening to take away his life when he’s already lost everything a really, really long time ago” the amateur bartender remarks, a gesture his greatly disrespected adversary doesn’t refuse. “No, but when he runs a movement like the one you’ve got going on- and you’ve cornered the market on whether or not they get the right to feed their families- you find other ways to scare them” Blake replies, finally earning legitimate attention from the increasingly-less sober speaker, whose lack of full sobriety fails to keep him from understanding what’s being said between himself and the heavily armed opposition he faces. “I mean, come on. You can’t expect to smear the capital in your insignia and hack into the domestic broadcast feed without a little blow back, right?” Blake questions, immediately watching the defence spread across Clark’s face like a wildfire. “We had nothing to do with that bulls-” the server begins to declare, uttering the innocence of himself and his group to a pair of ears not only uninterested in their pleas for a cleared name, but well-informed of it. “Yes, you did. You approached the capital with buckets of pig blood and smeared the capital with your branding” Blake remarks, not yet finished with his recollection. “And as we currently speak, you’re hurrying away from the hospital where you breached procedure and gained unwarranted access to the broadcast system, isn’t that right?” the man continues, watching the confusion spread across Clark’s perplexed visage. “As a matter of fact, this conversation isn’t happening. I was never here, my men were never hear, and you didn’t get back here until twenty minutes from now” Blake continues, making his point gradually less difficult for the intoxicated speaker to understand. “Are you trying to tell me to take the fall for something we had no hand in?” Clark inquires, struggling mightily to understand the story being spun by the equivalent to his group’s meal ticket. “You’re tired of the chancellor’s governance, and have taken toward brazen public displays like these to get your point across” Blake remarks, “that’s the story we’re running with, and that’s the narrative we need to spin if you want any chance at taking Jaime off the throne, is that understood?” Pressing his eyes closer together, not even Clark’s lack of full-sobriety prevents him from noticing the remarks made by the man across from him. “We’ve both got a vested interest in seeing that woman get knocked off that pillar we’ve all been building for her over the last year and a half, and that interest won’t be met if you and these bottom feeders try to play ‘polite revolutionaries’” Blake declares, though not making his true allegiances known, clarifying who he doesn’t align with. | “Every week, they come by and load a bunch of crates into the back of this truck. Same time, same day” Kennedy remarks, walking directly between her two closest allies as they near the rear entrance to the hospital. “Ken, we’re both sure you’ve done enough research to know what’s going on, but that doesn’t make this any more feasible than it already wasn’t” Chevy responds, walking to the right of the teen girl whilst his wife walks to the child’s left, holding her hand as they travel. “I don’t trust him, and I don’t trust his sister. These deals are shady, and if this doesn’t help us find out where mom is, at least we’ll know what’s going on” Kennedy remarks, preaching to a choir that already understands the positives and negatives. “We don’t trust them much either, but that’s beside the point. We already told you what Jaime said” Chevy explains, immediately drawing the young girl’s ire. “Yeah, and I’m gonna believe what Cody says when he’s the other guy in this scenario” Kennedy cuts back, only for their forward progression to cease when Kayla lowers herself to one knee. “Honey, we don’t know what to tell you” the mother-to-be confesses, looking the teenaged girl in the eyes as her hands rest on each of her shoulders, “we hear what you’re saying, but you have to understand that it’s really difficult to follow some of the lines that you’re drawing.” “Kayla’s right, Ken. I understand why some deal between this place and Lancaster would appear unusual, but connecting it to your mom skipping town for a couple of days is a pretty hard stretch to make” Chevy doubles down, immediately noticing the disappointment in the girl’s face. “If this doesn’t lead anywhere, I don’t know what will” Kennedy admits, hanging her head as the couple that have become a second family listen to her with open ears. “Mom doesn’t just skip town. She didn’t even tell Chris she was leaving, which is how I know this isn’t all just in my head” Kennedy proceeds, spinning a web she doesn’t like having to create, but understands its importance. “We’re not saying it is, honey” Kayla responds, her motherly instincts already beginning to take form in the tone of her voice, “we’re just trying to help you understand that there’s a fine-” Interrupted by the tires that kick up dirt and rocks on their way around the corner, a white box truck nears the rear entrance to the hospital with surprising speed, it’s each stop sudden and each turn harsh. “Over here, come on” Chevy instructs, guiding his wife and their beloved sidekick behind the cover of a large bush off to the facility’s side, watching and listening as a timely soul steps out from the quartered-off section of the building. “There’s Chris- right on time” Kennedy whispers beneath her breath, each remark she makes catching the incredibly receptive ears of the captivated couple, both watching in wait with hopes of seeing the same thing their third party does, hoping for something that makes her drastic stretch less difficult to conceive. “How many!?” Cody calls out, shouting to the man that steps out to greet him as he hops out from the driver’s seat. “Ten!” Chris replies, earning a nod from Lancaster’s sovereign. As if given his seal of approval, Chris leads himself back the way he came momentarily whilst Cody follows closely behind, disappearing with the doctor for a few, brief moments. “Alright, Ken. If you’ve done your studying on this, what are we supposed to be keeping our eye out for?” Chevy asks aloud, refusing to disrespect the girl’s line of thought in a search to uncover exactly what she sees. “I don’t know, they’ve never done this before” Kennedy replies, immediately drawing intrigue from the man she responds to. “Done what?” Chevy wonders back, listening to the words the young girl speaks to herself in an effort to comprehend what she’s watching. “Usually, Chris walks out with a big, wooden crate on top of a dolly” the youngest Morris sibling replies, “Cody refuses to help and just stands there. Like, he goes out of his way not to help. This is new.” “Do you know what’s in the crates?” Kayla inquires, her attention kept on the quantity of the perceived shipment, unsure of what Cody would be picking up from the hospital of all places. “No, but they’re usually a lot lighter than they look” Kennedy replies, waiting with her peers for the return to sight the doctor and his town-overseeing trade partner will inevitably make, “the crate fell over one time, and Chris pulled it back up and lifted it into the truck.” Watching Cody press his back into the rear door and prepare to step out for a moment, a thought creeps into the back of Chevy’s mind and takes a moment of dead silence as the time to proclaim itself. “Lancaster’s self-sufficient. What would they be trading with the hospital for?” the man asks himself just loud enough for his contemporaries to overhear him, their eyes trailing in his direction for just a moment before the duo in question reemerge from their compound. “What the fuck is that?” Kayla gasps in vast intrigue, watching the men carry a stiff, elongated object through the door wrapped in a heavy amount of sliced-up plastic wrap. Too obstructed from the incredibly amateur covering, the trio watch patiently as one item after another is carried into the back of the truck, all ten wrapped objects eventually loaded into their ride bound for the town on the opposite side of the Angeles National Forest. Prompted into action, Chevy ducks out from cover the moment Chris and Cody return to the hospital’s inside, ushering for Kennedy and his wife to stay back and keep themselves unnoticed. “Where are you going!?” Kayla hisses, both clearly struggling with the fear of the man being caught. “I’ve got to see what’s in that thing before it drives off. Keep your heads down” Chevy replies, brushing off any interference as he pulls out of cover, casually making his way toward the truck. Stepping off the grassy hill and onto the unused side road leading to the hospital’s rear, Chevy sheds his jacket and folds it, leaving it behind a bright yellow fire hydrant before emptying the small amount of water he carries in a plastic bottle over his head. “What’s he doing?” Kennedy whispers aloud, hearing the amused sigh leave the lungs of the accompanying woman behind her. “He’s being Chevy” Kayla replies, shaking her head with a smirk, “he’s gotta cover all his bases.” His grey t-shirt soaked at the collar as his scruffy beard lets water trickle down it, Chevy makes his way to the box truck’s driver’s side before gradually descending upon its open back-end. Rounding the vehicle’s end, Chevy peers into the open chamber at the vehicle’s rear when the hospital’s entrance parts once more, releasing the doctor and his sovereign guest back toward their duties. “Chevy?” Chris calls out, an obvious surprise and worry at the man’s presence made clear and obvious in his posture, one that the unexpected visitor notices before even turning his head. “Oh, hey Chris” Chevy responds casually and with a welcoming tone, nudging his chin toward the open compartment with a curious look, “what are these? Fish?” Watching anxiously from their floral cover, Kennedy and Kayla hold off on their involvement, trusting the man to talk his way out of the situation at hand, though the youngest Morris sibling’s greater concern still lies undiscussed. “Uh, yeah” Chris replies, quickly stepping ahead of Cody as he tries to talk his way out of any further questions, “we have a few employees that go out and catch bass. It’s not much, but Lancaster pays well enough for the excursion to be worth it.” Nodding, Chevy tucks one hand in his pocket whilst letting the other hang by his side, “bass are pretty common in the fall months, right? I’m not really that familiar with fish.” With a shrug, Chris reaffirms the man’s nonsensical remarks and pats him on the shoulder, slowly walking him away from the rear of the vehicle as Cody follows on, their stroll and conversation proceeding on the side of the truck incapable of being viewed from the hill the circumstance’s third wheel came down from. “We should start going back before someone else comes around” Kayla remarks before immediately meeting resistance from the young woman beside her. “Fine, you head back” Kennedy responds, standing off her knee before setting her sights upon the truck ahead, “I’m going to finish what we came here for.” Without a warning, the teen girl steps out from her shady cover and parts from her chaperone, hurrying down the grassy hill whilst the coast is clear. Unable to stop the child from pulling away before the distance between them has already been made, Kayla is left to watch as the girl hurries to the truck’s passenger door, listening to the muffled conversation happening just one side over. With reluctance, Kennedy tries to open the heavy entrance before finding her attempts to be futile, her only way into the truck locked and inaccessible. With little other option, the girl’s mind concocts a plan- one not even she has full faith in. Peering beneath the vehicle to see the three pairs of feet far enough away to present her with an opening, Kennedy sneaks around to the back of the truck, peering into the dark, visibility-depriving box without certainty of what resides inside, though that uncertainty fails to breed within her a fear powerful enough to convince her not to follow through. With a quiet sigh, Kennedy hops onto the platform and slowly advances all the way to the compartment’s back wall, the mountain of plastic-wrapped products that sit at her feet presenting her with cover. Getting low to the ground, the girl shuffles herself into one of the truck’s unoccupied corners and props one of the many individually-wrapped items against her, concealing her from the sight of anyone who dares look for her. Her breathing kept to a minimum, the girl quietly waits for the conversation outside- one which she can hear with now-resounding clarity- to conclude. “Well, when you turn back to go the way you came, let Kayla know we wish her well and lend her our best wishes” Cody remarks, one which Chevy playfully laughs off in appreciation, his affable demeanour allowing the conversation to end in a civil and friendly manner, freeing the Lancaster sovereign to return to the truck’s end. Nothing out of sight to his eyes, the man reaches for the truck’s cord and slams it shut, locking the things at the cargo end of his vehicle- both wrapped and unwrapped- inside. Keeping her eyes open, Kennedy listens to the man climb into his truck and turn the key in the ignition, starting the engine up before slowly making his way out of the hospital’s backlot, his eyes solely set on returning to Lancaster with a safe and easy journey- unaware and unassuming of what sits one wall behind him. | “When you run out, you’ll come back to the pharmacy on the first floor and pick up a refill, alright?” Julia explains to a wheelchair-bound woman with a smile, hanging a stethoscope over her neck as the patient rolls off. “Take care, hun” the doctor concludes, patting the woman’s shoulder before turning back for her office, the friendly smile immediately fading upon her expression’s concealment, souring into a frown the moment she steps out of the walk in clinic. “And roll yourself off a cliff, you dirty bitch” the woman mutters beneath her breath, clearly taking as much disdain for her employment as her visage would leave to be believed. “I take it you don’t care much for the disabled” a familiar, yet unexpected voice murmurs from around the corner, prompting the doctor to turn back in a worry that ears her voice had not intended to reach captured onto her declaration. “Oh, it’s you” Julia replies with a sigh of relief, watching a crossed-arm Jaime lean against the nearest corner, a moto jacket wrapped around her body as she pushes her shoulder off the wall. “Yeah, I don’t really care one way or another” the chancellor remarks, curling her upper lip as she shrugs, “it’s not until they start telling you about how they became a cripple that they get annoying. It’s like ‘I don’t need to hear about your car wrapping around a utility pole, I’m having a good day.’” With a subtle chuckle, Julia continues to walk, both her shoes and the boots the Republic’s leader wears tapping along the linoleum floors on their way toward the doctor’s office. “I was told we weren’t friends last night by a pretty reputable source” the white coat wearing worker remarks, strolling forward as Jaime hangs her head toward the ground, both hands tucked in the pockets of her coat as she simply follows to sound of the woman’s feet, “so what can I do you for, chancellor?” Staying silent until the doctor’s office can be reached, Jaime follows the woman through the open door and immediately lowers herself into the woman’s chair, allowing her to remain standing through the duration of their conversation. “I need you to do me a favour” the chancellor responds, breaking the ice in the least subtle way imaginable. “Funny, I thought friends asked friends for favours” Julia replies, noticing the slight shift in the chancellor’s demeanour take shape, one of semi-regret for the declaration she made one evening prior. “But, I don’t really tend to do favours for people in general- let alone friends” the doctor continues, speaking whilst Jaime looks her in the eyes, patiently waiting for her to finish, “if you’re asking me of anything, it won’t be a favour- it’ll be a deal. So, what’s in it for me?” Smirking, Jaime sits back in the chair and plays around with the amount of give it presents her with in comparison to her chair at the office, both hands interlocking their fingers to crack the knuckles that host a great deal of tension. “You do realise that I can just tell you to do something under the threat of execution, right? Like- I’m the chancellor of the Republic” Jaime inquires, making both her point and her civility noted, “even though I wouldn’t do that, I still could if I wanted to.” “Yeah, I get that. I also get that I’m one of the closest people you have to a confidant, and of those people, I’m one of the few that actually still talk to you” Julia replies, her own leverage pressed upon the chancellor, whose title doesn’t change that it’d been the doctor she’d sought the help of. “You’re here on your own, not making demands, and being respectable for someone that doesn’t have to” the doctor continues, “we don’t have to be friends for me to be the closest thing to one.” The sarcastic visage falling out of favour as she recognises what the doctor describes, Jaime’s powerful posture begins to slowly subside. “Will you please just help me out here?” the chancellor politely requests, unknowingly shifting the balance of power between those occupying the room, one lending the medical professional leverage she didn’t otherwise have. Frowning her lips as a breath leaves through her nose, Julia’s shoulders hang as she puts on the posture she deems most unlike the thought that runs through her mind, giving into the courteous approach despite her own confidence being significantly strengthened by it. “You’re lucky I like you, Jaime” the doctor remarks, giving into the plea presented to her by taking one of the chairs typically reserved for her clients and visitors, “what do you need?” Hiding her smile as best she can, Jaime tucks her hand back into her right pocket, retrieving from within it a single piece of paper. “This is a list of the people I’ve found have the most motive to stand with the peacekeepers” Jaime remarks, tossing the paper to the doctor’s side of the table for her to inspect, leaning back in her chair as she concludes her statement, waiting for Julia to take from the note what she wishes to. “Whatever ins you had to the peacekeepers before, I need you to see if those are still accessible” Jaime explains, “I want you to hand that note to their leader, have him come in voluntarily for questioning, and see if he’d be willing to make a deal with me.” Following the request until the final part, Julia squints her eyes in confusion before returning the paper to the chancellor, calling into question her concerns before the note can switch hands. “Why do you want to make a deal with them? I thought the whole point of cutting off their rations was to create a viable opposition to you?” the doctor inquires, immediately watching the woman’s expression sour further, though not at her this time. “It was until Wade decided that it didn’t align with his world view” Jaime replies, clearly annoyed at the call to cooperation that she has to make, “now I’ve got to keep all sides happy so he doesn’t feel the need to get involved.” “So, this is what the NDF wants?” Julia replies, her confused expression still worn as she leans in her seat, staring off at the ceiling in thought. “The NDF wants a lot of things, but like I said- they won’t get some of them” Jaime answers, pushing herself out of the chair as the conversation draws toward what she believes to be a natural conclusion, “this is one of the things where I can actually see eye-to-eye on them with. The question is whether the ‘keepers think I’m too far gone.” Not wishing to dwell too much on the circumstances at bay, Julia takes from the discussion what she feels are most necessary to read into, allowing the chancellor to make it to the door before silence is broken. “So, can you get it done?” Jaime wonders aloud, calling the question out to the doctor for an answer, one that only requires a smirk along the doctor’s face to be given. “What is this?” Clark asks, looking at the paper presented to him whilst leaning against his tavern counter, the rest of the building flooded with his peacekeeper brethren. “You know exactly what it is” Blake replies, a stone cold expression worn on his face as he answers the question, not willing to play dumb with the man already a good few drinks in. Snarling at the context on the paper handed to him, Clark grimaces at the man and holds the page’s face toward the peacekeepers to read for themselves, a disgusted look held in his face. “This is the chancellor’s idea of cooperation!” the half-buzzed but fully-minded speaker remarks, spit flying off his lips as he calls out to the gathered populous. Upon the page, an abundance of names, some present and others not, are scrawled above a threat that he’ll come in willingly or face consequences. “And it’s the best that you’re ever going to get with her” Blake reiterates, regaining the attention of his drunk adversary, “she doesn’t care about you people and she’ll root out whatever descent she finds necessary. What she cares about is power and how to keep it, so like it or not- this is necessary.” “If this is necessary, why doesn’t she bring her air-headed ass down here then?” Clark inquires, quickly switching his interest from one question to another, “as a matter of fact, which side are you really on?” Without hesitation, Blake leans closer toward Clark’s face and answers the question without a shred of remorse in his voice. “I’m on the side that I know is going to win” the man says with unswayed confidence, “that side isn’t hers and it isn’t yours.” With his own brand of confidence, Clark takes the note and shoves it into Blake’s chest, lowering his eyes to the man’s gun for a moment before urging him to follow through on his position of power. “Oh yeah? In that case, fuck your cooperation” the tavern owner replies, swinging his hand across Blake’s face to a roar of cheers from his peers, “force my hand.” In many ways offended, disrespected, and aware of the man’s unpersuadable pride, Blake takes a moment to gather himself before doing as desired, unholstering the firearm from his side and taking aim between the drunk’s eyes. “Put the fucking glass down and get in the fucking car” the forefront detail member commands, his presentation immediately bringing a hush over the crowd, many of whom attempt to climb out from the pack in an attempt to overwhelm the guard. “Don’t move!” Clark orders, holding his hand toward the few that split off from their contemporaries at the moment of their attempt’s launch, his command the only one they’d be willing to listen to. “The last thing we need is to make this more than it has to be. There are bigger things in store for all of us now” the buzzed gentleman remarks, slowly lowering his hand as he directs his eyes toward the populace, “you all know what we need to do, and you all know how.” With a gentle nod, Clark lifts his hands in the air in a display of surrender, allowing Blake the unspoken allowance to lower his weapon. “It’s time” the unarmed, grizzled man declares, turning his back toward the armed man and beginning for the door, all eyes left on him as his hands fall whilst he makes his way through the crowd. Without another word, the man steps onto the Angelino Republic streets and joins a second fleet of militia detail waiting for him just outside. In a calm and orderly manner, the man steps into the vehicle’s backseat and joins the detail in their venture toward the capitol building, not an ounce of reluctance or hassle presented to the militia further. With a folder of documents carried in her arms, Jaime steps out of her office and begins walking with Blake, who’d waited patiently for her to prepare the descent into the dungeons below. “How long has he been waiting?” the chancellor inquires, prepared to speak peacefully and approach the closest thing to her opposition’s leadership since the man who’d taken her fiance’s life. “We arrived about forty minutes ago and have been waiting for your call” Blake replies, still playing the side that will benefit him the most, loyal to the call for the moment that stands. “Have your men ask him if he’s actually willing to cooperate or if he’s just here because he has to be” Jaime requests, not wanting to waste time on someone unwilling to fulfil their end of the barter at play. With the tap of an earpiece, Blake calls in his request before Jaime changes the conversation, redirecting their professional connection to one on a more personal level. “Do you have a family, Blake?” the chancellor inquires, a question too unexpected and out of left field for the man to answer immediately. “Uh, I-” the man stammers, trying to uphold his composed, stoic demeanour, though is incapable of answering any way other than honestly, “two kids and a wife, ma’am- and a dog.” Bobbing her head, the woman lets the conversation die there for seemingly no reason, neither dissatisfied or pleased with the response she receives. “May I ask why you ask?” Blake inquires, watching the smile form on Jaime’s face as she slowly shakes her head. “Sure” the chancellor replies, flashing her smile to the man as her face turns to look at his, “-but you’re not going to get an answer.” “We need someone down here now!” Willy calls back in a panic, his voice bursting through the speaker in Blake’s ear loud enough for the chancellor to hear, the mood between the two immediately shifting into a shared worry. With a sprint, Jaime takes the lead on her detail as she rounds the corner, carrying herself down the stairs into the unspoken bowels of city hall. Hurrying to the state of frenzy halfway down the dungeon’s corridor, Jaime squeezes through a parting sea of militia members and scrambles into the gruesome scene that sits before her. “Who was supposed to be looking after him!?” Willy exclaims, shouting at the various silent members of the group that all look to each other in hopes that one unlucky soul would be the first to speak up. “We didn’t have anyone watching over him because he came here voluntarily!” Blake responds back, his sprint not enough to beat the chancellor to the interrogation room, one that presents an immediate challenge from the Republic’s frontwoman. Fuming, Jaime’s eyes tear from one corner of the room to another, the unbelievable pool of blood that covers the floor having turned a less-than-innocent cellar into the scene from a horror movie. Self-caused with the use of the switchblade that lays in the palm of his lifeless hand, Clark’s abdomen wears the many tears, punctures and gashes he’d made to himself in the name of his group’s prosperity. “You didn’t figure that he could’ve had a knife on him when we led him out of the room!?” Blake exclaims, shouting an inquiry toward the many militia members that stand before him, the same argument from before used to justify their own inaction. “He came here willingly! There wasn’t a need for a pat down!” one man calls out from the crowd, presenting the three figureheads before them with an argument not worth having. “The better discussion to have now is where we go from here” Willy responds, cutting Blake off from interjecting his own opinion toward the militia whilst wiping his bloody palms against his pants. Not phased by the man’s suicide, Jaime’s attention is paid to what’s been purposefully left behind for her own eyes to see, a message that makes it clear her efforts to make peace will forever fall futile. Written in blood, Clark’s dying moments were spent warning the chancellor of the hell that is soon to follow her, one that will be waged by the peacekeepers and won in the name of provoking change to a system in dire need of one. “No answers, no cooperation, no peace without you gone” the words read, scrawled across the cement wall that his limp body lies against, a peace symbol scrawled in the space just below the statement and slightly above his head. Irate, the chancellor seethes at the display she’s presented with, her mind funnelling through many thoughts as one question lingers in the back of her mind, an immediate answer leaving the tip of her tongue to the question Willy had presented her with. “We stop trying to reason and start punishing” Jaime responds, truly setting truth in motion to her declaration of leading with an iron fist, efforts exhausted beyond the point she’s willing to put up with. “He’s made it clear that they won’t cooperate, so I’m not going to waste my time talking to a brick wall” the chancellor declares, looking at Willy before turning back toward Blake, his bemused face looking toward that of his direct superior. “We find them, we bring them in, and we give them a choice” she continues, her commands made clear to the man she turns her attention toward. “They’ll shake my hand, or they’ll die by it” Jaime concludes, living up to her status as chancellor and fully fitting the iron fist to her hand. == Dire == Handcuffed at the wrist, a woman is led out of the rear of a box truck by a large group of armed men, their casual attire differing drastically from the republic’s uniformed garb. Her face concealed behind the cover of a black spit hood, the woman joins a litany of others- most of whom struggle against it- in being sentenced to their undeserved, unrequested imprisonment.
Relenting to the will of those that beckon her toward their intended destination, the woman simply hands her head as she follows the guide that leads her onward, not a word shared between herself and the captor she resides in the control of. Grimacing beneath the hood, the woman reacts to the nails of the man whose hands hold her wrist, still feeling a lingering pain that she’d been forced to cooperate in the wake of. Barefoot atop the hot, sandy asphalt, the woman is soon led down a small, grassy hill before finally being freed from the autumn, mid-noon sunlight by the shade of a busy, bustling warehouse. “Wake up, Kessler!” a guard exclaims, lashing the back of a man with a leather belt, earning a grunt that far fails to reach the level of response most in such a scenario would bellow, implying it wasn’t the first time his sweat-covered flesh had been assaulted by those that watch over him. Though she’d initially been able to see the ground in light of the sun making the ground outside too bright not to see even from behind her cloak, the woman is now left in utter darkness, the ground she walks ahead left entirely up to those that hold her captive. “Heads up, people! Keep your fucking heads up!” another man shouts, earning a much louder yelp from a man whose back he lashes to a number of laughs, the small gaggle of armed patrol taking amusement in their display of power. As machines exercise their designed purpose in the background, the various chambers of suffering she is led through pass by one after the other, none any dissimilar from those she’s blindly navigated, the sounds of horrifying negligence sung like a twisted melody throughout. Finally reaching the culmination of her journey, a chain around the woman’s waist is tugged at by an extension that soon connects to the degrading belt-like restraint, allowing guards the pleasure of removing the cuffs from her wrists. Red marks worn around the base of her hands, the woman’s arms drop to her sides as the bag is ripped from her head, fully releasing a wave of white light from the overhead bulbs to her delicate eyes. Pressing her lids shut, the woman turns her head away, looking to the ground as her chin is taken into the hand of her captor, his fingers pressing against each side of her face as he pulls her eyes toward him. Looking at his light brown skin tone, bushy eyebrows, snarled lip and irritated eyes, Alex veers past the strands of dirty hair that falls in her face to see the visage of a man as evil as the surroundings they share, the torture in each direction presented to her incarnate. “Work” the man orders, not caring to waste any breath he hadn’t already expended before turning way to walk back the way he came, leaving the cut and bruised mother of two to fend for herself. Left only with the machine that sits in front of her, Alex stares blankly at the many cogs without certainty of how to use it. As quickly as her captor left, another arrives, his belt already swinging through the air as he steps through the doorway to the cramped quarters she’d been left in. “Aargh!” Alex screeches, falling to her knees as her already heavily-scratched back is met with the smooth, leather strap, her defenceless flesh left exposed in all areas aside from the bra and underwear her wardens had provided her with the decency of. “Work!” the large, pasty-white brute of a man exclaims, spit flying from his lip as his hand falls back toward the air on the follow-through of his lashing, ordering the woman to do precisely as he instructed. “How!?” Alex exclaims, forcefully brought back to her feet by the man’s hand, which wraps around the back of her neck and violently pulls her upright. With his free hand, the man pulls the lid to a machine down upon a trey of medicinal capsules, applying force gradually before the device just refuses to relent any further, this signal allowing him to release his hold of the handle and return the press to its overhead position. Without warning, the man yanks the plastic tray of freshly-pressed capsules off the machine’s surface and steps back, releasing Alex’s head after holding her face toward his presentation. “Get to work!” the man shouts, again spitting through the air as he walks off, leaving with the platter of pills as the mother is left to fend for herself once more, this time at least aware of what is being demanded of her. Wincing, the woman struggles to keep herself standing upright as she guides her hand toward a stack of trays just off to the side, each brief movement prompting her to wince in pain. Shaking, the woman’s hand hovers over the tower of platters before finding itself held within the grasp of another, the trembling in the young lady’s hand equally violent and pain-induced. Momentarily confused, Alex’s eyes lift toward the person that silently calls for her attention without concern, her eyes widening when she realises who stands just beside her. “They’ll kill you if you try anything” Amelia whispers, the look on her heavily-brutalised face one of great relief to finally see a familiar face, though one that comes at significant cost, “-but they’ll keep beating you if you don’t.” Almost failing to recognise the girl at first, Alex looks at the girl’s right eye, which is beaten into such a discoloured state that it swells shut, her bottom lip puffy and cut, and the side of her face carved by the blade of a knife with an almost surgical accuracy. Feeling her chest grow tight and lungs be deprived of oxygen, the imprisoned mother finds herself starved for words, incapable of truly registering the world she finds herself incapable of escaping. = 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 = As his right arm presses into the side of his chair, Chevy’s left hand wields a fork that unenthusiastically pokes at a clump of mashed potatoes. Seated just beside him at one end of the dinner table, Kayla gently wipes at the corner of her mouth with a cloth napkin to relieve herself of the barbecue sauce stain that sits in the meeting point between her lips. “What’s got you guys so quiet?” Jaime queries, wiping the corner of her mouth with the knuckle of her thumb as she places a set of ribs back upon her plate, passing a curious look to the man she sits directly across from. “We haven’t seen each other in months, yet you’ve barely said anything all night” the chancellor remarks, shrugging her shoulders as another scoop of mashed potatoes are taken onto the prongs of her fork, “what gives?” “We’re sorry, it’s just been a long few weeks” Chevy quickly explains, not wanting to encourage suspicions in the mind of the republic’s foremost voice, “we’ve just been getting into our own heads over the whole ‘baby-situation’ and, well- we haven’t really been ourselves.” From between her teeth, the fork is guided from Jaime’s hand to the side of her plate, a nod coming over her as Kayla remains silent, not something the chancellor is used to, but something she doesn’t question. “We’ve all got a tendency to do that, don’t we?” Jaime replies, looking back down to her plate as she shakes her head, taking a short sip of wine from her glass before leaning back in her seat. “The world we live in doesn’t exactly make it easy to paint things out as black and white anymore. Hell, it already barely did before the catalyst” the woman continues, disheartened in having to admit what she does, “bringing a baby into it only further complicates things. Don’t worry, I get it.” His hands folding over the plate that sits before him, Chevy looks at the expression on Jaime’s face slowly fall into disappointment, not one taken from himself or his wife, but something clearly rooted in something she doesn’t speak much of. “Everything alright, Jaime?” the man inquires, watching the woman’s eyes momentarily pass a glance at him as he proceeds with his question, “with how fast everything’s happened with the N.D.F, it’s understandable to take a moment to breathe” Laughing through her nose, Jaime smirks as her head bows, her dominant hand reaching for the glass of wine once again. “There’s no breathing around here anymore” the woman replies, pausing as she takes down her sip of vintage red varietal, shaking her head as her hands return to the rack of ribs, “not for me, at least.” “Why not?” Chevy interjects, watching the woman’s eyes take toward him once more, waiting for him to follow through on his counterpoint, “the people have food, you’ve got an organised militia propping up the republic- your biggest threats have all gone the way of the past.” Shaking her head, Jaime returns the dinner to the porcelain plate before her, wiping her fingers off as she leans back in her seat. “The threats never stop. Never. They only ever get replaced with new ones” Jaime retorts, passing a glance to the luminescent towers just beyond her hillside mansion’s window. “If it’s not the catalyst- it’s the shortage of crops, if it’s not Ryan- it’s someone else, and if it’s not the peacekeepers- it’ll be someone else too.” “Woah, hold on” Chevy interrupts, waving his hands in the chancellor’s direction to halt her from progressing, “the peacekeepers are only a threat because you shot one of them dead in broad daylight.” With a bewildered expression, Jaime lowers her chin and shakes her head. “He killed Jordan, who thought I was going to let him live after that?” the woman responds, “if anything, he’s lucky I didn’t drive a knife through his chest before he could even get hooked up to an I.V!” “That doesn’t change the fact that killing him in front of everyone was what made you an enemy to them” Chevy rebukes, not shying away from confronting a dear friend when it matters most. “I was an enemy long before I even brought Ryan into that dungeon. Again- they shot Jordan” Jaime doubles down, letting her hands fall into her lap, “-and had he not gotten between us, that bullet would’ve come at me.” Lowering his chin as his eyes drift to the side, the expecting man falls quiet for a moment, collecting his thoughts before his wife picks up where he’d left off. “Why did they come after you?” Kayla inquires, quickly becoming the centre of the chancellor’s refocused attention, “before they shot Jordan- and before all of what’s happened since- why did they come after you? Why was hurting you their goal?” Parting her lips, Jaime pauses before she can allow herself to respond, already privy to the true motivations behind the peacekeeper’s actions. Bowing her head, the woman attempts to silence herself before a set of knocks emerges from the front door to her home, gathering the collective attention of the already-present audience. Departing the dinner table to greet those anxiously waiting for her answer, the chancellor is followed closely behind by her married friends. Answering hurriedly, Jaime looks to a small grouping of armed security headed by Blake, whose composure is made resoundingly clear in light of Willy’s angry demeanour. “Chancellor, there’s something you need to see” the foremost armed detail remarks, standing at the forefront of his personnel with a rifle draped across his chest. As time passes, Jaime’s feet collide with asphalt as she joins Chevy and Kayla in climbing out from the backseat of an armoured, black SUV. “Who the fuck was supposed to be standing guard?” the chancellor asks aloud, her lead serviceman the first to speak out. “The building was unoccupied at the time. We had no reason not to send extra units into the bigger city” Blake answers, “I made the call to send troops off into downtown.” Letting free a sigh, Jaime lowers her head to keep her aggravation qwelled, trusting the man speaking to her to have made the right call- regardless of the outcome it’s left her with. “Do you see now?” the chancellor wonders aloud, stepping ahead of Chevy and Kayla whilst peering to them from over her shoulder, “-do you see now why the peacekeepers are a threat?” Astonished, Chevy and Kayla join their dear friend in looking out at the front of city hall, its large pillars and marble face stained in a crimson mask, the blood that coats its walls also adorning the many steps that lead to its entrance, though the ascending staircase is made to stand out- the blood it’s splashed with forming the questioned group’s peace-sign symbol. | “You’re a terrible driver” Kennedy remarks, stepping through the door to her sister’s hillside estate as Julia follows closely behind her, groaning at the young girl’s proclamation. “And you annoy me” the doctor replies, glancing around the empty room she joins the youngest Morris sibling in to find it empty, the cold food that sits atop three plates at the table making it clear that the home was left abruptly. “Are you good to go for the rest of the night?” Julia inquires, the visible disgust she has for potentially requiring to look after the girl for any longer than she already has, making it clear which answer she hopes for. “You still haven’t answered my question” Kennedy replies, stacking the used plates from the dinner table atop each other before carrying them to the nearest sink. “Which is?” Julia responds, watching the girl continue to trek from one side of the room to the next, cleaning up after her sister and the unknown company she’d recently shared. “Where’s my mom?” Kennedy repeats, the question drawing an eye roll out of the doctor as she struggles to handle remaining in the same room as the child for even a second longer. “Ugh. Kennedy, I don’t know” Julia responds, clearly irked by the incessant questioning raised by the young girl, “just stop trying to go into that goddamn cafeteria and you won’t have to see me anymore, alright?” Clearing the unfinished food into the bin whilst waiting for the tap water to heat up, Kennedy flashes the doctor an unassuming smile as she breaks out a bottle of soap. “I heard you loud and clear” Kennedy replies, taking the soap to the rough side of a sponge as Julia nods her head, pleased enough with the girl’s answer to show herself out. Without another word shared between the two, the doctor steps through the front door whilst the teen girl stands still for a moment, listening to the engine outside roar as the car it belongs to is taken back to the hospital. Her content expression fading, Kennedy turns off the water and returns the sponge to the side of the sink, her eyebrows furrowing as her unassuming face puts on a scowl. With intent, she marches across the room with a confident pace, taking the headset off the receiver and punching in the only number she’s ever known to heart. Waiting for the ringing to cease in favour of a reply, her eyes take to the empty dining room table, curious as to the company her sister had held. “You’ve reached Chevy and Kayla. We can’t pick up right now, leave a message” the voices greet, prompting the inspective young woman to reply in kind. “It’s Kennedy. Have either of you guys seen my mom?” the girl inquires, trusting the expecting couple to provide her with insight neither doctor finds themselves capable of offering. “She wasn’t home when I woke up this morning, and I think she went somewhere last night” Kennedy continues, “she left her phone next to her bed and hasn’t come home since. Chris hasn’t seen her and Julia says she doesn’t know anything, but I don’t trust a word that comes out of her.” Pulling the headset from her ear, Kennedy prepares to end the call before thinking twice, her hand hovering over the receiver before returning the phone to her ear. “I know we haven’t talked to each other for a little while, and I know you have a lot going on, but it feels like everyone’s pulling away from me” she speaks, a defeated tone taken, “-but you guys are my friends. If you can’t help, that’s okay. I just hope you guys can help me- ‘cause if you can’t, I don’t know who can.” Slowly, Kennedy sets the phone back to its receiver, her sad eyes falling as she retreats to her room, walking through the mostly-dark hallway on her return to isolation. | “What the hell was that!?” Chevy shouts, throwing his arms out as he enters the bar from the alleyway alone, looking out at a sea of revolutionaries, all of which peer back at him confused. “What happened?” Clark inquires from behind the bar, sipping on a glass of craft beer as he watches the man angrily stop in the centre of the room. “Don’t give me that ‘what happened’ bullshit!” the man warns, pointing his finger in the older man’s direction, “what’s with the fucking stunt!?” “Chevy, calm down-” Clark attempts to respond, gesturing for the man to have a seat as he steps around the bar, only for the accusation-flying man to refuse such a request. “No, I will not calm down!” the man shouts, his face beginning to sport a small patch of hair around the length of his face, “you guys are public enemy number one, and pull this shit? What happened to keeping a low profile!?” “What shit!?” Clark finally shouts back, understanding his lack of ability to cool the man down and instead opting to meet fire with fire in hopes of uncovering the source of his outburst. “The shit you pulled at city hall!” Chevy responds, immediately finding the speaker’s face shrouded with puzzlement. “What shit at city hall!?” the man calls back, stretching his arms out at each side with such speed that a small amount of beer spills over the brim of his glass. “The pig blood! And that symbol you smeared over the steps!” Chevy shouts back, his brain struggling to catch up to the realisation his mind is slowly coming to. “What the hell are you talking about!? We haven’t left this place all day!” Clark proclaims, watching the invasive gentleman fall quiet as he continues to speak, “we had a town hall run overtime and it just finished twenty minutes ago!” Falling to his sides, Chevy’s arms join the rest of the man in concession, “you didn’t paint that shit on city hall?” he asks, met with the same refusal he’d received upon arriving. “Whatever the hell you’re on about- we had nothing to do with it!” Clark remarks, his voice slowly coming down from the heights it had shared with the fleece-jacketed man, “besides, where the fuck would we even find pig blood to begin with? We barely have enough booze to hold me over!” “Well, I’m just assuming it was pig blood. The alternative would leave me with a lot of questions” Chevy admits, “but if it were real blood- y’all are the ones volunteering for the hospital!” Placing his glass on the bartop, Clark looks Chevy in the eyes as he closes the distance between them, lowering his voice to a more civilised level. “Chevy, we had nothing to do with whatever you’re talking about” the group’s speaker explains, escorting the man away from the group’s view as they make for the rear of the building to speak in private. “If you had nothing to do with it, then someone’s out to make you look worse than whatever Jaime already thinks of you” Chevy replies, watching the speaker’s head nod. “Yeah, that’s why we’re walking somewhere quieter than the middle of the damn bar” Clark explains, finally coming to a dark corner of the backroom before continuing the conversation, “now, explain to me what the hell is going on.” Pulling in a deep breath through his nose, Chevy composes himself before he begins speaking, trying to clarify his thoughts before attempting to put them into words. “Someone splattered some kind of blood all over city hall and painted the steps with the peace sign” the man explains, not saying much that the speaker hadn’t already gathered. “So someone’s trying to make us look bad, got it-” Clark replies, shaking his head as he shrugs his shoulders, thinking to himself momentarily before looking his friend in the eyes, “-what’s the big deal?” Pulling his head back, Chevy looks at the man with confused eyes, struck by surprise at the nonchalant attitude the gentleman takes to the revelation. “What’s the big de- what!?” the man repeats, “someone’s out to make you look bad, what do you mean ‘what’s the big deal’!?” Unable to do much more than seem less than amused, Clark honestly conveys his thoughts to the concerned visitor. “We’ve been branded as a group of evil, blood-thirsty revolutionaries ever since a sideshow gaggle of idiots that were with us decided to take potshots at the president- or whatever she calls herself now” the man replies, “is any of this really as bad as being known as the group that killed the girl’s boyfriend?” “He was her fiance, but I see your point” Chevy answers, letting his head fall into the palm of his head as Clark’s hand leads him by the shoulder the way he’d arrived. “Listen- Chevy, I appreciate you looking out for us. But at the end of the day, nothing’s gonna change the fact that we’re the bad guys in that girl’s eyes” Clark explains, deeply angered at having to say such a thing, “you and your misses are welcomed here as spectators only for a reason. You can’t play both sides.” “I’m not playing both sides, I’m playing the same side’ Chevy responds, eager to correct the man whose breath smells like the high-percentage alcohol beverage he’d just temporarily parted from, “-the only caveat is that neither side realises that they’re supposed to be teammates.” Stepping through the back door, the man looks back at the narrow-eyed Clark as he proceeds to shut the entrance, highly sceptical of the man’s claim, “are you absolutely sure about that?” “Yes!” Chevy responds without the need to think about it, refusing to believe either side is on the wrong end of the history books. “Everyone in that bar wants a system better than the one before the catalyst. The only thing different between you guys and her is that you disagree on who should be in charge of it” the man continues, again watching the hesitation sprout across the speaker’s face. “If that were the case, she wouldn’t have tanks in the streets right about now” Clark replies, his claim again running into reluctance. “She’s just as mad about that as you are, but she’s got no other choice” Chevy responds, the doubtful visage across the speaker’s face continuing to show a reluctance toward aligning himself with Chevy’s outlook. “Even if that were true, she’s settled on letting them make themselves at home in the same place they nearly drove into extinction” the speaker replies, a statement his guest fails to argue against as the door slowly shuts on the dialogue, returning the group to their secluded place of self-questioning and discussion. | “Sorry for the mess” Jaime greets, stepping through the open door to her city hall office, where she finds Wade sitting in one of the empty seats before her desk. “Yeah, I wasn’t too pleased to see that on my drive in” the man responds, making himself at home with a bottle of the woman’s wine, the glass he wields filled to the rim. “These peacekeepers you keep talking about- they’re the same people that killed your partner, right?” Wade inquires, crossing one leg over the other as Jaime takes a seat in her chair, pouring herself a glass from the same bottle her visitor had chosen from the nearby rack. “I think so. I’m not really sure who they are or what their hierarchy is, but I know there are more of them than I first thought” Jaime explains, “how many there truly are is the answer to a question I have yet to find.” “You ought to do so soon then” Wade quickly responds, fixing the silk tie that sits around his neck, uncrossing his legs as he stands from the chair, seemingly uninterested in spending another moment away from his leisurely activities than he already has. “If these guys are going to continue making a mess like this, you’ll find me cooperating a lot less than I already do” he warns, taking another sip from the glass before setting it upon the desk. “I need to know that- if I’m to maintain Los Angeles as a stable camp to expand inland from- it’s left with a leader that can make sure I don’t have to keep coming back to fix what she doesn’t seem to be capable of fixing herself” he concludes, turning away from the woman to begin his retreat for the door. “Is that a threat?” Jaime calls out, watching the man bow his head with a smile as he stops in the middle of the doorway, kept from walking off at the sound of her voice. Growing silent, the air between the pair remains tense as the woman steps out from her desk, slowly rounding it to present the man with the same image of the chancellor that has struck cooperation in most of the people that have come across her. “The NDF may have some things my republic doesn’t, but make no mistake about it- I will blow your goddamn head off if you overstep your boundaries” Jaime replies, watching the smirk deepen as the man takes amusement from her remarks. “No, Jaime- it wasn’t a threat” Wade answers, calling back to the initial question that had prompted her to leave her seat, “it was a warning- if anything.” Turning around, Wade adjusts his suit jacket as he pats himself off, clarifying his words to leave no error in understanding. “Jaime, I’ve let you stay in charge of this city because you’ve proven yourself to be capable of running it. In times of peril, in times of success- you excel. You’re worth more in that chair than having to find someone else for it would be” the man explains, “but with that said, you’re still there because I allow you to be. Your republic is just a placeholder for mine.” Clearing his throat, the man steps past the chancellor and makes his way toward the window at the back of the room, continuing to speak as Jaime’s eyes follow him from the front of the room. “Your people will eventually be my people. And when that day comes, I want to make sure they can co-exist without me having to lead public executions to set an example they should already be following by then” Wade remarks, “by that standard, it would be beneficial for you to start setting that example.” With her chin lowered, Jaime’s eyes press closer together as she watches the man stand before her window, a question lurking in the back of her mind. “And what if I don’t want to give it to you?” the woman inquires, prompting the man to turn his gaze toward her from over his shoulder, “after all- we may not have the manpower that you do- but we don’t need to cross the Pacific in order to regroup like you would.” Laughing through his nose, Wade’s head bows for a moment before he turns back, heading back for the woman’s direction with a smile. “You know that wouldn’t be a good idea- for you or any of your Angelinos” the man replies, his smirk slowly beginning to fade into a nostril-flaring scowl, “even talking about such a thing is a dangerous game to play, chancellor.” Without hesitation, Jaime removes a brass jacket from her pocket and the revolver from inside her boot, loading the bullet into the cylinder and letting it spin before meeting the base of her hand. “Dangerous games are the ones I perform best at” the woman replies, tilting the barrel toward the ceiling, “do you want to have a turn at it, or should I?” Unimpressed but clearly intrigued by the display the woman sports, Wade remains silent and allows the chancellor to make the decision for him. “Fine, I’ll give it a shot or two-” Jaime replies, putting the barrel to her head before pulling the trigger twice, adding a third at the end to the same, empty effect the first two had been met with, “-or three.” With a chuckle, Wade watches the woman remove the bullet from the weapon and return it to her pocket. “I don’t fear you, Wade. I don’t fear your threats, I don’t fear death, and I certainly don’t fear whatever vision for the future you’ve got in that empty little head of yours” Jaime declares, cutting the distance between herself and the man in half as she inches closer to his face, lowering her voice to a near-whisper, “but if you underestimate me in any way- I’ll give you something to fear.” Amused, the man bows his head for a moment and nods to himself, refusing to utter another word than what he’d already provided before stepping through the door and returning the way he’d entered, leaving behind the woman and her cosy office. Sliding the gun back into her boot, Jaime watches the man step off into the night as Blake and Willy stand closeby, noticing the humoured expression on the gentleman’s face and the content look on their chancellor’s, her warning issued in full. == Dire == Wearing a grin capable of making a lion pull away in fear, Julia stands with her hands by each side just a few, short metres away. Amplified by the torrential downpour that crashes all around the building, the unspoken tension cuts with ease as the women stand across from each other, both sensing exactly what each other’s motivations are. Slowly lowering her hand from the door’s bar, Alex turns the rest of her body toward the onlooking nurse, remaining entirely silent as she does.
“What’ve you got there?” Julia inquires, resetting her sights upon the key that sits in the door’s lock, genuine intrigue taken in its sighting. With a gentle pull, the Morris matriarch removes the metal piece from the mechanism it had sat within and presses it hard against the skin of her palm, its jagged teeth leaving marks in her flesh. “What’s behind the door?” Alex replies, immediately jumping to the question that sits on her mind, an inquiry that prompts the doctor to shake her head. “You don’t want me to answer that” Julia responds, her head beginning to lean toward one shoulder as her hand stretches outward, an open palm displayed to the mother of two, “give me the key.” Her rigid body only growing colder with the request, Alex thinks to herself quietly for a moment as water droplets continue to run down her hair and inevitably collide with the puddle below. Passing a glance toward her pressed-shut hand, Alex soon returns her gaze to the woman ahead, lips parting well before she actually answers the request. “What’s behind the door?” she wonders for a second time, once more receiving a hesitant reply from the Avallone sibling. “Let’s not do this” Julia replies, letting her open palm lower to her side for just the moment, allowing her to step forward with a less-imposing figure, “just give me the key and leave. We won’t talk about this again.” Less threatened now than she is determined, Alex gently shakes her head as she matches the doctor’s approach, taking one step backward to meet each step forward the woman takes. “What’s behind the door, Julia?” the woman asks for a third and final time, not allowing the question to go without an answer, one that prompts the smile and semi-inviting demeanour the scrub-adorning woman wears to fall, pushed aside in favour of an exhaustion with the situation at hand. Beginning to stare at the visitor with a scowl, Julia’s head straightens out as she looks to the woman’s hand, a slow look of acceptance coming across the doctor’s face. “Fine” she replies, looking the mother in the eyes and letting out a sigh, “let me show you.” On edge already, Alex watches the woman’s hand slowly lowering to her side and dip into her pocket, jingling a small set of keys before removing them to present, the key picked from all others matching the one she grasps. Opening her free hand to present to the woman across from her, Julia approaches carefully, reaching the assortment of keys toward the double doors as Alex steps to the side. Keeping true to her word, the doctor unlocks the door and returns the chain to her side. Pulling back, the woman leaves the doors for the mother to interact with, not stepping between the woman and her eagerness to have curiosities put aside. “I tried to stop you” Julia whispers, making room for the mother to rest her hand on the crashbars whilst waiting for her entry into the yet-unknown. Hesitating, Alex waits for a moment as she pushes the crash bar in slowly, both building up the courage to step inside whilst also trying to prepare herself for whatever situation may play out. With the force of a shoulder tackle, Alex’s time to weigh options depletes immediately, her body slamming into the door and crashing into the uncertain room as the doctor’s body weight crashes into her unexpectedly. Falling to the ground, the mother’s eyes immediately take to a set of empty cages off to the room’s side, barely able to make them out for what they are whilst only able to see them through the light of the moon that shines through an overhead window. Left with no time to think, Alex watches Julia approach with a syringe in hand, the expression of a woman enraged to the point of murder sported by the medical specialist. Her breath stolen beneath the woman’s weight, Alex takes her opportunity to swing her leg in the doctor’s direction, watching the woman release a hold of the plastic needle as she tumbles to the floor, crashing onto her side with a loud thud. Hearing her groans, Alex makes the most of her opening, climbing to her feet as best she can before hurrying through the same doors she was thrust to, the doctor not too far behind. No longer having words to share with each other, the women’s interaction boils down to a chase, one side of the coin desperately trying to flee the life-threatening scenario whilst the other attempts to fulfil her part in it. Back into the mostly-empty lobby, Alex turns the first corner and shakes off Julia’s hand, which grabs her arm for a brief second before failing to latch on. With the distance closing, the mother chooses to turn around and fight, looking to keep the clock from running out by giving herself a chance at adding some extra time. With the push of her hand, Alex shoves the doctor into the nearest wall and kicks her away, creating space between them that is nothing short of much-needed. With eyes on the front doors, the mother’s intended departure carries her toward the incredible rainstorm just beyond the hospital’s lobby, the headlights on her car still aimed toward the building. With a second wind, Julia matches the mother’s stride and soon exceeds it, gaining ground on the woman and lunging forward just as they near the entrance, her momentum too great for either to control. Wrapping her arms around Alex’s shoulders, Julia takes both women off their feet, their speed carrying them through the air as they fall forward, breaking the lobby’s entrance and shattering the glass that separated it from a rainy parking lot. Rolling on the pavement, both women come to a harsh stop at the hospital’s emergency entrance, their skin scraped and bodies battered by the force of their respective collisions. Wincing in pain, Alex grasps at her shoulder and groans, turning her body in an attempt to climb up once more, only to feel Julia’s weight take her to the ground yet again. The anguish of a torn shoulder labrum quickly fading, Alex’s pain is stolen just as her consciousness is, the sudden, stinging impact of a needle stabbing her in the neck forcing her to grow weary and dizzy. Still mustering enough strength to operate on, the mother tosses Julia aside and leaps off the ground, making it back to her feet before immediately feeling the injection’s effects take hold of her, distorting her vision as easily as it unsteadies her balance. Able to barely make out the direction to her car, Alex sets her sights on the only source of hope she can look to, soon finding even the headlights too dim to set her sights on. Putting one, final nail in the coffin that is their scuffle, Julia throws her shoulder into the medicated woman’s back yet again, this time shoving her into the hood of her own car and to the ground without a second wind to depend on. Leaving a dent in the black sedan’s front cover, Alex slides off her vehicle and onto the ground, falling limp as the drugs take her into a state of unconsciousness, unable to fight off the doctor’s will any further. Gasping for air as she leans against the vehicle, Julia lets the syringe fall from her hand, its bouncing rattle rolling along the ground and coming to a stop near the mother’s body. Having made her mess and being left with the responsibility of cleaning it up, Julia takes a moment to collect her thoughts and figure out where she goes from here. In due time, the woman drags Alex’s body and throws her into the trunk of her own car, taking her brother’s key from the woman’s hand before seating herself behind the wheel, driving off for the republic’s border as the night grows old, her parade rained on by a storm the nation barely ever gets to see. = 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’re you feeling?” Chevy asks, his wrist sitting atop his truck’s steering wheel as his sights set on the woman beside him, her eyes closed and the seat leant back. “Fine. I think the nausea’s calming down” Kayla replies, slightly losing her train of thought as the sounds of droplets crashing against the vehicle bring about a peace of mind she rarely gets to experience. “That’s good” the driver replies, taking his free hand and resting it on the back of the one his wife lets sit in her lap, their patience spent waiting for the arrival that soon presents itself. Stepping into the alleyway, Clark shields his eyes from the headlights that plaster the rear entry to the peacekeeper’s bar in an ocean of illumination, listening to the driver step down from his vehicle to meet him. “Is everything alright?” Chevy inquires, shutting his door and sinking his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt as his hoodie is soon fully drenched in rainwater. “Yeah, the bar’s fine. The people are alright too” Clark replies, speaking with the slightest smell of booze in his breath, something the man across from him keeps from pointing out. “In that case- what did they want?” Chevy responds, his massive shadow cast along the back of the bar, an imposing figure that at least lets the slightly-intoxicated peacekeeper spokesman lower his vision-shielding arm. “Us” Clark answers, a reply that the father-to-be had not anticipated hearing, forcing him to take a verbal double-take. “Us?” the larger, long-haired, thick-bearded man inquires, finally met with his answer. “They told us they’d supply the food we were getting cut off from and then some if we volunteered to work at the hospital” Clark reiterates, the extending of a pack of darts politely refused by the visiting man, “they were behind on recruits, so they needed to look for people other than the Angelinos. At least- that’s what they said.” “So they just came in to negotiate? Give you some food and get you to work at the hospital in the first place?” Chevy asks, watching the flame shoot from Clark’s lighter as he lights the cigarette he holds between his lips, “so, cutting your rations was just a ploy to get you to volunteer for the hospital?” Letting a puff of air leave through his lips, Clark shrugs his shoulders with little answer to offer other than the one he’s been presented with. “If there’s an ulterior motive, it ain’t very easy to figure out” the drunkard replies, tucking a single hand in his pocket as he stares off into the distance, “all I know is that we start work tomorrow.” Momentarily confused, Chevy looks Clark in the eyes as his passenger door swings open, his immediate interest taken toward the man’s declaration. “What do you mean you start tomorrow? You took the deal?” the man queries, watching the group leader’s eyes widen in an instant. “Of course we took the deal” the smoker replies as Kayla steps to the side of her husband, slowly becoming privy to what had been shared without her as time passes. “Chevy, those people have families to feed. You don’t think they could pass up something like that, do you?” Clark replies, not initially getting a response as the man looks off to the side, trying to clear his thoughts. “I didn’t expect them to refuse it, but it’s hard to see how little they think of Jaime and assume they’d just be fine with going to work for her- regardless of the return” Chevy explains, a gesture the man across from him can’t fully disagree with. “Listen, we don’t like Jaime. There’s not much more to it than that” Clark replies, again taking another drag off the dart he shields from the elements beneath his chin, “but you’ve got to put food on the table somehow. What other option would there be if not this one?” Bowing his head, the question sits in Chevy’s mind for a moment, only put aside when he nods toward the smoker’s direction and turns back for his vehicle. “What’s happening?” Kayla asks, joining her husband in returning to her seat and slamming the door shut. “Jaime offered them their food rations back if they volunteered for the hospital” Chevy answers, summing the brief conversation up as simply as he can. With her eyes squinting, his wife’s mind immediately presents curiosity, the declaration not appearing to her as cut-and-dry the way it seemingly does to Clark. “Didn’t they have an uptick in volunteers not too long ago?” Kayla asks, a recollection her husband knows to be true, “what the hell do they need more for? Let alone the peacekeepers?” Resting his elbows against his sides, Chevy shakes his head at a loss for answers, knowing what’s been shared with him doesn’t line up on face-value alone. “Maybe she’s looking to have something more to control them with?” Chevy suggests, as doubtful in the assumption as he is in the offer’s motivation, not certain he can even begin to make a well-informed guess on the matter. “Is that even what she wants anymore?” Kayla wonders aloud, letting out a sigh as she sinks into her seat once more, looking toward the ceiling as she continues to speak aloud, “it’s been a few months since we talked to her. Maybe she’s not looking to make enemies with them now?” With the subtle shake of his head, Chevy surrenders to his uncertainty, putting the car in reverse and backing out of the alleyway as he admits defeat. “The only sense that we have is that it doesn’t make any” he confesses, pulling onto the main road with the hope of returning to a warm, quiet home. | Sitting by the pool as the sun begins to set on another, less-rainy day, Kennedy loses herself in the pages of her book as she tries keeping to herself. Listening to a door shut in the front of the home, the girl continues to go about her day until a set of knocks soon follow, prompting her eyebrows to furrow. “Go around the back!” Kennedy exclaims, barking orders to the person at her door in confusion, having mistaken the car for someone entirely different than one who’d be requesting entry to the home. Following the directions he’d been given, Chris steps through the connecting entrance and makes his way to the backyard, looking around for a moment before setting his eyes on the pool below. “Sorry to interrupt” the man apologises, genuinely sorry for having to impede on the girls’ day, an obvious confusion over something that wraps around his mind. “I thought you were mom” Kennedy replies, setting her book upon the nearby desk as she pays her full attention to the visiting doctor, the source of her remark immediately prompting the man to reply. “Yeah, speaking of which- where is she?” Chris replies, watching the look of surprise come across the young girl’s face, “she’s not answering her phone and Jaime hasn’t seen her since last night. I figured she’d be here, but-” “She’s not here” Kennedy interjects, climbing off her seat and ascending the stairs to join the doctor’s level, “I just thought she’s been with you the whole day.” Shaking his head, Chris refuses the notion, peering through the large, glass windows that line the hillside mansion to see no sign of the woman, the only life occupying the property being that of the small child that stands before him. “We had plans to go out to lunch tomorrow, but the place had to shut down. I guess the storm knocked out the power and the food spoiled” Chris explains, “I’ve been trying to call her to reschedule, but I haven’t got an answer.” Unable to offer anything more than the shake of her head, Kennedy puts her hands on each hip and opens the home’s backdoor, stepping inside and leading the gentleman behind her into the living room. “I haven’t seen her either dude, I don’t know what to tell you” Kennedy replies, stepping aside to open the floor for the man to explore, “you can look around if you need to, or- I don’t know, write a note? I haven’t seen her either.” Showing his teeth, Chris lets out a disappointed sigh before shaking his head, beginning to walk for the front door as he pays the girl his parting words. “Just tell her to check her phone if you do see her, please?” the man politely requests, stepping through the front door before pausing, looking back into the home for a moment, “and if you need help or something, call the hospital and I’ll swing around.” Mustering an unconvincing smile, Kennedy nods in the man’s direction as the kind gesture falls on deaf ears, the door closing on his return to the car whilst the youngest Morris daughter is left with a large, empty house once more. The first two digits on the nearest clock reading ‘10’, Kennedy sits beside a light whilst reading her book, losing track of time as the minutes pass like nothing. Flipping through pages, the girl pays no mind to the night sky or the well-lit towers in the distance, instead reading the tale of a young man’s adventure through an unfamiliar land in the name of freeing those he cares for. Not a sound surrounding her, the ability for a pin to drop and send soundwaves through the room make it impossible for the soft buzzing in the near distance to not catch the girl’s ear. Slowly lifting her eyes from the fragile pages, Kennedy’s sights set on the dark corridors of the residence, not a single person having slipped through the front door other than Chris himself for the sound to emanate from. Her curiosity calling her to action, Kennedy sets the book to the side and climbs off the couch, an empty wine bottle taken into her possession in the event a weapon is called for. Not wasting a second of time, the teenage girl steps through the hallway in search of the noise, walking as if there were no reason for concern in her search for an answer. The final buzz coming in just as she passes the room in question, Kennedy’s sights take to the screen that lights her mother’s quarters with a dim glow, its display only remaining active for a few seconds before falling dark. Flicking the light switch, the woman’s daughter enters her bedroom, staring at the empty bed and at the pile of clothes her mother’s sleepwear is comprised of. Not finding anything to be out of the ordinary, Kennedy stares at the nightstand with a single, open drawer before glancing back to the phone, its silent occupation of the table’s surface striking her as odd, but for reasons she doesn’t quite understand. Finding Chris’ name on the phone’s outer display, the girl thinks for a moment before returning the phone to where she’d found it, her mind having been made up on her next course of action. Parking out front the lobby’s entrance, Kennedy leans her bike against the concrete column propping up the hospital’s covering, the ground just before its emergency room doors covered in tiny fragments of glass. Making herself at home, the girl steps through the mangled entrance and walks through the halls, taking one long stretch of hallway after another before stumbling across a familiar sight, her travels having taken her back to the mysterious set of double doors. With furrowed eyebrows, Kennedy looks to the crash bar with interest and turns her back to what she believes is an empty lobby, unaware of the quiet set of feet that step out from around the nearest corner. Pushing the bars in to no avail, the youngest Morris sibling finds reluctance from the locked doors, prompting the voice behind her to call out for attention. “Can’t sleep, Ken?” Julia wonders aloud, watching the small girl turn to look at her, not showing an ounce of fear or strife. | “A glass of wine, please” Jaime replies to the waitress taking her order, pinning her hair behind her ear as she reads from the menu, her right leg crossed over her left. “And for you, sir?” the server inquires, turning her attention toward Wade as he parts his eyes from the laminated registry of courses. “I’ll have your oldest merlot” the man replies, flashing the woman a half smile before returning his attention toward the menu, the woman’s heels tapping along the ground as she departs. “Do you go out to dinner often?” Wade inquires, unravelling his silverware from the cloth they were housed in, watching Jaime read through the assortment of meals she holds in her lap. “No, I usually have dinner with my family” the woman answers honestly, setting the menu aside as she takes a sip from the nearest glass of water, “why do you ask?” Adjusting his tie, the New Democratic Front’s founder bows his chin toward the woman’s apparel, her casual outfit out of place for the establishment. “I figured you’d have run out of formal dresses to show up to a place like this in a t-shirt, jeans and a jacket” Wade replies, watching the republic’s chancellor squint for a moment, slightly offended. “I’m sorry I was never the ‘stick up my ass’ politician type” Jaime retorts, earning an amused chuckle from the man across from her, “I don’t usually care for places like these.” “Well, when I asked where you’d prefer to have dinner, why did you reply with here?” Wade inquires, a smirk of curiosity adorning his face. “It’s the closest place within walking distance to city hall” Jaime replies, shrugging as she admits to having very little alternative reason. “It’s a good reminder, though. A nice little look into what’s been able to happen in the republic, isn’t it?” the chancellor inquires, watching the man’s head fall as his smile is taken with it. “You’ve done a fair enough job at keeping Los Angeles afloat, yes-” Wade responds, purposefully referring to it by the former title, “-that’s why we’ve kept you around.” Parting her lips to reply, Jaime holds her thought as the waitress returns with their requested drinks, a pen and pad in hand to jot down their orders. “I’ll have the cooked salmon with a side of asparagus, thank you” Jaime remarks, bowing her head toward the pad as her friend-via-circumstance takes his turn to order. “I’ll have the twelve-ounce steak cooked medium rare” Wade replies, quickly sliding his menu to the centre of the table as Jaime politely hands hers off to the uniformed server, an appreciative smile given to her. “You don’t get to choose whether or not I stay around, let’s get that clear” Jaime resumes her thought, the intrigued expression on the N.D.F founder’s face reading of a mix of displeasure and amusement. “You can call yourselves whatever you want and told guns around until the sun comes up, but the Angelino Republic is my domain” the chancellor declares, putting her finger to the surface of the table, “and if you were to try and take it from me, I’d make sure you’d stand to gain nothing.” “Jaime, the need for baseless threats is futile” Wade quickly interrupts, holding his hands toward the woman’s face as his demeanour adjusts, putting forward an affable and cooperative expression in the face of presumed hostilities. “You are the chancellor, this is your Republic, and I’m not launching some campaign to have you removed from your post” the man confesses, subtly leaning back in his seat as he places his hands down, “-that said, there are things we’d like to see you improve.” With a glare, the woman’s head turns toward the side just slightly, looking to the man out of the corner of her eye. “From what I’m hearing, you’ve got some issues with an underground group out here” Wade continues, watching the chancellor’s head dip and nod as he resumes speaking, “whilst we’re not too enthused about the ‘iron fist’ display you put on a few months ago, we understand where it comes from. We just want to know it’s not something to be greatly concerned with.” “The peacekeepers are taken care of. I’m using them to take a page out of your book” Jaime replies, immediately watching the arch in Wade’s eyebrow take shape, his intrigue never lessening as far as the chancellor is concerned thus far. “Starve the peacekeepers, make them the enemy in the eyes of the people that we keep fat and happy, and both sides go to war with each other instead of me” the woman remarks, flashing a smile toward the man who’d been doing much the same to her throughout the night. “Is that what you think we did?” Wade inquires, the look in the eyes of the woman across from him insinuating just that. “No. We simply took the stupidest from both sides and turned them into a reliable voter base” Wade refutes, placing his hand to the side of the empty plate that sits before him, “we were constantly attacked- getting away unscathed was never the point. We needed to make sure we had people to defend us to the death whenever those attacks came around.” “Is that why you poisoned the water system?” Jaime quickly interjects, the question one that prompts the man to bow his head, a more obvious disappointment taken from the accusation. “I never poison the well, so to speak” Wade argues in his favour, his head still facing downward as his eyes look up at the woman across from him. “The point was population control, not mass-tragedy” the man continues, making himself heard with profound clarity, “what happened with Project 1172 was accidental.” “Is that what you’ll tell the others when they come looking for you?” Jaime inquires, cutting the man off with the same haste he had just seconds prior, “we both know you don't have all the time in the world at your disposal.” “That’s why I’m here” Wade responds, matching the woman’s quick interruption with one of his own, the air growing still and quiet the moment he speaks. “Response will be harsh and violent. Other nations will immediately look at us to repay what was never our intention” the man continues, deconstructing his motivations in a precise and easily understandable way. “If they are presented with a weak N.D.F, they will come at us for everything we have. We will be forced into extinction and people like me will be the first to have their heads removed” Wade explains, looking Jaime in the eyes as he nears his point, “but presence on the mainland- presence in your republic- it will show the rest of the world that we’re not down for the count just yet.” “So this is all just a way to save your ass?” Jaime refutes, the suggestion she’d taken from the man’s words quickly argued against. “No. This is a way to make sure you and I- just like everyone that looks up to us for leadership and support- have a world to live in past today and tomorrow” Wade concludes, “I weeded out all the corrupt, partisan hacks because I knew what they would use 1172- er, the catalyst- to push. I wouldn’t let things be any worse than what they were.” “So you’re a martyr?” Jaime concludes, unimpressed with the speech the man provides to her, one that she can’t tell whether or not to perceive as genuine. “Someone that- while yeah, used to be that same corrupt hack- doesn’t feel that way anymore?” the chancellor continues, trying to dig further into the skin to see how far she can get before blood is drawn, “-someone who finally saw the error of his ways and wants to do good now that he’s wiped out, what? Half the population?” “Project 1172 was not my plan, but yes-” Wade replies, finding common ground with the woman as the server returns with two plates, quietly setting them before the people she assumes she’s better off not interrupting. “-yes, I want to do good. That starts here-” the man concludes, passing a glance at the exquisite restaurant they sit within, “-in the Angelino Republic.” Though his words speak tales she struggles to assume are genuine, Jaime can’t help herself but question the man’s motivations. “I don’t believe you” she responds, looking the man in the eyes as his sombre expression slowly turns into a devious smile, one that accompanies him as he leans back in his seat. “And you shouldn’t” Wade replies, picking his utensils up and cutting into his dinner, pointing the prongs of his fork toward the woman’s plate, “eat up.” Her lip curling, Jaime takes the glass of red wine into her hand and takes a sip from the cup, stepping out of her seat and turning for the way she came. “Ms. Morris-” Wade calls out, stopping the woman’s departure after a few seconds of letting the display play out, allowing him a moment to chew his first bite, “-our military is still the strongest in the world, our navy is top-notch, and we still command most of what’s left of the western world. Of course they won’t retaliate.” Nostrils flaring, Jaime takes another sip from her glass before turning back, looking at the man with inquisitive eyes as she returns to the table, though not intending to retake her seat. “What makes you think I won’t?” the woman queries, setting her drink back on the table as she presses both hands to each side of her plate. “Because you’re smarter than that” Wade quickly answers, this reply both genuine and honest, “you could see through that thick pig shit I just spewed off to you with flying colours. I know I made it obvious, but that’s still impressive.” “Then what do you really want?” Jaime counters, locking eyes with the man before standing straight up, waiting for his answer. Slowly chewing his next bite before staring off into the distance, the man answers with one word before chewing the chunks of meat that sit between his teeth, “everything.” Reaching for a moist towelette, Wade wipes the corner of his mouth before pressing his elbow into the table, keeping his eyes on the woman’s own as he speaks. “Project 1172 introduced the people that are still alive to a very different, entirely new world than the one we’ve left behind” the founder explains, “it’s honestly quite telling that Los Angeles would be one of the few pillars it left standing.” Remaining quiet, Jaime gathers all that she can from the man’s remarks, noticing the egotistic and power-hungry desires that flood through the man’s mind, his idea of a new world introducing the hurdle that stands before her republic. “People have a duty to serve their superiors. It’s why we built businesses to the blueprint of empires. One person on top, a million little soldiers at the bottom, and a few, good men in the middle” Wade concludes, “I’m the one on top.” Grimacing, Jaime shakes her head in refusal, downing the rest of her wine before throwing the glass to the ground, allowing it to shatter whilst her opposition and forced-ally remains unimpressed at the display. “Is this outburst supposed to enlighten me to some greater truth you’re hiding?” Wade queries, genuinely looking for an answer that comes in the form of the chancellor’s headshake. “I’ll play nice with you while I have to, but don’t get this twisted- you and I are not on the same side” Jaime declares, a revelation that comes as a surprise to neither patron. “If you try to replace me, I’ll make sure you feel every last bit of fight these people- my people- have to offer” the chancellor concludes, slamming her fist upon the table and pulling away to leave, “this is my republic.” Walking for the door, the woman’s attention is called for by the man once more, her eyes glaring at him from over her shoulder as her hand rests on the handle to the front door. “I just want you to remember, chancellor- you have no power here as it is. I feed your people, I clothe your people, I keep them supplied with gas and protected with men on the ground” Wade explains, “as far as your republic goes, it is to me exactly what you are to me- a puppet.” Seething, the woman’s eye twitches as her breathing grows heavy, nearly taking the form of a growl as the founder concludes his thought. “It’s time to give up on your dreams of being the one at the top. There’s nothing wrong with being one of the good men in the middle-” Wade concludes, looking at Jaime’s reflection in the glass panels of the door she stands at, “-start solidifying your place there before you find yourself knocked to the bottom... as just another little soldier.” Not wasting another moment, the woman leaves her salmon to cool as she steps through the door, re-entering the Angelino Republic as her apparent superior remains behind, enjoying his meal and a night on the town to himself, treated to luxuries just the same as he anticipates receiving when his vision of the new world takes shape as described. == Dire == -> October <-
“May glory befall the Republic,” Waving in a slight breeze, a bright, red flag waves atop what once stood as Los Angeles’ city hall, but now hosts the regime that looks after a nation of its own creation. Streaming out from a white and black sphere near the flag’s centre, rays of gold streak across the red background in a representation truly unique to that of the republic, giving colour to a day otherwise cast with dark, stormy clouds. Behind her desk, Jaime sits with a paper in hand, reading a long list of names that stretch from the page’s top to its bottom. Letting a sigh leave her lips, the chancellor leans back in her seat and places the document atop her desk, looking past it to the woman across from her. In silence, Julia stands with her hands to each side, waiting patiently for the woman whose orders she operates on to speak. “May she stand in spite of those who did her wrong,” Pushing loose hair behind her ear, Amelia digs her knuckles into the damp rag she runs across a coffee-stained countertop, fighting against the tight, yellow waitress outfit she’s dressed in to get as deep into the issue as needed. With the sound of a bell, her eyes take to the establishment’s entrance, watching a large man with a familiar face enter, not a soul sharing the dining room with them. “I’ll be right with you” the woman cheerfully remarks, passing the man a smile as she sinks her knuckles further into the rag, squinting her eyes as she grinds into the stain before her vision is cut off behind the weight of a second damp cloth. Struggling, Amelia kicks her feet as the man hoists her off the ground, holding her in the air as he smothers her with the cloth, quickly feeling the tussle cease as she slips into unconsciousness without a set of eyes to notice. “May glory befall the Republic,” Departing his counter with a steaming cup of coffee in his hand, Wade makes the trek across his living room and to the nearest window overlooking much of a once-lifeless Los Angeles, now occupied by various people and vehicles. Tucking a granola bar into the pocket of his sweatpants, the man digs his toes into the soft, fur carpet that lines his floors as a satisfied smirk comes over his face. Surrounding the charred remains of a skyscraper that no longer burns into an abandoned sky, those who’d once looked to the city for refuge in the face of refusal from the republic now occupy its streets, walking amongst the city as if no different from the sovereign nation. Alongside pedestrians, vehicles with the branding of an American flag represent a much different overarching force, one emblazoned with the name of ‘the New Democratic Front’. “May those she loves never stop singing her song,” Staring out the window of her room in what once stood as her daughter’s hillside mansion, but now claims the title of the family’s new home, Alex turns her attention away from the dark skies in favour of the distant towers, which shine once more- restored to their former glory. “Are we sight seeing out here?” Chris asks with an approachable smile, his shirtless chest pressing against the woman’s t-shirt clad figure. With a smile, Alex turns around and presses her lips to those of her boyfriend’s, feeling his arms wrap around her as they look into the distance together. “Just a little bit” the woman whispers, sharing a laugh with the man whose chin nestles into her neck. “May glory befall the Republic” The peacekeepers continue to sing, their stowaway bar crowded to near-maximum capacity as their numbers prove to have grown greatly, the souls that surround the cramped corridors singing their song for each other to hear. Still torn by the war that had ripped through many moons prior, the streets they occupy remain barren, still standing as the dark side of the Angelino Republic’s history. “May justice befall those who smother her name,” On the porch of his storefront, Cody nods his head toward a small group of armoured militants that step past him, still branding the American flag on their shoulders, whilst their backs sport the white print of the N.D.F. Letting his smile settle a slight amount, the man watches the small gathering continue to walk for a few extra paces before gently taking a swig from his cup of coffee. Beside him, the republic’s red, white and gold colours fly with pride beside his establishment’s entry, his allegiance not necessary to sacrifice in the face of old world occupation. Rinsing out a glass in a large, wooden bucket just a short distance away, Jasmine tends to her bars’ utensils and platters with a curious look, squinting in Cody’s direction unbeknownst to him, not taking a liking in his demeanour. “May glory befall the Republic,” Walking with the rest of her peers, Carly passes what remains of the central LA tower and its burnt exterior, listening to the various voices and roaring engines pass her by. Plastered on windows of buildings they’d not assumed control of just months ago, stickers and markings of the Angelino Republic bare a presence across the entirety of Los Angeles, its influence having spread much like the wildfire that had destroyed much of the city she currently walks in such a short amount of time. “May those she loves forever love her the same,” Weak and frail, Clayton’s face drips sweat as he struggles to turn the press a piece of leather is settled into. “Pick up the pace, 436!” a casually-dressed man with a semi-automatic weapon shouts, slapping the man on the back with a stinging force. Groaning and wincing, Clayton falls to his knee, which wears bruises much the same to the ones that appear across his half-naked body, his privates only covered by a pair of dirty boxers. Pressing his teeth together, the man pushes himself off his knees with all his might and pushes the press forward, compressing the leather with a sigh as he struggles to live yet another day. “Live or die, fight with pride- she stands tall,” Sitting in a library, Kennedy’s eyes stretch from one side of a book to the next, reading each line silently in her head as she soaks up each word. Completely alone, the young woman reads at her own discretion, making quick work of the hefty book she sits before, keeping herself aware of what is to come through the decree of what already has. “Heart beating- no retreat in the face of war,” “Cut them off” Jaime finally answers, bowing her head in Julia’s direction as she finalises her decision, “every single one of them, I don’t care how many. Whoever’s a part of it, give them enough to survive and that’s it.” Sliding the document across the table, the chancellor relinquishes possession of the list of known peacekeepers back to the woman that approached her with it, remaining assured in her decision of ruling with an iron fist. “Should I just take them all and give them to the volunteers?” Julia inquires, waiting for a reply that the nonchalant shrug from the chancellor suggests isn’t important. “Do whatever you want with them. Throw them away, burn them, give them out- whatever” Jaime replies, making her only demand toward what’s done with the rations known, “-just don’t give them to the peacekeepers.” “Glory, Glory to the Republic...” Hiding in their stowaway, the peacekeepers remain defiant in the face of adversity, not allowing the iron fist that rules them to be left without something durable enough to withstand the blow. Together, they form a community that stands just as defiant as the nation they devote their love to, one that keeps to the shadows to avoid being vilified in the light. Sharing a seat amidst the sea of dissatisfied citizens, a single couple shares the same sentiment as those that surround them, though they could never risk letting it be known. Her pregnancy not yet beginning to show much, Kayla sits beside her husband, eyes directed toward the man at the very centre of the group, their lips parting to join those around them in bringing the anthem to its conclusion, their agreement with the cause just as hidden as they are. “...Or may she fall defiant forevermore.” = 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 = “This isn’t right, Clark!” a man exclaims from within the cramped corridors of the long-abandoned bar, his devastation resoundingly clear. “Of course it’s not!” the man in questions responds, forced to speak over a chorus of additional voices, all barking for the same attention. “I understand all of your frustration, but it’s not going to change” Clark explains, the many voices of disapproval making their thoughts clear through collective groans, “Jaime’s made her decision on us, and she’s not changing her tune.” Angry and bitter, the group begins to speculate amongst themselves away from their leader’s ear, individual conversations being had amongst a crowd of others, both similar and dissimilar alike. “For those of you who haven’t had your rations limited, I ask that you share with the group as we find a solution for this mess” Clark announces, prepared to leave the conversation there before another set of voices call out from the gathering, finishing each other’s thoughts. “We already know how to fix this!” a woman exclaims, the same conclusion she was going to make uttered by a masculine voice on the other side of the room, the answer bringing an agreement amongst them, “we kill her!” Shaking his head in refusal, Clark waves his hands at the raucous crowd in hopes of settling the hostility, though more than understanding behind its motivation. “And what happens after that, Jared?” the man inquires, calling out to the source of the declaration, “someone else becomes chancellor, follows the same rules she set, and we get the same result with even more blood on our hands and less food on our plate!? Is that what you want!?” Met with silence and additional sighs of discontent, Clark fans the group away from the scene of their discussion, not wanting anything more to do with the conversation than what he’d already heard. “Everyone go home, come back tomorrow and we’ll speak with a clear head” the man proclaims, lowering his voice to keep his follow-up beneath his breath, “let’s hope that’ll help with the empty stomachs.” Reaching for a near-empty bottle of scotch, Clark takes a plastic cup in hand as his attention is called for by a much more friendly-sounding man than what he’d been hearing from throughout the day. “You got a second to talk?” Chevy asks aloud, his now-wife standing closely beside. With raised eyebrows, the disgruntled leading voice of the peacekeepers turns himself around and takes a seat near the bar, pouring himself a small cup of booze. “Yeah, what’s up Chevy?” the man asks exhaustedly, feeling deprived of the energy to even speak with the slightest hint of enthusiasm, a mood the couple takes clear notice of. “Well, I just wanted to know- how did they find out?” the expecting father inquires, both he and Kayla wearing large, black jackets with their hoods halfway over their heads, “it’s not like you guys are running around handing out flyers.” Sucking on his tongue as the first shot of liquor runs down his throat, Clark hangs his chin low for a moment, staring at the floor as he shuffles through his thoughts, lacking the energy to care much for the reactions his questions result in. “I’m not sure, Chevy- but I’m sure some people talk” the man replies, slowly glancing up to look each side of the pair in the eyes, his suspicion unwavering, “you wouldn’t happen to know who those people are, do you?” Almost instantly shaking his head whilst dropping his eyes, the man responds in kind. “I already told you, we haven’t talked to Jaime in months. I don’t even think she knows we got married yet” Chevy replies, answering with absolute honesty, “and even if we had said anything, it’d only be a matter of time before some of you would find out. Do you really think I’d bring my pregnant wife here if there was a chance any day could see us beaten with clubs?” Scoffing, Clark lets out a laugh as he pours himself another drink, the bitter expression of a man just trying to hold himself together continuously trying to poke his way through. “You know damn well she’d make you bring her along regardless. Your wife is one tough bitch” the man grunts, taking down another shot as each face of the couple ahead light up with an agreeable smirk, waiting for the second take-back of booze to hit bottom. Clearing his throat and wiping his nose, Clark sets his scepticism aside, knowing the pair well enough to drop the inquisitive demeanour of his aside. “I know you two didn’t squeal” he confesses, clearing any suspicion in the air as he glances back toward the larger group, various discussions being shared as many of those who remain do so without anywhere else to go. “They still not liking you much?” Clark wonders aloud, his glare soon shared by the standing couple, neither of which can deny the truth behind the remark. “It’s bad enough that we’re ‘close’ to her, it’s another thing that we don’t share their outlook” Kayla replies, the details of her confession one finished by her husband. “We’re only here to try and understand you. That’s good enough for them to tolerate us” Chevy quips, “accepting us is an entirely different- unnavigable- road.” Nodding, Clark smacks his lips as he stands from the stool, taking both the bottle and cup into his hand as he steps around the bar for a second time. “Give acceptance and you’ll get acceptance- that’s how the saying goes, right?” the grizzled peacekeeper replies, discarding of the cup in a plastic bin before returning the bottle to a nearby shelf, “-give understanding, and you’ll get-” Interrupted before his thought can be finished, a collective hush comes over the closeby group as the bar’s door opens, bathing the largely-dark room with the light of a rainy day, prompting his voice to drop as his eyes widen. “Get down!” Clark hisses, waving his hand in the couple’s direction to shield them behind the bar, protecting the expecting parents he’d initially let into the group to begin with. Armed with semi-automatic rifles, Jaime’s security detail steps through the parted sea of peacekeepers, the well-outnumbered but superior-supplied militia led by Blake’s command. In silence, the man slowly steps through the room, passing what had once been the dining area and now stands as the centre for the peacekeeper’s operation. “Who is it?” Chevy whispers, holding his wife close whilst whispering to the man standing beside him. “Your girls’ militia” Clark replies in an equal whisper, staring angrily at the impeding group of men that soon direct their gaze toward his direction. Coming to a standstill, Blake sets his eyes on the man behind the bar whilst the rest of his crew keep their focus on the various revolutionaries, all waiting with bated breath to see how the events unfold- hoping just to live through it. “Greetings” Blake remarks, speaking to the group whilst only keeping his sights on Clark, feeling the hostility that sits in the empty space between them, “any of you starting to get hungry?” Nostrils flaring, Clark seethes as his hand slips below the counter, a gesture Blake notices but doesn’t care to call out, knowing the man and his large, yet powerless guerillas to be far out-matched. Returning to the surface with a knife and stone, Clark looks Blake in the eyes as he presses the blade to the rock, running it down the steel’s edge carefully before repeating the process. “I’m here to let you know that it doesn’t have to get to that point” the militia leader remarks, offering an olive branch to those that surround his small army, “you and your families- they can keep their plates full if you help us out with something.” “We’re not surrendering!” a lone voice calls out from one side of the bar, her fellow rebels split in half by the detail’s appearance, though they stand in agreement as cheers back her decry together. “That’s not what we had in mind” Blake responds, turning to face the woman as he does, offering Clark the opening to get the pair out of dodge. Tapping Chevy with his knee, the peacekeeper’s vocal figure gives them the signal to take themselves out of dodge. In a sprint, Chevy and Kayla dart out from the barside and hurry into the back of the establishment, ducking into the shadows and bursting through the backdoor in one swoop, leaving whatever altercation lies ahead to fate. | “I love what you’ve done with the place” Julia exclaims with feigned glee, sliding her finger down the fibres of the flag that waves upon the store owner’s patio. “What are you doing here?” Cody inquires, pausing the classic flick playing on his tube television as he sets his attention on the curious visitor. “What? Am I not allowed in Lancaster?” the woman asks aloud, stepping through the door much to the man’s displeasure, “I’ve been banned from too many places to keep count.” With a dissatisfied grimace, Cody pulls himself out of his seat and rounds the counter to approach the visiting woman, suspicious of her intent. Dropping the off-putting humorous facade, Julia takes a plastic bag of gummy bears into her possession and slaps them atop the countertop, “I’m here to make a purchase” she answers, flashing the man a smile as they come eye to eye for a few moments. Inherently disliking the woman, Cody nods his head and returns to the register, waiting for the other shoe to drop that doesn’t take long to. “I was also interested in seeing if you wanted to make a deal” Julia quips, watching the man get halfway before a sigh leaves his lungs, the head he wears proudly upon his shoulders dropping at the suggestion. “Oh, don’t be such a diva. We already have one deal on the cards, what’s another one gonna hurt?” Julia wonders aloud, quickly receiving her answer from the disgruntled town overseer. “Because our first one is already bad enough” Cody replies, sliding his hand along the wooden surface as his free palm recollects the package of candy, “and knowing how sick your head is, I already know this one isn’t going to be much better.” “I’m the sick one? I mean, I don’t disagree- but I’m not the one building a town off slave labour” Julia argues with a cheerful undertone in her voice, one Lancaster’s owner cannot bring himself to match. “No, of course not- you just catch them for me, right?” he responds, watching the pleased expression on the woman’s face drop halfway- still present, though less obvious. “I need more food and I don’t have the space at the hospital to make it myself. With Jaime getting more from the N.D.F than you already, I figured you could afford to part ways with some” Julia remarks, cutting to the chase in a way that makes Cody wish they’d stuck to their sly banter. “What makes you think I can do that?” the man genuinely inquires, pressing his hands against the counter as he tosses the plastic-wrapped package back to the woman, “you do realise that I have a town of my own to feed, right?” “A town built off the back slave labour that- as you pointed out- wouldn’t be possible without me” Julia retorts, a counterargument that immediately finds itself argued against. “And without that slave labour, you wouldn’t have enough drugs to keep your hospital in operation, would you?” Cody replies, immediately hearing the silence of verbal defeat fill the air, “that’s what I thought. You need me just as much as I need you. That’s why this works.” “Then let’s make it work again” Julia remarks, giving into the truth behind the man’s statement before setting her sights on following through with the reason behind her trip, “I need food, and seeing as Lancaster has sort of become the vacation hub for the republic- you need more room.” Though not much pleased with what’s being said, Cody is incapable of arguing against it, the woman he stands across from not having fed him a single lie throughout the duration of her stay. “What are you proposing?” Cody inquires, finally giving into the temptation of what’s been offered to him with open ears, the snake that Julia represents having guided his teeth into the forbidden fruit. “I’ll get you more labour and help you expand into Palmdale, and in return- I want a third of the republic’s supply” the woman responds, the deal laid out already favouring Lancaster’s owner inherently, “all I need is food. Stay out of my business and I’ll stay out of yours. Deal?” Looking to the woman’s hand, Cody thinks quietly to himself as he ponders the potential of what could lie in store, none of what he can picture capable of outweighing the gains he stands to make. As if stripped from the pages of a religious novel itself, the man’s hand finds the refuge of Julia’s own, their terms agreed upon in a morally-bankrupt deal capable of turning heads away. | Sat in silence around the dinner table, the Morris family digs into the oven-roasted ham and steamed broccoli that sits atop their plates, not a word spoken from the mouths of mother’s children. “Ken, I’m glad you’re finally reading again- but can we do when we’re not at the table?” Alex requests, watching her daughter read the final few lines as she slowly removes the book from beside her plate. “And Jaime, can’t you-” she begins to wonder aloud, watching her daughter’s eyes lift from a set of documents without her chin moving a muscle from its direction toward the table, “-well, I can’t really- ugh, nevermind.” With a nod, her eldest daughter returns to the work beside her whilst eyes set upon Kennedy. “You riding solo now?” Alex inquires, watching her daughter pick at what sits on her plate aimlessly, “where’s your reading buddy been?” “Busy with work” Kennedy answers, shuffling a small piece of ham onto the stem of broccoli before sliding it between her teeth, “but she gave me a list of books to read, so I’m just going in order.” Mid-chew, Alex pauses as the silence resumes once more, their family dinners becoming increasingly less manageable the more life catches up to the new normal she’d been holding out hope for. “And how about you, Jaime?” Alex inquires, turning her attention away from the youngest and onto the eldest, only half of the grown woman’s attention paid back to her mother, “anything new with work?” Clearly preoccupied with other business, Jaime looks to her mother with uncertainty over what to say, a slight part of her having assumed the answer was already clear. “Uh, yeah?” the chancellor answers, slowly turning her head to the nearest window, where the once-dark towers shine vibrantly in the midst of a rainy night, “-obviously.” With a slow nod, Alex takes the answer as an indicator that conversation is a luxury hard to come by from at least one side of the table, the other occupied by a girl who wants little to do with the food or family connection. “How’s Chris?” Kennedy suddenly asks, staring at her mother’s surprised face the moment her question is raised, the change in direction freeing Jaime to return her attention to the reports at hand. “He’s, uh- he’s good” Alex replies, slightly pleased her youngest had taken part in the conversation at all, let alone initiated it, “he’s doing good.” With a nod, Kennedy presses her fork into another stem of broccoli as her mother asks a question of her own, “why do you ask?” With a loose shrug, the girl begins to make work of what remains on her plate, answering in total honesty. “I haven’t talked to him in a few weeks, that’s all” the girl replies, chewing the vegetable that sits between her teeth before leaving the floor open for her mother to respond. “Yeah, he’s- uh, he’s trying to give you two some space” Alex admits, splitting her attention between the two girls to each side of her. “Why?” Jaime queries, slicing off a piece of ham whilst continuing to overlook her report, an eyebrow raised as she pulls the fork toward her mouth, “I don’t have a problem with him.” With a shrug, Alex’s face drifts in Kennedy’s direction, her eldest daughter too preoccupied with the papers beside her to notice the implication her mother had been hinting at. “I don’t have a problem with him, I just-” the youngest daughter begins to argue, defending her stance before realising she doesn’t have much else of a defence, “-I just don’t trust him.” Taken aback, Alex pulls her head away with a squint, “what?” she wonders back, almost unsure of whether or not her youngest is joking. “It’s just- ugh- his sister’s a fucking brat and he’s just sketchy as fuck” Kennedy replies, quickly lowering her chin when told off for cursing by her mother. “I don’t trust him, mom. That’s it. I said it, that’s that- I don’t trust him” the girl remarks, lowering her utensils to her plate and pulling away from the table, trying eagerly to depart the table. “Hold on, where are you going!?” Alex exclaims, not having anticipated such an escalation in such quick fashion. “What is she talking about?” the woman turns away, looking to her eldest daughter for insight, realising the explosion of tempers to have been great enough to lure the chancellor’s eyes away from her work. “If you weren’t so preoccupied with having his dick in your mouth, you’d know what I’m talking about!” Kennedy exclaims, offending both women she leaves behind. “Ken, get the fuck back here!” Jaime shouts, hearing enough to justify stepping in, though she receives as much cooperation as her mother does. “No, I’m done being treated like I’m the idiot here. The two of you have your heads so far up your asses you can’t see what’s right in front of you!” Kennedy refutes, turning her attention to the mother that raised her before finishing her declaration, “if you trust him so much- go tell him to show you what’s in that cafeteria!” Without as much as another word, Kennedy slams the door shut, locking herself away in the depths of the home as both her sister and mother look at each other at a loss for words. “What the fuck’s gotten into her?” Jaime asks in astonishment, looking back to the girl’s room as Alex shakes her head in as much uncertainty. Though she rests comfortably in her bed with the ambient sounds of raindrops hitting her window, Alex’s mind stammers around her daughter’s outburst hours after it had occurred, keeping itself too lost in a sea of thought to power down for the night. Earning herself a headache for the trouble, the woman’s body turns toward her side where she reaches for a bottle of pills in the nearby drawer. Unable to see past the darkness that surrounds each corner of the room, Alex fumbles her hand around the mostly-empty drawer before grazing past a piece of metal, its presence cold to the touch. Finally taking the bottle into her possession, the mother of two thinks to herself quietly for a moment, curiously relieving the bottle from her grasp and relocating her hand to the unaccompanied mystery key. Her hair dripping wet from the rain that comes down hard over the republic, Alex steps through the doors to the quiet, unoccupied portion of the hospital she’d seldom ever visited, the most recent memory she can recall being the night prior to Jordan’s murder. Walking the halls of the compound, the woman follows its signage toward the cafeteria, Kennedy’s words sticking to the back of her mind as if permanently glued to it, the allure of the unknown that’s fixated her daughter drawing her in. With the turn of a corner, Alex arrives at her destination, the unassuming doors sitting at the end of a lobby with no one to keep her away, the only thing separating her from seeing what sits behind them being the small key in her hand. The odd feeling in her stomach refusing to go away, the adamant mother steps up to the entrance, pushing her key into the lock and grabbing a hold of the metal handle, a single, unimposing female voice sending shivers down her spine upon calling out. “Hi, Alex” Julia greets, turning the same corner she had whilst holding her hands to each side, the posture she holds giving her a lean to the side. A small puddle forming just beneath her, Alex stands frozen for a moment, almost as if she were a child caught with her hand buried in the cookie jar. “I said, Hi Alex” the doctor repeats, watching the fearful mother turn back as if having met her match, caught red handed with no way of explaining herself as the woman continues, “can’t sleep?” == Dire == “Is that it? Silence?” Jaime asks aloud, staring her prisoner in the eyes whilst waiting for a reply that never comes. “She asked you a question” Blake proclaims, stiffening his arms in preparation to take aim with his weapon, though its power holds little weight against the grenade-wielding internee. Still silent, Travis continues to look the chancellor in the eyes, an unwavering confidence held despite being surrounded by the closest thing to a military on this side of the Mississippi.
Getting nowhere with the sustained eye contact, Jaime pulls her face back toward the nearest window, looking out to the horizon as the choppers near closer, their destination not more than a few blocks from her current confines. Pressing her hand against the frame that surrounds the glass panes, the chancellor’s eyes keep toward the flock whilst her detail raise questions, the string of aircraft beginning to slowly descend beneath the skyline. “What’s the call, chancellor?” Wilfred wonders aloud, taking the same, readied stance that his immediate superior does, the rifle draped across his chest and prepared to take aim. Allowing the question to reach her ears, Jaime does nothing to answer it with her lips, keeping them pressed together as the final, rear-most helicopter drops below her point of sight, leaving her just as in the dark as the man in the centre of the room does. “They’re not interested in hurting you” Travis finally remarks, immediately prompting the Angelino Republic’s commander in chief to turn around, resetting her sights on the man. “If you don’t give them a reason to believe you’re hostile- you’ll live” the explosive-holding, surrendered prisoner warns, looking the woman in the eyes with each word he utters, not interrupted once, “they want the same thing that you want.” “And what is that?” Jaime curiously questions, hearing the man’s declaration out before making assumptions, immediately challenging him to prove the insight it appears he’s come into. With a slight lift, Travis’ chin takes higher, his eyes continuing to look the woman in the face as he begins looking up to her, displaying this posture in a way he hadn’t up to this point. “Power” Travis replies, not another word needed to get the point across, an answer not only vague in nature, but close enough to the right reply to earn the chancellor’s agreement. “Get him in the car” Jaime orders, taking her eyes to Wilfred and ushering him to guide the man himself, “you make one move out of place and it’ll be your head I put the next bullet in, got it rookie?” Very suspicious of the prisoner’s motivations, Wilfred bows his head to the chancellor in acknowledgement, playing by her rules as he gently guides the mysterious firestarter to his feet, leading him the way they’d arrived at gunpoint as Blake stays behind momentarily. “Ma’am, are you sure about this?” the leading militia guidance inquires, taking over the role left behind by Lazarus, though lacking his predecessor's conviction in regards to the woman he’s employed by. “Why, do you have a problem with it?” Jaime inquires, immediately turning back to look through the window. “Well, no. I just-” Blake begins to respond, cut off almost instantly upon his conclusion. “Do you disagree?” the chancellor queries, again receiving a similar response from her subordinate. “No, ma’am” Blake replies, watching his superior’s head nod as her face takes on the expression of dissatisfaction. “Then why are you here?” Jaime asks back, turning her eyes toward her highest-ranking security detail as she waits for a reply that never truly makes itself heard. “I’m sorry, ma’am” Blake concedes, bowing his head and turning back, following the shadow of his militia through the door and toward their parked vehicles. Visibly disappointed, Jaime’s eyes take toward the ceiling as she gently shakes her head, a subtle sigh leaving her lungs. Behind the wheel, Wilfred peers through the rear-view mirror every few seconds, glaring back at the prisoner that occupies the centre of the back row of chairs. In much a similar fashion, Blake holds his weapon in ready position as he sits on the passenger’s side, looking into the mirror on his right at the chancellor, staring at her reflection as she sits in the seat just behind him, voluntarily taking comfort in the seat beside her prisoner. “If I’m trusting you, it’d be nice if you’d give me something to prove you’re willing to do the same” Jaime remarks aloud, breaking the ice as she stares into the distance, watching the scenery of a dying world pass her by whilst her words meet the ear of the man beside her. Not expecting anything of use- but just assuming it’d be best to at least raise the request- her head rests against the back of her seat as she continues to watch the world glow in preparation for welcoming a new day. Without a word, the man responds to her request, allowing the coupled hands the chancellor holds in her lap to receive his reciprocation of her trust. Looking down, the palm of her dominant hand holds the spherical ball Travis had used to maintain leverage just nearly a half hour prior, his grenade relinquished in the name of peace and solidarity. “Should we be ready to fire?” a man whispers into the air of a clean-shaven, dress shirt-wearing man with well-combed hair, hands tucked away in each pocket as he stands at the forefront of a fleet of helicopters. “You should be ready for everything, Joey” the steadfast man replies, only turning his chin toward his shoulder to speak, not one pulling his sight away from the oncoming group of vehicles. Rolling to a stop, the line of armoured vehicles draws toward the line of foreign aircraft in a peaceful display of cooperation, calmly ceasing their forward progress a few metres away from the invading forces. With the air growing still, the well-groomed gentleman stands by with his hands at each side, waiting for his visitors to emerge from their convoy and face him personally. “Just give us the signal, Wade” a second man calls out from just behind Joey, his words directed toward the still-calm head pillar of whatever interaction is still to occur. “You’ll know if you’re needed, Ken” the approachable invader responds, still patiently awaiting the departure of whatever authority figure resides within the foremost vehicle. Taking the lead, the Angelino Republic answers their requested arrival, the backdoors opening to reveal the woman of the hour, allowing Jaime to step back onto solid ground as the former city’s tallest landmark burns in the background. Silent, Wade keeps his hands at each side as he removes them from his pocket, wishing to give the woman no reason to believe his purposes are any less than genuine. “It’s nice to meet you, Jaime” the man greets, continuing to stand in the open without a line of defence to shield him, the same gesture given by the reason behind his arrival. With a slight squint in her eyes, the chancellor stares at the man ahead of her with a curious gaze, trying to read a man that presents himself as anything but. Still yet to respond, her hands slam the door shut as she embarks on an approach, slowly closing in on the man she knows little behind the motivations of. “Do I have you to thank for this?” the woman wonders aloud, begging the question in search of an answer before any greeting can be provided. “You have my command to thank for that” the man ahead of her replies, continuing to remain where he’s stood since his landing, “I figured- now that you’ve got that anchor point finished- you wouldn’t need to worry about this thing reaching your republic.” Her squint growing, Jaime digests the man’s remarks before her suspicions rise further, her hesitancy to trust the man in front of her only building with time. “Who are you and what do you want?” she asks aloud, watching the man step forward with a smile in response, his right hand reaching out to shake her own. “Wade Cordova” the man introduces himself, continuing to stare the chancellor in the face despite her eyes pulling away from his and taking to his hand. = 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 = Not feeling a need to knock, Julia steps through the door to her brother’s office as he sits behind his desk, a dejected look worn on his face as he presses his hand against the side of his face, staring at a set of papers as company arrives. “What’s wrong with you?” the woman inquires, taking off her lab coat and tossing it over the back of a chair, her sights being left to a glass bowl of jelly beans in the corner of the man’s desk. “Lost a patient, how about you?” the man half-heartedly replies, brushing off his sister’s presence as he refocuses his sights on the documents in hand. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Julia responds, initially burying her hand in the bowl of sweets before removing it in favour of taking ownership over the entire pot, making herself at home in one of the chairs before the desk. “You just walked into my office without knocking and nicked all my sweets like you own the place” Chris responds in an unenthused tone. “I kinda do” Julia replies with her head leant toward one side, “besides, we lose patients all the time- what do you care?” With his eyes pressing closer together, the disheartened doctor looks at his sister with a loss for words. “It’s someone that we know dying, that’s not exactly supposed to be cheerful” Chris replies, watching as the woman across from him tosses a handful of beans into her mouth as if they were popcorn, letting a few bounce off her face and scatter along the ground. “Why not? One less mouth to feed and a few less stories to hear from old people” Julia retorts, holding a pep in her verbal step, “less work and less annoying people? I can’t think of a better reason to cheer!” Rolling his eyes, Chris shakes his head and returns to his reading, though his ear is soon caught in his sister’s second thought. “Though, I suppose I can think of one thing better to cheer about” Julia quips, pulling her head back as she reclaims her brother’s line of sight, “how’s getting busy with Momma Morris going, milf hunter?” As if it’d never been asked, the preoccupied doctor brushes off the question as he lays sights back upon the documents in hand, very clearly not wishing to reply. “Hold on, you are still bedding her, right?” Julia reiterates, finally forcing a response from the desk-occupying gentleman. “For fuck’s sake- yes” Chris responds, an obvious vigour contained within his reply, one that prompts his sister to return the bowl of candy to his desk and lift both hands in surrender. “Geez- take a joke, won’t ya?” Julia remarks, feigning her relent as a set of small knocks emerge from the opposite side of the door, both siblings caught in the request for entry. “Come in” Chris replies with a slightly-saddened voice, shielding it as best he can before the entry parts from its hinges. “That’s my cue to leave” Julia declares, watching Kennedy stride through the door and stop a short distance away from the pair, watching the visiting doctor retrieve her coat. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out-” the youngest Morris child replies, looking the woman in the eyes as she turns back mid-departure, finishing her insult as intended, “-it’d be, what? The fifth time this week?” Irritated, Julia rolls her eyes and walks the rest of the way out of the room, not in the mood to waste her breath in responding to the child’s statement. “She won’t admit it, but that one got under her skin just a little bit” Chris remarks, recapturing the teen’s attention as he sets the documents back upon his desk, “at least you don’t discriminate with who you tear a verbal asshole to. No one’s off limits.” Though slightly appreciative at the compliment, Kennedy shows no proof of this in her face, eyes taking to the chair her disliked foe had departed from not one minute prior. “My mom wants to invite you to dinner tomorrow night” the young girl confesses, standing across the desk from her mother’s boyfriend, an obvious dislike for the circumstance made evident in her expression. Though surprised, Chris leans back in his seat as his intentions set upon agreeing, only to take notice of his guest’s displeasure in the idea. With an arm pressing against the side of his chair, the doctor reads Kennedy’s expression quietly before opening his mouth, allowing the girl to answer the first question that comes over his mind. “Is that what you want?” the man asks, watching the girl’s eyes pull away from the distant corner of the room, setting upon the doctor’s own as the question is left waiting for an answer. Bemused momentarily, Kennedy pulls her head back suspiciously before responding as desired, “no, it’s not” she replies honestly, a remark that prompts the doctor to nod. “Then tell her I have a new batch of volunteers to train here and I’ll be busy all night- but that I appreciate the offer” Chris concludes, flashing a half-hearted smile at the girl before reclaiming possession of his written reports, only further confusing the child. “Why?” Kennedy queries, again receiving the practising professional’s undivided attention once more, “don’t you want to go?” “Well, of course” Chris, too, answers honestly, looking the girl in the eyes as he leans further into his seat, slowly letting his chair glide toward her direction, “but as much as I’d like to make your mother happy, I don’t want to make you and Jaime unhappy all the same. If you guys don’t like something, I don’t want to intrude just because- well, just because I wanted to.” Pulling in a huff of air with a suspicious look in her eyes, Kennedy attempts to speak before letting out a sigh, incapable of putting her thoughts into words as she fails to understand what she’s being answered with. “Look, Ken- I like your mom. I like her a lot, actually” Chris continues, doubling down on his stance in as understandable a way as he can manage, “but as important as she is to me, you and Jaime are important too. If Alex wants something- that’s okay, if you and Jaime want something- that’s okay too.” Stood in total silence, Kennedy finds herself incapable of thought as the answer is left for her to do with what she chooses. Not needing to add anything further, Chris lets the conversation die as he retakes the documents into his possession for a third time, resting his eyes on them as the youngest of the Morris children walks off, not sure what to say or think, but satisfied with the answer she’s been given enough to leave with it. | “You still haven’t answered the second question” Jaime responds, refusing to lift her hand even a centimetre from where it sits by her hip, not yet satisfied with the conversation’s standing, “what do you want?” Letting his smile fall just a slight amount, Wade bows his head and pulls his hand back, returning to the initial posture he’d introduced himself with, falling back into place as he re-engages with the civil discourse they’d begun the process of. “In short, the same thing everyone in the world wants. Power” Wade replies, at least putting forth an honest exterior for the woman to judge him by, “it’s part of what makes us human. We create societies and someone always ends up highest on the totem pole. Who do you think those people are?” As a gentle breeze rolls in, Jaime takes her hands to the blonde locks atop her head, pulling them back into a ponytail before shrugging her shoulders, “the people that make those societies, I’d imagine.” With his lips puckered, Wade lets a slow nod reply to the woman’s answer, in equal agreement as he is in disagreement. “At first, yes” the man responds, his nod beginning to turn into a shake of the head, “but in the long run, it’s the people that can obtain the most power and keep it.” Her expression unchanged, Jaime remains tactfully quiet, allowing the man before her to continue filling the air with his thoughts, each new word uttered providing her with the insight she couldn’t obtain from her glance toward him alone. “Every new generation has fewer freedoms and fewer opportunities than the ones that came before them because there wasn’t the chance for them to get there first” Wade remarks, “and every new cycle just plays with the pieces the old guard left behind.” Wearing his thoughts like a badge over his heart, Wade begins to let the cooperative presentation fall aside, the ice broken enough for him to speak with his hands without it holding any unintended intimidation. “One by one, the cycle keeps repeating until wham! Society falls- case and point, the U-S-of-A” the visiting force proclaims, waving his hand around the ruins of the greater Los Angeles metropolitan, “and then a whole new cycle begins.” “And we’re the ones that start out on top of the totem pole? That’s what you’re saying?” Jaime interrupts, earning a grin across the face of the man across from her. “Partially. I’m saying we’re the ones with the power- and the only way to make sure we stay at the top of that totem pole is to keep it” Wade answers, concluding his point as the chancellor puckers her lips, beginning to nod as her arms cross over her chest. “And who is we?” the woman replies, curious as to the circumstances her visitor arrives with, “unless you got lucky, I don’t think a couple schmucks like you just found a fleet of choppers and decided to take a tour around the world. Who are you with?” With his smile returning, Wade looks to the woman ahead of him before taking his eyes just past her, looking to the litany of vehicles that occupy the road to her back. “People a lot more powerful than what you’ve got on your ‘six” the man answers, immediately watching the look of doubt creep in across the chancellor’s face. “And where are the rest of them?” Jaime challenges, not taking the man’s claims as seriously as she had minutes prior, intrigued by the implication he’s set forth. “Pearl Harbor out on O’ahu island- just west of Honolulu” Wade responds with a wide smirk, his answer implying only one thing, which his immediate opposition realises instantly. Her squint fading as much as her doubt does, Jaime’s head pulls back just slightly as the man continues to speak, his answer having provoked more intimidation than any action he’d taken up to that moment. “That means you’re-” the chancellor begins to reply, only for her thought to be finished by the man across the cracked road from her, his calmness unwavering as the subtle tensions rise within the confines of Jaime’s head. “-what remains of the American empire, yes- you are correct” Wade interjects, letting go of a deep breath as he redirects attention, “and even though I stand before you without ill-intentions, I do take great resentment for the slaying your people committed against mine.” “Hold on, we didn’t-” Jaime begins to defend, only to be silenced by the man she knows holds higher moral ground than she does. “You didn’t what? Light a fire in our bunker after we’d given you the chance to leave unharmed? Because I know for a fact who instigated that bloodbath and it was not us” Wade remarks, immediately capturing the highest position of the two leaders, speaking down upon the woman from atop his own. “We know why you wanted to keep the base for yourselves, and it’s the same reason we wanted it back. We didn’t fire a single bullet until after your people shot first- that’s a fact, and you know it” Wade declares, again speaking to an audience that is nothing less than fully standing in attention. “We could have sought out revenge for all of it. The bloodshed in Colorado, running off Django and starting a revolution- but we didn’t. We stayed in the shadows, bought our time, and made sure we studied you carefully” Wade continues, finally reaching the point of his visit, “and as it turns out, we’ve come to realise that there’s more to gain from keeping you around than there is from squashing you like the pesky little bugs we used to think you were.” Beginning to let the gravity of the situation sink in, Jaime takes notice of the circumstances surrounding her, though not outnumbered in boots on the ground for the moment, certainly outgunned, outmanned and overpowered by the faction across from her. “We led the president directly into a shitstorm- literally. And we did so because we knew how deep the swamp ran, and we needed to pry it out at the roots” Wade explains, his voice remaining calm and low, personable with the woman across from him, “strangely enough, running Django out of town proved to us that you wanted the same, exact thing.” “And what now?” Jaime interjects, finally breaking the uncontested proclamations being made with her interests set on preparing for what’s still ahead, “where do we go from here?” Slightly annoyed by the interruption, Wade takes it as a blessing in disguise, turning his attention toward finishing the business he’d arrived to set in motion. “We make sure you follow through on the second half of taking power- keeping it” Wade answers, letting his hands fall by each side as he averts his eyes toward the burning tower in the centre of a dead city. “We already have our issues taken care of. Food, electricity, water, safety- we don’t need you” Jaime replies, met with instantaneous threat the moment she finishes her thought. “No, what you need is to understand what’s staring you in the face” Wade replies, his entire body turned away from the woman in favour of the inferno-raging carcass of a one city-icon. “This isn’t a request for partnership, this is a ‘work with us, or there is no ‘you’’ deal” the man explains, making it clear that there are no options for the Angelino Republic that don’t involve his force in one way or another, “you either play ball or you don’t. We either take this place in spirit or in name.” Her power infinitely inferior and such a truth being undeniable, Jaime is left standing with her full attention being set on the man across from her, the expression she wears hiding a deep rage that threatens to burst from within her confines. “And what do you have in mind?” the chancellor asks aloud, watching the smile begin to slowly reappear in the corner of the man’s face, his full focus remaining set on the monolith. | “We shouldn’t even be out here right now” Kayla responds, sat in the passenger seat with her weapon in hand, watching the road pass by, her fiance taking paths left mostly-untravelled since the earliest days of the catalyst. “We’ll turn back if you’re not up for this” Chevy doubles down, a suggestion his child’s mother refuses immediately, the look of determination worn on the woman’s face with pride. “I’m pointing out the fact that we should be careful. If we get stopped by someone on patrol, we ought to have a better reason for heading so deep in the city than ‘we wanted to find some wanted terrorists’” Kayla reiterates, saying so in a way that earns a chuckle out of the driver. “I’m not kidding” the woman reassures, an implication her partner had no intention of giving. “No, it’s just- you’re cute when you’re worried” Chevy jokes, receiving a glare as his passenger slowly lifts the gun into the air, shaking it before her fiance’s face as a playful warning. Slowly rolling to a stop, the truck finds itself surrounded in three directions by a dead-end, a brick wall sitting to each side and just before them. “Well, there goes that plan” Chevy sighs in disappointment, wearing a frown as he sinks into his seat, the obstruction in his path leaving the trail impossible to finish. “Not quite” Kayla replies, climbing out from her seat and making for the end of the alley whilst her fiance follows closely behind. “Uh, Kay? Do I need to remind you that the only thing ahead of us is a brick wall?” Chevy calls out, climbing onto the ground whilst leaning against his truck’s hood, “this isn’t Harry Potter. You can’t just walk through the wall and expect there to be more than-” Disregarding her partner’s remarks, Kayla holds her hand out and gently shoves the wall inward, revealing a door perfectly camouflaged with the rest of the building’s exterior. His mouth agape, Chevy watches his fiance turn back toward him, a devilish smirk worn on the face of the woman soon to bear his offspring. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me” the man murmurs beneath his breath, shaking his head as he throws his hands out in disbelief, following his wife through the concealed entrance. “The place gave out free drinks and I used to date the bartender” Kayla responds, answering her fiance’s obvious inquiries to her knowledge of the layout, a shrug given as they turn the nearest corner. The playful conversation they take part in coming to an immediate stop, the entering couple fall upon the scene of a few dozen souls all standing in collective silence, each set of eyes taken in their direction as they come across the once-bustling barroom. Looking back without much to say, Chevy and Kayla stare at the audience with an equal amount of hesitancy to speak as the rest do, as unsure of what to say as the supposed peacekeepers are. | “Enter” Jaime orders, scrawling notes along a black and white map of the republic and its surrounding, equally-decaying area whilst Julia enters. “You called for me?” the visiting woman inquires, watching the tip of the chancellor’s marker take aim at the seat just before her desk, the distant sight of a still-burning skyscraper lighting the evening sky of yet another day passed over the republic. As instructed, the doctor takes her seat in the well-crafted chair as the woman across from her continues to scrawl endlessly, finishing the illustration in her mind before capping the felt-tip. “They’re not gone” Jaime confesses, placing the blue marker to the side as she couples her hands atop the desk, looking Julia in the eyes as she reiterates herself, “the government- they’re not gone.” Obviously taken back, Julia leans further into her seat as she lets the information sit with her, the time to let it sink in not afforded as the news continues. “I talked to them earlier this morning. They want to turn the republic into a sanctuary for whatever people are still alive” Jaime explains, proceeding with what she can recollect of importance, “they’ll make sure we’re fed, well-stocked and prepared for the next time the acid storm rolls in.” “I- I don’t understand” Julia admits, both arms resting against the sides of her chair as she leans forward slightly, “I thought we had everything taken care of, why do we need them?” Without hesitation, Jaime answers without a pause, answering immediately whilst making it obvious that her back is against a wall. “Because we don’t have a choice. Because I don’t have a choice” the chancellor admits, “we either cooperate or we die. Call it what you want, but I don’t call that a choice.” Unable to find the words, Julia looks to the woman across from her with an expression of astonishment, quite literally at a loss for words aside from one question that soon comes upon her. “Why tell me this?” the doctor queries, leaning back in her seat once more as the question is left floating in search of an answer for a short moment, one it doesn’t take Jaime long to offer. “Because I need you to cut off the peacekeepers” Jaime answers, sliding out of her chair before wrapping her hands around the stem of a wine glass, “I need them angry. That other side of the coin you were talking about- They want that.” Tilting her head to the side, Julia leaves her seat and approaches the chancellor, who makes her way to the window to continue spectating the burning of the old city’s most prominent landmark. “And that’s what you want?” Julia replies, holding her place to make sure her orders are not misunderstood, though surprised to hear the answer that leaves the chancellor’s lips. “It doesn’t matter what I want” Jaime answers, taking a sip from her glass as she stares defeatedly at the distant inferno, slowly coming to grips with the reality she’s now faced with, “we’re all just puppets of the N.D.F now.” == Dire == Tapping the tip of her right foot against the carpeted floor below her, Jaime sits in the backseat with both hands folded in her lap, waiting to reach her destination. Sitting through the car ride in silence, the woman remains fixated on the burning monolith just outside her window, its intense flames screaming into the heavens whilst a crowd of onlookers watch on, called to the burning high-rise in lieu of not being offered entry into the newborn republic.
“We’re doing everything we can to find the person responsible” Wilfred reassures, calling back to the woman that sits directly behind his passenger’s seat, her attention still kept to the unoccupied city centre east of her nation. “Of course you are” Jaime replies, leaning against the door as her eyes keep themselves glued to the sky above, its dark, star-filled expanse covered in the fire’s thick layer of smoke. “I don’t want to be told you’re looking for him, I want to be told that you’ve found him” Jaime retorts, still bouncing her left leg as the SUV speeds through the debris-littered street, “whoever’s capable of this isn’t someone I want walking free for too long.” Nodding his chin, Wilfred quietly returns his sights to the road ahead, its length quickly shortening as they reach a fleet of fire engines, each massive vehicle flashing lights and sirens as their crews race to the scene. “This is as far as we’re getting” Jaime declares, unfastening her seatbelt and hurrying to be the first out of the car, her determined approach of the nearest crew stalling for a moment as her eyes take upward once more. Searing the white exterior a shade of charcoal, the ghastly flames continue to shoot out from each shattered window as the tower becomes little more than a meeting point for those without a home in the new world. Taken back by the sight for a moment, Jaime shakes herself out of the awestruck gaze that had encompassed her as the sound of additional car doors shutting just behind her recalls the mission at hand. With a confident stride, the chancellor embarks on a search for one man in particular, his voice soon calling out to her from afar. “Hold on, hold on!” Fred exclaims, waving his hand back in the woman’s direction as he quickly hurries to their side, “it isn’t safe, you’ve gotta keep your distance!” Though dissuaded from advancing any further, the chancellor wishes to know as close to everything as she can manage, stepping back the way she came as the fire chief draws nearer. “Tell me what I need to know” Jaime responds, finally within ear’s reach of the man as they begin walking for her car, keeping the conversation to a minimum so as not to clue the various survivors in on what’s not their information to know. “Well, for one- the building was built in the late-80’s. Unless you want mesothelioma, it’s best to keep as far away from this place as you can get” Fred replies, quickly setting his sights on the issue he knows the woman to be present for. “As for the fire, we don’t know who did it” the man continues, immediately watching the disappointed look take shape over the chancellor’s face. “One thing is for certain though-” Fred explains, turning back to the skyscraper and pointing toward the building’s absolute top, “this thing wasn’t the guys from Angelino.” Squinting as her chin tilts higher, Jaime watches the flames continue to shoot out as the most obvious question on her mind leaves the tip of her lips, “and you know that how?” Removing his hard hat, Fred wipes at his head before replying, watching as his crews storm the building with no regard for their own health, just insistent on putting the flames out for the betterment of their nation. With the tap of his knuckles on the woman’s shoulder, Fred leads the woman he’s sworn loyalty to around the building’s length, walking in silence for a few minutes as Jaime remains silent, trusting in his opinion as they earn a better vantage point for their troubles. “Because I don’t think we have access to that” the fire chief replies, pointing toward a crater in the building’s centre layers, the strands of twisted metal and blown-out concrete protruding outward around the impact site. “Well, maybe you do- but the rest of the Angelinos? No chance” Fred corrects, shaking his head at the awfully concerning sight whilst the woman beside him watches on, forced to take in a deep breath as the gravity of what she deals with becomes clearer. “Alright, do me a favour-” Jaime replies, trying to rid her mind of the anxiety that comes with the many threats that loom over her and her reign on the new republic in search of a more level-headed approach. “-if anyone sticks out like a sore thumb to you, grab them” Jaime orders, not putting it past the display’s creator to blend in with the crowd and marvel at their own doing, “I want no stone left unturned. This will not go without punishment.” Bowing his head, Fred silently gestures to the woman that her commands are understood completely, taking the open-ending to their conversation as his signal to return to work before the woman’s voice calls out to him once more. “And Fred?” Jaime exclaims, watching the man turn back at her request, “tell your men to stand down. If this thing isn’t healthy for me to be around, I don’t want you guys around it for too long either.” Confused, Fred turns his head to one side with a bemused smile, not understanding her motivations. “Jaime, this whole thing could come crumbling down any minute. If that’s not bad enough, it could set the rest of the town on fire” the man remarks, “we can’t just leave it burning.” “Yes, you can” Jaime reiterates, not wanting to lose resources and manpower over already-lost causes, “we don’t live here. There’s already a protected ring around the republic, so the fire can’t spread into town.” Parting his lips to speak, Fred loses his ability to formulate words as the chancellor continues talking, knowing what she says to be true, but finding it hard to fall in line with such a great task staring him directly in the face. “We’ve got nothing to lose from this thing continuing to burn, and if it isn’t safe for me to be around- I don’t want the rest of you wasting time on something as useless as this” Jaime proclaims, watching the slow acceptance of her commands roll over the disheartened, yet understanding professional. “Understood, Ms. Mor-” Fred begins to reply, stopping himself as he watches the woman brace for the declaration of her title, promptly correcting himself at the last minute. “Understood, Mrs. Cutler” the man rephrases, bowing his head before turning to return to his fleet, the woman’s tense expression quickly easing as the look in her eyes express appreciation, allowing the man to rejoin his unit without further hesitancy. As if trying to pull herself free from the subdued glee she can feel run through her, Jaime returns her attention to the overhead inferno, staring into the building’s wound as her warm-hearted visage lessens, replaced with a frown. = 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 = Letting out a sigh, Kayla sinks into her passenger’s seat as the lights of small businesses pass by her window, the night having brought about a clearer picture of the flame-enraptured megatower. “That’s not a good combination of issues to have, Chevy” the man’s pregnant fiance remarks, a proclamation he is not keen on arguing against. “It’s just difficult to imagine that a burning tower is the least of all our problems” Chevy replies, holding the steering wheel’s crown with his left hand as his right comes together with his lover’s own. “I’d hardly argue that” Kayla responds, squinting as she takes her eyes toward the small pop-up stores that have sprouted from what had once been near-bankrupt businesses along the streets of West Los Angeles. “We have food in order- the hassle is either making enough to let other people in, or making just enough for what we need and holding the rest at the gates” the passenger replies, eventually leading her sights toward the road ahead, “a burning tower is a whole host of other issues.” Pulling his head back, Chevy remains quiet for a moment as he takes in her remarks, challenging himself to find the sense she’d yet to bring the conversation around to. “We have the trenches dug, so unless the fire stretches all the way across downtown- we should be fine” the man remarks, only able to earn a shake of the head from the woman beside him. “It’s not the fire that’s the problem, it’s how it happened” Kayla reiterates, resting her right arm against the inside of her door as her head presses against the back of her seat, “it’s one thing if it was an accident, some electrical problem or whatever- but if it was a person?” Lifting his head toward the air, Chevy finds the route his fiance had begun to venture upon before meeting her halfway, finishing her thought before she even has the chance to. “If it was a person, that would be just as bad as the peacekeepers setting those fires around the perimeter” he remarks, the lack of reluctance from his partner only providing weight to his accuracy. “And it could be the peacekeepers, but it could also be someone else entirely” Kayla proclaims, listening to a welcoming jingle come over the radio station they’d lowered the volume of. “In a worst-case scenario, it’d be the people we’re not letting in responsible for the fire” Chevy remarks as his partner begins to twist the farthest knob to the stereo, not wanting to cut him off before he has the chance to finish his thought, “at that point, it’d be more than just a problem.” “-od evening, I hope you’re all safe and well. If you’re not informed already, I have some news to share with you” Chris’ voice remarks through the car’s radio, drawing immediate interest from the vehicle’s passengers. “Just a few hours ago, a fire erupted out of an unmarked tower in downtown Los Angeles around fifteen minutes outside of the republic” the man remarks, capturing Kayla’s attention as the driver’s eyes take toward a row of markings on the nearest sidewalk. “After a short conversation with Ms. Morris, I’ve been assured that the fire is under control, and crews are actively working to put out the blaze” Chris proclaims, continuing to speak to the nation in a well-spoken, calming tone. “With the divide between the republic and the rest of its former city having already finished, there is no reason to believe that such a fire would be capable of reaching the nation” the informant continues, “so in any case, the fire is no need for alarm.” His interruption of the broadcast brief, Chris returns the airwaves to whatever music he could get his hands on, prompting the vehicle’s passenger to reach for the knob once more. Turning the wheel, Chevy guides his truck down a stretch of mostly-unlit road, veering off the course his fiance had been expecting them to take. Curious, yet intrigued, Kayla keeps quiet as she follows the road her partner takes with her eyes, the unmaintained asphalt they trek through covered in dirt and debris. Eventually finding an unmarked space on the side of the road, Chevy pulls his truck over and quickly hops out of the vehicle, the need to call his motivations into question having finally arrived. “Where are we?” Kayla wonders aloud, joining the man in hopping out of the car, his lead followed closely as he struggles to put his thoughts into words, his mind too preoccupied with questioning himself over what he’s looking for. “That symbol- I keep- I keep seeing it” Chevy remarks, pointing toward the side of an abandoned, brick building where a small, spray-painted peace symbol resides. “I saw it on the curb, then again on that stop sign back there- now here” he continues, not yet certain what he makes of the presentation. Reaching out, Kayla rests her hand on the man’s shoulder and gently rubs it with her thumb, trying to ease his mind of cluttered thoughts whilst considering the discovery quietly. “What if these things lead somewhere?” Chevy asks aloud, the same question his fiance had been asking herself now raised for the pair to share, neither half of the couple denying the possibility. With a glance toward the uncharted passage ahead, Kayla repeats the question to herself, her partner’s eyes soon joining hers in venturing toward what lies ahead, their desire to find an answer too great to ignore. | With a dissatisfied look on her face, Kennedy reluctantly follows Chris through the length of the hospital, their destination lying ahead in the farthest corner of the facility. “And why do we need to do this?” the young girl inquires, yet to receive an answer to the question before the moonlighting doctor rounds the next turn, his quick pace prompting her to make an attempt at keeping up. “Well we don’t want people freaking out over it, do we?” Chris responds, speaking with a higher voice so as to appear more friendly to his girlfriend’s daughter, unsure of how to speak to children. “Why does it matter?” a discontented Kennedy queries, both hands hanging limply by each side as she continues to provide a shadow to the doctor’s long walk down each lengthy corridor, “they can’t put out the fire, so why do they care?” Rolling the small sheet of papers he carries, Chris tucks the notes into his coat pocket as he continues to answer the young girls’ questions, trying his best to be as likeable as he can manage. “Because it’s important to remind them that the fire- even if we’re not going to put it out- can’t reach us” the man replies, turning the final corner toward his intended destination with a smile, glancing toward the girl that continues to match his stride. “Didn’t we say that this morning?” the young girl wonders aloud, finally beginning to set up a greater question than what the doctor can anticipate. “Well, Jaime mentioned the trenches- yes” Chris responds, immediately prompting the youngest Morris daughter to look back at him with confusion. “Then why do we tell them again? Didn’t they listen the first time?” Kennedy quips, raising a question the man she follows has a hard time refuting. “People can forget things easily. It makes them difficult to like” Chris answers, letting a brief glimpse into his true feelings sneak through the cracks of his purposefully-welded visage, though one that the girl accompanying him shares. “Well duh, that’s why we call them idiots” Kennedy replies, unaware of the brief chuckle she earns from the man beside her, his hand pressing against his lips to keep his laugh from escaping. Letting the conversation die there, Chris opens the door to the tech-filled wonderland that operates the republic’s detrimental airwaves, his seat taken in the chair that occupies the room’s centre. “It looks cool, right?” the doctor wonders aloud, funnelling through a stack of records as mid-60’s folk rock provides the nation with an evening of the closest thing to entertainment they can muster. “It’s a bunch of machines and lights, why would it look cool?” Kennedy answers, the question one that turns the pleased doctor’s corner-residing smirk into a slight frown. “I don’t know” Chris responds, shrugging his shoulders in disappointment as he removes whichever record his fingers had stumbled upon, preparing it for the post-bulletin tracklist. “How does all of this work?” Kennedy wonders aloud, her face lit with a green tint as she leans close toward a tower of computers, their various green bulbs blinking rapidly. “It’s all a bit complicated” her chaperon responds, sliding an 80’s metal record from its cover and removing the needle from the ongoing track, preparing the next round of music before repositioning himself in front of the mic, prepared to address the nation. With a few switches flipped and buttons pressed, Chris turns the knuckle of his hand toward the desktop bell, ringing it in a pleasing melody before leaning into the stationary mic. “Good evening, I hope you’re all safe and well. If you’re not informed already, I have some news to share with you” he declares, passing a glance at the cross-armed girl standing off to his side, her unimpressed expression doing little to turn his downcast frown around. “Just a few hours ago, a fire erupted out of an unmarked tower in downtown Los Angeles around fifteen minutes outside of the republic” Chris continues, speaking whilst Kennedy steps away, casually pacing around the makeshift studio whilst her eyes take to the individual machines that make up the parts of the room she’s yet to explore. “After a short conversation with Ms. Morris, I’ve been assured that the fire is under control, and crews are actively working to put out the blaze” the man continues, only for the young girl he’s been entrusted with looking after to take advantage of his back being turned to her, making for the still-open entrance without a peep. Uncrossing her arms, Kennedy quickly glides across the floor and steps into the hallway, passing a few looks toward the pre-occupied doctor as she subtly departs. Rounding the nearest corner as quickly as she can, Kennedy makes her way into the larger portion of the hospital, quickly venturing through a few open doors before spilling into the front-most waiting room, not a soul around to keep her from continuing the unguided tour. Left to her own devices, the youngest Morris sibling steps past the empty front desk and slips into the next passageway, trying to keep as much distance between herself and the less-than-affable, airwave-occupying doctor. Turning down a slender walkway, Kennedy’s ears catch the sound of wrestling metal a few steps back, the confusing noise immediately prompting her to turn back the way she came, uncertain of whether or not she’d mistaken the racket. With a cautious approach, the girl turns her head toward a set of double doors in the back of the waiting room, the eerie sensation of such an empty space holding host to such an unusual quarrel causing the hairs on her arms to rise. With her eye to the sliver in the parted doors, Kennedy places her hand against the crash pad and begins to apply pressure. “Kennedy!” Chris exclaims, sprinting across the waiting area before ripping the girl away from the mysterious room, the bewilderment she wears like an unmistakable badge made apparent immediately. “What the fuck!?” the young girl exclaims, not taking kindly to being carried away like a misbehaving toddler, swatting the man’s hands away as he sets her down in a chair. “What are you doing!?” Chris shouts, the vein that protrudes from over his eyebrow lending credibility to the rest of his enraged expression, his voice reaching heights Kennedy had never seen him reach before. “What did your mother say about leaving my sights!? You could’ve gotten hurt!” the man exclaims, quickly trying to find a source for his paranoia that doesn’t involve the cafeteria entrance he’d just stopped the girl from reading too far into. “Don’t ever touch me like that again!” Kennedy warns, laying out her command before resetting her attention on the man’s proclamation, “and how would I have gotten hurt? What? Am I running around the hall with scissors or something!?” “You don’t know what people can be capable of!” Chris quickly exclaims back, not yet noticing the irony behind that statement that only he, and he alone, can pick up on. “There’s no one here!” Kennedy shouts in return, waving her hands through an entirely-empty waiting area, not a soul to be seen or heard in sight. “Well, if there was- things could be a lot different right now” Chris twists, his composure thrown so far off that his mind can’t wrap itself around better responses, something the young girl recognises. Shaking her head as she throws her hands out, Kennedy squints at the man in great disgust, watching him attempt to steady his breathing as he places his hands to each hip, trying to collect himself until the girl begins to speak. “I don’t care if mom does- I don’t trust you” the girl declares, not needing to add anything more than what she’s already said, a proclamation that the misdeed-committed doctor takes genuine displeasure in. Frowning, Chris parts his lips to speak before thinking better of the decision, his eyes lowering for a moment before he finally forces the words out, “I’m really disappointed to hear that.” With the shake of her head, Kennedy turns away and begins walking back the way she’d come, returning to the studio as Chris watches on, hands still placed on his hips as the frown he sports grows wider. | In a makeshift camp on the highest level of a nearby hotel, Jaime watches the sun begin to rise on a new day as the flames continue to eat away at what remains of the sky-piercing tower. “They’re on their way up now, chancellor” Blake remarks, stood beside the room’s entrance as the woman’s he’s sworn to serve and protect remains glued to the farthest window, taking in the display whilst she still can, strangely fascinated by such a destructive presentation. After a few minutes pass, a set of knocks are given on the opposite side of the door, prompting Blake to expose the room to those on the other side. “Here he is, chancellor” Wilfred proclaims, leading a man by the collar of his American military uniform, the displeased look on the prisoner’s face much less pronounced than she’d otherwise anticipated it to be. “Walked up to us with his arms raised and confessed to the whole thing” the quick-tempered, desperate to prove himself militia figure concludes, asserting his dominance by shoving the man in the back, letting him fall to the ground without a care in the world. “Calm it down there, Willy” Jaime orders, turning away from the fire-lit spectacle just beyond the view of her suite to address the elephant in the room, his unapologetic demeanour made obvious as he climbs to his knees. “Well I’m glad these circumstances are a lot more preferable than the last time I had to grill someone for answers” Jaime remarks, crossing her arms as she stands before the knelt man, whose eyes refuse to remove themselves from the ground before her feet. “Let’s start out with this- should I kill you or should I not?” the chancellor asks aloud, waiting for an answer from her captive audience, his momentary reluctance to do so prompting her to just remain patient longer. “You should not, ma’am” the man replies, answering the question asked and only that, not offering a word more than what he’s asked to provide. With a nod, Jaime stands with her thoughts for a moment before pulling in a deep breath, rummaging through the folder’s-worth of questions she can ask before settling on just one. “In that case, why not?” the woman finally inquires, remaining stoic as she waits for a response. “Because-” the uniformed man replies, reaching into his pocket to remove a single grenade, its appearance prompting the woman to widen her eyes just slightly, -I wouldn’t give you the chance to.” With flaring nostrils, Jaime turns her attention toward the small group of men standing near the front of the suite, their faces all tensing with disappointment in themselves for having overlooked their objective. “You didn’t check him for weapons?” Jaime growls toward her detail, their clenched teeth and stare toward the heavens making it clear they regret it just as much as their chancellor does. “It’s the only way they would’ve gotten me to come up here without a fight. It's probably best that they didn’t check” the as-of-yet unnamed man remarks, finding the woman ahead relocking sights with him, their minds reaching a shared train of thought. “And why did you want to come up here?” Jaime follows-up, curious to the man’s motivations for obvious reasons. “Because I needed to meet you” the man responds, speaking through a soft tone of voice the longer he proceeds, continuing to maintain the practice of only answering enough to satisfy the questions asked of him. “And you did that?” Jaime queries, pointing her finger in the direction of the flame-encompassed tower just a few kilometres away from the scene’s epicentre. “Yes, I did-” the man replies, gently rattling the grenade he continues to wield before her and the first hand of the republic’s detail, “-obviously.” Puckering her lips, the chancellor sucks on her teeth before pulling her head back, nodding to herself before following up. “Why?-” the woman responds, still curious to the man’s motivations, taking her eyes to the nametag he wears atop his heart, “-why would you do that, Travis?” Lifting his chin ever-so-slightly, the captive prisoner responds as requested, “it was the closest thing to a signal flare I could find.” The answer one from a place of honesty, Travis continues looking the woman in the eyes as she fits the puzzle pieces together, filling in the gaps as best she can. “Why are you leading the peacekeepers out here?” Jaime wonders aloud, continuing to rephrase her question before taking notice of the man’s prominent head shake, “-why bring the peac-?” “I’m not” Travis quickly responds once the chancellor ceases her question, his head shaking as he lifts his chin further, finally locking eyes with the woman without the intent of pulling them away, “those people are not my group.” Her confusion only growing, Jaime repositions herself as she goes to cross her arms, parting her lips in the same breath before her ears are called to the attention of the distant buzz just beyond her window. Their sights stolen just as their chancellor’s are, the security detail pan their attention toward the burning tower, their focus captured just as the rest of the room’s is. Making for the window she’d begun the interrogation standing beside, Jaime rests her hand against the concrete divider between her window and the one beside it, looking out into the horizon and past the burning skeleton standing before her, called to the hair-raising sight. “Those are my people” Travis remarks, ironically enough- the only inhabitant of the room not setting his sights on the near-distance. With a scowl, Jaime lets an unsteady breath leave her nose as she captures the sight her prisoner speaks of, the buzzing only growing louder the closer it comes to the building she occupies. Just past the burning tower, a fleet of helicopters tear through the sky inbound for greater Los Angeles, following the flames to their destination. With a glance back at the centre of the room, Jaime locks eyes with the uniformed man, his undisturbed expression far different than what the rest of her detail wears. “Who are you?” the woman asks beneath her breath, not looking for an answer and finally going without one, the only thing providing her with a response being the line of choppers quickly approaching her with purposes as-of-yet unknown. == Dire == Season 4 Premiere
Made to endure the wrath of excessive force, a small cluster of civilians stick to their position, wearing their disgust for the government in power like a badge on their chest. Shoved away by the armed militants, the small group put up the fight that those around them simply wish to steer their nose away from, not wishing to drive the acting general of the Angelino Republic any further from a course they prefer than she already has. “Keep the peace!” the small group howls, maintaining the posture of people simply cooperating with the demand of their immediate authority, stepping back each time the thrust of an armed soldier’s hands pushes into their chest. “Keep the peace!” they continue to cry, their collective voices louder than they had been before Ryan’s blood had been spilled in the public square, though- not by much. Squeezing through the wave of people moving in the direction opposite him, Chevy slips through each part in the sea of equally-uncertain civilians, his pregnant fiance’s hand held in his own. Following the line of the blood that trickles from the body near the stair top, the pair climb the steps with sights set on the double doors, the centre point in which they meet blocked by the bodies of two well-suited men. “Sir, turn around and leave” the first of the men calls out, stepping away from the door with his hand extended, his other resting on the weapon that sits on his hip. Calmly, Chevy keeps his eyes forward, not slowing his progress the slightest amount as he continues walking forward, “move out of the way.” “Sir-” the man reiterates, continuing to hold firm in his position, the extended hand still stretched forward, the opposite still resting its palm against the firearm’s grip, “-I can’t let you in this building.” With the shake of his jaw, Chevy continues marching forward, the distance between himself and the guard closing quickly, “fine then, go get her” he replies, not budging in the face of adversity as the crowd continues to dissipate below. “Sir-” the man responds, taking one final step forward as he and Chevy finally cross paths, his extended hand pressing into the approaching gentleman’s chest and keeping him back, “-please leave.” Looking at the hand still placed against the place between his pecs, the mop-headed, clean-shaven, Colorado-returned man stands in silence for a moment, having failed to release his fiance’s hand once having made it through the crowd amidst the heat of the moment. As if surprised at the display, Chevy’s annoyance takes a turn into anger, which he displays in taking his newly-freed hand and pushing the armed man back with it. “He told you to leave!” the second guard responds, unholstering his weapon with the intent of taking aim at the aggressive survivor, only for the redirected hand of the first guard to impede him, forcing the gun away from readied position and back to the second man’s lap. “Stand down, Wilfred” the first sentry orders, immediately drawing a confused look from his subordinate’s face. “Blake, he just-” Wilfred begins to argue, only for his attempt to prove futile, the voice of his superior cutting him off with a tone equally calm to that of Chevy’s. “I don’t care. I don’t care what he did” Blake replies, turning his eye away from the annoyed guard before setting it back upon the man before him, locking eyes with the aggravated survivor, “the last thing we need is to start firing shots with an angry mob just a couple steps away.” “That won’t be your biggest problem if you don’t move out of the way” Chevy quickly responds, purposefully remaining directly between the placid man and his pregnant love. “Sir, I understand that you’re close to the chancellor, and I mean no offence when I say this-” Blake begins, continuing to maintain the armistice-hopeful demeanour he’s met the man before him with thus far, “-but I think it’s best that you and your wife leave while there’s still some sort of peace intact.” With the slightest scowl, Chevy looks at the man before him with a brief curl of his lip, keeping his voice as unimposing as he can manage to make it. “Well, as much as I appreciate your concern for the well being of my fiance and I- I honestly couldn’t give a shit” he remarks, switching his glance between Blake and Wilfred as he continues to speak, not wishing for either man to miss out on his response. “My fiance and I just got back from a mission that gave your chancellor the ability to broker that deal with Lancaster, and there’s a pretty good reason for me to believe she needs a few friends to talk to” Chevy remarks, getting closer to Blake’s face in a confrontational manner. Stepping out from behind the father to her child, Kayla looks at the increasingly irritated guards and interjects herself before they can be provoked any further. “We really don’t mean to hassle you- I’m sure there’s already plenty for you to worry about- but Chevy’s right” the woman remarks, watching the pair of sentries slowly join her fiance in turning their attention toward her, “she just lost Jordan and has to deal with- that.” Jutting her shoulders in the direction of the increasingly-lessened crowd, Kayla sets the source of her point on the events having just transpired, “I think she needs someone right now.” With his lips pressed together, Blake looks at the woman for a few moments, inevitably returning his attention toward a more-composed Chevy, calmed from his confrontational presentation by his fiance’s more approachable bartering. Turning his head to the side, Blake lets his attention fall to the shoulders of his less-aggravated partner, putting a frown on before nodding, releasing his hand from the weapon on his hip as he steps aside. Letting a deep exhale leave through his nose, Chevy continues to look at the foremost guard with apologetic eyes as Kayla takes his hand into her own, taking her turn to lead the man through the now-parting doors to the new central hub of the Angelino Republic. “Come on in” Jaime exclaims, listening to the door open whilst keeping her eyes toward the window of her office, a vast sea of the charred remnants mother nature has fallen victim to. “Chancellor?” Chevy remarks, following his fiance into the office as his voice prompts the woman to turn around, “what’s all that about?” Shaking her head, Jaime returns the glass to her desk and strolls to the corner of her room, setting her attention on a shelf full of books, all hardcover and all in excess of two hundred pages. “I don’t know what you’re talking about” she replies, flipping through the first few pages of a novel with a bright red cover before returning it to the nook. “And you don’t really need to ‘cause it’s not that important” Kayla intervenes, standing the closest to the woman’s desk as her husband-to-be resides a few steps behind, his hands dangling by each side. “I’m gonna assume that’s because you think what I just did is?” Jaime responds, departing the wooden shelf in favour of her desk, her hand held out to reclaim the glass as her friend replies. “You just shot a man in front of, well- everyone” Kayla answers, not waiting long before the actions find an expected voice to defend them. “I shot the man that killed Jordan” Jaime corrects, a statement that doesn’t change the issue her close acquaintance takes in the situation. “It doesn’t matter who you killed, it matters that you did it in front of- what? Thousands of people?” Kayla replies, attempting to continue before Jaime interrupts her the moment her question is finished being raised. “Come here” the proclaimed chancellor remarks, curling her finger toward the couple before walking for the back of her office, “come here” she repeats, doubling down on her gesture before taking a stand beside the large window, leaving the floor for them to occupy. With a passing look to each other, Kayla and Chevy silently gesture to one another in search for a response, one that the gentleman provides by stepping ahead, leading the pair toward the destination they’ve been requested for. “Take a look for yourselves. Take a good, long look” Jaime mutters, pressing her shoulder into the wall as the couple stand before the sunlight, peering into the distance to see a seemingly-endless ocean of burned trees and charred plant life. “You wanna see a world where the people matter? There- you’re looking at it” Jaime proclaims, able to notice the look of shock the couple take from the picture even though they try hard to hide it, neither having anticipated such a bleak, hopeless illustration to be the backdrop of a once massive city. “That’s what the old world led to. Corrupt people taking advantage of the system, sucking every last drop of money out of it, and then literally leaving the people to die” Jaime remarks, stepping away from the wall in an effort of returning to her desk, looking down at the heavily-marked calendar that rests atop it. “The people elected them. They were gullible and easily manipulated and it led to this” she continues, motioning her hand to the window before lowering it to her desk, “-and this.” “Just as they put those people in charge, they put me in charge” the chancellor recalls, again setting her glass down as the engaged couple pull away from the blackened, discarded old guard left in the Angelino Republic’s rear view mirror. “If they want to protest me? Fine. They don’t have to like what I have to say anymore than I have to give into their every-goddamn-demand” Jaime remarks, pressing her leading foot hard into the ground as finger points to the floor, “but I’ll be damned if I have to fall because they’re so eager to repeat the same mistakes that got us here in the first place.” “And what mistakes are those?” Kayla quickly asks aloud, challenging the woman not to leave her statement open-ended, wishing for her friend to leave the discussion off with a declaration instead. “The mistake of forgetting how we got here and what exactly all of this is” Jaime again proclaims, motioning her hand throughout the final resting place of a once-American democracy, now an Angelino fortress. “They can blame me for whatever they want. They can say I’m this, or I’m that- whatever. But they do not get to lose sight of the bigger picture” Jaime concludes, pulling back to stiffen her posture, looking at the couple with determined eyes, unwavering in the stance she takes under any circumstances, “there is no Angelino Republic without Jaime Morris.” = 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 = Walking past her former security detail’s blanket-covered body, Jaime walks through the dungeon with purpose, her hands hanging freely by each side as she sets her attention on one specific room. “She’s all yours, ma’am” Blake remarks, stepping aside as he opens the door to the interrogation room for his chancellor, “she came in willingly.” Coming to a stop just past the doorway, Jaime stands in attention at the woman that sits before her, the willing participant sitting with her hands folded atop a metal table, wearing an approachable face. “Thanks for coming in” the chancellor remarks in a calm, low voice as she watches the shoulders shrug on the woman ahead of her. “You were gonna bring me in anyway” Julia replies, voluntarily positioning herself on the opposite side of the table from what she’d become accustomed to, “I figured I’d save you the time and get on with it.” Remaining still as a statue, Jaime continues to look the woman in the eyes as she reads her person, investigating her expression just as she does the woman’s posture, eventually finding little reason not to step closer to the table and occupy a chair of her own. “Tell me what he was right about” Jaime cuts to the chase, sliding a chair out from the corner of the room before seating herself in it, both eyes held firmly upon the prominent doctor. “Not much clearly” Julia mocks with a slight smile, her head tilting to one side before she quickly drops the amused grin, reclaiming her serious-sounding demeanour. “He was right about Lazarus” Julia confesses, earning a mostly-unchanged squint from the woman ahead, the secret she hides already anticipated by the woman across from her, “but he didn’t tell you why I killed him.” Trying to regain her composure, Jaime sits in her seat with a silent anger, its rise somewhat halted by the unexpected admission of guilt she’s been presented with, almost too honest to be truly enraged over. Taking the chancellor’s silence as the nod of approval to continue speaking, Julia twists her tongue in ways that craft the neatest tale to spin, filling the holes her story presents with pieces- whilst they fit- don’t belong to the puzzle itself. “I’d been supplying the peacekeepers for a few weeks- trying to keep them content enough so they didn’t pose any bigger issue than, well- the one they did” she begins, interrupted by the sound of a surprisingly calm voice across from her. “Supplying them with what and why?” Jaime inquires, sitting back in her chair as she slowly crosses her arms, too interested in the guilt-ridden web being spun, though anxious to see if a metaphorical spider still occupies it. “Nothing more than what they needed. Insulin, epinephrine- one guy had asthma, so I threw in an inhaler prescription” Julia explains, “it was never anything hard like what Ryan must’ve been taking. Where he got that stuff I have no idea.” “Get on with it” Jaime interjects, steering the conversation down the route it appears to have been leading, unwilling to let the discourse veer away from its inevitable destination. “The point is, they didn’t like you and I was afraid they’d try their hand at something that would mess things up for everyone” Julia continues, shaking her head as her recollection persists, “I figured that- as long as I was giving them the basic shit to keep themselves going- they’d keep to themselves.” “And this all leads to you murdering my security detail because-?” a sceptical Jaime curiously asks, finally guiding the experienced doctor back toward the initial question, one she doesn’t hesitate in answering. “Because Lazarus took the fact that I kept supplying them after the fact to mean that I was the one that called for them to hit Jordan” Julia replies, a disheartened and insulted tone carried in the weight of her voice, “he branded me as the bad guy and wouldn’t let me explain myself.” “So you killed him” Jaime concludes, the result she’d arrived at immediately argued against amidst by the medical professional, who looks her in the eyes with a slight lean forward. “Only after he pulled a gun on me” Julia responds, finally beginning to circle back to where her web first began spinning, “he tried grabbing me, I knocked the gun away, he lunged and my flight or fight kicked in.” Silent, Jaime remains sat with her arms crossed, looking the woman in the eyes without a single ounce of malice, nor sympathy for her hassle, only interested in hearing the story through to its completion. “I told him to stop, but he didn’t. He came at me, the blade went in and I just kept going until he stopped” Julia admits, shaking her head as what’s been said is left for interpretation, “he dropped to the ground and then Ryan grabbed me by the hair, so I gave him one too.” “And that’s the story?” Jaime quickly responds, hearing all she needed for the chapter of the events to be concluded, though still curious as to her motivation, “why not just let him take you in and explain it to me without bloodshed?” Letting out a chuckle, Julia looks to the table and shakes her head with a grin, an apologetic expression held on her face as she continues to look at the chancellor in refusal. “You’d just lost Jordan, and- even though he deserved it- went onto execute Ryan in front of everyone just a couple hours later” Julia replies, biting her bottom lips as she expresses her dislike with having to say what she does, “if you hear that I helped the people that killed Jordan?- I’d have been killed this morning too.” In utter silence, Jaime continues to lean in her seat as her right leg crosses over her left, bouncing atop her thigh as she stares into Julia’s eyes, reading the woman’s expression for all it’s worth as she, too, remains silent. With the squint of her left eye, the Angelino Republic’s chancellor looks down at the table before repeating the woman’s response in her mind, sorting through what was said before pulling free the most captivating line spoken. “Why are you still supplying them?” Jaime inquires, able to find sense in everything she’d been told other than that, it’s existence not only added where it doesn’t belong, but done so purposefully. “Because it’s the easiest way to keep you in power. It’s just another way of keeping natural self-preservation in line” Julia explains, her eyebrows lowering closer to her eyelids as she speaks, implying the question drives her down a new line of thought. “Granted, there aren’t many of them left- but they’re a group of people you can stick a name on” Julia continues, watching Jaime’s interest draw closer to her court the longer she speaks, “call them ‘the peacekeepers’, paint them out as the bad guys, and give the rest of your Angelino’s a villain to waste their time fighting against.” “Why do they need to be fighting each other?” Jaime responds in question, watching the smirk emerge across the doctor’s face. “‘Cause if they’re busy fighting each other, they won’t waste their time fighting you” Julia answers, no longer satisfied with the web she’s spun, but wanting to add luxuries to the same little home she’d effortlessly constructed. ‘I know the U.S doesn’t have many examples we can take from it in good faith anymore, but let’s try for a second” Julia continues, pulling back in her seat as she explains whilst Jaime leans slightly forward, her back no longer pressing against the metal support behind herself. “The leaders built two different sides, both argued that the other was the bad side, and they constantly feuded with each other instead of the people in charge” Julia persists, “meanwhile, the people at the top kept making millions, getting all buddy-buddy with billionaires, and screwed them over while all the rest watched- and they never paid the price for it!” “What are you getting at?” Jaime queries, looking Julia in the eyes as her arms uncross, placing themselves against the table as she leans into it, “we started off talking about you killing Lazarus- how did we get to this?” “Because what Lazarus zoned-in on me for was trying to keep the peacekeepers in line just enough for them not to make a mess of things” Julia explains, “but now that they have, all you need to do is remind people that they’re the bad guys, and keep everyone else happy and fat. Then you’ve got one side screaming at the other, and you can keep yourself as untouchable as you want while they all think the way to take you down is by crushing the other side.” “That’s ridiculous” Jaime retorts, making peace with the confession in her own way whilst quickly coming to a refusal of the woman’s efforts. “Is it? Alright then, chancellor- how else are you going to keep them in line?” Julia asks, challenging the woman to think through the environment she’s laid out, “on one side, you’ve got a group blaming you for murdering one of their members. On the other, you’ve got the rest of the republic looking at you as the woman that just murdered a man and gave the most-dictatorial speech to them since fuckin’ Hitler.” Parting her lips, Jaime quickly lets out a sigh before lowering her head, staring at the floor whilst Julia continues, not allowing the woman a moment of reprieve to think her way out of the circumstances. “As far as right now goes- you need a bad guy” the medical savant remarks, matching the chancellor’s posture by leaning forward, both hands pressed against the table’s smooth surface as the leader’s eyes lift toward her, “both sides are angry right now, and that bad guy is you.” Nostrils flaring, Jaime keeps her head slightly lifted toward the doctor, remaining entirely silent as she keeps her body leant over the table, listening to the quiet, soundproof room overcome her, not an ounce of sound to be heard from beyond the sturdy walls. Swallowing the spit in her mouth, the chancellor scowls whilst maintaining the locked-sight with Julia, letting the thought float through her mind as options find themselves becoming increasingly limited. | Gripping the wheel tightly, Chevy manoeuvres his truck around a fleet of Jaime’s militia, their arms taken against a rowdy crowd stationed near the makeshift border of the former West Los Angeles. Rolling to a stop, the vehicle parks to the side of a mostly-empty road, the vehicles that had lined the curbs long since removed, left with only a handful of military vehicles and crates of food and ammunition. Climbing out from his seat, Chevy slams his door shut in favour of joining a familiar face at the gates, the woman’s uniform worn with the old flag of Los Angeles on its extension. “They’re not going away” Carly remarks, stood atop one of the walls as her mentor ascends the nearby ladder to reach her, both eyes held on the increasing cluster of survivors simply looking for sanctuary, “they grew by nearly double overnight.” “Where the hell are they all coming from?” Chevy asks in astonishment, finally reaching the platform to look out at a vast sea of desperate civilians, all waving their hats and paper currency in the air with hopes of being picked out of the crowd. “Everywhere” Carly replies, not providing much in the way of hope for the insanity to settle down. “It’s not a secret that Los Ang- I mean, the Republic is still standing” Carly replies, hearing a few sparse voices from within the borders shout as her end of the conversation persists, “whoever got a hold of Jaime’s speech earlier knows we’re up and running.” Confused, Chevy shakes his head at the large gathering of hundreds, each occupying a plot of land amidst the charred rubble of what still stands of the former city that remains beyond their control. “No offence to Jaime, but if I didn’t know any better- I would think what she did earlier would’ve kept me as far away from this place as possible” Chevy remarks, a declaration that Carly refuses. “People are desperate. There’s no government, no order, and no civilisation beyond us” the young woman proclaims, shaking her head as she nudges her shoulders towards the mass horde just beyond them, “at the very least, we’re the last beacon of a functioning society left.” Unsure of how to reply, Chevy opts to remain silent, instead looking out at the large mob as their focuses redirect, slowly but surely silencing their pleas for entry and replacing them with utter bewilderment. “How many more people can we hold? We don’t even have enough food for the people we already have here” the man inquires, slowly watching the eyes of those beneath him continue to pull away, yet to truly strike him with any amount of concern. “I’m sure we can hold as many as we need, we just can’t feed them” Carly replies, keeping her gun at waist-level whilst turning back to look at the man beside her, “we’re already pushing our limits with what we can give to the people here. If this wall falls, or the militia falls, or- whatever- this place is coming down with it.” “Well I know that, it’s-” Chevy begins to reply, matching his friend’s efforts by redirecting his attention to her, only for the sight his eyes fall upon to drift beyond the wall they occupy, his breath taken just as his ability to speak is. “Wh- what?” Carly asks, watching the man’s face slowly lower into a look of disbelief, unable to understand the change in his visage without looking to the source herself, spinning around to take her eyes toward the distance. As the sun begins to set, turning the sky into a shade of solid blue, Jaime leans against her desk beneath the light of a nearby lantern, her hand guiding the tip of a pen over a stack of loose papers, writing out one, long note before her hand begins to cramp. Tossing the instrument aside and placing the letter atop a stack of other, similarly-long stretches of text, the chancellor reaches for a glass of wine as she leans back in her leather chair, called to attention at a rapid set of knocks. “Yeah” Jaime exhaustedly calls out to the figure on the other side of her door, watching the woman who’d raised her enter with her younger sister alongside. “They’re burning it!” Kennedy exclaims, breaking the news before her mother has the chance to, the vague statement putting a confused look on the chancellor’s face. “They’re burning the tower” Alex proclaims in a much more calm tone of voice, the words she uses however do little to lower the confusion her daughter’s had. “What’s going on?” the bemused republic leader queries, watching her sister sprint past her desk in search of the back of the room, the action alone drawing the chancellor’s eyes toward the depth of her office. Soon subsiding, the look of puzzlement on Jaime’s face turns into one of shock, her eyes wandering to where Kennedy resides and where her mother soon descends upon, the target of their attention not remaining a mystery for even a moment longer. Slowly spinning her chair away from the desk, Jaime leaves her glass of wine beside the pile of notes and embarks for the window in the back of the room, her sister standing by one side whilst her mother soon occupies the other. In silence, the woman’s feet carry her toward the unoccupied space in the centre, the Morris family coming together to stare out at the first night the Angelino Republic has to offer. In the great distance, flames soar through the sky, lighting up the evening that soon turns into a dark, starry night in the unoccupied half of Los Angeles. Rising out of the assortment of abandoned, permanently-dark skyscrapers stands the single tower in the heart of the city centre, its once-windows now empty holes that a raging inferno bursts through, setting the entire structure’s length in a flurry of untameable flames. Without the words to say, Jaime stares with wide eyes just as her mother and sister do, the display dawning a new, unpredictable era over the self-proclaimed sovereign nation. Pressing her lips together, the chancellor’s teeth press into each other as her jaw clenches, the hands she holds by each side balling into a fist. Reflected in her eyes, the cylindrical superstructure burns without stop, the presentation not one calling the chancellor to action, but one displaying the impossible task of stopping the ball she’s already put into motion. Letting out a deep sigh through her nose, Jaime continues to stare intensely at the burning high-rise, taking in its ongoing destruction whilst taking her own mental note of the anger that courses through her, ready to take the crisis actor involved head-on. == Dire == |
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