“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 ==
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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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