S4, E7 | The Iron Fist

“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.

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“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.

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“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 ==