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Groaning as he struggles to part his eyes, Jack licks at his dry bottom lip and winces in pain at the lingering soreness in his core muscles, only able to see the rays of sunlight that stretch across the fibreglass ceiling panels. “Good morning” Gamble greets from the visitor’s chair beside the man’s bed, prompting the patient to gradually turn his head, eyeing the man whose orders had led him to being placed into the uncomfortability of a Prince Edward hospital.
“You...” Jack mutters as he licks his lips, pausing as he inspects the sovereign’s posture from head to toe, not seeing a lack of confidence in the seated figurehead, “...look like a history teacher.” Amused, Gamble grins without showing his teeth or offering a laugh, his eyes falling toward the ground as his right leg sits over his left, the inside of one knee resting against the cap of the other, both hands draped over the end of each arm rest. “Believe it or not, I take that as a compliment” the sovereign replies, allowing the patient to take what he will from the reply. “Why?” Jack questions back with a squint, not keen on playing nice with anyone yet to earn such treatment despite his curious position, “I never said you were a good one.” “Because teachers are people of power. Their influence may not be vast, but they do command a class” Gamble replies honestly, aware that the patient’s follow up was not one of seriousness. “If you’d have suggested that I looked like a gas station clerk, we’d be amidst a different story” the sovereign confesses, shrugging as he briefly looks away from the victim, “but suggesting that I appear as if I have power... or that anyone appears as if they have power for that matter... is a compliment.” “Well I never liked my teachers much” Jack follows, yet to move a muscle and not feeling the need to, the decent enough beginning to their conversation in spite of his unpleasant rebuttals not leaving him in the position to yearn for motion, “do you take that as a compliment?” “A teacher is a teacher. Regardless of their ability to do their job, they are people of superior power over others” Gamble again answers honestly, his grin remaining present, “I assure you that I am more than good at my job.” Amused, Jack lifts his brows and turns his face back toward the ceiling, letting out a sigh as he settles into his pillow, making the most of his predicament as the sovereign climbs out of his seat. “You’re not hispanic and you’re not black, which means you’re not Emilio Vasquez or Franklin Carter” Gamble remarks, looking at an open folder on the table a short distance from the victim, which Jack’s eyes soon take toward. “John Callis and Bill Taylor are marked as deceased, so you’re neither of them unless I’m in need of another records keeper” the sovereign continues, looking back toward the man on the hospital bed, “that makes you either Jack O’Rourke or Clint Mintz.” Keeping silent, Jack lets his eyes lift back toward the man beside his bed, their faces looking into each other’s and failing to see any fear in either. “It doesn’t very much matter, but I was curious enough to try and decipher which one you were. You’re valuable to me either way” Gamble explains, lifting the corners of his mouth wider as he looks toward the man’s hand, “I quickly realised that... unless circumstances have changed... only one of you is married.” “I’m a bitter asshole that’s in pain and finds your voice irritating... Get on with it and tell me what you’re here for” Jack sighs, closing his eyes and again returning to the comfort of his pillow. “You’re not going anywhere one way or another. I don’t see what the point of rushing this is for you” Gamble concedes, finally earning a chuckle that prompts his victim to wince in pain, feeling the muscles in his core tense as his wound takes its toll. “I’ve realised that you not only look like a history teacher, but you sound like one too” Jack groans, rolling his eyes beneath the closed lids, lifting both brows as he continues refusing to offer the sovereign the satisfaction of his attention. Less amused, Gamble lets his frown settle into a straight face before looking toward the window, looking out at the Northumberland Strait knowing what resides on the mainland across from him. “I wonder how long it took your wife to die” Gamble murmurs just loud enough for the patient to hear him, provoking the man into opening his lids with eyes of much less amusement than before. Knowing that those words alone will have gotten under the victim’s skin, the sovereign pays no sight to the man’s face and continues journeying toward the window, looking out at the waterfront separating one, organised nation from the other he knows to be embroiled within calamity. “I sent an entire warship full of the dead toward the mainland and had them given an escort directly into Moncton” the man continues to confess, drawing further ire from the victim he pays no attention to, “I can’t imagine anyone would’ve made it out of that alive... Least of whom being your wife.” Turning back to the tune of chains from a pair of handcuffs being jolted out of position, Gamble finds Jack sitting upright in his seat as best as he can, neither hand capable of moving too far away from his side as the restraints keep him at bay. “Do you honestly believe I’d be foolish enough to turn my back on a threat after all that I’ve done here?” the sovereign wonders aloud, genuinely interested in the answer. “Absolutely” Jack responds, surprising the Prince Edward leader as the man scrunches his face with bewilderment, curious for the reason. “Why is that, Mr. O’Rourke?” Gamble questions aloud, earning the continued scowl of the patient. Shaking his head, the Nova Scotia native looks toward the wound at his side and grimaces against the pain in his arm, pressing his lips together and breathing heavily through flared nostrils. “Because you already did” Jack replies, refusing to restrain himself enough to not sit as far up as the handcuffs will allow him, speaking as honestly as he can. “You can shoot me a thousand times. You can drag me onto a boat, or into a car, or onto a plane... drag me anywhere you want...” he furthers, watched on by an intrigued sovereign all too pleased to let the man speak, “...slap however many cuffs you want on me and it won’t change a thing.” Drawing closer, Gamble returns to the man’s bedside and cuts any distance between the pair away, allowing the patient to speak as close to him as humanly possible. “As long as you’re threatening my wife... I will always be a threat to you” Jack concludes, watching the sovereign’s grin slowly roll across his face once more, the investment that the man had paid in hearing out his victim bringing a genuine spark of joy upon the leader. “We’ll talk again soon, Mr. O’Rourke” Gamble concedes with his smile, returning to the table, collecting his folder of information, and walking for the room’s exit without another word, his continued presence neither beckoned for or desired from the bedridden victim. Settling with the thought supplanted into his head within the privacy of his hospital room, Jack lays back onto the thin mattress with a grimace on his face, slightly brought on by the pain whilst mostly being consumed by the dread of the sovereign’s insinuation. = Rise is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 3 onwards, including the first two seasons of Rise: Remastered = “What about returning fire?” Jade questions aloud, continuing to occupy the chancellor’s chair whilst Charlotte sits in the seat opposite herself, Isaac’s tuchus occupying the one beside it. “I stripped all of the ships of their missiles before docking them there the second Gamble started gaining leverage over the bridge” the inaugural and uncrowned chancellor remarks with the shake of her head, “if he could’ve fired rockets at us, he would’ve done so by now.” “He threw everything including the kitchen sink at us the other night. Should it be safe to assume he’s shown us every card he’s got to play?” Emilio wonders from the back of the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Without replying at first, Charlotte rests her arm against the back of her chair and stares at the only other man besides her security detail present, frowning as she shakes her head. “I swear, you are to positions of leadership what cockroaches are to the world. There’s just no getting rid of you” the inaugural chancellor remarks, watching the man roll his eyes and look away as the actual chancellor doubles down. “I assume your answer would be that it’s not safe to assume anything, but answering his question would still be nice of you” Jade comments, watching the woman scoff at the idea. “Short of mutually-assured destruction, I don’t see any leverage Gamble’s got over us other than his navy” Charlotte replies, speaking to the contrary assumption, “unless you’ve come up short in your search for submarines because he got them all first, I doubt he’s got any cards up his sleeve that he hasn’t already shown you.” “It shouldn’t matter after today” Courtney replies from the end of the room, capturing the focus of those in attendance as she sits atop a spare desk, hands wrapping around the ends of its surface. “He attacked us almost thirty six hours ago. He’s been sitting on what he’s done and waiting for our rebuttal” the paramotor-less survivor assures, “he doesn’t expect one, but he’ll have one by the time the sun goes down.” “He hasn’t been waiting for a rebuttal, he’s been waiting for signs of life” Charlotte corrects, leaning back in her seat with the palm of her hand tapping gleefully atop her thigh, “and oh boy is he going to get one.” Bowing her head, Jade presses her hands against the desk and leans forward, preparing to climb out of her seat before hearing the phone ring, reacting with relief for the first few seconds. “I was really worried the phone had been quiet because the lines wouldn’t accept outside calls” the chancellor amusedly confesses, picking up the phone and pressing it to her ear, “this is Jade McKee.” Receiving nothing on the other end of the line for a moment, the Nova Scotian leader squints as she waits for something other than dead silence, hearing the faintest shuffling from the other line and knowing it to imply that someone was present on the other end. “I must admit, there’s a part of me that expected you all to be dead” Gamble admits, earning the briefest widening of the chancellor’s eyes as she looks toward those in the room, placing the receiver on speaker before setting the phone down. “I wouldn’t advise you to use this call as a victory lap, Gamble. Your days are numbered” Jade remarks, purposefully cluing the rest of the room into the man on the opposite end, though his muffled chuckling gets the point across within the seconds that follow. “My days have been numbered since the first moment Ms. Walters got the faintest whiff of dissent from my side of the strait, Ms. McKee” Gamble replies on the other end, holding the phone set in his dominant hand as he stares out at the harbour, “the only wonder is how my number of days outweighed hers.” “What do you want?” Jade questions back, uninterested in small talk whilst the rest of the room gathers around. “In short, you gave me the opportunity to wave the white flag and stop the issues between us from getting any further out of hand” Gamble responds, holding his chin high with pride at the glistening waters that flow into the shores of his capital city, “I’d very much like to offer you the same opportunity.” “You’ve lost your mind if you think we’re the ones that should be waving the white flag” Jade replies, speaking whilst Charlotte struggles to bite her tongue, pressing her eyelids as tightly together as they can manage to prevent herself from interjecting. “Ms. McKee, I admire your perseverance, but there’s a difference between fighting because you can see an opening and throwing hands because you’re too stupid to stay on the ground” Gamble retorts with a grin, “you’re the latter.” “We may have been hit pretty bad by your nonsense, but we’re nowhere close to being done for” Jade responds, gently dragging the phone’s receiver closer as she speaks, “Nova Scotia has bounced back from worse. You are nothing special.” Letting his head fall, Gamble stares at the ground for a moment as the rebuttal sits in his head, bouncing from one side of his brain to the other as he formulates a reply. “We have hostages. Quite a good number of them, to be honest with you” the sovereign remarks, turning back to face the desk that his own, smaller, group of confidants stand opposite. “Are you looking for a negotiation?” Jade wonders back, again hearing a faint chuckle from the other end of the line, the phone that Gamble had been carrying now returning to its normal place. “That depends on whether or not you value the lives of your closest allies” he responds with open-ended insinuation, confusing those on the other line that he has no clue to the presence of. “What does that mean?” Jade inquires, staring at the desk as the next few seconds are spent in silence, allowing the sovereign to get his metaphorical ducks in a row. “I have a man here with nine fingers that I’m quite sure is a friend of your predecessor” Gamble confesses, prompting the chancellor’s eyes to take with the rest of the room’s in looking toward Emilio, “from the records that I’ve kept, I’m certain this man is Mr. Jack O’Rourke.” Staring at the phone with widened eyes, Jade’s predecessor begins losing himself in different tracks of thought before turning away, retreating to the back of the room as Courtney gets up to comfort him, Charlotte watching on with clenched teeth. “I believe that would be one of Emilio’s friends, yes” the chancellor assures, given little alternative in doing so, “what do you expect to accomplish by bringing this up?” Reclaiming his desk chair as if it were a throne, Gamble takes his rightful seat and rests his right arm over the side. “I’m not a fool, Ms. McKee. I am more than sure that there’s a very important pair of ears in that room with you who knows exactly what I’m looking for” the sovereign comments, again provoking the Nova Scotian office’s inhabitants to look in the former chancellor’s direction, his eyes taking back to the handset as a purposefully-menacing greeting is paid to him from the Prince Edward end, “hello, Mr. Vasquez.” His mixture of panic, fright and fear twisting within itself to prompt only a visage of loathing and hatred, Emilio stares at the receiver with wild eyes whilst the rest of the room pulls back in their seats, preparing for a display of anger they’ve begun to expect. Reserved instead, Jade’s direct predecessor confidently walks across the office and leans into the desk, staring down directly upon the machine his voice is projected toward. “Where do you get off on playing these games?” Emilio questions aloud, his tone unmistakeable from anyone else’s as it further deepens the joyous expression on the sovereign’s face. “I’m just doing exactly what you did once upon a time, Mr. Vasquez. I’m doing what I have to in order to get what I want” Gamble answers with ease, resting his head against the cushioned, leather chair, “I’m certainly capable of stomaching my actions, but that doesn’t entirely mean that I wish to commit them.” “Do you expect me to just see eye-to-eye with you? Do you want me to level with you? Do you want me to pat you on the back and say it’ll all work out at the end?” Emilio challenges, offering answers that only one answer is needed to provide. “I want Nova Scotia to concede defeat to Prince Edward and allow us to live our lives undisturbed” Gamble responds, crossing one leg over the other as he spins his chair halfway between the front of the room and his waterfront view. “I’m not even demanding that Nova Scotia surrender to us, I just want our freedom. I want to be left alone” he doubles down, eyeing the glistening reflection on top of the waves as he settles into the discussion. “You’re chasing a dead woman’s fallacy of keeping together what’s meant to be separate. You’re fighting a battle that she began and took part in out of misguided devotion” Gamble explains, sinking further into his chair, “Mr. Vasquez, I’m giving Nova Scotia a chance to free itself of her burden now that it’s been made clear how capable of defending ourselves we are... Take it.” Looking toward the surface of her desk, Jade sits with the man’s comments whilst Charlotte seethes in her seat, staring at the ground and refusing to take part in a command that she no longer has the authority to demand on her own. Standing over the phone with eyes continuing to stare intently at the machine between each placed-down palm of his hands, Emilio stands in silence as his end of the line goes quiet, freeing the space for the sovereign to carry on. “No one wants pointless death, but there’s no such thing as pointless death in war. No one else needs to die, no one else needs to suffer...” Gamble recalls, presenting his voice like one of reasonability and equal concern, “...let’s just let bygones be bygones. What’s done is done and it can all be over now.” Keeping his distance from involvement, Isaac bows his head and folds his hands in his lap, staring at the thumbs he rolls around each other whilst Courtney remains behind, looking at the back of her friend as he stands over the phone. “I’m assuming that you’ll return Jack and every other hostage to us in exchange for our agreement” Emilio remarks, presenting the question more as an open-ended statement. “My only demand in exchange for the hostages... all of the hostages... is to be left alone” Gamble reassures, his comments prompting the first chancellor to leave her seat and walk for the door, “I have no point to hold hostages once my demands are met.” Continuing to keep to herself, Jade listens to the call as a spectator whilst Emilio takes full assumption of the discourse, speaking on her behalf and the community’s. “We have territory that we need to maintain as well. We’ll need ships in order to make that process easier” the Nova Scotian confidant remarks, bowing his head further as the shifting of the sovereign’s face into a grin leaves the slightest shuffle through the phone. “So we’re negotiating?” Gamble queries, leaning forward in his seat whilst running the tip of his thumb over the nails of his right fingers, watching them as he does. “We want a fourth of your ships... Just to make sure we have too many for you to take advantage of any weak navy” Emilio continues, not finished with his demands, “we want your soldiers coming here to clean up the mess they made, and your workforce to contribute the most in rebuilding the bridge.” “I see myself being able to give you one sixth of my ships and all else besides the bridge. I’m afraid I don’t have the materials on hand for the rebuild that you have on land” Gamble responds, only for his sentence’s conclusion to mark a new one’s birth. “I didn’t say I wanted your materials, I said I wanted your workforce” Emilio corrects, stern in his declaration whilst Jade watches on, allowing him to man the discussion’s helm, “we’ll supply the materials, you’ll do the rebuilding.” “As long as you can settle for a sixth of our ships rather than a fourth, I see no reason why this isn’t acceptable” Gamble responds, only to be intrigued by the suggestion that their bartering has yet to conclude. “There’s one more thing I want assurance on” Emilio interjects, prompting the sovereign’s eyes to squint and content visage begin to sport puckered lips. “And what would that be, Mr. Vasquez?” the Prince Edward leader wonders aloud, hearing the hush of anticipation that rolls through the line as the survivor of his attack pauses. Pressing his bottom lip between both rows of teeth, Emilio pulls his eyes away from the machine and looks toward the first chancellor’s now-empty chair, the office’s door having been left open amidst her unannounced departure. “I want to pick up the hostages myself, and I want you to personally escort them to the coastline” Emilio concludes, naming his price and waiting for the man with the open wallet to select which assortment of bills he wishes to pretend his budget is limited to. “Now why would you want to do that, Mr. Vasquez?” Gamble questions back, taking little time in raising the inquiry that feasts upon his mind like a starving child at the aftermath of a Thanksgiving dinner. “Because I don’t trust you” Emilio responds, answering honestly as he begins to take on the smiling expression, looking away from the empty chair and back to the phone, “To me, you are the exact same way as she was. If I’d be cautious with her, I’m going to be cautious with you too” he promises, prompting the sovereign to press his lips to the side of his face on the other line, “if you want me to believe that you’re serious, you’ll meet me when I make landfall.” His smile having entrenched itself like a virus within his face, Gamble hangs his head and begins nodding, licking his lips whilst looking back to those in front of him. “You have a deal, Mr. Vasquez” the sovereign concedes, speaking to a man no more interested in having the conversation than he is at continuing the war. “I’ll be there in two hours. Meet me where the bridge used to connect” Emilio replies, ending the call without allowing the sovereign to respond, looking toward Jade as she leans back in her seat and sighs, locking eyes with her predecessor. Shrugging at the sound of the call ending, Gamble returns the phone to its receiver as the woman across his desk steps forward, both hands coupling together at her lap as she parts her lips. “When shall we retrieve the hostages, sir?” Bristol wonders aloud, watching her superior gently return his back to the restraint of his chair. With the slightest furrowing of his brows, Gamble thinks to himself for a moment, letting the hesitation in his eyes present themselves to those within his company. Pressing the tip of his tongue against the inside of his bottom lip, the sovereign takes in a breath and looks toward the woman that stands at his service. “You won’t...” Gamble remarks, putting an end to the short-lived appearance of relief on the faces of those who joined Bristol in standing at their superior’s command. “I’m sorry?” the woman soon wonders aloud, apologetic for her lack of understanding in the point, “I assumed you were negotiating for our permanent severance?” “I was... It does not seem, however, that it was in good faith” Gamble assures, nodding faintly as he takes the woman’s question and answers it as it was presented, “I have this sneaking suspicion that I’m not seeing eye-to-eye with our adversaries as they’d like me to believe.” Lifting her chin, Bristol inevitably lets her eyes fall to the floor once more as she nods, unsure of what to do next, “so, what should we do with the hostages then?” Continuing to shield his smile behind his lips, Gamble fails to answer at first, taking no amusement despite the expression of humour that his face wears. “...I want them dead” the sovereign answers, not offering the faintest glimpse of hesitation in his response as he remains comfortably seated, “I want them killed, starting with our friend in the hospital, and their faces covered with knapsacks.” “How long do we have?” one of the men behind Bristol wonders aloud, prompting the chancellor to leave his seat and adjust his suit jacket accordingly. “We will all be meeting with Mr. Emilio Vasquez at the old Confederation Bridge onramp within the next one hundred and twenty minutes” Gamble replies, tilting his head to the side to crack the stiffness in his neck as if it were normal, “I want the reanimated to be paraded out with their faces shielded to put up as cooperative of a facade as we’re expected to.” “Sir, it usually takes a bit longer than two hours to reanimate the deceased” Bristol adds in, obviously wearing a look of doubt in her face, “it’s more likely only twenty survivors or so would be up and able to walk.” Pressing his lips together and bowing his head, Gamble lets out a sigh as he takes the information to heart, adjusting his plan as on the fly as he’d come up with it. “Very well. Have the hostages bound and gagged, then keep them alive until we get to the coastline” Gamble replies, lifting one hand toward the door as a gesture for his soldiers to depart, “when I want them dead, I will whistle for you to do as instructed.” Making for the exit, the company he’d shared the phone call with begin to funnel out with Bristol at the back of them, called to remain standing by her superior. “Bristol, I want you to stay here in case they try anything while I’m away” Gamble remarks, stepping around the desk with a hand held toward the seat he leaves behind, wearing a warm visage as he passes the woman, “if I happen to not make it back, I trust that you’ll keep this rebellion alive.” Nodding once to suggest that she understands her command, Bristol watches the man flash a more tooth-presenting grin toward her before bowing out the door, leaving her to the sovereign’s office with her marching orders intact. Still standing near the centre of the room, she looks at the doorway in which her superior’s figure had stepped through for a few seconds after he departs, inevitably turning her eyes toward the open chair and the leaderless desk that it sits before it. “Charlotte! Get back here!” Emilio proclaims in the same moment across the strait, waiting a few moments before watching Irene’s face poke through the door. “Give her a second, she’s on her way back” the secretary remarks, allowing the office to continue surrounding itself within the hush that precedes the founder’s return. “I don’t want your apologies, Emilio. What’s done is-” Charlotte immediately remarks as she enters the room, kept from finishing her thought as the man interrupts her. “Change of plans. We’re launching our attack just after the sun sets” Emilio replies, surprising Jade as she looks toward him, having heard the conversation that had been shared and having assumed that an agreement had been reached. “I’m sorry, did I just blank out for that last little bit there?” Isaac inquires, climbing out of his seat just as the chancellor does, sharing his confusion. “He went after Clint, and Nessie, and Katie. Harvey too, but I... admittedly... only care about the first three” Emilio replies, looking toward the security detail, “I don’t care what he thinks, what he wants, or anything of the sort. He deserves to be beaten, and we have what it takes to beat him.” “We’d still need to launch the boats on time if we’re going through with the original plan” Charlotte warns, a sentiment that Emilio already recognises. “Everything sticks to the plan except for the boats. All of them need to go to Newfoundland other than one. That one will carry myself” the declarative man remarks, finding common ground with the woman he’d taken over for. “So we’d hold off the helicopter attack until we were face to face with Gamble” Charlotte replies, nodding as she crosses her arms, finding pleasure in the altered plan, “I want in on that boat ride too.” Shaking his head, Emilio presents his refusal before verbally doing so, “no, you don’t.” “Why not?” Charlotte quickly wonders back, receiving an answer that puts no one’s head at ease. “Because I said so. And I have an idea that you won’t like, but it needs to happen this way if we’re going to wipe out Gamble, the island, and Newfoundland in one swoop” Emilio replies, pointing in the woman’s direction as she remains quiet, his eyes veering toward the chancellor on the opposite side of himself, “just let me have access to-” “Do you really know what you’re doing?” Jade wonders aloud, cautious in her approach with the man that stops his request in its place, a blank stare being given to the chancellor for a few seconds before he nods assuringly. Pressing her lips together and accepting this answer, Nova Scotia’s leader looks toward Isaac and gives him a nod, “make it clear that Emilio is free to tell anyone as he pleases, and they are to do as he says for the time being” she declares. Bowing his head, Isaac approaches the desk and picks up the phone, immediately going to work on the chancellor’s declaration as the room is left with only four occupants addressing the course of action. “Good luck” Jade remarks, watching the man flash an appreciative smile at her as he backs away from the desk, making for the door as Courtney watches him journey on, refusing to stop him before her eyes take toward Charlotte’s, seeing the founder’s squint of curiosity take shape as they remain in silence, unsure of what will be done by nightfall. == Rise ==
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Ripping shots off into the night, a reinforced military truck paints the overrun roadways red with the blood of runners and litters the once-quiet, post-apocalyptic community with the sounds of chaos it had likely never known prior to tonight. Pulling forward without concern from the figure behind the wheel, the truck gradually makes its way further through the road empty of anything other than the dead and the cars of survivors looking to make a quick getaway to wherever safety can be found.
“Courtney, are you there?” the woman behind the wheel questions aloud, picking the talkie up from the centre console as she takes aim through the windshield-less cruiser. Receiving no answer, the frustrated woman returns fire at whatever walks, gradually strolling through the horde-filled town at a leisurely pace, hoping that no soul she guns down is amongst the living whilst she does. “Can any of you hear me?” Emilio wonders aloud, buckling himself into the centre-most seat behind the front. “Barely” Nessie responds from the passenger seat, looking in Franklin’s direction, but speaking toward their leader. “What the hell happened out there?” the new arrival to the vehicle questions aloud, gently reaching to his side and politely taking Buddy into his arms, the only inhabitant of the minivan capable of hearing the infant’s cries. “I fired my gun under the overpass. The sound echoed” Nessie responds, keeping her answer brief as she pinches her earlobe, pulling it down repeatedly in an attempt at trying to spark further clarity with whatever method proves possible. “Is anyone hurt? Are any of you bitten?” Emilio proceeds to wonder, watching the woman turn back and squint at him, silently gesturing for him to repeat the question. “Are all of you alright?” the man leans in and slowly asks back, watching the woman nod vehemently as she settles back into her seat, looking beyond the window just as the rest of the passengers try to. Unable to avoid it, the horrifying scenes of the dead feasting on bodies who’d belonged to living people only an hour before coupled with the carcasses of the undead that had been put down by people itching to get away, maintain freedom, or restore Nova Scotian glory. Within half an hour, the group comes to a stop at a makeshift barricade just beyond city hall, rolling down their windows as the chancellor’s army takes aim at them. “Are any of you infected?” a soldier questions as Franklin rolls down his window, only for the man behind him to pat his shoulder and relieve him of the responsibility to answer. “No one’s bitten, sir. But everyone in this car- aside from myself- has lost their hearing” Emilio responds, doing so whilst cradling the baby against his chest, “please just ask whatever questions you have to. They can’t hear you in here, and I don’t want them thinking we’re in trouble because it’s taking a long time to let us through.” “No need, sir. They’ll check you inside. Carry on” the soldier replies, moving aside and waving at his men to push around, allowing the vehicle to enter the city hall’s premises and pull up to the capitol building, where hundreds of survivors still gather. Clearing protocol, the group advance upon the orange door at city hall and descend within the bunker, being greeted by a relieved chancellor and the pair of survivors that had made it to her first. “I was starting to think you guys didn’t make it” Jade remarks, rounding the corner and advancing upon the group with open arms, embracing the man at the front of the surviving sestet since it’s the only gesture she can provide that doesn’t trigger alarm bells in her security detail. “Forgive their inability to understand you. Most of them are temporarily deaf” Emilio apologises, stepping aside to allow the group a chance at paying light-hearted greetings with their fellow citizens. “I’ll take Buddy” Alicia says in a slight yell, not wanting to speak too softly, but not able to recognise her pitch. Nodding, Emilio lifts a finger over his lips to gesture her tone lower, allowing the child to return to his mother’s arms before looking toward the armed professional, “anyone else make it?” “Unless some of your friends didn’t get the memo and stayed out there, you’re looking at who we’ve got” Isaac replies, hands kept at his sides as he keeps an eye on the chancellor, not wanting to let her slip away, “how’s it really look out there?” Shaking his head, Emilio looks back at his group just as the private guard does, pressing his lips together for a moment as his mind looks for the best word to use. “Awful” the former, temporary chancellor confesses, visually wearing the dread of whom they may have lost through the night and what they have already seen, “bodies are everywhere. The dead are... everywhere.” “We can clean up the dead” Isaac reassures, patting the man on the shoulder in a moment of shared horror, putting their differences aside in favour of sharing common ground in the moment. “I don’t know if anyone told you this, but Charlotte had been doing tests back when this place was still called the New World Order” the private security comments, doing so as Katie retreats to them, wanting to listen into the conversation and making no secret about it. “It was regular stuff you’d expect. What happens when people get bit? How long does it take them to turn? Just ‘figure out the basics’ kind of stuff” the chancellor’s private guard continues, “one thing she found out was that, for the first few days after death, most corpses come back as what we call ‘runners’. They’re zombies all the same, but they look fresher and... well... they run.” “Well, I don’t remember ‘day zero’ all that well anymore, but I don’t quite remember seeing that” Emilio responds, voicing the same concern that Katie had just been about to. “I remember it pretty well, and I definitely don’t remember seeing that” the younger woman remarks, watching the private guard nod in agreement. “We’re not really sure why. I don’t remember seeing much of that in the early days either, but I won’t pretend this thing came out of nowhere” Isaac explains, passing glances back toward the chancellor every now and then as he mainly addresses those in front of him. “Remember... It hit in waves. Hospitals went down first along with emergency stations. It took some time to fester” the insightful eye explains, “they may have degraded before the issue started really affecting the public, or this may be a sign that this is some sort of disease.” “Disease? Like something we’re infected with?” Katie questions aloud, squinting at the idea as she’s met with momentary silence at first, “but this thing isn’t passed just through being bitten or scratched or something like that, right? That means we all have it.” Nodding, Isaac looks toward the distance of the bunker as his lips part, the man’s tongue pressing against the bottom of his upper front teeth as he thinks of a reply. “As far as I know, no one’s died directly of this thing itself unless they’re bitten by one of the dead. So it might be a disease that we all have and just don’t show signs of” Isaac explains, shaking his head with both hands held out, “I’m not a scientist, so I’m just going off of what she found out.” “What did she find out?” Emilio queries, crossing his arms as Alicia begins to subdue Buddy’s crying in the corner of the room, allowing for more quietude to come over the underground sanctuary. “She only found out that we were all infected with something. Once we die, we come back as one of the dead” Katie answers, looking toward the leader of her group, “don’t you remember? You, me, Bill, and John went out to that air base a little while after the New York compound fell.” “I remember going, but I only remember finding everyone already dead. I think I’ve just cut that part out of my memory” Emilio responds, leaning back as he takes a deep breath. “Well, we all have something. If this is a disease and runners didn’t pop up at the start, it’s because we either didn’t come across them or the disease is getting worse” Isaac replies, watching a concerned look appear upon the faces of both souls that stand before him. “As in worse for people after they die or before it?” Emilio wonders aloud, watching an apologetic frown and uncertain shake of Isaac’s head reply to him before their attention is stolen away. Pushing inward, the bunker’s door allows moonlight to flood into the steps that the inhabitants look toward one after another, the deaf among them being the last to avert their eyes toward the entrance. “Shit” Emilio mutters beneath his breath, watching the unexpected figure confidently step down each stair on her way to the underground level, a perturbed look in her eye and carrying toward her successor. “What the fuck have you idiots done?” Charlotte calmly wonders aloud, though the tone of her voice makes it clear that she’s not interested in anything other than answers and the opportunity to scold those deserving of it. “I thought you were dead” Katie wonders aloud, watching the community’s first chancellor stroll through the dispersed group of mostly-deafened survivors with eyes on just those who’d been responsible for her replacement. “That’s not the first time I’ve heard that” Charlotte declares, pointing in the direction of the man who’d immediately replaced her and the woman he’d chosen to replace himself with, “you and you... follow me.” = Rise is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 3 onwards, including the first two seasons of Rise: Remastered = Scrawling notes down upon a chart, a doctor lets the clipboard rest upon a table in the corner of the room as a pair of footsteps enter, the shoes of the person they belong to being ignored until the point in which the medical professional turns around to see them. “Mr. Gamble, sir!” the man in the white coat proclaims, surprised to see the national sovereign entering the room with two armed men and a woman following closely behind him. “Good morning, doctor” the unexpected visitor remarks, approaching the bed with inspecting eyes being laid upon the patient within the professional’s care, “do you have any information on this man beyond his condition?” Without wasting a moment, the doctor turns back and reclaims his clipboard, inspecting the paper he’d scrawled ramblings upon in search of anything the sovereign appears to desire. “I don’t believe so, sir. He is in stable condition and should make a full recovery, but he will need to remain in care for a few days” the doctor confesses, watching the community’s leader pucker his lips and nod approvingly. “How many did we take in, Ms. Saville?” Gamble wonders aloud, rounding the bed in order to get a closer look at the patient’s face, watching his eyes remain closed as the sedatives continue rendering him in a state of unconsciousness. “Just under two hundred have been accounted for, sir” Bristol answers, coupling her hands at her lap whilst watching the leader advance upon the victim of his attack, a curious squint held in his face. “And am I correct in my assumption that this is the only hostage you’d taken from one of their front lines?” Gamble queries, looking toward the man that stands just behind the sovereign’s former secretary. “He is, sir. And he was a mouthy one at that” the soldier who’d dragged the patient by the legs responds with an unpleasant scowl at the wounded, prompting a grin to spread across the sovereign’s face. “So, we have a civilian hostage that was on the front lines at the time of our attack...” Gamble remarks whilst continuing to stare at the gentleman, soon redirecting his eyes toward the armed figures who’d escorted him into the room, “...it was my understanding that Nova Scotia did not allow such a thing.” “I don’t believe it is allowed, sir” the hostage-taking soldier responds, keeping his rifle aimed at the ground whilst staring at the immobilised invalid. “Which suggests to me that this person is neither a soldier, nor is he a regular civilian” Gamble concludes, looking at the dirty face of the survivor once more before nodding with approval in his assumption, “this suggests he is someone of more importance than most. I assume he was allowed on the front lines, which suggests he’s tied to their leadership.” “Would you like us to inform their chancellor that we have one of her diplomats?” the brazen soldier questions back, failing to receive the eye contact of the sovereign that continues to inspect one of his assault’s victims. “No, I wish for you to find out this man’s identity” Gamble responds, lifting the man’s hospital gown to inspect the wound at his side, seeing the proper stitching work that has patched him up admirably. “There is a shortlist that I have a suspicion he may be found on. It will be in the top drawer on the right side of my desk. Records will be found in a purple binder” Gamble explains, pointing toward Bristol as he continues to stare at the victim, “Ms. Saville will show you. Look for anyone who matches his description.” “Yes, sir” the soldier responds without hesitation, retreating the way that he’d come whilst Bristol follows suit, leaving only the guard tasked with watching over his superior. “Doctor, this man is not to be admitted back into public care with the rest of our hostages” Gamble proclaims, looking toward the professional as he rounds the bedside once more, prepared to leave just as suddenly as he’d entered, “this man may be far too valuable to simply add numbers to the next horde.” | In silence, Charlotte stares at the circular table that she occupies with only the pair of souls she’d called into the room, gently running her finger across the rim of a bourbon glass that she can’t escape the desire to drink from. “How can you overlook something like this?” she wonders aloud with a near-whisper, wearing the exhaustion of a woman who’d gone without sleep and expects to continue as such for much longer than she has. “Because I figured they couldn’t bear to expend such power at once” Jade answers in an equally hushed tone, prompting the inaugural chancellor to press her eyelids shut and shake her head. “They were on the verge of losing power. We had the opening to strike and were focused solely on that” the current Nova Scotian leader continues, earning no reply from one of her predecessors, “we didn’t have a bomb, but we had the chance to do equal damage with less. This was our chance to take them out.” Parting her eyelids, Charlotte remains quiet for a moment as she lifts the glass and takes another swig, not appearing to take any reaction in the bite that her taste buds had become accustomed to throughout the morning. Watching on without the need to take part in the conversation as of yet, Emilio waits for the woman he’d replaced to reply, seeing the helpless visage that she sports as the bunker’s air only seems to grow colder in anticipation. “It will be” the first chancellor finally concedes as she clicks her tongue, surprising those who join her company as they sit back, waiting for clarity on the comment. “If they put in this much power so close to having their lights turn out, they either have reserves we don’t know about or they wanted to immobilise us long enough to get through the dark days unscathed” Charlotte furthers, pressing her bottom lip between her teeth as she leans back in her seat. “If they have reserves, then they may use the power they still have to make it back to the mainland and finish us off. We can’t take that risk” she further explains, only to find criticism from her left. “We don’t have any choice but to. We’re overrun and it will take weeks... maybe months to clean up” Jade responds, allowed to speak without interruption out of respect from her predecessor, “we can’t defend ourselves right now.” “I’m not going to let them get the chance... That’s what I’m saying” Charlotte corrects, watching a confused glare come over the chancellor’s eye, “we’ll have to operate from a much smaller- but secure- home base. For the time being, Nova Scotia operates within just a two mile radius of city hall.” “They may see this as an opportunity to finish us off, but it’s much more likely they’re using this as an aversion” Emilio interjects, wanting to speak for the other- less worrying- half of the concern, “it’s more reasonable to think this was a way of getting us on the ropes long enough for them to get their shit in order for the long haul.” “Which is exactly why we’re not changing our plans” Charlotte responds, pointing in the man’s direction as the chancellor carries on with her confusion. “I’m sorry, what exactly are we preparing for here?” Jade questions aloud, pressing the sides of both hands against the table as she looks toward the woman beside her, “are we preparing for them to invade and finish us off or keep to their island and buy time?” “We’re preparing for both and giving them neither” Charlotte answers, leaning into the table with a finger pressing against its surface, “they’re not expecting us to still attack. If this was a measure to invade the mainland and finish us off, we won’t give them the chance.” Finding the woman’s line of thought, Emilio stares at the table with a nod, his arms staying crossed as he leans further into his chair. “And we’ll still take advantage of their weakness if this was a measure to hold us off until they replenish their reserves...” the woman’s immediate successor concludes, looking at Charlotte as the woman begins flashing a grin at him, “...they expect us to hit the ropes, but we’ll still keep swinging instead of stumbling.” “But the original plan was to attack the refinery in Newfoundland” Jade responds, shaking her head as she leans into the table, “cutting off their supply does more than taking out their mainland.” “It does, but it still leaves them with enough stability back home to regroup and figure out alternatives. Also, there’s a chance they will fight us off in Newfoundland and our attack is for nothing” Charlotte replies, climbing out of her seat with the glass in hand as she begins to pace. “If we hit them in Newfoundland and Prince Edward, then we send their supply into chaos and give them no way to respond” the first chancellor carries on, “besides, hitting Prince Edward might be the only way to leave them so disorganised that they can’t follow through with another attack on the mainland even if that was their plan.” “Then we’d have to attack soon and we don’t have the capabilities for that” Jade replies, finding reluctance to agree with such a statement from the woman that points toward the direction of the bunker’s entrance. “You have warships that were snatched from Prince Edward hidden on land, don’t you? Couple that with the fleet of choppers we’ve got a patrol guarding in the airfield and we’ve got the same offence to use as we did before they attacked” Charlotte remarks, finding hesitation of the chancellor’s own. “But we can’t find submarines in the Chesapeake and that’s the only thing we know Gamble can’t defend against” Jade responds, watching her predecessor scoff, but choosing to continue her remark, “he can shoot down choppers and he can send boats down to take out our ships or worse... recapture them.” “Do you not see what he’s done here, Jade?” Charlotte questions aloud, slowing the roll of the conversation in an effort of digesting what’s already happened. “He just unleashed god knows how many runners on us. Where do you think he got them from?” the woman wonders aloud, watching a profound loss come over the face of the woman that waits for an answer, “those were our people. Those were Nova Scotians stranded in Prince Edward that he must’ve convinced to board the boat in the name of a return home or something like that.” “How would you even-?” Emilio wonders aloud whilst the chancellor remains seated within her hushed stupor, cut off by the woman’s reply as she turns to offer it. “He wouldn’t sacrifice his own if he didn’t have to, so where do you think he’d get so many people and how do you think he could get so many so soon after their death?” Charlotte wonders back, challenging the man to offer her an alternative, “I don’t know how he killed them, but he had our people killed, stuffed onto a boat, and sent storming into Moncton.” “She’s here, Charlotte!” Isaac proclaims from the front of the bunker, drawing the eyes of those within the narrow room and stealing the focus from the conversation at hand. Leading the charge into the corridor, the woman whose name had been beckoned for rounds the corner and finds a sorrowful Courtney gradually descending each step toward the bottom, one step covered after another before she stops at the penultimate stair. Sighing as she lowers herself, the paramotor-less aviator takes a seat on the staircase whilst the hefty bunker doors close shut, her eyes refusing to leave the ground for a few seconds as the chambers go quiet. Catching up as their hearing gradually fights to return to as natural of a state as it can, the remaining survivors who’d spent the last few hours waiting for their fifth sense to return approach the woman, finding her distraught face finally lifting. Seeing Charlotte, Courtney parts her lips with the feeling that she must address the former chancellor’s presence, only to bow her head once more and give up on the effort, not feeling the energy or the desire to do so. “What happened? Are you bitten?” Emilio wonders aloud, hands held out at either side as he looks toward his friend, watching her head shake in refusal without the words to accompany them. “Where are they?” the man proceeds to follow up, having expected her return to not be one that came without the presence of others, taking four steps forward to breach ahead of the rest. Fearing the worst, Emilio lets his hands fall back to his sides as the returning woman lifts her eyes toward him slowly and pulls in a long, steady breath that does nothing to free the weight on her chest. “I don’t know where Jack is” Courtney confesses, shaking her head and dropping her shoulders as she again stares at the ground, “I got to the home and he wasn’t there.” Squinting, Isaac looks at the woman from a few paces off to the side with bewilderment, “did you check the factory?” “I didn’t check the factory but I know he wasn’t there. He wasn’t at the home either” Courtney responds, immediately sparking concern upon the private guard that proceeds to let his eyes fall to the ground in wonderment. “What about Lauren? Where the hell did she go?” Emilio furthers, earning what would barely be considered insight into Jack’s whereabouts and calling into question his other half, watching the woman’s eyes gradually lift back to him with brows raised, her silence in the seconds that proceed prompting hairs to raise on his arms. Tilting to his side, the man’s head keeps staring at the woman for only a moment before his eyelids press together, the slightest amount of breath that his lungs had kept within being expended without a word uttered. “She’s dead” Courtney mutters aloud, dropping her face in the same moment as the group- all of whom having regained enough of their hearing to register what the woman says- reacts to the confession with varying measures of grief. “What the hell happened?” Alicia asks in a near-whisper, her son continuing to sleep as he’s gently cradled in his father’s arms, replacing Emilio’s position at the front of the group as he retreats. “She got bitten and I got caught up trying to clear the horde outside” Courtney admits, solemnly summarising the events as briefly as they can be presented, “she drew them into the house so I could escape.” “Fuck” Katie murmurs, covering her face before dropping to the ground and taking a seat against the wall, reacting similarly to how Alicia does, though the mother remains strong enough to stand as she gently presses her head into the concrete walls of the shelter. “I don’t mean to interfere in your grieving, but I’ve got bigger issues to deal with” Charlotte comments, reuniting the conversation at hand with the one that she’d needed to have prior to her confidant’s arrival. “We need to fight back” Courtney comments from her seat, openly welcoming the change in conversation in an effort to move past the loss that sits on most minds within the bunker’s bomb-proof walls. “That’s what’s going to happen. I don’t care if this was phase one of a bigger invasion or if this was a way of buying time... We’re going to hit them back before they get the next wave or a resupply in order” Charlotte assures, pointing at the woman as the actual chancellor reclaims the floor. “Charlotte, an invasion isn’t possible right now. We don’t have any real, safe, genuine access to the coastline. We don’t even have access to our own Moncton border yet!” Jade proclaims, struggling to see the sense in expecting success of any sort, “we’ve lost ground, we’ve lost people, we’ve lost soldiers, and we still don’t have the subs or something Gamble can’t defend against.” “We’ll gain ground as we go and we’ll call in everyone from the thirteen colonies to Nova Scotia... everyone” Charlotte replies, speaking as if she still retained the title of chancellor. “Boss, first of all... We only have twelve colonies now” Isaac remarks, addressing the Rockford-sized elephant in the room, “second of all, calling everyone up from the colonies wouldn’t just take weeks or months, but it’d pretty much leave nothing to go back to.” “Leave a skeleton crew of however many people each colony needs to keep itself in operation. Let the children and their mothers that live there stay there... Everyone else comes north” Charlotte declares, watching Isaac nod before pausing for a moment, pressing his lips together before worryingly looking toward Jade. “Boss, I kind of need Jade’s approval for that” the man confesses, apologetically looking toward his former superior as she goes to speak. “You do what Charlotte tells you unless I order you otherwise” Jade interjects, looking toward the woman she’d kept from replying with a shrug, “I had my turn and I fucked it up” she confesses. “While that’s admittedly true, I don’t want you thinking that makes you unworthy of leadership” Charlotte reiterates, watched on by those in Emilio’s group as they continue processing their friend’s loss, “you’re a peacetime leader, Jade... not a wartime one.” “I still want to know how we plan on keeping Gamble from reclaiming his ships or shooting down our helicopters” Jade confesses, accepting the woman’s terms with hope of receiving clarity. “We’ll tell the pilots to purposefully crash their aircraft and captains to purposefully sink their ships. We can’t really afford to concern ourselves with where we’ll be after the operation” Charlotte responds, turning her face toward her previous guard and pointing her finger at him. “I want all men and childless children from the twelve colonies- minus those chosen to be the skeleton crew- en route to Nova Scotia immediately” she declares, taking her place back upon the throne of power, “I want a skeleton crew of soldiers clearing the roadway out to the Gunningsville Bridge. We’ll use it to filter in the new arrivals. Get pilots in the air and send a fourth of them to the refinery in Newfoundland. The rest go to Prince Edward.” “What about the ships, chancellor?” Isaac wonders aloud, addressing the woman by her former title in light of how fitting it appears to still be. “All of them to Newfoundland. Choppers attack from the air, the boats get soldiers on the ground and in the building” Charlotte responds, attempting to carry on before hearing an interjection from aside. “Harvey and I want to be on those ships” Katie interjects, watching the man fight himself up to both feet as the interrupting woman steps forward, “we’re the only soldiers you have that know the ins and outs of that building.” “Harvey’s still recovering from the boat crash” Jade points out, watching the man struggle to stand up, but doing so successfully. “If he can stand up and walk, we don’t have much of a choice. He’s not just one of the only soldiers we have with a layout, he’s one of the only soldiers we’ve got period” Charlotte responds, making the decision her successor refused to, “the mission is not to take over the refinery, the mission is to take out the refinery. Don’t give them a lifeline.” “And how do you want to attack Prince Edward through the air? Send troops on the ground? Fire down on them from the sky?” Isaac queries, watching the Nova Scotian founder turn to him with a sadistic grin. “We’ve got choppers with rockets and machine guns, right? We’ve also got a few hundred grenades, right?” Charlotte grins, watching the guard’s head nod approvingly as she juts her chin toward him, taking pleasure in her declaration, “they wanted war, Isaac... light them the fuck up.” == Rise == The first to make it to the bottom of the stairs, Franklin hurries to the apartment’s entrance and stands beside the door, pausing for a moment to look back at those following him as he gathers a look at the area. Quiet and reserved, the man stares beyond the window at a rabid wave of the undead, all breaking off individually before coming together in smaller groups as they find helpless prey unfortunate enough to fall into their grasp.
“Jesus” Alicia whispers, wielding a pistol whilst a hunting knife is strapped to her right hip, her left arm holding the small child that continues to sleep within the comfort of his mother’s care, unaware of what kind of world he’s been brought into. “I’ve never seen them move that fast” Clint mutters, standing directly in front of the door with a butcher’s knife in hand, staring at the stragglers that pass from one side of the road to another every few feet. “Why the hell do they look so similar to us?” Nessie wonders aloud, standing on the opposite side of Franklin whilst Alicia hangs beside her, amazed by the otherworldly sights she’d yet to experience. “I don’t care what they look like, I just care that we get to the car in one piece” the larger man with a cap on his shortened arm replies, having topped the metal topper with a blade whilst his dominant hand wields a pistol just the same as the one in his wife’s possession, “is everyone ready?” “Not really, but I don’t see much of a different choice” Nessie replies, gesturing for Alicia to step back as she prepares herself to follow the man’s lead through the door. “Let’s just get this done with, Franklin” Clint responds, assuring the man that he’s just as on board with the plan as his sister is. “What about you, honey?” Franklin questions back, looking toward his wife as she wears the scowl of a mother perturbed at being threatened by the horde that she’s intent on making it to the other side of. “Let’s go” she grunts, furrowing her brows as the man lets out a deep exhale, quickly throwing the door open and leading the charge into the main roads. Immediately captured in the sight of a runner, Franklin watches the fresh body dash at him before throwing his left arm forward, getting lucky in piercing the undead through the eye before putting up a brief struggle in freeing the blade from the zombie’s orbital socket. “They’re not as weak as the ones we’re used to! Don’t let them drag you to the ground!” Franklin shouts, turning his back to the horde for a brief moment as he maintains the group’s lead. Huddling together in a line, the survivors continue sprinting through the roads as quickly as they can, their scent moving too fast for any zombies without a keen eye for the difference of life and death to take notice of with any relative ease. Using speed to their benefit, the foursome maintain pace with the scavenging corpses that surround them, passing by some whilst trying to avoid others, earning a glimpse at the threats they face in the process. With the slightest amount of weight loss made apparent in their visages, the corpses look just as any of the living would apart from their pale, moonlight-like complexion and beady, white eyes. Firing off a round from the back of the group as a corpse sprints toward Alicia, Clint maintains the group’s resiliency nearly a block through their escape whilst giving away their position to any straggler yet to take notice of them. “Move! Move!” Franklin howls back, running past one corpse just as the gunshot goes off, seeing the undead body immediately set its sights upon them and taking that as the blowing of their cover. Seeing a lifeless, bloody hand protrude from beneath a mass of six zombies as he leads the charge beneath an overpass, Franklin keeps his stride intact and cares only to make it to the other side. “Franklin! On your right!” Nessie proclaims from a few feet behind, still trailing ahead of Alicia as the man at the front of the pack turns his front toward a sprinting corpse. Wanting to avoid a repeat of his first kill, the larger man squares up with a physically inferior corpse and matches its run, leaping into the air before pressing the bottom of his boot against the body’s chest. With ease, Franklin throws the corpse back and easily punctures the zombie’s eye with his blade, though he faces as much difficulty with pulling it free as he had the first time. “Franklin! Another on your left!” Nessie shouts, watching a second zombie sprint from the end of the tunnel they pass beneath with eyes on the group’s line leader. “I’m trying! I can’t-!” Franklin grunts back, dropping to a knee as he continues cocking his arm back desperately to free his dagger from the corpse’s eye, cutting himself off as he succeeds and throws himself back in the process. “Franklin!” Nessie calls out, watching the man fall back as they begin passing him, watching the zombie quickly descend upon the man that has still yet to get himself off the ground. “Fran-!” she screams once more, watching the time he has to work with quickly run out before the echoing sound of a gunshot fires through the tunnel with the impossibly deafening blast of a jet shattering the sound barrier. “Ah fuck!” Nessie instead hollers as she immediately drops to her knees just as the rest of the group does whilst their hearing evades them, replaced with a piercing ring of the gunfire as the zombie who’d threatened to do Franklin harm is shot down by the man’s wife. With wide eyes and her mouth agape, Alicia stumbles back before falling onto her behind whilst the pistol falls from her possession, cradling Buddy as tightly against her as she ever had before. Lifting his shoulders over his ears, Clint grimaces in pain as his body tenses up, reacting to the roar of defensive fire that leaves him as the only one with enough strength to keep his feet beneath him. “Jesus fucking Christ!” Franklin exclaims as he falls back to the ground he’d just attempted to push himself off of, shielding his face for only a brief moment before instinctively looking back, watching his wife fall to the ground with his son at her side whilst the siblings react in equal awe. Beckoning all life and lack of it in the area to their location as opposed to the distant gunfire that may have averted suspicion, the group sit in wait for those within the horde too captivated by the shockwave of sound that draws even those with a meal already caught toward the scene of chaos. Descended upon by Prince Edward’s horde, the group writhe in pain and do whatever they can to gather their bearings, too stunned by the violent burst to act accordingly, but still having enough wherewithal to try returning to action. = Rise is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 3 onwards, including the first two seasons of Rise: Remastered = Punching through the windows of a quiet home in the Nova Scotian outskirts, a group of corpses crawl through windows and follow each other within, looking around the flat for the voices that they’d heard within. Growing to a size of nearly two dozen, the stragglers invade the private property and begin descending upon whatever quarters of the building will afford them the subject that they’d been brought to. Growling as they descend upon the mostly cleaned-out garage, some zombies find an absence of life within whilst others traverse the second level, looking for the soul whose tone had lured them out of their destinationless wandering and toward the solution to their hunger. Into an empty bedroom, a lone corpse inspects the area for only a brief moment before turning away, passing a closed, closet door on his journey away. Within the cramped confines, Lauren sits with a revolver in her lap, the six bullets loaded into it being the only thing keeping her from assured demise as she waits out the invasion. With her knees pressing against her chest, the woman stares at the ground as a single strip of moonlight from the bedroom window spills in through the cornices of her closet door, keeping her breaths still and patient as she waits for the distant sound of horrifying hissing to pass like a bad storm. | “Katie Dawson and Harvey Collins!” the woman calls out, hurrying to the well-guarded, orange door at the back of city hall, calling out to a man that immediately steps aside, pulling the entrance away and granting the couple sanctuary. Descending the steps into an unwelcomingly lit room with cold, white lighting, Katie assists the still battered and damaged Harvey to the basement level as Isaac rounds the corner. “Where are the others?” he wonders aloud, unable to keep the chancellor from following him around the corner in much the same step. “I don’t know, we’re still in the hotel room a few blocks from here!” Katie responds, assisting her fellow traveller in safely taking a seat upon the ground, finally having been given an opportunity to rest. “What are the roads like out there?” Isaac proceeds to wonder aloud, looking for insight that he finds hard to come by in the situation they find themselves. “Pretty much clear. I wouldn’t have been able to carry Harvey here if they were as bad as what you were saying!” Katie proclaims, watching the chancellor step past her security detail and approach the way she’d entered. “Ms. McKee, step back and-!” Isaac proclaims, grabbing the woman’s arm before violently ripping her back, only for the woman’s hands to shove at him as her body collides with his own. “She said it’s clear, let me go out there!” Jade shouts, desperate to remove herself from the cramped den she’d been forced into, only to frustratedly give up hope when a pair of armed soldiers descend the steps from above, hearing the sound of chaos unfold one level below and intent on keeping it from getting out of hand. “It’s not safe and you’re not going anywhere” Isaac doubles down, bearing his aggravation as the chancellor defiantly shoves him back once more. “This is...” Jade shouts back in much the same breath, only to cut herself off and bow her head with a grimace on her face, both hands pressing against her sides as she presses her eyelids together. Keeping to themselves, Katie and Harvey watch the woman’s irritated demeanour carry itself to the now six survivors in the room as she falls silent, stewing with her own displeasure before finishing her statement in a murmur. “...my fucking fault” Jade concludes, shaking her head with shame before turning away from all that share the space with her. “Are you all good down here, Isaac?” one of the two soldiers questions aloud, watching the man’s hand silently lift toward them as his head nods, eyes soon taking back to the chancellor as his reinforcements return to the shelter’s exterior. “I put them in a box and threw it in the corner. I figured they were at least stretched too thin to make the first move” Jade groans, walking up to a wall that she soon stops at when there’s no further ground for her to walk toward. “I spent too much time planning to hit them when they were vulnerable that I overlooked them...” she continues, sitting within the scathing hostility that she holds for her own miscalculation before looking toward the bunker’s entrance, “...now Nova Scotia’s going to fall because I was too preoccupied to see this coming.” | Staring wildly at his wife, Franklin presses his teeth together and fires himself off the ground, racing to the woman’s aid before taking her by the arm, pulling her off the ground as Clint watches, wincing in pain as he looks back to find a wave of zombies running toward them at full speed. “Where’s my gun!?” Alicia shouts toward her husband as her words go ignored, failing to hit the man’s ear as he pulls her the way they’d been running just as she fails to hear them herself. “Come on!” Nessie howls as she pulls her hand toward herself, gesturing for her brother to bypass the stinging sensation drifting from one side of his head to the other. Unable to hear anything, not even his own breath, Clint takes off running after his sister as they follow the lead of the pair that continue journeying ahead of them. Using the hand that carries his pistol to continue pushing his wife forward, Franklin allows the woman to remain ahead of him as he inspects the area, wanting to ensure that her blindside is covered as he glances down each end of the road. Spotting a military convoy in the distance of the street they sprint across, the man takes a glance behind himself as the siblings struggle to keep up, trying to run as quickly as they can whilst fighting against fatigue and shock. Knowing the parking garage to be right around the corner, Franklin fires a pair of rounds toward two zombies that stand between themselves and their destination, freeing the path for his wife to enter the structure on her lonesome. “Come on! Hurry up!” he shouts at the survivors trailing behind him, still unable to hear his own voice as he turns his weapon toward the dead that tail them. Cementing his feet, Franklin fires off a pair of bullets into the first two corpses that emerge from the darkness, lending cover to Clint as he hurries behind. Whilst Nessie closes in, the cover fire-providing survivor points toward the sky and lifts four fingers toward her face, silently telling her where to go as she passes him. Firing off three more shots, the father empties his magazine and begins switching it out for another as Clint finally closes in, joining him in ascending the levels of the parking structure. From the opposite and mostly-unoccupied end of the building, a sedan quickly turns into the garage and makes for the higher levels, climbing faster than those who run on foot as the undead horde continues chasing after Franklin and Clint. | Watching lights grow more dim the further she strays from Moncton, Courtney flies through the night with eyes passing glances toward a calm-looking Prince Edward, hearing the sound of beeping emerge from the talkie on her right shoulder. “Courtney Golden currently in flight. Repeat if I need you to” the woman greets, continuing to survey the area below as trees and buildings pass without care, knowing where she’d intended to go and how far she has before reaching the destination. “Where are you?” a female voice wonders aloud, her question barely caught by the woman continuing to sway back and forth through the sky at the sound of bullets even though they don’t appear to target her. “I’m en route to Jack O’Rourke and Lauren Salcedo’s home in Scoudouc, where are you?” Courtney replies, drifting harder to the right as she adjusts the course her compass insists that she’s on. “Where you left me obviously. What on earth is going on?” the woman on the radio questions back, speaking from a place of scenic peace as she stands outside the cellar doors of a bunker in the middle of an open plot of land. “Prince Edward have sent a horde of the undead into Nova Scotia. Jade McKee’s hearing that there are thousands” Courtney responds, keeping her comments as brief as they can be. Turning away from the open view, the woman radioing her airborne friend looks back toward the bunker she’d emerged from with great curiosity. “How the fuck did she let that happen?” the aggravated woman calls back, wanting an answer as she fights against getting in her vehicle and driving into the heat of chaos. “No one’s sure. Just stay in the bunker and keep a low profile” Courtney replies, surveying the landscape she knows to be right around her destination. “That hasn’t worked out for anyone so far, Courtney” the irritated woman responds, speaking through a harsh gust of wind as the paramotorist fights to stay on course. “I did not hear you, please repeat” the mid-flight survivor calls back, drawing the further ire of the woman that contacts her. “Fuck waiting around, I’m going to Moncton” the survivor on solid ground replies, only to immediately receive words of refusal. “These are fresh zombies! They’re runners, alright!?” Courtney proclaims, prompting the woman that had already begun advancing upon the two door pickup to stop in her tracks and think twice about her choice. “Get in the bunker and don’t come out! I’ve got to go!” Courtney proclaims, severing communication at that as she begins cutting down on her altitude, descending upon the road she knows the private residence to reside at the end of. “Courtney, don’t!” the woman quickly replies, standing out in the open for a few seconds without hearing word back, bringing her to the verge of spiking the talkie down like a football in anger. Kicking dirt along the rough terrain, the woman with newly-highlighted strands of blonde hair frustratedly looks into the distance with hands upon her hips. Unable to settle the hostile tension that fills her muscles like blood to veins, the survivor lets her eyes drift back toward the open field before they take toward a carport in the near distance, the quiet rush of morning air wafting over her face as a smile soon takes toward it. | Rounding the corner as she gasps for air, Alicia begins briskly jogging further into the parking structure’s fourth level. Glancing back without a soul to find trailing her, the woman fights against her conscience to dispel the cruel thoughts that begin fluttering into her mind. Catching her breath as she slows her stroll down, the mother checks her surroundings for a moment before finally advancing upon her minivan, seemingly having found sanctuary as she reaches for the handle. With a brief tug, the woman finds resistance from the door as it refuses to open, a few further attempts failing before she realises that the car is locked and she does not have the keys. “Fuck” she whispers to herself, looking at Buddy as his face wells with tears, his eyes and nose scrunching as she attempts to rock him back into his slumber, returning to the garage with a look toward the way she’d come, still finding no one emerging from the slope. “Fuck fuck fuck!” she quips again in quick succession, worried for the well being of her husband whilst also focusing her attention on the child whose wailing she cannot hear. From the other end of the garage, a zombie speeds toward the woman with her back turned toward him, eyes maintaining their attention on the ascent her friends have yet to make. Biting her bottom lip, the mother shakes her head and turns back for the vehicle without a clue on what to expect, finally catching a glimpse of the corpse that proceeds to chase her down. Without fear or a pistol, Alicia is forced to grab the hunting knife from her hip and ready herself for a fight, watching the straggler sprint as fast as its relatively thin legs will allow as a set of headlights round the corner directly opposite her. Unable to hear the commotion unravelling, Alicia’s fight-ready stance begins to subside as she begins stepping back, not wanting to leave herself getting caught in the middle of a bloodbath. Blaring the horn, the driver of the oncoming sedan fails to grab the attention of the corpse that he soon runs into at full speed, snapping its spine and folding it over the hood of the car before stomping on the brakes, allowing its paralysed body to collapse to the cement ground as the baby-holding survivor quickly steps aside. “Get in!” Emilio shouts as he rolls down the window, pulling up to the woman as his words fail to catch her ear, though the sight of him also eludes her as the rest of her group begin finally closing in on their destination. Panting for breath, Nessie makes it to level ground and quickly takes notice of the folded-up zombie lying limp on the ground, biting at the air without the ability to move its extremities. “Go! Go! Go!” Franklin shouts, throwing his pistol-wielding hand forward as he follows Clint to the top, moving aside at the glimpse of headlights before they pull up to the garage’s entrance. Grabbing a shotgun out of the backseat, Emilio steps out of his car and rushes toward the group, allowing his sedan to hold back the corpses that trip over each other whilst trying to climb over the new obstruction. “Let’s move! Go!” the sedan’s abandoner proclaims, following Nessie into the backseat as Franklin starts the car, quickly hitting the gas as he pulls out of the spot before barely managing to evade the horde. Just missing the minivan, the swath of undead corpses have their pale skin splashed with the bright red colour of the vehicle’s tail lights before it burns rubber in the direction that Emilio had come, barely managing to evade their fate with sanctuary secured for now. | Looking at her hand in the sliver of moonlight that spills through her bedroom window, Lauren sits with her thoughts in an uncomfortable solitude whilst the groaning within her home continues. Whilst the revolver rests upon her thigh, the free hand she now wields allows its index finger to gently glide around the wedding band that her husband had once given to her, declaring his vow to be with her for the rest of their lives with the sneaking undertone that the woman now begins to settle with. “Until death do us part” she whispers to herself, keeping her voice low enough to evade those beyond her bedroom before letting her eyes fall back upon the revolver’s trigger, seeing it reflect the night’s illumination before pressing her lips together. Reclaiming her weapon, Lauren emerges from the storage compartment and quietly closes the bedroom door, locking it shut before sneaking across the room. Allowing the continued grunting beyond her room to go about its natural course, Lauren lets out a sigh and stares into the open field beside her home, the floodlights that consistently find themselves triggered by the roaming runners beyond them allowing her the sight of how truly overrun Nova Scotia has become. Passing each other without any target in sight, zombies sprint in all directions looking for something to settle their starvation, holding out hope that something with the vast swaths of farmland will fall into their grasp like prey. Staying hushed, Lauren watches the corpses venture around her yard as if they were dogs that she’d simply wished to spectate out of curiosity for where they’d frolick to next, doing so only until the distant sight of a light in the sky brings with it a gradually-louder whirring sound as it descends upon the earth. Gently patting her side, Courtney feels the bulbous shell of a grenade at it sits within the pocket of her knapsack, assuring herself that she has its aid as she reaches for the machete on her hip. Inside the home, the sounds of hissing and grunting begin retreating the way that they’d come whilst the fan’s sound grows louder, freeing Lauren to leave the room if she pleases, though she remains staring out at the heavens until the moment her fellow survivor’s figure falls out of view. Swooping toward the ground, Courtney catches the sight of one straggler on his lonesome and glides toward the ground, swinging the blade of her weapon through the centre of his face and leaving him to fall dead. Ascending once more, the woman gains some ground before quickly adjusting course, coming back in for a second round in search of a body that journeys out on its lonesome. Having gone nearly thirty seconds without seeing the survivor’s figure, Lauren again watches the woman ascend from the ground with drops of blood falling to earth from the blade that she wields, gaining some distance before spinning around for a third go at it. Feeling the wind crash against her face with such speeds that it feels cold, Courtney tugs at the cord to her left and crosses her legs as high into the air as she can manage, searching out the third corpse that she beheads with absolute delight. Throwing her feet into a pair of running shoes, Lauren lets the revolver fall onto the foot of her bed as she slides off her wedding band, looking at it apologetically for a moment before pressing it against her lips. With a forceful kiss, the woman bids adieu to the ring and leaves it nicely propped up in the centre of her pillow, reclaiming her weapon and advancing upon the door that she proceeds to close behind her, prepared for the worst with hopes for the best. Again falling from the heavens with a fourth swing, Courtney barely evades the grasp of a corpse as she climbs back into the sky, holding out hope that her words will be heard now that it becomes less safe to fall back to earth. “Wait until I shoot my gun, Lauren!” she proclaims, circling the home as low as she can, trying to ensure that her proclamation will reach the ears they’re meant for, “after I do, wait a minute and go for your car!” Hearing this declaration inside, Lauren descends upon the living room with eyes following the ceiling, moving with the sound of the woman’s voice as she draws nearer to the end of the corridor. Allowing the whirring to continue growing distant, the half-dressed woman continues to bide her time as she looks out toward the front of her home, finding an army of the undead running around in circles trying to chase the woman mid-flight like a dog runs after a car. “Ah fuck!” Lauren grunts as quietly as she can, falling forward as she’s tackled to the ground from behind, caught off guard by a runner that hadn’t managed to follow the rest of the horde in time. Crawling onto her back, the woman kicks the straggler away with her foot as its mouth dives upon her collarbone, earning enough distance to hurl it down the stairs whilst the whirring continues to grow distant. Gasping for air at the sudden attack, Lauren crawls off the ground and goes back to the kitchen, grabbing a knife before turning back and being pressed against the counter. Turning in the air, Courtney directs herself toward where she’d come, freeing the pistol from her knapsack before beginning the descent toward earth once more. “Fuck off! Fuck off!” Lauren hisses as she curls her bottom lip inward, aiming the blade toward the corpse’s face as it presses her against the countertop, its chomping teeth growing closer to her throat before she kicks it in the leg and drops it to the ground. In the same moment, Courtney attempts to return her machete to her hip before failing to latch it properly, watching it fall to earth before instinctively reaching out to try and reclaim it before it's too late, leaning too far in the process and increasing her dip unintentionally. Taking only one moment to stabilise herself, Lauren pushes herself against the counter as far as she can whilst reaching down, unable to stop the corpse from sinking his teeth into her thigh in the second that it takes her to stab him in the head. Righting her flight path, Courtney barely prevents herself from colliding with the ground as a shriek of pain emanates from within the home, surprising her just enough for one of the stragglers to wrap his hand around her boot and attempt to pull her down. Violently stabbing the corpse in the skull as she screams, Lauren watches its teeth rip a chunk of flesh from her leg before climbing atop him, pinning it to the ground and successfully penetrating its skull, repeatedly piercing it through the eye as she continues screaming. “Fuck off!” she howls as her howls of pain mix with tears as they stream down her face, carried alongside her as she throws herself to the ground, wrapping her hands around the infection that is as equally painful as it is damning. “No!” Courtney grunts as she kicks the hand away, diving toward the ground before throwing her foot against it, attempting to re-establish flight before bracing for impact as her course is thrown off and her body veers away. Knowing that she can’t stay in the air for long, the woman dips away from the air and directs herself toward a tree, doing whatever she can to land anywhere but on the ground. Sobbing in both pain and horror as she grabs at her leg, Lauren whimpers on the floor as the sound of whirring suddenly comes to a stop, replaced with a distant shriek of pain that prompts her to immediately disregard the shooting pain that ravages her extremity. “Lauren! Get to your car!” Courtney shouts in the distance, too far away to be close to the home, but not so far away that she sounds like she’s airborne. With wide eyes, Lauren gasps for air as she looks toward the living room, hearing the woman who’d made the journey in an effort to save her that appears to have arrived to do so just too late. Gasping for air as her chin presses upon the linoleum flooring, the infected survivor valiantly musters the strength to push herself off the ground and reach for the keys on the countertop, her eyes angrily staring at the front door as the sound of growling grows more distant. Bleeding from the face at the branch that had cracked her beneath the eye, Courtney hovers over the ground as the cords of her parachute dangle her from the tree, the ten feet between her shoes and the reaching hands of the undead being all that separates her from becoming one of them. “I’ll find a way out of this! Just get to your car and get to city hall!” Courtney proclaims, tugging at the branches as she keeps glancing at the horde beneath her, knowing that her predicament has at least afforded the homeowner a chance at living. Clenching her teeth with every step, Lauren fights through the living room and unlocks the front door, stepping beyond the home’s entrance and out onto the front steps with blood gushing down her leg. “Go! Get to your car!” Courtney hurriedly proclaims at the first sight of the woman, seeing an unmoved and uninterested demeanour in the hasteless manner in which she stands. With a perfect look at the dangling woman through the still-triggered storm lights, Lauren stands with a grimace on her face before looking toward the keys in her hand, ignoring the consistent call of her name that leaves the lips of the paramotorist. “I’m bit!” Lauren angrily shouts, leaving the air to go quiet for a moment before tossing the keys toward the car just as she had the last time she’d been forced to take shelter from a horde within a quiet, residential home. Earning no response from the woman in the tree, the survivor lifts the revolver forward and fires five shots into the pile of runners at the paramotorist’s feet, “tell Jack I’m sorry!” Watching the woman’s concession from her perilous position, Courtney lifts her legs as far from the horde as she can manage as their numbers begin retreating toward the woman that now walks calmly back into her home. Slamming the front door shut, Lauren presses her lips together and climbs the steps back toward her living room, making down the hallway she’d confidently stepped through and returning to her room, closing the door and locking it behind her. Climbing into bed as the sound of chaos breaks into her home once more, Lauren whistles as loudly as she can whilst throwing the covers over her, gently reclaiming her wedding ring into her free hand and holding it tight. With a deep breath, she looks at the ceiling as the sound of fists slamming against her door provokes an oddly humoured chuckle out of her, amusing her in the moments that she uses to make her departure as peaceful as it can be. Grunting as quietly as she can manage as she undoes her restraints, Courtney gasps for a breath as she falls to the ground, twisting her ankle in the process as she collides with the field. “Ah, you-” she grimaces as her mouth stretches open, trying to conceal her sounds of pain as she pushes herself off the ground as quickly as she can. *pop* Stopped short of her declaration, Courtney looks in the home’s direction as the air goes quiet once more, only bodies of the undead funnelling in through shattered windows and beaten in entrances to be seen as she lets go of her inhale. Limping through the field, the woman finally makes it back to the property and reclaims the keys from just beside their door, her eyes welling up with tears as she looks back at the residence and the distant sounds of growling, knowing where they come from. Slamming the door shut as she sits in the driver’s seat, Courtney wallows in her disappointment whilst the world outside goes awfully quiet, replaced instead with the hush of the car’s interior in the seconds that it takes her to present the courage necessary to twist the key in the ignition. With a sombre look of defeat in her face, the grounded paramotorist pulls the car out of the driveway and takes off toward Moncton followed by stragglers as they dash out of the home, helpless to keep up with the cruiser that now leaves them behind- surrounded by grief. == Rise == With his rifle in hand, an unenthused soldier stares at the ground and begins kicking pebbles across the ground as he finds his own boot coming across them. “Why are you looking at the ground?” Jack queries aloud, sitting on the hood of a sedan with his arms crossed, hands pressing against his each side as he watches the unimpressive militant pace around the road.
“What else am I supposed to be looking at?” the army man questions back, earning a squint from the chainmail supplier who takes time out of his day to follow through on Isaac’s suggestion. “You’re on guard. I’d figure you would be looking for the thing you’re supposed to be guarding against” Jack replies with a sarcastic tone, lifting his eyebrows toward the soldier that appears scrawny in comparison to him. “Since when did the dead ever sneak up on anyone?” the militant with the thick, northeastern accent questions back, pointing toward the distance with a scowl, “if they come here, we put them down. It ain’t no big deal.” Rolling his eyes, Jack shakes his head and steps away from the car, rounding its side before beginning to walk off the way he’d come. “Where are you going?” the weak-seeming serviceman calls out, letting his rifle fall to his side as his other hand holds out by the other. “Isaac suggested that I come out here and see just how important the armour that I’m making you people is and why it’s important to get the process moving faster” Jack confesses, turning back with a similarly loud tone to that of the militant, “I was hesitant at first, but then I figured I might as well just go ahead and-” Lunging forward as a bullet rips through the front of his skull, the scrawny soldier stumbles upon the dirt-covered road that he’d been pacing atop, the sound of gunfire ripping through the air prompting Jack to duck toward the ground and shield his head with his arms as the militant steps forward. Failing to catch up with his own brain, the Nova Scotia fighter limps forward whilst the rest of his fleet call out the need for a defence against an enemy they cannot see, unable to help their fellow warrior as he drops to a knee before colliding with the ground. Nearly two hundred kilometres in the opposite direction, smaller patrol boats reach the coastline of Nova Scotian soil and free their fleet of armed inhabitants to spill into the sandy beaches of the motherland. With their weapons drawn in the small town of Cocagne, the soldiers advance upon the private homes of the mainland people and slam their fists against the door, proclaiming their desire for an answer whilst masquerading their identities as members of the chancellor’s military. One after another, doors are opened politely from within for the first few inches before being violently thrust inward from the outside for the final few, granting the armed men and women entry at their own behest. In other directions, phone lines are cut, roads are jammed, and cars are broken into by whomever has set foot upon land that doesn’t welcome them as it once had, everything of value being inspected for its worth and stripped to its barest, least-important composition. “We’re approaching mainland, Mr. Gamble” a bald man with a captain’s hat remarks through the handset radio, his eyes falling upon the sparse lights of the mainland’s more remote coastline. “Are you intent on following through with my demands, captain?” Gamble proceeds to wonder back from an equipment-strewn room within the Charlottetown capital building, standing over a heavy radio with the handset within his palm. “I am, sir” the captain responds, receiving no reply as he hangs the radio up once more, taking a seat at the controls before bracing for the impact he can no longer stop. Beyond his quarters and on mainland, the air is quiet and still for all other than the violently shifting of the waves along the coastline, forced to part at the keel’s demand as the ship scrapes along the bottom of the water. Grinding against the earth whilst manoeuvring impossibly to the left, the gargantuan vessel slams into a pedestrian bridge in the town of Shediac whilst splintering at the bottom as it continues drifting to the side, exposing the bottom of the ship to a rapid intake of water. Clenching his teeth, the captain pauses for a moment as the ship comes to a halt before leaving his seat, walking onto the deck and looking into the distance with hands wrapping around the bannister. Clicking his tongue, the captain steadies his breaths before running back into the cabin and blaring the horn as the residents of the homes that surround his wrecked battleship begin spilling out from their homes. For a few seconds of silence, the purposeful destroyer of the battlewagon listens into the distance with hopes of hearing what he’d been told to expect, his hand wrapping around a handle attached to a makeshift cord just beyond his cabin as he returns to the salty, springtime air of the Nova Scotian night. *pop, pop, pop* In quick succession, three gunshots fire into the air within the distance as a fleet of privately-owned vehicles begin shining their headlights down the stretch of roadway leading to the now-impassable bridge. With a forceful tug, the captain plunges the handle downward and watches from above as the entire upper half of his vessel’s starboard side collapses from the top, acting like a ramp that proceeds to slam into the ground with such force that it partially breaks. Nevertheless offering a route from the compromised ship to the mainland, the dramatic angle of the steel wall forms a ramp that immediately releases the sound of violent monstrosity from within. Stomping on the brakes only a few hundred metres away from the stranded vessel, the vehicles that had diverted course to attend toward their Prince Edward battleship watch as over ten thousand recently-deceased members of the undead fling themself out of the boat like a boulder catapulted through the skies. Screaming in horror, the citizens of Nova Scotia attempt to flee back into their homes as the horde begins running at their fullest speed, their skin still fresh, though pale. Eyes white like marbles, the undead run at whatever moves whilst the sedan horns begin blaring for their attention, taking off down the road as the swath of zombies follow in their lead, only a few stragglers staying behind to attack at the doors to those who seek shelter from them. Upon his job being handled, the captain of the warship begins retreating, allowing his propellers to carry him back as the vessel continues taking on water. At the highest speed it can reach for only ten minutes, the massive ship finally reaches water too deep for it to not fear being swallowed up beneath the waves, taking on an increased submersion to the point in which the bow’s surface begins falling below. Turning his back to Nova Scotia and facing his homeland, the captain salutes the direction home and puts a gun to his temple, firing once and dropping dead on the floor to his cabin. Drowning into the frosty depths, Prince Edward’s warship drops beneath the waves and sinks with a whimper, the one life lost on board having belonged to the only man that it will carry to the bottom of the northern Atlantic. Staying behind those whilst others had stolen cars and driven them south, other soldiers rip people from their homes and drag them, kicking and screaming, aboard the cruiser ships that they’d disembarked from. Returning the way they came, most Prince Edward militants stay behind to carry out their national sovereign’s demands, though a few are lucky enough to board the ships with the intent of returning home, snatching people of the dead of night in the process to take back toward the separatist island. Leading the dead with the sound of their blaring horn, the sedans cut short through the roundabout at the end of the street and take toward Highway 15, driving at a speed only the fast paced zombies and their unending stamina can keep in line with. For almost fifteen minutes, their journey carries them through nothing of importance, only to reveal the lights of Moncton’s outskirts near the end of their journey, carrying them into enemy territory without much of a force waiting to stop them. = Rise is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 3 onwards, including the first two seasons of Rise: Remastered = Picking himself off the ground, Jack dashes forward and stays close to the ground, ripping the rifle out of the hands of the soldier whose brain still functions enough to try as best as it will to hold onto the weapon. “Get the chancellor in the know now!” a soldier proclaims from a few paces off to the survivor’s side, hearing gunshots whip past his face as he helplessly looks into the darkness for a glimpse at who’s advancing upon them. With a weapon of his own, the married, chainmail crafter keeps low to the ground and fires into the distance without knowing who he shoots at, finding himself lucky to hear a groan as the gunfire continues to appear sparse. “Get out of here!” a soldier proclaims, pulling Jack by the collar of his shirt out of cover and throwing him in the direction of home. “Ah!” the same militant cries out the moment that he lets go of the survivor’s shirt, eating a bullet to the lower back before being silenced by a second one that rips through his neck. Following through on the order nonetheless, Jack hurries back to his vehicle as the Nova Scotian forces begin returning fire, aiming for the cry of who the visitor had struck with hopes of obtaining further luck. “Someone get the chancellor-!” the soldier barks out once more, only to be silenced as his brains splatter on the ground behind him, a bullet tearing through the back of his skull and sending his body crashing into the ground. Pulling the door to his vehicle out, Jack hears one shot rip into the entrance’s metal exterior before a second one quickly strikes him in the arm as he attempts to climb into the driver’s seat. “Ah! You fucking cunt!” he howls out as he falls to the ground, his back pressing against the backseat’s entry as he clutches at his left bicep, grimacing in pain as his teeth clench together. Having no time to gather his bearings, Jack throws himself off the ground and lifts the rifle toward the distance, still unable to make out who he’s firing at before deciding not to pull the trigger. With a quick exhale, the survivor throws the rifle into the passenger’s seat instead and ducks behind the wheel, forcing himself to bypass the pain of his wounded arm in reaching for the keys in his jean pocket. Falling short, Jack’s hand swipes wildly at the air as a leather belt is wrapped around his throat from beyond the car, dragging him from behind the wheel as a second man takes advantage of the surprise attack to place a second strap around his face and between his teeth. “Get him back! Get him back!” a larger soldier grunts in as close to a whisper as he can present, striking Jack in the face twice with hopes of subduing his fight enough for the job to no longer need him. Running back for the weapon that the survivor had tossed into his passenger’s seat, the larger Prince Edward fighter takes his attention toward Nova Scotia’s frontline whilst his partner continues to drag the snatched man through grassy fields. Slightly dazed, Jack breathes through his nose for a few moments until he feels the hill-like terrain begin to level out, using it to his advantage to push his feet off the ground. Getting enough leverage to free his mouth from the makeshift gag, Jack throws himself in the same direction that the hostage taker had been pulling him toward, suddenly throwing his weight into the soldier and taking them both to the ground. “We’re surrounded on all-!” the man cries out as he turns onto his good arm, pushing himself off the ground with eyes on the figure who’d attempted to steal him away, only for his voice to be cut short at the sound of a second gunshot. “Arngh!” Jack grunts as he drops to both knees once more, plummeting back to the ground within moments as his hands press against his abdomen, trying to put pressure on the wound at his side that enters just above his left hip and rips out the other side. Gasping for air as his eyes go wide, the frontline’s visitor finds himself helplessly falling into a pair of soldiers’ possession, being dragged onto the bed of a truck that immediately takes off further into the unclaimed terrain of wider Nova Scotia once all three men are brought on board. | As his wife presses her back against his side, Franklin lays asleep in his bed with his hand resting atop his stomach, face turned toward the ceiling as he spends the night doing exactly as it was intended for. “Wake up! Wake up!” Nessie grunts as she storms into their room, dressed in pyjamas just as he and Alicia are with an unpleasant hiss in her voice, not wanting to be loud enough to wake the baby one room over. “Hmm... what?” Alicia murmurs, startled out of her sleep for only a moment before the exhaustion hits her at once, eyes trying to force themselves back together as she holds onto the breath she’d gasped in. “Nessie, what the fuck are-?” Franklin groans as he lifts his head off the pillow, staring at the woman that frantically shakes them awake, jostling them from whatever slumber their bodies had wanted to retain. “Moncton’s getting overrun, wake the fuck up!” Nessie worriedly hisses again, running up to Franklin’s nightstand and flicking on the lamp that sits atop it. “What the fuck are you talking about?” the man speaks with a high-pitched, nasal-powered squeak, pushing himself further up in the bed as Alicia instinctively rolls out of it. “Gamble’s assholes are invading and they’ve got hundreds of zombies with them!” Nessie responds in a civil tone, though louder than the hiss she had been speaking with. Suddenly losing any interest he’d had in going back to bed, Franklin looks at the woman with wild eyes before looking toward his wife, who stands in nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of shorts on her own side of the bed, looking back at him with the same amount of concern. | “Who the hell is calling me so early in the-?” Emilio frustratedly answers the ringing phone beside his bed, still cloaked in the darkness of his flat’s bedroom as he hears the chancellor’s voice rapidly spit information at him. “Where the hell are you!?” the man quickly proceeds to wonder aloud, recognising the severity of the declaration that she makes as he rolls out of bed. “City hall’s basement. Charlotte renovated it into a shelter and Isaac isn’t letting me out of it” Jade responds, sitting in the corner of the room with eyes full of concern. “So what the hell are the rest of us supposed to do!?” Emilio questions aloud, scrambling to carry the phone with him as he races for the dresser, looking through stacks of clothing to shield his mostly-nude body, wearing only a pair of boxers. “Tell the others to get here. You’re part of my staff and you’re allowed entry too” Jade responds, looking at the door to the small room that she resides in, seeing the nod of approval that Isaac offers back to her. “The staff won’t be able to get to you in time, so you’ll have to get over here yourselves” the chancellor adds on, speaking to a man she expects to continue assuming is on the other line until she hears a dial tone, “I’m sorry, Emilio. I don’t know what else to tell you.” “It’s fine, we’ll be there as soon as we can” Emilio responds reassuringly, not wanting to worry the woman with concerns over him with a wider community to look after, “stay safe and we’ll look for the basement when we get to city hall.” “It’ll be an orange door near the back of the secretary’s office when you do” Jade responds, hearing the motion of the man’s head as it nods on the other end of the line before it falls silent, replaced only with the dial tone she’d been dreading. | “He just told me to tell you to get to city hall... That’s all I know” Courtney responds, running to the other end of the home where her closet resides, the laces on her boots having yet to be tied. “I’m like half an hour away from city hall, Courtney! I can’t get there in time!” Lauren responds, struggling through the darkness of her home as she reaches for the switch at the front of the room, completely nude aside from a pair of flip flops she’d slid her feet into. “I don’t know what else to tell-” Courtney retorts, sliding open the closet door before her eyes go from their state of concern to a more widened state, naturally resting upon the contraption that hides within. “Courtney!? Hello!?” Lauren questions aloud, worrying that the other end of the call had been dropped before hearing a reassuring interruption from the other end. “I’m here! I’m here! Lauren, stay put...” Courtney answers, violently pulling on the backpack and circular fan that had been stashed away in the side of her closet, tossing it onto the now-unmade bed as she hears footsteps hurry around one floor above and beyond the door to her flat. “...I’ve got my paramotor and I’m coming to get you” the woman proclaims, tucking the phone into her ear whilst Lauren ventures through the corridor and into the living room. “Jack! Where the fuck are you!?” Lauren calls out, throwing on a tanktop and a pair of shorts as she journeys into the home’s commons area, passing by unoccupied rooms with their windows left open for the sake of circulation. “Just stay put and I’ll pound on the garage door when I’m-” Courtney continues, only to hear the sound of a gasp cut her off from the other end of the line, bringing immediate concern over the flight-ready survivor. “What!? What happened!?” the paramotorist wonders aloud, carrying the knapsack over her shoulder and the fan in the grasp of her non-dominant hand, failing to hear a reply from the woman on the other end at first. Standing in the living room with eyes glued upon the front yard, Lauren watches the floodlights at the front of her home shoot on, illuminating a front yard that watches one zombie after another run through the grass and descend upon the home, closing in on her in a situation that’s all-too familiar. “You’re too late” the near-nude woman confesses, short of breath as she watches the haunting of what she’d assumed to be days she’d never have to live once more come back around and present itself to her conscience. | “No, I can see it, Em!” Alicia proclaims, responding to the man on the other line as she stares through the curtain of her window, looking at the streets below as rapid runners fire themselves at whatever moves. “Do you have any way out!?” Emilio wonders aloud, his right leg bouncing against the ground anxiously as he shakes a pair of car keys in his hand, staring out at the roads beyond his building, their streets mostly empty of anything other than the unfortunate few who have yet to know what’s unfolding. “We can make it to the ground level, but we’re going to have to fight in order to make it through to our car!” Alicia proclaims, looking away from the chaos as it unfolds at the bottom of their residence, her eyes drifting toward the sleeping child that her husband gently bounces in his arms. “Ahh fuck!’ Emilio groans, rolling his eyes in frustration as he looks toward the door to his apartment, hearing footsteps hurry across the hall in the same direction he’d intended to go. “Em, we’re not going to make it far out there without fighting. We’ll have to bring Buddy, and he’s not going to sleep through this” Alicia explains, strapped for options as residents throughout their flat make equal dashes from one end of the hallway to the other, locking themselves in apartments or taking their chances at escaping the horrors that flood the streets around them. “You guys can stay here with Buddy while Clint and I run out to your car” Nessie interjects, her voice just barely able to make itself out through the phone in Alicia’s hand, reaching the ear of the man on the other line. “We probably wouldn’t be able to park right outside, but we’d definitely be able to get it closer than a parking garage two blocks away” she doubles down, speaking to a pair of worried parents unsure of what other options they have. “As appreciative as we are, those dead out there don’t look normal... they’re running” Franklin responds, failing to see much of a benefit in comparison to just running out as a foursome, “if one of you gets tagged, I’m not so sure the other one is going to be long for the world far after that.” “Let’s not think about death please... Let’s just focus on getting to the car” Alicia responds, hearing the rush of the man on the other end of the call from her. “Listen, Alicia. I’m not sure I’ll be able to come up with any idea that you wouldn’t get to. You either run for it or you don’t” Emilio confesses, the haste in his voice making it clear that he’s on just as borrowed time as the rest of them are. “Go, Em! Go! We’ll see you at city hall!” Alicia proclaims, wanting to allow the man his chance at freedom whilst he has it as their call comes to an end, freeing the lone traveller up to take his chances at escape. Not wanting to take his chances with whatever surprises could greet him between parting elevator doors, Emilio instead opts to take the stairs toward ground level, reaching the lobby of his flat before hurriedly spilling into the street. “There’s a horde coming! Everyone get to shelter or run! The zombies are fast!” the man proclaims, letting his words bounce off the buildings that surround him as he marches for his car on the side of the road, carrying a rifle across his chest whilst those in the street begin following his lead. One after another, the civilians begin looking for a place to hide away or begin running for their cars, doing so as Emilio pulls onto the main road and begins driving east. Momentarily glancing into his rear-view mirror every few seconds, Emilio finds himself staring back at a mostly empty road, holding out half of his mind toward waiting for a horde to swarm the roads as if they were flooding waves of the ocean. “Faster cowboy, faster...” he comments to himself as he pushes further down on the pedal, ignoring traffic lights on his way through downtown Moncton before stomping his foot on the brake the second he sees something in the rear view mirror that he didn’t anticipate. In just as sudden of a moment as it had appeared, the image he’d captured in the backseat of the car finds itself having vanished, replaced only with the right eye of the driver as he lifts his head toward the reflective panel. Breathing heavily as his body rests and the sound of screeching rubber subsides, Emilio stares intently at the bench behind his chair and waits for the image to pop up once more, waiting and waiting for an event that continues to evade him. Giving up on the renewed apparition, Emilio instead takes his sights back toward the windshield before glancing at the sight just off to his left, the greenlight that sits beside an equally-green sign reading ‘Shediac Rd.’ capturing his line of sight. With parted lips and hands grasping on the top half of the steering wheel, the driver passes a glance toward the route he’d initially set out to take before ridding the thought from his mind, taking a second glance at the empty backseat through his rear view mirror before directing his vehicle northbound. | “People are... gonna notice... that...” Jack murmurs, as his legs are picked up from the truck bed, carried in the arms of one as his upper body falls into the grasp of another once he’s dragged off. “Shut the fuck up and keep that shirt on your wound” the unpleasant soldier orders, joining his fellow serviceman in stepping upon the pebble beaches of Nova Scotia’s northern coastline, feeling the rush of cool air breeze over his face just as the wounded hostage does. “I’ll kill you” Jack grunts, his face covered in sweat and mouth agape, gasping for air as his hands press upon the wound, struggling to stop the bleeding that he’s mostly controlled throughout the bumpy journey. “I’m sure every tough guy I’ve given the riot act to has thought that before, but I’m still here” the soldier who’d dragged him through a field by the mouth only fifteen minutes prior responds, smiling at the man that he carries at the ankles, “you’re about to really see just how powerless you are.” Being given little fight, the soldier carries Jack up the ramp to a cruiser ship where a group of other civilians also reside, having been huddled into corners with their hands tied behind their backs. “Hey you... medical girl!” one of the men proclaims, snapping their fingers at the woman in bloody scrubs before silently pointing toward the man that they drop on the vessel’s ground. Dropping to her knees, the nurse presses her fingers to the side of Jack’s neck as she removes the blood-soaked shirt from his wound, inspecting it for herself with a visual look of concerned uncertainty. Not caring much for the reaction that he receives, the wounded survivor looks toward the young man with a scruffy beard at his feet, noticing the grin that he receives from the figure responsible for putting the slug in his abdomen in the first place. “Consider... it... a promise” the victim warns with his strength, amusing the soldier that shakes his head and rolls his eyes, scoffing at the vow as he retreats toward the dozens of Nova Scotians that he’s been ordered to return home with. Short of breath, Jack lets his head rest against the boat’s ground as the cruiser begins hitting the open waters, rocking with the violence of the sea as his eyelids press together, closing as his breaths steady and the nurse continues her services to him. == Rise == With a squint in her eye, Bristol stands in the centre of her superior’s office with both hands coupled at her lap, the man whose words have left her in this reactionary state proceeding to inquire over it. “Is there an issue, Ms. Saville?” Gamble wonders aloud, watching the woman’s demeanour continue to drag like a wounded dog’s broken leg, “I don’t believe I was vague about what I’ve asked of you.”
“It’s not an issue, sir. It’s just a concern” Bristol responds honestly, watching the man’s hands couple atop each other as he remains sitting upright in his seat, the palm of his non-dominant hand laying flat against the desktop. “The floor is open for you to speak your mind” Gamble proceeds, looking at the actual hardwood flooring that the woman’s feet soon walk along, carrying her toward one of the empty seats opposite the national sovereign’s workspace. “As crucial as maintaining the Newfoundland plant is, wouldn’t sending half of our troops there just be cracking this island open like an egg for them?” Bristol questions aloud, watching her superior’s unchanged expression continue being carried toward her. “We don’t have much of an alternative, Ms. Saville. Self-sufficiency is the only leverage we have at ensuring our continued liberation” Gamble responds, seeing a visible disagreement take shape in the face of his subordinate. “Is there any part of your mind that considers the mention of Newfoundland to be a red-herring of sorts? A concern that they want us to worry about?” the promoted secretary questions back, watching the superior nod with assurance. “I have indeed. Even if they want us to look at Newfoundland with more concern, we should be looking at it with just that” Gamble responds, letting his hands slide away from the table’s surface as he presses his back against the desk chair’s support. “At this rate, without production from the Newfoundland plant, we can kiss seventy percent of our current energy intake goodbye” the national sovereign furthers as he shakes his head, “other than ship the refined oil across the Atlantic in multiple, smaller ships as opposed to one large freighter, we can’t afford to worry ourselves with Nova Scotia’s empty threats.” “Are they empty threats, though?” Bristol proceeds to challenge, lowering her chin as she leans forward in her seat, “I’m sure they would’ve used them against us if they had them, but we still can’t afford to rule out the idea that Charlotte stashed something away in case of an emergency.” “Ms. Saville, I’m not sure you’re understanding this situation properly... We can’t afford to rule out anything with Nova Scotia” Gamble explains, his calm tone failing to fall. “If we send troops to Newfoundland, it leaves Prince Edward vulnerable to an attack. However, we still have our territory in the St. Lawrence and elsewhere along the coast” the sovereign explains, “if we lose Newfoundland, then nothing lives. If I had to choose where to increase defence, it would be and should be Newfoundland.” Placing her lips together, Bristol lets her eyes fall as the room goes quiet, her reservation allowing the man comfort in knowing that his point has been understood. “Now please go inform our generals of their impending departure to Newfoundland” Gamble repeats, extending a hand toward the door that the woman proceeds to politely leave through, the man’s eyes watching her figure disappear along the corner before his feet press against the ground and turn his seat toward the windows behind him, affording the national sovereign a glimpse at the harbour he knows has never been more threatened. = Rise is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 3 onwards, including the first two seasons of Rise: Remastered = “They’re going as fast as they can, Em” Jack remarks, standing on a catwalk with his hands pressing against the railing, looking out at a factory’s floor space covered in heavy machinery and labourers. “I’m sorry that the production isn’t what you wanted, but this isn’t exactly the gilded age” the man continues to explain, “we have to weed out the weak metal you’ve given us from the stuff that we can actually work with, and that takes time on its own.” “That’s why I’m not coming to you with an ultimatum, I’m coming to you asking that you think outside the box... Or just do something that can get this process moving faster” Emilio responds, standing between the overseeing labourer and Isaac whilst Lauren stands on the opposite side of her husband from him. “We craft armour, we don’t solve complex mathematics, bud. If I thought outside the box, I wouldn’t have spent my twenties working in a warehouse” Jack concedes, furrowing his brows at a loss for solution. “I thought Jade wasn’t planning on putting people on the ground in the first place. I don’t understand why the production needs to hit a target at all if we’re not planning on a ground attack” Lauren adds in. “Because we live in a place that is ironically more in New Brunswick than it’s in Nova Scotia” Isaac responds on the former chancellor’s behalf, “other than our stronghold on the refinery, most of Nova Scotia is territory beyond our control or our reach. It’s a weak point.” “I thought Jade’s plan was to wait for them to spread their forces thin and send them packing to Newfoundland?” Jack questions back, finding a lack of logic within the concern, “they wouldn’t have enough manpower to launch a simultaneous invasion of the mainland. Let’s be real with ourselves.” “Would you rather find out for yourself? We’ll put you at the border without this armour instead of the troops we’re trying to get the armour to” Isaac retorts, drawing the question aloud as he fails to receive an answer. “Listen, even after everything between Nova Scotia and Prince Edward gets settled out, your armour will still serve a purpose” Emilio explains, trying to de-escalate the conversation before it breaks out into anything uncivil. “When the dead need to be taken care of, people wearing your armour will handle the job. When fights break out for whatever the public’s unhappy about, people wearing your armour will de-escalate the situation” Emilio comments, watching his friend’s head nod with an unamused expression. “Yeah, yeah, Em. We get it” Jack concludes, watching a reassuring smile take shape upon his well-travelled survivor as the replaced chancellor’s hand pats him on the shoulder. “I’m going to go use the bathroom and then leave you guys to it, alright?” Emilio remarks, following the guiding finger of the business owner’s hand at it directs him toward the restroom. Walking off herself, Lauren ventures away in favour of other business, leaving only her husband and the chancellor’s security standing by, looking out at the sea of labourers below as they stand silently within each other’s company. Not feeling the need to speak, Jack remains patient in his inspection of those below him, watching their hands carefully take toward their work and lock small rings of metal around each other in the name of a greater purpose. Spectating all the same, Isaac finds himself at the mercy of momentarily glancing back at the man who’d excused himself just seconds prior, this gesture being noticed by the calm man responsible for bringing the crew beyond his feet into the fold. “Emilio was your leader before you got here, right?” Jade’s security detail inquires, watching the man beside him quietly nod before parting his lips to ask further, “why? What made him the person you went to?” Smirking, Jack shakes his head with puckered lips as he continues to survey the scene beneath him, unsure he has a worthy answer. “He wasn’t... We all met in New York and stayed together after the compound was destroyed. We didn’t follow Em’s orders, we followed a guy named John’s” the skilled worker confesses, continuing to refuse the chancellor’s security the privilege of his sight, “then John died and we didn’t have anyone to turn to. Emilio kept us on course, and we sort of naturally drifted our allegiance to him.” “But again... why?” Isaac queries, not taking the man’s lack of attention personally as he stares at the side of his face, “what did Emilio do that no one else did?” Shrugging, Jack fails to come up with a valid enough reason as he continues staring out at the floor below. “I’m not sure. If John’s wife had kept herself together better, we probably would’ve followed her instead” the man answers, pulling away from the railing before turning for the direction his wife journeyed toward, “Emilio made some calls and we just decided to follow them.” “I’ll ask again... why?” Isaac inquires, pulling away from the bannister just as the business owner had, prompting the man to stop his unannounced departure and hang his head as he stands in the middle of the platform. Slightly perturbed at being kept from continuing about his day, Jack turns back and lets out a sigh as he looks toward the Nova Scotian protectorate, shaking his head at a loss for words. “Because we trust him, man. If he makes a call, we know he believes in it. If we don’t like what he decides, we know he still had us in mind when he made it” the man answers with the shake of his head, “I’m not sure what you want to hear. We know who he is and how he thinks. We trusted him, so we followed him.” Disappointed, Isaac lets his eyes fall to the ground whilst Jack’s uncertain posture carries him around once more, allowing him to depart without speaking another word and carry on with his day. | “It doesn’t matter what she does as long as it doesn’t reach us” Nessie responds with a scowl, snapping the cap off a bottle of beer before handing it to her brother, the features on her face defined through the glow of the campfire roaring in front of her beneath spring’s night sky. For a few seconds, the area goes quiet, prompting Clint to look forward with a squint in his eyes, amused at the persistent hush as opposed to the alternative he’s come to expect. “Nes just invited you to give us your doom and gloom talk, and we get nothing?” the man wonders aloud, looking toward the humoured expression that sits upon the face of their group’s newest addition. “I’ve been giving you the doom and gloom talk for as long as I’ve known you” Harvey rebuttals, only for his eyes to take toward the interjecting voice of a woman off toward his right. “Which has been about a month and a half” Alicia quips, prompting the man to grin as his eyes fall, the injuries that he sports still present, but visibly healing as his pleasant demeanour makes clear. “My point is that I’ve already told you what’s going to happen. Prepare for it, don’t prepare for it, do whatever you want” Harvey concludes, gingerly lifting his beer toward his lips whilst the free hand he chooses not to move remains resting on the side of his wheelchair. Biting his bottom lip, Clint looks at the flames that roar between himself and the man who’d been a lawyer before society collapsed whilst gradually shaking his head more vehemently. “I don’t know if it’s just that I’m interested or if I’m just annoyed that you’re not doing what I expected...” Nessie’s brother remarks, re-earning the group’s focus as he leans back in his fold out chair, “...I want to hear why you’re so confident that Gamble will send people over here.” With a grin, Harvey looks at the ground before lifting his shoulders slowly, his body still sore from the events of his escape from the island and wearing it in ways that only he can feel. “Because that’s always been how Gamble operates. If he can’t have Prince Edward, you won’t get to have it either” the one time confidant of the new national sovereign confesses, “and if he has enough resources to have a say in it... he’ll make sure you don’t get to have Nova Scotia either.” “He’s gone through all of this trouble to get separation from Charlotte and this place, so scorching the earth doesn’t seem to fit his modus operandi” Nessie retorts, only to see the squint that she receives from the man and fall quiet. “He did all of this fighting because he genuinely wanted to be the Charlotte of his own little society. He was playing the long game, and he was doing so out of perseverance” Harvey counteragues, “if you take his little camp away, he’ll try to leave hell in his path out of pettiness.” “For what it’s worth, I agree with Harvey. Jade’s going about this plan wrong” Alicia quips, sipping from a soda-filled water bottle as she rests against her husband as they sit atop a knocked-over tree log. “You don’t hit one thing after another if you can hit him in quick succession. For one, you don’t give him time to regroup...” the only member of the group capable of calling herself a mother comments, “...if for nothing else, you immobilise him and Prince Edward all in one hit.” “The problem is that she can’t hit him in quick succession. Emilio says they’re still not finding any submarines worth salvaging south of the border” Franklin responds, speaking to his wife with a voice capable of reaching those they share the fire with. “Without those subs, Jade’s got a handful of boats that she’ll need to be careful with if we’re going to hit Newfoundland. Then there are helicopters, but it’s not like we have an abundance of those either” he concludes, “we can hit them hard, but that doesn’t mean we can take them out at once.” “Even if they found something in DC, we’re still months away from getting those subs ready for a fight” Katie tacks on, looking at the fire as she assumes control of the conversation. “We’re pussy-footing around Prince Edward just like they are with us. Neither of us wants to fire the first shot, and it’s just giving all of us time to get our things in order... Both us and Gamble” the young woman proceeds. “Neither of us have that much longer to do that, though. Jade knows their reserves are tapping out in the next handful of hours, so she’ll be keen on striking while they’re down” Harvey explains, watching the man across from him double down on the thought he’d already brought himself to. “Gamble will expect it, so whatever plan that Jade’s got cooking is going to do what she hopes that it will” Clint remarks, watching the former lawyer point in his direction confidently, assuring the man that they’re thinking the same thing. “That’s why I’m pretty sure she’s going to strike Newfoundland first” Alicia responds, again earning the focus of those that sit before her, their eyes turning to the side where she sits. “Gamble will expect her to hit the refinery first while communication is mostly severed. I’m sure he’s spared some fuel to power the most necessary of things” the mother concludes, “Newfoundland will expect her, she’ll fail to capitalise on their weakness, and we’ll have to hope the people she sends can get the job done.” “But they won’t be able to. Gamble’s guys know that building better than anyone here would” Harvey responds, looking at the fire with eyes of defeat as he lifts the rim of his beer up. With a squint, however, Katie thinks quietly to herself for a few seconds before looking back toward the man at her side, yet to utter a word before his eyes fall upon hers, taking a second before looking into her face with a sudden realisation. “Except for us” the girl soon murmurs, watching Harvey’s body language shift as he leans back in his seat, inspecting the woman’s unspoken proposition quietly whilst the rest of their group watches. | “There should be thirty three hours of fuel left. After that, the vast majority of the island should go into darkness for a minimum of a week and a half” Isaac carries on, intending to carry on with his debriefing before his attention is stolen by the polite knocking at the office’s door. Turning back in his chair, Emilio acts just the same as the man who’d suddenly fell silent does, Courtney’s eyes taking instead to the chancellor, who gives her a nod of approval before she approaches the entrance. “What are the two of you doing here?” Isaac soon inquires, the first to present his displeasure in the duo’s arrival, and doing so rather quickly. “This is a meeting for the eyes of the four of us, and the eyes of the four of us only” Jade warns, quickly following up on her security detail’s comment with a less hostile presentation, “can this wait for a moment?” “Not really” Katie answers, continuing to stand in the doorway as she awaits permission to step forward. Pressing her lips together with disappointment, Jade begrudgingly nods toward the young woman whilst leaning back, unsure of the visit’s nature, but not wanting to waste much time on it. “I don’t wanna waste your time here, so I’ll just keep this simple. Harvey and I think you should send us to Newfoundland” Katie confesses, looking at the chancellor for a moment whilst the room fails to answer her at first. Sharing their individual reservations, the company at Jade’s command remain quiet and hesitate to speak, Isaac’s eyes taking toward his superior whilst the private civilians on either side of the room from him remain kept to themselves. “Why would I do that?” Jade inquires with a squint, genuinely curious at the reasoning behind such a request that, to her, seems nothing less than odd. “Because you’re only going to realistically have one shot at taking over the refinery. It’ll be heavily protected and difficult to invade if you don’t know the layout” Katie replies, answering honestly whilst those that surround her remain as quiet as they had been initially, “Harvey and I have been there and we’re willing to make sure your soldiers can get where they need to go.” “You and Harvey are also incredibly wounded” Jade replies, not wasting a beat in offering the woman a rebuttal, “I’m surprised the guy can even eat solid foods with the way he was stretchered into this place.” Squinting, Emilio shakes his head whilst staring at the floor, waiting for the younger member of his group to finish offering a retort before speaking his mind. “Harvey’s body can handle the travel, he just chooses to keep to the chair so he can get around faster and not expend himself” Katie doubles down, yet to address her own injury before the leader of her group turns back. “Why are you even bringing this up now?” Emilio wonders aloud, genuinely curious to hear a reason he’s yet to come to himself. “Because I know when Prince Edward is supposed to lose electricity, and I know there’s going to be no better time to attack Newfoundland then right now” Katie answers, firm in her stance as she again looks toward Nova Scotia’s chancellor, “even if you don’t let Harvey go, I’ll be fine. I want to be on one of the boats when you send them out.” “We’re not sending boats out” Emilio responds, only to hear his name grunted through the chancellor’s voice, his eyes travelling back to the woman behind the desk. “Keep your fucking lips shut, damnit” Jade groans, staring at her predecessor with wide eyes for a few seconds, eventually letting them rest to a more natural state as she looks back toward the younger woman. “Listen, Katie. I appreciate your offer, but we will not need your services at this time. Especially with the extent of your injuries” Jade politely concludes, surprising the woman that proceeds to watch the chancellor’s hand extend toward the way she’d entered. Taken aback for a moment, Katie stares at her national superior for a few seconds before hearing a less hostile tone taken toward her from off to the side. “It’s best if you just don’t ask any questions and leave, alright?” Courtney inquires, lifting her eyebrows to the woman with a polite nod as their faces take toward each other’s, leaving the uninvited fifth member of the conversation with the advice to just head off as she’d entered. Doing so, Katie carries her confused expression through the door and journeys back the way she’d come, glancing back at the chancellor’s office every few steps without certainty over what to make of Emilio’s verbal slip. | Staring out at the waterfront with a lack of emotion in his face, Gamble stands with his arms hanging at either side, the white, button down shirt that he wears clean of the dirt and gravel mixture that he stands upon and hears a pair of footsteps travelling across. “I assume that you’ve heard the good news?” the national sovereign wonders aloud, continuing to stare out at the waters before his eyes whilst they allow the moonlight overhead to bounce upon them. “I assume that you’re referring to the successful launch?” Bristol inquires, approaching the man with her hands tucked behind her back, coupled together at her lower back as she steps up to the empty spot just off to the man’s right. “No...” Gamble replies, surprising the woman that immediately looks toward the side of his face, the eyes that he wields being sent to the waves as if they were weapons and the ocean was his target, “...I’m talking about the silence.” Curious, Bristol continues to stare at her superior before conceding to the expectation that he’ll explain himself in due time, remaining silent as she allows her eyes to drift toward the waterfront just the same. “The last two months, aside from some threats and obvious oversight on our part, have been far too quiet for wartime” Gamble comments, allowing another hush to come over the air for the seconds that follow his clarification, not uttering a word as his eyes drift toward the woman beside him. “In my eyes, it is the ears that are supposed to feel the greatest impact of war” the national sovereign confesses, locking eyes with the woman for a few seconds as he speaks, her silence continuing to afford him the floor. “If gunshots ring out, you may not be able to see or feel them... But you hear them. If a bomb goes off, even in the distance, you can count on hearing it” Gamble explains, letting his eyes drift back to the waterfront, “war is many things, but one thing that it should never be is... quiet.” Continuing to stare at the man, Bristol soon allows her eyes to follow the trajectory of his own, taking to the waterfront as her mind latches onto the line of speech like a virus to a host. “You make it sound like silence is a weapon” she explains, looking back at the man just as his eyes trace back toward hers, a renewed life and joyous smile carried in his expression as it is returned to her. “Exactly...” Gamble whispers, still holding the straight face of jubilation in her direction before setting it upon the water once more, following the object drifting atop its surface with his eyes. “When war is quiet, your ears will adjust to the silence. They’ll become more antiquated with the hush and that might be the most dangerous thing...” the sovereign confesses, swaying his head with a gentle shake, “...because when the bombs start going off again... they sound so much louder.” Allowing the man’s remark to go off without a reply, Bristol chooses to leave the levity of his comment retain just as much weight as it had been spoken with, sharing the quiet company of the national sovereign as a massive ship floats across the water hundreds of metres away, its exterior lights purposefully unlit, though its figure is present beneath the clear skies. “We’ve been backed into a corner. Nova Scotia expects us to play defence instead of striking first” Gamble concludes, watching the boat travel by slowly with a grin on his face as it begins lowering. “They’re expecting to hit us when our grid goes down, and that’s why we’ve been saving up just enough fuel to keep us going an extra few days” the sovereign doubles down, “and in the time that they’ve been quiet... so have we.” Her face having turned to a look of confidence and composure in the leadership of the man that stands beside her, Bristol allows Prince Edward’s shot-caller to continue speaking, taking in everything that he says with the utmost belief. “However, Nova Scotia has been quiet because they’ve been waiting...” Gamble quips with a grin, lifting his chin toward the air with pleasure in the declaration that he makes, “...we’ve been quiet because we were preparing.” Behind the monstrous vessel, a fleet of smaller boats- no bigger than the ones stolen from their Charlottetown docks- follow in its path, offering reassurance as the distance between themselves and the mainland draws nearer. Pressing the palms of his hands against his hips, Gamble takes in a heavy breath and lets it sit within his lungs, releasing it only when satisfied as his shoulders descend, released of their tension as the pieces to his real life game of chess take their rightful places. “They don’t anticipate us making the first move, and in the aftermath, they should be too preoccupied with the mess that’s made to kick us while we’re down” the sovereign proclaims, smiling as he speaks into the darkness as his plan takes shape, “let’s see how keen Nova Scotia’s ear has become to the sound of war.” == Rise == “Thank you for your time and your service, sir” Jade remarks, smiling at the man as he climbs out of his seat with a nod, tears streaming down his freshly-cleaned face as he walks for the door. Holding a stare toward the ground as he stands in the corner of the room, Emilio lets the information settle with him as he waits for the newly-returned pilot-turned-captain to depart, only to look up when the man suddenly turns back without warning.
“What will become of their bodies?” the distraught survivor wonders aloud, stopping in the doorway with eyes upon the seated woman, watched on by her predecessor. Surprised by the question, Jade looks at the surface of her desk for a moment as she ponders an answer, struggling to find one worthy of the sacrifice made. “If you’re looking for an honest answer, it’s that I’m not sure we’ll be able to bring them back home” the new leader of Nova Scotia confesses, “I’m sorry.” Hanging his head, the saddened pilot hangs his head and nods with the faintest smile he can muster, slipping through the door and politely closing it on his way out. Letting a silent breath roll through her lips, Jade pulls back in her seat whilst staring at the top of her right hand as it rests at her side. “I guess I’ll take that as my cue to leave” Emilio comments, stepping forward en route to the door as his successor looks back to him. “Why would it be?” Jade questions aloud, prompting the man to cease his casual stroll only a few steps ahead of where it had begun, his confused squint finding its way back to the Cumberland leader-turned-voice of the new world. “Because it’s the middle of the afternoon and you’ve got plenty of stuff on your plate” Emilio responds, pointing at the door before watching the chancellor’s eyes take toward it’s direction. “Are you trying to show me where the door is? Because I know that” Jade responds, lifting both hands off the leather armrests as she holds their palms toward the ceiling, “What I don’t know is why my busy schedule would be your cue to leave.” For a moment, the man stands in silence with eyes on the chancellor, the rest of his body soon turning toward her just the same. “Because you’re the chancellor, we’re at war, and this is your job now” Emilio explains in quick succession, lifting a finger on his left hand for each point that he offers, “I know nothing more that you haven’t already been told.” “I don’t want you here because of what you know, I want you here because of who you are” Jade responds, only deepening the confused look that she receives. “Listen, I’m sure most of the people here are people that I can trust, but I just don’t trust them yet” the new chancellor admits, climbing out of her seat to join the man who’d braved the transition period between chancellors, “In due time, I’m sure I will. But until then, I want you around wherever I go.” “You seem to forget that I have friends to look after and a life to live in all of that” Emilio quickly rebuttals, noticing a lack of concern in the face that stares back at him. “Alicia and Franklin have each other, Jack and Lauren have each other, the siblings have each other, and that girl I hear you’ve reunited with has a new, mostly-damaged boyfriend looking after her” Jade proceeds, waving a hand toward the door as she steps beyond the man, “as for Salem, I’m not really sure she wants anyone looking after her.” “She doesn’t, that’s why she left a while ago” Emilio replies, watching the chancellor suddenly turn back with a perplexed visage, hearing the comment without fully convincing herself that it means what it’s presented as. “She decided that if she couldn’t be happy in Nova Scotia, she’d never be happy unless it was beyond these walls” the one-time politician clarifies, “she took off with her rifle and she’s not coming back.” Without a chance in her expression for a few seconds, Jade allows the man’s conclusion to bring her face toward the window that sits behind her desk. “Well that’s a shame. I always thought very highly of her” the new chancellor confesses with a deflated sigh, shaking her head with disappointment before returning her focus to the gentleman at hand, “anyway, your friends are accounted for. As for that life I heard you lived, I doubt there’s much business to tend to on that island anymore.” “The bartering system doesn’t die just because I can’t cross a bridge anymore. Besides, Courtney and I usually did our bartering here anyway” Emilio corrects, watching the woman approach him with the continued sway of her face. “It doesn’t matter. Your friends are safe and I’d make sure that neither you or Courtney ever had to barter again as long as we keep this place afloat” Jade concludes, unwavering in her stance, “besides, if you really want to look after your friends... There’s no better place for you to keep them safe then right here helping make those calls.” “Jade, this isn’t the job-” Emilio attempts to again refuse, only for his renewed attempt to fall on deaf ears at the weight of an interjection, one that the new chancellor refuses the chance to proceed. “I don’t care what you do or don’t want, Emilio. If I’m going to lead this community, I’m going to do it my way. I’ve never done it any other way, and I’m not going to start now” Jade explains, “you kept Cumberland together even when I couldn’t, and for that... your help is invaluable to me.” “If it were invaluable, then I could ask for anything that I wanted and get it with the snap of your fingers” Emilio jokes with a grin, lowering his chin before watching the chancellor’s persistent expression of seriousness accommodate the lifting of her hand as she snaps her fingers. “Consider me your fairy godmother from now on if you please. Name your price whenever you want and you’ve got it” Jade responds, offering him the verbal vow of a blank cheque. “I always had Archie, and Ollie, and Isaac... and before you make your jokes... Isaac... my new bodyguard... does not count” Jade quips with the lift of her finger, amusing the reluctant, tan-skinned survivor enough for his eyes to bow and lips to part for a chuckle. “I always had them by my side. I was only ever as good of a leader as the people I surrounded myself with” the chosen successor confesses, “they’re in Cumberland and I need a new set of McKee’s. I’m choosing you.” “If you’re choosing me, then you’re choosing the rest of my friends too” Emilio responds, lifting his eyebrows alongside the rest of his head as he lays in the terms that he assumes would be a deal breaker. Surprised instead, Jade lifts her hand into the air once more and snaps her fingers. “...Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo, asshole” the chancellor concludes to the bewilderment of her well-distinguished acquaintance, their eyes connecting once more as she doubles down, “are we on the same page now?” With parted lips, Emilio watches the woman’s hand fall back to her side before resetting his eyes upon his superior’s own, the gape of his mouth sealing up like torn pieces of plastic being heated back together. As his shoulders fall, the nearly-free, short-termed chancellor leans his head toward one shoulder, visibly displeased with the answer he wishes not to give, but knowing well enough that it’s what’s meant to be uttered. = Rise is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 3 onwards, including the first two seasons of Rise: Remastered = “Do I appear like a man who wants to be informed of how this happened?” Gamble questions whilst leaning back in the seat of his desk, both hands pressing the tips of their fingers against each other as the large windows behind the national sovereign shed light upon his figure. “I only want to know who’s responsible, why this was possible, and what we’re going to do to fix this monumental error” the man calmly remarks, looking toward people with equal reservation to each other. For a few seconds, the man is left without an answer to his inquiry whilst looking at those who stand before him, eyes drifting from one side of the room to the other. “Don’t all of you speak up at once now” Gamble sarcastically remarks, upholding his composure before the only woman in the room steps forward to answer. “Mr. Gamble, you’re responsible” Bristol answers, watching the man’s eyes take toward him a blink once without adjusting their role in the blank expression that he carries. “You laid out the conditions to the ship’s staff on how the routine was meant to occupy through the night” the woman doubles down, speaking freely without fear over what’s to come of her comments. “When they brought up the need for security, you informed them that those resources were better spent on our electrical infrastructure while we were trying to become energy-independent” Bristol concludes, “you believed there wasn’t a need to fear foreign invaders launching an attack on our ships once the bridge’s connection to Prince Edward was severed on account of the fact that they’d be cut off from mainland Nova Scotia.” With the slightest parting of his lips, Gamble soon lets his eyes fall just slightly whilst the rest of his posture remains as stiffened and statue-esque as it had been. “Not my finest moment at the helm, I suppose” the national sovereign confesses, looking at the curves in the staining of his desk before raising his eyes to the fleet of men that stand before him, his lips finally parting more thoroughly before his thoughts are interrupted by the sound of ringing. “Will you excuse me, gentlemen and Ms. Saville?” Gamble queries, watching the men file out of the room in a line as he picks up the phone, watching Bristol assume the rearmost position of the group as he waits to address the caller until the room is cleared of all but his presence. “This is the office of Andrew Gamble” the man greets, listening to the sound of a feminine throat clear as it prepares to speak. “This is Jade McKee calling on behalf of Nova Scotia. For all matters regarding Nova Scotia, I will be the woman who you will be in contact with from this point forward” the new chancellor remarks, prompting her new adversary to lower his head with a curious gaze. “Has Emilio Vasquez fallen upon ill health in the hours since accusing me of your former leader’s untimely demise?” Gamble questions back, unable to see the grin that comes over his face. “I’m currently sitting behind a desk that’s situated in a room with the name tag of ‘chancellor’ on the wall just beyond the door, Mr. Gamble” Jade responds with amusement, “for clarification, I’m insinuating that the desk I sit at no longer belongs to anyone else.” With an expressive widening of his eyes for only a brief moment, Gamble feigns impression before returning to his unbothered demeanour, the steady, emotionless tone of his voice remaining perfectly preserved. “If this is your way of informing me that yet another leadership change has taken shape in Nova Scotia, I’d prefer that you’d call me when one happens that actually lasts” Gamble rebuttals sarcastically, this time earning a chuckle from the woman on the opposite end of the call from him. “I assure you, Mr. Gamble... I’m not going anywhere” Jade retorts, amusing those that share the office with her as she leans against her desk. “Now, from where I sit, it seems like the fourteen ships that sit at my coastline aren’t going anywhere either” Jade responds, hearing no reaction from the man whose visibly displeased, yet oddly-unmoved expression is kept from her face by the safety of their distance. “If this is a call simply to gloat, I have much more important matters to attend to, Ms. McKee” Gamble proceeds to comment, only for the woman’s quick reply to prevent him from ending the call. “Mr. Gamble, this call has nothing to do with updating you of my status or gloating. It has everything to do with giving you one last chance to read the room” Jade responds, earning the national sovereign’s interest out of curiosity alone and nothing else. “We know exactly what game you’re playing and you know exactly what game we’re playing. So, at this rate, why not get all the cards out on the table?” the chancellor challenges, nodding to herself as she looks at the company she’s surrounded by, “let’s see who’s really got the better hand.” With the faintest flaring of his nostrils and the deep press that his lips take to one another, Gamble remains quiet for a moment before pressing the tops of his two primary fingers to the base of his chin. “I’m all ears, Ms. McKee” he concedes, leaning back into his seat whilst the phone presses gently against his left ear, his non-dominant arm laying firmly upon the side of his seat. “We may not have the arsenal of ships that you did, but make no mistake about it... We have ships” Jade explains, a conclusion that the national sovereign had already come to well before. “We now both have ships, but only we have air support. Aside from a handful of private helicopters, the only side here that can control the airspace is ours” the chancellor carries on, “in addition to this, we’ve also come into a third method of transportation that you cannot account for.” Sitting closest to the front of the chancellor’s desk, Emilio glances to the side with a bewildered expression, finding himself surprised to discover a similar look upon Isaac’s face. Glancing back, the rest of his group quietly occupying the room hold just the same amount of puzzlement as what’s carried in Courtney’s visage, just as lost as everyone other than the woman on the phone. Unsure of what’s meant by that, Gamble takes a moment to sit within silence whilst trying to figure out whether or not he can come up with the answer himself. “Enlighten me, Ms. McKee. I’m stumped” the national sovereign replies, only to find an obviously-feigned tone of seduction being given back to him through the phone. “Oh, Mr. Gamble. I don’t feel like you’re playing seriously” Jade responds in a tone that, whilst intending to mock a sexually-frustrated quip, comes off more antagonistic than anything else, “I’ve shown you mine, and now it’s your turn.” Rolling his eyes, Gamble looks toward the corner of his room for a second before aggravatedly stepping away from his chair, snatching a hold of the desktop phone before approaching the harbour-viewing window in the back of his office. “We hold the sympathies of a public that will now view you as the uncooperative side that won’t let them go home. We hold your residents within our borders that can very easily go from being refugees to hostages” Gamble comments, bobbing his head as his voice becomes slightly more combative, “now go ahead and enlighten me on this third method of transportation.” Pouting her lip, Jade pulls back in her seat and looks at the ground, bobbing her head from side to side as she puts on the voice of a little girl, refusing to take the rival leader seriously. “I don’t wanna” she mocks, drawing the ire of the man that begins to lose his patience with the opposing political faction. “Ms. McKee, if you’re not going to take this seriously, then this conversation has no-” Gamble begins to reply, his tone growing just slightly more irritated in a way that is immediately picked up on. “I wouldn’t expect to continue being able to ship refined oil overseas from your new little plant in Newfoundland for much longer, Mr. Gamble. That’s all I’ll say on the matter for this time being” Jade interrupts, following through on at least giving the national sovereign a glimpse at her hand as advertised. His aggravated expression turning to one of surprise, Gamble’s face soon quickly shifts from the expression of bewilderment to one of distinctive uncertainty. “I’ll take that silence to mean what I think it means, Mr. Gamble. And let me make it clear, that third method of transportation is one that you have nothing to defend against” Jade carries on, returning to her confrontational tone as she sets the narrative straight for herself, “if you don’t like that I don’t take this seriously, I’d start getting used to it. This is who you’re dealing with now, and I’m not keen on changing.” Being met with silence, the chancellor waits for a reply that never comes, and after a few seconds, it becomes clear that she’s not going to receive one. Instead, Gamble continues to look at the surface of the water as it reflects the sunlight above, losing himself in thought as he refuses to offer any of what’s said internally to leave his lips. “I don’t take this conversation seriously because I don’t take you seriously, Mr. Gamble” Jade proclaims, continuing to bite at the hand that has made itself a target through its lack of something to feed on. “This entire war that you’re waging is a joke because you’ve already lost. The second we got our hands on a ship was the second that your only leverage became mute” the chancellor furthers, “you stand no chance of winning, so I don’t take the outcome of that happening seriously.” “What are you calling about, Ms. McKee?” Gamble proceeds to ask the second her sentence reaches its conclusion, wasting no time in addressing her just as the chancellor wastes no time in answering him. “I’m calling to give you one more chance to surrender. I’ll let you live... albeit, in prison... And I’ll shoulder the burden of getting a new bridge built now that the old one is at the bottom of the Northumberland Strait” Jade concludes, shaking her head as she smiles. “That’s not going to happen, Ms. McKee. If for no other reason than the fact that I will not allow this fight to end unless it ends alongside my life” Gamble remarks, only to find the muffled laugh of his adversary reacting to him. “In that case, you’re no better than Charlotte in looking after yourself more than the best interest of your people” Jade counters, looking into the air as she speaks. “This war doesn’t end with anything other than a complete Nova Scotian victory, an absolution of the Prince Edward state, and an admittedly difficult reunification to the status quo” the Nova Scotian leader promises, only for an unexpected smile to come across the face of her inter-national contemporary. “You’re bluffing” Gamble replies, almost convincing himself of so in the name of furthering the hopes that his vision for the land that hosts his feet as it does for many others, “you may know of the refinery, but you stand no chance at stopping us from becoming independent of your handouts.” “You say that as if there’s any hope for your nation once the lights go out and don’t come back on” Jade responds, returning her voice to the declarative, yet composed tone that she’d spoken through at the start. “Once that happens, your little party over there will reach the point of desperation. You know you won't win, and at that point, you won’t be able to count on even the people that are closest to you for support” the lone female McKee concludes, “even mutual destruction will fail to be a dependable option.” “If this call is simply to give me a white flag to wave, I’m afraid that you’ve called for no reason, Ms. McKee” Gamble proceeds, shaking his head as the Nova Scotian chancellor bows her own, realising that no easy victory will be had. “The people of Prince Edward will either live free of Nova Scotia’s strong arm, or the people of Prince Edward will not live at all” the national sovereign concludes, “that applies for them, that applies for my allies, and that applies for me.” Parting her lips, Jade attempts to rebuttal before hearing the dial tone of the line’s other end, finding the call to have concluded just as their hopes of avoiding any further conflict have. Licking her lips without uttering a word, the chancellor hangs up the phone before immediately finding the man she’d asked to be present before any other to ask the question sitting on everyone else’s mind. “Please tell me that you know something the rest of us don’t” Emilio politely wonders aloud, letting out a heavy breath as Jack and Lauren stand together in the corner of the room, Alicia, Franklin and the siblings- one of whom with the aid of crutches- remaining just the same directly opposite them. Standing beside Harvey as he sits at the helm of a wheelchair, Katie looks forward just as Courtney does to her left, Isaac seated upon the chair beside the present group’s de facto leader just in front of her. “I might” Jade responds, climbing out of her chair with both hands pressing against the desk’s surface, her eyes trailing throughout the silent room, “I just need someone to answer a question honestly.” | “I heard you knocking the first time, what do you!?” Courtney proclaims, running up to the door before angrily yanking it inward, revealing the man with persistent knuckles that stands on the opposite end of the divider. With a smile on his face, Emilio humorously goes from tapping at the door with his fist to extending each finger as far away from each other as they can reach, his waving hand doing so with an excessive speed purposely intended to be taken lightly. “Hi, I’m Emilio” the man remarks as he lifts his upper lip above his teeth, speaking with the vocal reflection of a common nerd as he does his best as presenting a gum-heavy smile. “I can see that, why did you feel the need to knock eighty five hundred times?” Courtney questions back, doing so in a normal tone despite her delivery being inspired through the amusement she takes in his presentation. “I just felt like it, I guess” the woman’s visitor responds, allowing himself entry into her mostly-spotless flat as she steps off to the side, finding surprise at how sterile the place appears. “When I found out they were renovating your apartment, I became curious to see where they decided to put you up in” Emilio comments, gradually strolling further into the temporary quarters with his hands tucked into each pocket, “I guess the protocol is the same as the olden days.” “When you need someone out of their home, lure them in with the promise of an expenses-paid hotel room. That always does the trick” Courtney retorts, closing the door as she follows the man further in, “might as well not even bother fixing what isn’t broken.” Shrugging, the man with a brown leather jacket over his long sleeved, grey shirt proceeds to spin back toward the tenant, a smile paid back to her before bobbing his head to her. “How’ve you been holding up?” he wonders aloud, watching the woman’s head lower slightly as she holds each hand out at her side, unsure of whether or not she has a reply worthy of being offered. “I’m still here, aren’t I?” Courtney wonders back, watching the man’s head tilt to the side and lean forward, a brow rising over his left eye. “I think we both know you could go somewhere else if you wanted to” Emilio replies, watching the woman’s face scrunch with confusion as he lets out a sigh, knowing that her secretive demeanour isn’t easy to fall as he takes a seat in the corner of the room. “I know that most of what you told me at Juliet’s diner was true, but I’m sure there was plenty that wasn’t” the man remarks as he takes a seat, “the stuff you were telling me about where you were when the world went to hell?” “You know where I was... I told you. I was in Vancouver when-” Courtney responds, only to find herself cut off by the man that cares less to dive into insinuations. “Courtney, I’m a gay man. If there’s anyone that can understand both men and women like the back of their hands, it’s us homosexual folk” Emilio jokes, watching the woman’s mouth close as her attempt to speak falls with the rest of her initial statement, “you’re a beautiful woman that doesn’t have a boyfriend, stand on your own like you’ve got no one to stand for you, and seem to settle here less because it’s Nova Scotia and more because it’s not somewhere else.” Squinting, Courtney parts her lips and shakes her head, attempting to get something off the tip of her tongue with seemingly very little success. Looking away, the woman instead lets out a laugh before calming her erratic and dismissively visage into one of more acceptance whilst Emilio watches, his arms resting on either side of the comfortable seat as he keeps his lone, lifted eyebrow high whilst waiting for a reply. “I thought you were a politician... Not a cop” the woman mutters beneath her breath whilst facing the ground, her eyes lifting as high as she needs to look toward him, however. “Either way, I’m not running away from my past like it seems you are” Emilio responds, watching the woman’s eyes again fall, this time with among the guiltiest, sorrow-filled looks he’s seen her take on. Immediately feeling like he’d overstepped a boundary, Emilio watches the woman continue to hold her thoughts to herself whilst looking for a reply, not wanting to leave her feeling like he’d forced her into sharing. “Listen, I don’t know what happened and if you don’t want me to know, that’s fine” the man concludes, patting the ends of the armrest as he climbs to his feet, “but, with how close you are to Charlotte, I’m sure that she knows a little bit more than what I do.” Watching her visitor step forward, Courtney feels the weight of his hand place itself upon her shoulder, doing so gently and reassuringly as his voice lowers to a more respectfully personable tone. “I’m sure losing her is something that worries you, and I don’t want you feeling like you might lose the one bit of actual secrecy you may have with her” Emilio explains, apologetic in his delivery, “I don’t mean to come here as aggressively as I may have led on. I just want you to know that you can be as open with me as you can be with anyone.” Distressed slightly, Courtney lets her chest weigh lighter as she clears her throat, nodding in appreciation to the man that proceeds to let his hand slip away from her, his feet carrying it alongside his person as he advances for the door. Wearing a half-smile, Emilio lets his eyes drift to the entrance before he suddenly stops in place and performs a double take, looking at the mirror in the centre of the halfway between the tenant and the exit. “What? What’s wrong?” Courtney inquires, noticing the odd shift in the man’s posture as he lays eyes on his reflection, feeling the strange sensation that his eyes are playing tricks on him. Shaking his head in refusal, Emilio fails to find the words as he inspects the figure that he sees back at him, letting out a deep sigh as he, too, clears his throat. “It’s nothing. I just...” the man confesses, squinting intensely at the likeness opposite him, “...it’s nothing.” == Rise == Season 8 Premiere.
“Down the hall, chancellor” a man in a white coat remarks, pointing to the end of a hallway that serves as the answer to the question asked by Nova Scotia’s new leader, whose feet sprint through the corridors of medical equipment and waiting patients in search of his point for showing up. Allowed to travel freely without the bother of professionals attempting to stop him from progressing any further through the building, Emilio begins drawing closer to the end of his travels with each new corner passed. “Of course he’s coming, can’t you hear his footsteps?” an unmoved Jack questions back, standing against the wall before the patient room’s entrance with his arms crossed, an eyebrow raised to the woman that asks for his clarification. Satisfied enough with the reply, Lauren takes her attention back to those upon the beds laid out before them whilst their chancellor arrives, struggling to catch his breath as he ventures beyond the room’s open door. Taken back by the sight that befalls him, Emilio remains paused for a moment between the hallway and the cramped quarters never intended to house four patients at a time, let alone a plethora of their loved ones. With as much of a grin he can muster through the surprise, the group’s de facto leader looks at Clint and Nessie before allowing his sights to venture past an unfamiliar man beside them and an incredibly well-remembered woman off to his side. “Well I’ll be damned” Emilio mutters aloud, pulling his head back as the sore survivor looks past her friends with a smile. “I was told I wouldn’t even believe it if I saw you in person, and I guess that person was right” the chancellor remarks, watching Katie wince as she climbs off the bed and fights through her ailments, her left arm in a cast and sling as the man approaches. “That would be me, I’m the person that was right” Jack jokingly gloats, lifting a hand into the air as the chancellor scoffs at him, continuing to approach before gently resting his palm against the reunited woman’s stabilised arm. “What can I touch without fearing that I’ll break you into tiny pieces?” Emilio inquires, watching the younger woman smile before she steps into his opposite arm, allowing Nova Scotia’s new, temporary leader to lightly embrace his former apocalyptic journeywoman. “Give her more credit than that. If you want to break her into pieces, you’ll have to clear some time in your schedule” Harvey mocks in a soft tone, his reflection clearly carried through exhaustion and pain as he remains the only patient yet to sit up. “Oh shit, you’re awake!” Katie remarks in a gasp before stepping out of the chancellor’s arms, approaching the bedside of her Prince Edward escapee. “Who’s this?” Emilio wonders aloud, not knowing how else to phrase the question as he points toward the victim, choosing to be blunt as opposed to sparing concern for feelings. “I’m Har-” the man begins to respond, trying to sit upright before the gentlest push from Katie’s hands easily return him to the comfortless hospital mattress. “Lay your ass back down, you broken shell of a man” the woman comments, phrasing the demand in the form of a joke to ease the emphasis she’s laid it down with. “His name is Harvey. He’s with Katie” Nessie responds, sitting atop a hospital bed with a pair of crutches laying beside her, always within an arm’s reach as her left leg bears the weight of a heavy boot. “I don’t know if that means they’re dating or if he’s genuinely here because he was just with Katie when...” Emilio responds, suddenly letting his eyelids fall into a squint as he pauses, “...wait, what the hell actually happened out there? Why are you all broken?” Keeping his amusement to himself, Jack lets his smile fall toward the ground just as the rest of his face does, his head shaking in spite of its new, downward direction. “Boat crash” Clint answers, the only survivor of the four to not bear the scars of war through the necessity of an alternative device, “we played chicken with a Prince Edward patrol boat and won at a cost.” “Nessie caught a broken foot and Katie fractured her arm, but her friend took the worst of the damage” Lauren doubles down, sitting on a stool off to Clint’s side before turning back, “broken back, fractured forearm, broken clavicle, hairline fracture in his shin and a concussion on top of all of that.” “That last one is like the really annoying cherry on top of an injury sundae” Harvey comments through a deep and prolonged groan as he tries to shift his body upward, wanting to position himself into the closest thing to a seated position that he can muster. “You’re alive and plenty of people in your position wouldn’t be able to say the same. Consider yourself lucky” Emilio replies, turning back toward the way he’d come before spinning back toward the group, “where’s Alicia and Franklin?” “They’re on the way. Give it a little bit of time” Jack responds, watching the chancellor turn back to face him before glancing at the watch on his wrist. “I have to meet Jade at the border in two hours” Emilio murmurs, frowning as he looks toward the patient that stands at the side of her fellow defector. “If you’ve got to go, we don’t want to keep you. We can catch up later on... It’s not like we’re going anywhere” Clint remarks, passively mocking his sister by shrugging toward her, “and that applies to Nessie double.” Grimacing at her brother out of humour, Nessie lifts her crutch from the floor and watches her sibling’s palms immediately present themselves in a show of surrender. “Are you guys going to be able to get somewhere to lie low if I head out?” Emilio inquires, looking toward the patient’s before the voice of the man behind him answers the question instead. “They’ll all be staying at our place for a little bit. We’ll bring them home whenever the doctors let us” Jack assures, continuing to keep his voice low and tone composed as he nods to the chancellor, “they’ll be looked after.” Flashing the man a smile, Emilio pats Jack on the shoulder before walking toward the door and taking a final glance in Katie’s direction, their eyes locking as the chancellor offers his well wishes. “I’m glad to have you back” he remarks, stepping through the exit as the young traveller presents a smile upon her face, watching the man’s figure wander off around the corner. = Rise is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 3 onwards, including the first two seasons of Rise: Remastered = Staring blankly at the opposite end of the room with his hands folded atop the desk, Gamble remains speechless, his lips continuing to press together defiantly in lieu of uttering a word. Giving the man that speaks to him anything other than the time of day, the national sovereign of his separatist island carries his reserved demeanour in a way that leaves those that share the room with him an uncertainty over whether or not the leader is taking in any of the information being offered to him. “Our enforcement officers are beginning to crack down on the public disruption to great effect. The streets are being cleared with rapid ease” a young gentleman explains as he stands before the sovereign with hands coupled together in his lap. Still seemingly in refusal to offer any physical shift in his posture, Gamble leaves the informant out in the cold for a reaction, not moving even the slightest inch of his muscles in response to what is being spoken. “There is still the concern that some of Emilio Vasquez’s comments have influenced some within our borders, so it’ll likely be best if-” the youthful survivor comments, only to fall silent once Gamble’s calm and respectful voice infiltrates the line of speech that he calls his own. “What does the public think?” the nation’s sovereign wonders aloud, his blank stare held firmly as the young man pauses, taking the inquiry into consideration for a few moments before replying. “The public can be given clarifications that will ease their-” the early-20’s informant begins to reply, only to again find his course of response falling upon ears purposefully deaf to his claims. “I asked a question that I expect an answer to. I don’t want an answer to a question that I did not ask, so answer the one that I did...” Gamble interjects, slowly turning his head to the left like a reptile before his eyes fall upon the subject of his interest , “...what does the public think?” Pressing his lips into a frown, the young man tasked with disclosing the nation’s status to the man who needs it the most allows his eyes to turn toward Bristol, who stands in the opposite corner of the room, only for the snapping fingers of the sovereign to bring his sights right back. “They’re not overly fond of the idea that they’ll be cut off from their power supply” the young man explains, attempting to continue speaking before falling silent at the presentation of Gamble’s hand. “What is your name?” the sovereign queries, letting the palm of his paw fall back toward the coupled hands upon his desk whilst maintaining eye contact so sincere and unwavering that it presents itself entirely off-putting. “It’s Will, sir” the informant replies, watching Prince Edward’s leader turn the back of his hand toward the table and pull the top halves of his fingers toward his own direction, allowing the subordinate a green light to continue. “We have people that need electricity to survive, and they’re among the most vocal of those who are troubled” Will explains, finding enough encouragement in the wealth of information he has to present to the leader to gradually ease into the conversation with more confidence in his speech. “There’s an incredibly large community that also has genuine fear that what Emilio Vasquez said about you was true” the young man carries on, “they don’t necessarily like her much, but virtually no one thinks well of Mrs. Walters’ assassination.” “Neither does anyone here. She was an incredibly stubborn woman, and that was irritating to the tenth degree at times. But it’s what made her strong” Gamble responds with the same composure he’d carried through the conversation’s duration, “it’s what made her a valued adversary and her presence will be missed.” “If I may speak out of my role for a moment, sir. It might be best if you let the public know that instead of just me” Will responds, watching the sovereign go quiet for a moment at this line of speech whilst it continues, “because a good number of people in our borders do think that you had something to do with it.” “What else does the public think, Will?” Gamble proceeds to wonder aloud, obviously uninterested in continuing to entertain the specific concern any further than he already has. “For a start, many of them are scared of you and aren’t convinced by the declaration your office made just before or just after Mrs. Walters’ assassination” Will answers truthfully, hands continuing to stand stiffly at either side, “they like what you propose legislatively, but they are mostly unfavourable to you.” “Are you unfavourable to me, Will?” the national sovereign proceeds to ask, keeping his stare held forward with the same lack of intensity but surplus of exuding conviction as the line of speech carries forward. “I don’t know what I think of you other than the fact that my responsibility is to carry out your commands and that is what I will do, sir” Will answers with a surprisingly equal amount of confidence, earning the slight squint of the leadership’s eyes with his remark. “In that case, I’d like for you to tell me how you would weather this storm throughout our growing pains, Will” Gamble responds, standing out from his seat as both hands free themselves from their coupling, allowing the sovereign to round the table and approach the younger subordinate gradually. “Amongst making good on your promises and ensuring the public that you had nothing to do with Mrs. Walters’ killing, I would make sure the lights don’t go out” Will replies as the leader continues to round the workspace. “The lights will go out, but they will not stay out” Gamble corrects, seeing the dismissive shake of the informant’s head to the side. “If the lights will go out, I would just advise you to survive however long it takes you to get them back on while the public is in the uproar that they will be in” Will replies, taking one step back to free the space ahead of himself for the sovereign to occupy as it seems like he intends to do. “Once you weather the storm, I’d just make sure you get the lights on as soon as possible” the informant concludes, “once the lights go off, any wrong move can make you the sacrificial lamb that the public offers up to get back in the good graces of Nova Scotia as a peaceful surrender.” | As the hydraulics blow out compressed air, a bus comes to a halt at the very start of a long stretch of airport runway, Emilio stands by with sunglasses shielding his face from the sunlight of an early spring. Pulling apart at the behest of the driver’s hand pulling at a handle off to his side, the doors that separate the bus’ inhabitant from the crisp air of an unusually cold April morning grant the single soul that had travelled north upon it the chance to touch down upon Canadian soil once more. “You and your friends just make an impact everywhere you go, don’t you?” Jade questions aloud with two lifted eyebrows and a half-grin, watching the acting chancellor’s face hang whilst Isaac stands by, looking around the area in search of any concerns. “We sure keep finding ways to acknowledge the irony of that, yes” Emilio confesses, watching the woman appreciatively pat another man on the shoulder as he takes her luggage into hands. “Alright, let’s not waste any time then. Give me the rundown... what do I need to know?” Jade questions aloud, approaching the man and wrapping an arm around him for a hug as she cuts to the chase. “I’m the acting chancellor until you’ve gotten situated here well enough to take over... Hopefully that’s soon” Emilio responds, letting go of the embrace as he begins walking with his inevitable successor. “We’ve publicly accused Gamble and his regime for the assassination and he’s neither approved or denied that claim yet. But he has tried to play hero and suggest negotiating to open a line of sea-based transportation between our two sides” the chancellor furthers, approaching an armoured vehicle with the woman at his side, “Prince Edward expected to lose electricity for two weeks after their reserves deplete and the hope is that we can overtake their Newfoundland-based oil refinery before they can become self-sufficient again.” “So there’s now real interest in cooperating with them to co-exist on your part?” Jade proposes, pointing out the disingenuous discovery she comes to without receiving much of an answer aside from the click of the current chancellor’s tongue. “They’re the only side that has proposed a negotiation to get people back to their rightful homes. We have no reason to believe there’s any genuine interest in the people’s well-being” Emilio concludes to an audience already of that opinion. “Of course they’re not, Emilio. They’re trying to play favour to the public” Jade responds, assuring him of the assumption that he’d taken, “with that said, it can be a huge advantage to us if we need it.” Squinting, Nova Scotia’s first true successor since its foundation looks toward the new arrival without uttering a word. “Even though I don’t know everything about where the current state of our sides are, I’m sure that letting the public think we’re willing to be cooperative would work in our favour” the impending chancellor voluntarily explains, “we know what their critical points are, and they’re geographically not in a pleasant position being on that island. If we can open a line of transportation, it would allow us to make a move on one of the ships and collect some of that power back.” “I’m sorry, you’d want to take over one of their passenger boats and risk looking like the bad guy that kept the people who didn’t get the chance to go back home from doing so?” Emilio queries, watching his successor pucker her lips and shake her head whilst looking into the distance, only to stare back at him before asking him the first question on her mind. “I don’t need to win elections here, do I?” Jade questions back before smiling, allowing the silence that she’s met with to answer her question. | Hearing crickets through the night for the first time since the seasons began bringing about their warmer weather, a man with dirt covering his face and dry blood running down his nose crouches behind a concrete barrier separating himself from an open plot of asphalt others already sneak along. Parting his lips into the shape of a circle, the beaten man pulls in a few, short breaths whilst tightly wrapping his hands around the handle to a wrench, readying himself to leap out from cover and advance. Keeping his footsteps as subdued as he can manage to make them, the filth-covered man storms beyond the waterfront platform and dashes toward the side of a ramp, whose narrow sides are covered by a simple, white railing. Getting himself into position, the man quietly rounds the edge of the bannister and begins strolling upward, joining those he embarks upon this adventure alongside in boarding the vessels they don’t appear to be called to board. Immediately finding himself entering cramped confines, the dirty-faced soldier peers around corners and into rooms that have their cabin doors left wide open, allowing for circulation that otherwise would evade the cabins. Though most of the confines that he looks into appear unoccupied, the quarters of apparent staff that his mates come across with signs of life within them meet the same fate, witnessing a bludgeoning of men in uniform that fall victim to an attack whilst amidst their slumber. Painting the interior of these vessels red with the blood of the enemy, the professionals continue to advance upon their cruisers with as much haste as they can muster amidst their stealthful journeys. Pulling his hand back at the sound of nearing shoes tapping along the ground, the filth-covered face of the wrench-wielding man sours as he throws his arms forward, lamping an unassuming ship worker in the back of the head with such force that brain matter begins dripping down the back of his skull. Prepared to do the same with anyone he happens across, the desperate and beaten soldier finally makes it to the captain’s quarters and takes a peek inside, finding only a lone occupant at the controls with his head pressing against the back of his seat. Swiftfully and gingerly, the tortured intruder begins advancing upon his prey until the distant sound of a gunshot flutters through the night beyond the ship’s parameters. Awoken by the sound of gunfire that he hadn’t been anticipating, the captain parts his eyelids and takes a second to pause, trying to remain quiet in an effort of deciphering whether or not what he’d heard had been the legitimate sounds of war. His silence instead affording him the chance to capture a sound he hadn’t been anticipating, the control-occupying sailor throws himself forward in his seat and glances back without enough time to react, the swinging wrench that collides with his face shattering bone and knocking him unconscious immediately. Hurriedly darting back the way that he’d come, the tormented invader rushes to the watertight door and slams it shut, locking it into place before hurrying to the controls as a boat a few dozen metres ahead of him begins moving forward. Looking at the board of lights and the variety of different icons at his disposal, the soldier quietly runs through the memorised list of steps he’d taken down before taking a seat as he does as previously illustrated to him. Propelling the ship forward, the captain begins sailing onward, taking the modest wheel into his control and setting the vessel out for sharper waters. As he passes by the cruiser that had occupied one space ahead of the ship that had beaten him to disembarking, the sailor watches one of his similarly-dressed soldiers round the corner on the ship’s exterior with a gun in hand, falling into the line of sight that an enemy takes advantage of, firing two rounds into the chest of the escaping captain’s fellow intruder before turning his attention to the cruiser that advances beyond. Ducking as he keeps the modest vessel on course, the captain shields himself from the gunshots that begin to pelt the windows, driving through their tough, yet non-bulletproof surfaces and missing the dodging target. In all directions, gunshots begin to ring out at boats that are both parked and on their way beyond the steady seas they’d yet to traverse. Whilst most find success, other infiltrators fall victim to the overwhelming numbers that the bloody-faced captain had managed to avoid, being shot dead or captured in the act of valiance whilst their contemporaries successfully outsmart the warring nation on behalf of their homeland. Beneath the cover of night, the post-apocalyptic war finds its first rebellion and covert-operation take place at the same time as war boats are snatched in the dead of spring and taken toward their original homes. | “I’m assuming that we wouldn’t be able to land enough people on Newfoundland at once in order to properly outnumber the people that Gamble’s stationed up there?” Jade questions aloud, looking toward the man she will soon succeed as he presses his lips together and shakes his head in refusal. “We’d have to take them in small boats across the Gulf of St. Lawrence from northern Quebec” Emilio concludes, “the only alternative are helicopters, but we can’t afford to send those birds with how big the risk is that we don’t get them back.” “And we don’t have ships anywhere?” Jade questions back once more, calmly placing the palms of both hands upon the conference table that she occupies. “Well we don’t have ships anywhere, but Prince Edward Island has some stationed in the old docks at Charlottetown” Courtney responds, occupying the direct opposite end of the table from her Cumberland acquaintance, “aside from that, the only ships we might be able to go and grab ourselves are rusting away in ports throughout the U.S.” “If we’ve pretty much overtaken the American naval force down across Chesapeake Bay then we’d have to go further south or further out west” Jade responds, only to again find reluctance in the face of the woman across from her. “The problems with those is that we don’t control those territories” Courtney retorts, shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders, “this place may have had a leg up on anywhere else when the world ended, but it’s been five years. There might be a colony out west we’d have to contend with in order to gather up those ships.” “And it might not even be worth it after all this time” Isaac adds on, “we put a lot into maintaining our ships. We have no idea how badly the ones out west in San Francisco or somewhere out there will be with how long they’ve gone without service.” “I thought you came from out west, Courtney? Wouldn’t you know whether or not there was a settlement down there?” Jade questions back, looking for insight that the paramotorist just can’t provide. “For a start, I was only ever out there for the first few months. I was heading into rural Canada- the prairie provinces- about halfway through that winter” the woman in question replies, “I knew some people that were down there for the first few weeks, but I’ve got no idea what it looked like after the first... I don’t know, maybe the first month?” Frowning, Jade lets her head begin tilting to the side as the door behind her starts opening, drifting inward at the hand that quietly pushes upon it. “I think I have some news that you all would want to hear” Irene proclaims calmly, though the excitement within her tone is unmistakable. Catching the room by surprise, those who’d stationed themselves around the conference table look toward each other without saying a word, only moving when Emilio becomes the first to climb out from his chair. Whilst the sun begins rising over Nova Scotia, an armoured vehicle rips up the road that mostly lays empty and untravelled, carrying its inhabitants toward the section that becomes far more populated in comparison. Only climbing down from their vehicle once its wheels skid to a halt on a mixture of sand and grass, the four strategists hurry to the coastline that a fleet of armoured-dressed and rifle-wielding soldiers surround with weapons drawn, watching many of their contemporaries take risks that float out at sea. “How many did you say there are? I don’t think I can count them properly at this angle” Jade questions back, looking toward the woman who’d informed her of this change in circumstance to begin the trip in the first place. “The reports I got mostly said fourteen” Irene answers, standing at the back of the group as they come to a safe distance, only for the acting chancellor to continue taking his chances. Following the lead of her defiant predecessor-in-waiting, Jade squeezes between officers at Emilio’s behest as she draws closer to the Port Elgin waterfront, where a fleet of boats calmly bob upon the water with makeshift ramps holding them to solid ground. “No one knows who set this in motion, but a few of the Prince Edward Island crew have been taken into custody” Irene proclaims as she follows Courtney and Isaac forward, “the hostages that Gamble took... the ones that Charlotte sent after him before he blew up the bridge... led a siege on the Charlottetown port last night.” Impressed and beyond the ability to speak, Emilio stares in wonderment at the apparent success of the undeclared mission that their hometown heroes had chosen to carry out. “Well, Jade... It looks like you’ve got fourteen more boats to work with” the acting chancellor remarks, looking to his side as the woman continues staring out. “This sure as hell changes a lot of things. We’ve got leverage now for one...” Jade assures, nodding as she takes the shifting circumstance to heart, “...let’s hope this change in the tides keeps itself going.” == Rise == |
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