“Are upholding your principles worth
it if it means sacrificing everything you value?”- Persian philosopher Farhad Khamid, “The Quest For Truth” (1689)
November 29,
2015,
23:05 local
time,
Carter Downey’s
House,
Raith, Birea
The doorbell rang and Carter Downey sprang from his
couch. He was a grizzly, pasty figure who was muscular but portly, with a full,
greying beard and long bushy hair that was a testament to the trials and
tribulations his lonely 51 years had given him. He caved in to the exhortations
of the Birean matchmakers and his own friends’ glowing reviews and decided to
buy a wife for himself. He picked a woman who, in his view looked like a
supermodel, and, according to the matchmaker, was a woman who liked pasty Irish
guys like himself (as Carter’s grandparents were from Limerick) and loved to
cook. The matchmaker also assured him that the woman in question was 45, though
he thought that was a stretch given her looks.
When Carter answered the door he was underwhelmed by
what he saw.
“So they ring the doorbell and just leave me this
giant box,” he said after shaking his head, his voice a gruff baritone, “and
nobody here to help me bring it in. £50,000 and they can’t be bothered to give
me some service.” After walking up to the box, left at the end of his driveway,
he then noticed a keypad that wrapped itself around one side of the box, and
remembered the vendor telling him he needed to punch in a code before the box
opened. He pulled out his phone and entered the code, revealing the contents
inside.
“Well, well,” he said with an ear to ear grin. “They
were right. She’s a spitting image of Claudia Schiffer.” The woman was tall and
slender but shapely, with wavy blonde hair that laid down nicely on her ivory
skin. She was chained, spread-eagle, inside the box fully nude, and was still
under the effects of the sedative she was given when Carter opened the box. He
grinned again before grabbing the keys to the chains- tucked behind the keypad-
and freed her of her bonds before picking her up and carefully bringing her
inside, leaving the box outside as per the vendor’s instructions.
After locking the door, Carter then carried the woman
in his arms up the stairs and into his bedroom, still grinning with
anticipation with every step that he took.
Maybe Angus was
right, thought Carter to himself after laying the woman
down on the bed spread eagle and chaining her wrists and ankles to the bedposts
and affixing a ball gag to her mouth. This
matchmaking thing really can pay off.
I never thought I could get exactly
what I wanted, but…here I am!
It was here that the woman started to wake up from her
sedative, causing her to jump once she realized what was going on. She darted
her head back and forth, trying to desperately to free herself from her bonds,
but Carter adjusted them well enough that it would be a fruitless task. The
woman, once she realized this, looked Carter straight in the eyes and was
gripped with fear, her body noticeably trembling as she wondered what Carter
was going to do.
“Shhh, relax,” said Carter slowly but calmly as he
undid he belt and took off his clothes. “I’m going to be loving you for a very
long time, so I’m going to treat you very well.” He then got on top of her and
started to nibble at her jaw, before setting himself right on top of her and
holding her body right next to his as he enjoyed nibbling away at her neck.
As he continued enjoying her body with his hands and
his mouth, he couldn’t help but again think of his remarkable luck. She really is everything I could ask for,
he thought as he revelled in the woman. Her
features are perfect to play with,
and I could go all night like this…oh man, none of my other girlfriends could
have compared to this, none of them!
Eventually he was sufficiently aroused, allowing him
to have sex with her. This was the moment he truly cherished, and did everything
he could to enjoy the moment for as long as possible. When he was finished, he
dismounted with glee, a full, satisfied smile emanating from his now relieved
demeanour. He went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, again smiling with
his heart contended.
Man, I can’t
wait to be able to get her out of those chains, he thought to
himself. He remembered the instructions from the matchmaker, telling him the
first night at least required her to be chained to the bed because the slave
would not have been “acquainted” with her new surroundings, although the
instructions suggested a minimum of a week, with another month of “looser”
chains so that she could regain the full mobility of her limbs. It also told
him various mind control techniques he would have to use in order for his slave
to gain his trust and feel compelled that she could not leave his house, which
would then allow Carter to condition her to eventually become his wife.
It would be a lot of work, but for Carter, he felt it
was worth it. The slave he acquired was just so perfect for him.
Interrupting his thoughts was the loud wailing of his
slave, who, now overcome with the emotions over what happened to her, was
crying uncontrollably. He remembered the instructions and grabbed his belt, since
the matchmaker told him that the slave crying within the first night was
inevitable, and only violence would stop it. He stomped his way to the room,
wrapping his belt into a whip, and was ready to strike when emotions got the
better of him.
He saw a scar that ran up her arm underneath her
forearm, which reminded Carter of his own suicide attempt out of loneliness.
Carter, he thought to himself, what have
you done? Look at her…she tried to kill herself. Just like you. Only you’ve got
a life of your own to turn to…what kind of life does she have? You KNOW that no
matter what, the life she will lead with you will never be her own- is your own
happiness worth knowing the other person will never truly be happy?
He put down the belt and stood there, sighing heavily
and hanging his head in shame. As she continued to cry he began to get tears
himself, so he walked out of the room to stop himself from losing his
composure. Knowing he didn’t have any clothes for her, he did the next best
thing and grabbed his overcoat, which would at least give her limbs some
mobility, and brought it upstairs for her.
“We need to talk,” he said, his tone getting urgent.
“Promise me you’re not going to run away.” The woman shook her head for “yes”,
which made Carter smile and move to undo her bonds. She then grabbed the
overcoat and, since her limbs were still limber because of her lengthy sedation
and restraint, Carter helped her down the stairs before seating her in a chair.
He then went to the kitchen and fixed her a hot cup of tea which he brought out
for her.
“Tea helps me relax,” Carter said. “I don’t know much
about you but it’s the best I can do until I do.” The woman grabbed the teacup
and sipped it casually, grateful that she was no longer restrained.
“Listen,” said Carter, getting sombre. “This ain’t
some mind control trick I’m pulling…just thought I’d throw that out there.” He
let out another heavy sigh before continuing. “You’re probably very messed up
right now and I just made it worse…look, I know there’s no words or actions
that can truly convey how sorry I am, but I’ll at least start by saying it
outright- I’m sorry. I want to do everything I can to help you out and catch
the men who did this to you, but all in due time. Before we start, can I at
least get your name?”
November 28,
2015,
12:00 local
time,
FBII
Headquarters,
Buffalo, Roman
New York
“All right,” said Foederatio Borealis Imperiale
Indagatores (FBII) Senior Agent and Antivirus Task Force (AVTF) Chief Galla
Claudia as she and her guest, criminal informant Danforth Grayson, took their
seats in Claudia’s office. “I had a look at your information about The
Revenant.”
“Oh?” Grayson said, his eyes widening.
“If you look at the pictures.” Claudia paused to put
down the picture of The Bactrian taken by her other criminal informant Max
Collins just over a month prior alongside other known pictures of The Revenant,
“you’ll see that The Revenant is, indeed, the same person.”
Grayson was disappointed, his face not hiding it. “I
kind of already knew that.”
“That’s not what’s interesting.” Claudia then put down
a picture of security footage obtained from Salt Lake City, where rumblings of
The Revenant surfaced just after Utah reversed its water bottle ban. “It’s hard
to tell because the footage is grainy, but you can make out just slightly that
The Revenant that struck Utah has a noticeably darker skin colour than the one
in Illinois. In Illinois, you were dealing with a Bactrian. In Utah, this
person appears South American, and because her skin is so dark, likely
Bolivian.”
“Bolivian, eh?”
“I know...doesn’t narrow it down very much...but, at
least we can say that we’ve shown that this case is now understanding it’s
about catching two people instead of one.”
Grayson nodded his head slowly and pondered the
thought. “Two Revenants...interesting. They’ve never had that before.”
“Which means we need to figure out why they’re doing
that now.”
November 30,
2015,
12:35 local
time,
Carter Downey’s
House,
Raith, Birea
“My name is Angelica Pankewicz,” said Carter’s slave,
her thick Polish accent coming through as she spoke. “I used to live in
Alberta, in Wood Buffalo…I had an abusive husband, and, in 2010 I left him and
moved to a women’s shelter, where I was told I would be taken care of and that
my husband could not find me. Two years I was there, then, one day, I felt a
needle in my arm as I was sleeping. The next thing I knew, I was on a barge,
sailing away to a place I didn’t know, before being holed up like an animal
inside a cage. The place was dark and damp, with the guards walking around to
check on us regularly and keep us in line. We never did go outside, and most of
the time we only slept because of the needles…eventually I lost track of time.
I couldn’t even tell you what year it was right now.”
“It’s 2015, Angelica,” said Carter.
“Oh man…wow.” Angelica’s eyes blinked wildly as she
took a sip of her tea.
“You’re in pretty good physical health though, I gotta
say.”
“Yeah...doctors came in and examined us.” She took a
deep breath before summoning the strength to continue. “They also subjected us
to various exercises and other training programs...we cleaned, cooked,
organized, took care of babies.”
Carter nodded his head, listening intently. “Basically
you learned how to be a housewife.”
Angelica took another deep breath before soldiering
on. “Not just that...every week we were subjected to the ‘house’ of a different
male, and ordered to do everything he wanted, being subjected to various
different punishments if we didn’t follow along. We were even conditioned on
being raped and/or just being beaten for fun...but the worst...” Angelica then
began to cry before Carter clutched her hand and told her she was doing great,
which allowed for a deep breath and Angelica summoning the strength to
continue. “The worst was the mind control...the ‘good’ women, the ones who were
obedient and rarely ever questioned what our trainers asked of us, were given
privileges, like being able to walk outside and actually sleep in beds, while
the rest of the women were holed up in the cages with some suffering terrible
beatings.” Angelica’s voice then cracked as tears again formed in her eyes. “We
learned very quickly that if we were to survive, we had to be good, obedient
housewives...it’s all so degrading.”
Angelica then broke down crying, collapsing her head
into her arms against the table. Carter looked at her, stunned at what he just
heard. He couldn’t believe that Birean society had come to this, where women
were reduced to the mere playthings of their male masters. Sure, Nathanism was
about subservience, but it was also about dignity and respect, and there was
nothing dignified about what Angelica had gone through. “A man leads, not
bosses” was what he always felt, but peer pressure kept him from realizing
this.
“Listen, Angelica,” he said after squeezing her hand.
“I’m going to help you. I want you to be able to go home...lead the life you
deserve to have. I don’t care if it’s not with me...the only thing I care about
is your happiness and I don’t want you to be a slave anymore. I may have been
lonely my whole life but that’s nothing
compared to what you’ve been going through...and if there’s one thing I will not be, are those monsters my ‘friends’
have become.
“I have a family member who’s a Roman citizen...she
can help you get on your feet and start a new life in Roman territory, complete
with a great job. You can fly out tomorrow if you’d like.”
“You’d…you’d do that?” said Angelica, stunned by what
Carter had told her.
“Of course I would,” said Carter without hesitation.
His tone became more urgent as he continued speaking, with tears forming in his
eyes. “If I can save just one woman…one
woman…from those bastards who
think they’re humans, let alone my countryman, then by golly I’ll do whatever
it takes. You have my word.”
“No,” Angelica said, seeing the passion and sincerity
in Carter’s voice. “I want to stay here, at least for a short while. You’re the
closest thing I have to a friend, which I haven’t had in decades and I don’t
want to lose that. I want to help you, like you have helped me. We can work on
this together, save more women.”
“OK,” Carter said with a warm smile and a knowing nod.
“We can do that.”
Later that day, Carter perused his social media
accounts, shaking his head in consternation seeing the “happy” photos of his
friends. He then came across a private investigation firm, Alpha Associates,
who pledged to investigate crimes that the police refused to touch. He reviewed
the page and sent them a message, hoping they could direct him on a path to
take down the ring once and for all.
December 5,
2015,
23:48 local
time,
Abandoned
warehouse,
Ogden Dunes,
Indiana
“Are you sure about this Fitch?” said Behavioural
Analysis Unit member Jason Simeon, recently unretired, to his boss, Aaron
“Fitch” Fitchner.
“We have to be,” said Fitchner curtly, driving the
FBII sports utility vehicle at full speed.
“I get it,” said BAU teammate Claudio Pucci, Fitch’s
unofficial second-in-command, “he needs time to be able to complete his
rituals...but we can’t be sure we haven’t run out of time.”
“I’m with Pooch,” said BAU teammate Emily Proctor. “We’re
cutting it a bit close this time.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Fitchner, “We can’t go back
on what we did…we have to trust our instincts and the profile…and the profile
says that this ritual is extremely complicated…he won’t have enough time to
finish it before we get there.”
“Fitch is right,” said BAU teammate Vincent Chestnut,
the doughy but spritely 18-year-old whose expansive encyclopaedic knowledge was
only rivalled by his expansive waistline. “For the swelling to bend exactly
into the shapes he wants them to bend into, it will take 20 minutes. Multiply
that by 26 victims and 40 bruises each, and we’re talking about 20,800 minutes
of bruising, which is 346 and two thirds hours and 14.4444 days, assuming he
never sleeps.”
“So more realistically, a month,” said Fitch, doing
his best to keep his composure as the rest of his team- most notably Pucci-
rolled their eyes.
Upon arrival at the warehouse, Pucci, Simeon, Proctor
and Fitchner all disembarked from the car, as Chestnut- halfway into his box of
60 doughnuts since starting the car ride an hour ago- stayed behind ostensibly
to monitor their progress through their body cameras and the infrared imaging
of the warehouse. Right behind the BAU was the Special Weapons And Tactics
(SWAT) team’s vehicles, with the SWAT soldiers pouring into the compound as
soon as they arrived.
Fitchner was first inside, his heart pounding as he
quickly moved forward with his head on a swivel staring menacingly into the
sightline of his gun. His breathing began to get heavier as he anticipated the
showdown with the UnSub, whom the BAU had profiled was a middle aged but
determined man with sadistic impulses that was determined to make the FBII’s
standoff with the Branch Davidians in 1993 look like “child’s play”. It was
this fact that Fitchner kept repeating in his head, knowing that this would be
the UnSub’s final play and it meant that the victims ultimately had to be
alive.
When he finally came to the door leading to the
warehouse’s main holding area, he took a deep breath and momentarily closed his
eyes, the finality of his journey having dawned on him. He quickly dismissed
thinking about the gravity of the situation any further and burst open the
door, deciding he was going to give the UnSub the blaze of glory that he
wanted.
Except that, when he got there, all he could see was
the decayed, mutilated bodies of the 26 women, all of whom had been dead anywhere
between several weeks to a few days. Several who were the first to be killed
were decomposed almost beyond recognition- as if the rips and beatings done to
their bodies wouldn’t be enough to delay recognition- while the others, though
still dismembered, weren’t decomposed enough so that their humanity was
completely taken away, though no one body was in one piece.
As soon as he saw the carnage, Fitchner slumped to his
knees, his gun falling down in front of him and banging on the floor, which
caused a bullet to jam. He was overcome with emotion, crying heavily and
audibly, as he tried valiantly to come to terms with what he just saw. The more
he thought, the more he sobbed, causing him to bury his head in his hands and
bang the floor with his fists in frustration, staying there and continuing his
loud crying for quite some time.
Equally dismayed were his teammates, who also had no
words to convey the horrors of what they saw. Pucci took his earpiece and
slammed it with disgust onto the floor, breaking it on the hard concrete.
Proctor could only hold her mouth wide open, shaking her head and putting her
hand on her heart before she too was overcome with tears.
Simeon, though, had no expressions other than wearing
that weary long face of his whenever he was overcome with disbelief, of which
the scene displayed plenty. He took a few deep breaths and pursed his lips
before shaking his head and walking towards Pucci.
“How long have they all been dead for?” he said, still
trying to make sense of the scene.
“Judging how badly the bodies are decayed,” said Pucci,
“We missed this at least by a few days.” Pucci then audibly coughed before
grabbing his belly, all in an attempt to stop the nausea from the stench from
taking over his body.
“Guys,” said Proctor, looking around and taking a walk
down the warehouse floor littered with blood, guts and body parts. “Where are
the SWAT guys? We never told them to leave.”
“What are we going to need them for?” said Pucci with
consternation. “Eaves clearly isn’t going to be here…he’s done his work.”
“Do you know that he’s gone?” said Simeon with
concern.
“He’s not stupid,” said Pucci curtly. “If he left us
this, he’s not going to come back and ‘challenge’ the FBII…he’d be long gone.
He’s probably sipping some tequila in Hermosillo right now, laughing at how
well he ‘fooled’ the FBII.”
“He doesn’t need to get to Hermosillo,” said Simeon
with a mocking chuckle, “Cisco, Utah is only 19 hours away.”
“Semantics!” Pucci said, throwing his hands up in
disgust. “Fact of the matter is, we lost
him.”
“Guys,” said Proctor, exasperated, “arguing now will
do nothing. Yeah, this sucks but if we can figure out where he
is, at least we can find a way to bring him to justice.”
“Don’t bother,” said Simeon, reading an alert on his
phone. “SWAT commander just told me that they picked up Ben Eaves at the
construction site he works at in Gary.”
“Work?” said Proctor, surprised. “I thought we
profiled that he didn’t work…I mean, he couldn’t
work, because he just wouldn’t have the time to well…” Proctor’s voiced trailed
off as she turned the attention back to the bodies, “…do all this.”
“Why didn’t they tell us?” said Pucci, putting his
hands on his hips. “Those jerks!”
“Glory, maybe?” said Proctor.
“Says here our SWAT guys had a bright young mind who
studied the evidence herself and came to a different conclusion than we did,”
said Simeon. “Apparently she’s been paying attention to the case and found
something we didn’t.”
“Did she say what it was?” Proctor asked.
Simeon sighed. “I’ll find out,” he said. “Just
understand that this ride home will be much longer than we’re used to.”
December 5,
2015,
23:58 local
time,
Senor Goat’s
Pub,
Albuquerque,
Desert Republic
Carter surveyed the bar. It struck him how, on a
Saturday night, a place like this could be as barren as the Sonora, but here he
was, alone with his thoughts, reflecting to himself while enjoying his Cuba
Libre and vaguely paying attention to the television that was on just across
from the bar rail.
Not that being alone really bothered him. He dealt
with people all day, and it felt nice that, for a change, he could have a quiet
night to himself with quick bar service instead of having to deal with the
incessant din of ignorant youngsters who never knew the meaning of “subtlety”
or any kind of manners, with the pack of them preventing him from getting more
than a few drinks every hour. Tonight, at least, he could have a few drinks
every few minutes, and with all the stresses passed his way, the stings of his
drinks came with it the cold satisfaction of bliss.
After another Cuba Libre- a drink he enjoyed, although
he always contended he could make them better than anyone else- Carter
nonchalantly gazed at the TV, casually reading the byline as it struck a chord
with him.
“Anna Rattu,” said Carter, “where do I know that
name?” His thoughts were interrupted when the next person took over the news
report.
“I understand that the people are very concerned about
what happened in Illinois,” said Roman Emperor Valerius IV. “Let me say in no
uncertain terms do I condemn this attack, and condemn this attack
wholeheartedly…what happened to the Markses was sheer depravity at its finest
and will not be tolerated. Believe
you me, we will do everything we can
to bring the culprit to justice.”
“Yeah,” said Carter to himself, chortling. “Sure you are…just like you’d have
America back and running in ten years. Look how that has turned out.”
“Well,” said the bartender, Javier Campos. “The
problems in North America are much bigger than he likely thought…I didn’t think
we’d ever get back to where we were under Reagan. That was a period long gone
after the Second Revolution…you can’t rebuild hundreds of trillions in
infrastructure in months or even years. Truth is, we might never get back. I’m just glad there’s someone out there who’s
actually caring.” Campos took a look at his credit card reader right next to
his cash register and smiled with glee, the reader bought via a small business
grant that the Romans under Valerius had made available throughout North
America.
“That’s the thing, Javier,” said Carter, his gruff
voice getting more energetic. “The guy shouldn’t be making promises he can’t
keep…and besides, the Caesar, like the rest of the Romans, like to over-think everything and keep missing the obvious
solutions that stare at them right in the face.”
“That may be true,” said Campos calmly. “However, when
are we going to take to task all the North American politicians who bicker and
argue all day and do nothing except expect a handout from Rome every day? When
are we going to hold them
accountable? People like Reddick…those
are the guys we have to be angry with, not Caesar Valerius, because we’re
actually voting for the Presidency. That’s the problem with this society…we
always blame someone else for our problems, be it Rome, the Jews, the
Hispanics, the Blacks, the Nathanites, the Muslims, the liberals, the
conservatives, the Coffee Conspiracy, The Revenant…and it goes on and on. I
mean, when are we going to start looking in the mirror?”
Carter let out a deep breath and took a sip of his
drink. “You got a point there, partner,” he said. “The good part is…no matter
how bad it’s gotten, at least North America is still trying to cling to some
hope, however faint, that things are
going to get better. It’s not like Europe where everything is in chaos and
ruins and everyone’s out for themselves and fighting for the few scraps their
ruthless dictators decide to give them…I mean, it’s not like North America’s
Elysium, but you’d be hard-pressed to think that Europe isn’t the transplanted
Tartarus.”
Campos sighed, his smile replaced with a noticeable
grimace. “You know,” he said, “there are times where I think we’re almost at
that place here, if we haven’t gotten there already.”
Carter chuckled. “I hear ya.” Carter then pulled out a
card and gave it to Campos. “Listen, I signed up with Alpha and was told that
if I came here you’d be able to help me find this man. Can you find him?”
“Sure. I know exactly who he is.”
December 7,
2015,
09:12 local
time,
FBII
Headquarters,
Buffalo, Roman
New York
“You know why you’re here,” said FBII Director Lucius
Black sternly as Fitchner took his seat after closing the door, “and you know
how this is going to go. So don’t give me excuses Aaron...just give me the
truth and maybe I’ll go easy on you.”
“Lucius,” said Fitchner, sighing heavily and doing a
poor job of hiding his nerves. “I did everything I could...you said it
yourself, sometimes you go through a bad streak...maybe that’s what this was.”
Black shook his head and let out a huff. “Seriously,
Aaron, is that what you’re going to
throw at me? This isn’t just a ‘bad streak’...this is grade school level
incompetence. I’m sympathetic towards mistakes...everyone makes them. However,
I still expect the job to get done, and when it doesn’t, I want answers.”
“Believe me, I’m just as disappoint-”
Black threw his arms up in the air, letting the files
on his desk fly everywhere. “Oh, you’re ‘disappointed’...well that’s great!” Black then got up and
paced around the room, his tone getting louder and harsher as he spoke. “Me? I’m
more than disappointed...I’m upset. I’m
angry. I’m apoplectic. I’m...I’m every kind of synonym for ‘angry’ that’s
in the book! And you know what? You
should be too. ‘Disappointed’.” Black let out another huff. “What kind of an
agent are you?”
“Lucius, I...I...I used, um, the...the wrong word. You
know I’m just-”
Black hurled a book towards the floor and stomped his
way back towards Fitchner. “Oh you’re ‘just as upset as I am’...well I don’t
believe you agent. You just tried to write off the worst massacre in Indiana’s
history as just a mere ‘bump in the road’, assuming that tomorrow is just going
to be ‘hunky dory’ now isn’t it?”
“Well, Lucius, you yourself said that you can’t let
the scope of the incident allow you to forget that an incident is just an
incident.”
“Seriously? This isn’t just ‘an incident’...it’s a
catastrophe.” Black then got into Fitchner’s face, which caused him to recoil.
“26 women were hacked and mutilated! 26!
That’s no ‘drop in the bucket’!” Black stepped back and took a few deep breaths
to regain his composure, his eyes still wide and seething with anger. “Not that
any number would be okay.”
Fitchner continued to sit in stunned silence as Black
regained some of his composure.
“Look, if Jeff was killed and the police couldn’t
solve it, is that just a ‘mistake’? Doesn’t your
own son merit an outrage?”
Fitchner again sat in silence, understanding Black’s
point but refusing to allow the conversation get personal.
“Lucius,” Fitchner said before pausing in an attempt
to corral the words he needed to say. “If I may, we’ve had cases where the
victim count was much higher and you’ve had nothing but praise.”
“That’s because,” said Black after slamming the palms
of his hands on the desk with a loud thud, “the deaths caused were beyond your
control and your methods managed to save more lives and bring the culprit to
justice...in this case, your incompetence allowed Ben Eaves to hack and
mutilate women at will right under
your noses. I don’t care what the
victim count is- that’s inexcusable!”
“We applied our methods the best that we could...we
didn’t have much to go on...just the videos of his attacks and those cryptic
messages. He left no witnesses.”
“Hogwash Aaron! Hog.
Wash. The evidence was right there, in plain sight. The clamp used to rip
Jennifer Robinson apart bit by bit bore the badge of RMC, the construction
company that won the bid to work on the repairs Interstate 65...and you
dismissed it outright, without bothering to share it with the authorities you
were supposed to help..”
“I didn’t think the badge was clear enough...so I made
that choice.”
“Annika Bjorn thought it was clear enough...as soon as
she shared it with the detectives they caught Eaves immediately.”
“How did Bjorn get the tape?”
“She didn’t need to see the tape, moron, she saw it with her own eyes at the warehouse! She texted
Vince about it and Vince blew her off, saying you dismissed that lead. She smartly decided to defy you, because she’s
not a gloryhound like you guys at the BAU are.”
“I resent that.”
“Oh yeah? Well tell me it’s not different. Show me a
case where you guys didn’t take over, shove the local police to the side and
then move in on the suspect with your guns blazing, showing a wanton disregard
for ethics by taking matters into your own hands if you have to. Just show me
one case where that doesn’t happen...just one...I know you can’t do it. You
wanted to do it here with Eaves so you could again be the hero and it wound up
biting you in the a**.”
Fitchner sat in silence and stared blankly in front of
him, letting the gravity of Black’s words sink in.
“I’m putting you and your team under review,” said
Black sternly. “You will be required to write reports on every aspect of your
cases, and I will follow up on them just to see if you really are crossing your
t’s and dotting your i’s. Furthermore, the OPR will drop in and inspect your
progress, and you will be required to file periodic reports.”
Fitchner quivered as he talked, tears forming in his eyes.
“The Office...of Professional...Responsibility?”
“Yeah...that’s what ‘OPR’ stands for. Thought you knew
that.”
“How...how long will it be...for?”
“As long as it takes...which means...you better start
closing some cases or else you’ll be looking for something else to do.”
December 7,
2015,
09:59 local
time,
Pip’s
Coffeehouse,
Rockford,
Illinois
“Welcome,” said Kwame Arko, heartily speaking
extending his arms out and waving them about as if he was inviting the whole
crowd to come to him. “Welcome, welcome everyone! Today...today is a new day!
Today is a special day! Because today is the day that I am announcing that Pip’s
has officially come to North America!”
As thunderous applause roared from the gathered
audience- several dozen people, almost all paid actors with the rest being
carefully screened members of the press- Arko beamed his pearly white smile
wide, basking in the glow of adulation before he continued.
“Yes, yes,” he said as the crowd allowed him to speak.
“Today is a bright day, not just for the people of Rockford or Illinois, but
North America in general. Because today marks the first of 1,000 stores that
will be opening across North America before the end of February, with more
planned in the future!” He raised his voice, his baritone getting more emphatic
as he continued, loudly gesturing as he spoke, “What this means is that I am
bringing you jobs, thousands of jobs, that will revitalize the economy and make
North America the proud continent that it should be.” The crowd again cheered
loudly for quite some time as Arko continued basking in his glow. “So be proud
North America! Be happy for what you’ve gained, because...finally, after all
these years, the Phoenix will rise again!”
The crowd let out its loudest cheers of the day as
Arko again smiled widely and gestured wildly as he took in the applause, before
going into the crowd to receive the appreciative high fives and hugs that he
was due. A pretty blonde woman- another actor- even greeted Arko by planting
her mouth on his and making out passionately with him, causing Arko to joke
that “someone must be really happy
they got a job!” which elisted loud belly laughs from the crowd.
After his show of affection, Arko stepped away from
the crowd to make a phone call.
“Yes Kwame,” said English Foreign Affairs Minister
Jack Kent at the other end of the line. “I saw the feed...wonderful performance
you put on today.”
“Why thank you, Jack,” said Arko with a smile. “How’d
it go with Reddick?”
“The man’s a stubborn fool...he’s alienated the Romans
but refuses to acknowledge our superiority...I do not know why he seems to
think he can ‘go it alone’ in this world.”
Arko chuckled. “Yeah, me neither.”
“Don’t worry...we’re going to break him. As I said,
his constituent republics are getting restless and it’s only a matter of time
before everyone abandons ship. He will be isolated...alone, with no one to turn
to...and by the time they can formally do it in 2019, each state will have
voted their way out of the Union and into our waiting arms.”
Arko smiled. “That’s good, that’s good.”
“In the meantime, I’m going state to state, securing
ballot measures on our behalf. Iowa has promised us support, and so has
Ontario. Momentum is clearly on our side.”
“Good work Jack! Anyway, keep me posted...I need as
many places as I can to open these coffeeshops...we need to strike soon before
the damage to Jimmy Cochrane’s reputation goes away.”
“Don’t worry, I’m on it.”
December 7,
2015,
08:11 local
time,
FBII
Headquarters,
Buffalo, Roman
New York
“Well, no, Agent Rollo,” said Claudia on her phone in
her office, “a body shouldn’t do that- that’s not the way the appendage works.”
She then paused to hear the reply before offering a response herself. “Thank
you...no, no, don’t feel bad...sometimes the answer escapes us because we
overthink things, so a fresh set of eyes are necessary...no problem, always
glad to help.” She then bid him adieu before hanging up the phone. The success
of the AVTF meant many agents came to Claudia and her team to ask for advice,
advice that Claudia was only so happy to give. However, it did come at a cost,
and it meant that her own cases piled up, but despite her own needs- and her
own suspicions that her colleagues were lazy- she felt that if she didn’t help
out, her fellow agents would not be too inclined to help her out.
A knock on her door stopped her from moving on to her
paperwork.
“Agent Fitchner,” said Claudia, smiling warmly at
Fitchner before shaking his hand. “How are you today?”
“Not good,” Fitchner said as he took his seat after
closing the door. “The rent-a-goons are after me.”
Claudia grimaced. “Because of the Ogden Dunes
Massacre?”
“Yeah...Lucius thought I should have closed it
sooner...but...I didn’t...so the OPR is going to review my team.”
“Fitch, you and the BAU have been here for over a
decade and a half...you’ve closed numerous cases...I know you’ll be fine.”
“Yes, but I’ve never failed this badly before. Usually
we wind up saving the victims...we have a policy of trying to catch them ‘in
the act’ because our methods don’t always stand up in court...I mean, how many
juries will accept that we deduced the UnSub because he smacked his victims
with an uppercut to the jaw because he was remembering what his own father did
to his mother? So we’re stuck for evidence...which is why we needed to take our
chances.”
“...and your chance ran out this time.”
“Yeah...it did. I should have trusted the chain of
command...picked him up at his work area and then secured the search
warrants...I mean, we found everything at the factory.”
Claudia let out a heavy sigh, understanding Fitchner’s
concern. “Fitch...maybe this is an opportunity to re-evaluate what you’ve been
doing and change for the better...you yourself admitted that maybe it’s time to
change tactics...so maybe it is time
to change tactics.”
Fitchner let out a deep breath before he responded.
“That’s why I’m here,” he said. “I’ve never asked for
help on a case before...we’ve always done it, sink or swim, on our own. So I’m
coming to you.”
“Oh,” said Claudia with a forced smile. She resisted
the urge to joke to Fitch that she seemed to be the only FBII agent able to
close a case now, but that wasn’t going to help the situation.
“We have this case...the Coffee Shop Murders, we call
them. Three murders, committed by people who used the Jimmy Cochrane’s prize
against the winners. They all seem like separate cases...but the similarities
are too coincidental to be actually separate.”
“OK.” Claudia nodded her head understanding the case.
“So what do you know about the case.”
“Here’s what we’ve got.” Fitchner then pulled out a
USB stick with the cases files on Claudia’s desk. “Listen...um.” Fitchner let
out a breath before continuing. “When we write the case report, because of this
whole review thing, can you leave your name off the report?”
Claudia’s stare became purposeful and her relaxed look
soon turned terse.
“Oh,” she said sternly. “So you want me to do the work
while you get the glory...I see how this works. Well Fitch, I’m sympathetic to
your needs...but I’m not solving this
case for you.”
Fitchner angrily took his USB stick.
“I thought you’d be helpful,” he said, curtly.
“I am going to be helpful,” Claudia said firmly. “I am
not going to be your slave.”
The two stared at each other for some time before
Claudia broke the silence.
“Give me the stick,” said Claudia with a sigh. “Your
emotions are getting the better of you, so I’m going to let this go. However, I
want to know you’re going to hold your end of the bargain.”
“I will,” said Fitchner, returning the stick somewhat
relieved. “You have my word.”
December 8,
2015
10:10 local
time,
NAU
Presidential Palace,
Buffalo, Roman
New York
Joseph Reddick sat calmly at his desk, in front of him
his tablet where he was perusing the day’s headlines, and beside him was a
bottle of rum, which he drank out of as he was reading. Despite only having
read the news for 15 minutes, Reddick had already finished half of the bottle,
and was well on his way to finishing it. Keeping order in the quagmire that was North America was tough enough as it is, but after the murder of one of his closest friends, Seth Marks, his spirits hit an all time low.
He took another huge gulp of his rum and muttered the
headlines to himself:
“Police use water cannons on homeless protesters in
Evansville.”
“Unemployment continues to climb in Oklahoma.”
“Millions march against minimum wage decrease,
Governor unmoved.”
“Porn star killed in Calgary, suspect arrested.”
“Wife of jailed rapist continues to insist victim’s
story is bogus.”
“Rootes to lay off thousands at Virginia factory.”
“Neglect finally claims Passmore Bridge, motorists
stranded.”
“Looting still rampant in Long Beach as power still
not restored since Hurricane Pablo.”
Oh gosh, thought Reddick to himself as he read another headline, I can’t believe this- this is the last
straw! He downed the rest of his rum which caused him to fall asleep at his
desk. When he woke up an hour later, he made a phone call.
“Yep,” he said, after several deep breaths. “Tonight’s
the night...yes I’m sure.” He scratched his eyes and wiped the tears that were
beginning to form. “I’ve never been more sure of it in my life.”
Reddick said his goodbye and hung up the phone, before
having more drink out of his bottle. He then let out a long gasp, feeling the
sting of his drink. He then took another drink, gulping down his bottle and
finishing it, taking several deep breaths after he did, before the wooziness of
his drinking got to him making him fall fast asleep.
December 8,
2015,
11:28 local
time,
FBII
Headquarters,
Buffalo, Roman
New York
“Well that’s not surprising,” said Pucci as he looked
at the notice board set up in his floor’s break room, getting there after he
nearly tripped over a passed out agent. “I bet it’s Ronnie...he never seems to
learn some dogs you just don’t pet.”
Other notices also caught the agent’s eye.
“ ‘Please don’t print anything that is inessential’,”
he said, scoffing. “Paper’s inexpensive, why’s that the one thing we always need to cut down on.” He shook his
head reading another notice. “Janice needs to stop leaving her groceries in the
fridge...we’re not supposed to live here.” He continued reading. “Gotta be
Agrippina...how many times have I given her my stapler?” He read another and
laughed. “Septimus never quite did make any sense to me...he thinks he’s a
prankster but he doesn’t have the flair.”
Finally, one notice caught his eye, taking him aback.
“Those AVTF bastards!” Pucci said loudly, shaking his
head in disgust.
“Pooch,” said Chestnut, entering the room. “Is
everything okay? I heard you from my desk.” He then waddled his way eyeing the
full coffee pot, emptying a container full of sugar into it and drank the
resulting coffee straight from the pot.
“President Reddick is getting them to be his security
detail for an announcement at the White House! A quick, ten minute job that
will have no stress, since the President’s got his own guys anyway...meanwhile, we have to be stuck with those nosy OPR
jerks who fuss over one ‘t’ that isn’t crossed. How is that right?”
“Well, they are the only ones closing cases these
days...I don’t blame them for getting a plush assignment.”
“They’ve been here for little over a year...I gave my life to the FBII...and this is the thanks I get? Do know how
long it took for me to get a plush
assignment? Ten years. I’m still waiting on my next one.”
“I’ve never had one,” said Proctor as she walked in,
“and I’ve been here since 1998.” She sat down at one of the tables and opened
the flask she carried with her in her blazer pocket, downing quite a bit of it’s
contents in a few gulps.
“Ah,” said Proctor, letting out a deep but satisfied
breath. “That’s what I needed!” She
laughed loudly and licked her lips, leaning back in her chair and drinking
again from her flask before letting out another sigh of relief.
“Is that the bourbon I gave you?” Pucci asked with a
smile.
“It sure is!” Proctor said with excitement. “Gosh, it’s
so good!”
“You’re,” said Chestnut with a gasp. “You’re...drinking...on...the...job?
With the...OPR...around?”
“Do you think I give one whit what those birdbrains think?” Proctor said, sneering at
Chestnut. She then took another drink while Pucci laughed.
“I know, but,” stammered Chesnut, slurping down the pot,
“we...we could lose our jobs...you’re
taking on a very big risk.”
“Do you think,” said Proctor, her words starting to
slur, “do you think I’m worried about zat?”
“Yeah,” said Pucci, “what’s Black going to do? Fire everyone? We’re far from the only ones
who’ve failed recently...practically the entire
department is under review.”
“Ezatly,” said Proctor with a laugh. “He wouz has no
vorkers lev.” She then slumped to the desk laughing, before downing her flask
and falling asleep on the table.
Pucci took Proctor’s flask and put it in his pocket
before walking to Chestnut.
“Vince,” he said, putting his hand on his shoulder.
“There’s a lot of stress going around...morale’s pretty low. Truth is, Galla’s
the only one who has closed a case in months. Besides, look around you...do a
tour of this floor some time...everyone
has their face buried in some kind of drink. It’s not just Emily.”
“I know,” said Chestnut with a sigh. He wanted to
mention that it was still wrong to drink on the job but he realized what does it
mean to “do the right thing” when no is getting anything right?
December 8,
2015,
13:02 local
time,
FBII
Headquarters,
Buffalo, Roman
New York
“Hi,” said Claudia as Collins walked in to her office.
“Close the door.” Collins did so and calmly took his seat.
“Heidi Sanderson’s remains were reportedly found
today,” said Claudia, leaning forward with her hands clasped in front of her.
“ ‘Reportedly’?” said Collins. “You don’t believe the
report. Any reason why?”
“A few weeks ago, a woman by the name of Regina
Goldman contacted me stating that, alongside her police officer friends Tyler
Kuang and Ernest Madnis, she had suspicions regarding the legitimacy of the
investigation into Sanderson’s disappearance. Madnis and Kuang brought in the
butler who worked at the Eternal Sunshine Resort for what they thought was
questioning, but their captain, Harvey Monroe, insisted on pinning the crime on
him. The butler, Robert Yates, reportedly played along but coded his message to
reveal what he actually saw, and this person may be the one who kidnapped
Heidi.”
“How do you know that Yates didn’t do it? They have
his DNA on Heidi.”
“I took a look at the report…noticed that the remains
that were stated to have been Heidi’s are in a state of decomposition that is
further along than they would be if Heidi were killed when Monroe said she
would be. Furthermore, surveillance footage at the resort shows that Yates didn’t
even get close to Heidi’s room- in fact, he worked in another room at the time
of Heidi’s abduction.”
“What about Yates’ contact records? Heidi’s kidnapper
could still have ties to Yates.”
“As far as I can see through his records he made no
contacts with anyone suspicious. He only calls his wife, isn’t on social
media…I don’t think he has many friends.”
“It still doesn’t preclude him.”
“Yeah…but I also found out that Monroe received a
$20,000 payment from an Arlynali account, which had the same serial number of
the account George Walker used.”
“The Soldiers…they paid Monroe to look the other way
so they could kidnap Heidi without interference.”
“Looks like it...but, that’s not where it gets
interesting.”
Collins’ eyes perked up with interest. “It’s not?”
“Another Arlynali account also paid the Arlynali
account that paid Monroe.”
“So someone sold Heidi to the Soldiers, and paid off
Monroe to have him frame it as a crime.”
“Hide evidence of the ring.”
“I’m not sure why they would hide it...Birea’s
marriage problem is no secret, and ‘those in the know’ sure believe it exists.”
“True, but there must be something about the ring- or
just Heidi- that would make her kidnappers take an extra step to frame her
kidnapping as a murder.”
“Yes...because why go through all that trouble to hide
Heidi’s kidnapping.”
“So...we need to figure out who kidnapped Heidi. If we
can find her...well, I think you know how the rest of that sentence goes.”
Collins chuckled. “Oh yes I do...and I can’t wait to
get that started.”
December 8,
2015,
20:41 local
time,
NAU
Presidential Palace,
Buffalo, Roman
New York
“Joseph,” said Persephone, kissing Reddick on the lips
as she greeted the President in his suite. “We’ve got everything ready. We’ll
get the fake body into the Library along with the FBII weaponry as soon as you
say the word.”
“Of course,” said Reddick, who let out a euphoric
smile and looked happily around the room, with no cares left in the world it
seems. “You know...it just feels right
doesn’t it?” He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes momentarily, before
unleashing another big smile.
“Are,” said Persephone, “are you okay?”
“Me?” Reddick said, grinning with glee. “Why wouldn’t
I be?”
“Uh,” said Persephone, giving Reddick a weird look.
“If you say so...” Persephone then left the room, which allowed the President’s
media team to set up their equipment.
In a few minutes, Reddick would begin his speech,
which would announce from his desk. He would be flanked by the AVTF, who were
simply there for show as Reddick already had a security team around him.
“I’m glad we got this gig,” said AVTF junior agent
Thomas Bartlett, watching as the President set up his desk.
“I guess I am too,” said AVTF senior agent Phineas
Malcolm, who was quite bored. “Sure beats having to examine a dead body, I
suppose.”
Eventually, Reddick would begin his address, looking
right into the camera. It was a rudimentary message to the Union, broadcast
live, explaining to its citizens that Reddick was proud of North Americans and
was happy that, despite all the hardships the continent was going through, the
people still stuck together and helped each other out.
“We could have made this like Europe,” he said with
conviction, “where it’s a free-for-all where the people have nothing and fight
over every last morsel that becomes available…but we in North America did not.
We have said that despite our struggles, we will struggle together, and that
gives me hope that one day we will again rise as a formidable force in the
world. I want all of you to cling to that hope, and cherish it, for I promise
one day it will be realized.
“I have done what I can- now it’s your turn. I want
all of you to continue my legacy and do not let this hope go to waste. There
are people that want to divide you but do not let them do that- because
division only leads to chaos and destroys hope.”
“He sounds like he’s saying goodbye,” said Clauida to
herself. She then texted her team to warn them that Reddick might be suicidal
but only junior agent Julia Pearl responded, the two men not paying the message
any heed.
“I’ll keep an eye on it,” Pearl said, writing back to
Claudia.
After Reddick closed his address, Claudia and Pearl
walked with him, making small talk as they went, until they came to the
Presidential Library. There, the agents were stopped by a Presidential Guard,
whose nametag was conspicuously absent and whose body camera was conveniently
not working.
“Sorry,” said the Guard, stopping Claudia and Pearl
cold. “Just the President enters here.” It was Guard Roberts, whom Claudia had
issues with a few years earlier in Toronto but it didn’t strike her then.
Roberts, though, clearly remembered her.
“Sir,” said Claudia, wondering about the absence of
his nametag, “I have reason to believe the President might hurt himself.”
“Well that’s not really any of your concern,” said
Roberts. “Your job was just to provide backup…we’re supposed to do the heavy
lifting…we’ve got the President covered.”
“You don’t seem to be troubled at all that the
President read a suicide note on air, do you?” said Pearl, giving Roberts a
look.
“Suicide note?” said Roberts, scoffing.
“He talked a lot about legacy,” said Pearl, “and even
said that he’s ‘done his job’ and now it’s the public’s turn to finish what he
started.”
“Sure he did,” said Roberts curtly.
Claudia and Pearl turned their heads to look at each
other, puzzled by what Roberts said. “Surely you heard the same speech we did,”
said Claudia with her arms folded.
“ ‘Surely you heard the same speech we did’,” replied
Roberts, mocking Claudia’s voice.
“Hey!” Claudia said, angrily waving her finger at
Roberts, “that’s uncalled for! We’re on the same team!”
Roberts chuckled. “Are we?” he said with a smug smirk.
Just then another Guard, also not wearing a nametag
nor having his body camera working, emerged from the Library, whispering in
Roberts’ ear.
Pearl suspected something wrong, so she pushed the
Guards out of the way and opened the Library doors.
There was Reddick, lying on the ground, motionless, a
knife stuck in his chest and a gag on his mouth. Blood was oozing out of his
body, but his breathing had stopped and his skin was lightening into a pale
husk. Some books had been strewn all over the floor and a small window was open
wide, but other than Reddick’s body, the scene was unremarkable.
“Great,” said Roberts. “An assassin broke through. At
least we know it wasn’t The Revenant.”
“Doesn’t matter,” said the Library Guard. “The AVTF
were supposed to secure the windows and they didn’t do that. Now the President
is dead.”
“Um, excuse me?”
Pearl said sternly. “We weren’t supposed to do anything- we’re just here for backup, remember? You guys were
supposed to handle the windows...not us.”
“Guys,” said Claudia, trying to be a cooler head.
“Playing the ‘blame game’ will get us nowhere. First of all, the crime scene
shows no obvious signs of a struggle, and the ‘mess’ isn’t very broad or
uncontrolled- it seems obvious to me that Reddick committed suicide and tried
to cover it up by opening the window- which isn’t big enough for a person to
fit through anyway- and throwing some books on the ground. Look at his desk- it’s
spotless.”
“What were you doing when Reddick was killed?” Pearl
asked, turning to the Library Guard.
“I don’t know,” said the Library Guard, rubbing his
head and wincing, though Pearl and Claudia didn’t believe the actions to be
genuine. “I got clubbed by the assassin.”
“I’m sure you were,” Claudia said, deadpanning. She
examined the room before shaking her head and continuing. “My question now is,
what did he expect to gain doing this?”
December 9,
2015,
08:11 local
time,
FBII
Headquarters,
Buffalo, Roman
New York
“I don’t understand this,” said FBII Director Lucius
Black in his office to his guest, North American Prefect Eva Avita. “The AVTF
would not allow this to happen. Joseph Reddick set them up.”
“I have no reason to believe that,” said Avita curtly.
“The Guard’s Report was thorough, and the scenario they have plotted is
plausible. The AVTF grasped at straws. Therefore, they need to be held
accountable.”
“Seriously, Eva...have you not seen the crime scene? The window our assassin supposedly jumped
into is way too small for a human to fit through, unless the human was a dwarf
in which case I find it hard to believe Reddick would be overpowered and stabbed, which requires a close
proximity. Books were randomly tossed everywhere, instead of in some kind of
sequence which you would expect with a struggle. Furthermore, the only blood
Reddick shed was after his stabbing, when you’d expect to see it all over the
room.”
“The cameras were not operational,” said Avita, “which
the Guards said the AVTF were supposed to ensure would operate and they didn’t.
They also told me the state of the room was due to them having cleaned up a bit
before Claudia and Pearl took their pictures. Lastly, no gloves were found on
Reddick’s person and no fingerprints were left on the knife...how could that
happen if it was a suicide?”
Black took a deep breath and sighed, trying to think
of a response. Before he could, Avita interjected.
“I don’t care what you have to say,” Avita said,
tersely. “Here’s what I do know- the President of Illinois is dead, the
Kentuckian Government was compromised and now, while he may have had little
actual power, the only man capable of keeping this continent’s wits about
itself- Reddick- is dead. That was all
this year, Lucius, and all due to the
failures of the AVTF that you said would stop all this. So don’t go and tell me
that they’ve had ‘a rough patch’ or that ‘they need more time’- no, Lucius,
their time has run out.”
Black sighed. “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “However,
the AVTF was there to stop crimes, not look over corrupt government officials.
Louisville was a weird case, but we got the job done. We also couldn’t
anticipate The Revenant striking in Illinois- who could? As for Reddick...you
know what my position is.”
“Let me put it this way,” said Avita sternly. “If you
don’t fire them, I will- and then I’ll fire you. Choose your path wisely.”
December 9,
2015,
09:35 local
time,
Outside the
FBII Headquarters,
Buffalo, Roman
New York
“Hi Galla,” said Black sombrely, greeting Claudia as
she exited the shuttle bus that took her from the FBII Clearance Zone at the
nearby subway station.
“Hi Lucius,” said Claudia, readjusting her parka,
confused at the sight of Black flanked by two security guards. “What’s going
on?”
“There’s no easy way for me to say this,” said Black,
“but I have to relieve you and your team of your duties.”
“What?” Claudia said, her heart sinking at the news.
She wiped her faced and took a deep breath, trying her best to stay composed,
but there was no way that she could. “Surely there must be some kind of
mistake,” she said through tears. “We...we...we did everything that we
could...Lucius...no!” She turned
around and buried her head in her hands, which muffled the sounds and hid her
tears as she cried, relentlessly.
“Galla,” said Black, overcome with emotions himself.
He walked over and put his hand on Claudia’s shoulder. “Galla, I-”
“Don’t touch
me,” snapped Claudia, shirking away from him. “I don’t know who you are
anymore! All I know is that you don’t deserve
to comfort me anymore! I know what you did...you sold me out.”
“Galla...”
“Ms. Claudia to you now!”
“Fine...Ms. Claudia...there was nothing I could do.
The Presidential Guard Report was thorough...I had no evidence to corroborate
what you gave me. The Guards told me they cleaned up the scene and you and
Pearl barged in, without authorization I might add, midway through that
process. I had no choice.”
“Whatever...you are far from a man of your principles!” She angrily took out her gun
and her badge and gave them to Black, who accepted them in stunned silence.
Claudia then stormed off to walk back to the shuttle bus, not even looking back
at the offices of her former employment.
Black too looked on, forlornly, his heart breaking for
Claudia. He had grown fond of her, seeing how tirelessly she worked and how she
wouldn’t let things- nor cut corners- in her pursuit of justice. Abrasive, yes,
and her maverick tendencies with her fellow law enforcement officers left her
with few allies, but few in the competitive LEO world could be expected to be
genuinely friendly. He looked on as she left, hoping and wishing that sooner,
rather than later, she’d get back on her feet, perhaps one day back at the
FBII.
The rest of the firings he did the less formal way
through Human Resources, since he wasn’t personally connected to the rest of
the AVTF. This would include ending his relationship with Omega, since they
were informants with the AVTF. He, though, declined to press any charges or
issue any warrants against them, since Omega had been granted immunity for its
criminal activities in exchange for participating with the AVTF and figured
“firing” them would send them the message that they failed him too. Not that
this would really harm Omega in any way- with Collins’ investments and Polina
Nikolaevna’s pull as a philanthropist and a (legitimate) business owner
herself, the organization was in fine shape. They just could no longer rely on
the FBII, which stung a little in terms of pride but Omega wasn’t going to let
pride get in the way of their activities.
Shortly after being informed of his “dismissal”,
Collins received a phone call.
“Hello?” he said briskly.
“Hi,” said the caller. “I have a Carter Downey who
wishes to speak to you.”
“As I expected,” Collins said. “I vetted him
yesterday, he can speak to me.”
“Hello?” Carter said, taking over the phone
conversation.
“You’ve finally figured it out,” said Collins.
“Congratulations, Mr. Downey.”
“Yeah, well, it was a pain in the neck,” said Carter,
audibly frustrated. “How many background checks do you really need?”
“As many as we need,” said Collins, curtly.
“Apologies,” said Carter. “I understand...so can you
help me or not?”
“Yes I can,” said Collins. “Are you in Buffalo?”
“Yes,” said Carter.
“Meet me in Depew,” said Collins. “Your handler will
tell you where to go. You are to arrive alone, though.”
“No problem,” said Carter, relieved but nervous about
the cagey nature of the process. “I’m looking forward to our arrangement.”
“Treachery is
not a trait of the lowest common denominator- rather, it is a trait of the
highest.”- Guardino, “The Power of Reason” (1666)
