July 2076
Council Headquarters
Location Unknown

“Sleep tight, Scope,” Cassie said as she watched Alex drift away into an exhausted slumber. The harsh lighting of the cell almost made her wonder how anyone could sleep. Almost. After the last few days, very little surprised her anymore.

Finding Alex had been difficult. He was a great soldier, maybe the best in all of Lionheart, despite his age. But one thing Alex was not good at was walking away when his friends were in danger. Cassie had known he wouldn’t just run, try to escape the city. No, he would try to draw them away and give Blake and the others a chance to escape. Not that it mattered much. The only member of Lionheart Security who hadn’t been accounted for was the pilot, Karyn Sorenson, who simply hadn’t shown back up at the airport to pick up the ragtag group of survivors from the assault on the convention center. They hadn’t had a chance when the Pride team rolled up to the airport and surrounded them.

“Gemini, report to the Council Chamber. Your review and contract renewal negotiations start in ten minutes,” Richard Malwood said over the radio. “I hope I don’t need to remind you not to keep them waiting.”

“Of course not, sir,” she replied stiffly. “I’m already on my way.” 

Cassie ended the transmission, thankful that he wasn’t going to be present. Richard ‘Napalm’ Malwood was essentially the new head of security for the Council, the shadowy group who had, Cassie believed, been responsible for the attack on the Convention Center and Chicago as a whole. The attack on the Convention made sense. She still didn’t understand why they helped the Canadians attack Chicago, but she was determined to find out. 

Cassie took one more longing look at Alex’s sleeping form down on the floor of the concrete cell. She had not wanted to have to capture him, but she was also operating under a different contract from the one her friends were. As she walked down the corridor, she briefly stopped at the other cells. Each held a member of her former company; Goliath, Dash, Church, Viboro, and quite a few others she recognized but couldn’t identify by name.

Sean, Jimmy, Dempsey, Jorge, and now Alex, she thought. Sorry guys, I had no choice. 

Yari and Semtex had been killed in the fighting, at least that was what she heard. That wasn’t information she had wanted to relay to Alex when they captured him. His interrogation was going to be brutal to begin with, he didn’t need memories of his fallen mentors on top of that. Cassie was so lost in her thoughts of the events of the past four days that she nearly ran into one of the soldiers standing guard outside the Council Chamber.

“Whoa, hey there Gemini, heads up,” Justin ‘Granite’ Malwood said. “I wouldn’t go in there quite yet, Dad and Price are in with the council right now.” 

Vincent ‘Price’ Roberts, Cassie’s former Drill Sergeant before her group had been integrated with Alex’s during boot camp, had become somewhat of a protector to the Malwood brothers. He was cool, if not friendly, toward Cassie, but he seemed to share her distaste for Jeremy. Justin, on the other hand, reminded her of no one as much as Alex. He was warm and humorous, so unlike his father and younger brother that she often had wondered if he was even related to the two. But one look at him standing with Sebastian or Richard and it was obvious that they were blood.

“Sorry, Granite, I was just thinking,” she replied, quickly pulling her emotions in and resuming her cool formality. “They put you on guard out here just for their meeting or do you get the honor of standing here all day?” She had intended it to be a joke, but found little humor left after the events of the past week.

“Nah, I’m just waiting for them. We’re headed out today,” Justin said, smiling slightly. “Something about the Council heading out west and we get to go make preparations. It’ll be good to be home.”

“You need to learn when to talk about sensitive information and when you keep your mouth shut, Granite,” Richard Malwood growled from behind his son. At Justin’s embarrassed expression and bowed head, the older man moved past his son to stand directly in front of Cassie. Looking down at her, he sneered, “The Council awaits, Gemini. Watch what you say. You’re in the lion’s den, now.” With that, he swept past her, followed by Price and Granite, who each gave her small smiles and apologetic eyebrow lifts as they followed down the hallway.

Then they were gone. Cassie was alone, and felt it not for the first time since she had come to the Council’s lair. With a deep breath, she pushed open the fogged up glass door. The room she entered was dark, near pitch black but for a few dimly lit blue neon lights. They cast a ghostly sapphire glow throughout the room and Cassie knew it was intended to create a feeling of uncertainty for those appearing before the Council. Cassie shook of the ominous feeling as she snapped her heels together and saluted.

“Corporal Cassandra Hawthorne, call sign Gemini, requesting permission to approach the Council,” she repeated the lines she had practices for the past two days. 

The Council was very formal, almost to the point of being fanatical about decorum and rank. Cassie was dubious about the whole thing, but she kept that to herself. She was almost done with her task and she wasn’t about to blow it now by being obnoxious.

“You may approach,” said one of the shrouded members of the council. His voice was masked with voice synthesizer. They really don’t want anyone to know who they are, she thought to herself as she tentatively moved further into the darkness. “Please have a seat.” 

A light slowly revealed a wood chair. There was nothing ornate or unusual about it, nor any indication of straps or bindings. Nevertheless, Cassie approached it with caution and slowly took a seat.

“Ms. Hawthorne, the Council thanks you for your service. We have made preparations for your payment to be delivered to you in your quarters tonight, full in cash, as you requested,” the shrouded figure said again.

“Thank you, sir,” she managed, too nervous to think of much else. The mysterious council members, the darkened room, the blue glow, the plain chair, they all gave her a very bad feeling that she couldn’t shake.

“We would like to speak with you about a new contract. Mr. Grant here will coordinate that, since you have already worked with him before,” the dark figure said, motioning to the figure to his left. Mr. Grant simply nodded, a gesture Cassie could only barely make out in the gloom. “Now, we have come by some news of a far more distressing nature. We thought a family member would help with breaking it to you.”

Cassie was truly mystified by what the man meant now. Distressing news, a family member here, what is he talking about, she wondered, but only for a moment. She watched as the central figure of the group stood and moved out of the shadows.

“Your father was assassinated during the attack, Cassie,” Jordan Hawthorne said, her features neutral, though her eyes betrayed her own sadness, as she stepped out of the dark shroud. “Your dad is dead, Cassie. I’m so, so very sorry.”

Cassie slumped in her chair. She felt tears welling up, felt them streaming down her face, but she didn’t actually cry. The shock and trauma of the attack on the Convention Center, the betrayal and subsequent capture of her old team, the sniper duel with Alex, it was all too much for her to process. So she just let the tears fall, letting herself be guided out of the room by her aunt. She subconsciously knew they were moving out through the main doors and down the hall, towards her quarters, but everything seemed to be a blur. Images of memories, of her friends, and mostly of her father, flashed across her field of vision.

When she finally snapped out of her daze, she was lying down sideways on the cot in her quarters. Her aunt was perched on the edge of folding chair across from the bed, watching Cassie. Her expression was a mixture of her normal, harsh determination and what looked like genuine sadness. Jordan Hawthorne was not known for being overly emotional.

“I want to know everything. Why my dad is dead. Why I was signed up to betray everyone. How you are involved,” Cassie said through gritted teeth as she fought to reign in her emotions. Her aunt nodded slowly, as if weighing her word. Cassie pushed through with her demands. “Start with why all of this destruction.”

Jordan Hawthorne nodded and paused a moment before beginning.

“The Second Constitutional Convention, the convention you were assigned to act as security for, was going to betray the country,” her aunt began bluntly. “They had provisions in the new documents that would have barred private weapon ownership, ceded natural resource control to the federal government, and created a mandatory military service of six years for every citizen upon their majority. They were going to turn the country into a socialist police state.”

“I hope you have proof of that, because I’m fairly certain anything that was in the convention center is gone now,” Cassie said evenly. In the wake of the news that her only remaining parent was dead, nothing her aunt was telling her seemed shocking. “Napalm had the building demolished after they executed the President.” 

Cassie hadn’t found out about that detail until she had arrived at the headquarters with Alex in custody. She was glad, for her part, that she hadn’t been forced to participate in executions.

“Our country was being held hostages by those traitors! We did the nation a service by having them killed!” Jordan Hawthorne nearly shouted, rising six inches out of her chair. Cassie’s eyes widened slightly in surprise at her aunt’s bloodthirsty vehemence. “As I said, they were going to betray the nation without so much as asking their constituents what they wanted. We knew everyone high up in the government was involved and we decided to take matters into our own hands. ‘If ever time should come, when vain and aspiring men shall possess the highest seats in government, our country will stand in need of its experienced patriots to prevent its ruin.’ John Adams said that and it is every bit as relevant today as it was three hundred years ago.”

Cassie couldn’t believe what she was hearing but she could see the naked conviction in her aunt’s eyes. Jordan Hawthorne truly thought herself a patriot for what she had done. Cassie didn’t pause long to think, instead resolving to find out as much as she could about what the goals behind the plot were. The mission was not nearly over and anything else she could find out might prove integral to the final outcome.

“So why get me involved? Why get my dad involved? Why couldn’t you just recruit some nutjob to blow himself up at the conference?” she asked, the anger in her voice shallowing out into an emotionless monotone.

“Yes, to be sure, we could have just bombed the conference,” Jordan Hawthorne replied, her own temper simmering as well. “But what would that have accomplished? The delegates and the President would be dead, but the bombers would be dead. No one would be left to punish. No, we needed to make it look like a betrayal by their own people. That’s where Blake and Lionheart Security came in. We needed to make it look like they were responsible for the execution. We have documents and video feeds showing that several high ranking military leaders organized the strike, complete with Pentagon funding. Not to mention the irrevocable truth of what was in the new Constitution. Once that information makes it into the nightly newscasts, there won’t be a soul in the nation loyal to the fallen regime. To the public, this will be an upper echelon civil war, and the Council will be here to set things right. And as to those documents, we do, in fact, have the actual copies of what the delegates were there to sign. Those didn’t need any forging.

“As to your father, unfortunately, he was not the only innocent casualty in this new revolution. Every organization has spies and ours is no exception to the rule. Word got out that we were planning our attack for the day of the Convention. As soon as it was confirmed that we had struck down the old government, the Canadians and Mexicans poured across the border, seeking to use the chaos in their favor to take the land they wanted in their previous wars with our country. Your father wasn’t killed by anyone on our side Cassie. He was killed for standing up to the Mexicans as they marched into Santa Barbara. He called for a ceasefire after the initial attack on the southern border. He was killed trying to save innocent lives from the fires of war. He was a hero and a patriot. And I promise you, his death will be avenged.”

Cassie stared at her aunt, unable to cope with everything she had learned. She grieved for her father, but she slowly found herself unable to feel anything at all. The torrent of news had overwhelmed her and it was all she could do to simply stay focused on her task, still floating at the back of her consciousness. 

“I’ll leave you alone, if you’d like,” Jordan Hawthorne said, finally breaking up the minutes of silence.

“No, I have an appointment with Mr. Grant, to go over the rest of the my contract,” Cassie said, quietly. Then she looked her aunt in the eyes and finished with forced conviction, “And my commitment to a renewal.”

Jordan Hawthorne smiled as she rose to help Cassie stand. She hugged her niece close, brushing her fingers through Cassie’s raven hair. Cassie let herself be held, forcing the terror at being touched by a psychopath who was all she had left of a family. After a few moments, Cassie gently disengaged.

“I can find my own way there. I’m sure the Council has a busy schedule, what with needing to fly to Washington and arrange for terms with the Canadians and Mexicans,” Cassie said, mustering what little remaining confidence she had. “I’ll make sure to stop by after the interrogation of the prisoners. Mr. Grant wants me in there personally, you know, to shake them up a bit.” 

She smiled briefly at her aunt before pushing through the door to the hallway. Jordan Hawthorne smiled confidently to herself. The conversation had gone better than she had expected. Cassie was a bright girl, but even she wouldn’t be able to cope with that much psychological trauma in one serving. 

They just had to keep her close for a few more days and then they could clean up the whole mess.

* * *

Cassie stopped outside the door to Mr. Grant’s private office. She had only spoken with him once, on the phone, when he had called her at graduation to offer her the contract. They had only spoken for ten minutes, but that was as long as it took him to convince her of the mission. As it turned out, she already knew most of what her aunt had told her. She knew of the Council’s plans to attack the convention, of their plans to take hold of government, even of their plan to frame Lionheart Security for the attack. It was Mr. Grant himself, after all, who had told her about it all.

“Please take a seat,” he said quietly as she entered the office. The room was spartan, devoid of any family photos or personal decor. Given the secrecy of the organization, she knew that was probably normal for every member of the Council. “I’m sorry you had to hear about your father from her.”

As Cassie sat she got her first real look at the man who had contracted her. He was average height, lean and obviously in very fit shape. Probably in his mid-forties, his blond hair and beard were shot with white, but she suspected that was only noticeable in low light settings. His eyes were piercing ice-blue and reminded her very much of Alex’s. That thought made her uncomfortable, as she shifted in her seat.

“It’s alright. I’d rather hear it from someone cold like her, than from someone I love or respect. Is the plan still on schedule, Mr. Grant?” she asked quietly. She wasn’t sure if the room was bugged, in which case it probably wouldn’t matter, but she didn’t want anyone overhearing through an air duct or the cracks in the door frame.

“Yes, we are still on schedule. Please, my name is Michael. I would prefer if you addressed me by that than this silly pseudonym,” he replied.

“Is your last name really Grant at all, then, Michael?” she asked tentatively, knowing she was pushing the boundaries of what was acceptable to ask a member of the Council. Michael just chuckled and shook his head.

“No, nor is your aunt’s last name really Lincoln. Those names were chosen to push our ‘patriotic’ viewpoint on those working with the organization,” Michael replied, theatrically miming quotations marks as he said it. “Psychology can be a powerful tool, may times more powerful than weapons. But none of that matters now. What matters is how we are going to get you all out.”

“It also helps to have inside help,” a voice from the shadows said as a figure moved from the corner of the room. Casse spun out of her chair, whipping her knife from her thigh sheath. She crouched into her fight stance, teeth bared in an almost feral challenge to the stranger. The figure held up hand plaintively, palms outwards. “Hey, hey, Cassie. No need to slice me up. I’m with you guys.”

“Justin?” Cassie asked as the elder Malwood brother stepped into the low light near Michael’s desk. “What are you doing here, helping us?”

“Justin’s been with me from the beginning,” Michael said with a small nod towards the young man. “He has taken great personal risk to help me, but he and I couldn’t do this alone. That’s why I needed someone in Lionheart, but someone with personal ties to the Council as well.”

“As to why I am helping,” Justin replied, his voice easy and confident. “What my Dad is doing is wrong. What this organization is doing is wrong. It’s going to cause more death and destruction than they think. And I’m scared.”

“Of what?” Cassie asked quietly.

“I’m scared that their type of patriotism might spread. That this revolutionary fever might infect so many people, that we step across a threshold we are not prepared for. Imagine what would happen if the Canadians and Mexicans embraced this idea. One, giant, civil war stretching from Alaska to Venezuela. And united, strong countries just a hop, skip and, a jump across two oceans, many of them bitter from the way our country has acted for the past century.”

“Lots of bad feelings in Europe and the Middle East,” Michael said quietly, helping Cassie towards the obvious conclusion. “Lots of land up for grabs over here, in the event of mass revolution.”

“World War III,” Cassie said breathlessly as she realized what they were implying.

“So yeah, I may have to fight my own father or brother, but I’d rather fight them than watch our country burn while they bicker over the ashes,” Justin said, his voice deadly serious, in a way Casse had never heard it. Justin moved away from the wall and leaned over the desk, between Cassie and Michael.

“So you see, Cassie, this is not just about bringing down the Council,” Michael said. “This is about freeing the one group of people that may have the power and ability to prevent full scale global war. So you have to be in all the way. Justin has already thrown his lot in with me. If we get caught, it’ll be a firing squad or a noose, and you’re not likely to get a say in how you go out. Can you accept that?”

Cassie stared back at him, silent. Justin too, said nothing as he held Michael gaze. Michael nodded to the two of them, as if satisfied that they understood the full implications of what was going to happen. After sorting through a few things in a drawer, Michael produced a small holographic imager, similar to the DIDs Alex and Cassie had used in their duel. He placed it on the desk between them and touched a small node on the side. Blue light erupted from the center of the device and the three-dimensional map grew to the size of a beach ball, above and in front of her. Casse recognized it was the layout of the building, or bunker rather, that they were currently in.

As she studied the map, Michael rolled his sleeves up. The room was ventilated but not air conditioned and the temperature hovered around 75 fahrenheit pretty much all the time. Cassie noticed a tattoo on Michael’s arm and her breath caught in chest as she read the ink.

“Alex & Rachel,” she almost whispered, completely oblivious to the fact that Michael and Justin were staring at her. “I thought you looked like him. But it turns out he looks like you. But that’s impossible. That means you’re -”

* * *

“Wake up, Corporal Samuelson,” a voice behind Alex said. Alex shook his head and looked around, alarmed at his new surroundings. Opening his eyes, he saw he was still bathed in blinding lights. Instead of the cold floor of his cell, he found he was now strapped to a metal chair, his wrists and ankles fastened to the struts of the chair. “Good to see you so chippy. I hope the accommodations weren’t too uncomfortable.”

“Who the hell are you,” Alex shouted, unsure of the direction of the voice, or how close they were to him.

“Calm down, Alex. No need to shout,” Cassie said into his ear. The feeling of her breath on the back of his neck caused his blood pressure to rise, but he forced it back down. 

Remember what she did, Alex, he reminded himself. She isn’t your friend.

“Please state your name, for the record,” the other voice said from the darkness in front of Alex. Two hands, clasped together, appeared on the table. Their owner, however, kept his face hidden. “Please.”

“Alex Sage Samuelson. Corporal. Operational Callsign, Scope. Lionheart Security Corporation,” Alex said proudly. “I don’t know what you want from me, but I promise you won’t get it.”

“Alex, listen to what he has to say. He only want to help, I promise,” Cassie said, still behind Alex, but now standing further away, likely by the door. “Or don’t, but at least sit and watch.” The last was said with what Alex thought was a note of emphasis on watch but he wasn’t sure.

“My name is Mr. Grant, Alex. I’m one of the members of a governing body called the Council,” said the voice, his hands moving as if fidgeting. It seemed strange that someone with such a strong, imposing voice would fidget. Alex also registered the fact that his interrogator was using a voice modifier to protect his identity. “We’ve got a few questions for you, if you don’t mind.” 

Alex only half heard Mr. Grant’s voice. He was much more attentive to the man’s hands. The fidgeting had a pattern, one that seemed familiar, yet strange at the same time. Seeing Alex hadn’t heard, Mr. Grant slapped his hands down on the table. The crack of his palms on the metal surface caused Alex to jump from his momentary study.

“I asked you why Lionheart Security executed all those delegates, Mr. Samuelson!” the shadowy man shouted. Alex stared up in confusion and briefly tried looking back at Cassie.

“We didn’t kill anyone! We were ambushed by members of Pride Security, wearing false uniforms that disguised them to look like us!” Alex shouted back, panic rising. They thought he and his team were responsible for what had happened at the Convention.

“We have video of you killing those people in cold blood, of you personally executing the President! You’re going to be tried and executed for war crimes and terrorism against the government of the United States of America!” Mr. Grant shouted back, his voice commanding, but not overly angry. Alex’s mind worked furiously at the situation. “Unless you give me some truth, you’re going to find yourself staring down the barrels of six guns. We don’t use lethal injection for dogs like you.” The last was uttered with dark humor.

The world suddenly rotated left and all thoughts on the situation were lost. He fell to the concrete ground with a clatter and thump. Pain shot through his head as it struck the hard concrete of the floor and stars momentarily flashed in front of his vision. Two sets of hands gripped the chair and he felt something he hadn’t expected as he was pulled off the floor; a small jerk as someone cut his bindings and held a palm lightly over his wrists.

Cassie’s palm.

It made no sense. Why had she brought him all the way here, participated in the capture of the entire team, not including those killed in the battle at the Convention Center? She had helped another company capture his team and execute the prisoners, all the while framing Alex and his friends. Now she was cutting him loose from the bindings that held him in place, while he was being questioned by a member of this Council, a man at the heart of the entire conspiracy. Alex stared, bewildered, across the table at his interrogator, who still sat in the same spot, hands rapidly moving again. Alex watched the fingers move, back and forth, creating arcs, and shapes, and letters. 

It was sign language! Albeit, a very sloppy version of sign, meant to be subtle and probably undetected by anyone who didn’t already understand it.

Trust.... Cassie.... Justin.... Help.... Blake.... Defeat..... Council....

Alex heard the doors behind him click open as exasperated shouting echoed from down that hall.

“Stop the interrogation now! Mr. Grant is to be escorted back to his quarters immediately!” he heard a man shouting outside the room.

The lights in the room flickered on and Alex sat in mute shock. His father, Michael Samuelson, sat before him in the chair, smiling as he withdrew a large pistol from a holster strapped across his chest.

Love.... You.... Alex....

The voices shouting grew louder. Someone was banging on the door outside. Alex spun around, bringing the chair up defensively, like a lion trainer at a circus. Cassie and a young man Alex had never met, but who looked startlingly like Sebastian Malwood, stood with weapons drawn, watching the door. They didn’t seem to pay him any attention until the young man looked back and tossed him a pistol.

“I’m Justin. Sorry for the short notice, but we need to get the hell out of here,” Justin said. Alex caught the gun easily and automatically checked that a round was in the chamber. With weapon in hand, Alex felt safe for the first time in days. “Might want to close your eyes, it’s about to get bright.” Then he looked at Cassie, who nodded and place her palm on the door handle. “Get ready. Now!”

Cassie pulled the door open as Justin tossed a small canister out into the hallway. It clattered around several times before unleashing a concentrated blast of light. Despite closing his eyes, light seemed to flare in from the tiniest of corners. He heard a brief struggle as he opened his eyes. 

Though still bright, the light from the flash canister was rapidly fading and Alex could see the aftermath of the flash grenade. The man in the suit who had been charging so purposefully down the hallway lay unconscious, blood running onto the ground from a gash to his scalp. The two guards who had accompanied him also lay on the ground, unmoving. Justin leaned over and salvaged the pair’s rifles, throwing them to Alex and Michael. The weapon was an automatic carbine, though Alex had never seen its make, or likely its equal.

“Gotta love those flashers,” Justin chuckled, patting two more of the cannisters that hung from his vest. “Silent but deadly.” 

He grinned and Alex almost forgot the dangers they still faced. Cassie punched Justin in the shoulder, unamused. He retreated a step before stashing away his grin. He looked at Alex, suddenly serious.

“Cassie and I will get to the garage and get the APCs prepared,” he said. Then he looked over Alex’s shoulder at Michael Samuelson. “Don’t take too long getting everyone else out.” 

Without so much as a ‘goodbye’, he bolted out into the hallway, Cassie swiftly following. She flashed Alex a look that mixed regret, sorrow, excitement, and happiness all at once as she left the room. He realized he was holding his breath and forced himself to push the air from his lungs. Then he turned and once again came face to face with his father.

Next Chapter: Ch. 16 - Breakout