Chapter 2-9.5: Pawn's Trial - Julian's Homecoming

Paul- United Human Faction- Day 22

            Julian entered Paul’s suite to find the room in complete disarray. Papers were scattered everywhere, clothing was strewn across the floor and bed, there was even a large splash of red paint on the wall. He walked into the room carefully, being sure to prop the door open with the nearby stop. He expected the worst, but found his friend diligently working on his console. In the center of the heap on the floor was a small piece of plastic, propped up by the chaos surrounding it.

            It read, “do not disturb.”

            Julian didn’t.

            He was forgiven.

Chapter 2-9: Pawn's Trial - Homecoming

Sharon- United Human Faction- Day 22

            “Welcome home Julian,” Sharon whispered as he entered the suite.

            “What did I miss?” Julian asked, half jokingly.

            “Paul is having a rough time. He’s nothing like Thomas, but he’s having doubts.”

            “I don’t think we need to worry about his loyalty, not after what happened with him and Karen.”

            “I’m not worried about loyalty, Julian. I’m worried about our friend.”

            “Yeah,” muttered Julian, putting down his bags and facing the door, “I think I’ll go pay him a visit.”

            Julian walked out the still open door, leaving the mask in Sharon’s room. She examined the strange artifact, and noticed it was not the same as when she had last seen it. It was still intact, and there was no sign of any damage, but its color was no longer as pure as when she had first made it. The fabric covering its wooden frame was turning slightly yellow. She couldn’t help thinking of Thomas, watching his friend walk up wearing this stained mask. It was a sickening scene, and she couldn’t get it out of her mind. They were doing something wrong.

            She reached down to the filing cabinet next to the bed, and examined the officers’ roster. There was one name that caught her attention. Richard Campbell, Second Level Chief of Combat Operations. Paul had said something about this singular individual, but no one else. Everyone was ordinary except for this man. This man was evil. He was a villain, and he needed to be kept away from the hero’s job. Beginning the next day, he would be Level Three Chief of Incarcerated Hostiles. That fit his personality.

Chapter 2-8: Pawn's Trial - Slap on the Wrist

Julian- United Human Faction- Day 20

            Julian, mask and all, opened the door to Thomas’ SUV. The former face of the Faction sat at the wheel, leaning deep into his seat. The war was taking its toll on him almost as much as it had on Paul. He had been forced to drive through hostile territory for almost three weeks, hiding any connection he had to the Faction. That was not part of the Plan.

            “Did you enjoy your vacation?” asked Julian, coldly.

            Robert eyed the off-white mask and worn shirt of his leader, and replied, “Your plan can’t work.”

            Julian wasn’t surprised by Thomas’ lack of enthusiasm. The only founding member who had failed his mission was beginning to complain. God forbid he would blame himself. Julian’s plan was at fault. The masked man almost smiled at the thought of executing the bastard as a traitor.

            “And why not, Thomas? Is it because we lost New York, the hub of American economic activity? Or is it because Colorado, the state you promised the capture of, is practically neutral? Maybe it’s because the one member who was intended to be the figurehead of the revolution fell off the radar the second fighting broke out. You are no longer part of the Plan Thomas. However, I personally think that you would make an excellent spy for the Faction, seeing as you hid from the enemy for twenty days without even giving off that aura of superiority you produce so… flamboyantly.”

            “You don’t have the right to order me around, I was working toward our goals before you even took the idea seriously.”

            “I won’t give you orders, Thomas,” said Julian, exiting the car. “You’ll be at the mercy of the newly promoted Operational Director, a man named Carlos, who you might recognize. Have fun.”

            Thomas punched the car horn as hard as he could while Julian calmly walked away. Had there not been a sniper watching them, he probably would have directed his anger at the man causing it, or at least the mask that corrupted his former friend.

Chapter 2-7: Pawn's Trial - Animals in Uniform

Paul- United Human Faction- Day 20

            Paul’s seaside hotel room was as quiet as he could make it. The war was taking its toll on him, and the exhaustion was visible on his face. He lay on top of the bed, too tired to unmake it himself. Every computer monitor was turned off, and the phone was disconnected. He had ten full minutes of peace, more than he had had in almost two years.

            The sound of a keycard in the door pulled him out of his trance. Sharon entered the room and walked directly to the foot of his bed. He waited to see if she would leave him be, but after a few moments he gave in and opened his eyes. Sharon threw a folder onto his lap.

            “Restore Richard to Field Agent status,” she said, bluntly.

            “Richard who?” asked Paul, regaining consciousness.

            “You know exactly who, Paul,” Sharon yelled, taking the folder and throwing the first page into Paul’s face.

            He looked down at the page, and immediately recognized the face of what he had always dreaded would come out of his revolution.

            “No,” was his simple response.

            “He’s the kind of leader we need right now.”

            “He’s a sociopath! He murdered a prisoner of war!”

            “He wins his battles. That’s more than we can say for half our commanding officers.”

            “Sharon, the man threw poison gas into a cave. He’s a threat to the human race. If we give him power, he’ll turn the Faction into a mob. We are on the right side of worldwide sympathy, and he could ruin that!”

            “The plan doesn’t call for good foreign relations.”

            “You know what Sharon,” began Paul, now standing, “I believed in the plan, I really did. But now you and Julian are going too far. We are not going to commit crimes against humanity for your fanciful vision.”

            “We need more countries to join the fray,” hissed Sharon.
            “I won’t let this man commit atrocities,” finished Paul, returning to his bed.

            Sharon packed up her documents and left the room. She had tried to give Paul at least half of his will, leaving Richard at his assigned position. Now, though, she had to think of the plan. Richard would be promoted to the rank of Field Commander, taking over Carlos’ job. It was their only path to victory.

Chapter 2-6: Pawn's Trial -

Richard- United Human Faction- Day 15

            Everything was ready and in its place. Two humvees, packed to their limits with Faction soldiers, sat in the underground garage of their makeshift forward operating base.  Richard sat in the middle seat of the front vehicle, waiting for the right moment to move out. The minute hand of his watch almost perfectly lined up with its partner, and Richard let out a loud whistle. Both behemoths’ engines started immediately, and they were on their way.

            Richard’s company moved forward in relative quiet until a massive explosion rocked the front humvee. The driver struggled to get back on course as the rear passengers moved away from the now-cracked windows.

            The front passenger, a former soldier in the US Army, yelled back to Richard, “Are those shells supposed to be aimed at us?”

            “Yes,” Richard practically whispered, “but they aren’t supposed to be hitting us. Get that radio running.”

            The soldier pulled the radio from its holster and checked for a signal. Once he found the enemy line, he hailed, “Overlord, this is Hammer 4, please respond.”

            There was no response. He hailed two more times; knowing Overlord had to be listening. The third time, he included emergency codes in the message. The radio lit up with the sounds of computers humming and a single voice.

            “Hammer 4, this is Overlord. It’s good to know it’s really you. How many others are with you? Over.”

            “We’ve got Hammer 3 in tow, but no others, over.”

            “Roger that Hammer, the doors are open. Out”

            The soldier put the radio back, and grabbed his weapon.  The US base was in view, and getting closer by the second. Richard donned his battered helmet, and climbed up into the turret of the vehicle. The base was more fortified than their scouts had claimed, and a massive gate blocked the only visible entrance. The pair of vehicles slowly entered the first gate, and stopped at the second.

            “Overlord, Hammer. Why are there two gates at the entrance of firebase seven-three-seven? Over,” called the soldier over the radio.

            “Hammer, Overlord, ready for ID, maintain radio silence, clear.”

            “ID? What does that mean?” yelled down Richard.

            His answer came in the form of a loud computerized voice echoing throughout the entire base. Their cover was blown. The sounds of soldiers preparing for combat were audible in every direction, even below the Faction crew.

            “Plan B, everyone get in position! Team two, break the door!” screamed Richard.

The humvees broke through the gate, allowing the second team’s humvee take most of the impact. It would not be needed much longer. The pair drove into the center of the complex. Team two vacated their humvee at the entrance to the underground section of the base. The Faction members took cover behind the first humvee while the soldier pulled out Richard's gas grenades.

            “Now!” yelled Richard.

            The second humvee detonated, completely blocking off the underground section of the base. The first, its job as cover now complete, sped out of the base to one of the nearby hills, ready for step two of the plan. Richard led the first team toward the command structure, while the second team threw Richard’s grenades through the gaps in their makeshift wall. They abandoned the soldiers underground to their fate and ran to the main barracks.

            There was surprisingly little resistance to the attack; most of the soldiers had been underground or in the armored barracks after the repeated shellings by Faction forces. The only troops Richard and his team saw in the base were those defending their target. As the entrance of the command tent came into view, three of Richard’s men suddenly fell to the ground.

            “Sniper!” screamed the soldier, dropping to the ground.

            Richard and Brian followed in suit, but the other two stood still, too terrified to move. Through the chaos Richard remained calculating. He was watching every gruesome detail, knowing that he would only survive if he remained stone cold. The sniper fired another silent shot, injuring one of the two left standing. Richard saw exactly what direction the shot had come from and stood himself. Pointing his weapon to where he knew his foe had to be, he fired until he heard the metallic ping of a bullet striking his foe's helmet. He continued to fire until he knew the sniper had been exterminated, then turned away.

            “Let’s finish this,” he whispered to the soldier, who sat shocked by the field agent’s cold glare.

            Brian followed his commander toward the tent as the soldier pulled this injured comrade away from the action. There was one man in the tent with a weapon; all the others were unarmed typists or officers. The guard lifted his weapon, but hesitated when Richard dropped his rifle to the ground. Brian ran into the tent expecting a combat, startling the guard. Brian fell to two weapons: the soldier’s rifle, and Senator Jeremy Glass' advice.

             "Expect death at every corner, kid," the suited man had said, "because there's a gunman in every tent." 

             Richard dispatched the guard, then turned to the officers. The men in the tent were already standing, hands locked tight behind their heads. Richard reloaded his revolver and turned to his audience. The one in the middle was obviously their leader. His poise gave away his rank far more definitively than the markings on his uniform. His slicked hair, blocky shoulders and unwillingness to take a submissive stance would be his end. Richard looked the Lieutenant Colonel in his shining blue eyes, then executed his first prisoner. Richard had loved the feeling of executing mob bosses, but there was something about this kind of war that felt even better. He was a force of nature, and not even honor would change his path.

Chapter 2-5: Pawn's Trial - Wisdom to be Twisted

Sharon- United Human Faction- Day 12

            The war effort was going better than it had on day one. Paul seemed in a better mood, although Julian was still rarely seen. Sharon spent her off hours wandering the wharf, admiring the scenery. She watched the tide ebb out, and worked as it swelled toward the shore. She spoke with the fisherman of the bay, learning about the lives of those she had so long ignored, but was now forced to lead.

            On the twelfth day of the war, she met a man who introduced himself only as “captain,” a name with new meaning those days. He was a classical sailor, with a large, grey beard and little company. She had noticed him sitting by the training docks before, but he had never taken notice of her.

            “War is fleeting thing, dearie,” he had told her when she passed by him.

            She turned back and asked him what he meant by that. He told her, “I’ve seen wars before, and this isn’t the worst of them. In all my life, I’ve never seen a war where the people were so comfortable. This’ll end, and everything’ll be the same afterward.”

            He turned his back on her, and she slowly wandered into the distance. Sharon took the old captain's words to heart on that day, and each day afterward. She eventually mustered up the confidence to tell Paul about the man, although she never truly understood what he had meant.

Chapter 2-4: Pawn's Trial - The King with the Crooked Smile

Richard- United Human Faction- Day 5

            There was no sound in Richard’s third day in the field, at least none he could recognize any more. Hours upon hours of combat had left him dulled and unready for command was doing. The other men around him, the civilian soldiers, yelled out commands and others followed. Richard, however said and heard nothing, only took aim and fired at those unlucky souls who remained loyal to the Union.

            As the days grew shorter, so did Richard’s patience. They were making no progress toward the East, and by the tenth day of fighting, many were beginning to lose hope in the cause. The leadership, within both the Faction Network and the volunteer army, kept the men in the field, even when they felt they were fighting for a dying cause.

            The trained soldiers on the other side felt the same way, though. The Faction never stopped pushing, truly believing in the cause they fought for. There was the sense of a goal, a shining light at the end of the tunnel, which wasn’t visible the US lines. Richard was one of those who really saw that light in its full glory.

            Returning to the offices, Richard requested a large number of materials. Every one was explosive. Carlos provided the goods. The one substance he paid no notice to was the most dangerous one. Richard built five of his specialized grenades and packed them into his humvee. He was done waiting for action to be taken. He went straight to Carlos again, requesting authority to lead an assault on the local base. The request was immediately made into an official order. Richard would have his knife. He would drive it into the heart of the enemy force. And they would know his name.

Chapter 2-3: Pawn's Trial - There's a Method to His Madness

Jeremy- United States Senate- Day 5

            There was no way Carlos would be seen on the front lines. He was a desk worker, even with his past in Ecuador. The Faction needed logistics, and that’s what he did best. The only problem was that someone had decided the best place for the command and control was also the best place for the prisons. The prisons held Jeremy Glass.

            The former US Senator was rather enjoying his new housing, cracking jokes at the least appropriate times, and spreading the propaganda of the Faction, albeit with his own brand of sarcasm. Half the Faction believed he was insane, and half found him irritating, but no amount of complaints or threats could shut him up.

            His cell was made in the converted offices that held portions of the UHF server and Carlos’ cubicle. He had all the amenities of an office worker, including the pleasures of spinning chair. He was like a child in a playground, toying with everything the way it wasn’t intended to be toyed with and breaking anything he couldn’t play with.

            Brian’s mind was one of those things he couldn’t play with. Brian was one of those few volunteers who was truly devoted to the cause. He didn’t just want the United Sates changed; he wanted the Faction in control. This was an opinion Jeremy wasn’t willing to let sit. For three days he had pushed and pushed in an attempt to break the man, and on the tenth day he succeeded. Brian went into the field, and never came back. Jeremy would feel the sting of guilt, but only until he found a new individual to toy with.

Chapter 2-2: Pawn's Trial - Future Sins

Sharon- United Human Faction- Day 5

            “What do you think they’ll do to us when this is over?” Paul asked absent-mindedly, twirling a pen around his fingers.

            “When what is over?” replied Sharon, immersed in her managerial duties.

            “All of it. The war, the Faction, everything,” Paul explained, less than satisfactorily.

            “Are we assuming failure?” she asked, looking over her shoulder with a sly grin on her face.

            “According to Julian, our success would be the Faction’s failure. 'We will be crushed by the might of the outside world, making way for something better,' he says.”

            “I don’t share that sentiment,” said Sharon, the smile disappearing from her face. “I believe what I say, and I will until the day I die; maybe even after. This is not a war made in the name of killing our enemies; this is a war for our future. I thought you and Karen felt that way, too.”

            “I don’t really know what Karen thought near the end,” said Paul, morosely toying with the charred ring on is hand. “She was changing, and I couldn’t keep up.”

            “Its not your-“

            “Don’t toy with me, Sharon. Just answer the question,” Paul practically screamed, shaken from his dreamlike state.

            “I think you’ll see her soon enough, Paul.”

            Her old friend left the room then, and she wondered just what had happened to Karen before she left him. It was more important to focus on his fate than his fiance's now, though. His strange mood swings and varying dedication to the cause were worrisome. Almost worrisome enough for her to call Julian again. Almost…

Chapter 2-1: Pawn's Trial - Inner Demon

John- United Human Faction- Day 5

            They were soldiers now, fighting on the front lines with nothing between them and their opposition.  It was an addictive feeling, more so even than the raids against criminals they had performed in the past. There was nothing like standing toe to toe with a foe just as capable of killing John as he was of killing them. There was no sneaking through alleyways here; the enemy was tangible and formidable. The creature which had grown in John’s heart since his service in Korea was enjoying itself, as was Richard. Carlos had been too busy communicating with the leadership to see any fighting. While the strong-willed leader wished he could do his share, a part of John wished for the opposite.

            “The Front,” as it was called, was a wasteland to John’s eyes. He had always lived in the more prosperous regions of the desert where there was something living in every direction, but here the earth already bore scars of combat. There were places in the sand where he could see only a black stain; a patch of nothingness. It was nothing compared to what the Koreans had done, but it was bad enough. It brought out something in every man on the field, as if the darkness fed on civilized natures of the men.

           John had recognized the change before, but he couldn’t feel it until then. The Faction was the people’s army. It was what he had dreamt for years. It was what he had dreaded for years. These people understood. They were fighting for their families and friends, for a bright future.

            For now, though, he did not fight for the catalyst of change. John fought as an animal. John fought because he could.

Chapter 1-7: Opening Moves - The Will to Fight

John- United Human Faction-Day 2

            “Thank God someone did the right job,” muttered Carlos.

            “Where’s the rest of our team?” asked John, ignoring the Unit Leader’s moody comment.

            “They failed. Senator Wilmsley escaped to a local air base and is already flying to DC. There’s no way of knowing where they are until they get out of the desert or turn on their radios. Paul says the first day was a complete failure, and you saw how desperate Julian is. Once we hand the hostage over to, what was it, Team CA-2, I don’t know what we’re supposed to do with ourselves.”

            “We should head out to the front, lead the civilian militias,” offered Richard.

            “I’ve had my fair share of war for now. I’ll be getting some rest if you don’t mind,” said John, walking out of the room.

            John knew he was lying, though. He hadn’t had near his share. He was simply scared by his own instinct to lead the charge. In the Second Korean War, John had seen more bloodshed, and in a more horrible manner, than anyone he knew. He had grown to see it as the norm. Being controlled, held back by protocol and discipline, wore his patience thin. John longed to her the booming sound of artillery shells striking the ground, he wanted to feel the impact of a rifle on his shoulder, he wanted his enemy to show the fear which never pushed as far as John's eyes. He longed to become so numb, he could no longer comprehend place or time. He wanted to let the animal take over, to return to the Pacific where there were no moral obligations, but there was also resistance in his soul. This creature growing in his heart would take over, there was no doubt, but he wanted control for as long as he could keep it.

Chapter 1-6: Opening Moves - The Hero's Mask

Julian- United Human Faction-Day 2

            Thomas was not what they had needed. He should have been removed the day after Paul introduced him to the rest of the group. A man with charisma was far more important than one with “connections.” The imbecile was a failed “professional blogger,” an insignificant, incompetent, and unmotivated waste. Julian was sick of dealing with those who were not truly committed to the cause. He almost wanted out altogether.

            He finished packing up his gear, and finally removed his mask. As important a tool as the mask was, it was not something to be worn for long periods of time. It took something away from it's wearer. He needed to find another solution to the problem of anonymity. Julian looked down at his phone for the first time in hours. There were several missed calls from Sharon. Having not even realized his phone had rung, he dialed her number. The phone rang again and again for several minutes until he gave upon reaching her. He could only hope she wasn’t trying to avenge his ignorance.

             That mask did something to him, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

Chapter 1-5: Opening Moves - Declaration of War

Carlos- United Human Faction- Day 2

            “Carlos, you need sleep just as much as I do. Take a break, there’s half a country to hold up the fort,” said Paul over his computer terminal.

            “I haven’t had either of my teams report in yet. I know John was at least partly successful, but the other seven are unaccounted for,” said Carlos, pacing.

            The previous day, while it had served its purpose, was a failure in the aging immigrant’s eyes. When Paul had offered him help receiving citizenship, Carlos expected to escape the drugs and poverty of his home nation. The country he entered seemed just as dysfunctional. He wanted America to be made great for his children, and it wasn’t going to happen while he was asleep.

            Carlos turned on the other three computers in the room, and checked the Faction network. There, the small blips of red that had formerly shown the locations of field agents across the country had grown and joined to form a wall of red, stretching across the entire Western half of the nation. However, Colorado was blatantly exempt from Faction influence. Even Carlos knew this was the area had been promised by Thomas and his men. Why had everything gone so wrong? He checked the newsfeed, and saw no new reports from Julian. This worried him. There should have been some sort of communication from the leader of the entire movement.

            What if Julian wasn’t the leader he had hoped for? What if the Faction itself was set for failure? He refused to allow questions to flood his mind, no matter how important they seemed. Carlos wasn’t without doubts, but his doubts related more to his team than to his leaders.

            He could hear John closing the door of his jeep outside. As if on a cue, his computer loaded a new page. His screen was filled by the brilliant white mask of the Faction’s leader. The San Francisco skyline provided an appearance of organization, as erratic as Julian’s actions were.

            “This is a message to the whole of the United States,” Julian began as John and Richard brought in their hostage. “For five years, we have suffered from the indifference of a corrupt and incompetent government. The dollar is at its lowest value in history, the unemployment rate has tripled since the end of the war, and there has been no aid to those states damaged by the failed Korean expansion.

            “We, the United Human Faction, stand against the state. We vow to create a new system of government, based not on religion or money, but on the reality that this nation has fallen prey to the mistakes of the past. We do not need reform. We do not need regulation. We need revolution. Stand with me and join the United Human Faction. Create a new America, united not just by name, but by a common goal of growth for the future. America will be the most powerful country in the world again, but not under its current leaders. Overthrow the feudal lords of the United States. Your militias will be invaluable in the coming storm. Join us, and you will be rewarded.”

            The video ended, the computer returned to its complacent state. The virus had done its job. Every website in the world had transmitted that message, and the Faction’s borders were expanding by the minute. There was at least one success mixed in with the failures of the past day.

Chapter 1-4: Opening Moves - In Another Life

John- United Human Faction- Night 1

            The highways of Nevada were always desolate, but not like this night. There was a cry from the sands that something was wrong. The agents’ stealth served no purpose anymore. They were not terrorists or criminals, as they had feared. They were warriors, heroes in the eyes of a new order. Again, Richard’s readiness was disturbing to his partner. The light haired man sleeping in the passenger seat was like nothing John had seen before. Even the Senator’s arguments hadn’t changed his cruelly indifferent expression.

            John had always thought of himself as the ordinary man. He had ordinary schooling, ordinary pay, and ordinary acquaintances. For years he had wanted to be someone more, someone extraordinary. But on the 92 North, with a riot behind him and a war ahead, he wished he had stayed ordinary. He wasn’t cut out for revolution; he was cut out for the desk at his motel. Given the choice, he would have never joined the Faction, or the Army, for that matter. This was Richard’s job, and he didn’t belong anywhere near it.

            The Senator had spoken for hours, and very little made sense to John. One thing that rang true, though, was the notion of escape. Jeremy had spoken of escaping from the ties binding every official after his election, but John had wanted an escape long before he had taken on his final role. He had wanted an escape from monotony, then an escape from the Army, later an escape from society. His latest wish was for an escape from the Faction. He would never want anything more.

Chapter 1-3: Opening Moves - Out of Sight

Sharon- United Human Faction- Night 1

            Sharon was never interested in hiding away. She wasn’t the kind of leader who sat back and watched what others did; she was a warrior, and a good one. Even when there was no fighting to be done, she remained on the front lines. This night, the front line was San Francisco, the hub of all Faction activity.

            Her home was not the site of a battle the way Vegas had been only a few hours before, but the people of this city had seen little aid since the Second Korean War. They were ready for change. Already, barricades were being set up on every road in the Bay Area, and Alcatraz had become home to every makeshift missile launcher or cannon it could hold. Sharon watched the scattered boats of her volunteer Navy prepare to defend the Golden Gate. She knew there would never be an attack on this city, but the formalities couldn’t hurt. This was to be the home of the Revolution. It was her home.

            Paul sat down next to her on the balcony and removed his glove. His job was the worst of all the founders’. As the Northern Regional Commander, he oversaw everything from Monterey to the Canadian border. That included New York and Las Vegas, where the more of the Faction was lost than the rest of country combined. After six hours of nonstop reports, he needed a moment to catch his breath.

            “Any news,” Sharon asked.

            “Good or bad?” Paul replied, examining the scars running up his arm.

            “Let’s take the good first.”

            “We won most of the West coast, especially the regions hit by Korea two years ago. The East Coast is still under the impression that anyone opposing the government is a terrorist, so we’ve had no luck past Bismarck, North Dakota.”

            “Even New York?”

            “Especially New York. Our borders are,” Paul continued in a monotone, pulling out a map, “Canadian Border, Bismarck, Rapid City, Casper, Blanding, Clovis, Snyder, San Angelo, Mexican Border. The East Coast sees us as terrorists after the incident in Times Square.”

            “That’s not nearly as much as Thomas promised us. We didn’t even get Colorado!”

            “On top of that, only forty senators were captured. Teams are reporting thirty-seven dead and twenty-three escaped. Nothing’s gone according to plan. I need sleep.”

            “Where’s Julian?”

            “Hell if I know. He disappeared a few hours ago. Try his private cell, that’s how I usually reach him.”

            Paul stood and put his glove back on. Sharon waited several minutes, and left for the wharf. When she arrived, everything seemed normal to her. There was no sign of the Faction or the Union, no guns, no barricades. She knew what she was fighting for. There was no regret in her heart. This was good, and no matter how wrong things seemed to go, everything would end well for them, and for their families.

            She pulled out her phone and called Julian. It rang once, twice, three times. Again she called, and after three more rings, there was no answer. And again. And again. On her fifth call, a mechanical voice requested her name and number after only two cries. What she regretted were not her choices, but his.

Chapter 1-2: Opening Moves - The Battle of Las Vegas

Richard- United Human Faction- Night 1

            Richard walked out of the bar to see riots breaking out on the strip. He quietly made his way to the Jeep to find John talking on his phone. The veteran looked his partner in the eyes, making it obvious he was not to be disturbed. Richard took the hint and began climbing up a ladder on the side of a nearby building. From the roof, he could see the first battle of the war beginning. Anyone with something as deadly as a shoe was in the street, ready to fight. On every side were rioters, led by unmistakably marked Faction members. It would have looked like complete chaos to the untrained eye, but Richard could see the methods of his peers. There was a set of stars and stripes in the middle of the street, and an army of revolutionaries on every side. The Faction would win this skirmish, as a bulldozer fueled by the rage of the heartbroken and the lost.

            “Is this what we signed up for?” asked John, climbing up behind him.

            “It’s the start of something new,” replied Richard.

            “Is that what the pamphlet said?”

            John knew Richard was not the laughing type, and didn’t wait for a response.

            “Carlos has a base set up. We need to meet him before sunrise.”

            As the pair left the city, the Battle of Las Vegas was nearing its conclusion. By the morning, there would not be a single Loyalist left on the strip. Every television and computer would be linked to Faction networks, the feather would mark every building, and every man, woman, and child would lose immunity as a civilian at a time of war.

            John kept an eye on their captive as they drove closer to their destination. The desert night was oppressively dark, with no moon to guide them. Richard, having grown up in the city, was unnerved for the first time since John had met him. John was unnerved as well. The call to Carlos hadn’t seemed normal. Something was wrong. There was no hiding it.

            The Senator started to wake up in the back seat. He quickly acquainted himself to his new situation, and brushed off his coat with his hands. Richard pulled out his weapon, but the politician was not willing to give in to his circumstances.

            “You’re not going to stop me from talking,” he said, smugly. Facing John, he continued, “Your friend here doesn’t seem to understand that a hostage needs to be alive to be useful. Tell him to put away the gun, and I can tell you what you need to know about our little… predicament.”

            Honestly curious, John told Richard to comply. The revolver hesitantly returned to its holster.

            “Now that we’re more comfortable, my name is Senator Jeremy Glass,” the now-less-then prisoner began, “and you are the members of an organization that has some use for me. Since I’m going to find out later anyways, could you please tell me who exactly I am held captive by?”

            Richard glanced worriedly at John, who gave an honest answer after only a second of consideration.

            “Good, I’m glad you’re going to be civilized about this. Now, your leaders are, no doubt, more than a little peeved that they have to spend extra money for gasoline, the war efforts-“

            “Efforts?” Richard interrupted.

            “You don’t honestly think that Pakistan is our only enemy, do you? More to the point, someone got angry and decided to make a secret society, no? But, you see, he, she, or it did not realize that this would not be the only organization vying for power in the wake of the destruction of the United States. I am not just a Senator. I am a revolutionary, just like you, and I have my own agenda once this conflict ends.”

Chapter 1-1: Opening Moves - End of an Era

John- United Human Faction- Day 1

            John had been waiting for this day since he had joined three years before. The United Human Faction had claimed again and again that they would create a new America, and he bought in again and again. He had dismantled mobs, gangs, and even corporations, but nothing compared to this. Richard didn’t truly understand, the fanatics never really do. That day would be the start of something he had been preparing for since he had returned from his service in Vietnam. He pulled out his pistol, and readied himself for the start of his new life.

            “Are you ready for this?” John asked his partner as he checked his magazine. He chuckled and said, “Never thought I’d be breaking into my own motel.”

            Richard wasn’t laughing. The young marksman was too ready, and it disturbed John. The smile left his face as he wedged his US identification into the bolt. He knew his own hotel's safety violations.

            “I kick in three,” he whispered.

            The Senator on the other side stood and faced the door, folding his hands behind his back in preparation for the inevitable. With a sickening crack, the door caved in. A yell and a punch started the Second American Revolution. 12:00 noon, Western Standard time, just as planned.

            “I wasn’t struggling, you idiots,” said the Senator as he slowly got up off the floor.

            “You stay down!” screamed Richard, drawing his revolver.

            “Watch it,” said John, then looking down at their victim, “You don’t seem too surprised to see us.”

            “How could I? Your boss has been sending me death threats for five years now. I knew this day was coming. The real question is, did you?” the Senator responded.

            “Five years? Who’s the one you’ve been in contact with?”

            “Charlie. That is his name, whatever he may tell you.”

            “Charlie of the United Human Faction has been contacting you?” Richard asked, not understanding what he had just heard.

            The Senator was taken aback, but only for a second. Regaining his composure, he said, “This has all been a big misunderstanding. You're not the angry gangsters who want my life.”

            “You’re right on the last part,” said John, tying his hostage up. “Richard, can I speak with you?”

            The pair walked down to their Jeep, not sure what they had just heard. John pulled out his phone, hoping he could find a magical connection in the middle of the Arizona desert, but put it away after only a few seconds. Carlos would know what was going on, if only he could get cell reception.

            Richard shook his head and asked, “That was our guy, right?”

            “I don’t know,” his partner mumbled, walking back toward the room.

            The two knocked the Senator unconscious and loaded him into the vehicle. They headed straight toward Vegas, someplace so obvious, it would never be searched. When they arrived, it was almost dark, and the strip was lighting up.

            “I need something to eat. What about you?” John asked his partner.

            After taking precautions to hide their hostage under some jackets and ensuring his restful silence, they stopped at the smallest sport bar they could find. After a few hours of peace, a man wearing a shirt marked by the "Faction feather" ran through the door and ordered someone to turn on the news. Richard half smiled and hid his face in his drink.

            The pale, sweaty newscaster reported on what the two had done, along with hundreds of others across the country. The Faction was ready for its true purpose. They weren’t anonymous vigilantes anymore. Now, they were the people’s army. They would wipe away the corruption of the US government and replace it with a true nation of the people. Or so John hoped.

            He walked out of the bar, head held high, nodding to his now timid ally. The Faction messenger nodded to his fellow countrymen, and the bartender muted the televisions. Richard leapt onto his table.

            “People of Las Vegas, are you ready to take what you deserve?” he screamed.

            The unanimous answer was YES.

            “Are you done paying for someone else’s mansion?”

            “YES!”

            “Are you fed up with the government doing NOTHING?”

            “YES!”

            “Will you fight for what’s rightfully yours?”

            “YES!”

            “Then you’d better be ready for a storm,” whispered John as he dialed Carlos’ number outside. He could see the familiar Faction feather being spray painted on the windows of all the more rowdy structures. Their network was larger than he had thought. The five hundred members he knew of weren’t the only Faction agents preparing for today.

            “This is Motel-,” the receptionist was quickly cut off.

            “Give me room one-one-three,” demanded John, in no mood for delays.

            “Who is it?” asked Carlos, in a worse mood than his friend.

            “It’s John. We have the target, but he seemed to be expecting someone to come after him.” He paused. “Is there anyone named `Charlie' in the upper levels of administration?”

            “Not that I know of. Just bring him to me. It looks like the 92 is still open. Take it to 6^th street in Wells. The motel is hard to miss. Get the job done. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now.”

            Carlos hung up, and John knew something had gone terribly wrong. Richard walked out of the bar, and they both jumped back into the Jeep. Their job had begun.