Chapter 7-1: Neglected Motion - The Doubtful Killer

Paul- United Human Faction- Night 67

            Paul walked the forest paths alone, not trusting the soldiers assigned to him by the General. These men were either incompetent or brutish, and Paul had no use for either trait. The leader of the platoon, a former Agent who called himself Cain, was the only man in the group who could be trusted, but given the man’s track record before the revolution, Paul still wouldn’t put his life in the hands of the former gangster.

            “What are we dealing with out here, sir?” Cain had asked as they left the main force.

            “Ghosts, according to Julian. I’d say it’s a group of deserters. Probably disillusioned fanatics, definitely dangerous. We’ll have to keep watch at all times,” Paul replied.

            "Any better theories? We have records of all desertions."

            "I know what's going on here, but I can't tell you. That's the one and only truth. Can you live with that?"

            "I sure as hell hope so. I wouldn't want to die out here because some rich little college boy didn't want anybody to know his dirty secrets. You know, Paul, I hear more around here than the generals, and I know that something's been going on between you and Masky. You'd better not be trying to get back on his good side."

            Paul stopped, shocked by the man's confidence. None in San Francisco would have spoken to him so -it took a moment to recognize the word- fairly. This "Cain" was more the leader of the revolution than Paul had ever been.

            "I don't think there's any reason for me to be kissing his ass. For all you know, I could have been the one wearing that costume back on the coast."

            Cain chuckled.

            “Right. I don’t like the thought of killing my own men, though. I know I caused problems for my commander before the war, but that doesn’t change my allegiance. I’m here to keep my boys alive, not to prop up some superhero reject, hear me?”

            Cain hefted his SAW and left before Paul could respond. The Agent was a man bred up on loyalty and respect, not idealism. In this fact, Julian saw a man who couldn’t be trusted to finish a job. Cain saw himself as a man who respected oaths.

            The crash of gunfire pulled Paul out of his trance and into the reality of the moment. The darkness was torn apart by the muzzle flashes of both the Faction’s weaponry and that of an unknown force in the woods. Paul fought back a smile as he donned his dark mask. In his black and grey outfit, Paul could disappear without a trace. Cain would live up to his name, and the morning would reveal the identities of his foes, regardless of prior obfuscation.

            Unfortunately, by the time the Faction reached Thomas, Paul would have already broken his neck. Not for the revolution, Paul cared little about the fate of the war, but for Karen. Blood for blood. It would all be fair. It would all be right.

Chapter 6-8: Unforseen Developments - Recurring Thoughts

Sharon- United Human Faction- Day 66

            The peaceful Hawaiian shore contrasted sharply to the burning husks of former Faction and Chinese naval vessels. Countless beached sailboats dotted the coastline, their torn sheets following the dictates of the wind. Metal and concrete jutted out from the sands, remnants of great Chinese ships and prisons left decimated by Anning’s carrier and the improvised explosives of the escaped civilians. Sharon surveyed the damage as a foot soldier returning from the front line. The fight for the Big Island was far reaching, with Chinese artillery regularly striking Haleakala, where Faction snipers peppered enemy speedboats and those foot soldiers foolish enough to walk the northern coast of the island. She frequented the sniper nests, often looking through the scope of a rifle, but never pulling the trigger. She had learned the bitterness of violence in the initial surge, and she felt no craving for a second taste.

            The murder she had committed in the prison camp had, after several days, swayed her to Paul’s side. In her memory, without the sweat and adrenaline of combat, the event was far more disturbing. Each night, she imagined herself in the dark halls of the prison camp, pistol at her side. Her face was cold, stiff, inhuman, and her steps fell slower than those of her comrades. Calmly, she would roll back her shoulders and turn the corner to find a pair of men she already knew would not survive the night. During the day, she liked to believe she had tried to save the prisoner and spare her opponent. She liked to believe that she could have shown mercy, that some part of her had fought the urge to kill the Chinese soldier. But her dreams always played on her darker suspicions. She walked around the corner, immediately raising her weapon. She screamed at the soldier as she walked forward, some nights warning him, others egging him on, until he panicked. The shocked soldier stared down at the body on the ground and at his bloodstained hands. The dream Sharon would take no notice of his horror, mercilessly firing a bullet through his skull.

            Unsettling as the dreams were, Sharon found herself gathering tactical information from the memory. Most importantly, she noticed that the “Chinese” soldiers they fought were, in reality, members of several Japanese fleets pledged to China after the Second Korean War. There was no loyalty tying these men to the goals of the Chinese, and, with motivation, they would cross the Pacific and turn on the nation that had so forcefully demanded their loyalty

Chapter 6-7: Unforseen Developments - Invisible Enemy

Paul- United Human Faction- Night 64

            The trees of Pike Forest were likely the safest the soldiers of the Faction’s Main Offensive Army would see for months, yet they seemed to have the most horrific effect of any Paul had led them through. The trees’ wood seemed darker at night than in the day, even in the light of their solar flashlights. The dirt seemed too stiff underfoot in places. The animals were quieter than they had any right to be. Men cowered around campfires rather than in the clinical safety of their Kevlar tents, and ghost stories ran rampant through the barracks. Stories spread of men, reported as deserters, who had been pulled away by shadows in the night, by invisible men with violent intentions.

            “Some of my soldiers are sayin’ we ran over an Indian burial ground, or something like that,” General Klein of New Mexico complained to julian, Masked as always. “I’m sick of having our progress slowed to a crawl because a couple assholes from the Washington line decided to slip away in the forest.”

            “It says here that twelve men from Washington disappeared alongside over forty six of your men. Damn, General, that’s more than a full platoon, how did you manage to keep moving with those kind of casualties?”

            “They aren’t casualties, they’re desertions!” Klein screamed.

            “You’re troops claim otherwise,” The Masked Man stated. “I hear all over the camps that your boys got snatched by ghosts.”

            Paul looked up from his notes, not sure if Julian honestly believed in the foot soldiers’ story, or if he was simply mocking the General. Klein jumped to the second conclusion.

            “You might think you’re the best man in this army, but that gives you no right to talk down to those of us who have given up everything for your cause!“

            “I’m not talking down to you, I’m voicing honest concern for my troops,” stated the Masked Man in a tone not conveying concern for the lives of his troops.

            “About ghosts?”

            “Yes, General. Are you not concerned?”

            Klein was speechless.

            “You are aware that two of our agents went missing in the same area where you lost your men, correct?” he continued, turning back toward Paul. “Tell the general what happened last time an agent tried to desert.”

            Paul hesitated.

            "I'd rather not, if you don't mind."

            Julian continued to stare expectantly, but a quick shake of Paul's head proved his unwillingness.

            "Suffice to say, his partner brought him back, shall we say, incomplete, then recruited a suitable replacement, right Paul?"

            "That's the clean version," Paul said, shuddering.

            “And these disappeared men aren’t just any agents. These are trusted men. Carlos and Thomas were their names. They were both yours, too, weren’t they Paul?” the leader of the revolution mocked.

            “So what do you want me to do about it? Go hunting through the woods for fifty corpses? We’ll be able to take Washington before we’d be able to find them. I say we push forward. No more security stops. No more head counts. I’d rather lose a division in rushed combat than another unit in these woods,” Klein replied, obviously upset.

            “So you would call these fifty men acceptable losses?” Julian asked.

            “In these circumstances, they have to be.”

            “Paul, take fifty of Klein’s men and sweep the forest for ghosts,” the Masked Man ordered, whispering as he left the command tent. “Clean up your mess. I don’t want to see that freak alive again.”

Chapter 6-6: Unforseen Developments - Jailbirds

John- United Human Faction- Day 64

            “Damn, John. This sure feels familiar to me,” muttered Jeremy, leaning against the bars of their cell.

            “How do you plan on getting out this time? There’s no war here, and no sympathetic guard either,” John asked for the hundredth time. “And don’t say God’ll save you because of your name. I think you’ve run out of favors at this point.”

            “We could dig our way out. They give us spoons with every meal.”

            “If you want to spend hours pounding on the concrete with a spoon, be my guest.”

            John chuckled. His wife had always told him the Faction would land him in a jail cell. For the first time in their short marriage, he was willing to admit she was been right. There was no escape from this prison, and even if they managed to cross the outer wall, there were miles between them and their nation. They would freeze above the Northern border, no matter the circumstances.

            “You look like you have an idea,” John stated, slightly afraid.

            Jeremy smiled and nodded.

            “Don’t do anything, it’ll just piss them off,” John moaned.

            “Jailer! Let me go,” Jeremy yelled down the hall. “I’m a member of the United States Senate. Do you want a war on your hands? I demand to be released to the US embassy!”

            “There hasn’t been a US embassy for two months. Back away from the bars.” the jailer called back.

            “It was worth a try wasn’t it?”

            “No. Get back in your cell.”

            Jeremy slowly set himself back onto the bottom bunk.

Chapter 6-5: Unforseen Developments - Flash of Consciousness

Peter– Hawaiian Prisoner- Day 63

            Shots rang out from across the street where Peter lay, feigning death. He felt blood leak from the gash in his arm every time his heart pulsed, but he still felt the need to maintain consciousness long enough to escape. He watched through squinting eyes as his allies, all escapees from the Chinese concentration camp, rushed toward the enemy line. He slowly rose to his feet and picked up his stolen rifle. They would break the Chinese alongside the Faction, no matter which side they would have supported on the mainland.

Chapter 6-4: Unforseen Developments - A Victor's Trauma

Sharon– United Human Faction- Day 63

            Two weeks of fighting had barely scratched the Chinese Navy. The Faction’s first assault had allowed them to capture the smaller half of the islands, but since then guerilla attacks had done little to take the Eastern half of Maui. The other islands were impenetrable.

            Sharon had remained in Lahaina, far from the brutal combat. She had had her share of killing, maybe more. A quick check of the Chinese guard’s weapon had revealed an empty magazine. Even in avenging a civilian death, the idea of killing a technically unarmed man weighed heavily on her. She had known she would need to dirty her hands, but she was unprepared for the repercussions of an act of violence. She kept the man’s dog tags not as trophies, but as reminders of the pain.

            The fires in the ocean were beginning to dissipate. Sharon had watched the flames jump from wreckage to wreckage between meetings with her commanders, but this was the first day she could see them begin to die down. It had an impact on her, a sort of rekindling of her revolutionary spirit. She knew the cost of war, but she held tight to the belief that it would bring about change. Like the Admiral had said on the docks, the war wouldn’t change anything if it didn’t impact everyone.

            The makeshift command center was empty on the second day of January. Sharon had to assume the worst, rushing back to her jeep to check on the battlefield. From the peak of Puu Kukui, she could watch the progress of the Faction’s ground forces. She expected to pull up her telescope and view the demise of the Faction’s last ground forces, but her reality was finally better than the fantasy. Shells rained down on the Chinese line as a force of civilians pushed them toward the Faction line. It was a massacre. It was victory.

            She turned on her radio to listen in on the combat. The visceral chatter made her heart pound. They might be able to win Hawaii.

Chapter 6-3: Unforseen Developments - Falcon

Richard- United Human Faction- Day 62

            Richard was finally in control. Master of the entire Southern half of what had been the United States only months before, he fought a losing battle. He wasn’t willing to die with a whimper, though. His forces would kill more than their share before the war ended, and he would watch from barely behind the front lines. From the town of Reserve, he directed the might of the White Sands military machine. Roadblocks built between minefields, guerilla teams with explosives, and even a number of suicide attacks were wearing the main Union line thin. Richard’s forces were even able to cripple the once-dominant Air Force in the state.  Everything was moving forward according to plan, except for the personalities of his Generals.

            Arya Gerrard, the hero who had risen through the Faction ranks to replace the fallen General of the White Sands Defensive Line, opposed Richard’s harsh methods. The woman was an enemy, but she was also an asset. She kept her troops fighting, and they would turn to partition the moment Richard made a stand against her.

            So he waited.

            Ten days after a successful assault on the US 15^th Main Assault Line, a counterattack was reported. A massive convoy would cut through the mountains on a single two-lane road. Richard met Arya at the site of the first roadblock. She recognized his presence with a nod before returning to her duties.

            “General, come over here,” he yelled, beckoning her. “How do we know they’ll fall for this kind of a trap? We’ve set it before. How do we know they haven’t already adapted their strategy?”

            “Sir, they never had a chance to examine the site. For all they know the convoy was destroyed by mortar fire.”

            “I’m not sure we’re thinking of the same incident. Walk me through the explosives placement,” he growled glancing toward the shells on the side of the road.

            She walked him toward the shells lining the side of the road. “These shells are designed to detonate in one direction only. We salvaged the design from a helicopter that crashed in Texas before we lost the front line. Since we don’t have te shell designs of the Union, it only takes a spark to set them off, so we’re burying them in these ditches. Our troops will hide in the brush, and when they trigger a percussion cap, the entire explosion will be directed at the enemy convoy. From then on, we’ll just be mopping up with small arms.”

            “Excellent,” Richard yelled, jumping over the line of explosives and off the road. “The plan seems flawless, General. Thank you for your loyal service.”

            Arya looked toward her superior officer in surprise. He had never supported her, nor she him. Richard didn’t seem the forgiving type, either. Something was wrong. He had something major to gain from the operation, or he had something to remove.

            Richard discreetly lit a match and tossed it onto the shells. Arya was too late in realizing Richard’s motives. In the crooked man’s mind, he had won a clean victory, even if it was at the cost of a solid platoon of his men. The fire engulfed the entire road, just as planned, killing every witness. One man, who had been planting explosives near the end of the line, was knocked unconscious by the blast, but the rest of the men working on Richard’s side of the explosion rushed to help.

            One soldier found a pin inscribed with an unmistakable Union Eagle inscribed onto it. It had belonged to a sleeper agent working on the ambush. The only possible owner of the pin was the man knocked unconscious by the shockwave, the man who would make a perfect scapegoat. It was Richard’s lucky day.

Chapter 6-2: Unforseen Developments - Roadblock

John- United Human Faction- Day 60

            Canada was the only place John and Jeremy could escape to. The entire United States was at war, but its northern cousin remained intact, secure. Too secure. John doubted they would be able to pass through the border safely, but Jeremy seemed certain. That’s why he was driving.

            As natural life became scarcer, so did signs of the war. The northwest corner of the formerly United States was abandoned by men seeking a better life. Whether it came through war or simply relocation was no matter to John or Jeremy. They only worried themselves with the problem of passing Faction patrols. They spent most of their time in silence.

            Their frozen neighbors would provide the quickest route into Washington DC. The army was more concerned about defending the line than the border, so they assumed sneaking in from the North would be simple. Their only problem would be survival in Canada. With no money and no identification, they were helpless. Jeremy promised he had a plan. John never believed him.

            Two months after the revolution had begun, John found himself trapped with the man he had sworn to oppose. They were running out of supplies. With barely enough gasoline to reach civilization, John turned toward Calgary. They hoped to find an odd job. If they made enough money for three days’ worth of food and gasoline, they would be able to reach the Union line.

            Jeremy woke as they reached the city limits.

            “How far are we from the border?” he asked, wiping his eyes.

            “Not sure. We’re far enough from the front lines to avoid the Canadian Army, though,” John answered.

            Jeremy pointed toward a large grouping of vehicles in the distance. “Who are they?”

            John hadn’t noticed the caravan, but its affiliation became strikingly obvious as they drove closer. The ramshackle squad was marked by the red and green of the Canadian Rangers.

            “They have no reason to suspect anything. I’m just gonna keep driving,” John stated firmly.

            “And if they do suspect something?”

            “I’ll drive faster.”

            Two of the Canadian jeeps stopped in the middle of the road, and their occupants exited with rifles in hand. A massive vehicle appeared from behind the rest, stopping in the right lane.

            “We can’t outrun bullets. We need to talk our way out,” John said, his hands shaking.

            “What about our accents?”

            John glanced back at Jeremy. “They won’t notice.”

            “Two men show up in an American-made vehicle with no identification and no accents. What does that make us look like?”

            John grimaced, and answered, “Exactly what we are.”

            Three of the Rangers moved into position around the car, and one walked up to knock on the window. John rolled it down halfway, but the Ranger was not satisfied. Placing his rifle’s barrel inches away from John’s face, he ordered John to roll the window down all the way.

            “License and registration,” the Ranger requested.

            “Since when does the military do Highway Patrol’s job?” John asked.

            “Have you been hiking for the past two months, Americans?”

            “What makes you think we’re American?” Jeremy asked.

            “We don’t call it `Highway Patrol’ here. Give me your passports, both of you.”

            “We don’t have any identification,” John admitted.

            Another Ranger walked to Jeremy’s door, rifle raised.

            “Out of the vehicle.”

            “What if we say no?” Jeremy sneered, to John’s horror.

            The Ranger flipped the safety off on his weapon. “Step out of the vehicle.”

            “You didn’t answer my question.”

            John accelerated and attempted turn away from the caravan, but the moment his wheels began to turn, so did those of two Canadian jeeps. The two Rangers were knocked away from the truck, but regained composure quickly enough to shoot out the Americans’ two back wheels. The slowed truck was an easy target for their Coyote AFV, which rammed into Jeremy’s door.

            John and his friend were pulled from the wreckage battered, but alive. They were handcuffed and loaded into the back of a jeep, headed to prison. They wouldn’t reach the Union on schedule.

Chapter 6-1: Unforseen Developments - Priorities

Julian- United Human Faction- Day 54

            Julian had been wrong to trust Jeremy. The Senator was the enemy, and John was a traitor, but Jeremy’s words were stuck in his head. They really were on the same side. They always had been. They both wanted the same change. Their only disagreement had been the methodology.

            Julian understood what Jeremy had accomplished, but it had taken days for the realization sink in. The senator was finally free, escaped from both John and Richard, each in a different way. Julian had seen the Senator pull off a myriad of tricks in his elections, but never expected to fall for one himself. Revenge was not essential, though. He had a mission, and he planned to complete it. He and Paul were leaving for Cheyenne, Wyoming within the hour.

            Julian finished packing his things and donned the Mask before meeting Paul in the lobby of Memorial Tower. Paul only nodded to him and began walking toward their transport. The route they were taking would cost them days, but security was a priority. The armies were safe in Richard’s hands for the time being.

            The Masked Man and his friend made their way through the parking lot, which served as a preparation zone for the movement. Everything from bazookas to computer servers were being loaded into those transport trucks not already packed with human cargo. Julian and Paul loaded themselves into an IFV near the middle of the convoy. They planned to remain out of sight until they rendezvoused with Richard, hiding in plain sight, as they always had.

            Paul seemed preoccupied the entire first day of travel. He spoke only when spoken to, and even then his statements were brief. He seemed distracted, looking out the thin windows for long periods of time, then shuffling through his pack as if he had forgotten something essential. It was obvious that the item was always present, though. The behavior was unnerving, but Julian decided to keep his mouth shut. It was better to move forward than to fixate on the present.