Foster Industries Residential Tower, Crosswook, November 5th, 2033 7:45 EST
“Thank you for coming so quickly, Commander.”
“Of course, Madam President,” replied the JAG officer on duty, Commander Andrea Vandergriff.
“What’s the protocol for these allegations? Against the former president I mean?”
“I can’t really speak to definite legalities, Ma’am, we’ll need to get the White House counsel involved. Assuming they’re true, I’d totally be guessing, but these are actions he took while in office, correct? Given his position at the time, the amnesty is a grey area. It’s not really meant to cover the ringleaders, so assuming he is a ringleader, the option of amnesty is not legally relevant, but that is also why I shouldn’t be guessing. However, per your question, I’d guess it means impeachment even though he is out of office.” The military lawyer shook her head, “Although it could be argued, perhaps, that a continuing conspiracy occurred outside of office. Its very constitutionally vague, given the actions took place prior to the presidency, during, and after and some potentially occurred within the powers of the position he held as president, not including the alleged crimes of Alliance Day. The actions of the original attack of course took place during his vice-presidency, which complicates it further, but also opens up the question of original crims prior to him holding the office you do now. Likely years of constitutional legal debates to solve.”
“I understand, just wanted a feel for your thoughts.” Shifting topics, the president asked, “What about the security? Any changes? Any restrictions?”
Captain Sumera spoke up, “According to Agent Davidson, his detail has gone on alert, of course. Normally they would probably reinforce since he’s only got Tomahawk as his sole Alphus in addition to the rest of the personnel. Agent Davidson is coordinating that at the moment and will be here shortly. It falls under the team leader’s discretion, but the Director can certainly recommend a shelter in place. The former president is at his residence, and was not scheduled to be traveling during this day of remembrance.”
“Get the director to do so please, tell her that we need to avoid as many incidents as possible until the amnesty deadline, and have time to review the evidence. We honestly do not know what Red Widow has planned. Unless we have a location on the remainder of the New Rangers?”
“Last known locations are all at least several days old, Ma’am. They are all, technically, private citizens.”
“Very well, can you set the office up to monitor Artemis’s mission?” Turning to her chief of staff, “At this point I think dinner is out the window, unfortunately, so arrange for something to be brought up for everyone.”
“Of course, Madam President. We’ll get right on it.”
Paragon Center, Alliance Memorial Park, November 5th 2033 7:55 EST
Back at the set, Red Widow’s gaze stared remotely past the cameras, a gaze so commonly referred to in certain circles as the ‘thousand yard stare,’ as chaos erupted on set during the break after her announcement about the former president, with panicked executives from ABC and its owner Disney calling Casey and yelling through the phone. Some other day, some other topic, she might have thought it funny, but right now she didn’t hear any of it, so lost in memories as she was, this close to former familiar landmarks.
“Hey, kiddo, need you and Mum to do something for me…..”
She stood up suddenly, and if her eyes were glistening a bit, the glare of the lights in the now darkened sky could easily explain it, “Mr. Becker, could we broadcast from the steps of the memorial? I’ve……I’ve not been back since the attack.” The lie came more easily than she’d planned.
“You’ve ne……of course, let us get ready to go mobile.” He turned and started issuing orders. Part of him was annoyed that he’d obviously never had control of this interview, and that he was being played. And yet, the excitement of this story had his blood on fire. It had been quite some time since he’d felt this way. National anchor did not bring the same type of excitement as reporting from the field. He hadn’t found this story, it had found him, but by god he was going to enjoy the energy of real breaking news again while he could. He’d been in Sacramento, reporting on what was thought to be the historic passage of California’s guarantee of civil rights for HomoSapiensAlphus on the day of the attack ten years ago, or else he’d have rushed with his friends to cover the assault on the Paragon Center, and would have died like so much of the local journalist population had that day. Anger and grief surged within him, and the thought of helping to bring to justice more of those who murdered all those people; this was far more than what he’d signed up for when Red Widow had reached out, and he was going to do this right. Finally.
As they started walking, slowly, allowing a dual set of cameramen to get in position, one leading and one trailing, he spoke clearly for the broadcast, “Welcome back to our interview with Red Widow, leader of the New Rangers. Its certainly been an exciting hour, with a considerable amount of information overload. Our analysts are just now beginning to sift through the data files uploaded to our site about the allegations against former President Winfield. However, we just discovered during the break that Red Widow has never returned to the memorial site since, well, since she left during the opening attacks of the Second American Civil War. She’s graciously allowed us to make that visit with her and we are walking there now.”
They began walking, Red Widow striding briskly, not looking at the young tree lined path, an absent memory from the week before filtering through her subconscious, Voltaic silently complaining that they were trying to grow trees unsuited to Southern California’s climate to create an artificial memorial for some clueless bastard back east instead of what had been here before the attacks. Her absent reply that Foster Industries should have known better, since technically they still owned the land the memorial had been placed on.
Breathing heavily, Casey stated, “Pardon the interruption Red Widow, as you see this memorial walk in person, is there something you wish to say to the audience? I apologize, but my ASL is not what it used to be.”
She stopped, her hands frozen in mid-sign, and a burst of anger flushed through her system, anger at being interrupted, frustration that she’d allowed herself and her mind to wander from the plan. Swallowing, she turned back to the anchor, “Sorry.” Face twisted in a grimace below the mask covering her eyes, “I was remembering a discussion with Voltaic a while back where we discussed the fact that the trees lining this walk were unsuited to the California climate. He’s a bit of an ecological purist, so I guess I was absently discussing it with him now that I am seeing it up front and personal.”
“And you discuss such things in ASL? So much so that it is habit forming in memory?” Unspoken at this point, but a growing concern in the anchor’s mind, was how stable exactly was Red Widow if she was speaking to persons not present.
“Yes, and I guess I didn’t realize that but its not so, well, I didn’t really think it was secret but perhaps we have not talked about it openly with the media. Obviously, ASL is well suited to quiet operations, and all kinds of military and police forces use hand gestures for silent operation in combat, or even because in combat hearing can be damaged. Not relevant I know,” and she smiled at the camera, “but we got in the habit of not speaking, I guess, due to Voltaic’s wounds that are a result of that day ten years ago.” She stopped, smiling at another memory, “I don’t think I’m saying too much when I say that he’s a good man, always been good with his hands and fingers,” smirking slightly, she continued, “loves planting things, the kind of kid years ago who learned ASL just in case he met someone that needed it to communicate, and when his wounds took his voice, well, let’s just say it took me a lot longer to learn it, and learning to use it is just as easy as learning to interpret it, or just as difficult, or……well, you know what I mean.”
“But we’ve heard Voltaic speak, or at least we thought we had in various clips in the past.”
“Now….now, yes, there is tech that can help turn his thoughts into sound, but…….I don’t know, we still use ASL most of the time.”
As they paused, every television began to stream via its banner…..
“BREAKING NEWS: RANGER VOLTAIC DISABILITY: MUTE DUE TO WOUNDS SUFFERED IN PARAGON CENTER ATTACK…..”
Except one…….the replacement for Chayse Weatherly, Drayson Garfield’s show on Fox News streamed…..
“HOMOSAPIENALPHUS ‘HERO’ VOLTAIC RECIEVES ADVANCED MEDICAL DEVICES BEFORE AVAILABLE TO CIVILIAN MARKET……”
Paragon Center, Alliance Memorial Park, November 5th 2033 7:58 EST
Slightly out of breath from the walk, Casey Becker broke into the echoing silence of the announcement of Voltaic’s wounds, “Folks – I know we promised you a spectacular interview tonight as part of our second hour, and here we have it, walking with the legendary Red Widow, leader of the valiant New Rangers Corps, but we are going to take a short break as we re-arrange some video/audio equipment as we move further into Alliance Memorial Park, then our breaking news coverage will return for as long as it takes, and as long as Red Widow and you, our interested viewers, wish to remain with us during this first official Alliance Day Memorial remembrance broadcast.”
While the official on air light blinked out, the trailing camera continued to stream to the network communications note, just in case. Maybe in the dark ages of television, the off air signal meant something, but now with continuous streaming and viewer mobile devices, everything was recorded anyway.
As they walked down one of the many tasteful trails of the park towards the actual memorial, Red Widow blinked and paused, “They didn’t rebuild it, did they? I mean, I knew, I think I knew that but…..”
Broken from his own train of thought as he delved deep into his mind to figure out the trigger in his memory that gave him comfort with Red Widow, he couldn’t place her, besides the obvious, and they had never met in person….and yet he felt that they had. “I’m sorry, Red Widow, they didn’t rebuild what?”
“He’d have been disappointed, you know, he felt war memorials often missed the point. Pretty sure he’d have rather they rebuilt it.”
Casey replied, “They have rebuilt the Paragon Center of Alphus Research and Medical Center, and the Paragon Academy has been rebuilt as well.” While nearly politely neutral, a hint of curiosity questioned the necessity to provide that information.
Somewhat lost again in memories, she replied a bit absently, “Of course they did.” Snapping out of her musings, she pointed off the path towards a small patio nestled under a couple of still developing oak trees, the patio held four decorative iron tables with accompanying chairs centered around a stone placement in the shape of a bar, taps included, the bartender washing the typical glass while the customer leaned into to place an order. “I meant Brewski’s Pub & Grill. I mean they rebuilt it the other times.” The mouth under the mask smiled slightly, sad and pleased. “We ate here a lot those years. Lunch, dinner, snacks, and Halloween.” The smile died slowly, “Halloween.” Shaking herself, “We could watch them at home of course, but Dad liked to watch the broadcast of every Western Force game here.”
Brewskis Pub & Grill, Crosswook, October 25th 2019 19:09 PM PDT
“Jesus fucking slug a platypus, that’s no sodding penalty. Motherfucker!” Oliver Smith, as he was known around here, was standing in the middle of the bar yelling at the bank of televisions, all of which, per special request by the Chief (him), and public owner of Paragon Security Services (again, him), responsible for the protection of various HOMECON related subjects, especially the Paragon Center Complex across the street, who’d thrown down the money for a significant buffet of food, cheap beer and Western Force rugby viewing screens, including the bar seating and surrounding tables, which were reserved for his family and any of his staff and their families who’d wanted a night out for free. Some had declined for whatever reasons, but most had not, because it had spread within the last year since his daughter moved in with him that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t completely an impersonal hard boss cocky with a stick up his arse about everything related to protocol and security.
Olivia Hannah “Smith” glanced around at the people, mainly families of the staff, most of whom were now staring at the sudden outburst, although a few of those who had attended previously laughed at the antics of their boss.
“Mum,” she talked around a mouthful of stuffed jalapeno poppers, followed by a bite of Brewskis new 5 Alarm Fire Wings, with blue cheese of course, she wasn’t a barbarian like these damned Americans who dumped ranch on every fucking thing, “why are they all starin’ at Da, people are always screamin’ at the TVs when that lame-ass American football is on that Henri likes so much.”
Amelia Brown finished swallowing the rest of her first beer, before daintily wiping her lips, her brunette hair pulled back into a pony-tail, an extra-large Western Force jersey hanging to mid-thigh, making it seem as if the shirt itself was a very short dress covering her stunningly fit body, although the mother in her had compromised by wearing form fitting yoga shorts underneath. “Because he’s the boss, and at work, he’s super serious, and even though he thinks he’s relaxed and fun to work with, well, you know how he is at home with security, so how do you think he is where it’s his public job?”
Livy took a drink of her own beer, popped in a fried mushroom, and stood up beside her father. Loudly, “That bloody official is as blind as a soddin’ mole.”
Her father turned with a fist bump, his white teeth shining from his deeply tanned face, a wide smile on his face, so rarely seen, “Don’t worry, kiddo, we’re goin’ ta FORCE THEM TO THEIR KNEES,” and she joined him with her own piercing scream of the team motto.
Amelia smiled, grabbing several fried oysters and shrimp from the platter, and put the fresh caught ones all on “Oliver’s” plate. Even all those years apart, they were so much alike it was impossible miss, even though he couldn’t see it through the normal self-doubt and pain, but, here, tonight, his love for his daughter, for her, lit up the room.
All those years while he’d been gone had been bad, all the fear of Dryse’s touch, but the last eighteen months were helping to sweep the horrors of a dozen years away. She smiled again, drinking more of another beer, and before the pain could come back, stood up and went and stood on the other side of him, grabbing and squeezing the muscular ass as she did.
The smile he flashed fanned the flames already stirring. She was so getting lucky tonight.
Paragon Center, Alliance Memorial Park, November 5th 2033 8:04 EST
“Holy Shit!” Casey blurted. His eyes wide, the beard didn’t cover the shock of his expression. “Your Dad is……was….”
Dragging herself from the memory, she turned and looked at him. “No offense, Casey, but I kind of figured you might have put it together before now, given that “both” of them disappeared at the same time.”
“Yes, I know, but….it was such a chaotic time, and he…..I…..” he glanced at the backup camera, clearing his throat.
She caught the glance, “Don’t worry, I know she and half the audience trailing us is recording on some device or another. If I didn’t want it, the devices would mysteriously die.”
He took a couple steps closer to her, “Your father was a good man, in many ways it appears. Hated publicity, of course, but that made him so much more authentic, and I don’t mean as Ghost Venom. I remember the housing charity he started, the interview he, we, well, all of us did after the tenth house was donated to a family in need, every one of them at least partially built by him personally. Didn’t matter who, or what, a person was. He just wanted a neighborhood where everyone lived together in peace.” He studied her face in the glare of the various camera lights, with only the walk lights over head to brighten the now darkened sky. “May I?”
She nodded as he stepped forward, hugging her, and while she didn’t quite hug back, it felt…..good. “I know its been a few years, but I am so sorry for your loss, Olivia,” and when the name was just barely whispered in order to help maintain her secrets, she started shuddering, and he just held her until she stopped.
As he started to step back, she grabbed his forearms, clearing her throat, “Go ahead and state the obvious when we go back on air, if not the secret identities yet, please? I promise I’ll get there tonight, in my time.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s one of the reasons I wanted to do this tonight, with you, instead of someone else.”
“Thank you. I really am very sorry.”
“I know. So am I.”
The seasoned reporter and anchor stepped back a couple of steps, and then turned to the primary camerawoman, watching the countdown. and when it hit zero, “Welcome back from that short break! I am Casey Becker, and tonight we are continuing past our scheduled ending time as we remember those who have fallen during the Second American Civil War, as well as the Anubis Massacre of 2026. We will be walking through Alliance Memorial Park, remembering those who died during that shocking attack on one of the primary medical and education centers of HomoSapienAdphus that broke tensions into outright war on this day in 2023. Our guest of honor, and previously unknown eyewitness participant and survivor of the Paragon Center Massacre is, as we have stated previously, but for those just joining us, the current leader of the New Ranger Corps, Red Widow, daughter of founding Alliance team member, Ghost Venom.”
He turned back to Red Widow, before saying, “You’re our guide tonight, Red Widow……..
Foster Industries Residential Tower, Crosswook , November 5th 2033 8:04 EST
“Holy shit. She really told him?”
The massive screen in front of her showed Red Widow and Casey Becker walking ever closer to the site of the original Paragon Center facility, but the bottom of the screen in the ever present breaking news bar displayed in all capital letters, RED WIDOW DAUGHTER OF GHOST VENOM!!!!!!!. Quickly a small corner window popped up displaying old streaming footage of Ghost Venom in action, although the loop was small as actual footage of the secretive hero had always been rare, interspersed with a very few personal interviews.
One of the additional screens her team had setup in the makeshift command room of their suite, while muted, showed the breaking news banner of Fox News, “ALPHUS TERRORIST GROUP NEW RANGERS LEADER RED WINDOW ADMITS TO BEING DAUGHTER OF HOMOCON CRIMINAL ALLIANCE VIGILANTE GHOST VENOM.“
The president just shook her head at the filth Fox News had collapsed into. Thankfully it wasn’t even in the top ten of “news” streaming networks nightly in ratings, and dropping, for the last three years, but it was still important to be aware of what the political arm of the UDP sponsored racist network was spouting, so nothing would hopefully come as a surprise.
Blinking her eyes, she threw an exasperated look at her son, before asking, “What else is she going to tell him?”
“You have to trust her Mom.” The earnest eyes and rigid stance of his body, gave her all the information she needed about the energy thrumming through him. “Please!”
She held her gaze on her son, who just recently had become her teenage son, and realized that she had, yet again, forgotten how young and naive he actually was, even with all of his advanced knowledge and skill.
A knock on the door interrupted whatever she was about to say in response, “Enter.”
Agent Lisandre Davidson, the lead agent for the night shift of her protection detail, opened the door. “Madam President, Dr. Henri George and family are here per your request, they said.”
“Sorry, Lisandre, I forgot to mention it to you in all the chaos, yes, William called her to request my old friend to come over to offer some policy advice. Please show them in.”
As she was finishing her statement, her husband walked out of one of the other suite rooms into the main area of the suite, “Are they still downstairs Agent Davison?”
“No sir, they are in the anteroom off the elevator.”
“Well, then, I’ll walk with you to greet them and bring them in.”
He walked over to his wife, kissed her on the cheek, and murmured, “Whitley is still not responding, I will leave for the memorial site shortly without her.”
Turning, he walked towards the door, “After you, Agent Davidson.”
Paragon Center, Alliance Memorial Park, November 5th 2033 8:14 EST
As they walked onward to the central memorial of the park, Red Widow turned inward, quiet in introspection, until the news anchor, knowing that dead air was always a problem, gave a quick overview as the broadcast came back live after yet another sponsorship break. Concluding the summary, he turned back to the star of the night, “Red Widow, since you were piloting the evacuation craft that long afternoon ten years ago, perhaps you can answer a question that many music fans, and especially fans of Innocent of Riddles have wandered over the years, about the music choice blaring from your aircraft during each rescue?”
She blinked out of her reverie of memory, and with a twist in the corner of her smile, “Drogon One.”
“I’m sorry, Drogon One?”
Now smiling, “My father and his friend Titan had built the craft out of a salvaged air frame, of course completely replacing everything else. I was a teenager when Game Of Thrones ended, so he named her Drogon One, and gave the AI assistant the name Moon Bunny, ya know? From the oral moon stories?”
Casey nodded at the reference to the never-ending popular World of Westeros original series.
“Anyway, you asked about the music. Drogon One wasn’t ready when the attack occurred, most of the weapons offline, some of the shielding, plus a few minor things like the entertainment database. Dad had uploaded a few of the songs he knew were my favorites, or our favorites. I don’t know how much he actually liked Innocent of Riddles, but I was a huge fan, and the first ever concert he took me to was their sold out concert tour in San Diego, on my birthday no less, a few years before. We had the greatest time. He’d bought me a tour shirt before we went, and another hoodie there, I probably wore one of those shirts every day for six months. Got kind of ripe, or so my Mum said.” She smiled at the memories, and so did Casey, pleased he could offer that moment of comfort to a trauma victim, even in the middle of gathering news that would spike through the music industry.
“There you have it, music fans, Red Widow and Ghost Venom, both fans of Innocent of Riddles, their music blaring as they rescued innocent civilians, students and medical staff before and during the biggest single atrocity in the history of the United States. We’ve reached the central memorial, and we’re going to give our guest a few minutes to visit her father’s marker in peace without us intruding, so we will switch you back to Mikaela at the studio news desk for a few minutes review of what we’ve learned so far tonight, and then will be back to conclude our interview with Red Widow, leader of the New Ranger Corps, and daughter of the iconic late Ghost Venom, on this first official Alliance Day memorial holiday, ten years after the attack on the Paragon Research and Medical Campus by the UDP and allied rogue government forces.”
She walked forward, away from the news crew and reporters, away from the gathering crowd of mourners and tribute payers attracted to the lights and activity, many watching parts of the previous broadcast as short clips on their mobile devices, striding forward with graceful purpose, the prodigal daughter returning to visit the ghost of her father. A wheelchair and its occupant sat quietly a few feet to the left, it’s assistant standing a few feet away, in front of the hoisted graceful sculpture depicting Gleam Shimmer coming in for a landing, blasters raised as if providing cover fire for those on the ground.
All an act, she thought. Lukas really did have an eye for the dramatic, once he stopped trying to convince her not to do this, he put the full weight of his brilliant mind behind it. She, on the other hand, had long preferred the shadows, apples really didn’t fall far from their twisted trees.
She really hadn’t been here in the last ten years, not until a few days ago when they installed all of the nano-screens, bugs, transmitters, and everything else Nano said they needed to have ready in case of countermeasures, especially when they pulled the plug on the network broadcast, which was coming, and yet already too late.
Paragon Center, Alliance Memorial Park, October 31st 2033 3:01 AM PDT
He really was graceful when he wanted to be, and even quiet for someone that large, but when he wanted to clomp his feet to attract attention, it sounded like a wounded elephant on an old wood stage, echoing across the city, so she turned toward the racket, placing the tool she’d been using on the ground next to the others.
His mouth gaped open as he stared at her handiwork, before rapidly signing, “You can’t do that, Livy, it’s…..it’s sacrilege.”
She snort laughed, “Its perfect,” she signed back before turning to look up at the twelve foot statue. Turning back to her partner, she resumed, “He’d have hated this fucking memorial and its damn grotesque larger than life depiction. But he’d love my alterations. Dad hated the publicity. He finally used it because the struggle demanded it, but he hated it. Uncle Bryce would have loved a giant memorial though, he’d have liked it better if he was still alive to plop his ass on top of it.”
“Livy….I thought…”
With a flick of the switch, anger and grief surged and she gave up signing, “What, Lukas, you thought I’d come here to cry a river of tears, to visit this gaudy piece of stone and metal erected by a government that fucking helped murdered him, them, that they made to worship the concept of an Alliance they didn’t support after he’s fucking gone? This isn’t a fucking memorial grave Lukas, this is a fucking crime scene, a mass murder site in a city they fucking nuked to make sure they killed them.”
Enraged she kicked the paint can halfway down the walk where it clattered and sprayed its remaining paint everywhere. “They took them all from me. I’m going to burn them to the ground.”
He caught her arm and tried to pull her into him, and she whirled and drove a punch into his stomach that would have killed a normal man, but he grunted and she hit him again, and again…..and again, over and over as she channeled her pain the only way she ever learned to, before collapsing into his arms, sobbing.
Eons later, or seconds, she looked up at him, “I’m sorry,” to which he just smiled, before kissing her on the forehead.
She turned to look back at the statue, before smiling sadly, “He’d have loved it Lukas. Let’s go,” and she took his hand dragging him towards the exit, before pausing to look back and whisper, “Happy Halloween, Da’.”
In the cool night, under the lights of the memorial, she chuckled at the site of a giant Ghost Venom statue painted as if wearing a Silver Spyder T-shirt.
TO BE CONTINUED . . . .
Last Dreams 