Chapter 25: Blackmail
Augustus's eyes roved the surface of an all-too familiar map beneath the dim light of an aged fixture. Small red crosses were scattered on the parchment's variously shaped rectangles, reflecting an empty chess board ready to be filled with pieces.
He sprinkled .357 rounds over the table as he spoke.
"Do you believe words can change people?"
The lone Advanced Engineer standing by the door looked around for a moment. "Are you talking to me, sir?"
"Who else?"
"Of course. My apologies, sir."
"You can apologize by giving me an answer."
The Engineer stared at the ground, thinking. He looked back up.
"If… those words are convincing enough, then perhaps?"
"'If those words are convincing enough,'" Augustus repeated to himself in a whisper. He scoffed. "Weren't you Engineers supposed to be intelligent?"
"With all due respect sir, our area of expertise lies in machinery and maintenance, not philosophy."
"I'm aware. Surely your training has given you some unique perspectives. Why don't you humor me while we wait?" Augustus sifted through the army of bullets in front of him, separating them into different pools as his fingers trailed Nevada's roads. "In truth, 'perhaps' was the incorrect answer. Many have tried to solve this timeless question. Unfortunately, every part of a person is a product of circumstantial variability. It appears there is no panacea for mankind's ignorance."
"So there is no answer?"
"No definitive answer. If there was, then human conflict would be nonexistent." Augustus began to pick up the individual cartridges, inspecting each one under the light. "Despite diversity, the universal desire to survive is an abusable flaw. When one's right to exist is threatened by an unstoppable force, in most cases, fear and anger will make them bend in any direction."
One particular round made him pause. There was a luster to this bullet that was different from the others. Perhaps it was due to the way it was manufactured. Or rather, it had been polished by the other bullets in its box like a piece of refined limestone. Regardless of the reasons, it had caught its master's eyes and that was enough.
"On rare occasion, you may find an interesting outlier. A person that seemingly subverts this rule, whether it be from experience or some unnatural factor. To the common man, they are the worst adversaries." With a flick of his thumb, Augustus flipped the bullet into the air, snatching it into his hand. "But to the opportunist, they are the greatest pieces on the board."
"Do you believe you're an outlier, sir?"
The bullet smoothly rolled off of Augustus's hand as it traced over the grooves of his fingertips. As soon as it fitted itself into a chamber, he methodically flicked his wrist, setting the cylinder into place with a clink.
"Of course not."
The Engineer remained silent before his headset buzzed. He pushed the button on the side of the device, and a brief moment later, lowered his arm.
"Preparations for the Tent are set, sir."
"Splendid." Augustus stood with a grin. "Now let's invite the locals to the Circus."
The road to the Nevada Devils' hideout was paved with painful memories. Hank, Sanford, and Deimos met nothing but desolation as they made their way through the still-ruined buildings they passed. Once, the drifters and the destitute populated every street corner, every poorly-lit alley. Yet, even the unfortunates who had no place to flee to had fled long ago.
"Augustus, that bastard. He's rubbing it in our faces, isn't he?" Deimos muttered from the passenger's seat. He turned around and met Hank's gaze. "The hell happened in there? And how hard did you kick his ass?"
Hank took a moment to process an answer.
"You two steer clear from him."
Deimos stared at him before turning back around, uncharacteristically speechless. Sanford tried to keep his focus to his front.
"I'm thinking we stick together from here on out." Sanford broke the awkward silence. "Watch each other's backs."
"Ya think they're using all those other hideouts we cleared up too?" Deimos asked.
Sanford applied the brakes, bringing the sedan to a halt. "I don't know. But I think we're bound to find out."
The Devils' complex looked exactly as how they had left it. Deimos let out a chuckle as he saw the rusted dumpster.
Sanford stepped out of the car. "Nostalgic?"
"Yep," Deimos replied, following suite. "Still remember what leet in leet is?"
"1-3-3-7?"
"There ya go." The lit tip of Deimos' cigarette bobbed with each syllable. "At least you're not old enough to have shit memory, gramps."
"Your nerdspeak still isn't something worth remembering, Deimos."
Though Hank was the last to exit the car, he was the first to stride towards the abandoned hideout. Deimos sighed and shook his head.
"I'm gonna need another cigarette."
"I think I might too."
Deimos looked at his partner. "You're not a smoker though."
"If this keeps up, I will be."
"Stick to being an alcoholic, San. If we make it out of this, I'll swap you my liver for a lung."
How many hours had it been since she had been dragged off? How far was she from the closest human being?
Not far, she imagined. He would arrive soon.
As Cathy kept her knees close to her chest, her head lightly tapped the side wall, like a child surrendering to starvation.
How could she forgive herself?
Like an unforgiving tumor, the question recurred in Cathy's mind. To her dismay, it grew with her thoughts and feelings in a vicious feedback loop. If that wouldn't kill her, then what was coming next almost certainly would.
Death did not knock. It marched up cold, metal stairs in steel-toed boots.
She looked up at the noise that paused in front of the lone entranceway to the room. A solid kick flung the door inward with a crash. Cathy covered her head, expecting the worst.
No hot lead boring holes into her skull. No honed blades sliding between her ribs. Nothing.
Cathy risked a glance upwards. Hank stood before her. One look at each other's faces told them they were on the same page.
Hank lowered his head.
"Why?"
That was the best he could muster. She looked down at her knees.
"If you're going to hurt me, you know I can't stop you."
Hank grabbed her by the neck, lifting her up against the wall with one arm. She gagged, feeling the rough leather of his glove squeezing her throat. From the doorway, Sanford set his arm in front of Deimos before the techie could intervene.
"Everything I cared about," Hank hissed, "burned down right in front of me for a second time. Do you understand what that means to me, you backstabbing bitch?"
"Mother…" Her face was starting to turn red. "My… mother..."
"Really?" He scoffed as he dropped her. "The 'I've-got-a-wife-and-two-kids' card?"
Hank crossed his arms as she fell to her knees, her coughs devolving into shivers.
"Do not fuck with me. If you want to die, you'll be much better off doing it yourself." He glared at her. "And if you care about your mother so much, you're giving me answers."
"I didn't have a choice." She coughed.
"Some of us never had a choice. And now, you don't either."
"Well... I didn't have one from the start." Cathy's voice hardened a little as she weakly stood up. "Maybe you might've had one if you were in my shoes, but I didn't. I was stuck between two things I cared about, and-"
"Get to the useful part already."
"Hank, I loved you!"
"Kiss my resurrected ass." Hank closed in on her with each word. "Are you trying to waste my time? You're clearly working with that AAHW mass murderer. You know, the one who's been lopping the heads off of civilians nonstop for the last twelve hours. Tell me where he is."
She walked back in retreat. "You don't understand-"
"I understand that you knew about Augustus and his god complex and threw us away for it. He was probably another lover, wasn't he?"
"You're wrong!" The tears started streaming down her face now as she tried looking away. "Because..."
Hank reached into his coat. "This is pointless."
"He's my brother!"
Harley's curses were directed to both the three-man team that had ignored his calls and the invaders they were meant to fight. Bullets flew over the squad car he hid behind as he huddled behind the engine block, trying to make himself as small as possible. Him and his accompanying officer had barely made it a couple of blocks beyond the station before the rounds started to fly.
"Clyde!" Harley shouted over the din of gunfire. "Where the hell are we getting shot from?!"
Clyde fired a few random shots from cover, hoping he would scare off their ambushers. "I don't know!"
"Take this!" Harley grabbed his Remington 870 and tossed it to his comrade. "And cover our asses!"
Clyde brought his head back up to the fray. Harley reached out for his radio, sighing in relief as soon as he heard it emit static. With all the punishment the car had taken, he was surprised it hadn't failed him.
"Chief to all units!" Harley yelled into the speaker. "All units, report in!"
"10-4, Officer Dempsey reporting in!" Less than a second later, the panicked voice of the officer on the other line came in.
"Dempsey! What's your status?!"
"10-33, they're all over! They got us pinned down, requesting assistance!"
"Officer Warren, reporting!" Another officer's voice joined the comms, just as panicked. "I have a man down here! Requesting reinforcements and immediate medical assistance!"
"Negative, Warren! All units are unavailable-!"
"Chief!" A third officer spoke over him. "Our guns aren't punching through their body armor!"
"They're fuckin' shooting and grabbing people everywhere!" A fourth, shaky voice added as Harley tried opening his mouth to respond. "We need backup!"
"We have citizens hiding behind us right now, Chief!" Officer Warren repeated. "We can't-!"
"We've lost control!" A fifth officer interrupted. "They're slaughtering us!"
Panicked chatter flooded the radio, meshing into incomprehensible, screaming gibberish. Harley grit his teeth.
"All units, fall back to the station, I repeat, fall back!"
None of the officers protested as soon as Harley cut his line. Clyde joined him behind cover again.
"Does that include us, Chief?"
"Goddamn right it does. I'm not losing anyone else!" Harley looked at the wheels of their car, grimacing at the sight of three flat tires. His focus shifted across the road, towards a vacant alleyway about fifty meters away. "We're going to have to make a break for it! You a runner?"
"I was a benchwarmer in high school!"
"Good enough." Harley reached out, and Clyde pressed the shotgun into his hands. "On me!"
Harley led the sprint straight for their only place of refuge. He kept his eyes fixed on the entrance, on the only possibility that there would be a tomorrow where he would still be alive. A sudden force on his back shoved him forward. Before he tripped into safety, he heard a sound akin to a bullet hitting wet soil behind him.
Harley turned around, just in time to see Clyde fall to his side, completely exposed to every possible angle around the block. They stared at each other on the ground, the police chief with his mouth agape and blood leaking out of his officer's.
At the next moment, that same face was scattered onto the pavement with three quick claps of gunfire. Any strength and hope Clyde had used to raise his head instantly vanished.
"CLYDE!" Harley hollered without thinking.
Though he still couldn't see them, the chief could feel half a dozen pairs of eyes trained on the alley, waiting for the slightest hint of movement. Harley scrambled to his feet, running deeper into the passageway as his heart beat against his ears. For every three steps, he cursed himself for feeling a confusing cocktail of emotions that should have been quelled.
A single, wrought iron fence stood halfway down the path. Harley jammed his fingers between the tiny openings, pulling himself up slightly before tossing his shotgun over the barbed wire lining the top of the barricade. Clearing the fence strained every tired muscle fiber in his arms. He threw himself over, and cuts complimented the pain before he came smashing back onto the concrete with a heavy thud.
Only two things reassured him: his shotgun and his beating heart. Harley kicked himself back to his feet and sprinted his way down the last few meters of the alley.
At the very end were the unmistakable bright blue shades of an Agent.
The hostile rounded the corner in slow-motion, a rifle seemingly leveled at Harley's chest. Instinct helped Harley pump and fire first, but his target's finger was already wrapped around the trigger. Shotgun pellets tore into the Agent's head, but his final muscle spasm pulled the trigger as he crumpled. One of the stray bullets pierced Harley in the skin between his left shoulder and pec.
Harley screamed as he fell. Once his lungs gave out, he looked at the hand he clutched his wound with. Seeing his palm completely soaked in blood only made him feel worse.
Yells from behind kicked him back to his feet. Harley grunted as he pulled himself up using the wall beside him. An all-too-obvious trail of blood lined the side of the building as he practically dragged himself out of the alley.
Click.
A single step out of the alleyway and the muzzle of a pistol was already pressed against the temple of Harley's skull. He froze in place, raising his shotgun to the side. Another Engineer and two more Agents moved in around him, weapons trained on their newest hostage.
"Drop it, Chief." The Engineer holding the gun to his head spoke in a gruff voice.
They knew who he was. Harley's rank was the reason why his head wasn't splattered over the ground like Clyde's. It was also the reason why he was certain he'd be tortured the moment he dropped his guard.
"Drop it."
The order came much harsher the second time around, but Harley's grip on his weapon tightened. One of the Agents smashed the stock of his rifle into the police chief's side. Sudden pain made Harley collapse again. His pump-action was kicked away and his body was pinned to the ground by a barrage of kicks and bashes.
The first Engineer pressed a button on the side of his headset. "Alpha-5, reporting. We've secured a VIP. Returning to Tent."
The beating stopped. Harley was left in a shivering, bloody and battered mess. The squad moved to pick him up, only to be interrupted by the loud honk of a horn.
"What the…?"
Calculated bursts of gunfire erupted from the back of a jeep charging straight towards them. An Engineer and one of the Agents fell immediately, while the other pair fired off frantic rounds that missed their marks. The Engineer rolled off to the side, but the car smashed into the Agent, sending his body off the bloodied hood.
As the Engineer clambered to his feet, the passenger sitting shotgun popped over the jeep's door and fired a shell into his face. Lying down had saved Harley's life, though it also left him showered in red and yellow giblets.
"Think we found the target," the passenger said, pumping the action.
The driver raised his head. "Aidan, grab him!"
Harley barely had enough time to grab his 870 before the third man dragged him into the car Loud, struggling groans made them aware of his status.
"Yeah. That's him, all right." The man assessed the damage to Harley's left shoulder. "If they were shooting to kill, all they had to do was aim a little more to his right. Where's the bandages?"
The man with the shotgun slammed the side of his fist against the glove compartment. Opening it, he tossed the white roll to the third man, who immediately started wrapping the police chief's wound.
"Who…?" Harley finally wheezed out.
The bandager gestured to himself. "Aidan." He then pointed to the passenger's seat. "Ivo." Lastly, the driver's. "Adriel. And Antithesis sent us to save your ass, specifically."
"Antithesis?" Harley grimaced. "Not you people again. Fuck."
"I'm sorry!" Aidan forcefully tightened the bandages after the last word, eliciting another pained gasp from Harley. "Want us to call you a limo? Oh wait, the AAHW probably controls that too!"
Adriel glared through the rearview mirror. "Aidan!"
"Why'd we have to do PR of all things?" Aidan spread his arms. "Our guys are risking our lives for your mess, you know."
Harley grabbed at his injury. "Where are we going?"
"To the hospital," Ivo answered. "Should be downtown and last I checked, we still have control over that part of the city."
Hospital. Melissa's smiling face resurfaced in Harley's mind, but so did Clyde's corpse.
"No," Harley responded, sternly.
"You've been shot." Adriel tried to hide incredulity in his voice. "You need actual medical assistance."
"I need to get back to my men." Harley sat himself up, stomaching the pain down. "Get me to the station. We're going to RZ there."
"No offense, but I think all this battlefield crap is screwing with your head." Ivo looked behind him. "You were barely able to fight those guys off with both your arms. What makes you think you can retake the city with just one?"
"We can hold off until the military comes in, and-"
"That'll take too long," Aidan spoke over Harley. "Those bastards got blockades all over the damn place and it was hard enough for our guys to squeeze through."
"My boys are waiting for me and I am not going to abandon them!" Harley yelled back.
The jeep went quiet. Adriel's sigh broke the silence.
"The Army divisions are en route, sir."
The Homeland Security advisor spoke, indicating the widescreen monitor at the front of the President's cabinet. The Situation Room's bright lights shined over them, forming rings of light around each member's scalp.
"And when can you get inside the city?" The president asked.
"At this time, there are no plans for infiltration." The advisor faced the rest of the staff. "The National Guard and local police force will have to hold out until we can mount a proper offensive. This is only for positioning."
The president scowled. "Positioning?"
"Our knowledge of the situation is limited. Based on reports before we lost communications, we know there are at least two dozen terrorists surrounding the perimeter. We would have to fight our way in first." The advisor looked to the floor. "We also know they are likely AAHW in origin. There are numerous hostages."
Nervous chatter broke out. The president palmed the table, silencing everyone.
"What are you proposing?" the chief of state asked, in a less-than-inquisitive manner.
"Negotiations," the advisor threw the word into the air like a live grenade. "If they're guarding the circumference of the city, it means there's something at the center they don't want us to have."
"You want us to negotiate with them?" the vice president immediately chimed in. "After they killed, what, half the police force?"
"It's exactly because they've probably killed half of the cops that we should focus on negotiating," the advisor suggested. "Initial reports confirmed the terrorists are heavily armed. If we just storm in there, it'll be like Normandy… with civilians on the beaches."
The president ran a hand through his hairline. "What about the public?"
"Nobody outside of us and that city knows what's going on. It's the only upside to not having a signal."
"Let's keep it that way." The president sat back on his leather chair, which let out a tired squeak. "The public won't be too glad to hear that we know almost as much as they do about the situation."
"The advance force we have on the ground will try and gather more intel. In the meantime, all we can do is wait."
In the silence, the advisor took his seat again. The flat screen still glared the map back at them, just as blank as the moment they had displayed it.
"They're doing this shit again," the vice president mumbled. "I would've thought they'd at least give us more than three years."
"No, they're not." The president turned to him. "The Agency's been stripped to the bone. We're just dealing with their dregs, that's all."
"Call them what you want, it doesn't change the situation." The vice president placed his hands in front of himself. "Those Anti-AAHW guys… maybe we should have worked with them in the cleanup. Maybe this wouldn't have happened if we did."
"Stop overreacting." The commander in chief's frown deepened. "We will regain control before anyone finds out. I have full faith in our armed forces. We won't need mercenaries to clean our mess again."
"Mister President," one of the Watch Team members from the communications division phoned in from the center of the table, "there's an urgent call for you."
"And exactly who is important enough to take up our time right now?"
"The… self-proclaimed organizer of the ongoing terrorist attack, sir."
Everyone in the room exchanged looks. Mouth agape as he stared at a gray wall, the president replied.
"Put them on the line and trace it."
A small click signalled the order being followed. The next scratchy voice immediately spoke, surrounded by loud, but unintelligible noise.
"Ah, finally. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mister President. All these different phone lines and branches they kept switching me around… I was started to get dissuaded! Does convolution make you feel safe?"
"Who the hell are you and what do you want?"
"All business and no personality. I like that. It suits politicians like you," the caller replied. "You can call me Augustus. As for what I want... well, it's a simple request. Do you happen to be near a television?"
"We-"
"Of course you are. It comes with that little political panic room you and your cabinet are hiding in, right? Now, I want you to do me a favor. Turn it on and change it to a news channel. Any one will do!"
"Are you stupid enough to think we're just going to follow your charades?"
The caller laughed. "You would be stupid not to. I have plenty of ammo and plenty of hostages to spend them on, Mister President."
All eyes focused on the president. After slight hesitation, he nodded, leading one of his advisors to press a button on his remote. The screen's map had changed to a random news network discussing some gibberish about international trade.
"Did you follow my directions?"
"Yes."
"Fantastic. Next, I want you to pay close attention to any sudden changes. Do you see me?"
"What are you yammering on about?"
The screen cut to harsh static. When it refocused, the massive crowd of dozens of terrified people became immediately clear, their bruised skins featured in high definition at the center of the dark floor of the auditorium. The camera panned up to the stage, beyond the blue visors of Agents and Engineers lining the walls with rifles, to the lone man with a cellphone pressed against the side of his face.
And he smiled.
"Hello there."
The cabinet stood from their seats, eyes completely fixated on the flatscreen.
"Oh my God," the head of Homeland Security whispered.
"You coward!"
"Careful, Mister President! You're on national television!" Augustus pointed a finger to the camera. "Ah, ah, ah! I know what you're thinking, but don't touch that dial! Because I guarantee you, it will be a broadcasted bloodbath if you do."
"Cut that feed," the vice-president growled through gritted teeth. A few of the advisors hurried out of the room wordlessly.
"Now then! For those of you who are just tuning in, welcome one and all to the Underground Circus!" From the television, the mass captor raised his arms. "Coming to you live from the Tent, somewhere in Nevada! Feeling left out? Then it's your lucky day, because you're just in time to preview one of our special events! Hostage Roulette, free of charge!"
Augustus pointed at one of the young men standing towards the front. The man glanced around, turning his attention towards every possible direction other than his own. One of the Agents grabbed him by the arm, dragging the hostage towards the stage before tossing him to his knees in front of Augustus. The man looked up, wordless pleas for mercy reflected in his eyes.
"What're you gonna to do to me, man?"
"Shh." Augustus placed a finger onto the man's quivering lips. "This is my time. Not yours."
An Engineer placed a burlap sack over the man's head and the prisoner yelped. Augustus smashed his boot down onto the captive's back, bending his body to the ground.
"The rules are very simple." Augustus drew his revolver and set the business end against the back of the hostage's skull. "This gun holds exactly one bullet." With his other hand, he raised his phone. "And on the other end of this line is your beloved and most trusted commander in chief, for all to hear. He will be asked a few questions. If he fails, I pull the trigger once. And if he cuts the line… half of the prisoners here die."
Screams erupted from the civilians. Warning shots erupted from the guards.
"Heyyy! Who said any of you were allowed to SPEAK?" Augustus's voice cracked on the last word. His jaw tightened as his bloodshot gaze swept the horrified, but silent, faces. One young woman in particular took up his focus. "Young lady. I heard you were making quite a bit of noise. Would you like to come up here and take this man's place, hm? Save his life as a martyr?"
The woman's lip quivered and tears streamed down her face. She shook her head silently.
"No more noise. All is in order." Augustus whispered to himself as he rubbed at the lower half of his face. After reestablishing what little panache he had exuded in his composure, he looked back at the camera. "Let's begin."
Augustus cocked the hammer on his gun. "Who's got the nuclear football?"
No response came from the cabinet. Augustus raised his eyebrows, curled his lower lip, and pulled the trigger.
Click.
Empty. The hostage still yelled..
"Did I not make myself clear enough? How about the Gold Codes? Does that ring a bell?"
"I have them," the president said. Then, after a moment of hesitation, "... and so does the vice-president."
The half-dozen pair of eyes remaining in the Situation Room stared at the Commander in Chief in bewilderment.
"Good. Well, it would have been, if you didn't make me waste a chamber for publicly available information. So we're off to a great start." Augustus's revolver didn't move; he cocked it.. "Let's amp up the difficulty. Which of the lines on the Gold Codes is the correct line?"
The vice-president tapped a finger against the table, grabbing the president's attention. He shook his head to the commander in chief, eyes wide.
"Hellooo?" Augustus stared back at the camera. "Are you still with us, Mister President?"
"I am not authorized to tell you anything."
"Oh." Augustus paused. "Oh, you're not authorized."
Click.
He pulled the trigger a second time. No bullet, but more lung-shrivelling screams and gasps.
"You know what your secretary said? She said, 'please hold!' And then I did. FOR AN HOUR! And now you're going to preach about your authorization? Perhaps the circumstances escape you, but my bullet is authorized to kill this man!"
"I am not going to endanger my entire country just to play along with your sick games!"
"How noble and considerate of you!" Augustus laughed. "So you won't answer because my question endangers your people's lives? So be it. Then surely, you can tell me where the Situation Room is located, correct? After all, that would only endanger your life, as well as the lives of anyone else following this 'authority' of yours."
Again, no response came from the powers that be. Augustus's grin melted.
"Mister President, you're going to have to try harder than that. You see, I really don't know where the bullet is. What I do know, however, is that there are six chambers in this gun, which means this man has a sixteen-point-sixty six percent chance of not breathing after every time I pulled the trigger. Sixteen-point-seven, if you want to round up. But we also fired two empty chambers already, meaning the odds are now twenty-five percent. Would you care to take on twenty-five?"
Muffled, barely distinguishable screams of "NO" and "GOD" came from the burlap sack.
"Listen." The president's eyes were fixated on the screen as he shook his head. "Don't do this."
After a brief moment, Augustus pulled the trigger one last time. In front of every television set in the country, the young man's brains were scattered by twenty-five percent.
The feed cut, just after the crowd screamed. An uproar came from the cabinet, but died just as abruptly as the hijacked program. Before the confused reporter could speak, one of the advisors shut off the television and pressed his hands against his face.
"Do you know what's the saddest part about all this?" The call continued to run over the chaos of bullets and yelling in the background. "When the AAHW took over the first time, all your files were at our disposal, including the ones about the nukes and about your current location. Even if we didn't already have this information, you could have changed it down the line and saved that man. But you couldn't spare a moment of insecurity for a stranger's life, could you?"
"You sick motherfucker," the president's voice came just barely into a whisper. "You're a dead man walking, do you hear me? And if you think you can negotiate your way out of this-"
"Negotiate?" Augustus chuckled. "Don't get ahead of yourself now. 'Negotiate' implies that we both have something the other wants. This isn't a negotiation, Mister President. It's an ultimatum."
"You had a better chance with negotiation," the vice president spat. "We will not discuss terms with deranged psychopaths!"
"It doesn't matter how you see us. You need our hostages more than we do. And now, you know that we still exist."
A chill ran through each politician's spine. The Homeland Security advisor interjected.
"What is it that you want?"
"We are collecting data. And it would be greatly appreciated if there would be no rogue variables skewing our results. After we are done, we will vanish just as soon as we appeared. Casualties will be… er, relatively minimal." Augustus's voice turned sterner. "For every unauthorized man that walks into the city, five hostages will be hung from the tallest buildings we can find. So send your best men to challenge us. See what happens."
"And you think we're just going to roll over and leave those people to die?"
"You already have, Mister President. The only variable that remains is how many more are you willing to sacrifice."
Augustus' voice and the carnage was replaced by a dial tone. Again, every member of the cabinet looked to each other for some miraculous answer. Again, their anxieties worsened when they realized the others were doing the exact same thing.
"What now?" The vice president finally pierced the silence.
The commander in chief looked down at the table as he sunk into his chair. The light that shone over them seemed even dimmer than before.
(Original) A/N: Chapter 25 is done. Did you enjoy it? God I hope so, but I still think Chapter 24 kicks more ass than this one. I'm doing my best here, and there are just so many ideas floating around in my head. This will be a long fight, I'd say about 6 chapters' worth. So if you notice things getting longer and longer here, don't say I didn't warn you.
Anyways, Reviewer's Credit:
Xenophobic, thanks for your comments. I appreciate them greatly and I hope you will continue to enjoy this story. The information you gave me before had helped me out with the development of Chapter 24. So, thanks dude!
InvaderAsh, I'm glad you enjoyed Chapter 24's surprises. As I said before, there are a lot of shockers coming in soon, so keep checking it out. There weren't many in this chapter in particular, but it's just beginning.
Sackrum, I'm also happy that you liked this plot development so far. You made some good points that I was trying to convey, and I have read the stories you have sent me. You have talent my good friend, and I hope you decide to upload them. Sackrum is my schoolmate, so when I crossed paths with him at this site, I realized that we could begin a great bond together.
By the way, you guys are nuts. Like, crazy nuts. On Thursday, I just had 86 views and 18 visitors to this story (like seriously? WTF?). Do I appreciate it? Fuck yeah I do! We're at the 700's mark now, so that is extremely encouraging to me. Please, continue to show your appreciation and in return, I will not forget to mention you in my story.
Read and review you guys. I've made some edits to particular chapters after they were uploaded to get rid of grammar and spelling errors as well as awkwardly worded sentences. So you'll notice most major errors that are distracting to the reader have been eliminated and edited.
I will be working on Chapter 26 A.S.A.P. Thank you all for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter of Final Salvation.
~Spirit9871
(New) A/N: Christ, this was a rough chapter to get out. There was a ton of stuff I added onto the plot while I was rewriting this (though the base material is still the same), but I'm really proud of the result and I hope it shows! I'm also grateful to see that this was the least embarrassing original Reviewers' Credits I've read thus far (or should I say, "Reviewer's Credit"). Man, I really need to get a grip on all these names I've got set up…
Let's start talking about those changes now:
Changelog:
1 - Chapter title changed from: "Blackmail and the Reality of War" to "Blackmail." I… honestly don't even know what to say about the original title, my God.
2 - More Harley and the boys in blue! The original absolutely failed in giving them the well-deserved screen time for their heroics! This was another big change I'm happy about (but took a while to finally flesh out).
3 - Black Snake boys (Aidan, Adriel, and Ivo) are in! For those of you who read Hank's Legacy, I'm sure their appearance comes off as a pleasant surprise; got quite a bit planned out for them later down the road. ;)
4 - Major pacing changes. You may have noticed some details here that wouldn't have (or rather, shouldn't have) shown up until the next chapter. This is because I feel like the original's pacing didn't really make a lot of sense at this part and the original didn't have enough content to consider itself a meaty "chapter." Rest assured, the events are still very much the same!
5 - Speaking of which, the phone call between Augustus and the president. While I omitted all the names of the politicians (because honestly, who's gonna give a shit about the names of a bunch of old dudes in suits with no bigger role in the story), I've added a lot more to put at stake with the entire Underground Circus clusterfuck. Hope the tension really shows here; this was the second longest part of this chapter I spent time on!
6 - Grammatical errors removed.
7 - Narration and dialogue improved.
8 - Diction enhanced.
9 - The universe is a better place.
Done. Now a little update on my personal end:
Summer break is here! Granted I might be preoccupied with personal stuff, but this is definitely the freest I'll be in a while, for a while! I managed to score an internship with a pretty awesome private school as an assistant tutor, so I'm really happy about that! Oh, and with Ramadan finally over, it's great to finally put food and water in my stomach at any time of the day. Helps me really focus when I write, as you would imagine.
We've got a lot of big things planned this season! With the end of Final Salvation coming into sight, Hank's Legacy Season IV is undergoing planning. Plus, after many, MANY years of hiatus, there may be plans of continuing the Hank's Legacy manga. ;)
But, only time will tell! If you guys want to ask me questions about things, you can now do so anonymously at the Curiouscat link I have set up on my profile! Ask me whatever you like; I'm practically an open book for anyone curious enough to take up the opportunity! I've already answered a few awesome questions there in-depth, so fire away!
Thank you all so much for reading, as well as for all your love and support! It still means the world to me and I'm sure the same can be said for the rest of my team helping me with this project every step of the way. Seriously, this still wouldn't be going without those of you taking the time to vocalize your following!
We hope you enjoyed this rewritten chapter of Final Salvation! Thanks again, and here's to a summer of fresh Madness content! Stay frosty ya'll!
~ Spirit