AN: Sorry if the last chapter seemed a little scattered or short. I meant to post more in that chapter, but my account was and still is acting up... So here's the next chapter, and it's really a continuation of the previous chapter. Hope it clears a few things up for you all! And thanks for being so patient over the past few months - you're all wonderful!

The whole camp plunged into chaos. From the moment Monroe picked up the gun, shouts were flying and hardened soldiers were saying their prayers. Monroe deftly cocked the gun, the glaze over his eyes a clear warning. Everyone ducked.

Everyone except Alex. He couldn't seem to stop watching. So he saw everything – the fear in Monroe's eyes, the despair, the desperation, and then the resolution. Suddenly Alex knew what was going to happen next, but he couldn't look away from the man he'd so underestimated. He watched in a sort of stunned fascination as the General lifted the gun to rest against the side of his head.

Monroe wasn't just crazy. He was suicidal.

As the desperate man before him put his finger on the trigger, Alex couldn't stop thinking about a sweet little blonde bitch who was just about to lose her last defender/protector. Because Charlotte Matheson sure as Hell wasn't going to last long in the Hamilton Republic. Alex would make sure of that…

Worried his thoughts were straying too far ahead, he forced his attention back to his current victory. Almost-victory. Lips twitching up into a small, dark smile that no one else saw, Alex waited patiently for the gunshot that would kill the Monroe Republic and hand him the empire on a silver plate.

A collective shout went out from the men when Monroe pulled the trigger. The hammer clicked, and the gun fired-

-But a second later their General was still standing.

Alex's smile withered to nothing but shock. And then rage – masked as shock.

In a moment, a rush of bodies blocked his view of the General. The soldiers, free from their stupor and fear, had found the courage to finally restrain their Commander-in-Chief, before he tried to kill himself again.

Alex surged to his feet, still just a few feet away from the man, but desperate to see what happened next. He shoved his way forward under the pretext of concern, trying to remember not to injure any of the men he would soon lead while doing so.

Monroe didn't react when his men first laid hold of him. Two officers – one of them a very pale and serious-looking Forbes – had pinned his arms behind his back, and another was trying to get the General to look at him, with no success.

"We need to get him inside his tent," Forbes said, his eyes quickly scanning the crowd of wary soldiers that had begun to gather around their commander. "Now." Alex followed his gaze. The men weren't saying anything, but their eyes said it all – they couldn't trust their General now, couldn't trust that he wasn't completely crazy, and couldn't trust that he wouldn't try it again.

A warm, pleasant feeling settled in Alex's chest. He forced himself to trip on a soldiers feet, and he fell back down to the ground where Monroe had cornered him. He coughed deliberately, pretending to choke on the dust he'd fallen into, drawing the attention of the men around him. Many of them turned from watching Forbes and the others trying to lead the General away and shifted their attention to Alex, who was still on the ground, where Monroe had nearly murdered him in cold blood. More than one soldier offered a helpful hand to Alex, and he pulled himself up to stand beside them. Slowly, them men began to circle around Alex, muttering what the Hell was that about? and why would he want to kill you, Alex?

Instead of answering them right away, Alex looked pointedly at the small procession stopped just outside the safety of the General's tent. One of the other two men had taken Forbes' place at Monroe's left shoulder so that Forbes could try to reason with a now nearly-feral Monroe. He was shouting, cursing, biting, and clawing at his captors, his chilling eyes still fixed on his gun, which had fallen to the ground in all the confusion.

Seeing his chance, Alex took it. He walked forward, secretly gratified when the crown of men around him parted respectfully to make way. When he reached Monroe's gun he scooped it up and weighed it in his hands. Then, looking directly at his General – who'd fallen strangely silent as he tracked Alex's movements – Alex carefully tucked the gun into the waistband of his pants. Even across the short distance separating them, Alex could see what it did to him – to Monroe.

His fevered eyes dimmed and the great man seemed to cave in on himself. The proud shoulders slumped, and the infamous gaze lost its focus. Alex waited while the fight drained out of their leader, leaving nothing behind but a shell.

Monroe didn't say a word when Forbes and the other two finally pulled him into his tent.

Turning his back on the ridiculous scene, he faced the men – now gathered around him, looking dazed and confused. Alex searched their faces, hoping to see a measure of the same disgust he felt.

He wasn't disappointed.

Alex was fighting a smile. It hadn't taken much, just a few leading questions, a few pointed hints, and Monroe's own men were ready to turn against him. Not all of them were happy about it, but most were able to see reason.

The writing on the wall clear to everyone. If the Republic was going to make it, especially now after Texas had handily taken down the Patriot forces, it needed a strong leader. Not a broken, obsessive, and insane man like Sebastian Monroe.

So he needed to go.

"We can't just overthrow the President!" A young officer – something Rogers – was holding his head in his hands, fingers combing distractedly through his blonde waves. Obviously gathering up his courage, the boy suddenly leapt to his feet, trying to address Hamilton and the rest of the men at the same time. "You don't know for sure that he won't recover. We can't just give up on him."

"Like he hasn't already given up on us? The bastard put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. I think that counts as a resignation." The voice rose from somewhere in the crowd of soldiers, all gathered on the far side of camp to decide what to do about Monroe. Most of the officers had long since retreated into their own tents after Forbes had refused them access to Monroe. The rest of the men were restless. They wanted answers. They wanted someone to fix the problem living right under their noses.

And Alex was only too happy to give them what they wanted

The men all nodded in assent, some grumbling something about how the same thing had happened in the Old Republic. Monroe had lost his shit - maybe he hadn't been suicidal then, but he'd been crazy alright – and then the people had lost faith in him.

It was really a miracle Monroe'd managed to scrape together a New Republic in light of his rather dismal record. But that's what being a war hero will do for you. Everyone was so grateful after he'd helped Texas put an end to the Patriots, most of the citizens of the old Republic had been ready to welcome back their leader with open arms. After all, maybe Monroe hadn't exactly been a benevolent dictator, but he had created order out of chaos – and sometimes, that's all you can ask for.

But if a better option came along, you'd be a fool not to take it.

Cutting off whatever idealistic response Rogers had hoped to share with the group, Alex began the subtle task of showing them a better option.

"It's a sad day for the Republic." He let his words hang, knowing everyone's eyes were fixed solely on him, hanging on his every word. As the first victim of their President's most recent decent into madness, they all thought of him as having a special sort of authority on the subject. Alex wasn't about to let that go to waste.

"I've only know the President personally for about a year." Alex paused, and looked around, meeting many of their gazes until he landed on Rogers. The young man was looking up at him with a desperate, pleading expression. Alex molded his lips into a sad smile. "He's a remarkable man. He's led this Republic through war and peace – he's done as well for us as any one man can do. He's given the Republic his life…" The men waited anxiously, their hearts quickening with guilt at this unexpected praise for Sebastian Monroe. Alex let their consciences stew for a moment before reaching out a hand to grip young Rogers' shoulder. The boy glanced up at him, not embarrassed by/unashamed of the sheen of tears in his eyes. Keeping his hold on Rogers, he turned to address the rest of the soldiers.

"And now, President Monroe has given the Republic his mind as well. You're right lieutenant." He turned back to Rogers, infusing his voice with practiced sympathy. "We don't know if he'll ever recover. And even if he does, for how long? How long until he tries to kill someone else? How long before he becomes as paranoid as he was during the old Republic?"

A low, uneasy murmur rippled through the men's ranks. It was no wonder why – even the infantrymen had heard the story of Captain Jeremy Baker. Whisperings of his tragic death had seeped into the very fabric of the New Republic. While many civilians had simply accepted it, to avoid unraveling the rosy image they had of their returning ruler, it remained a topic frequently and quietly discussed among the soldiers themselves.

Alex, himself, could never understand what the problem was. Monroe had suspected Baker of treason. The man had been a potential threat. Why shouldn't he have killed the man?

Mentally shaking himself, Alex knew he could never be so blunt with the men. They saw Baker as one of them – a tragic hero, cut down by the very man he'd fought to protect. Monroe on the other hand, was something of a mystery to the men in his vast army. He was a symbol of respect, but also of fear and loathing. He was beloved and despised in equal measure by those who knew him best and by those who knew him not at all.

Monroe was an enigma to his people. And, perhaps for the last time, it was going to work against him.

"I, for one, don't want to watch Monroe ruin his own legacy, and I can't watch him take the Republic down with him if that's where he's headed." Alex took an exaggerated breath – even looked up at the sky, jaw clenched, eyes troubled – pretending to struggle for words The men leaned forward, brows furrowed deep in concentration.

No one wanted to say what they were all thinking. But Alex was tired of waiting. He wanted action, and the men were finally ready to listen. They all knew that something had to be done about Monroe.

"I think it's time to-"

A sudden crash of thunder drew every man's gaze to the sky – but there were no clouds in sight. Instead, a perfectly clear, mid-morning sky was looking down at them. But the good weather did nothing to settle the unease that had gripped them all so suddenly. Every man, his eyes downcast, began to mutter some excuse to his comrade before quietly slipped away from the group until only Alex and young Rogers were left. Staring after the men, Alex hardly noticed the lieutenant's presence in his fury.

He'd been so close. Just a few moments more and-

He looked down and saw Rogers' surprisingly keen eyes staring back at him. Quickly schooling his face into a mask of pity and conscientious grief, he gave the young man a sympathetic smile. But Rogers' expression didn't change. Instead, the young lieutenant got up suddenly, forcing Alex to take a step back in surprise. Eyes narrow and watchful, Rogers looked far from the naïve boy Alex had always believed him to be.

Rogers took his time, studying Alex in silence for nearly a minute. Alex let him – it was better to have it all out in the open to begin with if they were going to have a problem. Bracing himself, Alex prepared to charm the young man, make him question his own sanity for ever suspecting anything untoward of his commanding officer just because he'd try to fill the void Monroe had recently left…

But it never came to that. After all his silence, Rogers sighed and dropped his head.

"It sounds…" He glanced up, catching Alex's eyes. Something serious lurked behind the boy's open expression, but Alex didn't have the time to place it. Rogers' mouth tipped up into a half-smile, shifting his eyes to glance up at the empty sky.

"... like a storm's coming." When his eyes dropped back to meet Alex's, they were once again deadly serious. Inclining his head a fraction, young Rogers kept his eyes squarely on his superior officer.

"You take care, sir." Without another word, Rogers saluted and took his leave.

For a few long minutes, Alex didn't move. Something about the lieutenant gave him pause - he seemed far more perceptive than Alex would've ever given him credit for.

For Rogers' sake, Alex hoped the young man wouldn't prove to be a problem. It would be a shame to have to kill him too.

Loyal soldiers are so hard to come by these days.

Chuckling under his breath, Alex absently pulled Monroe's gun from his waistband and held it in his palms. It was a shame really that Monroe hadn't been sane enough to load the damn thing before trying to kill himself.

A damn shame.

Rolling his eyes, Alex consoled himself with the fact that at least he had a new gun. After a moment, he broke into a smile. And, he recalled, the look on Monroe's face when I took his gun away was priceless.

Savoring the memory, Alex pulled out his own ammo. He hadn't been able to get rid of Monroe today, but he'd decided on the gun he was going to use when he finally got around to blowing the bastard's brains out.

Killing a man with his own gun - there was a sort of poetic justice to it... Or at least irony.

But first he had to make sure it worked. It wouldn't do to have the gun jamming when he was facing down the General. lost in his dreams of that day, Alex was hardly paying attention as he unloaded Monroe's gun, letting the bullets inside fall harmlessly into his hand...

Attention snapping into focus, Alex's cold eyes fixed on the the now-empty gun and bullets in his hands.

Monroe had loaded the gun. Alex gritted his teeth.

Monroe. Should. Be. Dead.

"Oh, Alex, we thought you were so much smarter than this."

Without thinking, Alex had dropped Monroe's gun and drawn his own before whipping around to face the speaker. Something about the voice... so calm, so confident, so... inhuman, made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

But when he looked down the barrel of his gun, all Alex could see was a beautiful young woman staring back at him without the smallest hint of fear, despite the fact that she was being held at gunpoint.

Her bright red hair, large green eyes, and stunning figure would've made more of an impression on Alex had he not seen them all before...

"You...?" The woman who'd come to him last night. He'd just assumed she was one of the prostitutes that often travelled with the battalion. But... something about her, even then, had given him pause. He just hadn't stopped long enough to consider what it might be. He hadn't even thought about it again when he'd left her lying in his bed this morning.

Eyes widening, Alex looked the woman over again, his hands tightening involuntarily on the gun when even recognition did little to dispel his sudden unease. But the woman only smirked at him, batting her eyes at him in a silent challenge.

"Surprised?" Her voice was even stranger and more beautiful than he remembered. So perfect and bewitching. So alien and cold.

"Who are you?" His voice sounded harsh in the sudden silence. The woman looked at him, all innocence and mockery.

"We're the ones who just saved Sebastian Monroe's life."

His brain refused to process that at first. But after a moment, more than anything Alex wanted to know how that was possible- but there was another, more important question that had to be answered first. Keeping the gun trained on her, Alex forced his voice to come out level, although he felt unusually nervous.

"On the off chance you're not crazy as shit, why would you even bother?"

Without skipping a beat, the woman flicked her hand and the gun flew out of Alex's hands and into the air, until it landed nearly a hundred feet away. His heart nearly stopped. But instead of freezing, Alex lunged for Monroe's gun, laying in the dust where he'd dropped it. In a frantic attempt, Alex tried to load the gun, scrabbling for the bullets that had fallen from Monroe's gun-

But his movements suddenly became sluggish and clumsy, until he could no longer even support the gun in his hands. He watched in helpless terror as it fell back to the ground. Even his voice shriveled to nothing, and his now-scattered thoughts remained trapped inside his head.

He wasn't sure how, but he somehow remained upright, sitting back on his knees, his head hanging down. Soon enough, a pair of bright yellow converse ambled up to stand before him. A soft hand followed, gripping his short hair and pulling his head back so that he could see her. When his eyes met hers, he tried to mask the fear. Personal experience had shown him that fear was like an aphrodisiac predators.

Fear was certainly what had always done it for him.

But from the size of her smile, he knew she could still see it.

"There's no need to be so rude, Alex. We're going to be on the same side after all." She smiled down at him, her hand sliding down to cradle the side of his face. "And don't worry. Yes, I am controlling you, and yes, it is only temporary. Unless you try and use that gun again." Taking a moment, she examined his face. Then, her other hand came down to rest on his left temple, and he immediately felt lightheaded. She, on the other hand, only seemed to grow more radiant, her smile rivaling the sun in it's brilliance. After almost a minute of whatever it was she was doing to him, Alex knew he was going to pass out. Desperately, he tried to reach up and rip her hand away from his head - he needed to get away from her. Now. But his arms wouldn't move.

He couldn't move.

Just when he was about to lose consciousness, she laughed lightly, clearly enjoying herself. Suddenly, she moved her hand away from his temple and entwined it once again in his dark hair.

As he slowly began to regain awareness, she continued, trusting he would listen.

"As to your other question, it's quite simple, Alex. Monroe can't die because we're not done with him yet." Somehow, Alex must've still managed to look confused even in his controlled state because the woman rolled her eyes and smiled condescendingly at him, making his skin crawl. "You humans - you're all so short-sighted. You've no idea what you could be... what I could make you into..." Shaking her head, she fixed her enigmatic eyes squarely on him, her full lips turning up into a coy smirk. "We've been... poking around inside your General's head for the past for months. Nothing he would notice, just leaving a few suggestions here and there. Letting him act on them. Bringing to life the occasional figment of his imagination to help lead him on if he gets too far off course." Brushing her thumb against his lips, she leaned in closer studying his eyes and expression with clinical interest. "It's really been quite a interesting experiment. But's it's time to move onto the next stage." She touched his lips again, and this time he was able to move them in response.

"The 'next stage?' The next stage of what?" Alex's sudden ability to speak again didn't seem to surprise the woman. Instead, she simply smiled at him slightly, her eyes clearly saying she was not about to answer him. Suddenly determined to get at least one answer out of the bizarre exchange, Alex pushed her.

"You still haven't answered my question-" Her expression became so chilling, he stopped, his tone shifting from demanding to pleading in an instant. "Who are you?"

The woman smiled kindly at him, but it was still enough to spark an instinctive fear within even someone like Alex. There was something off about her. Something powerful, but so wrong...

"We're the Nano, Alex. And we have a very important job for you."