Setting the Trap
Solaris Industries, Seattle, United States of America
Saudia smiled as she looked out the window. It had been a long time since she'd had any professional reason to visit Seattle, so in a grim way, she was glad Matthew had requested her to visit. She did want to wander around the city a bit, but was anticipating that business would likely take all her available time here.
The Chronicler was going to be the one who went sightseeing this time. Sitting beside her in regular civilian attire, he would easily blend in with the crowd and was going to be taking a few weeks to…do whatever he planned. She didn't fully know what he intended to accomplish, but he'd assured her he only wanted a few weeks. It was a possible security risk, of course. But given that he'd done similar excursions this in the past without incident, she knew the risk was low.
The taxi they were riding in pulled to a stop and she looked out the window up at the headquarters of Solaris Industries. A modest sized skyscraper in comparison to the rest of Seattle, it was nevertheless an impressive building with the slightly shaded glass windows encasing it. A near literal glass palace. There were no distinguishing marks on the building itself, except the company logo near the bottom.
It matched up with the persona Matthew had built up around himself and his company; Open, transparent and modest.
"Be careful if you're going inside," their driver warned as he stopped, looking into the mirror back at them. "Looks like they have company."
Saudia looked toward the entrance and saw a large mob of people outside, some holding up signs and others yelling slogans and chants. Her lip curled up as she watched the crowd. Protesters. Not much of a surprise to be honest. Having one of the largest weapons manufacturers in one of the most liberal states in the country was bound to attract the attention of anti-gun, anti-war and liberal groups.
More so given the current debate on gun regulation. She personally wasn't informed on the specifics of the issue, but was definitely aware that it was happening. Matthew was the expert on American politics.
"Is this common?" The Chronicler asked as he unbuckled, moving over by her.
Their driver snorted. "You been living under a rock or something? Yeah, this is pretty common. Especially with what happened a few days ago."
The Chronicler raised an eyebrow at the driver, clearly curious as to what did happen, but shrugged and kept silent. "You want to get out here?" Saudia asked, knowing it wasn't the best place to disembark for him.
"Yes," he answered, surprising her. "Perhaps I'll learn something."
Saudia shrugged, it was his choice and she had work to do. Opening the door, she stepping out into the bright sunlight. Clouds on the horizon indicated a storm coming soon, but she'd be inside long before it hit. She'd paid the driver in advance, so he drove off a few seconds later.
"So long, Saudia," the Chronicler said, putting on his sunglasses. "I hope your meeting is productive."
"So do I," she answered with a nod. "Come back here when you're finished. Matthew will make sure you get back to the Bastion safely."
"I know," he assured her with a smile. "Now, I have some things to do." With that he walked off into the crowd which was slowly becoming larger. Taking a closer look at the participants, she found it mildly interesting that it was a fairly diverse group. Many times, protesters ended up being largely one demographic or another. This particular groups seemed a healthy mix of black, white and Hispanic ethnicities.
She looked back at the entrance to the building. Several Solaris guards had surrounded the perimeter, keeping the protesters at bay. While not all employees at Solaris Industries were EXALT, every single one of the guards were and they'd likely recognize her, so she doubted she'd be held up very long.
The crowd had completely taken over the front and she saw twelve Solaris guards guarding the entrance with their hands clasped together in front and in firm stances. They wore a variation of their dress uniforms, black suits and pants. They closely resembled the American Secret Service, minus the sunglasses, which had not doubt been a deliberate choice by Matthew. They lacked the bandanna for obvious reasons and instead of displaying the EXALT emblem, there was instead the Solaris emblem.
As they were registered security, the guards were armed with Solaris pistols and additional non-lethal riot control measures. Legally, they could wield assault weapons, but Matthew had decided against that as he felt it would only escalate matters. It was also an image and political matter for him as well, since he was seen as one of the more reasonable people within the whole gun debate. Arming his security with automatic weapons would at least give the impression he was choosing a side; making it extremely difficult to keep his position neutral, as he'd intended.
Now, the guards had nothing to fear if the crowd got out of control. They had full license to defend themselves and the headquarters by any means with the full legal backing of Solaris Industries. Saudia had no doubt two or three Solaris guards could handle this crowd with the right equipment, let alone twelve. Not to mention that the building security included deployable turrets in the event of an emergency.
She decided going along the far side would attract the least amount of attention so she carefully made her way around the shouting crowd and approached the guard. "Authorized personnel only," he told her as she approached.
"Saudia Vyandar," she answered, looking him in the eyes. "I'm expected."
His eyes widened, but otherwise didn't react. She admired his control. "Apologies, Director," he greeted, inclining his head. "You may enter. Do you require an escort?"
"I'll manage," she shook her head, eying the crowd going more agitated. "Besides, you have enough to deal with."
The barest glimmer of a smile crossed his lips. "I would be more concerned for their safety, Director. If they continue to grow and think they have a numbers advantage, we'll have to put a few more down."
"Then for their sake, I hope they calm down," she muttered, looking into the crowd. "Might I ask what brought this about?"
"Oh this?" He shrugged. "It wasn't a shooting this time, believe it or not. Solaris Industries made an arrangement with the State of Washington to provide the state police with equipment and weapons. There's talk that if it proceeds without incident, we might be providing weapons to the police on a national scale."
Saudia frowned. "Why is that an issue?"
He looked at her, frowning. "The situation isn't quite as simple as you think. I believe Matthew will be able to explain the situation better. He knows more about it than me."
Saudia nodded. "I will. What is your name?"
"Brandon Solaris, Director."
She inclined her head. "Thank you, Brandon. Matthew will hear of your service."
"Thank you, Director," he answered with a simple nod. "May your meeting be productive."
With that she walked into the building. The reception area was standard, tile floors with marble tables and desks resting on top. There was some furniture in the lobby, but nothing she really felt the need to examine closely. Very little manufacturing took place here and was instead mostly used for administrative purposes, but she knew Matthew had several floors dedicated to research and development.
But she figured he would be in his office and headed to the elevator that would take her there. He'd put it at the very top, so it was several minutes before she finally arrived. Stepping out into the carpeted hallway, she tried recalling the way. Yes, directly at the end if she was remembering correctly.
Matthew had made his office take up about half the floor, though admittedly, only a fraction was actually "office" space. He'd essentially made his house here and the rest of the space included a bedroom, bathroom and a small kitchen. So she approached the entrance rather quickly.
As was expected for the owner of such a large corporation, there was a desk in front of the door, though no receptionist at present. Instead, guarding the door was a woman in full Solaris combat attire. Black Kevlar-padded pants and a combat vest and boots, her attire was similar to that of the American SWAT troopers. The black bulletproof shield resting on her back only reinforced that image.
A Solaris-issue assault rifle was held in her gauntlets and Saudia noted several knives and a pistol strapped to her belt. Though she lacked a helmet, her piercing gaze was enough to give would-be intruders second thoughts if not stop them outright. She wasn't overly tall like Saudia, but of an average height.
The white lighting illuminated her alabaster skin and raven hair even more. Despite her demeanor, she did have a kind face behind her foreboding weaponry. Bright eyes, unblemished skin and her lips that showed dimples whenever she smiled contrasted with the woman in combat gear.
She noticed her approaching and relaxed a bit. "Director, welcome," she greeted, her accent betraying her English origins.
"Hello to your too, Lidia," Saudia returned with a smile. Lidia Solaris, Head of Solaris Industry Security, former SWAT officer and wife of Matthew Solaris inclined her head in response.
"Matthew is inside," she told Saudia, turning to open the door. "I presume you know the way to his study?"
"Door on the left, correct?" She recalled.
"Correct," Lidia confirmed. "I will ensure neither of you are disturbed."
"I appreciate that," Saudia thanked, then paused. She probably wouldn't have much time to speak afterwards. "How are the children?"
"Excellent," Lidia answered, actually displaying her beautiful smile. "Both are down in the testing range with some prototypes. Both are becoming quite proficient with them."
"Taking after their mother," Saudia complemented with a smile. "You should be proud."
"I am," Lidia answered, adjusting the grip on her rifle. "Although I do think Riley is more interested in the business side of things. Matthew and I've been talking of including her in the business more."
"If you think she can handle it, let her," Saudia suggested. "Never too young to start."
"That's where we're at," Lidia agreed with a nod. "But we'll see."
"Well, I suppose I should speak to Matthew now," Saudia said reluctantly. "But it was nice to chat for a bit."
"It was," Lidia agreed, resigned. "Sadly, our duty comes first. Hopefully once we remove XCOM and the aliens, things will calm down."
That was the hope, though even with XCOM and the aliens gone, they'd still have to reestablish control over the rest of the world. A task that would likely end up being even more time consuming. Well, they had a lot to do before even beginning to consider that. Saudia walked into the official office and took the first door on the left.
It opened to reveal the study of Matthew Solaris and where he conducted the majority of his true work. It was very lavish, with ornamented carpets, drapes and furniture. Bookshelves lined one side of the wall, though a good portion of the shelves were empty. He never added a book unless he'd fully read it and liked it. Naturally, this resulted in the majority of books being fiction or documents on the history of EXALT.
A holotable sat in the middle of the room, Matthew standing beside it, looking down at what was displayed. Across from him, on the non-bookshelf side were several large screens displaying either information or American news channels. All were muted at the moment as Matthew had his attention elsewhere.
As she got closer, she saw the holotable was displaying a map of the United States, different states variously colored for some reason. Matthew turned as she approached and smiled. "Director!" He greeted jovially. "Glad you made it."
"I wasn't sure," she joked as she walked up beside him. "You have quite a crowd outside."
He snorted good-naturedly. "A nuisance, consisting of well-intentioned, but ultimately wrong people. Fortunately, their resolve crumbles when confronted by the opposite side. I'll go out later and calm them down." His lips curled into a satisfying smile. "I do wonder how they'll treat me after actually speaking to me."
Saudia shook her head. "So tell me, what's going on? One of your people, Brandon, told me a bit but said I should speak to you."
"This particular situation stems from the deal Solaris Industries just signed," Matthew answered, rubbing his forehead. "I presume Brandon told you?"
"Yes," she confirmed. "Though it seems an odd issue to be protesting."
"It would be, but you haven't visited the states in a while," Matthew agreed, shaking his head. "Though the reason this all started was a string of instances of police officers shooting unarmed, or surrendering suspects. Most of them were minorities and that alone stirred people into a frenzy. Several went viral on various social media sites and within days thousands of people are calling for justice for the slain victims."
Saudia frowned, glancing over at Matthew. "Isn't that a bit premature? Especially if the source is social media?"
"Where any clip can be made to fit an agenda? Of course," Matthew agreed with a nod. "But these people aren't thinking rationally or clearly. They watch the clip of someone getting shot and automatically make snap judgments. Some of the clips were legitimate, and some were either edited severely or taken way out of context. The end result is America now has a large and vocal group that despises the police and believes they're racists, and they're joined by the growing group calling for police demilitarization."
Well this was interesting. "They don't want police to have access to military equipment?"
"Nope, or any other sort of advanced weaponry" Matthew sighed. "But what they fail to realize is that this isn't the 1950's. The small-town neighborhood cop doesn't exist anymore. Police exist to enforce the law, not to make friends. Times have become more dangerous and as weapons and technology advance, the police must adapt as well," He laced his fingers together. "Personally, I think it's mostly fear; they don't like people in authority being more dangerous than them."
"I assume there's another side to this?" Saudia asked, looking down at the holotable. "The pro-police side or some such equivalent?"
"Pretty much," Matthew confirmed, crossing his arms in resignation. "This larger issue here is that the neutral ground is quickly fading. Both sides are drawing lines that don't leave much room for talking or compromise. I've stayed neutral so far, but I've got a lot of pressure from both sides simply because of my position."
She knew he was telling the truth. If there was anyone who embodied neutrality, at least publicly, it was Matthew and Solaris Industries. Unlike most weapons manufacturers, his political affiliations were surprisingly bipartisan. He had surprised the media by being the only national weapons manufacturer not to become affiliated with the NRA and the Republican Party. Several times he'd backed legislation which he felt, and publically stated, was necessary and smart.
He'd built himself up as a voice of reason, a man willing to see both sides of an issue and made frequent appearances on various media outlets to give his opinion on various issues he was involved in. Although he never forgot the overarching goal of EXALT, she was aware of his much smaller goal: he wanted to supplement the NRA as the most influential voice of the gun lobby.
He personally despised the organization with a passion, and at least according to what she'd seen, he was well on his way to replacing them. The NRA had hated being publically refused, of course and had launched a smear campaign to discredit him. An incredibly foolish move, as they had no clue who they ended up dealing with.
Together with Elizabeth, Matthew had ensured that the organization's corruption was brought to light and had emerged with more political influence than ever. The NRA still existed, of course, but they'd ended their crusade on him and now mostly pretended Solaris Industries didn't exist. And now, as Matthew was the only one even sort of willing to compromise on weapon legislation, he had the attention, if not support of the Democratic Party, as well as the more moderate elements of the Republicans who were thankful to have an alternative.
She was once again thankful he'd declined to participate in the Rex Fecit when her predecessor had resigned and instead stated he wanted to focus on increasing EXALT's influence over North America. She'd have hated to kill or discredit him, if she'd been able to at all. Matthew, along with Elizabeth, were the only two within EXALT who she felt would have been able to beat her for the position of Director.
But luckily, neither of them had decided to take part, letting their brothers and sisters try for the position of Director. Had the families not been forbidden from intermarrying, she was positive that she'd have chosen him as her husband. He was principled, intelligent and above all, believed fully in the goals of EXALT. Though if she had, she'd never have gotten to know Ethan and that would be an even greater loss. Regardless, Lidia was a lucky woman.
This issue regarding the police was interesting, but there was one question she had. "Why is this getting traction now?" She demanded. "I'd have thought an alien invasion would limit this sort of public unrest."
"Simply put, because they have yet to feel the effects of an alien attack," Matthew explained. "They've been spared major attacks so this whole issue is…I don't want to say a foreign affair, but it's the best description of their outlook." His lips curled up. "It also helped reassure the people that the situation was under control when Germany beat back the alien influence and the alien dreadnought was destroyed."
He looked back at the holotable. "Another reason is that this was a growing issue long before the aliens invaded in the first place. You really think people are just going to forget their cause and put their differences aside because our survival of a species is at stake?"
It was depressing how accurate that actually was. "Maybe?" She muttered hopefully. Well, that answer did make sense, somewhat. Another example of how the average human was driven by emotion, not reason. "Back to the issue at hand, I presume that the Republicans and Democrats have aligned predictably?"
"Pretty much," Matthew sighed, his lips curling into an unamused smile. "And with the recent string of shootings, the majority of Democrats want to increase gun regulations and completely overhaul the way the police conduct themselves. The Republicans haven't really made things better by flatly siding with the police in all instances and ignoring the issues that are present within the system. Let alone actually trying to reach a compromise on gun legislation."
Saudia frowned. "How many shootings have happened?"
"Enough to cause a public outcry," Matthew explained, tapping several buttons on the holotable and the holographic headlines appeared by her. "Three in particular have stood out. The first was the massacre of a church in North Carolina. The entire congregation was essentially wiped out in a rather impressive coordinated attack," he pursed his lips. "The final death toll was one hundred-thirty-seven."
"That's terrible," Saudia sighed sadly. "But if it was coordinated…?"
"They were ex-Cartel," Matthew answered grimly. "I'm assuming they betrayed the Cartel and decided to go out in a suicide-by-cop way than face the Cartel's retribution," his tone hardened. "All of them were killed."
"Unfortunate," Saudia stated grimly. "They might have provided us with information."
"Perhaps," Matthew's dark tone didn't diminish. "Though I would have ensured their death one way or another."
"And the others?" Saudia pressed, looking at the headlines.
"The Disney shooting followed," Matthew explained. "A woman somehow smuggled an assault weapon up to the ticket booths and started opening fire. Thirty died and a whole host were injured," he began tapping the holotable absentmindedly. "She was a former employee, so the accepted reasoning is revenge, though very poorly executed. She was captured and is currently on trial."
"Are you planning on getting involved?" Saudia asked.
"She used a Solaris rifle," Matthew stated grimly. "I've already publically given my statement of sympathy and at the same time encouraged a fair trial," the ghost of a smile played on his lips. "Privately, I'm going to ensure she gets the death penalty."
Saudia frowned. "Are you certain she wasn't mentally insane when she did this? The courts won't give the death penalty if she is."
"I'm glad you asked," Matthew told her his tone artificially light, walking over to his desk and pulled out a file. "Fortunately, I know quite a few doctors who are willing to take the stand and ensure any insanity plea fails. And in the event that it doesn't…" he shrugged. "Accidents happen in prison and there are many who would do what the courts are too cowardly to carry out."
She understood the sentiment, even if she personally considered it harsh. "I'm sure life in prison is harsh enough," she said, not quite willing to completely endorse him.
"For you, perhaps," he answered, shaking his head. "Anyway, the latest shooting was in response to an instance where two police officers shooting four unarmed African-Americans in Texas. In that instance, the police were completely at fault and were arrested," he rested his chin on his fist. "Unfortunately, that wasn't good enough for some people. A group of four African-Americans responded by going into one of the wealthier districts and shooting anyone they could. It was another well-planned attack and one that had clearly been in the works for some time. A daycare was shot up along with several families murdered. The final death toll was fifty-five."
Saudia felt immense sadness at that. "Who were they?" She finally asked.
"They were part of a small black supremacist group," Matthew explained shaking his head. "I hadn't honestly considered them a legitimate threat until it happened. A mistake I won't repeat."
"Were they killed as well?"
"Yeah," Matthew sighed. "But what really made the news was how the police responded. That black supremacist group no longer exists. They arrested nearly everyone and shot the rest. This was done in conjunction with the National Guard as well."
"The President had to have authorized it then," Saudia noted. "That could backfire."
"The dear Madam President is not exactly concerned with political opinion at this point," Matthew pointed out grimly. "She's more focused on doing what she believes is right. A shame she had to be the President now when we're finally making moves. I rather liked her."
"So was there fallout?" Saudia asked.
"Not as much as you would think," Matthew answered. "Though it didn't help race relations much. A good portion of the black community wasn't happy with the so-called "Pre-emptive attack."
"So," Saudia walked around the table until she was facing him. "The big question: How can we use this?"
"I suppose that is that is a valid question," Matthew answered humorously. "But yes, there are several ways we can take advantage. I said we have a chance to take control of America and I was serious. Now, that is truer of one path than another."
Saudia raised an eyebrow curiously. "Explain."
"There are two paths open to us," Matthew explained, shutting off the holograms displaying the headlines and replaced with images of people who she was unfamiliar with. "Both hinge on the upcoming presidential election. Campaigning will begin in the coming months and both sides are outlining their respective agendas."
"The election itself isn't until next year, correct?" Saudia recalled, looking at the pictures. "This seems early, even for American politics."
"Because it is," Matthew agreed. "It can mostly be attributed to the leadership in both parties despising President Treduant. The Democrats dislike her for obvious reasons and the Republicans feel her administration has been damaging to the party as a whole. Since she's also begun ignoring the Republican leadership, it's only distanced her more. They were lucky she agreed not to run for reelection."
"Hmm," Saudia pondered that. "What's your impression of her? Would she be useful to us?"
"Nicole Treduant is someone who sadly wouldn't be interested in our goals," Matthew answered sadly. "Our influence on her has been limited simply because she is more personally driven than most presidents. But her authority is quickly fading and I suggest we move onto more promising subjects."
"Noted," Saudia nodded. "You have people scoped out?"
"Of course," Matthew looked slightly miffed that she even asked that question. "There are five candidates, two Democrat and three Republican who I believe have the best chance."
He raised a finger. "But first, I'd better explain the paths open to us. The alien invasion is going to be a central campaign issue, one both sides will try to say they'll handle better than the opposition. The Republicans are going to push this as far as they can; the Democrats will make it central point as well, though I feel they can be influenced to focus more on domestic issues."
He looked at her. "So, the decision the must be made is what kind of America will be most useful to us. Our alliance with the aliens will not last and when we make our move, it would be best if we were as ready as possible to repel them."
He began pacing. "A Republican presidency would mean a more stable America, militarily, and allow a more coordinated defense of the aliens. I also see potential for the introduction of more authoritarian measures. Which would make it easier for the populace to transition when we assume control of the country."
"I doubt the public would like that," Saudia commented. "Americans in particular are rather finicky when it comes to their freedoms, even when it's for their own good. Although," she looked up in thought. "Fear is a powerful motivator."
"That it is," Matthew agreed, eyes twinkling. "And with an increase in attacks on American cities, I'd imagine people would be willing to give up some freedoms for additional security. Temporarily, of course."
She smiled as she saw what he meant. "I'd imagine the aliens would see the benefit of striking one of the most powerful nations. Though I expect there's a downside here."
"We wouldn't exert as much influence as I'd like," Matthew admitted, frowning down at the holotable. "Bringing the country fully under our control would take much longer. Potentially years."
"Why longer?" She asked. "Would it not be similar with a Democratic presidency?"
"Not if things go according to plan," Matthew answered. "Because instead of focusing the election on the invasion, we turn it towards domestic issues. Police brutality, gun control, degrading race relations, states' rights, those sort of issues. People are emotionally charged now and we can take full advantage of that."
"By making things worse." Saudia stated, getting an idea what his plan was.
"Exactly," Matthew nodded, sounding satisfied. "We push further. Instigate more domestic terrorism, engineer more police shootings which will lead to riots and violent protests. All we need is to get people angry enough."
There was merit in this idea. "We'll have to pick our targets carefully," she warned. "How sure are you that this would work?"
"As an experiment, I decided to stage one of these shootings," Matthew explained wryly. "Elizabeth was a great help here. She made it look very convincing; anyway, I released it to the larger social media sites and lo and behold, everyone acted exactly as predicted. Soon the majority of the internet was calling for the head of this fictional officer. It was rather amusing to watch the absolute silence that followed once it was revealed it was fake."
"I feel it would be more convincing if it was real," Saudia muttered, crossing her arms. "Real bodies have a greater impact."
"That they do," Matthew agreed. "And no fear. I knew enough people to ensure that these continue happening. Those targeting minorities are the most impactful."
"If we're looking for more violent protests, which is the most militant?" She asked.
"The black community for sure," Matthew answered firmly. "They'd be the easiest to use. They're far more willing to take action than the Hispanic or Asian communities; they'd also get support from the anti-police groups as well."
"So how is mass chaos going to ensure we control America?" Saudia demanded, crossing her arms.
"Simply put, as long as the aliens avoid America and the domestic situation worsens, that should be enough to put a Democrat in charge," Matthew continued. "And we get someone elected who will do whatever it took to fix the situation. And to make any meaningful change, they would have to either amend the constitution or use executive orders."
"Something that I don't imagine would go over very well." Saudia muttered.
"Ah, but that's exactly the point," Matthew explained with a smile. "Ideally, by this point America should be heavily divided and charged. Neutrality doesn't exist and half of the people demand change, the others demand things stay the same. Both sides double down on their agendas no matter how right or wrong they are."
"And if the president uses executive orders to force change…" Saudia murmured, beginning to see where he was going.
"…For example, to gut the police, military or amend and infringe on the second amendment, then people get angry," Matthew finished, looking satisfied. "And imagine more orders were passed, those further infringing on the rights of states. Not only would the Republican governors protest, but I can see several Democratic states having issues as well."
Saudia raised a hand. "You've built this up long enough. Get to the point."
"It's quite simple," Matthew answered, inclining his head. "Play our cards right and we could force a second American civil war."
Saudia blinked in surprise. "You honestly believe that's possible."
"It's certainly possible," Matthew confirmed. "Though it would admittedly take far more work and resources. But if it succeeds, we can shape the victors into the country we want America to be and not work within the confines of the system in place."
Something like that would be among the largest operations in EXALT history. Yet she had several reservations; they couldn't afford to pour almost all their resources into an operation on this scale and deal with the rest of the world. Not to mention there was a decent chance that this might not even work out as well as Matthew was hoping.
But the biggest issue for her was that this could potentially be a multi-year operation and she was fairly certain at that point that their alliance with the aliens would come to an end. In the scenario, a more unified America worked in their favor more than a divided one.
"It's ambitious," Saudia finally said. "Before I comment, I'd like to know your opinion."
"That largely depends on time," Matthew answered, observing the holotable. "I see little that could be done to speed up the elections, so we have a minimum of a year before we see any substantial progress. Thinking long-term, ensuring a Democratic president will allow us unprecedented control. But then we run into issues if our alliance falters or XCOM interferes further. In that case a Republican presidency would be preferable, and would ensure we retain some control if our plans for the aliens are disrupted."
Saudia nodded. "I don't think we can afford to wait years, much as it would benefit us. The world is changing daily and the aliens won't play by our rules willingly. We have to think towards the coming war, we can ensure control of America once the aliens are defeated."
"Then a Republican president it is," Matthew stated with a nod. "With that out of the way, we must choose a candidate to support."
"Who do we have?" Saudia asked as Matthew pulled up the portraits of the candidates.
"Former Navy Admiral Jonas Mallik," Matthew began, indicating an older man with a white beard and hair. "Out of our options, he is by far the most predictable. The alien invasion is the issue he's pushed the most and painted himself as the only one with the experience and resolve to defend America."
"Any issues or is he just a generic candidate?" Saudia asked, appraising the picture.
"He's a single issue candidate," Matthew explained. "Depending on who you ask, that's a good or bad thing. He's iffy on much policy outside of military. But as alien attacks increase across America, I think that people would be more willing to overlook his lack of domestic policy." He smiled. "Which gives us the opportunity to put people in his inner circle to shape it for him."
"Can he appeal to a broader demographic than just military and Republicans?" Saudia asked.
"Not really, and that's probably his greatest weakness," Matthew admitted. "He's not exactly diplomatic or open to negotiation, something else that is either a strength or weakness depending on who you ask. Our job would essentially painting him as the lesser evil to the Democrats and Independents."
"But he would militarily be the best option?" Saudia asked.
"Not in terms of strict military use," Matthew amended. "He would very much follow the rules of engagement and Geneva Conventions. No, I'd say that he'd be the easiest to control."
"Which could be useful later," Saudia nodded, liking the options already. "Who's next?"
"Kerry Valdez," Matthew continued, nodding towards a middle-aged Hispanic man with graying black hair. "Former governor of Georgia. A well-spoken and seemingly reasonable man who never really causes much controversy."
Saudia cocked her head. "Seemingly reasonable?"
"He's…hmm, how do I put this," Matthew paused dramatically. "He's a fanatic. Sort of. A Christian fundamentalist with some rather outdated societal views. You'd never tell it from the way he speaks, but listen to what he's saying and it's clear he considers himself some kind of messenger sent from God himself to fix things."
Saudia grimaced. "So he's a self-righteous, well-spoken politician. Wonderful."
"Now, now," Matthew chided lightly. "All politicians are self-righteous. Hell, both parties are incredibly self-righteous about their beliefs. Trust me," he smiled in self-deprecation. "After receiving calls telling me to kill myself simply because of what I do, I can assure you that self-righteousness exists beyond Christian fundamentalists."
"True, true," she agreed, shaking her head. Even if African politics were arguably more corrupt, they seemed more honest than what took place here. At least politicians in Africa didn't bother to hide that they were corrupt. "So, what advantage does he give us?"
"Militarily, he's the best option," Matthew explained. "I firmly believe he'll do whatever it takes to defend America and if we can control several of his Christian advisors, we will probably have a decent hold on policy. Though in his case, I suspect we'll have to rely on Congress to ensure that his proposals don't cause too much damage."
"So who is the third option?" Saudia asked.
"I think you've heard of her, actually," Matthew said, focusing on the third picture. "Kamili Rono."
Ah yes, she had heard of the Kenyan immigrant. The young diplomat had gained a reputation from participating in dozens of humanitarian projects, UN sponsored and otherwise. Interesting that she'd taken up politics, though it made sense. She could only do so much as one person, influence over a country would open up many more doors.
"What does she offer?" Saudia asked.
"Unity," Matthew answered instantly. "She would be a mediator and has the best chance to firmly unite the country than all of them. She's an excellent speaker who appeals to virtually all demographics. Provided we remove Democrat competition, I predict that she'd win by a landslide, maybe even without our intervention."
"Though I doubt she'd be the strongest in regards to military action," Saudia wondered. "She's stated she's a pacifist."
"Which is a major issue," Matthew agreed. "She'd reluctantly use military force, but it would be limited and she's driven by her conscience and what's best for the people. Admirable traits, but ones that don't serve us at the moment."
"How much could we influence?" Saudia asked.
"We could certainly get people into her inner circle," Matthew stated grimly. "Though beyond that…she's very stubborn and would likely dismiss most of what we'd suggest. I honestly see her as a candidate ripe for direct control. She'd be an excellent figurehead, but won't serve us well on her own."
"Direct control is risky," Saudia warned. "Especially if she goes public with the threats or bribes. I believe she has the courage to do that."
"I suppose that depends on how much we could dig up on her," Matthew shrugged. "Make it convincing enough and she won't talk."
Saudia nodded. As much as she liked Kamili, she was simply too weak and uncompromising to be useful to them. Matthew was right in that she'd be an excellent figurehead, but utilizing direct control was a last resort, and they had other options. "We should use Jonas Mallik," she told him. "He's the most moderate of the bunch and most easily manipulated. That will serve our purposes well."
He nodded. "It will be done, Director. Work will begin on removing the other candidates from contention."
"And how are you planning to do that?" She asked, curious.
"For the Democrats, I believe several scandals on the various candidates will erode support for the party," Matthew answered, waving a dismissive hand. "Money laundering, bribery. Oh, and sexual assault, can't forget that."
She raised an eyebrow. "You have something like that?"
"Oh, I'm sure it exists," he amended. "But I don't even need evidence to make it happen. All it takes these days is the allegation and the supposed victim coming forward with her story. Plays right into people's emotions; stirs them right up. Doesn't matter if it's true or not, and it's not difficult to get women to come forward for compensation."
It was a sound plan. Matthew understood the political and social atmosphere of America better than her, so she'd defer to his judgement. "And the Republican opponents?"
"Hmm," he looked at her. "I'd preferably require your assistance with that. Simply because it would be better if they died. No need to cause scandals that damage the party and it's prudent to build sympathy instead. I suspect our alien friends would be useful."
"That they would be," Saudia agreed, thinking further. "I expect you to forward all relevant information to pass along."
"Of course," he acknowledged, inclining his head. "And one more thing before we conclude this excellent meeting." He walked over to his table and grabbed a tablet. "I've found someone that you, and Darian, might want to consider recruiting." He handed it over after pulling up some information.
She looked over the profile. A recent African-American graduate, a geneticist it seemed, who was an expert by all accounts. His young but stern face indicated professionalism, though he seemed a bit stiff from the picture, unsmiling and his glasses and bald head didn't exactly make him look more inviting. "Richard Tygan," she said out loud. "Never heard of him. You think he could be recruited?"
"Yes," Matthew nodded easily. "I'd imagine he'd jump at the chance to examine alien technology and help us immensely in applying it. He's younger and impressionable, so I think there's a good chance we could mold him into a model EXALT scientist."
Saudia nodded and put the tablet down. "I'll speak to Darian. Thank you, Matthew."
"My pleasure," he answered with a smile. "Have an excellent flight back. Even if America does not come completely under our control, I'll ensure we direct its future."
"One more thing," she said, raising her hand. Her tone hardening. "These anti-police demonstrations? I want them brought under control. If we're going to have a united America, I'd rather you get started now."
"Can do," he assured her. "How do you want me to handle it?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Simple, in these shootings, determine the guilt or innocence of the officers implicated. If they are innocent, back them and release proof. If not, ensure they are convicted."
"I can do that," Matthew answered, pursing his lips. "But that process does take time and it might not completely remove the protesters, no matter how much evidence is shown."
"Then discredit them," Saudia ordered. "Plant people within the crowds to disrupt them. Expose their leaders as criminals or worse. But I want civilian casualties kept to a minimum," she paused. "But if it becomes necessary…do whatever you have to."
"Noted," he nodded. "I should probably be able to do it without resorting to assassination."
"Good," she stated, turning around. "And I want these supremacist groups gone. All of them."
She could hear the confusion in his voice. "Which ones?"
"All of them," she emphasized, her tone turning to steel. "I don't care what race they are. The world has moved beyond them and their kind only encourages division and hate. They are no longer afforded the protection of civilian status. They are to be considered criminal agitators and must be purged."
She turned around to Matthew. "Understand?"
He swallowed and she understood why. Stripping a non-militant group of civilian status within EXALT was rarely done, and even less so when said group was not directly interfering with EXALT. But she figured this qualified, and would remove some of the worst of humanity in the process. Their archaic mindsets had no place in the modern world and it was time for that to chance. America would not mourn their deaths and neither would the world.
There were bigger issues to deal with.
"Understood, Director," he affirmed firmly.
"It must be permanent," Saudia emphasized. "Use legal means if you wish, but I'm sure Zara and Elizabeth would appreciate the diversion."
"I was thinking the same." He answered, inclining his head in deference. "It will be done."
"Farewell," she said, walking away. "I'll speak to you soon."
She the left, leaving him to start the process of deciding the next president of the United States.
The Bastion, Communications Center.
"A shame you took the easy route," the hologram of Zara said as she shook her head. Garbed in the same gear as the meeting, the only difference between the meeting then and now was the slight shimmer around her, betraying that she was just a hologram.
The room was designed in such a way that the participants in the meeting were tracked and their images streamed to whoever they were communicating with. The result was participates could have a meeting or discussion almost exactly like in person. It was one piece of technology Saudia especially loved.
"It would have taken too much time," Saudia defended, as Zara paced back and forth. She'd expected Zara to not approve of her decision, but she'd listen to reason eventually. "I don't imagine our alliance with the aliens will last years."
"A challenge I and my soldiers are unafraid of," Zara snorted. "But in terms of pure practicality, I see your point."
"I'm glad you think so," Saudia answered, relieved. "Had we more time, I would have done it differently."
"A shame regardless," Zara muttered. "I would have loved to disrupt the complacency within that corrupt country. It needs to be rebuilt from the bottom up."
"Something that I saw plainly over there," Saudia sighed. "As much as I dislike violent revolutions, one may be necessary for America in the future."
"It is mandatory," Zara hissed. "Not just for America. You are only prolonging the problem. Once this war is over, America will revert to what it is now."
"We shall cross that bridge when we arrive," Saudia told her. "Besides, there are far less stable countries than America that we must deal with first."
"Agreed, and I doubt you'll be doing anything about them anytime soon," Zara accused, crossing her arms. "Yes, yes, I know you have specific plans. But it is aggravating."
"Not everything can be solved by war," Saudia reminded her tiredly. "Many violent revolutions only work in the short term."
"Who said anything about revolution?" Zara asked. "You know my stance. The Middle East must be purged. Completely."
Saudia sighed. That particular opinion was one very unpopular within EXALT as it was insulting, sloppy and simply wrong. No country or government was beyond salvaging; sure, it would take time, resources and money, but it could be done. Zara personally saw little point in trying to execute plans that took years or decades and preferred a more direct approach.
Granted, she had spent more time in that region than Saudia and the things she'd seen had convinced her that the region was beyond saving. And when Zara meant purge she meant the elimination of everyone there. She felt the culture needed to be destroyed, not just the people. And that was something Saudia would not consider if there were other options.
The majority of deaths in a purge would be innocents, and that was unacceptable to her. She could live with a few necessary deaths, but only as a last resort. Within EXALT itself, if an operation took the lives of people outside the designated mission parameters, it indicated a lack of precision or just plain sloppiness.
It was a more personal reason why she'd ultimately decided against Matthew's alternate plan. More innocent people would have undoubtable been hurt as a result of their actions and that would have been a personal disappointment for her. But had that been the more practical route, she would have taken it.
She'd done her best to keep civilian casualties to a minimum within her time as Director, but it was difficult sometimes. She figured that more hard decisions were coming the further the war persisted. In the meantime, Zara had to redirect her passion and anger into something productive.
"That's not going to happen, Zara," she stated firmly. "But we've talked enough about America. I think it's time to draw XCOM out."
"Excellent," Zara grinned. "I look forward to it. Your plan?"
"It's time to start weakening the Cartels," Saudia told her. "Matthew has given me the location of a town controlled by them. We'll lead the aliens to it for them to do as they please. XCOM learns of the abductions and goes to investigate. Then you strike."
"Sounds like a plan," Zara nodded eagerly, the beginnings of bloodlust in her eyes. "Have you informed our alien friends?"
"I'm going to do that in a few minutes," Saudia told her. "I think it would be best if they know you'll be taking point."
"Ah, so I'll get to meet this Speaker," Zara grimaced. "Wonderful."
"Behave," Saudia told her sternly. "We can't afford to make them suspicious."
"Yeah, yeah," Zara waved absentmindedly. "Don't worry. I'll play the submissive human. "Yes, alien overlords, whatever you wish." "Yes, death to all XCOM. Grr.""
Saudia smirked at her really awful imitation. "At least try to be subtle. Standing there looking foreboding will do the trick."
Zara laughed. "Oh, please. Even I know I don't look that intimidating."
"Then just stand there and look pretty," Saudia chuckled. "Maybe he'll be distracted."
"Shut up," Zara shivered, looking at her, frowning. "You don't actually think…"
"Only one way to find out," she teased, enjoying her discomfort far more than she should.
Zara narrowed her eyes. "You play seductress with the alien, Director. If that thing looks at me like that I'll castrate it and-"
"I'm sure you will," Saudia chuckled. "I'm setting up the call now."
Zara quieted down as the call went through. A few minutes later the image of the Speaker of the Elders materialized into the doppelganger, unchanged from their last meeting.
"Director," he greeted in his oily voice, inclining his head respectfully. "I trust all is well?"
"At the moment, Speaker," she returned with a nod of her own. "I presume things are proceeding well on your end."
"As the Elders will it," he answered smoothly. "I presume you've begun to adapt our technology for your own use?"
"We are," she confirmed. "And beginning to make great progress."
He clasped his hands together and displayed an eerie smile that was disturbingly human. "That is excellent to hear. Please, let us know if you require further assistance."
They were still keeping up the overly helpful act. An interesting tactic, and didn't exactly encourage respect for the alien's leadership. There was no way they could be this naïve. Whatever, she'd exploit this as best she could. "I'm pleased you accepted our call," she told the Speaker. "In fact, I believe it is time to begin operations against XCOM."
The Speaker grew serious, his face reverting to a neutral expression that seemed distinctly alien. The way his features contorted gave the impression of someone pretending to be human rather than a displaying the emotion itself. Even if she'd seen it before, it was still disconcerting. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Zara stiffen.
"State your plan," the Speaker almost ordered, the pleasantness gone from his voice. "We are listening."
Interesting choice of words. Not that she was surprised the Speaker wasn't alone. "We have a location that we feel is useful to you. A small town filled with an above-average count of healthy human subjects. These people are troublemakers and criminals and you would be doing a favor by removing these criminals and acquiring additional test subjects for your own usage."
"There is wisdom in that," the Speaker nodded. "Very well. We will strike this town and that should be enough to draw XCOM out. What do you propose then?"
"A strike team will be waiting," Saudia answered, motioning Zara forward. "This is Zara Venator, Head of the Venator Family and Overseer of Australia as well as the military arm of EXALT. She will be in charge of the ambush."
"A pleasure to meet you," the alien said smoothly with a smile. "Though I must warn you that XCOM soldiers are unlike any you have faced before."
"My soldiers have toppled governments, started revolutions and ended them as quickly," Zara stated coldly. "We are more than capable of dealing with the soldiers of a United Nations organization. Rest assured, Speaker, you have nothing to fear."
She wished Zara hadn't responded so aggressively to the aliens warning, a warning she felt was perfectly fine, but Zara didn't like people (or aliens) even suggesting that she wasn't up for the task. Fortunately, the Speaker didn't seem offended. "Then we look forward to your victory, Overseer Venator."
"The first of many," Zara added. "XCOM will fall before us."
"We will then inform you when we intend to strike," the Speaker told them. "It will be within the next few days."
"Excellent," Saudia told him. "We look forward to continued cooperation."
"As do we, Director," the Speaker clasped his hands behind his back and nodded towards her once. "May your victories be swift," the ghost of a smile crossed his face. "We will be watching."
She wasn't quite able to keep a straight face as she heard those words. The hologram vanished and those ominous words lingered in her ear. The fact that they'd chosen those words hadn't been an accident and would know what they meant to her.
Perhaps they weren't as naïve as she thought.
"Rather blunt," Zara commented, looking at the place the Speaker had been staring. "That whole performance is just an act. They think they are superior to us and only give the illusion of cooperation."
"Of course they do," Saudia sighed. "But we can work with condescension. It'll make the day we remove them from this Earth much sweeter."
"That it will," Zara agreed. "I'll await your orders, Director. In the meantime, I've got soldiers to prepare."
"As you were," Saudia nodded towards her. "I'll be in contact."
"I'll be waiting. Zara, out."
The hologram vanished, leaving her alone. Turning on her heel, she began heading for her room. While she had some time, it might be a good idea to look into this "Richard Tygan." The faster they learned the secrets of the aliens, the better.
The Bastion, Subject Cells
How many days had it been?
A few hours? A week?
Annette didn't know anymore. Any semblance of time had been torn apart as whoever was keeping her began intermittently cutting off the lights at odd times. The blackouts sometimes lasted hours, other times minutes. Although she couldn't even rely on her perception of time anymore since she knew they were pumping drugs into her cell.
That had almost been as terrifying as the voices; knowing she was helpless to resist whatever they decided to use on her. She'd been terrified recently that her feelings weren't her own and instead were the result of some chemicals. As a result, she'd tried focused exclusively on keeping calm, no matter what she was feeling.
There hadn't been any more episodes. Psionics is what they were called, apparently. Whatever, it didn't explain anything and she didn't want to keep being triggered on the whims of some scientists.
But she'd come close. Very, very close.
The first experience she'd been aware of had been pleasant, as it was intended to be, she supposed. She'd felt oddly happy and had stumbled around the cell with a ridiculous smile on her face, giggling like she was a teen again. She'd remembered happier times, times of childhood, family and friendship. Stuff she hadn't thought about in years.
They must have figured out happiness wasn't going to be a good trigger and they stopped whatever they were doing and reality came back to her. There weren't many side effects this time, especially since she hadn't used her powers, but she'd still been terrified of how easily it was to send someone into a state like that.
Calm. She had to stay calm and not submit to anything she was feeling because it might not be her. She would only use her abilities on her terms, not at the will of some scientists. She felt that she was getting better at negating the more negative effects of the voices. There hadn't been any headaches for a few hours, the longest she'd gone without some kind of pain.
Annette had steadfastly ignored the voices, even as they grew louder, some of them almost screaming. Despite the risks, she was growing more curious what they were saying, if they were saying anything at all. And that was terrifying since she felt that it was a trick these scientists were playing on her.
Well, she wasn't going to fall for it. She wasn't going to be turned insane just because they willed it. Gritting her teeth, she looked around the room for the hidden camera she knew was there. Despite not seeing it, she tapped her head at one of the corners and shook her head, hoping that conveyed the message.
Although it might not do anything at all. For all she knew, they were learning just as she was. Maybe they didn't know what she was actually experiencing. She shook her head. No, they had to have some idea, especially since she wasn't the only test subject. Not everyone would have been able to resist as she had, it just didn't seem like someone wouldn't have described what was happening to the scientists.
She looked down at her arms, opening and closing her fingers, marveling at how everything still worked. She looked like the victim of an acid attack or fire survivor. Dozens of miniature scars dotted her arms within warped, wrinkled and raw flesh. She remembered the scientists attempting to fix her arm, they had sprayed some stuff on it that had helped, and had also fixed her left wrist after she'd apparently dislocated it from smashing the door.
She curled her fingers of her left hand, wondering why it didn't feel worse. Must be a side effect of using her powers. She wondered if the disfiguring effects would spread to the rest of her body. From showering she'd noticed patches of warped skin and miniature scars on various parts of her body. She assumed it would continue the more she used her powers, and at the rate it was disfiguring her, she wondered if at some point her body would simply fall apart. This kind of damage couldn't be endured forever.
She laid back on the bed, trying to once again figure out how to get out of this hopeless situation. Yet no matter how hard she thought, nothing came to her that would work. Her powers wouldn't let her break out of the room. She had no idea where she was, and had no doubt that if she was caught, she'd wish she was dead.
Who was she kidding? She did wish she was dead. She wished they'd just killed her that night she was walking home. At the time she'd thought the two men were going to rape her or worse and had taken off, the whole time cursing how little she had to defend herself. With only a knife, she'd known her odds weren't good and focused on getting away.
All for nothing, as she'd been unwittingly directed toward a one-way alley. Preparing to fight, hands shaking, she'd raised the rather pathetic looking blade at the two men who'd exchanged a look and almost smiled. At this point she remembered she had a phone and frantically pulled it out, trying to reach the police when the men had taken action and shot her with some kind of taser.
She blacked out and the next thing she knew, she'd woken up in here.
The experiments had started the day after.
She should have been carrying a gun. Latrell had kept insisting she did, going so far as to use his position to get her a permit. She'd refused, not comfortable with guns in the first place and confident nothing was going to happen to her. She was a fairly intelligent woman, she could admit that, but not anyone worth kidnapping or committing any sort of crime against.
She wasn't even particularly high up in her position either, just a personnel and importing manager in one of France's many corporations. True, she was good at her job, but it wasn't exactly a position that attracted much interest outside corporate circles. Although now that she'd had some time to think, her mediocrity was probably the reason she'd been abducted for these experiments.
She was no one and they knew it. A disappearance like hers would result in an investigation at most and then the police would eventually determine it was a murder or just chalk her up as missing. Then they'd forget about her and move on to the next case.
Annette felt tears gather in her eyes as she remembered everything she'd left behind.
She missed all of them now. Latrell, his family, her mother, even her father, strange as that was to admit. They might have had major disagreements, but she knew he'd loved her. Now she'd probably never get to see and yell at him again.
She sniffed as the tears fell down the side of her face onto the bed. Sure, her life hadn't exactly been the most exciting, but she'd been happy. She'd had a good job, a group of good friends, a loving if flawed family and an amazing boyfriend. She'd been happy.
Now she'd never get any of that back. She was essentially trapped in this small room forever.
Even if she did manage to get out of the room it was still pointless. She was just going to be captured again anyway so why even bother?
To get yourself killed.
She let out a broken chuckle through her blurred vision. Was this was she was reduced to? Contemplating not how to escape this place, but the best way to commit suicide? Well, did she really have any other option? She was going to die eventually, someday her usefulness would come to an end and they'd kill her.
It might be better to die on her own terms.
Although there was one option she could take; a final resort before she could resort to planning her own suicide.
She could listen to the voices.
As soon as that thought entered her mind she began sobbing and curled up into a ball. She cursed herself for even thinking of that. They wanted her to do this! This…all she was feeling right now was engineered by them to bait her into crossing the point of no return.
But the despair was crumbling her resolve to resist the emotional manipulation as she laid curled up for unknown minutes; because deep down, she felt that it was irrevocably rooted in truth.
She had no more options if she ever wanted to escape.
It didn't matter it she held out forever or a few hours. It would accomplish nothing in the long run. If she didn't break, someone else would and all she would have done is gotten executed knowing she'd resisted them. That might have been good enough for some, but not her. If she was going to resist, it had to accomplish something.
And if listening to the voices was the key to escaping…could she really ignore it?
As if they knew the internal war she was fighting, the voices whispered on the edge of her consciousness; taunting her with vague sounds that she would be able to understand if she just paid attention.
Just a moment. That's all that was needed.
And what did she have to lose? Her mind? At this point, it might be better this way. If she went insane she'd be free in a way, no longer worrying about the hell her life had become. Better if that forced these people to conclude she was a lost cause and terminate her once and for all.
She sat up, taking shaky breaths and feeling her resolve grow. The grief and sadness slowly faded, though she didn't know if that was the result of the chemicals fading or if she'd ironically somehow managed to resist them after deciding to do what they wanted.
But she no longer cared is she was getting manipulated or not. There were no more options; no more putting it off. It was time to take a chance or resign herself to the life of a captive.
She got off the bed and knelt on the floor, calmly resting her hands on her knees. A meditative pose she'd seen that somehow felt right for this situation. Slowing her breathing down until it was a steady rhythm, she closed her eyes.
And listened.
The world went quiet and a blanket silence fell on her.
Utter silence.
Then at the edge of her consciousness she heard the faint sound of words. She immediately focused on them.
Wonder what the Director is thinking, keeping the subject alive this long. It served it's purpose long ago.
More words came, but these were different, it didn't sound like the source was the same. Tell me about it. The subjects get more dangerous the longer we keep it. Let's hope the scientists get what they need. I don't want these things living up to their namesake.
Annette gasped as a flood of images appeared; most were half-formed, vague, rooms missing details. A hideous creature with leathery wings and shrieking. All the images were going an instant later as the first voice continued. Who came up with the name, anyway?
Long story apparently, the second voice said and kept speaking but Annette noticed something that seemed like a blanket above her, or more like a balloon about to pop. Focusing it on it, images came into view, much sharper and clearer than the half-formed images she'd seen earlier.
It was a hallway with bright white lights above it and gray floors and walls. Directly across was something like a cell. Rather like hers, if she was being honest. But what seemed interesting is that this didn't seem to be a static image. Almost without thinking, she looked to her left and was surprised when the image shifted as well.
A man was beside her, or at least from the image she was seeing. He was speaking, though she couldn't hear anything. He appeared pretty well dressed, wearing pants, a striped suit and tie with suspenders. Various electronic equipment was on him, earpieces and some computing gear strapped to his arms and waist. A red bandanna covered his lower face and he appeared to be of Chinese descent.
This was so weird, but she was curious just what she was doing. Time to see what was behind her. Willing the image to completely reverse, she realized she was also in front of a similar looking cell to the one across from her. Only this one had someone in it. A woman, it appeared, brown hair, white cloths and…kneeling…on the floor.
She audibly gasped and the image blurred and threatened to vanish as her heart started pounding.
This couldn't be possible. It couldn't be.
Holding onto the collapsing image, she raised her own physical hand and saw the woman raise it as well. Not a woman. Her. The image faded and her eyes snapped open with a gasp and frantic breathing. Unwilling to sit still, she jumped to her feet and began pacing frantically.
Had she just-did she seriously…was that some strange sort of hallucination?
It seemed insane…but there wasn't any other way she could explain it.
She'd seen inside someone's mind.
And the voices…they weren't random whispers in her mind. They were people; their thoughts, words and memories. And if she could understand them…she paused her pacing, thinking furiously.
Could she control them?
To a degree she must, otherwise how would she have turned the head to her cell. So if she could figure out how to control people…
A smile crept across her face as the beginnings of an idea formed in her head as the voices lingered in the back of her head.
But now she could understand them.
Now she had a chance to escape.