AN: For some reason, in my head-canon, Jeremy Baker was a high school math teacher before the Blackout. Couldn't find any real canon on it, but if anyone does, lemme know and I'll correct the details accordingly. I'm all about the details. :-D I really wanted to title this chapter, "Look, guys! Villains!" but sadly, it didn't fit with my ongoing theme.

A shout-out to Francie, who's been leaving me some very nice reviews but hasn't logged in for me to respond personally - thanks for letting me know what specifically you liked - I'm in so many characters' heads, it's nice to know what people are connecting with in each chapter. :-)

Full credit for the blinding speed of this update goes to buttercups3, who asked very nicely and with only a little attached guilt-tripping. ;-)

Disclaimer: Revolution's still not mine, and these lovely villainous characters also don't belong to me, any more than the heroic ones do. Sigh. :-)

Catalytic Converter

Jeremy Baker has not had a good four hours. He'd spent the first two arguing with Neville about armed and violent pursuit of the Matheson clan - Neville had had absolute murder in his gaze and his fists kept clenching and unclenching spasmodically as he toed the line of outright insubordination in his insistence that Miles had to be caught and killed immediately. He'd come this far from suggesting that Jeremy had let Miles go on purpose, then seemed to realize the clear and present danger of that conversational direction.

Miles must have pissed him off personally. Miles was good at that.

Jeremy, for his part, had held his line - that the rebel cells throughout the Republic would be unnecessarily emboldened by the publicized loss of Sebastian Monroe, that subsequently putting Miles' head on a pike would only make him a martyr and most certainly result in Monroe's death, and that their foremost concern ought to be to ensure that Monroe's absence would not create a power vacuum that could cause potentially devastating infighting and instability during a time when the Militia could ill afford to appear weak. They would of course make it a priority to get General Monroe back, but they would do so quietly, with stealth rather than force.

Neville had visibly controlled himself and responded with a deferential nod and an "Of course."

Jeremy had had him tailed as soon as he'd left the office. He'd known that man long enough to know that Neville was at his most dangerous right after he smiled at you.

Then, he'd spent two more hours putting out fires - making sure any soldiers who'd seen Miles leave with Monroe were silenced (forcibly, if necessary), sending the appropriate sealed instructions to the garrison commanders in the surrounding area. Oh, and literally putting out a small grass fire started by a spark thrown from the helicopter rotors. Maintenance on that thing had been and is going to be heinously complicated, and he still doesn't understand why Monroe had refused to go with something more durable, albeit with a little less shock value.

He's only just sat down when there's a knock on the door of his office. "Come in," he says, trying not to look like he just wants to put his head in his hands and cry.

It's Neville's kid, Jason. Jeremy has always liked him - maybe Jason just reminds him a little of the students he used to teach - but the kid hasn't yet learned that in the post-Blackout world, having a conscience or moral scruples just ensures that you get the shit kicked out of you (or worse) all the faster. In one of life's great ironies, it had been Miles Matheson who'd taught Jeremy that lesson.

Jason stops in front of his desk and salutes. Jeremy salutes back, hopefully looking more enthusiastic about it than he feels. "Corporal?"

Jason drops his salute, and, squaring his shoulders, says, "Report from the supply depot at the country club: Supply wagon WG-19 was attacked an hour ago en route to the depot. Whoever did it blew up a section of road to stop the wagon. The driver and both guards were killed."

"Any witnesses?" Of course, it has to be Miles' work, but Jeremy has to cover his bases. Not doing so leaves you open to being stabbed in the back. Bass had taught him that - in another of life's little ironies.

"No, sir."

"Thank you, Corporal. Dismissed."

Jason turns on his heel and leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.

Jeremy stands and walks to the window, looking out over the courtyard and the ruined section of wall destroyed in the Mathesons' escape. He'd come so close to having a shot at Miles earlier, but never quite close enough to risk it. So he'd had to watch Miles walk out the gate with the last remaining bastion of uncontested leadership the Militia had possessed. Without Bass to keep the others in line, they'll be lucky to last a week without half of high command killing each other.

And Jeremy holds no illusions that he won't be the first to go. He looks over his shoulder, reflexively, before glancing out the window again, and wonders what the hell Miles is planning.

...

Jason Neville breathes a soft sigh of relief as the door to Jeremy's office clicks shut behind him.

A short-lived sigh of relief. His father is standing just on the other side of the door, with the gleam in his eye that's always made Jason's heart race with fear.

"Come with me," he says.

Arguing with that voice gets you beaten within an inch of your life. Jason goes.

His dad leads him quickly down a series of corridors with which he's mostly unfamiliar, down several flights of stairs, and out a back entrance to the power plant. They walk, at a pace so brisk it requires Jason to jog occasionally to keep up, all the way past the helipads, through a locked gate - to which he's pretty sure his father isn't supposed to have a key - and into the woods behind the power plant before his dad says another word.

As they reach the woods, his father turns so quickly that Jason nearly runs into him. "You lied to Colonel Baker."

Shit. Jason should have known he'd find out. He always finds out. But there's nothing to do now except play dumb. "Sir?"

His dad's voice drops to that low, patient tone he uses with people he's about to eviscerate. "You left out information from your report, which is the same as lying."

Jason schools his face completely blank. His only chance now is to convince his dad that he actually doesn't know.

"I can only assume one thing here, Jason." His father pauses, then smiles broadly.

Where the hell is this going now? His dad's looking at him like he's waiting for a response. This is always a dangerous game. A misplaced word or a wrong assumption now, and he'll be in more trouble than he's ever been in in his life, including when he'd thrown Charlie off the Militia train. He swallows past a dry throat. "What's that, sir?"

"That you left information out of your report to Colonel Baker because you intended to give that information to me instead."

Jason only just keeps from raising an eyebrow. What his father is suggesting would be outright treason if he was talking about General Monroe, but with Monroe gone, Colonel Baker's right to leadership would only hold as long as no one else made a bid to take over -

- and his father is making that bid.

And this conversation is him demanding that Jason join him.

By asking a question to which he undoubtedly already knows the answer.

So now, as at most times in his life, Jason is presented with a choice that's not really a choice: lying, in this case, will only hurt him and decidedly not help anyone else. He grinds his teeth, looking his father straight in the eyes, and trying to keep his mouth from twisting bitterly around the words: "The wagon and two horses were tracked to the abandoned Willow Grove Park Mall, where they stopped briefly - presumably to pick up passengers - and then continued along the road headed east, toward Levittown. The tracks are less than two hours old by now."

Just like that, the murderous gleam disappears from his father's eyes. He smiles and claps Jason heartily on the back, letting out a delighted laugh. "That's why I've already put a pursuit detail together. And you'll be riding right beside me. Helping us track." He whistles; a few seconds later, an answering whistle sounds from the woods, and then, one by one, ten men file into the clearing, each one leading a horse. A quick glance reveals that they're all men from his father's company, and the way they look at Major Neville suggests that there's no doubt where their loyalties lie. The first soldier is leading two extra horses; one, he hands to Jason's father, the other, to Jason.

Jason swings into the saddle, feeling his chest and shoulders tighten in foreboding. He's not sure exactly what his father's plan entails, but he's certain that it does not include bringing General Monroe (or anyone else, for that matter) back alive.