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Russ Roche was delighted when Major told him their mission for the day. Of course he was. Major was sympathetic—this was the paper that had laid out everything about zombies, the reporter who had betrayed Ravi, the article that had made Liv the face of zombies everywhere. Major wanted to send a very strong message about how he felt about that.
But under other circumstances, he would have respected the freedom of the press. The reporter had been unprincipled, yes, but from her point of view she'd been chasing down an important story, something the public needed to know about that was being covered up by the very top of Seattle's leadership. He didn't blame her, not entirely.
Still. In the name of cozying up to Roche, in the name of making a statement to the press that New Seattle wasn't necessarily going to be operating under the old rules, timeless and deeply honored though they might be … Major would do what he had to do.
At the head of a squad of zombie soldiers, Major marched into the paper's offices. An older man, likely the editor, was standing in the middle of the room with Ravi's ex-crush. Rachel, if memory served. Both of them turned to frown at the soldiers. "What the hell? What is this all about, here?"
"Are you in charge?" Major asked him.
"I'm the editor."
"I need you to direct your people to shut down their computers, pack up their personal belongings, and exit the building."
"Why? When can we return?"
"You can't. Your newspaper is being closed down for the public good." Major couldn't deny that he was enjoying this, just a little. He took an extra pride in keeping his voice even and his bearing professional.
"The public good?" Rachel repeated incredulously. "Are you serious?"
"You're printing fake news," Roche told them. "That Mama Leone lady was making more zombies when we can't feed the zombies we already have."
"We are on the precipice of destruction at all times." Major wished he was lying … or even stretching the truth. But he wasn't. Any day, this could all come crashing down around their ears, and these people were chipping away at the foundations in a way none of them could afford. "The old rules of freedom of the press no longer apply." Over the shoulders of the two people he was talking to, he noticed a man at a desk beginning to unplug a laptop, as if to take it with him. "You!" Major pointed at him. "Do not take any computer equipment. This includes any kind of hard drive, thumb drive, memory stick. It all stays here."
"No. No way." Rachel headed for her desk. "If you're shutting us down, I'm taking my work home—"
Before she reached the desk, shots rang out. People screamed and ducked behind their desks as computers all around the room exploded from the impact of the bullets.
When there was silence again, Rachel was the first to stand up, glaring at Major. Behind him, Roche was silent, as he damned well better be, Major thought grimly. As leader, it should have been his call if there was going to be shooting, and he couldn't even make that point to Roche without ruining all the progress he'd made in cozying up to him.
Rachel understood the chain of command, though, and her disgusted gaze remained firmly on Major. "What do you expect from the Chaos Killer?" she asked. She picked her laptop, which was flat enough to have survived Roche's shooting spree, up off her desk, and without a second's thought, Major drew his sidearm and shot it out of her hands. She dropped it, crying out, and turned to him again, in shock this time.
Major forced a cocky smile. "That's my name, baby. Don't wear it out." He exchanged satisfied glances with Roach, hoping no one could tell that he'd far rather have been helping clean up than causing more chaos. "Now, if there are no more objections?"
The editor clearly wanted to object, as did Rachel, but the rest of the staff went quietly, even submitting to being searched as they left.
Rachel was the last out, stopping to glare at Major one more time. "You'll be sorry."
"That," he told her, "is what they all say."
Roche hovered over her. "You let me know if you want me to give you an interview, sweetheart. Because I'll be happy to get … in depth with you, anytime."
Major met his eyes and shook his head slightly. Roche grinned and stepped back.
"Pigs. You're all pigs, and murderers." Another of the squad made a motion as if to hurry her out the door and Rachel lifted her hands up in a surrender motion. "I'm going. But you won't have things all your own way forever. New Seattle is on the precipice, all right … and Fillmore Graves will be the first to fall."
"What do you mean by that?" Roche demanded, stepping toward her. Major stopped him as she scurried around one of the other soldiers and out the door.
"She doesn't mean anything," Major said. "She's just talking big so she can feel like she scored on us." He gestured at the room. "We all know who won today."
And what was lost, he reflected to himself, giving the room one last look before he locked the door and watched the squad put up caution tape over it. Truth, justice, and the American way. New Seattle was no place for Superman. Or Clark Kent, either.