Marta had met Matias a couple of days ago, but she found she had trouble getting him out of her mind. It wasn’t attraction or anything, but the encounter had inspired hope in her that she was doing the right thing. That fighting the cartels was possible. She had left him with a couple of hints, and she smiled to herself as she wondered if he had figured any of it out.

Ricky had texted her and Elyse - he was gone for the night, so she was in Elyse’s room. It wasn’t a school night, so Marta had no qualms with staying up late. It also meant Elyse was working. He had the room to herself for awhile. Marta was still trying to figure out coding. She knew that writing code was the key to breaking Wicked’s file encryption. She just was having trouble putting the pieces together. She wasn’t so much book smart, so it was taking longer than she had expected. She’d get there eventually, but tonight she needed a break. 

Marta actually had quite a bit of money. She didn’t spend much, and had saved most of her allowances. She spent some time shopping for Christmas gifts. For most of the kids she got some nice treats to enjoy. She got something a little more special for Sterling, Nox, and Hayden. She’d already got gifts for Elyse and Ricky. Then the thought came that she should get something for Wicked. She put something in her cart and ordered it. She could get it to Sage somehow she believed. Sky would probably help, but she wanted to try to keep Sage from figuring out what it was. It was impossible to hide it from him - but she was hoping it was unimportant enough that he wouldn’t notice it. 

Then she opened her laptop to Sage’s app that gave her access to his collected information. She barely used it, and when she did, she was careful. She didn’t want to break Sage’s rules or abuse his friendship. But she had research to do. 

She searched for “Matias Amengual” in the search bar. She wasn’t searching for anything specific here, but he had spoken of his connection to the cartel - vaguely. She confirmed what she thought she knew. He wasn’t affiliated with them anymore. So yes - a potential ally. She then searched “El Tiburon” Matias had mentioned the cartel leader had died like no man thought they would - alone and cornered. 

Marta didn’t want to see the man’s demise, but she wanted to know what happened. She found camera images and recognized the place. He had hid with Nuevo León, as Matias had said. But there was a man’s face that she saw in the images. Not a customer and not a cartel member. She know the way those faces looked. This one was different. Marta zoomed in and searched to see if she could find a name to a face. It came up soon. 

Jay Carpenter. 

Marta found his file and began to skim. Was in the Legion Premiere - the name Jared Vanders was there too as a connection. They had fought together. Then another word - Dominion. He was a Dominion. A powerful man indeed. She would need to read his file and get the story. Maybe this Jay Carpenter was a potential ally.

Youngest son of Baccarat Crystal (Facility Manager of Moscow Head Quarters & Baccarrat Mansion and Secret Founder of a Yet Unknown Atharim Faction)

Age 21

Supernatural Power: Channeler
Skill: New
Strength: 15/15

The Baccarat Heir:

Brice Lagueux is 62 years old he has just stepped away from running Baccarat Cyrstal. Zurie Brice is 54 years old, both are living comfortably in France at their small manor house near the coast.

Oliver Lagueux is 35 and running the Baccarats many companies, he is the eldest son and he travels around the world to his various companies. His wife and three children live in France near his parents.

Amele and Belisandra, 33 and 31 respectively, married wealthy men and live their lives outside of the Baccarat names, their husbands having their own highly influential families.

Vaden Langueux was an Atharim hunter, he and their Uncle Julien worked together since Vaden was young. They both died when a rogue wolfkin and his pack killed them both. The Atharim stand by their intel, but Eliot knows that it's just a cover up. The intel had not mentioned the wolfkin had a pack, it was that lack of knowledge that killed them, he believes if they had known they would have survived. Vaden was 25 when he died, that was almost four years ago.

Eliot, the youngest and a surprise child, took over the Atharim safe house in Moscow when his brother and uncle both passed simultaneously when Eliot was 17. He was still young, but he wanted to prove himself to his family. He made it his life's work to ensure the safety of the charges who called Moscow home, and to have the best intel that money could buy.

Hospitals and Safe Houses:

Eliot was born when his mother was 37 years old, the surprise of the child was not nearly as surprising as when Eliot arrived in the world. Since his birth he has been in and out of hospitals. He has probably spent more of his life in a hosiptal bed than in his own.

The doctors could not find what was wrong with him no matter the money his father threw at them, or their hospitals.

After the first 10 years of his life, they gave up trying to find answers and just managed his frail little life.

Since there was little Eliot could do he studied the Atharim books. He learned how to treat common injuries and spent what little time he could in the basement of the Baccarat Mansion in Moscow. He curated the library, he stocked the infirmary. It was part of his hobby, and when his Uncle Julien died, he took over full control of the facility. And then, the Regus moved his head quarters to Moscow to his facility to his home. It was a wonderous day, but it was also the scariest day of his life.

Despite being Atharim and knowing the lore, Eliot had a secret. At the age of 20 he had discovered he was a godling - a man who could weild a formidable power that laid waste to the world once. Before he'd found out what he could do he was wracked with the pain and sickness that came with it's useage. But since he was already sickly and took to the hospital many times in his life time, no one thought anything of the fevers and the pain he had, it was just another symptom of his undiagnosed issues.

Those early days learning to control his power had been tough. And when the Regus came to Moscow Eliot had to keep his secret safe, the last thing he wanted was the head of the Atharim to find out the Baccarat name was tainted.

Played History:

Eliot almost lost his life in the fire at the Baccarat mansion. He barely escaped with his life after letting the perpetrators go through the halls unscathed. It left him an opening to rebuild the mansion in all its glory so that it could become a technological facility with much more room for modern day needs of the Atharim.

In secret, Eliot started making plans. He has since aligned with Helena Asquith and they have arranged a marriage to solidify their union of convenience.

Nolan Trace was elected president in a special emergency election; legitimacy is disputed by several red-state governments.

Pro-CCD sentiment rising in multiple U.S. regions:

• Riots erupting in southern coastal states demanding CCD integration.
  
• Civil conflict growing between pro-CCD and pro-USA factions, with violence increasing in major population centers.
  

• U.S. dollar near worthless along the CCD border zones.
  
• CCD dollar is now used in unofficial markets, especially for food, medicine, and energy. The CCD dollars are digital currencies and shared either digitally or on cold-wallet cards.
  
• Price instability, wage freezes, and private sector shutdowns spreading in the hardest hit areas.
  

• Thousands attempting to flee into Dominance 9 via Texas.
  
• Borders are functionally closed; many are turned away or vanish in the buffer zones.
  
• CCD citizens in the US are allowed to return, and sometimes forcibly deported.
  

• Severe scarcity of medical supplies, clean water, heating fuel, and basic utilities.
  
• Major U.S. hospitals running on reduced capacity; some closing entirely in rural regions.
  

• Natural gas and oil from Texas now unavailable to U.S. markets.
  
• CCD controls pipelines and ports along annexed territories.
  
• Only Canada and Alaska still exporting fuel to the U.S., insufficient to meet winter demand.
  

• Coastal ports are seizing fuel and trade resources for regional survival.
  
• Midwest and inland states facing infrastructure collapse and rising death tolls from exposure and malnutrition.
  

Snow drifted like ash over the broken road. Wind whistled through the bones of overpasses, and gas signs flapped on skeletal poles above the pot-marked surface of Interstate 35.

On the northern side of the checkpoint, technically on American soil, families huddled in old camping tents and mismashed cardboard. There was no power except for a few diesel generators, but the gasoline was so expensive, nobody could run them more than an hour at a time. A few old wood stoves puffed smoke into the gray sky instead, their warmth shared by too many.

Outside one such tent, a man stood with a pair of battered binoculars pressed to his eyes. He was about fifty, though the cold had carved deeper lines into his face than the years alone could claim. His coat was Army surplus. The hem of a red flannel shirt poked out under the cuffs, threadbare and faded. Through the fogged lenses of his binoculars, Dominance IX shimmered like a distant promise.

On the southern side of the checkpoint, CCD soldiers in environmental armor moved in clean, practiced lines. Portable heaters glowed along the waiting lanes. A holographic video flickered to life every few minutes, casting blue-green light across the tarmac. Families gathered in neat rows, children cradling shrink-wrapped “Unity Gifts” in their arms—each box bearing the mark of the Ascendancy’s double crescent and the symbol of their new Dominance.

And above it all, projected twenty meters high on a drone-suspended emitter rig, was the face of the Ascendancy himself. Speakers made sure that those on the other side of the border would be able to overhear.

“In this sacred season,” he said, voice rich with gravitas and calm, “we honor peace not as a dream, but as an achievement. Dominance Nine is proof of what unity brings. Where once there was chaos, now there is light. Where once there was fear, now there is prosperity.”

A little girl waved at the screen. The Ascendancy didn’t wave back, but his smile widened. It had the precise warmth of a calibrated sunrise.

The man with the binoculars lowered them. His name was Danvers. Once a high school chemistry teacher in Oklahoma City. Now just another border ghost.

His fingers fumbled in his coat pocket and pulled out a plastic bag. Inside were a few crumpled U.S. dollars. Not digital. Not encoded. Just paper. Once powerful. Now nearly useless. He stared at them a long time. Folded twenty. Two fives. A ten that was starting to tear along the crease. From behind him, a younger man muttered, “Might as well burn ’em. Worth more that way.”

Danvers looked down at the fire barrel, then back at the bills. He lifted the ten-dollar note slowly, feeling the wind tug at it like it was already dead. His fingers hovered just above the flame. But he stopped. Not out of sentiment. Just... inertia. He returned the bills to the bag and the bag to his pocket.

“They’re worth more as memory,” he said, mostly to himself. A child’s voice rose nearby. “Is he coming, Papa?” Someone else laughed bitterly. A mother pulled her child closer. Danvers didn’t answer. He just looked south again.

“To the brave people of Texas, of Mexico, and our brothers and sisters in Central America,” the Ascendancy’s voice rang out, “you stood in the face of uncertainty and chose peace. You joined not a nation, but a purpose. Tonight, your children sleep beneath warmth and order. Tomorrow, they will wake beneath the banner of the future.”

A convoy of CCD trucks passed behind the border fence, gleaming with chrome and efficiency. Danvers watched them disappear into the depths of the Dominance. New roads. New infrastructure. New money. On the American side, a woman bartered with a man for three AA batteries. Two strips of aspirin in exchange.

Danvers blinked and adjusted his binoculars again. The CCD broadcast resumed—bright, seamless, confident. The Ascendancy’s face loomed above the border like a secular messiah.

“This is not conquest,” the Ascendancy intoned. “This is communion. Together, we shape a new era unbroken by chaos, untainted by corruption. We offer continuity. Revival.”

A cheer rose from the Dominance side. Or maybe it was just audio piped through public speakers. Danvers couldn’t tell anymore. Then, a quiet hiss behind him. He turned. On the corrugated wall of a gas station, someone was spray-painting a phrase in red. Sloppy, rushed, but legible.

Elyse didn’t sleep much the night Jay had shown up at the house. She told herself she wouldn’t spiral. She wouldn’t give herself over to the darkness. So she kept Marta’s picture there. A sign for her whenever she felt like she needed a reminder to not allow herself to be overtaken. It was difficult though. Guilt was still there. The thing had probably hurt Nox. Or not.  It was hard to tell with his emotions just gone. Then Liam. The kid that had to grow up. Much like Marta had. And here she was, feeling like shit. 

Elyse had to remind herself that she was struggling with mental illness. Her reactions weren’t her fault. She had to remind herself that it was okay for her to have problems. She remembered Liv telling her that she wasn't a burden to them. Hell - they considered her a friend - family. 

Sometimes she still wasn’t sure what that meant. She tried to remind herself though. When she looked at the time, she realized it was morning. She had missed breakfast. Even so, she wasn’t feeling hungry. Elyse’s head rested against the wall. All that time wasted moping. Why was it so hard to be productive. Finally Elyse stood, got her medication and took it. It was becoming a habit now. When she changed her clothes, it wasn’t to get ready for the day. She changed inter her exercise clothes. She had enough of this moping shit. 

She pulled out tape and began to wrap her hands and wrists. There was a punching bag in the gym. And she was going to beat the shit out of it. Today was going to be a good day. She was determined to make it so. Wrapping completed, she pulled her hair into a pony tail, stretched, and then headed downstairs. 

Right now, the dojo was empty, but it may or may not be that way soon. Elyse didn’t hesitate, she just went to the bag and hit it, immediately feeling better. She it hit it again. Then again. Each time she hit it she felt the crappy emotions leaving. She began to move around the bag, getting her footwork in. She lost herself in the exercise, focused on her breathing. This felt good. It felt really good.

Jacob was itching for a hunt. Moscow was different. It didn't work like it did back home. But the database was handy once he got one young lady who was a pistol whip of a character to help him figure it all out. She was awful flirty but Jacob didn't mind. It made it all worth it in the end.

There were a lot of details in this database. And even a few unknowns, Jacob liked the unknown the potential for danger.  He reached out through the system to the hunter who catalogued the report.

It took Jacob a few minutes to get the message sent out through their encrypted system but he did figure it out without any help at all.

Quote:This cave?  What can you tell me about it?  Thinking about taking a trip out there.

After seeing Jay and reality set in, it was time to tell people who might help, or would give a fuck. But the fact was, he was incapable of doing jobs that he had been hired to do.

The first text he sent to Jacob.

Need to talk. Pick a day/time/place and I'll be there

Jacob's reply came back rather quickly

Going Hunt. Meet up afterwards

The Atharim needed to know he could no longer hunt channelers. He could but it was far more dangerous and more likely to get caught and he really didn't want to anyway.  But it was what it was and he would sit down with Jacob and they'd talk.

The second text went to his contact for the Ascendancy.

I need to debrief with the Ascendancy himself. In person. Important information to relay.

He was pretty sure that the whole thing would be a hassle and that they'd have to go in and out of negotiations on whether or  not to let him near the ascendancy. He's had ample opportunity to kill the leader of the known world he could have done it many times -- not that he'd survive the encounter,

Hours later the response came with a date and time and Nox was there at the Kremlin fifteen minutes before the appointment and walked into the Kremlin sans gun and knife even though he absolutely no protection for dying now. He unzipped his coat as he walked inside, he missed the warm bundle of baby he usually kept nestled against his chest, but now wasn't the time. 

His voice was neutral, devoid of any emotion as he walked up to the desk. "I have an appointment with the Ascendancy."  He wasn't wearing a suit like everyone else in the building. He was getting the side eye from security. He didn't care. He didn't feel anything. It wasn't like he was a stranger, he'd been here a few times before, dressed exactly the same, jeans, t-shirt except this time he work heavy hiking boots to stay warm and keep traction as he walked the streets of Moscow.  He should use the car Sage provided them, but he didn't. He could drive if he truly wanted to but it all seemed so frivolous and he didn't want to be in a car anymore than he had to. He preferred his own two feet.  Living in a car tarnished the luxury.

Nox showed the receptionist his ID and they went through the whole thing. He wondered how many hoops he'd have to jump through.

Continued from The Long Way Home


The car dropped Jay off at the curb. Medsi hospital rose in modern lines of glass and chrome, its facade glowing with lighting that bled softly into the icy sleet. Not quite elite, but high enough up the ladder that you needed real clearance or money to walk through the doors without a sideways glance.

The lobby was quiet at this hour, a lull between the late-night accidents and the pre-dawn emergencies. A security drone floated overhead, trailing a soft green light as it scanned his face and credentials. Dominion crest visible on his coat again, now that he’d removed the over-layer, he stepped to the triage counter.

A woman in hospital blues looked up. Her eyes flicked to the swelling hand he kept cradled against his chest.

“Emergency?” she asked, almost automatically. “Do you have clearance or are you paying out of pocket?”
“Clearance.” Jay replied, voice rough from the cold. He reached into his coat, withdrew a slim card, and let her scan it.

Her expression shifted. Not friendlier. Just more efficient.

“Take a seat. Someone will see you shortly.”

Jay nodded and moved to the low row of waiting chairs along the far wall. He might have gone to the Facility, but the place still gave him the creeps, and getting in at this hour would be an even bigger pain in the ass than a quick dash into an actual hospital.

He sank into the seat and leaned back, wincing as the motion jostled his hand. He didn’t look at his wallet nor at any unread messages there. Instead, he closed his eyes and listened to the slow drip of water off his coat onto the clean tile floor, and tried to relax. It went horribly.