[Aramantha]

Letter addressed to the Branchian capital, published in the Branchian Bugle (The BB) on August 10th, 2023:

Dearest Mr. Levensky, and for that matter whoever else it may concern,

My name is Lily Nils. For eighteen years I have worked as a professional hitman, assassin, and torture artist for the Branchian government. But you already probably know that. What you don’t know is that six years ago, I began a campaign to take down this corrupt and fraudulent excuse for a government from the inside. With the invaluable help of Mr. Andreas Holgersen of Zongongia, I have gathered concrete evidence of this government’s misdeeds and intend on releasing them in a public exposé in three days. 

So why write this letter then? I write this to petition Mr. Levensky to reveal his crimes and repent to the world of his own free will. Even the evilest of men must know when they’ve been defeated, and I allow you now one last chance for some kind of redemption in the eyes of the law. If not, you will meet your downfall, I promise you that. 

I hope this nations burns and both of us know exactly why, Mr. Levensky.

Best wishes,

Lily

•••

Tulen Levensky tapped his fingers against the desk.

“Get them.” he growled to the council gathered in the room

The room sprang into action. Seven phone calls were initiated, two men went downstairs to collect weapons, three computers began tracking locations. Cogs in an endless and lovely machine. God Tulen loved this place. 

What he did not love was the job ahead. 

The threat was hogwash of course. Whether or not such evidence had been gathered, they must have known that publishing a warning in advance could not, under any circumstances, end well for them. What was far more important was dealing with everything else. Tulen had spies in the BB, how had they not stopped that letter from being published? If the supposed co-writer was in fact a real person, how on earth was he expected to deal with the foreign affairs debacle that was bound to come out of that? Not to mention, if the Zongongian government had somehow been funding a project to take down Thousand Branches from within, how on earth had his spies there not figured this out?

In theory, some of these questions were things for his lackeys to answer. His spy connections were already hard at work gauging the Zongongian response. The editor of the BB had been taken into “questioning” aka interrogation (aka torture). The defacto control of the BB had then fallen to his plants there, who were now tracking the letter’s path to the offices of BB, a search that had already revealed it was sent from inside the country.

His team of investigators were at work, tearing apart the Nils woman’s home. His hitmen had assembled and were ready to go on a moment’s notice. Internet access had been restricted across the country to filter every user through the surveillance department. Everything working at maximum efficiency and yet he still had one major problem facing him. The public.

This country stood for freedom of information, right? Such was the facade that must be kept anyway. So the article has to continue to be allowed to run. By the time it made it to the public, an attempt to cover it up would only made them more suspicious. So the question was how could Levensky give the public something to chew on without breaking the facade? What crime could he reveal to pull the curtain over the eyes of 13 million people? 

It was just the way his brain worked. Ever logical in the face of infinite strain. Which isn’t to say Levensky was a man to look up to in any way, shape, or form, but to say that he was damn good at what he did. 

The next morning he would have a press conference. He would cry and admit something, some small crime, and suddenly he would be the victim in the eyes of the Branchian peoples. He would attend a religious ceremony to cleanse his crimes. He would shed his blood for the people of Thousand Branches and they would cheer for him. They would believe him the epitome of morality. He was just that good.

Or so he believed.

•••

Lily Nils was so very glad to not be alone.

Even as a professional murderer and a longtime underground agent of a corrupt organization, she was terrified. She was sitting, contemplating her death, knowing the end would be here soon. But at least she wasn’t alone. 

And damnit if she didn’t have one last adventure in her.

[Lauchenoiria]

The Zongongian Intelligence Agency was severely underfunded and understaffed. Their director, Helmi Byström, had been all but begging Parliament for additional funding, especially after Kerlian agents murdered a whole group of Zongongian postal workers. Indeed, the lack of funding meant ZIA could do almost nothing to counter the whole host of Kerlian spies who thought it was their Goddess-given right to wander all over Zongongia poking their noses into things.

Byström was not a fan of Zongongia’s policy of appeasement towards Kerlile.

“Director? Have you seen this?” one of the young analysts, Ebba Olsen, called to her. Byström walked over to peer at Olsen’s computer.

“What am I looking at?”

“This is a letter published in the Branchian Bugle some days ago. Someone threatening to reveal some nebulous government crimes. But that’s not the part that drew my attention. Andreas Holgersen. I recognised the name. He was a reporter for the Zongongian Gazette who supposedly died in Thousand Branches like, six years ago. Unless this letter is real, in which case…”

“You think he’s alive?” Byström asked.

“It’s possible, ma’am,” Olsen nodded. “We never had a body. Or a confirmation of death. He just disappeared. This makes more sense than him wandering off into the woods and getting eaten by a bear, or something.”

“In which case you think he’s in danger of being hunted by Thousand Branches? You wouldn’t have called me over if you didn’t think there was something else concerning here. He’s a Zongongian citizen, which makes his wellbeing our business.”

“If he is alive, he disappeared for a reason,” Olsen remarked. “And I doubt we’ll ever find out if we don’t find him before Thousand Branches does.”

“Great,” Byström remarked. “Just what we need. Something else to drain our money.”

*

Andreas Holgersen had always wanted to investigate something that matters. He had studied investigative journalism at university, and when he first took a job on the health beat at the Zongongian Gazette, he’d expected it to be a temporary measure to pay the bills while he looked for something more exciting.

That had turned into a whole decade of waiting.

So, when he was on assignment in Thousand Branches to write about new developments in cancer research, only to stumble upon something much, much bigger; he was eager to take up the opportunity. Now, though, he feared what was about to happen. He only had to hope that he might, possibly, survive. You never know.

[Aramantha]

Contrary to the opinion of the most important man in Thousand Branches, Lily Nils was not an idiot. A woman with a strict, sometimes inconvenient moral code yes, but not stupid. After all, she’d been studying the inside secrets of the Branchian nation for years. She knew this world from the inside out. Which is why she’d taken such painstaking precautions sending the letter into the Bugle. 

In fact, the letter was intended to act as a long and winding wild goose chase. Sure, the chase would catch up to Lily eventually, but she was reasonably confident that the long trail of increasingly irritating clues would not be solved by the time she was long gone. She had also, for several years now, ensured that the police had no other paths to finding her. She had cut connections with dozens of old friends, spoken nothing to her coworkers or her leaders for nearly a year, and constantly changed where she shopped at. She had been about as thorough as you could be.

•••

3 Weeks Ago, a Remote Cabin in the Woods


Mel Kines, editor-in-chief of the Branchian Bugle, sat at a rickety wooden table, paging over the most damning exposé she had read in her almost 14 years of working at the Bugle. Evidence of biological weaponry, hired assassins, spy networks spanning across the world, and crazy, sick leaders. Mel was not perhaps as naive as most of the country. She’d been an investigative reporter for many years and she’d uncovered several secrets the government perhaps did not want her publishing, but this was an entirely new level. This would destroy Thousand Branches and expose… more than she could’ve possibly imagined to the world on an enormous scale. This was… incredible.

“Why are you showing me this?” she asked, looking up from her reading

Lily smiled, rocking her chair back and forth. “I know you. I know you would never dare to sit on something this huge.”

“You’re right. I need to publish this immediately.” she said, gathering up the papers hurriedly

“No.” came Lily’s voice from the corner

“No? I thought you just said-”

“We can’t publish yet. I’m obligated to give a chance for the government to come clean before I ruin them.”

“That’s… stupid!” yelled Mel, completely flabbergasted

“Maybe, but that isn’t all. What do you think happens when we publish this? Andy and I? I give us maybe a 20% chance of living through this debacle. But if you publish this in your paper? You join us. You put your life on the line. You expect to come out of this dead. You have a family Mel, and a life. You need not die for this cause.” Lily said, coming to sit across from Mel

Mel mulled it over, flipping idly through the pages again as she considered what Lily had just told her. Part of her knew Lily was right, martyrdom was silly, but if this exposé was lost before it could reach the public she could never forgive herself. 

“Why did you take me here then? If you didn’t want me to publish this?” asked Mel

“Because I want you to publish this.” Lily replied, brandishing a small white envelope addressed to the BB, “My final ultimatum to the government.” 

“Wouldn’t this get me in just as much trouble?” asked Mel

“The worst they’ll do is interrogate you. The beauty of it is that until this exposé is published, the facade must be maintained. And that means they can’t get rid of you. They can’t take the article out of circulation. They can’t stop you because it would be entirely too obvious, even for as gullible a population as ours.” replied Lily

“Sure, but if you were trying to convince me that was acceptable, you probably shouldn’t have shown me the page about how government interrogation is just torture.” said Mel with a chuckle

Lily waved her off, continuing. “ They won’t have to go that far. Torture is a tactic for people who don’t tell them everything they want to know. You’ll tell them about the exposé, us, the cabin, the letter, and even what I’m saying right now. By the time this letter is published in a few weeks, we’ll have long since abandoned this hideout. We’ll have wiped this place clean. And everything else you have to say is what they already know. Torture only really works if the subject is hiding something.”

“What happens after the exposé surfaces?”

“You get the hell out of this country as fast as you possibly can. Andy and I can probably give you a certain amount of refugee protection in Zongongia, assuming of course that we make it out alive.” Nils said, suddenly deadly serious, “You’ve got three weeks before I send this letter to the BB. Get your family ready to get the hell out. Get yourself ready to get the hell out. That is, if you’re willing to take that risk.”

Mel mulled it over. On the one hand, her reporter side couldn’t possibly let something like this go, but on the other hand, how could she allow her family to be put in that kind of danger for the sake of her job? But as the options weighed in her mind, she knew one thing: her wife would never forgive her if she gave up something this big for her sake. 

“Alright. I’ll do it. But if this doesn’t work, I want you to know you’re not a hero. Your morals may be your morals but if they cost this country or my family their lives, that is on you. And nobody will give a damn about your morality.” Mel said

Lily sighed, “I know.” 

•••

Present Day,  Office of Tulen Levensky

Neil Sanderson, head assistant to the president, stood at attention as Tulen Levensky relayed his orders to him. It was a daily grind working here. He wouldn’t wish it on anyone in a million years but damn it, it paid the bills and at the end of the day, that was all he needed to be content. The orders began to swim in his head – “Call Linda, tell my maid to clean out the fucking trash can, tell Jacques to fuck off if he comes asking again, call a press conference” – it was the same things he heard every day and sometimes he just sort of zoned out and remembered them all later. 

“Hey!” yelled Tulen, “Are you listening to me? This shit is important for fuck’s sake.” 

“Yes sir. Attentively.” Neil responded, knocked out of his stupor, “When did you want that press conference?”

“Give it let’s say… four days. I want to make sure we have all the press gathered too, and I mean everyone you can possibly contact,” replied Tulen

“Does that include international agencies?” asked Neil

“Are they fucking reporters you clod? E-ve-ry-one. It’s not that hard.” he growled

“Yes sir,” responded Neil through gritted teeth

“Good. Now get out of my sight.” 

It was odd to Neil. Tulen was never particularly kind. His cold and distant demeanor was well documented. But this was new. He’d very rarely been yelled at, certainly not so openly. He must have been in a bad mood, and it wasn’t really any surprise. After the bombshell in the BB, everyone was on edge, it definitely didn’t surprise Neil that the accused felt much the same. Neil supposed that was likely what the conference was for too. But damn was it gonna be a long day ahead.

[Aramantha]

Levensky

God I hate press conferences.

You’d think after all my years of public speaking and politics, I could wrap up a press conference. You’d think with my seemingly tightly woven handle on everything going on in this country would make this easier. It doesn’t and at some point I’ve stopped trying to believe it ever will.

There’s a certain fear of god instilled in the man who stands in front of a crowd of people he represents and lies. And that’s all press conferences are, targeted lying. Politics are a lie, religion is a lie, everything is a lie, sure. But not even the reporters ever fully believe what comes out of the mouth of the man behind the stand. Even morally there’s a certain struggle. Don’t I have a certain obligation to tell the truth? At some point, shouldn’t this facade of transparency become reality?

But it’s all for naught. To reveal the truth to the citizenry would be to exile this country to civil war. And if I must be the one tortured by my own conscience, better I than a million citizens. It sounds arrogant to believe that, even in my own thoughts. I believe myself some martyr for this country when I’m just covering up all the hell underneath and saving my own ass. Sure.

But fuck it.

If I’m not a martyr I’m a killer. If I’m not sacrificing myself, I’m sanctioning terrorism. Even in my lowest of moments I think too highly of myself to ever believe that option the truth. Think of that what you will, I really don’t care.

As I climb the stairs and stand at the podium, I can feel the uncountable eyes on me. The reporters, the representatives, the crowd gathered behind, the broadcasts straight to televisions across the country. Everyone is watching.

I smile, and begin my speech.

“Dearest citizens and others. I know you have must have read the article published this week in the Bugle. I’m sure you have a thousand questions, and today I intend to answer all of them. But first, I’d like to come clean. I’d like to clear my conscience and finally stand for this country’s very soul.

Three years ago, during my re-election campaign, I received a letter with photographs. Photographs of my spouse with a different partner. Photographs of me entering a brothel. Along with it came a blackmail note, and in my infinite human weakness, I complied with it. I gave my blackmailer money. Enough money to empty my bank account. And during the height of that re-election campaign I found myself low on funds and was forced to resort to bribes from several interested parties in policy-making decision. In the end, I let none of them affect my judgment, but I still took their money and in doing so have sullied my hands.

That isn’t all either. The blackmailer wasn’t satisfied, continuing to request more and more money from me. And in my fear I continued to comply until they finally went further. They asked me to veto a bill. Bill 367.14: Ban on Forced Pregnancy. As those involved in the abortion argument well know, against my better judgment, I complied. My weakness is the reason women don’t have access to abortion healthcare today and for those affected by that I can never atone. Never. But I hope that in coming clean I can finally come out from under this shadow of blackmail and bring this country back to the free and transparent society it was always intended to be.

Thank you. I hope someday I can regain your trust.”

I had ‘em and I knew it. Baldfaced lies, complete and utter bullshit, but I could read that pity on the faces of every person standing in the crowd.

It wasn’t over by any means. I’d be grilled by reporters for another half hour. In all likelihood I’d be called upon to blood let. But the worst of it was over. And damn if there wasn’t a sick joy in knowing I’d absolutely nailed it.

[Aramantha]

Mission 883 was the last one I faced without moral qualms. Eight hundred and eighty three missions before my conscience kicked in. Eight hundred and eighty three targets eliminated. Eight hundred and eighty three people dead. By my hands.
By now the number is upwards of a thousand. Unfortunately my moral qualms have not helped me actually stop killing. Six years I’ve slaved through everything. Shed a tear with each body. Of every mission I’ve ever faced only one, 883, has lived. At least for now.

•••

January 17th, 2017
Mission 883 - Lily Nils
Target: Andreas Holgersen, rogue Zongongian journalist
Target is attempting to investigate deeper into LarinRilarin Labs, home of the Jackie Project. Asset must be kept secret at all costs. Interlopers must be eliminated in secret. Body cannot be found. Zongongian government cannot be alerted. Cover story must be developed to halt investigation.
You have three days.
Eliminate.

•••

Poor Mr. Holgersen wasn’t the first Zongongian I’d been asked to take out. At the same time, I’m not sure I could tell you the names of a single one. Such is the life. In the back of my mind, I’d felt the dying stages of my conscience for many years now. To be able to kill so many people and not remember a single name is scary. There is no world where that can be considered moral. Not in war, not in peace. But I’d ignored it for years, right? Why stop now?

Our poor Zongongian friend was a reporter. A little extra research told me he’s been sent by the Zongongian Gazette, a well respected Zongongian media outlet, on the health beat. A little inferring had told me he’d looked just a touch too deep and stumbled across something our “great” leaders didn’t want him looking at.
I arrived at his cabin at noon, the house I’d been told he was staying in. The job was simpler than usual. Kill him, bury his body in the woods, leave no trace. The rest was up to the story riggers. They’d find some reason for him to have disappeared and that would be that. All done.

The house, unfortunately, was empty. It wasn’t an uncommon experience in this line of work but it did mean I had to sit in a freezing cabin in the woods until I could shoot the man in the head. Damnit I just really wasn’t in the mood. Boredom set in quickly and I spent some time surveying the house. It was a nice cabin honestly. Secluded, dark but not lonely, full of all of the homely furnishings of a place well cared for. I remember wondering at the time how a foreign reporter had even scored such a place. I also remember putting it on my list of potential houses to buy.

Eventually I stumbled across a manila folder. It was laid out haphazardly on the mantle to the fireplace. Inside it, several pages of documents, pictures, writings, and half-finished articles lay in no particular order.

It’s funny to think that boredom, at the end of all of it, is what made me change my life. Not a desire to do better or a need to save lives but simple boredom. And, of course, Andreas Holgersen.

The folder contained information. More information than I could’ve ever dreamed of. Government secrets, projects, ideas, spy networks, everything. I was so immersed in reading it all that I didn’t even recognize the opening of the door as Andreas returned home.

“Good stuff, eh?” he mused, sipping from a mug with one hand and pointing a peashooter at my head with the other

My hand immediately shot to the gun on the side table before I heard the cock of his gun and put up my hands above my head, resigned.

“Shoot me if you wish. Don’t miss, you’ll be dead in a second.” I said, my eyes cold

It wasn’t the first time I’d had a gun to my head obviously, and damnit I’d survived it a hundred times before.

“That’s why I’m not planning on shooting it.” He said, “At the end of the day I’d say we both want the same thing, wouldn’t you? Neither of us want to die. Let’s negotiate.”

“Wait. I have a better idea. My job, as I’m sure you’ve guessed with the whole gun and breaking into your house shtick, is to kill you. Given what I’m reading right now, I’m guessing both of us know exactly why.” I replied, gesturing to the papers spread on the table in front of me

“Yeah.” he said in reply

“I want to join you.” I said

“Bullshit, you just said you wanted to kill me.”

“No, I said it was my job to kill you. After reading that, the last thing I want to do is kill any more for this government.” I explained

“You must know how suspicious that sounds. I may be young but I’m not stupid.” he replied

“How do I get you to believe me? This is the most incredible piece of investigative work I think I’ve ever seen, without any connections in government as far as I can see. I work for the government, the secret branch at that. You can’t possibly pass up on an opportunity for that kind of inside information.” I said

“Sure I can. You’re a trained killer. The moment I put this gun down I’m getting a bullet between my teeth.” he said incredulously

My response came in the form of one foot slashing to the side, flipping the table on its side. My gun slid across the room and papers flew about in a flurry.

“There, now I can’t get my gun anymore.” I said, gesturing toward my gun across the room

“And how do I know you’re not carrying anything else?” He asked

“Oh I totally am. Would you like me to strip as well?” I asked, “I can do a million things but you’ll never know I can’t kill you. It is, after all, my job. But here’s a question for you. Do you think you can handle this job alone? Do you think you can take on the government like this and live? I know there’s a voice somewhere in your mind that knows you won’t make it on your own. So it’s up to you. Kill me, right now, and another agent will be sent in my place. Or, let me join you and you’ll be as safe as you can possibly be under the circumstances.”

He was silent for a moment but I could see in his eyes he knew I was right. If it wasn’t me, it was someone else. If it wasn’t them, there’d be another. I was his only chance to be able to investigate in secret and probably his only chance to live at all.

“Fine.”

And just like that, both of our lives changed. Officially he was dead and the mission was complete. I sent photo evidence back and they spun a story. And the next day I went to work like every day before. But every night I would sneak to a remote cabin in the woods and continue working my real job. Until now.

For the first time in six years, that cabin is empty. For the first time in six years, I haven’t had to kill someone this week. For the first time in six years, my life is in immediate danger. And strangely, I wouldn’t trade any of it for a second. It sounds cheesy worded that way but one wonders how long they could’ve killed for the system before they themself became a part of it. Andy was my savior in a way. My last chance out of a life that was corrupting what little morality I had left. And at the end of the day, we might change the world. Isn’t that incredible?

[Lauchenoiria]

Zongongian Intelligence Agency HQ, Zongongia
Present Day

"Listen, we don't know anything… yeah okay… yeah, uh huh… great, send it over right away," Helmi Byström finished, hanging up on the editor of the Zongongian Gazette. She sighed and spun her chair back around to face her subordinate, Ebba Olsen.

"They're sending us everything they've got on Holgersen," Byström said. "You really think he's still alive?"

"I do," nodded Olsen. "There is something odd happening in Thousand Branches. I don't like it, and I don't believe it's about an affair and an abortion bill for one second. The more I look, the more things don't add up."

"Well, we better find out fast," Byström replied grimly. "Those idiots in Our Zongongia are trying to use this as a vote winner by claiming all foreigners can't be trusted. Meanwhile Kristensen and the government are staying out of anything controversial. So if shit hits the fan, they'll be blaming us."

"Great," Olsen replied, sarcastically.

"Director, we caught another Kerlian sneaking across the border," came a voice from the door, another employee.

"Do I look like the asylum department to you?" Byström snapped.

"She was carrying vials of poison and threatening Prince Kristofer."

"Oh, for rocks' sake!" Byström growled. "Olsen, keep working on Thousand Branches. If we find evidence he's alive, then I'll authorise use of a field agent for extraction. If you find evidence, and not before."

"Yes, ma'am," Olsen nodded, getting back to work.

[Aramantha]

Ganiri Woods, 30 miles from the Southern Border

“Down now!”

Lily shoved her companion’s head down with her as they both slammed to the ground, just avoiding the spray of bullets passing overhead.

“Surrender or die.” A voice calls from the forest, masked behind a robotic drawl

Lily motioned for silence and the two laid in the grass for what felt like an eternity, hearts beating at a hundred miles an hour. They’d prepared, luckily, for a situation just like this one, although they hoped it would never come. In full camouflage and lightweight equipment, the two were decked out for stealth in the vast Branchian woods.

They now found themselves near the Southern border of Thousand Branches. Maybe 30 more miles and they would’ve made it across without a trace of interference. Lily knew though, that the security would be stronger at the border — they’d be looking here first.

But now they were cornered. Even a good camouflage falls apart upon close enough inspection. And knowing the Branchian government, the scout had already called for backup, likely backup with infra red tracking. They had to get out of here now. Only problem, they move and they get their bodies peppered with the led of the scout’s gun. What they needed was a distraction. Some way to take the scout’s attention for just long enough that they could sprint the hell out of there. And she had just the thing.

Capital Building, Office of Tulen Levensky

Tulen Levensky was not a shy man. Nor was he a man who backed down from anything. He’d been elected six years ago on a platform of strength. The people believed him an untoppleable pillar, a man who would stand as a bastion for the nation no matter what came.

Now he waited in his office for what felt like an eternity. He knew the Zongongians had sent out feelers after their missing journalist. He knew the pair were nearing the border every day without any news of their capture. He knew if they escaped and this story went public, there was nothing in the world that could stop it.

He had expected to find them weeks ago. It felt, for a time, like a paltry threat — two people in way over their heads, destined to die holding the very secrets they planned to reveal. He’d underestimated how good the capital’s assassin program was. Nils was a highly capable assassin, thief, and master of any kind of murder. They’d trained her that way after all. Her mission log went back nearly 11 years. But one assassin could only hold out for so long.

They had garnered certain clues in the search for her. A guard at the Southern town of Ondil had turned up dead, throat slit without even being able to sound the alarm. Almost certainly the work of Nils. From there they’d tracked her into the South and set up several temporary camps across the Southern border. An impenetrable wall. She wasn’t making it out of the country alive, not unless she had a wealth of miracles up her sleeve.

The more irritating of the member, however, was the journalist. He’d received three calls from Zongongian government departments in the last two weeks, all of them probing into the supposed death of the man. At some point, Levensky would no longer be able turn them away without sounding even more suspicious. Problem was, like any of the government’s planned murders, they didn’t have a body. And an attempt to forge one wouldn’t work with all of the extensive technology in criminology today.

The prevailing story was that he’d disappeared into the woods many years ago and never returned. That was the story they’d set up years ago. No body and no reason for there ever to be a body. Eaten by animals, drowned in the stream, bones taken by wildlife and fungi. Such bodies simply were never found. But at the same time, Levensky had noticed how common this story came up in the nation’s planned murders. He had never directly overseen the BID (Branchian Intelligence Department) and had always assumed the directors would be… well… intelligent. But now one could go into the history of the last 20 years of unsolved government cases and find a suspiciously high number of accidental disappearances. Even in a country surrounded by forest, there was no common reason for this to exist (not to mention how many had links to anti-government and foreign powers).

Fuck.

So Levensky could do nothing but sit and wait for the call. It would come, but would it come quickly enough?

Ganiri Woods, 8 miles from the Southern Border

The alarm blared.

“Finally!” Jack exclaimed, jumping up from his perch and mounting his armor, “Can’t fucking wait to put a bullet through that traitor’s eyes.”

“Oh shut up Jack, you’re just mad because you had a thing for her.” The voice came from Kila, his partner in the field, who was also quickly gearing up

“Am not! I care about this country and whatever.”

The two bust out laughing.

“Oh my god can you imagine?” Jack asked, nudging open to the door to their carrier.

“I really and truly can’t. Anyone who cares about this shithole is an idiot. But damn if they don’t give us money and let us kill people for them.” Kila said with a smile, “Ain’t nothing better than that.”

The carrier dug it’s tires into the dirt. It was a vehicle designed to traverse those kinds of quarters — thin, nimble, but still heavily armored. They rarely had a chance to use it these days since most missions had to be done through stealth, but not today.

It revved through the mud as the two finished gearing up, their goggles going on as they sped into the woods.

Ganiri Woods, 30 miles from the Southern Border

“Listen Andy.” Lily whispered to her companion, “We’ve only got one shot at this. In my bag I’ve got three flares. That’s it. I’m gonna grab them and lure him away.”

Andreas started to argue but she cut him off before he could interrupt.

“Listen. We have no other option Andy. You know I’m good at my job. You know I can do a damn good job of keeping these idiots on the run. No doubt they’ve got a dozen mercenaries en route right now. We agreed, remember? That alarm bell rings, only one of us is making it out alive. That person has to be you.”

She tucked the flash drive into his pocket, nodding and reaching for her bag.

“Maybe I make it out, right?” she said with a halfhearted smile, and she began to run

Immediately the gunfire came back up, sending the air into a spray of bark and leaves. She pulled a flare from her bag as she ran, lighting it and throwing it into the haze. Instantly, the floor set alight, the flames licking happily at the debris. Perfect. She whistled, making sure the scout still had track of her and she ran deeper and deeper into the woods.

30 minutes passed. She now lay against the backside of a tree, catching her breath. She’d been running almost nonstop for the last hour. The scout had been, while helpful in this situation, annoyingly constitute. And it was only going to get worse. She could already hear the engines of the Carriers on their way and when they arrived she didn’t have a chance. But she did have a plan.

3 months ago she’d raided a base on the North docks of Palas. Inside she’d recovered hundreds of kilos of cocaine, but not before insurgent guns had torn through half of them, leaving a cloud of cocaine dust across the entire compound. Did she have hundreds of kilos of cocaine on her now? No… but she did have a bag of flour prepped to explode on a trigger, essentially a makeshift smoke bomb. It wouldn’t help with the infra red of course, but it would confuse them enough for her to maybe make a getaway. And of course, she still had one more flare.

The carriers arrived, carrying with them 8 highly trained mercenaries.

Crouched again behind a tree, Lily slowly lifted the flour trap from her bag, rolling it slightly forward before detonating it. Immediately, the flour shot across the entire region.

And Lily fucking ran. Even as she pulled the flare out and lit it. Even as she threw it into the haze. Even as the entire world behind her blazed bright, sparkling orange for less than a second.

She just hoped it would be enough.

[Lauchenoiria]

Monday, 25th September 2023

“Are you sure that shots were fired?”

“Fairly sure the whole world is aware; or their intelligence services at least,” Ebba Olsen replied, not even looking up from her computer. “Numerous reports of heavy gunfire, in addition to new military encampments popping up across Thousand Branches’ southern border. Something is going on. The timing is deeply suspicious.”

“Not good, not good,” Helmi Byström shook her head. “This timing is far too coincidental, and the more we look the less likely it seems that Holgersen’s alleged death actually took place. Chances are he’s alive and on the run from the Branchians.”

“For now,” Olsen pointed out. Byström glared at her.

“I need to call in the Prime Minister on this now,” Byström sighed. “We might actually have to do something.”

This would indeed be a surprise, Olsen thought but did not say. It had been quite some years since the Zongongian intelligence service did anything other than watch and listen. Actually acting? No, that had not been their job for a while. But times change.

*

Prime Minister Ivan Kristensen of Zongongia signed his name at the bottom of his letter to the Branchian government, sealed the envelope, and handed it grimly to Byström. He did not need this; after the election people had been protesting constantly outside his office, and the last thing Zongongia needed was a foreign crisis alongside domestic unrest. The royals were already angering Eiria; this was too much.

Still, if Thousand Branches was hunting down a Zongongian citizen, and a journalist nonetheless, he had to act. It had been his policy to slowly inch out of Zongongia’s isolation and join the world stage as a more active player once again. As much as he may regret it some days, he had to walk the path he had paved for himself.

His letter, in a perfect display of polite-with-an-undertone-of-threat, asked the Branchian government to kindly explain what was going on; what had happened to Andreas Holgersen; why it looked like they were hunting down a Zongongian citizen; and just what exactly is going on up there in the north?

*

Andreas Holgersen was feeling much more nervous without Lily by his side. He was making very slow progress through the Branchian forest due to his caution, moving so quietly and checking his trail. Every snap of a twig under the paw of a woodland creature felt like a gunshot to the hypervigilant Holgersen.

He knew which way was south, but rocks, he didn’t know how he would cross the border, as heavily-fortified as it would now be. Thousand Branches was, he thought, like some kind of sinister land from a fairy tale. It lured you in with promises of sunshine and rainbows, and then trapped you when you least expected it with the horrifying truth staring you in the face: too late, always too late to get out.

Holgersen had to make it out. Not just for himself, but for everyone taken in by the allure of Thousand Branches. The rot at the heart of its government needed to be dragged into the light of day. But they would not have gotten away with hiding it for so long if they were not good at silencing those who wished the truth to get out. It would be very difficult for him to get out, if it was possible at all.

Still, he had to try. So, he continued to slowly, slowly creep south towards the border. Hoping.

[Aramantha]

Tulen Levensky was livid. He didn’t use that word very often. It reminded him of lilies, which reminded him of tulips, which reminded him of how which he was bullied for having a feminine name as a child.

But in this situation, there wasn’t a better word. He was good and viciously livid. Incompetence. He was surrounded by incompetence. An intelligence agency incapable of the simplest tasks; a foreign government with some kind of bitchy moral chip on their shoulder; and an indignant former soldier who just did not want to talk. Not to mention the doctors and the journalists and the damn citizens chanting for some kind of bullshit freedom.

None of these people understood freedom. None of these people understood anything. How can a country known for its education lead such a daft fucking population? How can a people so completely useless be such a ridiculous thorn in his ass?

“Excuse me… sir.”

A small voice from the doorway, his assistant Neil Sanderson.

“What?” he growled

“Just um- the Zongongians are really pushing me for a response.”

“Tell them to shove off. How many times do I have to say this?”

“I’m sorry sir, I’m afraid they’re threatening to come in person.”

“Sanderson. Tell. Them. To. Shove. Off. Just… which word of this are you missing?”

“…yes sir.”

•••

Neil Sanderson walked to his desk. He pulled his phone off the receiver and dialed a number that had been given to him by a fellow assistant. Someone he respected. Someone who must’ve been working under a much kinder leader. A better leader. Maybe even a good man.

“Hello?” came the voice on the other line

“Yes, this is Neil Sanderson, assistant to President Levensky of Thousand Branches. I’ve been given the all-clear to set up a meeting with Zongongian authorities. Would you be able to meet?”

•••

Lily was good and thoroughly beat to hell. It was almost funny. Almost. Maybe if it didn’t hurt like the dickens. But poetic irony could be so very sweet. The people who had taught her how to steel herself now found themselves attempting to break that very will.

They were right though. It was far, far more painful in a real situation.

Then again, Lily had never let pain stop her before. Or anything else for that matter. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to give up Holgersen — not when so much was on the line. Given the urgency with which this “interrogation” was proceeding, she guessed he was getting close too. Or the Zongongians were closing in. Either way, they needed something from her, and  they needed it fast.

And it would be a cold day in the devil’s cage before she gave them a lick of his destination.

•••

Levensky had just been drafting a letter when he received the call. Zongongians confirming an appointment. One he really couldn’t say no to. He made a mental note to fire Sanderson. Of course, Sanderson was already long gone, but he didn’t know that yet. Nor did he care. It was more to have something to be angry at. Other than everything, of course. But now he had to argue this case in front of judge, jury, and executioner.

How the hell was he supposed to cover all this up? There were damn army camps on the border. If the media had a sniff of that, there’d be bloodhounds sniffing in every corner of every filing cabinet from here to Lauchenoiria. He wasn’t. As he saw it, there were four options:

Own up to it all and resign. This would likely end in prison, torture, and eventually death by the hands of some infection from a toilet water covered toothbrush shiv.
Attempt to create a guise. With active army camps and extraordinary chaos, that would likely involve either a declaration of war or something beyond any excuse he had ever created before. This would likely end in public ridicule or a whole lot of foreign nations on his ass. And not in a good way.
Declare war on Zongongia. He didn’t fancy being bombed.
Run.

One of those was looking increasingly appealing. If only they could find one errant fucking journalist. Good god what a fucking joke.