CHAPTER 17

“America’s Shadow”

July 11th, 2040: C.I.A New York Branch, New York

  Inside the director’s office, located just a few floors below the top floor. Director Stevens rocked his black-leather office chair rhythmically from side to side. All the while, his focus was mostly directed to the flatscreen tv in front of his desk. On-screen, was President Dresden giving a speech to congress but more importantly, to the nation at large.

“My fellow Americans. Just over one month ago, our reality experienced a paradigm shift, both to our way of living and our view on the universe…shattered. I know many of you have been traumatized because of the transfer, and are afraid of what it could mean, should we look at the larger picture. I also know that many of you are desperate for answers about your friends, brothers, sisters or loved ones in the military. To that I say, this administration is doing everything within its power to bring you answers; this however, has brought grave news from across The North Atlantic. My fellow Americans, we are at war with a foreign power. On the 26th of June, Ramstein Airbase was deliberately attacked, by approximately eight-thousands soldiers from this foreign power. But by the brave men and women at Ramstein, their attack was thwarted and the enemy was reported retreating while sustaining staggering losses. Once news of this act had reached me, as acting Commander in Chief, I ordered the deployment of forty-thousand soldiers to Ramstein. On the 1st of July, I approved the request to commence Operation Phoenix. For the past three days and many more to come, airstrikes against these aggressors are being conducted, and as I speak, plans for offensive campaigns are being created to launch a decisive counter-attack against these aggressors, with the objective of rescuing as many Americans as humanly possible. With the support of congress, an additional fifty billion dollars has been allocated towards offensive and defensive structures to bases outside US soil. Also, under advisement from Secretary-General Edwards, the purchase of war bonds is now in effect. To those who wish to support our military but more importantly, wish to keep inflation from becoming rampant, I implore you, buy these bonds. Looking towards our ever-depleting emergency stockpile of resources. I have signed an executive order for large-scale prospecting and extraction of resources inside the United States and inside the former territory of Mexico and Canada. However, it will take time for this to be put into effect and to be used effectively. So I plead with you--reduce, reuse and recycle everything. In light of all of this uncertainty, let me remind you, my fellow Americans, who I am. I, John Dresden, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States. So help me God. I swore to this oath, and I will not break it under any means. All that I ask for in return, is cooperation with my fellow Americans. Right now, in this world, we only have ourselves to trust. But come hell or high water, we will survive this. May God bless you, and may God bless these United States of America.” Finishing his speech, all the members of Congress gave a round of applause, with many or all standing.

“For a former lieutenant general, he isn’t too bad at this whole presidential thing.” A woman's voice from his right spoke. Swinging his chair to face the double doors, Stevens cracked a smile.

“He still needs to know when to bite his tongue, Captain Cortez. Making promises like that is what kills most.” Flicking back to the tv, he turned it off. “So, I assume this isn’t a social visit?” With a curious look, he noticed the files the Captain was holding.

“Nope. In fact, I bring some information forwarded by Echelon Eight.” Captain Cortez walked over to the director's desk, placing said files onto it. “Turns out, there is quite a bit of dissent inside The Plusieurs Kingdom’s royal family and a few nobles of interest. Agent Renard has reported with three possible flips.” Cortez watched as the director picked up the first file. Only to stop at the first page with a shocked expression.

“Princess Cristina? Isn’t she next in line for the throne?” Stevens shifted his gaze back and forth from the file and Cortez. “While I don’t doubt the skill of Agent Renard, even this seems a bit…optimistic.” Setting that file down, Stevens reached for the next file. But only raised an eyebrow at the picture and gender of the next possible flip.

“Sex…hellhound hybrid? What does that even mean?” With his eyes wandering to the picture of an anthropomorphic wolf-like woman, the gray or possibly white fur and scarlet red eyes even made him uncomfortable to look at it.

“In his more detailed report about this woman. Agent Renard stated that she is from the most northern part of this continent. Possibly connected to a region up there that is reportedly inhabited by demonic creatures, but this is unproven at this time. He also thinks she would be a great asset and even a possible agent given the right training from us. With heightened hearing, sight and smell, she has the real possibility of outperforming most or all normal humans.” Cortez stated while watching the director flip through the rest of the pages in the file.

“Hmm, I don’t know. We should wait for R&D (Research and Development) to confirm this theory.” Setting that file aside, he picked up the third and final file. “Ah, this woman. Luna Revna. Her name has already appeared in a report from a lieutenant colonel around that region I believe. A very skilled one-handed sword fighter and personal aid to The Princess.” Setting that file aside, he took a deep breath. “Like I said before Captain Cortez. I have no doubts about the skill of Agent Renard. But to flip three people--not to mention one of them being connected to royalty. This seems a bit extreme to go after. Is there really not anyone else of less importance that we can flip or at least extract information from and not have questions asked?”

“At this moment in time, unfortunately not. But after the attack on Ramstein, The President wants results. We’ve got to work with what we have now.” Cortez watched as Stevens leaned back in his seat, still visibly recovering from the wolf-woman.

“Just…make sure Agent Renard doesn't get himself killed.” Stevens rubbed his forehead, worried. The very thought of losing an agent made him queasy. The last thing he needed was for skilled and proven agents to be forcibly retired.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Moving onto another matter. Is there a reason why I nearly got hearing damage from having to listen to Armistead ranting about foreign races being put before American lives and something about a program for foreign orphaned children to be put into the foster system?” Cortez asked.

“Yeah, that whole thing. As you know, The Red Cross was federalized a few days ago, allowing federal funds to be used. This was done to help people both around the country and abroad to the bases that have taken in refugees. The adoption program was a public pushed initiative as some wanted to help these kids. As expected, Armistead and many politically-right-thinking supporters were rather…” He hesitated for a moment. “...Perturbed when the news was broken. Saying a bunch of crap about “The South raising hell if this gets approved”. Damn Old Guard can’t keep his opinion out of his position.” Stevens says, clearly exhausted.

“He may be Old Guard, but he is far more qualified than anyone else for DHS (Department of Homeland Security).” Cortez stated, though even she didn’t like Armistead much, being from an immigrant family from Panama does that. “Even so, with everything going on, if he keeps up this attitude he’s gonna get the boot from The President.” Hearing this, Stevens couldn't help but laugh.

“Tell that to congress and the state governors. We are going to be more polarized on international issues more than ever because of this damn transfer…” With a heavy sigh. Stevens spun his chair to look out at New York's skyline.

July 14th, 2040: Chlothar City Capital, The Plusieurs Kingdom

Taking a simple dusting brush to a vase, Agent Renard; codename “Basile”, made sure to get every single spot of dust or imperfection. Staying undercover was proving to be more difficult than expected, and even more so when he had to take pictures with a microcamera hidden in a fountain pen he carried without acting suspiciously. Once he was finished with that vase, he moved onto the next stone pedestal that held another expensive vase with flowers on display, with the hallway having many of these and paintings of past royalties, major battles and other historic moments dotting the walls. As he dusted the flower vase, his trained ears picked up the distinct sound of incoming footsteps from his left. Slightly turning his head, his gaze met Thyra who had a smile on her face.

“You know you do not need to be this meticulous with dusting, Basile.”

“And let a priceless piece such as this be left to gather dust? Nonsense!” Agent Renard exaggerated with Thyra laughing in response to his enthusiastic answer.

“If you say so. However, I will have to ask you to put your dusting on hold for a moment and follow me please. Your service is needed elsewhere.” Motioning behind her, Agent Renard complied and followed. It didn’t take long for Thyra to attempt some small talk.

“So, you said you came from a nation from the south?” Thyra questioned, with Renard having to repeat his fabricated story for the hundredth time by now.

“Sort off. My family has a small land title along the coastline, along the inland sea. While we aren't as rich as most of the other families around us. We pride ourselves on our history of commitment to our work.” Renard explained. The story itself was mostly told to explain his foreign accent and word choice, though it still got him a few stares.

After only a few minutes of walking in the hallways of the royal palace. They stopped in front of a wooden door, with Thyra opening it and inviting Renard inside. Once entering the room, Renard became extremely confused when Princess Christina and Luna were also there. But before he could utter a single word, the door behind him glowed a bright white light and dematerialized.

“What the--!” Spinning around to watch the door simply dissolved into a thousand white orbs, now seeing that this was a setup, Renard readied himself for a confrontation.

“Please Basile. There is no need to be so scared.” Christina motioned to a free chair across the small room where Thyra was standing next to.

“If that’s even your real name…” Luna added with a disapproving stare, her right hand just above her sheathed sword.

“My apologies, your majesty, but there must be some sort of misunderstanding here. If there is anything I’ve done to upset you then please tell me and I will do my utmost to never allow it to happen.” Renard held his ground.

“That's just it, Basile. You are simply too good for a simple servant. Not to mention the words you use are far above what someone like you would know.” Christina then motioned to Thyra. “Even Thrya has had a hard time understanding some of the words you use, even though she comes from a more educated household.” With all that said, a few tense seconds went by in absolute silence before Renard broke out in laughter.

“Well, I guess the cat's out of the bag now.” Taking a moment to steady himself, Renard then bowed to the princess. “Agent Renard from The Central Intelligence Agency. At your service.” He let out the most luxurious bow a CIA agent can hope for.

“Let me guess. You are an American, are you not?” Luna readied herself in a fighting stance with her right hand now on the hilt of her sword.

“Just hear me out first, please.” Raising his hands, Renard waited for Luna to calm down but she kept her hand on her sword. “Look, I know our two nations have not gotten off on the best start, and now with me here it’s even worse. But I come bringing a message from President Dresden, Princess Christina.” Turning his attention to Christina he continued. “He knows that you three, along with a few other nobles of interest don’t support the current Queen. In an act of compromise and as an olive branch specifically to you Princess; he is willing to install you as Queen over the current land control by The Plusieurs Kingdom, with the oversight of The United States to provide security against any rebellions and neighboring kingdoms and empires, and to slowly transition The Plusieurs Kingdom into a constitutional monarchy.” Renard watched as the confused reactions of the three did little to comfort him.

“You dare speak of overthrowing the monarchy? Seems like I need to teach you some respect, outsider.” Unsheathing her sword, Luna moved towards Renard who didn’t hesitate either to defend himself. Reaching into the front pocket of his robe, he pulled out his fountain pen. Aiming the tip at Luna’s face, be pressed a hidden button on the end, causing the pen to spay a black inky substance all over her face, causing her to stumble backwards.

“Ugh! Why you…you...wha--” Within seconds, Luna’s grip on her sword loosened to the point of it clattering to the floor. Before Luna collapsed under her own weight, Renard darted forward to catch her.

“You dare attack my aid!” Now it was Christina's turn, who had also reached for her sword along with Thyra who extended her sharp claws.

“I only put her to sleep, don’t worry. Although she won’t remember anything from the past twelve hours or so. Besides…” Once placing Luna onto the stone floor and standing up, Renard faced Christina with a cold stare. “If I was here to kill you, I would have done it days ago.” With a chill going down her spine, Christina resentfully sheathed her sword and Thyra slightly backed away from Renard. “The United States has no interest in conquering your kingdom, which is why we have reached out to you in the first place, and I say this as a warning. That airstrike a few days ago, was a mere warning of what's to come. If you truly value the lives of your people, we are willing to work with you in overthrowing the current Queen.” As soon as his statement of aggressive negotiations had concluded, Renard turned with the intent to leave. Only to nearly walk face-first into where the door once was, now replaced with a stone wall. Seeing that his “cool” exit was foiled, he turned to The Princess with a slightly embarrassed look. “Well...this turned awkward real quick.”