September 6th, 2017

9.20 am, The White House Situation Room

“Breaking News! Multiple explosions have been reported in and around the Naval Air Station Key West right here in Florida. The military base is currently on lockdown. We now take you live to the scene with Kathy Sullivan. Kathy?” The male reporter says.

The scene changes, a female reporter comes into view. She is standing in front of a barricade jointly run by police and military personnel. Past that is smoky rubble surrounded by emergency vehicles with flashing sirens and damaged cars. All set against a scenic Florida morning.

“Thank you, Ron. I am standing in front of a barricade on the usually busy Overseas Highway which bypasses the Naval Air Station Key West. As you can see behind me, several plumes of smoke are coming from the military base. We can see a lot of troop movements, which we suspect is to contain and control the ongoing fires. Unfortunately, there has been a communication blackout so we have no official reports from the inside.” Kathy says.

“Here is what we know so far as confirmed by numerous witnesses. At around 9.10 am, local time, a lockdown alarm was triggered. Shortly after, multiple explosions rocked the facility and neighboring roads, effectively disrupting access to the military base. Some vehicles were hit with what many are calling roadside IEDs. Improvised Explosive Devices. Wounded are being treated but no official word on the number of wounded or on their conditions.” Kathy says.

“There’s no official count on how many people are on the affected roads yet, but my best guess is around a dozen or so vehicles. There’s been no confirmation of active shooters or exchange of gunfire but the soldiers look tense. There has, however, been a report of at least one casualty with many more rumored. Details are sketchy and many questions remain. I will stay on the scene to get answers. Back to you-” Kathy says but she is cut off by the TV being shut off.

“What in God’s name is going on there?” President Gertrude Pond asks, turning off the TV.

President Gertrude Pond is standing in front of the largest display in the White House Situation Room. The press conference regarding her Granddaughters’ abduction had only ended 20 minutes ago. She was looking forward to a positive day with Team Six in her prayers. Unfortunately, about 6 minutes ago, President Pond was ushered into the White House Situation Room, by her National Security Advisor, for an unfolding national security event.

“And how does the news know more about it than we do?” President Pond asks.

“Unfortunately, Ma’am.” The National Security Advisor, Aaron Clark, says, “There has been a communication blackout on the military base since around 9.14 am.”

“Why are we blacking-out communication to ourselves?” President Pond asks.

“It’s not us, Ma’am.” Aaron Clark answers.

Aaron Clark, soon to be 50, is the only other person in the room. A typical Washington DC insider who has been working on the hill for over 20 years since he graduated from Georgetown. An eligible white bachelor in the most intriguing presidential administration. He had been the one to alert and brief the President on the rapidly escalating situation in Florida.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Meaning what?” President Pond asks.

“That whoever orchestrated the bombings is probably behind the communication blackout, Ma’am.” Aaron Clark says, “But, I don’t understand why they wouldn’t do that before bombing.”

“That’s your big concern during this freaky mess?” President Pond asks.

“I believe he’s saying that standard military strategy would be to deny communication capability before attacking, Ma’am.” FBI Director Don Bridges says, “Maybe their plans went awry.”

“Possible.” Aaron Clark says, “Captain Keyes, the base’s CO, last reported an intruder alert in the recently recommissioned northern docks before he ordered the lockdown.”

“Enough speculation.” President Pond says then asks, “How soon until we can regain contact?”

“Seeing how the TV crew can still broadcast closeby, I suspect the jamming is creating a dead zone around the base itself.” Aaron Clark says, “So we might be able to circumvent the jam by pulling in other assets to monitor and report back.”

“What do we have in the area?” President Pond asks.

“US Coast Guard has some ships an island or two away, Ma’am.” Aaron Clark says.

“I need eyes and ears.” President Pond says, “Use everything, including civilian sources. Go.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Aaron Clark says then heads out of the room.

“Any word from Director Jones?” President Pond asks after Aaron leaves.

“Nothing yet, Ma’am.” Director Bridges says, checking his phone.

“I said it!” President Pond says, “Bodies remain wherever Team Six goes.”

Director Bridges could only sit in silence. After all, current events give that rant some merit.

“This should have been a good day.” President Pond says with a sigh, “Yet now the country faces a crisis, or worse, a terror attack.”

“This doesn’t look to be terror-related, Ma’am.” Director Bridges says, trying to allay her fears.

“I’m surprised the media hasn’t jumped to calling it that yet.” President Pond remarks then asks, “Don’t you have an agency to run?”

“Nothing that can’t wait until this situation stabilizes, Ma’am.” Director Bridges reassures her.

“In that case, keep trying Jones.” President Pond says, finally taking a seat.

9.28 am, Naval Air Station Key West

A woman in MP uniform sulks in a quiet corner of the base.

“Those muscleheads still failed after everything I pulled off.” Callie grumbles silently.

‘I even had to help move that girl when the MPs showed up.’ Callie thinks.

Callie is operating her inconspicuous smartwatch. Seems she is trying to call someone.

“Brooms my ass.” Callie says through gritted teeth just before she gets connected.

“Whom do you sing for, my siren?” A voice says over Callie’s earbuds.

“I sing for thee, my lady.” Callie says.

“Your report?” The voice of Darya asks.

“Oh my lady, I have bad news.” Callie says with nervousness.

“They failed?” Darya asks.

“On both missions, my lady.” Callie answers.

“Survivors?” Darya asks after a momentary pause.

“No one has reported back, my lady.” Callie says.

“Hmm… I want a full report later.” Darya says, “Scrap the operation. For now, dispose of the Mole vehicles. Maintain your cover and report any further updates.”

“Yes, my lady.” Callie says just as Darya ends the call.

“I am so dead after this because of those blundering brutes.” Callie says with a sigh.

‘Well, at least I’m not the only Siren in trouble.’ Callie thinks to herself.

Callie takes out a small black controller from her pocket. It has a red button. She pushes it, turning it green. Next, she taps an icon on her smartwatch. The screen reads “Jammer off.”

“Talk about bad luck.” Calle says as she then readjusts her uniform and rejoins the chaotic base.

Now she looks like a concerned MP who is trying their hardest to help.