“Your hair looks ridiculous.” Oliver commented as Blake entered his mother’s office.

In the two hours since he secured his new hostages, he had cleaned the blood, sweat, and soot from his body, as well as eaten.

Blake ran a hand through his half charred, chin length locks as he relaxed into the padded couch and shot his brother an irritated look. It had been over six months since he last had it cut, and it had grown far longer than he intended. He had been so busy since he returned, he had not had time to devote to something as simple as a hair cut.

Well, I need to cut it now.

“I’ve got some scissors,” Peter offered. “I can’t promise you a glamorous cut, but it’ll be straight.” After a moment, he mumbled, “Mostly.”

Blake shook his head. “Won’t work. The scissors will break before my hair does.”

“They’re made out of steel,” his father pointed out.

“Doesn’t matter,” Blake explained. “Nano makes my hair more resistant to damage, as well as my nails and teeth. I’ll have to cut it myself with this.” He held up a small dagger he received from a level three scenario.

“Barbers in the future are gonna have to be high level,” Oliver quipped.

“You should have done that before the interview like I asked,” Donna reprimanded her son, and then turned to Jessica, who was present through holo-chat. “Our internet is still out, are the media aware of what’s going on?”

Jessica frowned as she typed on her laptop. “People heard the explosions for miles. They’re demanding to know what’s going on but, so far, the government has remained silent.”

“Of course they are,” Oliver snorted. “They just got their butts kicked.”

“That’s what worries me,” Peter admitted. “Blake made them look weak, and that’s the last thing they want. President Warner promised to end this quickly, and it backfired on him.”

“Well, I told them I’ll only negotiate with the President,” Blake informed them. “Hopefully they stop their attacks until then.”

“Do you think they’ll actually let you talk with him?” Brent asked.

Blake shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out, but as long as they stop bombing us for the next week and a half, that’s all that matters.”

“The Governor just released a statement alongside a video,” Jessica said as she rotated her laptop. She hit play and drone footage of Blake’s battle began to play.

I can’t believe they actually released this.

Surprisingly, the video was of high quality, despite being shot from high altitude. Blake watched as he came into view and teleported behind the Taco Hut. A moment later, the entire building exploded, and he was thrown backwards.

Donna gasped and gave him a worried look.

“Go ahead and fast-forward a couple of minutes,” Blake suggested as he looked away from his mother. “I stay in that ditch for a while.”

Jessica nodded and complied.

His parents continued to wince as they watched him fight, while Oliver praised him and supplied a running commentary. However, when the video showed his escort of the infantry back to the main force, he noticed something missing.

“Jessica, can you rewind that a few seconds?” he asked.

The footage replayed, and Blake shook his head in disgust.

“They deleted part of it,” he announced.

Jessica paused the video.

“It looked like you were walking forward with the soldiers, then they just suddenly exploded.” Jordan stated carefully. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Blake growled as he made a fist. “They fired on their own men, and it looks like they want to hide the evidence. Now, it makes me look like an animal.”

“It’ll all come out eventually,” Donna assured him.

The footage resumed, and they continued to watch the video in silence until the end. Even Oliver refrained from speaking, as he realized the footage showed him in a bad light. After the video ended, Jessica stated, “The Governor said this is an act of war, and he blames you for the massacre of his soldiers. He said he is coordinating with the President for a large assault on The Dome, and will not rest until justice is served.”

“No mention of them bombing us first?” Blake asked.

Jessica shook her head to the negative.

Of course there isn’t.

Peter cleared his throat. “This looks bad. We need to get our side of the story out there.”

“How?” Blake asked in frustration. “You hear those helicopters? They have missiles. They’ve been flying around ever since I got back, and the second I step outside, you know they’ll open fire.”

“Wait, they’re military?” Peter furrowed his brow. “I thought they were there to put out the fires.”

Blake shook his head. “I think the fires burned themselves out. I didn’t see any on the way back in.”

“Thank God for small miracles,” Donna muttered.

“Who cares if they’re military, aren’t you bulletproof?” Oliver asked flippantly. “Just shoot them down with your bow.”

“Yeah,” Blake replied dryly. “Just stand still while missiles blow up around me, and shoot a moving target over a thousand feet in the air.”

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

His brother scowled. “Take a hostage, idiot.”

“I tried that,” Blake reminded his brother. “Didn’t work out so well for the hostages.”

Donna studiously ignored their argument and addressed the Payson chancellor. “Jessica, can you put a statement on our website?”

The Vietnamese woman shook her head. “Sorry, they took it down. But I can message reporters covering the story. Hopefully, one of them will read it and mention it on the news.”

“Don’t forget Jennifer Taylor,” Oliver blurted.

Blake rolled his eyes.

Why is he so obsessed with her?

----------------------------------------

Blake stared discreetly at the Mark of Cain as he lounged on the couch, and waited for the daily meeting to begin. The tattoo had grown darker and larger since his battle the day prior. It now crawled up his entire forearm and wrapped around it. He was not sure how many deaths he was directly responsible for, but it was enough for the Architect to label him a mass murderer.

I didn’t want to kill anyone.

He had long grown accustomedto death, but that did not mean he felt nothing for their loss. Every human he was forced to kill was another win for the Architect in its sick extermination game. It was one less resource they could use to survive. Worse, they were soldiers. They had experience in warfare as well as training which would serve them well in the future.

What a waste.

Suddenly, a notification pinged in his interface and distracted him from his morose thoughts. He quickly hid his arm before anyone noticed and accepted the holo-chat call. Jessica appeared before him with a smile.

“Good news, I was able to contact three influencers, who have released videos explaining your side of the story.”

“Was Jennifer one of them?” Oliver leaned forward.

Jessica nodded.

Blake sighed. “I noticed you said, ‘influencers’. Did any real journalists report it?”

“Hey! Jennifer’s a real journalist!” Oliver objected from across the room.

“Sorry,” Jessica shook her head. “I received no responses from any mainstream sources. It was difficult enough to contact individual influencers. When they did finally respond, I had to show proof that we knew you personally.”

“How did you do that?” Donna asked.

Jessica smiled. “I recorded a short video of the combat teams showing off their powers.”

Blake snorted. “I bet Montgomery loved that.”

“He did,” Jessica confirmed. “As did the others with flashy spells.”

“Did you contact their families?” Donna asked. “If that video gets out, the authorities can identify them and track down their family members.”

“Already done,” Jessica replied. “We will have a whole host of new guests shortly.”

“What’s the reaction online so far?” Peter changed the subject.

“Well, the videos were only released a few hours ago, but they are surging in popularity. Especially Miss Taylor’s. It has over a hundred million views and climbing. She found an expert who went over the released footage and showed how the video was missing frames.”

“Thank God,” Blake sighed. “I guess your girlfriend was useful after all.”

Oliver showed him his middle finger.

Jessica grimaced. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up. There are a lot of people who are accusing her and others of collaborating with you. They’re calling for the DoJ to arrest them for working for the enemy. So far, the President has remained silent on the issue.”

“Yeah, he hasn’t contacted me yet either,” Blake informed her. “Although, as long as they don’t bomb us, I don’t really care if he picks up the phone.”

----------------------------------------

For what seemed the hundredth time over the past two days, the radio squawked for his attention. With a sigh, Blake reached for the microphone and answered the call. “Is the president ready to talk yet?” he asked in a bored tone.

“Yes, Mister Summers,” the voice confirmed. “You will be connected shortly. Please stay on the line.”

Wait, what?

Blake sat up and glanced at his mother behind her desk. She seemed just as surprised as he. Donna and Blake were currently the only two people present in her office. While he waited for the President to come on the line, he quickly sent a message out to his father and Jessica so they could witness the interaction.

A minute later, he heard someone run up the stairs. Oliver burst into the room in excitement. “Is the President seriously going to talk to us?!

“To me, not us. And, if you want to stay, you have to be quiet,” Blake informed his brother.

Oliver raised his hands. “I got it, I got it.”

Blake shook his head and watched his father file into the room. Peter smiled, quietly sat in the chair opposite Blake, and stared intently at his oldest son.

Another two minutes later, the voice on the radio returned, “The President will speak with you now.”

“This is President Warner, whom am I speaking to?” The President asked in his famous southern accent.

That’s him.

It had been ten years since Blake heard the voice, but even he remembered the final President’s distinctive southern accent and cadence. The world had essentially ended only six months into the man’s first term, but for two years leading up to it, they had heard his voice, and seen his thin, pale complexion everywhere. Between campaign ads, the numerous debates, and the viral clips online where he verbally destroyed his opponent, it was a rare person who could not identify him immediately.

“This is Blake Summers,” he responded calmly.

“Right…” the President drawled. “Are your parents there, son? Your handler? I want to talk to whoever’s in charge, not some kid.”

“I am in charge,” Blake insisted. “If you actually paid attention to what’s going on, you’d know I’m from the future.”

“Oh, I’m aware of what’s happening alright,” President Warner growled. “I’m looking at the picture in your file right here. It says you are an eighteen-year-old delinquent who dropped out of school to sell drugs and kill cops. Now, I suppose we need to add mass murder of our brave soldiers to the list.”

“Physically, I’m eighteen, but I have ten years of memories in my head from the future. And, most of those soldier’s deaths are on Colonel Stenberg. He’s the one that gave the order to open fire on his own men.”

“That’s still under investigation,” The president evaded. “But the fact remains, you attacked US soldiers and are a threat to this country.”

“I defended myself,” Blake argued. “If you want to stop the bloodshed, all you have to do is stop attacking us for the next week.”

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” the President suddenly yelled. “You’re obviously backed by China, Russia, or some other foreign power. You have advanced tech we haven’t seen before, and are staging some sort of assault from within that Dome. I can’t just stand by and let that happen.”

Blake’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I am,” he said firmly. “You are a threat to this nation, and I don’t intend to watch the greatest country on Earth fall to a foreign adversary. Now, who are you working for? Where did you get that tech?”

The man’s an idiot. How did he ever get elected?

Blake took a deep, calming breath and said, “Mister President, portals have appeared all over the world. I know for a fact the government has studied at least one of them for months now, and must have some idea of what’s going on. I’m concerned that YOU don’t know about it yet. What are they keeping from YOU. The ‘tech’ you are so worried about is alien, not from some other country.”

President Warner snorted, yet his voice seemed uneasy. “Hogwash. You think I was born yesterday? That line may play well to the masses, but I know bullshit when I hear it. There is no ‘alien invasion’.”

Wait, he might not actually know anything about it.

“Oh. My. God.” Blake said in disbelief. “You’re serious. You don’t have a clue about what’s going on, do you? You’re not important enough to be in the know.”

“Listen here, son,” the President growled. “I am the President of the United States, Commander in Chief of the world’s greatest military. There is nothing I am not aware of.”

“If that’s true, then what was the government doing at the Pinetop fire tower?”

“What the hell are you on about, kid?”

He really doesn’t know.

“Mister President, I suggest you find out why your men were at the Pinetop fire tower and what they were securing. Find whoever was in charge of that group and start asking questions. When you finally know what the hell you’re talking about, call me back. In the meantime, there’s no point in continuing this conversation.”

Blake threw the microphone down in disgust and turned off the radio. When he finally looked up, he saw shocked faces around the room.

“Broooo…” Oliver drawled. “Did you just hang up on the President?”