CHAPTER 17

 

The last time Jasmine had been at the Terrorist Intelligence agency, the place had seemed normal. It had actually been quite underwhelming. Thousands of different kinds of offices stood, some large enough for dozens and some only for one man. The employees were too regular, wearing black suits over white shirts— some, dark sunglasses, enough to blend into society as a whole. They’d even had a receptionist taking calls at the entrance.

 

So when she took the elevator down instead of up along with her friends and Deputy Derich, she hadn’t expected the doors to reveal a white, sleek, futuristic corridor. It almost reminded her of the research center, in a way. Jasmine moved somewhat slowly, in awe of what she was seeing. They were walking through a tube illuminated by ground fluorescent lights. Few people walked here compared to the ground and top floors. Eventually, they reached the end of the hallway, and a door opened automatically, making a woosh that hurt her ears.

 

The smell of smoke hit her like a truck, and she had to physically strain herself to not cough. The room was no longer pure white. The walls were made to look like wood, but they weren’t wood. Jasmine could tell if she stared long enough. A long metallic table stood in the room’s center, but it wasn’t a much a table as it was a rectangle erected from the ground. On the table were glasses of water and a few ashtrays. Black wheeled leathered chairs sat around it. Seven men and two women stared at them. Their faces were worn down by age, stress, and overwork. Beside them stood four other officers, which Jasmine guessed would probably be coming with them. Director Oppenheimer sat at the very end of the table, and behind him were several black panels. He stood to greet them. 

 

“Welcome to the situation room, metahumans. First, I have to demand that you not be late in the future. We’re on a tight timetable.” The Director said, looking at Derich. 

 

“My apologies, Director. Traffic was a problem— there have been protests.” She answered.

 

“Then leave earlier. Now, let’s begin, take your seats, please.” He declared as the Deputy left. It appeared she still wasn’t allowed to hear anything about the operation.

 

The group— including the four other agents— sat. Jasmine sunk in her chair and took a deep breath. This was, without a better word, surreal. It felt like a movie or a book to her, and it still hadn’t sunk in that she was really doing this. She had barely been able to sleep last night.

 

“First, let me introduce all of you to the National Intelligence Council. NIC for short. You don’t need to know their names, but they’ll be aiding me in debriefing you on your mission today.” Oppenheimer continued. The council nodded or gave a few grunts of acknowledgment. “Then, let me acquaint your two groups. In normal circumstances, you would have practiced together and gone on a few missions less important than this one, but this is not a normal situation.”

 

Jasmine looked at the agents facing her. Both groups were sitting opposites of each other. The person in front of her was a huge man, both in height and in muscle mass. 

 

The Director went on. “First, let’s state the obvious. We have our metahumans. I must demand that you bury all animosity during this mission, lest your feelings are more important than the fate of our nation?” He was answered by shaking heads. “Good. From the left, we have Veronica Fischer, Jasmine Mertz, Agnes Zimmerman, and Franz Thomas. Their respective powers are Invincibility, invisibility, shapeshifter, and healer in the same order.”

 

Jasmine repressed a flinch. She had been conditioned her entire life to hide her power, and to see it exposed so easily to strangers was alarming. Her palms felt moist as she wiped them on her pants— the same suit that every agent or employee wore.

 

“Now, we have our veterans. Our most trusted operatives. Using the same order, that’s Angela Braun, Nicholas Riese, Sepp Lange, and Noah Oelberg.” He added with pride filling his voice. “Council, take it away.”

 

One of the NIC members— a white-haired woman with a giant mole on her chin, rose. “Colleagues and agents, today our organization embarks on its most important operation since its founding.” She said, her voice frail and trembling. Her remaining teeth were completely blackened by years of smoking. “You’ve already been informed of our goal to offer a guiding hand to our remaining senators. Now, let us explain the how.” She said determinedly. 

 

The black panels turned on, revealing alternating images of different senators. Jasmine recognized one of the senators she’d seen on television back at the research center. What was his name?

 

“The cowards in the Senate—” She spat out the word. “have almost all resigned, and now a coalition led by Senator Leeuwin has vowed never to activate article nineteen of our constitution. They refuse to see reason, and so we will make them see reason.”

 

That was it. The old woman sat down, confusing the group for a split second before another member of the council rose. This time, a man stood with a cane, and he took a swig of water before he spoke.

 

“At nine P.M., senators will convene in the chamber to debate the situation in the north. They debate, debate, debate, but never act. Such are the flaws of legislatures— gridlock, inaction, incompetence plagues us like rot. The time for action is now, agents. You will accompany Marshal Gessner to the National Assembly and accost the senators. You will be armed, of course, and the chamber’s exit will be barred.” He said. He spoke with a distinct northern accent that made some words difficult to understand.

 

“While you are in the building, negotiations will take place. Do not hesitate to intimidate and threaten physical violence if a favorable outcome appears impossible to reach. We will do our utmost to keep this information out of the public and the media, at least until the deed is done.” 

 

He paused.

 

“I see the look on your faces, agents. Doubt sticks to your mind as a moth sticks to lights. Do not second doubt yourself. If senators must die to see reason, then so be it. It will be for the good of our nation. It will help us take down the MSA. It will help us be greater.” The man said before sitting.

 

Another one stood after putting out his cigarette. From what Jasmine could see, he looked like he was in his fifties— the youngest of the council.

 

“Now, let us get into the specifics, starting with our metahumans.” He started. The voice was clear and powerful. “Franz Thomas and Veronica Fischer, you are our two most important pieces. Let me start with you, mister Thomas. We’ve studied you and your power these past few months, even before you were brought to Dilliers. To tell you the truth, your ability to heal wounds is exceptional. It is one in a million, perhaps even more. Your role in this operation is to protect the Marshal at all costs. If he is harmed, you fix him up.”

 

Franz nodded. His face was white.

 

He continued. “Miss Fischer, pardon me for this comparison, but if this was a chessboard, you would be the queen. Some levels of heightened resistance have been observed in the past, of course, but never to this degree. You can withstand bullets and bombs, so you will be Marshal Gessner’s bodyguard. Stand in front of him at all times— just in case. You are the first line of defense.” 

 

“Yes, sir.” Veronica said, nodding, her expression unreadable. 

 

The man skipped over Jasmine and Agnes, which somewhat hurt her pride. “For the rest of you, be ready for anything. We need two blocking the exit, and the rest of you will be around Gessner. Now, on the subject of the army, this operation will be independent of them. They need not know about it until it is over. When the senators all sign and ratify emergency powers, you will all be free to escort the Marshal outside, back to the Presidential Palace. We will have a hundred a fifty agents ready to guard the building in case of any reprisals with reinforcements on the ready.”

 

Oppenheimer stood as the man sat down. “Thank you for the explanation, councilmembers. Now, let us speak of your equipment…”

 

---

 

The drive toward the Presidential Palace to pick up Hermann Gessner was silent, and the air was chock full of tension. They had split into two cars. They were the same SUVs that had driven them to Adelind. The ramifications were just sinking in for Jasmine. The last semblance of democracy was about to die by their hands, and the worst part was that she didn’t even feel too bad about it. They had never done anything to help her until Gessner got into power, and many of them were names she’d heard on the news before she’d been taken to the camps— there had been no news there.

 

Even then, having Senators at gunpoint the same way the MSA had done it was leaving a sour taste in her mouth. Jasmine looked around the car to see if she could find hints of emotion on the faces of her companions. In front, driving, was Angela, the only woman in the squad she had seen in the meeting. Jasmine hadn’t gotten a good look at her face yet, but she was black with her dark hair tied in a ponytail. She oozed confidence from the way she had walked to the car. In the passenger seat sat Sepp, whistling. He slouched heavily, even in his chair, and he was a redhead with an undercut. Jasmine was sitting in the back with Agnes.

 

“Could you stop whistling, please? It’s… stressing me out.” Agnes asked. She sounded less aggressive than she usually did— less bombastic.

 

“No prob’. First time on a job, I assume?” Sepp said, turning his head slightly toward her.

 

“Yeah.” She said.

 

“Allfather, when they said we were getting metahumans, I expected big strong men that would scare the living shit outta me, sort of like Nick. Not literal children. Seems like a pretty bad idea to me.” Sepp said as he turned back. Jasmine felt a slight stir. 

 

“Not the time or place, Sepp. We need to be confident in front of the Marshal, and we need everyone in top form.” Angela said. 

 

“I mean, don’t tell me you actually agree with the actions of the council or the Director. This is fucked, and it’s getting dangerously close to a coup.” Sepp said, lowering his voice. 

 

“Not our problem. This is a job— we go in, we leave, we get our paycheck at the end of the month. Plus, this is for the greater good, and you know it.” She replied as she took a right. The palace was in view now.

 

“I can get paid and disagree with what we’re doing. Not like I can quit at this point anyway. In too deep.” He said with a sigh.

 

“What do you mean you can’t quit?” Jasmine asked, with a slight hint of worry in her voice.

 

“Jasmine, right? Pleased to meet ya, I guess. Haven’t seen a metahuman in a while.” Sepp said with a slight smile. “I could quit. Theoretically. But I think if I didn’t keep up my routine, the guilt would eat me up, and I’d end up leaking some juicy state secrets.”

“The council said you were their most trusted agent… it doesn’t sound like they know what they’re talking about.” Agnes added.

 

They were pulling up to the gates now.

 

Sepp chuckled. “Oh, I’m very trustworthy. They know as long as I’m working here, I’ll never say anything. Plus, I have family to worry about.”

 

“We’re here.” Angela declared. She parked next to the stairs leading up into the palace, and the other car parked right behind her.

 

After a short two-minute wait, Marshal Gessner strode out of the doors. He was being escorted by two agents, but they weren’t coming with them. One of the agents opened the door to the car in the back, and Gessner got in. Soon afterward, the driver honked on the horn, and they started driving again, this time to the National Assembly. Jasmine felt her heartbeat quicken and the blood pulse through her ears. 

 

“Since you’re going into this half-blind, feel free to ask any questions.” Angela said as they made their way outside of the palace property. “Now would be the time.”

 

“I have a question.” Agnes said. “Are any of you racist?”

 

Both Angela and Sepp paused for a second.

 

“No, we’re fine.” She answered.

 

“Eh, Nick might have a bit of a problem at first.” Sepp said. Angela glared at him. ‘What? I don’t want to lie to them! Put your personal feelings aside and realize he’s got a little bit of prejudice in him.”

 

“No comment. I meant questions regarding the mission, though.” 

 

“Come on, it won’t be that hard. They’re just a bunch of useless politicians, we’ll only have to scare them straight, and they’ll sign. I bet it won’t even take twenty minutes.” Sepp cheered.

 

“It’s best to be prepared as much as we can. There’s a chance it won’t go as planned.”

 

Jasmine could agree with that.

 

“You’re no fun when you’re in work mode. We should take these kids out one day to showcase the difference between you when you’re on and off the clock, it’s jarring.” Sepp said.

 

“What do we do if they don’t sign?” Jasmine asked. “If they stall us?”

 

“That’s when we start shooting. Hopefully, it won’t come to that, but we might need to make an example.” Angela said, her voice shaking slightly at the idea.

 

“And if they rush us all at the same time? There’s only eight of us and twenty-something of them, I forgot the exact number.”

 

“Well, that’s what guns are for. A few dead, and they’ll reconsider. And if they’re somehow all suicidal, we have you. Well, not you, but that invincible kid. Vanessa.”

“Veronica.” Jasmine retorted, correcting him.

 

“I’m bad with names.” 

 

The rest of the ride was somewhat silent, apart from the occasional comments from Sepp and Angela making sure they were ready. After a twenty-minute drive— primarily because of traffic— they arrived at the National Assembly.

 

Jasmine breathed hard as she opened the door and got out of the car. Her legs felt wobbly, weak. She was scared, which she found silly because if she was to take down the MSA, or at least aid in the operation, then why was she scared of this. The steps were somewhat empty because it was morning. Everyone had made it to their work or school and the only people out were either late or out of a job. She felt a few eyes on their group as they surrounded Gessner to make it as hard as possible to see him. After they silently made it up the steps, the first hurdle presented itself.

 

Four men in full military gear guarding the building’s entrance. The military had increased its presence in the capital since the attack. One raised his hand to signal them to stop, but he stopped when he saw Gessner’s face and let them in. The military was not informed about the operation, but they knew the Marshal. He’d fought in the Great Patriotic War and risen to the rank of Field Marshal, which had gotten him his title, then he had called all men loyal to him into civil war. Gessner was respected and loved by the military.

 

They were in.