“What am I doing?” I thought to myself, “Why am I going along with this? It isn’t right.” The clandestine ride over to the Ultradome was a silent one. However, my mind was loud with thoughts. There was nothing else to do except ruminate. I should have been rehearsing my upcoming routine, but instead, I continued to ask myself questions with answers I already knew.
My armored vehicle moved through the quiet streets of D.C. Other vehicles were ahead and behind mine. Minute-Man and Lieutenant Lonestar were in some of the other vehicles. Which ones I did not know. To bystanders, we appeared as a routine National Guardsmen or Ultra Guard convoy. It was the best way of entering the Ultradome undetected. Anything else would raise suspicion, and this mission was of the utmost secrecy.
They called it “Operation: Friday Night Lights”: a fitting name given the venue. The Ultradome could seat more than a hundred thousand spectators. Tens of millions tuned in every time an Ultra League game was aired. It was the perfect place for my heroic debut. And some debut it would be.
A thick jacket covered my uniform. I held it shut with my hands. Given the current setting and the general vibe, wearing such a flashy outfit felt awkward. It was a far cry from Glenda’s patriotic simulation. There were no bright rays of sunshine nor flags waving in the wind. Instead, there was a silent blackness that shrouded everything.
Darkness had descended upon the city except for the sickly glow of artificial lights. I peered out upon the streets through the one-way glass windows. Against the black sky was the illuminated Washington Monument, shining like a beacon in the dark void. Its light seemed so pure. At its base were several American flags flapping gently in the cool night breeze. Their stalwart waving was oddly comforting and it reminded me of Glenda’s vision for Americana.
As I looked upon the monument and flags, the words of Armstrong came to my mind. “You swore an oath to defend this country by any means necessary”. As much as it displeased me, I too had an oath to fulfill. If this ruse could somehow prevent further bloodshed and end the renegade uprisings then so be it. I breathed in deeply and released it. No more doubts. I had a mission to accomplish.
My eyes followed the Washington Monument until it was hidden from sight by alleyways and narrow streets. The pure tranquility of the monuments was quickly replaced with grotesque urban environments. Twisted murals of graffiti were upon every brick wall. Trash littered the ground. Several buildings were boarded up. Others were completely ransacked. A few had been reduced to piles of rubble. It was evident that the renegade riots of nine months prior still left a lasting impression on this part of the city.
Slithering about in the shadows were unknown figures. Even though the police had secured this region of the nation’s capital, some unsavory individuals still lurked about in the darkness. Like cockroaches, they scattered as our vehicles passed them by. Their eyes watched us from behind dumpsters or alley corners. Despite being shielded by one-way glass, I felt as though they could see me.
Then, something else caught my eye as we neared a tunnel. High above, etched into the marble archway was the phrase “In God we trust”. However, someone had defaced the slogan with dripping black paint. A large “X” was placed over the word “God”. “In ‘X’ we trust?” I thought to myself. My stomach churned at the idea of it. I soon lost sight of the phrase as we entered the tunnel. Still, the sickening feeling remained. Was this more than a political revolution? Did X represent a rebellion against not just the government or the Allegiant but God Himself? What kind of vision did this madman have for the world if he and his acolytes should succeed? It didn’t matter. He would not succeed. I had made a promise to my family. I would make him pay.
I was not alone in the armored vehicle. There were a handful of security officers stationed in the different corners. They didn’t pay me any attention. Some gazed out through the windows, keeping a constant vigil. Others fiddled around with their tablets or monitors. One of them did not fit in with the rest. He was tall and gangly. His dark brown hair was disheveled with long bangs draping over his round glasses. Based on the sharp features of his narrow face I assumed that he was in his early twenties or so. He turned away from his keyboard and approached me sheepishly carrying a small briefcase in his hand.
“Pardon me, Miss Cruz,” he said, “But, it’s time to begin preparations. We’re nearing the Ultradome.”
“Very well then…” I said before pausing. I couldn’t remember his name, or if I had even met him before.
“Oh!” He said, “I’m Barnes. Brandon Barnes. Sorry. I should’ve introduced myself sooner.” He fumbled with the latches on the briefcase. It opened to reveal small electronic devices. One of them was an earpiece. “By the way, I’m your operator. But, you probably already knew that.”
“No,” I said, “Maybe. I don’t know.” Truth be told, I couldn’t remember if anyone informed me of who my operator was going to be. Details like that were lost in the whirlwind of rehearsals leading up to this event. “Sorry,” I said, “It’s just…”
“Nervous?” questioned Brandon. I nodded. “That’s okay. I’m nervous too. This is a big night for everyone. But don’t worry. I’ll make sure everything goes according to plan.”
Every Allegiant is assigned an operator whose job is to assist him or her while out in the field. The operator acts as an extra set of eyes and ears; using remote-controlled drones and microphones to provide immediate intel about upcoming hazards. Operators also act as personal cameramen and record footage for Allegiant TV. They are widely known as “sidekicks”.
Brandon retrieved the small earpiece from his briefcase and drew closer to me.
“So…um,” he stammered, “I hope it’s okay, but I’m going to have to, you know-” He motioned towards my ear with his hand.
“Oh, of course,” I said, drawing my hair back a bit. He leaned in and began inserting the device into my ear. His fingers brushed a few strands of my hair out of the way. Immediately, my face became flushed. It was difficult to not look him right in the eyes. His face was so close to mine. Instead, I tried to look off at the upper corner of the vehicle. However, I could faintly feel a small amount of warmth emanating from his skin. It caused my heart to start racing in my chest. That’s when the interior lights overhead started to flicker. Brandon took notice for a second and then returned to his work.
“Okay, that’s done,” he said. He then took a small container from his briefcase. Inside were two contact lenses. “These are camera lenses,” he explained, “When you have them in, I can see everything that you see. Do you wear contacts?” I shook my head. “Do you know how to put in contact lenses?” I shook my head again. “May I?” He leaned in close. He placed one finger above my eye and the other below it, keeping the lids open. With the other hand, he slowly placed the squishy lens onto my cornea. This time, it was impossible for me to not stare into his eyes. They were hazel. Again, the lights started flickering.
“It must’ve been really scary,” said Brandon as he retrieved the second lens, “What happened in Miami, I mean. With the renegades.”
“Oh, yes it was,” I said quietly, trying to remain as still as possible, “But, God was with me and my family,” Brandon placed his fingers against the other eye socket. His touch sent a jolt through my body. Strange. Since becoming an Allegiant I had grown accustomed to having handlers and assistants place hands on me for suit fittings and such. But, this time, it felt different. Much different.
“You were very brave,” he continued. I blushed again.
“I don’t know about that,” I said, “I think anyone would’ve done the same thing if they were in my shoes.”
“You think so?” asked Brandon.
“Yeah. Who wouldn’t fight for their family…for their country?” Brandon chuckled a bit. “What’s so funny?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said, “It’s just…you sound so old-fashioned.”
“Old-fashioned?”
“That’s not a bad thing!” said Brandon frantically, “It’s refreshing.” This puzzled me.
“Refreshing?” I said, “But, weren’t you Commander’s operator? Wasn’t he old-fashioned?” Brandon’s eyes seemed to look right through me as if he were recalling deep memories.
“I suppose so,” he said somberly. What a strange answer. What did Brandon mean by this? Alas, this seemed like a sensitive topic, so I did not inquire any further. There was a long pause.
“I’m Cassandra, by the way,” I said, “I forgot to introduce myself too.”
“Nice to meet you, Cassandra,” said Brandon with a slight smile.
After affixing both lenses, I scanned my surroundings. At first, the lenses stung my eyes but after a few blinks they became comfortable. Displayed on the screen to my right was an exact image of what I was seeing. It looked as though I were staring into an infinite corridor of computer monitors. My sight then settled on Brandon for a fleeting moment, but I quickly darted my eyes away when I realized that he noticed himself on the screen.
“Looks like it’s working,” said Brandon. I could tell from his tone of voice that he was embarrassed.
I turned my attention to the windows. We had emerged from the dark jungle of concrete and chainlink fences and were now given a brilliant sight. In the distance, illuminated by dozens of circling searchlights, was the silver and white edifice of the Ultradome. It was far larger than any Olympic stadium ever constructed…or any other building in D.C. for that matter. A marsh of parked cars encircled it for what seemed like miles. But, we weren’t taking any public route to the dome. Our vehicles would be escorted into the maintenance tunnels where we wouldn’t be seen by civilians. It was funny. I was so busy talking with Brandon that I had nearly forgotten about my upcoming mission. But, now that I was within sight of the Ultradome, all of those anxious worries came rushing back into my brain.
After moving through several checkpoints, we entered the gaping maw of the tunnel and descended deeper into the bowels of the Ultradome. Yellow lights flashed overhead interrupted by pockets of darkness. Each passing light was like the ticking of a clock counting down to the moment I was dreading. We came to a dead end and the convoy stopped. A rumbling could be felt around us from the multitudes of spectators cheering and stamping. This was it.
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The next fifteen or so minutes went by in a flash. As soon as our vehicle stopped we were whisked away by dozens of government personnel. Brandon parted ways from me and went to set up the camera equipment that would be used. I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye. Amidst the sea of black-clad officers was a figure in pink. It was Glenda. She immediately accosted me with questions and comments.
“How does the suit feel? Is it comfortable? Did you remember to activate the belt monitor? Oh goodness! What happened to your hair? Hold still. We need to fix that. How’s your makeup? We may have to adjust it so it looks good under the Ultradome lights. Come over here for just a second.”
A blinding light was blasted against my face as Glenda and five or so helpers powdered my nose and applied touch-ups to my lipstick and eyeshadow.
“Almost done,” said Glenda, “Just one final thing.” She drew forth a pair of tweezers and quickly plucked a single hair from my eyebrow, causing me to wince. “There! Perfect! Now off you go!” She pushed me away and I was immediately intercepted by Lieutenant Lonestar and Minute-Man. The three of us walked side-by-side through the narrow concrete corridors. They each offered some last-minute advice one after the other.
“From here on out we use code names or job titles when on the comms,” said Will.
“Remember where the cameras are stationed. Don’t block their view of the action,” said Johnny.
“Be mindful of the civilians. Their safety is top priority,” said Will.
“But put on a good show for the spectators at home. Make it worth their while,” said Johnny.
“If anything goes haywire, withdraw from the stadium immediately,” said Will.
“But don’t make it look like you’re withdrawing. Do it with style,” said Johnny. We came to a fork in the hallway. Will marched to the left while Fox and I continued to the right. I was nearing my post. Any second now, I would be at the point of no return.
“You got this, kiddo,” said Fox, patting me on the shoulder, “It’s just like performing on stage. Just stick to your script and it’ll be over before you know it. Heck, you might even enjoy it! Break a leg!” He gave me a hearty slap on the back and walked away, leaving me quivering at the exit.
“Oh, and one last thing,” said Fox, causing me to turn around abruptly, “Remember to smile.” With that, he snapped his fingers and disappeared in a flash.
I then made my way through the darkened corridor. At the far end was an exit that opened up to the night sky. Rising before me was a metal staircase that ascended the shallow slope of the Ultradome. It was mainly used by maintenance workers, but during a big game it was completely vacant. I breathed in the cool night air and removed my jacket. After exhaling I began my ascent up the side of the Ultradome. Here we go.
On either side of me was the transparent canopy that covered the Ultradome. From my perspective I could peer straight down at the field three hundred feet below. Every seat was filled, creating a living wave of color and sound. The game was underway. Ultra-powered players were leaping through the air and colliding with one another in a spectacular display of athleticism. The megascreens showed closeups of the action. Every time there was a tackle the crowd erupted in either applause or boos. It was like a thunderstorm churning beneath my feet.
Despite never having much interest in sports, seeing the game in person made me realize why so many loved the Ultra League. No other sport could compare. The players could run faster, jump higher and strike harder. Their talent necessitated the creation of a larger stadium; one that could accommodate their enhanced abilities. It also meant that more viewers would be tuning in to these captivating games. Surely countless spectators were watching the same events that I was at this moment. Soon, all of those eyes would be watching me.
My climb came to an end. At the apex of the Ultradome was a circular opening. I slowly crept up to the lip. Below me were massive speakers and displays suspended by long cables. This is where I would be making my grand entrance. All I had to do now was wait for my cue. In the meantime, I squatted in place and watched the game unfold from above.
An endless sea of faces was billowing across the stands. There were families among them; regular folk trying to enjoy a bit of escapism. Many had small children with them. Their innocent smiles and simple expressions of joy reminded me of my little sisters. The thought of these little ones being scared even for a second stabbed at my heart. Very soon my colleagues and I would be inflicting terror on them. It brought back memories of my family tormented by the Imps.
“Americana,” came a voice from within my ear. It was Brandon. “Americana, do you read me?”
“I read you loud and clear, operator,” I said in return. Hearing his voice put me at ease.
“Be on standby,” he said, “Halftime will be any minute now.”
“Copy that,” I said.
Soon after, the second quarter of the game ended. A loud buzzer rang out, nearly shaking me from my position. The players quickly exited the field and were replaced by cheerleaders. This was it. I began counting down the stages of our operation in my head. As soon as the cheerleader routine began, so would stage one.
“Everybody get down!” came a loud voice, followed by dozens of aggressive shouts and commands. A squad of men dressed in drab robes and metallic masks swarmed upon the field from every direction. They pushed spectators out of their way as they descended the stairs of the bleachers. Several carried semi-automatic rifles and fired a few bursts into the air. Hundreds gasped and screamed at the sound of the shots. Fortunately, they were blanks. Beforelong, the entire stadium was cowering in place as the goons stood and lorded over their captives. The leader of the squad entered the center of the field, holding a megaphone to his masked mouth.
“Listen up, all of you! If you want to live you’ll do as we say!” Many in the crowd were still shrieking and sobbing as he spoke. “SILENCE!” he roared. A few of his cronies stationed around the Ultradome raised their hands and fired jagged bolts of lightning into the sky. The sizzling sound of electricity filled the air and the stadium fell silent. These ultra-powered fiends were the Wizards; a gang of electrokinetic renegades. Armstrong’s agents must’ve tricked them into carrying out a hostage situation, even providing them with fake weaponry. Little did these brutes know that they were the hapless pawns of the DAA.
“That’s better,” said the Wizard leader, “Now shut up and pay attention!” He then pointed his finger at the TV cameras positioned in the press box a few floors up. “That goes for the police and Allegiant tuning in right now. We’ll keep things simple. This is a hostage situation. It’s an easy exchange. We’ll trade you everyone in this stadium for five billion dollars. If we don’t get what we want-” He then snapped his fingers and two of his henchmen grabbed a small girl by her shoulders and tore her away from her crying parents. She was dragged onto the field and thrown at the feet of the Wizard leader.
“Then this little girl will feel what it’s like to have five billion joules of energy pass through her body.” An arc of plasma was kindled between the fingers of the Wizard leader. He held them close to the girl’s cheek, illuminating the tears streaming down her face. All of this was displayed on the megascreen. “And if that doesn’t convince you to cooperate, we’ve got something else that might.” He motioned to a mysterious black box that two of his henchmen carried out onto the field. It was the bomb. “If anyone decides to be a hero, I’ll blow us all to kingdom come!” The leader held up a remote detonator in his left hand. That was the sign to begin stage two of our operation.
“Now then, we expect our money to arrive here within twenty minutes or–” The Wizard leader was interrupted by a loud crash to his right. Breaking through the Ultradome canopy was Lieutenant Lonestar. His silver cape billowed behind him as he flew past the huddled masses in the stadium. Some of the broken shards of glass were caught up in his gravitational bubble and carried with him through the air. As he alighted on the field, these shards were pulled to the ground in a dramatic fashion.
“Lonestar!” growled the Wizard leader. The utterance of his name caused the people in the stadium to cry out for help once more. Their wails caused so much confusion that Lonestar was able to quickly launch a burst of negative gravity at the leader, knocking him back several feet and releasing his grip on the little girl. The fiend also dropped the remote detonator. Seeing this, Will began to draw it in towards him with his powers, but was immediately attacked by several goons from all directions. Arcs of lightning were thrown at him. Will dodged the first few while the last struck his chest. He was paralyzed in place for a moment, his muscles twitching painfully.
The Wizards stalked closer to Lieutenant Lonestar. He was easy prey now, and the spectators knew it. They gasped in terror, fearing that another of their beloved heroes would be slain. Just then, stage three of Operation: Friday Night Lights began.
In a flash of gold and blue, four goons were tossed to the ground. Minute-Man had arrived. The crowd cheered as Fox stood and posed heroically, his blue and gold suit glinting and gleaming in the bright stadium lights. He certainly knew how to put on a good show for the cameras. Will struggled to break free from the electric shock overtaking his body and managed to grunt out a short phrase.
“The…detonator!” Fox broke from his pose and dashed like a blur to where the detonator lay. He snatched it up but was soon hit by a bolt of lightning from the Wizards in the stands. The remote flew from his hand and landed on the grass once more. As this transpired, Will lifted the young hostage off of the ground with his powers and carried her to safety.
Thus began a back-and-forth volley with the remote detonator. One of the Wizards retrieved the remote, but was hit by Will. Then, Will was overwhelmed by a gang of five. Then, Johnny froze them in place. Then, Johnny was ambushed by hidden henchmen. I watched all of this from above. Armstrong’s choreography of the action made great use of the massive space within the Ultradome. Will soared across the stadium as bolts of lightning chased after him. Fox’s blurry blue trail wove in and out of the bleachers as he knocked goons off their feet. This spectacle was all captured on camera for the world to behold. Even the megascreens showed closeups of Will and Fox as they battled the Wizards.
“Americana,” said Brandon’s voice in my ear, “Stage four will begin shortly.” I gulped. My debut was imminent. I rose to my feet and closed my eyes, kindling my righteous indignation with thoughts of renegade injustice. The riots. The wanton destruction. The looks of terror upon the faces of civilians. My poor father, bloodied and bruised on the streets of Miami. Malacoda’s arrogance. X. Even though I had never seen his face, I thought of X; how his words have hurt so many. How many innocents have died because of him?
It took a while, but eventually, I could feel a fire manifesting in my cells. The ambient energy of the Ultradome was siphoned into me and I was empowered. An aura of white light surrounded me. Americana had been awakened.
“Are you ready?” asked Brandon. Even though he could see from my perspective with his camera contact lenses, he could not truly see what I was seeing. All forms of energy were glowing around me: electrical, thermal, kinetic, gravitational. It was a beautiful tapestry of color.
“I’m ready,” I said.
“Copy that,” said Brandon, beginning the countdown, “Stage four will begin in ten…nine…eight…seven…six…”
As he counted, I lifted myself into the air and levitated over the opening in the Ultradome canopy. This was it.
“...five…four…three…two…one!”
Like a stone I descended through the aperture and into the Ultradome. Before I hit the ground, about half-way down, I stopped myself and hovered in place. The crowds gasped. To those watching, it appeared as if a bright white star had suddenly manifested before their very eyes. Everyone shielded themselves or their loved ones, but soon after cautiously looked up once again. Silence had fallen upon the stadium. Even the Wizards had paused their attacks to witness my entrance.
As I approached the ground, my light dissipated, revealing my face for the first time. The spectators began to whisper. Surely some recognized me from the viral video clip in Miami. Was this the mystery girl? I turned my attention to the Wizard leader.
“Who are you supposed to be?” he snarled.
“I am Americana!” I said, my voice ringing across the stadium. There was another collective gasp from the crowds. A Wizard broke free from his stunned silence and began to conjure a ball of electricity in his palm. He hurled it at me with all his might, but I merely ducked out of the way and struck back at him with my own energy orb. He was rocketed back and left unconscious in a pile of smoldering robes. The audience roared with cheers and shouts.
More henchmen appeared, encircling me from all sides. Taking to the sky, I evaded their attacks and flew around the stands, firing white beams of energy at them. All the while, I tried to remain conscientious of where the TV cameras were positioned. Fortunately, Brandon was there to redirect me if needed.
“Move out into the open more,” he’d say, “That’s better. Now, pause for a bit if you can so the cameras can refocus. Good. Now, dive in low towards Camera E. It’s directly below you at two O’clock.” I listened to his instructions as best I could given the chaos all around me. Everywhere I turned, a bolt of lightning was launched in my direction, turning the interior of the Ultradome into a thunderstorm.
“Enemy at seven O’clock!” squawked Brandon, “Evade!” I barely dodged a lightning strike to my back. “Nice job!” He said, “There’s a renegade in the mid-tier seats, section B. He’s grabbing a civilian.”
“I’m on it!” I said, moving like a torpedo towards the stands. A Wizard was wrestling with a young boy who he was trying to use as a human shield. As I flew by, I struck him with a punch charged with thermal energy, blasting him back a hundred feet. The boy was rescued and the crowds cheered once again. Despite saving his life, the only thing I could think of was if that moment was captured on camera.
The air was sizzling with electricity. The Wizards were haphazard in their attacks against me and my colleagues. They had unleashed an entire hurricane of energy into the atmosphere. The static washed over me, making my skin tingle. I almost giggled from the sensation. It would be a great pleasure to redirect this energy back at the villains.
I flew upwards with my arms outstretched, circling through the air. My hair stood on end but soon the electricity was channeled and transformed. Now that I was fully charged, I thought to myself, “What should I do to these fiends?” They were still positioned around the stadium at random intervals. I would need to do something that could stop all of them at once. Then, a brilliant idea sprang to my mind.
Lowering myself in the air a bit, I brought my hands together in a thunderous clap. Waves rippled out from my palms, filling the stadium with a surge of power. The Wizards, who were buzzing with electricity, were immediately pulled towards the metal plating of the Ultradome, sealed in place by strong magnetic currents. This mighty pulse knocked out the power of the stadium, bathing everything in total blackness. But, after a few seconds, the power returned. The blazing lights shone once again. The TV cameras resumed their coverage of the action, but the renegades remained trapped to the ground, walls, or railings.
“Good work!” said Brandon, “Now, be on guard. Once the Wizard leader gets the remote detonator back, the final stage of Operation Friday Night Lights will begin.” I gulped. This stage would be the most difficult.
Despite the renegades being imprisoned by their own magnetic polarity, the leader of the Wizards was able to reach out with his arm and drag the remote detonator towards him with his fingers.
“If I’m going down, I’m taking you with me!” roared the villain. Every soul in that stadium gasped what they believed to be their final breaths and threw themselves to the concrete floor as the renegade squeezed his detonator. I could see the chemical reaction igniting within the bomb. I could feel its chain reaction spreading in an instant. This was the moment I had been rehearsing over and over again in the Arena. In order to prevent any unfortunate casualties, my colleagues and I would have to control this explosion using our abilities.
Minute-Man zipped to the edge of the field and snapped his fingers. He caused time in the area around the explosion to freeze. The bursts of flame were paused in place. The fireball was suspended in the air as Fox quivered. He could only stop time for so long before his strength failed. Just then, Lonestar swooped in from the upper levels of the stadium. Raising his hands, he forced the explosion back into itself before it could expand, allowing Fox a moment of reprieve. The sheer power of that explosion was incredible. The fireball burned like a nuclear blast, churning and broiling. Beads of sweat trickled down Lonestar’s face. His powers were nearly exhausted too. Now it was up to me.
Hovering in the air I held out my opened hand to the explosion. It shrank in size as I slowly absorbed its energy. Its heat coursed through my veins. Every molecule in my body was set ablaze, ready to expel the excess energy. All the while, the crowds watched this blinding scene through parted fingers. Once they saw that the end was no longer nigh, they carefully rose from their hiding places and stood in awe.
At last, the final spark of the explosion was extinguished. All of that kinetic energy was now within me. Next would come the finale of Operation Fright Night Lights. Like a blazing comet, I flew skyward and directed my arms to the heavens. With a deafening shout, I released the energy. A pillar of white light was launched through the opening in the Ultra Dome canopy. It ascended high above the stadium and then exploded into a cloud of dazzling bursts. Waves of wispy light rippled from it like a supernova, illuminating the skies over Washington, D.C. Armstrong was right. Ending the operation with a firework show was a nice touch.
The spectators erupted into applause. A shower of white sparkles rained from the black sky as I slowly alighted onto the green grass of the stadium. A radiant aura continued to surround me. It took a moment before the feeling of righteous indignation subsided. As it waned, so did my aura. After taking a few deep breaths, I opened my eyes and beheld thousands of citizens on their feet: shouting, clapping, whistling, and celebrating.
Lieutenant Lonestar and Minute-Man came and stood beside me on the field. Will scanned the stadium with his usual steely gaze while Fox flashed his toothy grin at the spectators and saluted. He gave me a nudge with his elbow. I remembered to smile and waved back at the crowds. Their cheers washed over me like cresting waves.
They chanted “Americana” over and over again. It was not my true name, but a creation of Armstrong, Glitz, Fox, Washington, and the U.S. government. That fact allowed me to proudly stand before the multitudes rather than drown in embarrassment from all of the attention.
"Congratulations, Americana," said Brandon in my earpiece, "You did well!" Hearing him say that made me blush.
Perhaps this plan would work, I thought to myself. Maybe the idea of Americana would be enough to quell the violence around the world. Maybe that’s all I ever needed to be: a living symbol of American might. Maybe…just maybe…I could return to my family soon. For a moment I felt safe in that thought, surrounded by cheering citizens and shielded by my belief in the Allegiant.
But that moment quickly ended.
A deep and rumbling sound thundered over the stadium. It shook the seats, causing the people to tremble in fright. After a moment, it became clear what it was. It was laughter; a wicked and godless laughter. Then the rolling torrents of laughter turned to words.
“That was a fine spectacle, Ms. Cruz. A fine spectacle indeed.”
Looming over me on the megascreen was the image of a hooded figure. His face was shrouded in darkness. An eerie silence fell over the Ultradome. Every spectator was transfixed to the ghostly image of the mysterious stranger. However, none were more perplexed than Lonestar, Minute-Man, and myself. This wasn’t part of the plan…was it?
“You seem surprised,” said the stranger, “Did you really think that you were the only ones that had moles infiltrating the ranks of the enemy? I knew of your little ruse. But, I wanted to see what the DAA had planned. I wanted to see what you were capable of, and I must say, I was expecting more.”
“Operator?” I whispered to my communicator, “Is this still Friday Night Lights?” There was no response from Brandon. “Operator?” I said again. The stranger answered my question.
“Having trouble communicating with your conspirators?” said the hooded villain, “I’ve silenced them. Now that your show is over, I want the American public to see you and the other Allegiant off script. No handlers. No orders. Just you and me.”
“Who are you?” I said, stepping forward.
“My name is not important,” he said, “Only my message is important.” How strange. A man with no name. No identity. A vacuum of self; driven only by a burning desire. An empty husk puppeted by an incorporeal will. A wraith. Then it dawned on me.
“X!” I said through gritted teeth, my righteous anger rekindled. A murmuring rose up from the stadium seats. “Finally, you’ve crawled out from the shadows. Are you going to answer for your crimes? Hundreds are dead because of you, you monster!”
“Necessary sacrifices,” said X. His words were cold and lifeless.
“Necessary?” I said, my body radiating a fiery red aura, “Sacrifices for what? What do you want?”
“I seek liberation,” said the long-elusive rogue, “Liberation from the lie that has been drawn over the eyes of the world for generations.”
“And what lie is that?” said Fox, joining me at my side. We both stood resolute against this ominous figure.
“The lie of the Allegiant,” said X, “For too long, the American empire - and its vassal states - have enslaved us using our own ultra-powered brothers and sisters to do its bidding. Instead of allowing us to transcend our species and reshape this world, the Allegiant work to maintain a system of oppression. Even now, they attempt to deceive you with their orchestrated events and their paltry displays of power. That’s because they are afraid. They know that the time of the Allegiant is over. The revolution has begun.”
“What a well rehearsed speech,” said Will. He slowly alighted on the ground next to me. “Is that all you have - words? Do you really think you can intimidate us so easily?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Lonestar,” said X, “My words are not for you.”
“Then who are they for?” asked Will.
“For my Vanguard,” said X. He shifted his focus away from us and spoke directly to the masses listening to his every word. “My comrades! I call upon you now to rise up. Now is the time that I have prepared you for. Now is the time to strike!”
It was an odd question. Will, of all people, wouldn’t care about the minutiae of a villain’s plot, only how to locate and defeat him. But then, the words from one of my books sprang to mind; page 39 of “Villain Psychology”. It spoke of how, deep down, all villains secretly wish for their motives to be revealed. They hunger for fame; for a legacy. They want the world to know precisely why they did what they did with little room for ambiguity. Will was trying to coax X into revealing more about his plot. Perhaps, with enough information, we could locate the fiend and apprehend him. After figuring this out, I tried to follow along.
“So, you think you’re a revolutionary, eh?” I said, “The Founding Fathers were revolutionaries. The first Allegiant were revolutionaries. Commander was a revolutionary. You’re just a thug hiding behind a hood!”
“Slavers!” hissed X, his voice reverberating in my bones, “Your American gods were slavers! Don’t you see? Your reality was built on a foundation of lies!” X had taken the bait. He was beginning to lose his composure. I smirked. Minute-Man also caught on to our tactic and joined in after me.
“And what exactly are you planning to do about it, pal?” he said, “Burn a few more dumpsters? Loot a few more convenient stores? Is that the revolution you have planned? If so, then we’re less than impressed.”
X’s seething was replaced with a cold laughter once more. I quickly glanced at my companions to either side of me. They could see that I was boiling with fury. My clenched fists were glowing white-hot with righteous indignation. There was nothing I desired more than to blast the megascreen with a beam of plasma and put an end to that insidious laughter. But, the eyes of Washington and Fox told me to stay strong. Soon enough this villain would reveal his secrets.
“Fools,” said X, “Ignorant fools. The protests were only a prelude. What comes next will be far more glorious.” He turned his attention again to his followers. “Comrades, do not lose hope. Your brothers-in-arms are coming to set you free. Even as we speak, the Vanguard are rallying. They have heard my call to battle. They will break down the prison doors. They will throw the jailers to the hounds. You have been given everything that you need. There is nothing that can stand in our way!” He then spoke directly to us once more. “You have seen that an Allegiant can be slain. If it happened once…it can happen again.”
Will’s eyes told me that he had heard enough. He glanced at my glowing fists and gave me a subtle nod. I now had permission to fulfill my burning desire. I stepped toward the screen and drew my fist back, my body wreathed by a wrathful fire.
“I would love to see you try, renegade!” I then threw my fist forward and released a searing beam of plasma that penetrated the megascreen, shattering it into a cloud of splinters, shards, and sparks. Many in the stadium gasped while others cheered. They were happy to be rid of that vile phantom. I turned and rejoined my companions. They followed alongside me as we quickly crossed the astroturf.
“That guy sure likes the sound of his own voice, doesn’t he?” quipped Minute-Man.
“He gave himself away,” said Lonestar, “‘Breaking down prison doors. Throwing jailers to the hounds’.”
“Where are we heading?” I asked.
“Detroit,” said Will, “There’s a renegade prison outside the city on Zug Island. ADX Rouge. It’s where the Hellhounds are locked up.”
“The Pit?” asked Fox. Will nodded. “Lovely.” Will then spoke into his communicator.
“Operator, are our jets ready for departure?”
“Yes, Lieutenant,” said Will’s operator, “They’re waiting for your command to take off.”
“Good,” said Will, “We haven’t a moment to lose. If the Hellhounds are unleashed, countless civilians will be killed.”
We exited the Ultradome and strode across the parking lot. Waiting for us were three private aircrafts: Allegiant 1, Allegiant 2, and Allegiant 3. The roaring of their engines scrambled my thoughts. No matter. Righteous indignation was guiding my actions, not my mind. Will suddenly paused and turned towards us, shouting over the din.
“There’s just one thing that concerns me,” he said, “‘You have been given everything that you need’...what did X mean by that?”
“He probably meant his little speech to the troops,” said Fox, “The guy thinks he’s God’s gift to the renegades.” Will scowled. He was not convinced.
“Just be extra cautious,” he said. Fox gave him a quick salute and a smile before leaving to enter his aircraft. Will began to ascend the ramp of Allegiant 2, but then stopped and placed his hand on my shoulder.
“That goes for you too, Ms. Cruz,” he said, “This isn’t a simulation or a staged event. Your first mission begins now.” With that, he entered his aircraft and the ramp closed up behind him.
As I entered the interior of Allegiant 1, my body was trembling with energy. A ravenous fire burned in my heart. At last I would battle with the renegades. At last I would fulfill my oath to my country. At last…I would bring X to justice and avenge all those that died because of his cold, godless voice. But, at the same time, I was greatly afraid. I could no longer hide behind the illusion of Americana. Now, she would have to become real.
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