Louis Collins: A Post-American Odyssey

They drove through the night, the city lights blurring past. The signal jamming truck and the two armored SUVs kept their formation.

“Sir, we have authorized a raid on the Crimson Spotlight office in Century City,” the lead SUV’s comm said. “LAMP is already on site. We are clear to proceed.”

“Good,” Louis said. “Let’s go.”

“Do we have a warrant?” Willa asked.

“I’m the warrant,” Louis said.

Willa sighed. “Of course you are.”

“Do you have a problem with that, Willa?”

“No,” Willa said. “I’m just noting the absurdity of it all.”

“Get used to it,” Angelique said. “This is our life now.”

“I know,” Willa said. “And I love it. And I hate it. At the same time.”

“It’s called cognitive dissonance,” Donya said.

“It’s called being a hypocrite,” Willa said. “And I’m not the only one.”

“No, you’re not,” Donya said. “But it’s better than being a victim.”

“I agree.”

Gladice laughed. “You two should have your own talk show. ‘Cognitive Dissonance with Willa and Donya.’”

“I’d watch that,” Maeve said.

“Me too,” Cherish said.

Savannah smiled. “Maybe we should.”

“I’d rather kick some more ass,” Gladice said.

“And you will,” Louis said. “Soon.”

They arrived at the Crimson Spotlight office. It was a shared workspace in a modern glass building. Several police cars and Dominion Guard SUVs were already parked outside.

“Alright,” Louis said. “Let’s go.”

They got out of the cars. The Dominion Guard officer met them at the entrance.

“Sir. The office is on the fifth floor. We have secured the floor. Some employees are still there. Ten of them. Six men, four women.”

“Good,” Louis said. “Lead the way.”

They took the elevator up. The doors opened to an open space filled with desks and monitors. The employees were sitting at their desks, their hands on their heads. A Dominion Guard officer stood in front of them.

“Sir. We have them all. No resistance.”

“Good,” Louis said. “Which one of you is in charge?”

A man near the end of the row slowly lowered one hand.

“I am,” he said. “I’m the managing editor. My name is Mark.”

“Last name?”

“Foster.”

“Mark Foster.” Louis nodded. He turned to the Dominion Guard officer. “Have you searched the premises?”

“Yes, sir. No weapons. We have seized all the servers and personal devices.” The officer gestured to another guard, who was busy loading laptops into a case. “We’ll conduct the main data analysis at the lab,” the officer added.

“No, let’s do it here,” Louis said. “I don’t like waiting.”

Willa stepped forward. “I can help with that.”

The officer looked at Louis. Louis nodded. The officer gave Willa a secured tablet.

“This has access to the seized network,” the officer said. “Everything on their local servers has been mirrored.”

“Good.” Willa sat at an empty desk, her back straight, and powered on the tablet. Louis turned to Foster.

“Mark Foster. You run a gossip rag. A troll farm. You feed garbage to your followers. And you sent them after my family.”

Foster swallowed hard. “Mr. Collins, it’s not what you think. We are a media outlet. We provide content. That’s all.”

“Content?” Angelique stepped closer. “You call that content? You called us sluts. Traitors. Whores.”

“We were just… reflecting public sentiment,” Foster said, sweating. “It’s what our audience wants.”

“Then let’s give your audience what they want,” Louis said. “A story about a corrupt media organization that spreads hate and fear. A story about a criminal enterprise that violates national security. A story about a bunch of sad, pathetic losers who are about to lose their jobs, their freedom, and their future.”

Foster’s face turned white. “Please, Mr. Collins. I have a family. A mortgage.”

“Then you should have thought about that before you fucked with me,” Louis said.

Foster looked at the other employees. Some of them were crying. Others were staring at Louis.

“Mark,” one of the women said. “Just tell them what they want to know.”

“I can’t,” Foster said. “I signed an NDA. I can’t reveal my sources.”

“An NDA?” Gladice laughed. “You think an NDA is going to protect you from us?”

“I… I’m scared.”

“You should be,” Maeve said. “Very scared.”

Willa looked up from the tablet. “I found the campaign folder. It’s called ‘Project Crimson.’ The talking points, memes, and influencer list were all created here.”

“Where did they get our personal information?” Louis asked.

“There’s a separate folder containing background reports on all eight of us. Some have more details than others.” She froze for a moment and continued. “Louis, they have naked photos of you, Angelique and Gladice.”

“What?” Angelique’s eyes widened.

“Where are they from?” Louis raised his voice.

“Looks like it’s from a warehouse where you were held.”

“The warehouse in New Orleans,” Gladice said, her jaw tightening.

“They were taken while we were drugged,” Angelique said.

“How would they have those?” Louis asked.

Willa studied the screen. “The reports were imported from an outside vendor.”

“Which vendor?”

“The files are encrypted. Give me a minute.”

“Take your time,” Louis said. He walked over to Foster. “You have one minute to cooperate before I lose my patience.”

Foster looked at Louis. “Please, Mr. Collins. I’m begging you. Don’t do this.”

“Tell me who supplied the reports, Foster,” Louis said, drawing his M1911. “Or I will make your life a living hell.”

Foster stared at the gun. His hands trembled. “Okay, okay! We ordered an emergency background package from an NGO. They gave us the raw information. My staff turned it into campaign material. That’s all I know. I swear.”

“What NGO?” Louis asked.

“Common Roots Foundation,” Foster said, wiping sweat from his brow. “They specialize in identity research, family history, and missing-person records.”

“Based where?”

“Portland.”

“Oregon?” Angelique asked. “In the Dominion?”

“Yes,” Foster said. “But they operate elsewhere too. In the Collective, the Central Union, and even the Great Lakes Alliance.”

Willa looked up from the tablet. “I’m in. The imported reports carry Common Roots metadata. Crimson Spotlight paid them one hundred thousand dollars for an emergency background package.”

Louis looked at Foster. “Why did you pay that much?”

“We wanted the scoop,” Foster said. “Your appearance in Chicago caused a stir. Everyone wanted to know who your companions were, where they came from, and why they were with you.”

“So Common Roots gave you the information,” Donya said, “and you turned it into attacks.”

“We were just… looking for more clicks.” Foster lowered his head. “It’s a competitive market.”

“I’m sure it is,” Louis said, putting the M1911 away. “But you picked the wrong target.”

“What are you going to do with us?” a young woman near the window asked.

“Have you published the naked photos?” Angelique asked.

“No,” Foster said, looking up. “We just got them. We were… discussing them.”

“Discussing what?” Savannah asked. “How best to humiliate us?”

“No,” Foster said, shaking his head. “We were arguing. Some of us thought it was too much. Others wanted to post them.”

“And which side were you on, Mark?” Angelique asked.

“I was against it,” Foster said. “I swear. Otherwise, they would have been online already.”

Angelique looked at Louis. “Should we believe him?”

“I don’t know,” Louis said. “But we are going to find out.”

“Please, Mr. Collins,” another woman said. “I have a child. I can’t go to jail.”

“Then you better start talking,” Louis said. “Who else was involved in this campaign?”

The women looked at each other. One of them spoke. “It was Mark’s idea. We were just following his orders.”

“You bitch! Don’t blame me for everything!” Foster yelled. “We all agreed to this. We all wanted the money.”

“You promised us a bonus if the campaign went viral,” the woman said. “We didn’t know it would get this… ugly.”

“Then you are stupid as well as evil,” Angelique said.

“Please, don’t send us to jail,” the woman said, crying. “I have a child at home. I can’t leave him.”

Louis looked at Donya. “What do you think?”

Donya looked at the woman, then at the other employees. “I think they are not the masterminds. They are just… employees. They made a bad choice. But they didn’t know the full consequences.”

“I agree,” Louis said. “But they still need to pay a price. Not a prison sentence. But a price.”

“What kind of price?” Maeve asked.

“A public apology,” Louis said. “A live stream. On Tengri. With their real names and faces.”

“On their own accounts?” Willa asked.

“Yes.” Louis looked at the employees. “And you can start looking for your next job after that. Because Crimson Spotlight is shutting down. Today.”

Foster looked at Louis. “You can’t do that. We have investors. We have contracts.”

“Not anymore,” Louis said. “You can submit a complaint to the Supreme President’s office. I’m sure they will listen.”

Foster’s face crumpled. “My life is over.”

“Maybe,” Louis said. “But you are still alive. That’s more than you can say for some of your victims.” He turned to the Dominion Guard officer. “Arrest Foster. Take him to Santa Catalina. For the others, let them apologize live. Then release them.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And get those photos off the server. Delete them. Forever.”

“Yes, sir.”

The guards led Foster away. The other employees looked at each other, relieved.

“Thank you, Mr. Collins,” the woman with the child said. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Louis said. “Thank Donya. She saved your ass.”

Donya looked at the woman. “I hope you learned your lesson. And I hope you find a better way to make a living.”

“I will,” the woman said. “I swear.”

“Good.”

The guards led the other employees to a conference room to prepare for their live stream.

“We got them,” Savannah said. “But what about the Common Roots Foundation? They are the real source of this problem.”

“Looks like we’re going to Portland.” Louis turned to Angelique. “I guess your parents won’t mind eight extra seats on their jet.”

Angelique raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure they’ll be thrilled.”

“I’m sure they will,” Louis said. “I wonder if the foundation has any connection to the Dixies.”

“Or to Lumen Path Shipping,” Willa said, still looking at the tablet. “It’s a possibility.”

“It is,” Louis said. “And we will find out. In Portland.”

Gladice said. “Let’s go to the source and cut off the head of the snake.”

“What if the snake has more than one head?” Willa asked.

“Then we’ll cut them all off,” Gladice said.

Willa shook her head. “I still think this is a bad idea.”

Angelique smiled slightly. “Or we can just enjoy a trip to Portland. I can show you my horses.”

“I like horses.” Cherish’s eyes lit up.

“I do too,” Maeve said. “But I like kicking ass more.”

“Then we’ll do both.” Angelique said.

Louis looked at the women. “Let’s go home then. Maybe we can find some sleep before we fly out in the morning.”

“Good idea,” Gladice said. “I need to rest my kicking leg.”

By the time they got back in the cars, it was past two in the morning. Louis turned on the auto-drive mode and leaned back in the seat. Savannah looked at him, her eyes half-closed.

“Are you okay, Louis?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’m okay.”

“It’s a lot,” she said.

“It is,” he said. “But I’m glad we did it. I’m glad we are doing this together.”

“Me too,” she said. “I never thought I’d be on the side of the law. Or the ones making it.”

“Times change,” Louis said.

“Yes, they do,” she said.

“Still,” Donya said from the McLaren’s comms. “I hope this doesn’t become our new normal.”

“Why not?” Gladice asked. “It’s better than being on the run.”

“Maybe,” Donya said. “But I don’t like the idea of becoming the thing we fought against. A bunch of powerful people who use violence and intimidation to get what they want.”

“Tough, Donya. That’s who we are now,” Savannah said. “And I’m fine with it.”

“I’m not,” Willa said. “But I’m here. And I’ll do what I have to do. For you, Louis. For all of you.”

“Thanks, Willa,” Louis said. “I appreciate that.”

“Just… try to be reasonable. Okay?”

“I’ll try,” Louis said.

Willa sighed. “That’s the best I can hope for, I guess.”

They drove back to the Presidential Mansion. The guards at the gate saluted them as they drove in. Louis left the Mustang in the courtyard. The others parked their cars behind it. Maeve got off the Ducati and took off her helmet. Her hair was messy and her face was flushed.

“That was… something else,” she said. “I’m still buzzing.”

“Me too,” Louis said. “Let’s go inside.”

They walked into the house. Night-shift staff appeared to take their jackets and offer them drinks. Louis asked for water. The others did the same.

“Tell my parents we are back,” Louis said to one of the staff. “And that we are going to board Philip’s jet in the morning.”

“Right away, sir.”

They went upstairs. Louis scrolled through the alerts on his phone. His phone was filled with Tengri alerts. VOP’s coverage was positive as always, while the comments filled with arguments, threats, and messages of support. The Crimson Spotlight apology stream was already live, one of the employees a tearful mess in front of a webcam. He closed the app.

“Looks like our work made the news,” Louis said.

“I bet it did,” Gladice said. “The trolls must be shitting themselves.”

“I hope they are,” Savannah said.

Cherish looked at her phone. “A lot of people are saying nice things about us. That they support us. That they are proud of us.”

“That’s good,” Donya said. “But don’t read the bad comments.”

“I’m trying not to,” Cherish said. “It’s hard.”

Willa walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, Cherry. You are enough. Just the way you are.”

Cherish looked at her and smiled. “Thanks, Willa.”

“You’re welcome.”

Louis walked into his bedroom. The others followed. He took off the gun holster and laid it on the dresser. Gladice kicked off her heels and fell onto the bed.

“I’m exhausted,” she said.

“Me too,” Cherish said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I’m not,” Maeve said, pacing the room. “I’m wired. I feel like I could run a marathon.”

“Or break someone’s nose,” Savannah said.

Maeve grinned. “That too.”

Louis climbed onto the bed and lay on his back. Gladice crawled over to him and rested her head on his chest.

“Tired?” she asked.

“A little,” he said. “But mostly, I’m glad we are all here. Together.”

“Me too,” Angelique said, lying on his other side.

Louis put an arm around each of them.

“I’m sorry about the photos,” Willa said, sitting on the other bed. “That’s a violation. A serious one.”

“How bad were they?” Angelique asked.

“Bad,” Willa said. “Very bad.”

“I hope I didn’t look fat,” Gladice said.

“You looked drugged,” Willa said.

“Did I stick my tongue out?”

“No.”

“Pity,” Gladice said. “I like to be expressive.”

Angelique sighed. “This is not a joke, Glads.”

“I know,” Gladice said. “But I’m trying to make it less awful. It works for me.”

Louis squeezed her shoulder. “I know. I like that about you. But it’s not easy for everyone.”

“I know,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Angelique said. “We all have our own ways of coping.”

“That’s true,” Donya said. “I have been praying for strength and wisdom. To guide us. And to forgive our enemies.”

“I don’t want to forgive them,” Maeve said. “I want to make them suffer.”

“And we will,” Savannah said. “With bullets and knives.”

“Or with lawsuits and public shame,” Willa said. “Both are effective.”

“I prefer the first option,” Maeve said.

“I know you do, my love,” Louis said.

Cherish looked at them. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. I just want to be safe. And happy. With all of you.”

“We all want that, Cherry,” Donya said. “And we will have it.”

“I hope so,” Cherish said. “I really do.”

“We will,” Louis said. “I promise.”

He kissed Angelique’s forehead, then Gladice’s. They held him tighter. The others found places on the three beds. He closed his eyes and let his breath slow.