The Pentagon was busy, as always. The bustle of the movements of military consultants, commanders, civilian workers and contractors, and many other people, filled the hallways of one of the most secure installations on the planet. The outer ring and building was on a full lockdown. Soldiers stood guard at the entrances, checking identifications and scanning thumbprints of anyone that wanted inside the installation. This level of security, however, wasn't normal. Something was amiss, and any local civilians that noticed this decided that, perhaps, today was a good day to stay indoors.
Beneath the Pentagon, away from the noise of the men and women working towards the security of the nation, a briefing inside a soundproofed conference room was taking place. A group of very powerful men focused their attention on a single, nervous individual, who stood before them to deliver some bad news.
"Gentlemen, let's focus on the task at hand. Before we move on with other matters, we need to address the current issue. Major Jack Hemmings has briefed me on Improbable Operations Command's most recent development, concerning the Focuses."
Brigadier General Silva was an older man, with short-cropped dark hair shot through with gray. His uniform matched his character - crisp, impeccable, with not a thread out of place, with a very starched collar. His chest, and the campaign ribbons there, told his history, his life in a series of codified color bars, years of experience and a lifetime of command. He wore no medals, not for want of such decoration, but rather for lack of space to display the numerous commendations and awards he had earned in his career on a single garment.
The other men in the room were various Generals, in charge of domestic and foreign campaigns and military branches, as well as key members of the United States Government, including The Eagle himself. The Eagle was dressed in a subdued black suit, with a white undershirt and no tie. His eyes were focused, intent on the man standing before the impressive grouping of individuals. He gave General Silva a nod, "Carry on."
Silva turned his attention to Major Hemmings. "Major?"
Major Hemmings had never, in his life, felt more out of his league than this moment. The power these individuals evoked, both through force of personality and gift of rank and title, was overwhelming. Jack had a feeling that this was, possibly, the most important moment of his military career, and he knew that many people's lives hung on how he presented the coming news. Nervously, Major Hemmings cleared his throat. "Thank you, General. Mister President, members of the cabinet and staff, generals. The briefing I'm about to deliver is, obviously, classified, through the highest order."
Reaching down, Jack unlocked a briefcase, and withdrew from it the briefing dossier, and passed the multiple copies down to the nearest staffer, who passed them around the room. Once the dossier was delivered to everyone, Jack began. "If you'll turn to page one, we may begin."
The briefing started with a summary of the situation - IMPCOM's standing orders, mission records, and pertinent information involving the Focuses, The Island, and The Drive, as well as a short section on Improbability - before moving to the meat of the briefing, the real reason that the Major was there.
"Sirs, recently, during an operation to neutralize a Focus, designate 772, we encountered a situation that we had not yet encountered. Focus 772 was subdued, but during transport, was removed and replaced, through the actions of yet another Focus, whom we have since designated Focus 800. Focus 800 had the ability to cameoflauge himself, through taking on the physical appearance of other people."
Jack swallowed. Here came the kicker. "We initially were concerned, because so far, we have not had any intelligence that suggests that Focuses had ever come in contact with one another. The fact that 772 and 800 were working together was... disturbing, but not overly so. It was what we discovered upon searching the location from where we attempted to retrieve Focus 772 that raised our awareness of the severity of the situation."
Jack reached into the breifcase and retrieved a simple journal, a small paper-bound book, slightly grubby. Jack set the journal on the table before him. "This item is the personal journal of Focus 772, and from it, we have gathered that there has been established a large grouping of Focuses, all working together in order to evade IMPCOM's efforts at neutralization."
The room was quiet, initially, as this statement sunk in. The Vice President spoke first. "How was your intelligence so flawed, Major? There should have been records of communications between the Focuses, or surely a paper trail, phone calls... anything. How could your efforts to monitor the Focuses and prevent this situation have failed so utterly?"
Jack kept his expression carefully neutural. The man was right, he had failed, but it still stung. "Mister Vice President, the Focuses are using a mode of communication that we did not have the slightest inkling of. Allow me to demonstrate."
Jack withdrew a pair of clear plastic gloves from the briefcase and put them on, and then opened the journal. He searched through a grouping of pages, before coming to a page in the middle of the journal. Jack opened the journal fully, and placed it on an overhead projector tray, and turned on the projector. The projector did it's job, sending a much larger image of the page onto the wall, and silencing the quiet cross-talk between the men in the room.
The page was being written on, by an invisible hand. Ink simply flowed onto the page, forming letters which formed words. You are not alone in this. There are others, like you, and we are waiting. The writing continued unabated as the room erupted in sounds of surprise and concern. Jack smiled to himself. He couldn't have picked a better demonstration. The power of those written words were palpable. 'You are not alone'. 'We are waiting'. They couldn't ignore that, and he couldn't have asked for anything that better illustrated his point.
The Focuses had become organized.
Brigadier General Silva spoke over the murmuring group. "Major, explain how this is possible."
"General, to the best of our knowledge, this journal is linked to another, similar journal, somewhere where there is a focus. We've done only a few tests, but it would appear that there is a Focus that has the ability to create objects that, despite a great distance, react as if they were the same item. IMPCOM R&D are still working on it, and they're eager to continue their analysis."
Over the others, the Eagle spoke, his calm voice silencing the others in the room. "Major, what you are saying is that we have a force of unknown strength and capability on American soil, whose intent is unknown, and their danger to the security of the nation is... great."
Major Hemmings held up a hand, "No, sir. We understand, very much, their capability. But they aren't looking for a fight, sir. So far, their actions have not been hostile, insomuch as in self-defense when we've initiated hostility."
The Eagle nodded, slowly, considering. "Major Hemmings, you will agree with me when I say that the potential disruption to the public that could be caused if this information were to become widely known would be catastrophic. A potential green scare, as you've said before. The Island is a national pasttime, a world pasttime. Everyone watches the show, and the people are content with the thought that their television heros and Jokers are the creation of clever people with a penchant for special effects and a very large budget backing them up. People like their probability, and though few would care to admit it, the island is terrifying. The network plays up the absurditity, but the reality of the place is horrifying. Monsters of nightmares prowl those jungles, and if people knew that their nightmares were real? How do you think the public would react? What were your exact words, Major, the last time that you delivered a briefing to me?"
The room was silent, expectant, as Jack exhaled slowly. So, this is how it was. "Mass panic, Mister President. If it ever became public knowledge that the Island was anything more than a television show, and if it became knowledge that Focuses were able to create Probabiltiy Breakdown Manifestations off the island, away from the influence of the Improbability Drive..."
"Chaos."
"Yes sir. Chaos."
"Major, you will do whatever necessary to remove this threat to our nation, as well as the threat that it poses on a global scale. I'll be in contact with NATO, and by this time tomorrow, I expect you to report back with a plan for how to affect a global neutralization effort against the Focuses. We need their abilities removed. They pose a danger to the public and themselves. If it means potentially harming these Focuses, through accident with the Serum or in self-defense... so be it. They should be warned to turn themselves in, given a chance to comply and be neutralized, returned to their normal state of humanity. I won't be so nearsighted as to not give them that chance. They may be a danger to the public, but these Focuses are my citizens, or someone else's citizens. They are people, and deserve to be treated as such. Backing them into a corner would only serve to make them more dangerous. We will give them the option of surrender, and if they refuse, then we will have no choice but to engage them as the threat that they are."
The room broke into a round of applause, a show of consent from the gathered men. Jack frowned. This wasn't going to be easy, but... this is what he wanted, wasn't it? Action. A wider, larger effort, more men to assist him. Neutralization, on a global scale. An end to the potential threat that Focuses posed.
Jack couldn't shake the feeling that he'd made a mistake.
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