“Turn on the TV,” Prek barks as he comes stomping down the stairs like his private parts are on fire too.
We all turn to him as he streaks past, headed for the living room and the humongous TV mounted above the large stone fireplace. He searches for a remote but the TV comes to life, and Prek starts watching it like the meaning of life is written across the screen. I look over to find Elon sitting on the arm of the couch with the remote in his hand. I didn’t even see him walk in here.
They must have been watching a witch news channel last night, because that’s what pops back up on the screen, and there’s a man in a suit and tie cheerily announcing the seven day forecast. Rogan sidles up next to me and hands me a full cup of coffee exactly how I like it, and I promptly pay him for his barista skill with a kiss.
“Thank you, Dave, for that fine weather update,” a quaffed woman declares in her best news anchor voice. “In other news, the manhunt is still on for former Order Captain Prek Orson. Captain Orson is accused of murdering two other Order members, Private Rick Alvarez and Special Agent Marx Bevit.” Marx’s picture pops up on the screen next to Alvarez’s and Prek’s, and I see red.
“Orsin is considered armed and extremely dangerous. If you see him, you are advised to call the local authorities immediately.” The woman shifts to a new camera angle and starts in on another story, and the living room is completely silent.
What in the actual fuck.
“Loose ends, that’s what you told me, right, Lennox? That the High Council was good at tying up loose ends?” he demands, thrusting his hand toward the TV like I don’t already see what’s on it. “Is my family in danger?” he asks, as though he didn’t ever consider it until now.
“No, they’ll run your name through the mud, make it so your own family wouldn’t help you if you turned to them,” Rogan tells him evenly.
I set my coffee down, unable to enjoy even one sip, and start to pace. Prek takes the remote from Elon and changes the channel to another witch news show. Within five minutes, they’re sharing the same bullshit report about Prek being a cold-blooded murderer.
“It’s everywhere. My cousin messaged me to ask me what’s going on. That’s how I fucking found out that the High Council just framed me for not one but two murders. How do they even know Alvarez is dead?” Prek asks, his voice strangled with anger and outrage.
I feel like shit, like I pulled him into all of this, but what choice did I have? He wanted the truth, and this is the truth. This is a perfect example of the fucked up shit that the High Council has been pulling for entirely too long. I look over at Rogan, hoping he can do or say something that will help, but instead I catch the tail end of a look he’s giving Elon and Cohen. He shakes his head as though he’s answering a question.
“It’s the perfect nail in the coffin, Rogan, not to mention I literally died to catch the footage. People are pissed. Our other video campaigns are working, but if we show them this video, it could tip things in our favor,” Elon argues.
“What video?” Prek and I both ask at the same time.
I step closer to Rogan as he runs his fingers through his hair frustratedly. “Elon took video of what happened yesterday,” he tells me, and it takes me a minute to realize what he’s saying.
“You have a video of the Order attacking us?” I ask, turning to Rogan’s brother, completely shocked.
“Better,” he counters. “I have video of the Order murdering Marx and of High Council member Bordow commanding soldiers to fire on other living and wounded soldiers.
“Holy shit,” I mumble, completely taken aback.
“You have to post that, and not just to clear my name, but because it’s the most damning piece of evidence anyone has ever gotten on the Order. People deserve to know the truth,” Prek growls, and as much as I agree with him, I also feel torn. I don’t want to see a non-stop loop of Marx being killed. It was bad enough the first time.
“It could blow up in our faces though,” Rogan argues. “You know how they work,” he tells Elon and Cohen. “They might have footage of the fact that they were fighting us, and they could flip this on us somehow. Paint us to be the aggressors, and then instead of people being against the High Council, they could turn on us,” Rogan counters.
“Maybe before, yeah, but they jumped the gun by trying to tie up loose ends with Prek. His face is on every news channel being cycled through every five minutes. They’re building a story to make him the bad guy, and we know it will get more and more convoluted as time goes on. Butwehave video evidence showing he’s not the killer at all,” Cohen points out.
“With the other videos circulating, Marx’s death would be one more push of proof that people are looking for. Plus, this just happened. The High Council can’t sweep it under the rug like some of the older claims. This shows that they’restilldoing everything they’re denying. Prek is right, people need to see that,” Elon adds.
Rogan huffs out a sigh, and I rub his back. “I get that, I’m not disagreeing with you, I’m just trying to plan for all the contingencies. They will find a way to make this our fault, and we need to be prepared before they do.”
“Not if we take them out before they can counterstrike. And this could make the people mad enough that they’d actually help us do it. I can cut the stuff with Marx out if it’s too much, but they need to see all the other times Bordow ordered soldiers to shoot into the battle,” Elon tells his brother emphatically.
Tad comes stumbling into the living room, looking worse for wear and not expecting to see the whole group gathered here. “What happened?” he grunts, looking around confused.
The news anchor on the TV starts reporting about Prek again, and Tad goes still watching it. Rogan looks at Prek for a moment, clearly debating what the right move is.
“No,” he states warily. “Don’t cut the stuff with Marx out. Prek deserves to have his name cleared, and Marx would want what happened to him to count for something. Fuck the High Council, and fuck their constant stream of lies,” Rogan growls and then gives Cohen and Elon the nod of approval they’re looking for.
They quickly jump up, ready for action.
“We should wait to post though,” I call after them as they hurry back toward the kitchen. Elon turns back to me, his eyebrow raised in question. “Let them spend most of the day digging a hole for themselves. Like Cohen said, they’ll start adding details and making themselves look worse. Once they do, that’s when we should post the truth,” I tell him, and he nods in agreement and hurries off to get to work.
“Are you going to be okay?” I ask Prek, knowing that this has to feel awful.
Prek turns off the TV and chucks the remote at the couch hard. With a growl, he strides over to the front door, throws it open and stomps out. I debate going after him to make sure he’s okay, but Tad shoots up off the couch.
