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Red Moon: Revolution

Chapter 7

"Damn traffic." Rommel gripped his steering wheel tightly as he glared ahead at the brake lights of hundreds upon hundreds of cars. People were coming home from work now and that created traffic jams that stretched for miles. It would be hours before they would reach the airport. "Traffic was never this bad back in Germany with the autobahn."

"I don't think we'll make it in time for a flight out." Banks said as he looked on, studying the way the traffic seemed to move forward an inch at a time. "We've managed to catch the evening rush at its worse."

"It would be better to find a place to settle down for the night." Trevor said from the passenger seat. He leaned his arm and head against the side of the car window. He ignored the traffic and instead looked out to the side where he could see the neighborhood that his house was at, off in the distance. He imagined that his friends, if they hadn't all passed out by now, would be looking for him. It would be a few days before any real search effort would be made since they would innocently assume that I would be back eventually.

"Hang in there, son." Rommel reached over and squeezed Trevor's shoulder. "I know it's tough, but in war tough choices need to be made. If you didn't come-"

"I know what would happen if I didn't go." Trevor snapped, but quickly calmed down. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap."

Rommel didn't even flinch a muscle. "It's alright. I would be disappointed if you weren't stressed out." He gave a warm smile and moved the car up the few feet that opened up as to not let the driver in the other lane swipe it away. He'd be damned if he had to wait even an extra second. "It means you care and that's good. Too many people don't care anymore nowadays."

"What do you mean by that?" Trevor asked as he sat up straight in his seat. It was unhealthy for him to keep staring out at his home, that was the past and he needed to work on the future like he had done before.

Rommel looked back over his shoulder at Banks and Adornato who were having their own discussions about what exactly was going to happen to them. "Either of you know anything about The Coordinator?" Rommel cut right into the middle of the conversation, getting their attention right away. He had learned a long time ago that, with enough confidence and enough credibility to back him up, he could cut into any conversation and get what he needed. It was rude, but he had never had the time for manners when fighting a war. Obeying simple social standards tended to get in the way of progress. It was something that he had made use of back in Africa all those decades ago and even then, there were some people he couldn't speak over or through.

"No." The two said in near unison and then Adornato took over.

"I don't really think that anyone knows about him." He rubbed his chin, feeling the stubble that was there from missing his evening shave. "From what I've heard, he just appeared one day and sort of took over intelligence."

Rommel looked over to Banks expectantly, hoping for the chance that there was something that they knew that he didn't.

"Sorry." Banks raised his hands up into a shrug.

Rommel knew that they weren't telling the truth, or at least not all of it. As much as he felt that he needed to learn as much as he could about the mysterious Coordinator. It was because of him that the Inquisition was still there.

"Who exactly is this Coordinator?" Trevor queried. At first he hadn't cared much about the name, but as it got thrown around more and more, his curiosity was peaked. "You keep talking about him as if he's some real big shot."

"As you may already know, not much is known about him." Rommel decided that a proper education on the enemy and its capability wouldn't hurt, especially since they had plenty of time. The cars ahead only showed their flashing brake lights as frustrated drivers slowly moved forward. "He appeared at the end of the Cold War at the fall of the Soviet Union and what I thought was going to be the end of the Inquisition. They had in a slow decline since World War 2 after many high key members were tried in the Nuremberg Trials. While the Inquisition didn't believe in Fascism, they used the Nazi's for their own ends and that came crashing down on them." Rommel slowly relaxed into his seat as he recanted the history. He looked like a grandfather telling a group of children a fairy tale.

Trevor listened closely, hooked on the words of the elderly man. Even Banks and Adornato were silent, absorbing information about the man who had been running the show behind the scenes for so long. They bit their tongue, not wanting to blurt out anything that they thought would be important. Trevor and Rommel were werewolves and years of service had made them less than willing to put their trust in their host's. They were there against their will as far as they were concerned and even though they didn't have any thoughts of malice or ill doings, they were going to keep their mouths shut for the time being.

"What was left was a rabble of mid-level officials and foot soldiers that were left without much purpose or direction." Rommel continued even though the traffic was moving again. As much as he would like to think of himself as still being sprite, he really did enjoy the things that were often considered the job of the older and wiser generation. "They fragmented and fell under shaky leadership, doing little for the next several decades as the hunkered down into the nuclear era. They never recovered until a few years before the end of the Cold War." Rommel remembered it clearly. "Then suddenly, they managed to do a complete one-eighty. They suddenly became organized and dangerous. I lost eighteen pack members in three months. I had allowed my pack to become complacent and fat off of the feeling of security and I paid for it."

Rommel fell silent, recounting all of the pack members he had lost because of The Coordinator. Each death was preventable. He could have stopped them from dying if he had just been more cautious. He didn't say how they died, but he replayed the events of how shootings, disguised as communist terrorist attacks that took place in West Berlin, managed to hit the homes of his family in a blitz. They used his own technique that he had employed in the world war against him in a cruel twist of fate and just like in the war, the effects were devastating.

"I'm sorry." Trevor said sullenly, suddenly feeling very awkward. "I didn't mean to dig up old memories."

"Don't feel sorry." Rommel sighed and rubbed his temples. Trevor didn't know any better and it was vital that he knew exactly who he was facing and understood just how dangerous this man was. "The memories are what keeps me going, they, my family who have died, are the reason why I keep fighting. I will have my revenge." Rommel's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel which gave off a high pitched whine as he left permanent hand prints. That would be hard to explain to the rental dealership.

They drove on in silence as the traffic picked up in speed and the city got closer. Trevor thought about how it seemed everyone was motivated by some sort of revenge or hard feelings. Sergei, who Trevor remembered as a very angry and resentful werewolf had been torn away from his life and hated everything because of it. Now Rommel was telling him that he fought so that he could gain retribution for the death of loved ones. It made Trevor wonder what would motivate him to fight. Necessity? Self-defense? He didn't know what it would end up being, but he just hoped that it didn't turn into something that would turn him into a monster. He knew what lurked inside of him and that was a monster enough, he didn't need something to turn that into something worse.

Just as the silence was becoming unbearable to everyone in the vehicle, Rommel's cell phone vibrated in the cup holder. Not caring for no talking and driving laws that he had seen broken two dozen times in the past half hour, Rommel grabbed the pre-paid flip phone and answered it.

"Ya?" He said, giving hint to his heavy German ancestry. Rommel's stern face slowly changed into one of slight surprise as the speaker on the other end began to talk.

Rommel gave a quick glance over to Trevor who was back to looking out of the window. It was Dmitri on the other end and by the way he was speaking, something was going on at the airport.

--

Dmitri hung up and slipped his phone back into his pocket as he peaked around the corner of the men's restroom. He had lost the Inquisition agents only to run into another group who had just arrived off of a flight from South America. The place was crawling with them and that worried Dmitri.

"I hope you do the right thing." Dmitri said to himself, more concerned about his mate's safety than anyone else's.

The coast was clear. There was no Inquisition agents nearby, visually or within earshot which was strange. They had seemed so intent on catching up with him and to have them stop after only a short chase seemed unlike them. The Inquisition was supposed to be a like a swarm of mosquitos, constantly biting and pestering him no matter how much he swatted. Something else must have gotten their attention.

While logic dictated that he should leave and meet up with Rommel, he couldn't leave what was now nearly thirty Inquisition agents go unaccounted for. They were here for a reason, and Dmitri, in his paranoid and protective fashion, automatically assumed they were all after Trevor which was partially correct.

Two years was too long for Dmitri and natural, werewolf instinct would normally keep a mating pair together, tied at the hips. The long durations of separation had compounded Dmitri's need to be with his chosen mate. Now that instinct was telling him to protect him from all possible harm.

Dmitri slowly walked down the moving walkway, letting everything go by him at a rate that allowed him to catalogue everything in the back of his mind. It was just like hunting in the woods, except he was in a forest of people and concrete and his prey was most likely to fight back. His eyes slowly scanned everything from an old and joyous couple that were getting ready to board a flight to Hawaii to some children that were huddled around a power outlets, their faces buried in their gaming devices. He saw everything.

Dmitri slowly made his way from the east side of the airport to the west side where he had originally run into the first group of Inquisition agents. It seemed as if they had simply left, leaving him to waste nearly an hour doing nothing but walking in circles.

He was about to call it quits when he spotted both groups congregating at a currently unused gate terminal. Some sat while others stood and talked while the man with the briefcase spoke to another man. They looked like they were arguing about something. The man in the brief case waved his arms around him as the other man seemed impassive to the longue lashing he was getting. Those that weren't involved in the conversation looked nervous as if they were anticipating something.

Dmitri kept his distance, moving around the edges of the area until he found a seat where he could keep his back to them and eavesdrop.

"I don't care what The Coordinator thinks or says, you can't be here." The man with the briefcase hissed. "Seattle is an unclaimed area that is under the authoritative jurisdiction of Director Caughey. You can't just march in here without permission."

"Look." The other man said calmly and impassively. "I have my orders, you have yours. I plan on carrying out mine and I'm sure you would like to do the same."

"Yes, but I would like to complete my objectives without breaking regulations."

"Always by the book, hmm." The man crossed his arms and began to tap his foot, a sure tell sign of waning patience.

"Don't mock me." Briefcase said "Rules are what keeps the Inquisition going-"

"Rules that are old and outdated." The calm man cut in. "The Coordinator is the real reason why we're all here."

"Fuck The Coordinator." Briefcase spat out. That got the other man fired up since he held The Coordinator in an almost godly manner.

"You... take that back." He said with a waver in his voice. "Or..." He let the threat hang in the air. At the back of his mind, he knew that he was making a mistake. He was a trained Guardian, and should have known better than to try and instigate something, but that same training made him quick to act as well. When there was a threat to something vital, even something as ethereal as someone's image, he reacted quickly to defend it.

"Or what?" Briefcase chuckled. "You can't do anything here." He waved around the airport showing that there were people around. "Regulation 13, Article 7 of the handbook: the public is to remain as ignorant as possible to the Inquisition as possible." He recited the regulation from memory. "You can't touch me."

It was a dare, a challenge to him, one that he took seriously. The Coordinator had plans, plans that didn't involve those that weren't loyal to him. What harm would it do to accelerate those plans?

The Inquisition had many resources, including agents in nearly every part of the US government, including TSA, specifically the part that dealt with baggage and security. The Coordinator not only had access to this, but even more as his own private network of spies and agents allowed him to do more than anyone else.

Dmitri stood up quickly as he saw what he thought was the lost thing that would happen.

The gunshot echoed across the airport. The man with the briefcase didn't even hit the ground as the other Inquisition agents that accompanied him were pounced upon by who they thought were allies. The Battle of Seattle just begun.