Chapter Text
Scott was now standing in the General Kinsey’s large office. It was located on the surface of the base, so it had the advantage of a window looking directly outside. The desert landscape beyond contrasted with the cold, formal decor inside. There were no personal touches here, only a few metal lockers for storing files and a plain desk behind which the senior officer was currently seated.
It had to be said he did not spend much time in Blackwing’s facilities. He oversaw the lieutenant colonel from a distance, like a number of other officers, projects and dossiers spread across bases scattered all over the country. And because of the workload and responsibilities he carried, he had learned to compartmentalize, and thus to care less about methods than outcomes.
But since this was the very first steps of Riggins’ most promising subject, he had been ordered to babysit the situation. Later on, he would mainly be there to collect the reports that would justify continued funding of the project.
Fully aware of the value of the time he had been granted, Scott did not waste a second before addressing his superior:
“General, if I asked for this preliminary meeting before the full team briefing, it’s because I want to raise my doubts regarding the next steps of the Tomlinson case.”
“I’m listening,” the older man replied calmly.
“Well… to apprehend him, the Abaddon project proposes a rather… questionable solution…”
“Get to the point, Riggins. I don’t have all day.”
Riggins bit the inside of his cheek. Even though he had prepared his speech, he no longer knew how to frame the situation. He opted for a direct and concise approach, since his superior was already growing impatient.
“He wants to plant a bomb in a bus,” he said, the words spilling out at a frantic pace, as if that might make them feel less real.
Kinsey raised an eyebrow.
“Indeed. That’s radical.”
The General paused, during which the lieutenant colonel had, without realizing it, stopped breathing.
“That said, the CIA has done worse.”
Riggins was first surprised by the pragmatism, then admitted that his superior was not entirely wrong. During this brief internal debate, he also realized he had unconsciously hoped for outright refusal, which would have given him a good excuse to reject Priest’s plan. But faced with Kinsey’s response, his remaining sense of morality forced him into self-sabotage.
“Thank you for your support, General, but this is Osmund Priest’s first operational deployment and we have no certainty yet regarding his reliability…”
“Then why are you here if you already have your answer?”
The lieutenant colonel was slightly taken aback by the question.
“I… I suppose I needed your advice… And your approval… And your authorization, of course.”
“Scott, this is your project and your career. I’m certain you’ll make the best decisions not to screw up either one.”
Under this thinly veiled threat, the officer swallowed hard. His attention suddenly fixed on the tip of his shoes, polished to a shine by the careful buffing they had received the night before.
“Is that all?”
“Yes, sir.” His gaze lifted as his posture straightened.
“Good. We’ll see each other at the meeting then.”
The officer’s tired eyes dropped back to the document in front of him, and Scott took that as a cue to leave promptly. He thanked his superior respectfully and turned toward the door when Kinsey added:
“By the way, Riggins, my departure has been moved forward. My plane leaves tonight. The rest of the events will therefore reach me via reports.”
Scott snapped a sharp salute and left the office, oddly enough with the answers he had come looking for.
Everyone was present in the briefing room to discuss the strategy for making contact with the hacker.
General Kinsey sat at the head of the table, Riggins at his side, then Olson and Reynolds, and finally, opposite them, the field team and Priest.
Riggins cleared his throat discreetly and began:
“Alright, I’ve called this meeting today so we can discuss the next steps.”
“With Agent Reynolds, we’ve proposed a strategy,” Olson added, his gaze drifting randomly across the room.
“If we’re here, I assume the plans have changed,” Priest replied with a faint smirk.
“Indeed,” Scott answered. “They have. I’ll let you explain why, Osmund.” Priest straightened slightly, looking at the project lead with barely concealed hostility.
He was not particularly inclined to explain himself to others about the hacker’s abilities—or his own. He also disliked having to justify or argue; he simply wanted to act without owing anything to anyone.
He knew why Riggins was cornering him like this, though. He wanted to force him to do what he should have done from the start: confide in his two supervisors. And since he hadn’t, his punishment was to do it now, in front of everyone. He had to admit the old fox was clever.
“I reckon this so-called Tomlinson actually has a step ahead of events,” he almost growled, the words coming out like a sulking child.
“How do you know that?” Roberts asked.
“You would too, if you read the reports, but you don't, do you ? You look like a guy who doesn't sweat the details.” Priest’s tone was sharp, his gaze disdainful.
Roberts gritted his teeth and massaged the angular lines of his jaw to contain rising tension.
Immediately after, Olson and Reynolds began frantically searching through the files they had brought.
“That doesn’t appear anywhere in the reports.” Reynolds defended.
“Because no one else was able to make that deduction. Except me,” Priest replied coldly.
“So you’re suggesting he’s what? Some kind of psychic?” Rivera’s mouth twisted on the word, skeptical.
That was exactly what Priest feared—that they would all think he was delusional. He was many things, but he was not insane. Troubled, yes. But not insane.
“That’s the purpose of Blackwing, for the record. To identify individuals with specific, even extraordinary abilities.” Riggins stepped in.
They all knew that. But until they were confronted with it directly, it remained an abstract reality.
“Alright, let’s assume that. Then what’s the plan to make contact with the target?” Porter redirected.
Priest and Riggins stared at each other. The leader broke the silence:
“We need to stage a catastrophe.”
The entire team, except Porter, looked at him in shock.
“Wait, what? What are you talking about?” Martinez interjected, her high-pitched voice betraying her panic.
“We need to create a disaster he can prevent, something that will force him to reveal himself,” Scott continued carefully, trying not to escalate tensions.
“What… kind of disaster?” Olson asked weakly.
“A timed bomb on a bus!” Priest jumped in, unable to contain his excitement. Shattering his superior’s carefully diplomatic strategy, who was shaking his head in disapproval in his direction.
Without a word, the shocked gazes of the field team and the two supervisors shifted in turn, in that exact order and with near-perfect synchronization—from Priest, to Riggins, waiting for a response that did not come, and finally to Kinsey.
The latter finally spoke, as it was truly necessary at that moment.
“This idea does not appeal to anyone here, except Agent Priest. However, we must admit he may be right. If Tomlinson’s role is to intervene in catastrophic scenarios to prevent them, then we must create one to make him appear.”
“Excuse me, General, but that’s madness. We can’t risk civilian lives on a simple hunch…” Reynolds protested.
“Agent Reynolds, mind your language when addressing your superiors,” Riggins interjected with authority. “Admittedly, this is a hunch, but I have full confidence in Osmund on this matter. That is why I recruited him, and even if I acknowledge that the nature of this plan is quite extreme, the situation is just as extreme.”
“You can’t be serious…” Reynolds murmured, defeated.
“You want to attract Tomlinson with profit motive; it’s useless,” Priest said coldly. “His approach is altruistic. He’ll only intervene if he perceives a threat—and only if it’s real.”
“So we’re supposed to believe this when he hasn’t proven anything in the field?” Reynolds challenged, looking Riggins straight in the eyes.
“For now, it’s the most promising option,” Scott replied. “We knew we would have to use unconventional methods. You all agreed when you joined Blackwing. Moreover, this is a test for Agent Priest. We need to know whether we can trust his expertise."
“Besides, you’re not paid to believe, but to obey,” Kinsey snapped impatiently. “Or would you prefer to end up in the hole for insubordination?”
“Thank you, General,” Priest replied with a hypocritical smile.
“Don’t thank me. I don’t trust you either. But I trust Lieutenant Colonel Riggins. If this fails, you’ll go straight back to where we found you: in prison.”
Priest’s expression changed instantly. His smile tightened into a grimace as his jaw clenched while he imagined leaping across the table and strangling the officer.
“Osmund, can you give us a moment?” Riggins asked.
The young agent, biting his lips, felt irritated and was struggling to keep his temper in check. He took advantage of the request to slip out without a word and go cool off, fully aware that an outburst here would not end well for him. He also knew perfectly well that his superiors would first diplomatically, then forcefully, impose his solution on the rest of the team. That prospect suited him just fine, so he had no reason to object.
Once he had left, the room relaxed slightly.
Riggins continued:
“I’m fully aware of what I’m asking to you…”
“Lieutenant Colonel, with all due respect, we understand our mission here, of course. But it’s difficult for us to place blind trust in the Abaddon project… It seems unstable and dangerous to all of us here—even to you, I’m sure. The stakes are enormous, and we don’t even know if he is truly committed to our cause…” Reynolds argued, as the other members of his team nodded in agreement.“
“Agent Reynolds, I know that you're a good man, and a really good agent, but I know Osmund Priest better than anyone here. I’ve been studying his case for years now. He does indeed display borderline behavior, and his methods may seem unethical—I acknowledge that. But I also know he has a visceral need to follow his instincts. They are often marked by violence, yes, but I am convinced there is a reason behind all of it. That’s why I created Blackwing. I believe he is capable of bringing all these projects together—I can feel it.”
“Sir, if I’m not mistaken, Abaddon is the angel of destruction—it represents chaos… Aren’t you afraid that its role in the grand design of the universe is simply to wreak havoc? Like a bug or a glitch in the matrix?” Roberts interjected, and everyone fell silent for a moment before turning questioning looks toward Riggins.“
The latter paused, taken aback by the relevance of the question; he had never really considered things from that perspective. It took him a moment to compose his response internally and suppress the irresistible urge to send Blondie in the hole for a few days on an insubordination charge. After a brief pause, he replied:
“I have a strong feeling that Priest is here to bring the projects together and push them to fulfill their purpose, no matter the means. Even if he must indeed sow chaos and destruction to achieve it…”
Kinsey was beginning to grow irritated; the conversation was going in circles, and if a decision wasn’t made unilaterally, there would be no way forward.
“It’s settled, then. The lieutenant colonel is confident. You are ordered to proceed with the operation with Priest’s assistance. Everything will remain under your superior’s supervision. Are we done?”
“Yes, General, thank you.” Riggins then turned to Olson and Reynolds. “I’d like to speak with the two of you further.”
The two of them nodded, resigned. The field team stood and began to leave the briefing room, dejected and defeated. They knew they had to obey their superiors’ orders, no matter the cost. All that remained was to hope they were right—and that Priest wasn’t simply a psychopath looking to satisfy his thirst for blood.
Priest had just received his first explicit authorization to transgress.