'Seven' Carmichael had been sitting silently in the Control Room at Prometheus Initiative headquarters for several minutes looking at the giant map of the globe which took up the gigantic wall across from him. He ignored the buzz of the agents swarming around, barking out orders and intercepting transmissions. There was a lot of work to be done...
Within the past three hours, hundreds of lights had ignited on that map. One light meant one incident in one city of the world. The Initiative used it to track happenings across the globe. When he'd arrived at the office awhile back, there had been 77 lights, which was something of a record.
Today, there were 490. Most of them in America.
In what had been the greatest display of aerial military might since Hitler's Luftwaffe, the Chinese government had invaded the United States. This was beyond World War III - this was a Clash of the Titans that would have made Chronos and Atlas run for cover. If America was able to retaliate, they'd use nuclear force and the world as he knew it would cease to exist, save for the cockroaches and the Twinkies. If China succeeded, the overnight balance of power would shatter global stability - economically, socially, politically. Either way, this was a disaster in the making.
But that's not what worried Seven most.
What worried Seven most was that there had been no build-up. There were no clues, at least none that he could have seen. No unusual activity within China over the last several months - other than the odd Elemental sighting... but that could hardly be considered 'unusual' for China. There was no evidence of weapons stockpiling or fleet amassing. No evidence of military insurrgence or technological breakthrough. No nothing.
Seven had never seen this coming... and, for a precognitive, that might be the scariest thing of all.
Precognition wasn't the only gift that Seven Carmichael had been gifted with, but it was the one from which he got the most use. He'd been able to catch glimpses into the future since he was seven years old. To the casual observer, it might look like a seizure or a small stroke. His eyes would roll back into his head, he would convulse a bit, maybe foam at the mouth and then snap right out of it. The whole thing lasted maybe a minute, tops.
The 'visions,' as he called them, started out as minor things - scraped knees, bumped elbows, and minor surgeries - and eventually evolved into bigger things, like deaths, wars, and global catastrophes. He'd never been able to control them and they certainly didn't pick up everything (he was still upset over the horse race he'd lost back in '87), but something this... epic should have come under his radar.
The fact that it didn't had rendered him speechless more or less since he found out about the incident.
"Dr. Carmichael," came a voice from over his shoulder. Seven didn't even need to turn around to know that Lucius Griffin was standing behind him.
"What is it, Lucius?" Seven said, staring intently at the lighted map. "Can't you see I'm busy?"
"We're deploying you to the States, Doctor," the head of the Initiative stated bluntly, ignoring Seven's pass at humor (which was likely lost on him at the moment). "We need you to assemble your field team, brief them, and have wheels up within the hour."
Seven sighed, taking his eyes off the board for the first time in hours. "There are so many things wrong with that, I don't even know where to begin, Lucius. One, I'm already in the middle of a case. Two, the United States has been declared a no-fly zone. Not officially, I know, but the Chinese fleet overhead pretty much makes that one a given, I'd think. Three, you haven't the slightest clue what it takes to prep a field op, do you? You expect me to assemble, debrief, equip, and be ready to fly out in an hour? You're insane. And, finally... what makes you think there's even anything we can do about this anyway?"
Lucius narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow. "This is no time for second guessing, Carmichael. It's the end of the world out there."
A sardonic laugh escaped Seven's lips. "No," he said darkly. "You don't get to tell me about the end of the world."
The two stood, glaring at one another in silence for several minutes, each daring the other to make the first move. Lucius, deciding to be the bigger man - which he was, by one inch and at least one hundred pounds - cleared his throat.
"Any theories, then, as to how you would handle a situation like this?"
"Puzzling thing, this," Seven said, gesturing toward the board. "Whoever would have thought China would be capable of such an offensive?"
"What are you driving at, Doctor?"
"Simply this: silence. Over the past several months, no records or blips or anything of something like this happening in China. And if we couldn't see this coming, the rest of the world must be even more clueless."
"Go on."
"If this is China, they're getting help from somewhere... and I'd like to know who," Seven said.
"Any theories?" Griffin asked, crossing his arms across his broad chest.
"A few, but you probably wouldn't like them. They all involve..."
"Yes, yes, yes," Lucius waved his hand in front of Seven's face, interrupting him. "What would it take to get this matter resolved?"
"Well, I'd need my command team and every unassigned agent put at my disposal."
"Done," Lucius said. "Who's your command team?"
"Well, Scooter, naturally," Seven said. He paused slightly, narrowing his eyes as he focused on Griffin. "If I'm going to do this, I'll want to do it my way."
"How do you mean?" Griffin countered.
"I have two demands for my command crew. If they're not met, I don't go out."
Griffin fidgeted. He didn't like being put in this position, but, given his options, what choice did he have? "The first demand?"
"I want Bai on my command team."
"Carmichael!" Lucius bellowed. "Be reasonable! She's only just gotten out of the hospital after all that she endured in Los Angeles! No sense putting her in greater danger when she's not up to 100%!"
"She's the closest thing the Initiative has to a Chinese liason and she goes," Seven smiled defiantly, gazing Lucius right in the eye as his hand went to his pocket for a cigarette.
"...and the second demand?"
"Norrin Frasier rides point," Seven said, raising his lighter to his lips.
If Lucius had been surprised by the first demand, this second one would have been the equivalent of finding photographs of him being whipped by Viatnamese schoolboys in thongs.
"You can't be serious! He's a criminal in our custody!"
"He's an asset," Seven said, exhaling a pillar of smoke from his nostrils. "You can't deny it."
"What makes you say that, I wonder?"
"Buzzwords," Seven said. "He knows things. About the future. He's been there. He's seen it. He probably even owns the T-shirt. That kind of knowledge and experience is going to prove invaluable in this sort of situation, wouldn't you say?"
Lucius was visibly fuming. His usual ruddy face was not completely scarlet and that vein in his forehead would not stop throbbing. He very deliberately and stiffly checked his watch, then looked back at Seven.
"You have forty-nine minutes until wheel's up, Dr. Carmichael," he said curtly. "I suggest you get your assets together."
