Lowell helped me get dressed before we immediately bolted for the seddies' room. He probably woke up half of the top floor from how he slammed it shut, but neither of us cared. One of the seddies was awake, something we should've been overly excited for!

            That is, until we heard the muffled screams coming from the room.

            Lowell shoved the door open for us to see the tigress—Jeanne, I think was her name—squirming against her bindings on the army cot. Jordan lay atop her, holding her down against the flimsy makeshift bed and jostling a piece of cloth into her maw.

            “Jordan!" Lowell barked in alarm, “What the fucking hell're y—"

            She spat the cloth out. “Demons! I'm surrounded by demons!"

            “Abigail, where's that sedative?!" Jordan practically shouted into a nearby radio. “Abigail, take the stairs!"

            “I'm hurrying, doctor!" the rabbit hissed through the frequency.

            “Please…" the tigress sobbed loudly, “I need to be asleep! I'm sinning just being awake!"

            “Stay quiet, Ms. Holt!" Jordan grunted. “You're not in any danger!"

            “Being awake is a sin! I have to be asleep!"

            “Jeanne, please be q—"

            “Let me sleep! Please, I beg of you! For the love of God—"

            The white ferret immediately grabbed the cloth and stuffed it in her maw again, still earning us some shrieks that seemed louder than they should've. The tigress spitting out the cloth again, but Jordan held a paw over her mouth (she started reciting what I assumed were biblical verses through hushed mumbling) while trying to keep himself emotionally composed. I could barely do that myself, standing there in the middle of the room.

            “What the fuck is going on, Jordan?" Lowell spoke up finally. “What kind of sick kinky shit are you doing to her?!"

            “Shut the fuck up, Lowell! This is not a good time to run your stupid mouth. If she isn't quiet—"

            Before anyone could explain, a sudden knock at the door compelled him to look through the peephole. Soon, the knocks boomed even louder against the wood.

            “Shit," he whispered, craning his neck towards us. “Jordan, Adam, get out of sight."

            The ferret wordlessly pulled me away to the far wall before the door opened.

            “Heeeeey sir!" Lowell spoke strangely. “Mfh, a-are we….are we being too loud?"

            “I'll say!" someone spoke through the cracked door, “What in the name of God is going on in there?! It's half past ten in the evening, and some of us have a job tomorrow!"

            The tigress tried saying something through her cloth gag, and I half-panicked the fur at the door would hear and we'd all be reported to the Archangels.

            Miraculously though, Lowell called, “Hey, I told you to keep the movie paused!"

            “What's going on?" the voice raised itself.

            “Oh, I'm sorry, so sorry about that…ya see," he hiccupped and giggled, “My b-buddies and I are watchin' this horror movie, about some liberals that take a town hostage—you know, that one that came out years ago—and we turned the volume up too high."

            “Are you drunk, young man?"

            “It's not Sunday is it? At least," the wolf fake-belched, “not for another hour or two…"

            “Listen, dropout," the voice, obviously male and impatiently tired, replied, “I have a business meeting tomorrow at six, so keep it down or I'm getting the manager!"

            Lowell nodded while waving a paw. “Okay, okay, I'm so sorry! We'll be quiet, I promise, sir."

            “Alright then. Thank you. Have a good night."

            “You too," the wolf closed the door, then when we heard footsteps receding. “Moron."

            Jeanne continued reciting verses through her gag until a minute later, Abigail arrived discreetly with the sedative. Standing beside the tigress, seeing her tearstained cheeks as her feline eyes darted deliriously around the room. When she saw the syringe, everybody braced themselves the moment she screamed again.

            “Shh, don't worry, sweetie," Abigail cooed her with an equally frail paw. “You're safe."

            “Let me sleep! Let me sleep! Let me sleep!" Jeanne repeated in muffled growls, until the sedative started working once more. “Let me sleep! Let…me…sleep…"

            The female feline laid her head back until the only sign of life came from her rising and falling chest. Jordan tentatively removed the cloth in her mouth and stuffed it in the trash, his expression grimmer than I'd ever seen him. I couldn't blame him, to be honest. Neither could Lowell, who started crushing my paw with his.

            According to him and Abigail, as they explained, the tigress had been unconscious until thirty minutes ago. Jordan had been doing one more check-up on the three seddies that night when he initially noticed her eyes open and her jaw trying to open or close. Like me a couple months ago, an eternity rather, her muscles had been severely atrophied and refused to move. However, by some miracle or unfortunate circumstance, she started screaming at the top of her lungs like a possessed banshee.

            “Clearly, she's been brainwashed heavily by the clinic. Adam, before you were put under back in Cicero, did the orderlies tell you this kind of stuff, how being awake itself is a sin?"

            “…yeah, they did," I nodded, trying to choke down the putrid vomit rising in my stomach. “They always did. Every month or so we woke up, they made us…say that stuff."

            Lowell offered me a shocked, sympathetic look, which I gladly returned.

            “Her being put under for an extended period of time had probably degraded her mind," he told us his theory. “Right now, she possesses the mind of a twelve-year-old tigress in a sixteen—no, seventeen-year-old's physical body. Ms. Holt may require years of therapy, but that's something we don't possess or have the ability to properly perform."

            “What do you suggest then, doctor?" Abigail asked him. “Keep her sedated like they did?"

            “That's a bullshit idea! No offense, Abby."

            The elder fur sighed. “None taken, Lowell. I was being sarcastic."

            “Of course not!" Jordan exhaled, then nodded. “I'll go talk to Mrs. Cardinal downstairs about the situation and ask what she wants us to do. For now, all of us should go to bed and try to sleep on this debacle."

            “Sure, alright." Abigail patted me and Lowell's shoulders, her soft smile clashing against the exhausted sadness in her eyes. “You two get going then…"

            Without a word, we left for Lowell's hotel room, but not before I glanced back to Jeanne Holt and memorize the relaxed agony in her expression as she slept.

            “Are you okay, Adam?" Lowell asked after we entered his room. “Adam?"

            “I'm…fine."

            “Are you sure…?"

            “I don't…I don't know." 

            “Do you…" he paused, the continued asking, “Do you want to spend the night here?"

            Nodding after little thought, my reply was, “…I'd love that."

            “Okay," the wolf smiled. “We can share the bed then. Trust me when I say that couch by the door is worse to sleep on than it is to sit on." Struggling to keep ourselves from laughing again, we sat together on the sheets. “Listen, before what happened in…in the seddies' room, we don't have to continue—"

            “No, no, we can," I gripped my pants, “not tonight though…"

            “Of course, I completely understand, Adam. I'm here with you."

            In any other circumstance, I would've most likely been flustered and eager at the prospect of sharing a bed with Lowell, but not tonight. He didn't even argue when I suggested sleeping on different layers of bed sheets to separate our bodies.

            “Hehehehe…" he laughed out of nowhere.

            “What's so funny?" my eyes widened in slight disgust. “Don't tell me you farted."

            “No, no, it's just," Lowell snickered, “you forgot your cane earlier…"

            I exhaled at the realization. Along the wall, by the bed, rested that thirty-six-inch long stick that'd been by my side all these weeks.

            “Then I'll be damned…" I laughed shortly. How about that.

            As we drifted into sleep, my mind rested on the face of Jeanne when she begged us to have her sleep. I couldn't stop myself from imagining myself in that cot, screaming at the top of my lungs for someone to take me away back to nothingness. The sounds of her wailing and sobbing churned something deep in my guts, to the point I willed myself not to vomit all over the blankets.

            Truth was, I didn't want to sleep. I wanted to hobble out of the Maverick Hotel, either catch a cab or walk, and search for the sick monsters who did this. Then I remembered how said monster resembled every face out there, walking along the streets of Rosemont without knowing what was going on around them. Or hidden away from them.

            At least, part of me wanted to. The other half yearned for someone to hold onto. To keep me stable in this storm of emotions. Fortunately, when an unconscious Lowell turned over and tenderly wrapped his arms around my torso, our tails curling and flicking at our footpaws, I was able to have pleasant dreams.

***

            Life resumed the next day, and Abigail told us that until a solution could be found, they were moving Jeanne to another room in the hotel. This one was soundproofed, but Johanna wanted Jordan to do his best in trying to heal her mind. In the meantime, it'd be a miracle to find an experienced therapist somewhere in the dozens of hidden Defiant cells across the country.

            To distract myself between nursing duties and spending downtime with Lowell, I continued reading some of the pamphlets from the Truth Committee. Among the first few I read were those involving the history of gay relations across history, going as far back as Ancient Egypt and especially pre-Devout America. Apparently, the beginning of LGBT rights in the United States began with the Stonewall Riots circa 1969, but the movements dwindled with time as the Revenant Party slowly rose to power fifteen years later.

            Did you know there existed bars where our kind could form friendships and dance and celebrate life without pretending to live one? I didn't know, nor did I know the existence of a new phrase I learned while reading a pamphlet sample they copied weeks ago. This one was titled, 'Separation of Church & State: How Religion can Corrupt Government'.

            “'Originating in a 1802 letter written by Thomas Jefferson, the phrase 'separation of church and state' has been used by scholars and judges in interpreting the function of the now-defunct Establishment Clause and Free Exercise Clause of the Constitution's First Amendment'," I read it aloud, with Lowell watching a show beside me on the bed. “'Although it'd been challenged for two centuries, the Revenant Party in particular went above and beyond to turn it into a toxic phrase among the American populace.

            “'Then-President David Farthing and his platform transformed it into a belief that doesn't protect religion, but rather bans it in the public forum'," I continued, “'However, the existence of a wall between the state and the church is to protect the state and the church. As it's said in the Bible, believers in Jesus Christ aren't perfect beings, and are corruptible, and destroying this separation only invites conflicts of interest within government, whether it be a trial in a local village or in a senate committee in Washington'…Huh."

            “Mind-blowing, isn't it?" Lowell commented.

            “I guess so…" I trailed off, “but I'm still trying to understand why separation of church and state is a good thing to have in democracy."

            “What do you mean?" the wolf eyed me curiously.

            “Well…why is it bad to include your personal beliefs in government?" I asked.

            I pointed down at the open pamphlet. “This is basically telling me I'm not allowed to express my belief in God if I become a mayor."

            “No, that's what the Devout made you believe," he corrected me, pointing down again at a certain passage. “Lookie here: it later says on this that anyone should have the freedom to form their own beliefs, but it doesn't exempt yourself from being above the law. The same can be said with a religious group or an institution. Fuck, even the Revenants before they took over."

            One ear of mine rose up attentively. “Sounds like an imperfect system…"

            “Just because it isn't perfect doesn't mean it is bad though," he argued further. “Separation of church and state keeps the role of a democracy from being interfered with by some senile old church leaders that want to control everything you do."

            When I kept my eyebrow raised at him, Lowell paused the TV show and explained, “You know how most court houses have plaques of the Ten Commandments placed outside 'em? A fair trial is supposed to be that: fair. Now any cub that complains their parents are beating them will be told that running away or fighting back breaks the 'honor thy father and thy mother' rule. And any couples who divorce nowadays have to pay a bullshit 'divorce tax' because they're breaking commandment number seven by seeing other people…"

            “Wait, wait," I interrupted, “I understand what you're saying here, but there's still the sins of not committing murder or stealing. The courts still try people for those crimes."

            “Yeah, but that's three out of ten commandments though, Adam…" he sighed with a flick of his tail, “and those three commandments are broken by the government on a regular basis. By the President, the Archangels, soldiers, you name it."

            I blinked with widened eyes. “Fair enough then."

            In the end, I couldn't deny that Lowell was right. Even so, a part of me still firmly fought back against the tone in his voice. It was like he simply dismissed no value in religion.

            “It's a shame really," he mused towards the TV screen, which was paused on a FaithTV-run commercial on purchasing war bonds for the D.S. Army, “For being a religion about love and kindness and redemption, they really twisted it into something more horrible."

            “Me too." I said deadpan. “Me too."

            Lowell's ears fell. “Oh crap, I didn't mean—"

            “No, you said it. I'm a horrible person for believing in God."

            “Hey, I wasn't…" he sighed, clearly defeated and ashamed. “Look, I wasn't saying all Christians are bad."

            “But you were implying it though," I grumbled.

            “I'll admit to that then. I'm sorry, Adam. The only people I like to insult are the enemy, and you're not it. Is there anything I can do?"

            I set the pamphlet aside and folded my arms, trying to resist myself from smirking.

            “You can make it up to me by showing more of that Western Republic porn?" I asked later, to which Lowell laughed shortly.

            “All would be forgiven then?"

            I winked and coyly responded to him, “…maybe. Depends on what else Tobias and Dyson do together."

            He didn't hesitate to fish out the flash drive videos on that laptop again. Late into the night, we certainly had our fun browsing through the porn that was interrupted (I never knew so much smut existed in all my life, and this was just a smidge of it available out there), but Lowell also introduced me to other works of entertainment that didn't involve moaning naked men. There were reality shows, talk shows, TV shows and web series that captivated our attention. Lowell's (and subsequently my) favorite television program from the Western Republic involved two brothers working together in fighting against supernatural oddities. We loved the chemistry of the brothers, even openly commenting on their looks while laughing at the comedy.

            One other show that caught my attention involved an episode from a pre-Devout TV show during the eighties. It was set in Miami, and managed to speak about issues FaithTV would no doubt have censored had it existed earlier. One episode centered on one of the vixens finding her openly gay brother planned on 'marrying' his life partner, despite her being uncertain about their choice. All of it premiering thirty years ago. Seeing this episode stirred hope for me as I laughed tears alongside Lowell re-watching it.

            Life continued onward as much as it did, yet there came eventual changes I didn't see coming. Another day or so following the Seddie Incident—as all the resistance fighters started calling it—I was surprised to see Lowell waltz into the infirmary room with a black eye and the cockiest grin I had ever seen someone wear on their muzzle.

            “Good Lord, what happened, Lowell???" Abigail gasped. “Tell me you didn't—"

            “Heh, one of the other fighters called the tigress and the other two upstairs 'useless', so I called him a cock-sucking traitor, then he punched me, and I headbutted him."

            “Oh my God…" I groaned at the wolf. “Really, Lowell?

            “I didn't need a specific, detailed report from your foul mouth," she slapped his shoulder, sighing as I handed her a cloth. “Did you have your fight downstairs? The last thing we need are guests wondering why hooligans are—"

            “No, in one of his rooms—" Lowell winced when she pressed it onto his bruise.

            “Don't be rude and interrupt me when I'm speaking to you, Lowell!" Abigail commanded of him. “Did your mother ever teach you any manners as a cub?"

            “Sorry, Abby…" he whined, then relaxed when that cloth was replaced with a damp one.

            “Does Mrs. Cardinal know?" I asked.

            “Yeah, in fact," Lowell half-smiled with that returning grin, beaming it towards me, “her messenger told me she wants you and me to meet her next door as soon as you're done with me, ma'am."

            “Good. Whatever she'll do to you will be sufficient to what I would do to you for acting so childish." The wolf and I gulped in nervous unison, staring at the rabbit as she gently handed him a cold pack to place on his black eye. “Adam dear, you go with him then."

            Placing it in his backpack after a short session, Lowell closed the door behind us and walked over to one of the other hotel rooms in the hallway. He knocked, and it creaked open after footsteps could be heard on the other end.

            The doe peeked her muzzle through the door. “Come in, boys."

            Today, she wore a pair of old jeans and an even older white wifebeater that clung onto her large stature. If it weren't for her cleavage and her lack of antlers atop her head, it'd be difficult to mistake her for a male.

            Same design and same layout as usual for her hotel room, but what struck me was seeing the handheld shotgun in the nearby umbrella stand, with a box of casings neatly stacked beside it.

            “I need to finish recording something, but take a seat, and I'll be right back."

            Johanna strolled to the back bedroom (this one having a separating door as a new addition, disconnecting the first room from the rest of the interior) and left us waiting. I clung to my cane tightly before sitting on a nearby chair beside a corner fridge, only for my eyes to wander out of curiosity. On the right side of the wall hung pinned photos and string pinioned onto various maps. A few of the faces seemed familiar, but a third of them had a black X slashed over them. Any attempts for me to understand were in vain.

            To the right side of the room rested a small couch and a weight set Lowell started touching curiously, his paws trailing along the different weight until he stepped on the nearby workout mat on the floor. The wolf certainly sneered when we saw the Jesus Christ portrait was replaced with one depicting President Nessen. Heavily vandalized with scratches and black marker.

            “She's got good taste, don't ya think?" he chuckled.

            “She's asked you to come in here before, hasn't she?" I asked.

            “Yeah, but she never had that before," he thumbed towards the disheveled portrait, “I was wondering why she online-ordered that through our dummy account…" Our ears turned towards audible noise on the other end of the bedroom door. “You ever listen to her podcasts?"

            I could hear her through the door. “Rather than inform us about sex, the Revenant Party seeks to make us terrified of the very concept. And by making us terrified of sex, they can demonize and shame those who have it beyond marriage. That was the case of one of our rescued patients that was sedated…"

            “Yeah," I replied solemnly. “Every time one was taken down on a website, another copy of the episode appears on another site. I'm surprised they don't arrest people for listening in."

            “They want to, but it's hard to arrest hundreds of thousands all at once without turning cities into ghost towns. The bastards will try sometime though…they always find an excuse."

            Minutes later, Johanna's voice cut short and she invited us into her bedroom, where an entire corner dedicated to electronics, with a lone microphone placed in front of a closed desktop computer. Johanna didn't seem pleased with Lowell, to say the least.

            Sitting on the bed, Johanna motioned to her eyes. “What the hell is this, Low?"

            “A black eye?"

            I leaned against the wall, watching this play out. Just a mayfly on the wall.

            “You know my policy on fighting within the hotel," she lectured him. “Zack doesn't tolerate anything that can make guests suspicious of what's going on in the other hotel rooms."

            Zack, as in Zachary Haim, was the forty-something ocelot who worked as the Maverick Hotel's manager. From the bits and pieces Abigail and others have mentioned, Zack used to be a resistance fighter himself until a hip injury prevented him from ever doing field work ever again. One fake car crash, some previous hotel management experience and a transfer to Chicago later, the old cat actively supported us however he could. That, and it was rumored he and Johanna had a thing for each other that went past professional, despite lack of evidence.

            “You weren't there, J!" he whined. “Hector was being an ass and called our tigress seddie a…" The wolf growled, “He called her a useless, psycho cunt. Plus, he's the one who hit me first, alright?"

            “Look, Hector's going to be dealt with, I guarantee that," she pressed him, “but I've made it absolutely clear: no more physical fighting in the hotel. If you want to punch more than a bag in the gym, then go start a fucking fight club for all I care. I need everyone focused and ready for next week's operations…"

            Lowell and I blinked at her with raised ears.

            “Listen, I don't want you to discuss this yet with anybody in the Maverick, but the other Defiant cells are planning something big. And to pull this off, I'll need the cooperation of everyone in here, including you two. For some field work."

            “Including me?" I repeated her words aloud.

            “Including him?" Lowell asked, “Johanna, what're we—"

            “Adam," she glanced to me, “from what I heard, you managed to run to Abigail's aide a couple nights ago without the need of your cane. That's fantastic progress, but you can't use one of those as a weapon, so keep going. I can't divulge anything now, but I'm ordering you to do Dr. McCann's exercises even more. Can you do that?"

            I nodded. “Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am."

            “Good, and Lowell, keep outta trouble, or I'll have you and Hector sharing a room from now on. Got it?"

            Lowell gulped and growled at the same time. “Yes, ma'am!"

***

            Days later, in the dead of night, I found myself in a room on the Maverick Hotel's ground floor. Past the lobby and through a wide corridor, guests would notice the door leading to the pool (note to self: try to find a swimsuit for the future) on the right side, and on the right side an entrance to a conference room capable of housing twenty or thirty people. Guess who packed it?

            Coming wasn't exactly smooth. Granted, my muscles still felt sore after doing the exercises, but that wasn't it. In order to avoid suspicion from the guests, Defiant members in the hotel entered the blind-shut room every fifteen minutes or so.

            “Who the fuck chose 'Bilbo Baggins' as the password?" Lowell asked me and Olivia between us. Together, we sat along the left chairs around a wooden table that made up most of the space. “What's the next password: 'Samwise loves Frodo'?"

            “Heh, like you ever even read the books…" the otter to my right huffed.

            “Hey, I read that shit," Lowell growled lightly. “I was expecting Frodo to kiss Samwise the minute they discussed how much they'd die for each other. It's the perfect fucking love story, Liv!"

            “Oh please, you say that about every romance you read!"

            “No! Remember how I vomited after finishing Dusk?"

            “You drank too much that night and tried reading the last few chapters, dumbass."

            “And I vomited from how awful it was!"

            “Will you two shut up and fuck already?"

            Lowell suddenly glared at a fennec fox who walked to the other end of the conference room table. The way they stared, I didn't know if either wanted to kill or kiss each other. Mainly the former with the light-furred fennec, whose bandaged nose gave away the name.

            “Take it that's Hector?" I whispered to Olivia.

            “Yep," she nodded. Before I could ask why I rarely saw his triangular face around the hotel, the otter discreetly added, “Hector's got issues, and prefers to stay in his room between missions. He's also a bit distance. Believe it or not, he fought alongside the Mexican resistance over in Chihuahua."

            “Coahuila, Liv! It was Coahuila!" the canine barked in slight annoyance. His dark eyes sharpened when they fell on me, though only momentarily. “What is he of all—I mean, why did Johanna invite him?"

            “Hey, piss off, Hector! He's not as useless as you are!" Lowell growled at him.

            The fennec fumed, “He—"

            “He has a name, Hector. Both of you sit down and shut up, now."

            Our necks jerked to the commanding voice of Johanna, who locked the doors and walked over to the front of the conference table. Lowell and Hector immediately complied, though not without throwing mental machetes at each other with their minds. I swear, if it weren't for the six-foot-one, transgender ex-Archangel in the room, they wouldn't be afraid of throwing punches.

            I guess resistance fighters will be resistance fighters, my mind mused.

            Among the members around encompassed Lowell, Olivia, Jordan, Lucius, Hector, Donald Griffith, Abigail in a checkered shirt dress as well as a short, scrawny badger feverishly scribbling something into his notebook.   

            Who knew so many defiant souls could hide in a single building?

            “I need you all to focus now," Johanna sighed at the end of the table. “Patrick, can you do me a favor and put that notebook away for a moment? Please?" The badger reluctantly shoved it into his nearby bag, playing with the pencil in his paw. “Good, now let's begin."

            She turned the projector on and dimmed the lights, showcasing a series of photos that silenced every murmur in the room. The first several photos revealed a skyline where the Devout American flag—classic stripes with a snow-white cross in a sea of blue on the top left corner—proudly hung as massive banners from the top of buildings. Probably the most notable structure was a needle-like tower that stood above the rest, undamaged compared to a few of the scarred buildings around it.

            Toronto.

            More imagery flashed before our eyes; Canadians packed tail-to-tail in 'redeeming camps', a Devout soldier forcing three furs to kneel and pray with his machine gun pointed at them, a whole village reduced to ashes by bombs, a pile of bodies stripped of their clothes and dumped into a pit in some wooded forest.

            One picture revealed a squadron of Archangels burning down an entire metropolitan library, with many cheering and paws raised high. Another was aerial photography showing a whole valley of barren wilderness, with the only moving creatures the metallic machines excavating the land. Each image sent cold shivers down my spine.

            “The Canadian resistance managed to smuggle these out of Toronto thanks to our friends in Detroit," Johanna explained somberly, “What you're all looking at is confirmation that everything they're showing on the news is only a quarter of the true story. Counterintelligence from the Western Republic believes that the invasion's main objective was to catch them by surprise and scorch their way up to Anchorage to cripple 'em in one swoop. Luckily—by some miracle—a spy managed to warn the Republic just in time, and the Canadian military, or what's left of it at this point, joined up in keeping the Devout as far as Edmonton and along the Mackenzie River. A friend of mine up there says it's been trench warfare at this point…

            "Unfortunately, that still leaves Nunavut, Saskatchewan and everything east of Manitoba under occupation. The Devout aren't just annexing these parts of Canada: they're destroying everything that goes against the ideology of the Revenant Party. We already have testimonies that entire towns have been evacuated or wiped out in the northern territories, with the resources being strip-mined. Don't even get me started on how many conversion clinics are up there…"

            “Holy shit," Lowell exhaled beside me.

            “You fucking said it…" I replied without thinking. “My God..."

            “There is more." The doe winced before clicking on the projector again. “The rumors are now true. As of last Tuesday, the resistance confirmed…that there's Minutemen IIIs in their country, ready for launch in case of a NATO invasion."

            Other voices began murmuring throughout the room.

            “Malditos Estadounidenses Devotos!"

            “They're insane! This is all insane…"

            “The scoundrels. Do they know what they're doing?"

            “Fucking Devout…"

            “Why the fuck aren't we doing anything?!"

            “Those pussies should just flatten D.C!"

            “Calm down everybody!" Johanna ordered. “NATO and the U.N. won't risk endangering millions of lives, not like this. They're already placing severe sanctions on the D.S.A. in retaliation for this."

            “Like they haven't already done that!" Hector growled at her and everyone else.

            “You have something to say, Mr. Ruiz?" Abigail piped up.

            The fennec paused. “I…do."

            “Well?" Johanna added impatiently, “Then spit it out."

            ““Half the world's already sanctioned them! What makes this different? Are they gonna send a letter to Washington that says, 'Please free Canada, or we will write you another letter telling you how angry we all are. Love, the United Nations'?"

            “Are you done?" Johanna asked after a moment. The fennec firmly nodded. “Good. Because you're absolutely right, Hector. There isn't much they can do. But there are things we can do."

            Johanna slowly smirked at everyone in the conference room. “Canadian resistance is already making life a living Hell for their new 'governor', but they'll need help. Me and the other Defiant cells have been in communication since mid-June, and we're all pooling our men and resources for a single core objective: forcing the Devout to withdraw their troops."

            In an instant, the melancholy mood melted away from everyone's faces. Some in disbelief, some in hopeful thought and most in utter glee. Guess where me and Lowell fit in?

            My wolf was the first to say, “Are you seriously suggesting we…?"

            “You heard me correctly. It's time to change the ground war," she turned the projector off and the lights on, continuing, “We've been hiding in plain sight for too long. Sure, we rescued a large number of conversion patients in April, but that nuisance to them will be miniscule compared to the chaos we're gonna create for the Devout government. We are going to make them afraid of us. Of every cell across the D.S.A."

            “Will it work?" the hyena mused. Hector elbowed him. “Ow! I wasn't—"

            “It will work," Donald raised his voice. “The Western Republic has allies all over the world while Devout support is dwindling. If it can be shown the Devout aren't as all-powerful as everyone thinks…"

            “You're correct, Griffith," Johanna nodded in his direction. “However. We are not going to be terrorists. We're not going to murder in cold blood either, only in defense. The only hearts we're going to strike terror into are the wicked ones that belong to Devout authorities: police, officials, clergymen, Archangels, the National Church, the Revenant Party and even the fucking Presidency itself. We will give them a reason to pull their soldiers back to the homeland, and that reason will be us!"

            Lowell and quite a few members cheered in loud amazement.  

            “Alright, alright, keep it down before you wake the entire hotel!" she hissed, “Okay, thank you. Now, in order to avoid any more suspicion for the Maverick, we'll be even more careful when we're all outside. Only contact me or Oscar when you're at the safehouses.

            “Speaking of which, I have Oscar working hard on some code upstairs. It should only take until tomorrow. Let's just say the 4^th of July this year will be the beginning of our new campaign, boys!"

            Everyone cheered in hushed whispers, but our enthusiasm could be felt through the doors. In that moment, I think nobody had a smile latched onto their muzzles. Personally, I couldn't wait to help the Defiant cause chaos against the monsters who hurt me, but I was more excited for tomorrow. Tomorrow, I was finally going to go outside the Maverick Hotel.