Inside a former Russian military warehouse.

“Is the inventory complete, comrade?” an old Russian colonel asked. He was once a commisar during the Cold War, and after the fall of the Iron Curtain, he had transitioned to the regular army and made it up the chain of command until he offended a general and was posted out of the way in a desolate ammunition storage warehouse in Siberia.

“Yes, sir!” The former soldier snapped to attention and saluted the old colonel, handing him a folder containing the detailed inventory listing. “The stores have been tallied and logged.”

The colonel took the folder and opened it to the last page. He glanced at the total number and signed his name at the bottom, approving the final tally of ammunition in the warehouse. “Prepare for the handover process,” he ordered with a complex expression on his face. Despite how it ended, his career had been glorious, once, but what began with a roar was destined to end with a whimper.

He sighed, then turned his attention to the young soldier once more and said, “Don’t salute me. Neither of us are in the Army anymore.” He handed the folder back to his subordinate.

“Yes, sir,” the soldier replied and offered another salute.

The colonel smiled and patted the younger man on the shoulder, then got back into the car that had brought him to the warehouse and drove off toward the barracks a short distance away.

The young soldier held the salute until the car disappeared in the distance, then he dropped it and sneered, “You’re correct, comrade. None of us are in the Army anymore.”

He dropped the folder in his hand to the ground and gestured toward one of the civilian warehouse employees. “Let’s get to work,” he said, then turned and re-entered the building and closed the gate behind him.

......

A young, well-built man got out of a taxi at Chicago O’Hare airport. He reached in and grabbed a suitcase, then walked into the terminal with a calm smile on his face.

When he reached the security station, he nodded at the security officer and gave him a meaningful smile. Before long, he was past the checkpoint and casually strolled toward his flight’s gate. When he got there, he went up to the airline worker at the desk.

“Welcome, sir. Can I see your ID?” the lady behind the desk asked with a professional smile on her face.

“I only have my old one, since I haven’t received my new glasses yet. Will that be a problem?” the man asked as he handed over his old Illinois driver’s license.

“Let me check for you, sir,” the attendant said. She took his ticket and driver’s license and her gaze unfocused as she lifted her hands in the air and tapped on an invisible keyboard that only she could see. A minute or so later, she continued, “Since your flight is domestic, it shouldn’t be a problem. But I really do have to advise you to get your new empire ID registration handled as soon as possible, sir.” The smile was back on her face; she was obviously a long-time employee of the airline and had mastered the art of presenting a good face for the company.

“Here’s your boarding pass. Your flight is on time and you’ll be boarding at gate E14. The flight concourse is that way.” She pointed to her left. “Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

“No, thank you. It’s been a pleasure, miss,” the man replied with a warm smile and a nod of his head, then turned to his right and headed toward the moving walkway.

Similar things were taking place at airports around the world. Since martial law had been lifted, people who had been caught away from their homes by the chaos were finally able to return. Christmas was a very busy travel season, after all, so there were quite a few people caught at distant relatives’ homes. So the only odd thing was that there were a lot of people traveling with their old government-issued IDs; nearly half of travelers, actually. The oddity was that registering for an empire ID was fast, convenient, and simple, so why were there so many people traveling without one?

Still, it wasn’t a major red flag. Aron had given a generous time limit for registration and there were still two weeks left before services like mass transportation would be denied to people without proof of their empire citizenship.

……

Dubai.

The Dubai Mall in Dubai, UAE, was one of the largest shopping malls in the world. Boasting over 1.1 million square meters of floor space, it was a marvel of modern architecture and engineering, situated on the Burj Khalifa lake and connected to the Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the world. With an average daily visitor count of over two hundred thousand people, it was also one of the most-trafficked malls in the world.

Outside, an eighteen-wheeler was headed to the underground delivery area beneath the Burj Khalifa. But just as it was about to reach its destination, one of its front tires blew out with a loud bang and the driver nearly lost control of his truck. He only barely managed to regain control as the truck slid sideways, but when it jackknifed itself against the loaded trailer being pulled behind it, people watching from the street figured it was better than an overturned truck.

The driver got out of the truck, slammed the door, and kicked the remaining front tire. Then he pulled out his phone and dialed a number, engaging in a shouting match with the person on the other end. What people watching didn’t notice was the mysterious smile that briefly flitted across the man’s face, nor the seemingly casual glance he took at the watch on his wrist.

Still shouting almost incoherently at the person on the other side of his phone call, he looked up and saw that he had “coincidentally” stopped his truck just inside the entrance to the underground delivery dock of the Burj Khalifa and directly between the iconic tower and the Dubai Mall.

Seeing that he was exactly where he meant to be, he clenched his teeth and bit down on the hollow molar, cracking it and releasing a deadly poison that would induce a fatal heart attack. The pain immediately struck and he broke off his shouting with a gasp. Falling to his knees, he whispered, “The devil will not win. For liberation!”

Then he grabbed his chest, fell forward, and landed face-down on the ground, dead as a doornail.

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