The aircraft carrier had interrogation rooms scattered across multiple decks. The team separated. Isolated. Each facing their own inquisitor.---Julie - Interrogation Room 3, Medical DeckShe sat in a wheelchair, still too weak to stand for long. IV drip attached to her arm. But her eyes were clear. Defiant.CIA Agent Morrison sat across from her. Mid-forties. Kind face. The type who probably had daughters Julie's age."Is your brother planning to join Theodore Blackwell?"Julie's laugh was bitter. "My brother plans to destroy the Consortium. Including Theodore.""He let Theodore escape.""He let a sinking man reach safety. That's different."Morrison leaned forward. Sympathetic but duty-bound. "Julie, I know you've been through hell. We have reports of what they did to you. A year of torture. Brainwashing. We can help you. But you need to cooperate.""I am cooperating. I'm telling you the truth.""Your truth. Or Kai's truth?"Julie met his eyes. "Same thing."Morrison sighed. Made a

The submarine’s interior defied everything Kai expected. Not military sterile. Not cramped and claustrophobic. Luxury. Actual luxury.Wood paneling lined the corridors. Comfortable quarters with real beds. Full amenities. A common area with leather seating and ambient lighting. The kind of vessel that cost half a billion dollars or more.Theodore stood in the common area, waiting as the team was brought down the ladder.“Welcome. Make yourselves comfortable.”Julie was rushed immediately to the medical bay. Dr. Sato—Japanese, fifties, credentials visible on the wall that would impress any hospital board—began treatment without delay. IV lines. Antibiotics. Professional. Efficient.The rest of the team was shown to individual cabins. Actual privacy. Comfortable beds. The first real comfort in weeks.Theodore addressed them in the corridor. “You’re free to move about the ship. Only three areas are restricted: engine room, armory, and my personal quarters. For safety, not secrecy.”Kai s

The countdown hit zero.Theodore’s satellite network hijacked major channels. Illegal. But effective. For four minutes, Kai Cross would reach two billion people.Red light. Live.Kai faced the camera. Exhausted. Determined. The weight of thousands of lives in his words.“My name is Kai Cross. Three weeks ago, I leaked the Consortium files. Exposed twelve people controlling global chaos. Governments. Wars. Economic collapses. All orchestrated.”He paused. Let that sink in.“The Consortium is now targeting everyone who published those files. Journalists. Editors. Anyone who knew their secrets.”The screen split. Kai on one side. Surveillance footage on the other.“Attacks are happening now. CNN evacuated. BBC burning. Al Jazeera bombed. This is not coincidence. This is retaliation.”The footage showed men in maintenance uniforms. New York Times building basement. Planting C4 charges. Professional. Methodical. Time stamp: three hours ago.“These are the next targets.”Kai listed them. Cl