Grandpa was right—the whole town was going to the assembly. They walked down the street and it was full of people. Daniel saw people he hadn’t seen for months—men and women that must have been just hiding in their houses. Everyone was walking to the Fortress: women carrying babies, little kids running this way and that, Daniel’s schoolmates, and veterans.

When they finally got to the Assembly Hall after wading through the crowds, Daniel saw Len sitting on a bleacher watching the videos playing on a large screen. The room was still pretty chaotic but there was a lectern and next to it some security men watching a few technicians attaching a microphone. Next to the lectern were two rows of chairs. The hall was only partially darkened but full of noise and conversations. Just above the din, the movie could be heard. Inspirational music played, accompanied by a voiceover:

“And as always, Commander Freedom lead the brave Champions in the battle against Doctor Kilraven. Their bravery matched only by their resolve to defeat the enemies of justice.”

A montage of heroes accompanied the bombast; the colorfully clad super soldiers flew across the screen delivering crushing blows to the army of Doctor Kill and his robot hordes.

“It’s the kiddie version,“ Len said, seeing Daniel coming.

“Remember? We saw it in kindergarten. There are a lot of little kids here today—and old people, too. You know. They don’t want to shock anybody.”

“Oh yeah,” Daniel said, relieved to see his friend but also wary.

“Did your grandpa come?”

“Yeah—he’s sitting with the vets,” said Daniel, trying to get a read on Len’s attitude.

On the screen, Commander Freedom leapt from an explosion to save a fellow soldier from being shot. The soldier looked up at the superhero.

“Thank you, Commander Freedom!” the soldier shouted.

“No—thank you, soldier— for your bravery and sacrifice,” he answered. And then he looked directly at the camera. “And thank you, young warriors, for your support. Remember: we’re all in this together. Forever!”

Daniel could hear the second graders cheering in the stands.

“Forever!” Len said, only half-mocking. “That was great,” he followed, with a slightly forced sincerity in case anyone was listening.

“Yeah,” Daniel echoed. “So, Len—?“

“Yeah?”

“Did anyone say anything—?”

“About yesterday?”

“Uh—yeah, “ Daniel said trying not to look too concerned.

“Yeah… my parents were pretty pissed.”

“You told your parents?”

“Yeah.”

“Why—? What did they say?”

“My dad said we shouldn’t hang out anymore. He said you’re a bad influence.”

“Dude—it was your idea!”

“No—it wasn’t. It was Shawn’s idea!”

“So why’d you blame me, you dick!”

“I didn’t blame you. My dad said you and Shawn are bad influences.”

“Oh. Still… you could have told him that it was Shawn’s idea. Not mine!”

“Yeah… well, my dad was just pissed. He wasn’t exactly listening to me or anything. He was just pissed.”

“Still.”

Silence.

“Is he going to say anything?” Daniel had to ask.

“Well, he talked to Mr. Trotter this morning.”

“What? Already? He already talked to him?”

“Yeah.”

“What did he say?”

“He said he was going to tell Mr. Trotter it wasn’t my idea. That you and Shawn wanted to skip class.”

“Jeez, dude—you are lame.”

“Screw you. My dad says maybe we can help. ‘Cause we saw something.”

“What?”

“Yeah—‘cause we saw the crash up close. You know—maybe we can help with the investigation. Figure out what happened. Dad thinks we might have some information.”

“What? What information? We don’t know anything, Len. We don’t know anything!”

“Well, I don’t know. Maybe we know something.”

“Jeez!” Daniel shouted. “You’re an idiot, Len! An idiot!”

Daniel stomped away into the crowd. He could not believe this. He thought he had a chance but now there would be no way to avoid talking about what he saw. Len was smart—definitely smart enough to be a Junior Guard and probably would be if he wasn’t so damn weak but man, was he stupid, thought Daniel.

The voiceover continued:

“… remember that fateful day when Commander Freedom accompanied Dr. Martin Kilraven to investigate strange lights in the Mojave Desert. Imagine their surprise to discover an alien being. Today, you and I know him as Quadju, the Supreme. But then he was an unknown threat so the Commander approached with extreme caution...”

As Daniel waded back into the crowd he suddenly realized just how many people there were in the gymnasium. The last time he had seen it so packed was Savior’s Day. And even then, it seemed less chaotic. More reverential. Solemn. But today, the faces were filled with fear and dread. He scanned the crowd and he saw Mr. Trotter’s very recognizable bald, round head, and mustache. He did not want to talk to Mr. Trotter. He realized he needed to sit down. He headed back to that idiot Len.

“Move over, “ he said and took a seat.

The voiceover continued:

“In appreciation for their help in repairing his spacecraft and rescuing him from the attacks of the earth army, Quadju gifted Commander Freedom and Dr. Kilraven with amazing technology from beyond the stars...”

They sat in silence for a long time and not even the constant din of the crowd distracted them from their icy attitude. But this was nothing new—they had been friends forever. They grew up in the Territory together, had gone to school since they were babies, and now at the ripe old age of thirteen, they knew each other well enough to know that they just had to wait this ice out and let it melt. One of them would break down and apologize or just lose interest. It was a matter of time. They were both prepared to wait.

“Who knew that this power would corrupt Dr. Kilraven?” the announcer bellowed. “And that he would use it for evil? But when evil rears its head, Commander Freedom is on the scene!”

The screen flashed brightly—an explosive montage of stars and explosions.

“Since the beginning of the War, citizens have united against the threat of Doctor Kill,” a new voice declared as another movie started up. “In a ceaseless fight against our enemies, each citizen contributes to the Cause as they are able. Strong-bodied men and women volunteer to join the Alliance, risking life and limb in the service of our people. The elderly bring their age and wisdom to the fight. Some, like Grandma Betsy here bake cookies for the troops…”

“It’s a third-grader movie,” Len said, unable to stop himself.

“Hmmpf,” Daniel grunted with a little bit of triumph. He had lasted the longest at the silence game.

“Even the very young can help. Quincy here, he’s in the third- grade…” the jovial narrator explained.

“See—told you,” Len expressed his own bit of triumph.

“And Quincy has a project: he’s collecting cans to help with the War Effort. Everyday, Quincy takes his little wagon to collect cans from the citizens of the territory. Why? Good question…” the narrator continued.

“When is this damn thing going to start?” Daniel grumbled.

“Daniel Cotton!” a voice boomed behind him. Daniel sat straight up and turned.

Mr. Trotter was approaching. He had seen him. There was no escape.

“Daniel Cotton! You, son, are in a heap of trouble.”

Daniel felt the blood rushing to his face.

“After the assembly, you will meet me at Classroom C12. C12! Do you hear me?”

“C12—yes, sir. C12,” Daniel repeated.

“Good, the Guard has some questions for you. You too, Leonardo! C12!” Mr. Trotter barked out one last time before heading up into the bleachers. “Do not miss it and do not be late! Right after the assembly, boys!”

“The Guard? Has questions for us? Len—you are an a-hole!” Daniel said.

“No matter how young or old, everyone can contribute to the Cause,” the narrator concluded as the film faded out and the lights of the gymnasium fully dimmed.

A mournful trumpet announced itself. It carried a sorrowful note and the crowd fell into an uneasy silence.

“Citizens,” a new, unfamiliar voice boomed. “A great tragedy has occurred. Here. In your territory. An assault against our Alliance. Against our unity. Against our very core.”

The darkness was illuminated by an image of a F650 hover-car flying across the horizon. Daniel’s eyes widened seeing the hover-car. It began to go into slow-motion. A small burst of flame popped out from the window. Then an explosion slowly spilled out like a mushroom. Pieces of hover-car began to separate and disintegrate into the explosion. The image faded to black.

“Yesterday,” the voice continued, “a terrorist attack was carried out against one of our F-650 hover-cars. These are the pride of our fleet. They are the most lethal of our fighting forces. Our premier fighting teams in our crusade against Doctor Kill. And that is why they are reserved for our fiercest fighters, the members of the Champions.”

A single spotlight filled the darkness. Into it walked a costumed figure. She was wearing a red mask and cape.

“Omigod, it’s a Champion,” Len whispered.

Daniel had never heard of a Champion actually coming to the Fifth Territory.

“Citizens, you know me as Agent Striker, the Masked Fury,” she said.

Images of Agent Striker and her partner, Ultra appeared on the screen.

“I am here in pursuit of an escaped criminal- an enemy of the Alliance. This man—Aaron Godfrey—was once known in his Champion identity as Crusher.”

A sense of shock rippled through the crowd. It was an Unmasking. The worst thing that could happen to a Champion was to have his or her identity revealed. It was a shameful humiliation. And the entire auditorium was filled with the surprise.

“Aaron grew up in Territory Five. He had done well in school and sports, and became a Junior Guardsman. And he graduated to the Armed Forces where he continued to excel. After standard genetic testing, it was determined he was an ideal candidate for transformation. He became Crusher. You may know of him. He was a Champion of the East. He fought for the Alliance. He fought bravely and fiercely… for a time.”

She stopped for a moment to look out over the crowd who were rapt.

“But something happened,” she continued. “Somehow he became corrupted. Somehow he was changed and lost the will to fight for the Alliance. Soon it was discovered that he was in fact supplying Doctor Kill with information—important war data that led to the deaths of a squadron of noble soldiers.”

“Their loss was mourned. Their sacrifice remembered,” Agent Striker said, pausing to honor the soldiers once more. “And the strategists were confounded. They could not understand how an operation of utmost secrecy had gone so horribly wrong. We did not know that we had been compromised by one of our own. But Crusher had grown careless and his thoughts literally betrayed him. A teammate- a telepath- learned of his treachery and acted to subdue and capture him. Crusher killed him and escaped.”

Daniel leaned forward in his seat. Perhaps Crusher had escaped in the F-650. Maybe he had killed the traitor. Maybe he would be congratulated.

“My partner, Ultra—“ she stopped for a moment but recovered. “He pursued Crusher—he followed him through three of the five Territories, each time getting closer to capturing him. Each day Ultra grew closer and closer to finding the traitor. And the trail led him here to the Fifth Territory—Aaron’s home and yours. “

“Yesterday, an F-650 was blown out of the sky. It is with deep sadness that I tell you that aboard that hover-car was my partner—“ Lady Striker stopped again.

The room was filled with gasps and cries and then a silence that was only pierced by sobbing. Daniel’s heart sank to his feet. This could not be happening.

“My partner- the warrior and Champion, Ultra, “ she continued.

The screen filled with other images of Ultra: a young superhero smashing the heads of Kill’s forces in combat; a fierce man wearing a mask and leaping into the night atop dizzying heights; a smiling companion to a younger Agent Striker.

“Yesterday, I arrived here and picked up the trail. Following my mentor’s lead, I found and apprehended Crusher. He is now in our custody. But his capture came at a great loss.”

Again, the entire room was silent.

“This is not the day to memorialize Ultra. That day will come and we will sing of his sacrifice and bravery. No, today we must unite. We need your eyes and ears. We need your knowledge. We must learn all that we can about Crusher—about Aaron Godfrey. Why he rebelled. Why he came here. How he was able to kill my partner. There is no bit of information too small. No story about him that we do not want to know. We are asking your help in assembling this web of information. What you do here will help us prevent another tragedy of this magnitude. Do not let Ultra’s death be in vain. Thank you and may the Saviors watch over you.”

Agent Striker turned and walked out in the shadows. The lights slowly illuminated the room and almost immediately the crowd started talking in excitement. Daniel sat silent and afraid. I killed Ultra, he repeated again and again in his mind. I killed Ultra.

“Dan, get up—we gotta go to room C-12,” Len jostled him.

“Aw shit,” Daniel remembered.

“Come on,” Len said as he was already up and walking.

But Daniel could not move. His feet were lead. He could not get off the chair. Fear gripped and overwhelmed him. He had killed Ultra. And he was as good as dead. He would have cried but he felt empty.

“Dan—we gotta go or we’re toast,” Len insisted, yanking at Dan’s arm.

“Okay, okay. Fine!” Dan shouted back, getting the feeling for walking again. “Fine! But I gotta find my grandpa! I need my grandpa!”

And he truly did. He truly, truly needed his grandfather. He seemed the only hope. He needed his grandpa to come along and maybe he could figure out how to get out of this. He followed Len into the crowd, still being dragged by the boy’s insistent tug.