would think so.”
Silence came over them for a moment as each man stared forward, some at their glasses, some ahead. It was Vincent who broke the silence with a sigh. “The captain isn’t going to stop until Remington is dead. He’s determined to be a part of the process, whether the Council want him or not.”
In Torokin’s mind, that wasn’t even a question. He knew Klaus—and the relationship that Klaus had had with his son, Strom. They weren’t close. Strom had been born under a shadow from which no child could have escaped. There was a lot of pent-up emotion between the two, despite being father and son. Klaus had always kept himself distant from Strom in an effort to protect him. Strom always resented it. Despite Klaus’s best efforts, his worst fear had come to pass: that his son was killed in the line of duty. There was no question in Torokin’s mind that Klaus would go after the people—or the man—responsible. Setting down his empty glass on the coffee table, Torokin said, “It is inevitable that Klaus contacts Todd.”
“What makes you think he hasn’t already?” asked Vincent, the Briton eyeing Torokin indicatively. “Todd’s not a part of EDEN anymore. The captain doesn’t need EDEN’s permission to ask a friend to do a favor.”
Todd Kenner: the black sheep of Vector. A man whose ability demanded a new scout classification: Type 3, both tactical combat and observations. A man whose deviant behavior, culminating with the accusation that he’d forced himself upon a woman while on a mission, had forced EDEN’s hand in removing him. It didn’t matter that the charges had been dropped—the thought of having someone accused of such a thing among EDEN’s elite was just too much for the organization to handle. It was telling that no one in Vector, with the exception of Klaus himself, stood up for Kenner during the trial and after his release. Despite whatever feelings Todd must have harbored against his former brethren in Vector Squad, there was no question that he must have appreciated Klaus’s loyalty. Todd would help him in a heartbeat.
Todd was bad news. But was he worse than Scott Remington? The acts Scott had done couldn’t be denied. He wasn’t an accused traitor. He was a public one. Could Remington’s wickedness justify enlisting the aid of a man like Todd Kenner? Part of Torokin felt it just might.
“What do you guys think made Remington turn like this?” Sasha asked.
It was the million-dollar question. How could a Golden Lion turn into a vile instrument of Ignatius van Thoor? Torokin remembered Remington’s press conference after the Battle of Chicago . At the time, the soldier seemed more than the hero of a particular battle—he seemed an ideal, an image of selfless service and courage for young soldiers to emulate. Then, he disappeared to Novosibirsk . What had happened between Chicago and now?
“The promise of power can affect anyone,” Lena said in response to Sasha’s question. “I’d imagine that promises by Thoor led Remington to do what he did, to become what he became.”
As the others spoke on, the press conference continued to drift through Torokin’s mind. The more the Russian judge thought upon it, the more something seemed off. Though he did remember the gist of the press conference, as well as the favorable impression it made for EDEN, some of the finer details were lost in his memory. He wanted to see it again. Rising from his chair, he stepped past his counterparts toward the monitor on his wall.
Eyeing him curiously, Grinkov asked, “What are you doing, Leonid?”
“I want to see…” answered Torokin, allowing the latter half of the statement to trail off. As the others watched, he accessed EDEN’s databanks, backtracking to the Battle of Chicago then sifting through its media files. After a short search, he found Remington’s press conference. Pressing play, he slipped his hands in his pockets and took a step back.
“Good morning
Silence came over them for a moment as each man stared forward, some at their glasses, some ahead. It was Vincent who broke the silence with a sigh. “The captain isn’t going to stop until Remington is dead. He’s determined to be a part of the process, whether the Council want him or not.”
In Torokin’s mind, that wasn’t even a question. He knew Klaus—and the relationship that Klaus had had with his son, Strom. They weren’t close. Strom had been born under a shadow from which no child could have escaped. There was a lot of pent-up emotion between the two, despite being father and son. Klaus had always kept himself distant from Strom in an effort to protect him. Strom always resented it. Despite Klaus’s best efforts, his worst fear had come to pass: that his son was killed in the line of duty. There was no question in Torokin’s mind that Klaus would go after the people—or the man—responsible. Setting down his empty glass on the coffee table, Torokin said, “It is inevitable that Klaus contacts Todd.”
“What makes you think he hasn’t already?” asked Vincent, the Briton eyeing Torokin indicatively. “Todd’s not a part of EDEN anymore. The captain doesn’t need EDEN’s permission to ask a friend to do a favor.”
Todd Kenner: the black sheep of Vector. A man whose ability demanded a new scout classification: Type 3, both tactical combat and observations. A man whose deviant behavior, culminating with the accusation that he’d forced himself upon a woman while on a mission, had forced EDEN’s hand in removing him. It didn’t matter that the charges had been dropped—the thought of having someone accused of such a thing among EDEN’s elite was just too much for the organization to handle. It was telling that no one in Vector, with the exception of Klaus himself, stood up for Kenner during the trial and after his release. Despite whatever feelings Todd must have harbored against his former brethren in Vector Squad, there was no question that he must have appreciated Klaus’s loyalty. Todd would help him in a heartbeat.
Todd was bad news. But was he worse than Scott Remington? The acts Scott had done couldn’t be denied. He wasn’t an accused traitor. He was a public one. Could Remington’s wickedness justify enlisting the aid of a man like Todd Kenner? Part of Torokin felt it just might.
“What do you guys think made Remington turn like this?” Sasha asked.
It was the million-dollar question. How could a Golden Lion turn into a vile instrument of Ignatius van Thoor? Torokin remembered Remington’s press conference after the Battle of Chicago . At the time, the soldier seemed more than the hero of a particular battle—he seemed an ideal, an image of selfless service and courage for young soldiers to emulate. Then, he disappeared to Novosibirsk . What had happened between Chicago and now?
“The promise of power can affect anyone,” Lena said in response to Sasha’s question. “I’d imagine that promises by Thoor led Remington to do what he did, to become what he became.”
As the others spoke on, the press conference continued to drift through Torokin’s mind. The more the Russian judge thought upon it, the more something seemed off. Though he did remember the gist of the press conference, as well as the favorable impression it made for EDEN, some of the finer details were lost in his memory. He wanted to see it again. Rising from his chair, he stepped past his counterparts toward the monitor on his wall.
Eyeing him curiously, Grinkov asked, “What are you doing, Leonid?”
“I want to see…” answered Torokin, allowing the latter half of the statement to trail off. As the others watched, he accessed EDEN’s databanks, backtracking to the Battle of Chicago then sifting through its media files. After a short search, he found Remington’s press conference. Pressing play, he slipped his hands in his pockets and took a step back.
“Good morning
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