The Fighter - A Maxerica The Selection Fanfiction

The Den

I close my eyes. I couldn't bare the sight that laid before me. The long driveway leading to the circular fountain and the steps to the massive doors of the palace are littered with the dead bodies of soldiers who died heroically in the face of their enemies and the cowardly bastards and ruthless murderers who clearly are part of the Southern Rebels. The palace's once neatly-kept shrubbery all strewn about as if a hurricane went through it. Grief and overbearing sadness and loss cling to the air weighing me and the rest of my team down.

I have seen firsthand what these rebels were capable of doing, but to witness at a place that held the person I love lit the anger inside of me. I open my eyes with newfound determination to eliminate this faction. They were not allowed to exist in this world anymore and I will die with the mission to eradicate them once and for all.

"Liam, Sam and Alicia, conduct a severe perimeter check. Take three of the agents from the other SUV to take with you. Make sure to check even the forest. I have learned in the past that they can use that as an escape. And if you see even a leg twitch arrest them. I want them held as captive for now. Also, check for any survivors and rush them to the hospital wing. Move," I delegate my tasks and watch them execute, running in a neat formation towards the side of the palace.

"Jake, take the rest of the agents and conduct the same in the palace. Cover every room and every corridor. Be efficient, be thorough and be fast. We need to regain security, first and foremost. We can't give the rebels a chance for a second attack so early in the game. James and I will be searching for any survivors in the palace and also establish a head count of the royal family. Communication is limited. Stay off your comms unless absolutely necessary. Am I clear?"

I hear the grunt of approval from Jake's team in front of me and Liam's in my ear piece. I nod to signal their release. The team silently jogs towards the palace and I draw my gun from its holster. James and I share a look. I'm ready.

But am I? Deep down I knew I wasn't truly, but I need to do this. I need to make sure he is all right. Oh, God, Maxon. I'm sorry I failed to keep my promise. I failed to keep you safe. I hope to god you're ok somewhere in here. I love...

I stop the thought from reaching its end. No. America loves him. America is dead and she will stay dead. I am Scarlet, cold and detached. Cold and detached.

We enter the massive foyer of the palace. Broken glass, shattered mirrors, tattered paintings, collapsed chandelier. The once pristine place glittered no more. Instead on its wake, is massive destruction and massacre. They clearly weren't prepared. It has been a while since the last. My agency kept the rebels pretty far away from Angeles, intercepting their unorganized packs before ever reaching its destination. One must have slipped past us. I make a mental note to chastise myself for my neglect later. Right now, there were more important things to do.

The blood of the noble servants and guards stains the carpet. As I look, the sickness I feel in my stomach grows. I have accumulated an iron stomach throughout my years as a field agent but the unfathomable sight before my eyes threatens the bile in my throat to spill. I hold it in. I have to be strong. I have to get this place locked if they are going to survive.

"Scarlet, can you hear me?" James says.

With the thoughts running through my head, I must have missed his voice. "Hmm?"

"We need to check for survivors and find the royal family," he reminds me.

"Right," I nod and internally scold myself, think, Amer-, Scarlet! Dammit! This place!

James and I silently traverse through the many rooms and corridors. No sign of life in any of the rooms. "James, all the survivors must have gone to the safe rooms."