-[Notification: JFK International Airport -> WAS Ronald Reagan National Airport, one-way reservation confird]-
"I think you might be the only one who ca to Arica for a tournant and ended up going to the nation's capital, Eugene."
"I’m starting to feel that way myself."
-??? Where is she going now LOL
-Is this where she reveals she’s got a whole stash of secrets hidden in that tail of hers? LOL
-These guys are so bold even after seeing her real form now LOL
-The fact that she just admits it casually is what kills though LOL
Six hours. That was all the ti it took for my first—or maybe second—Arican trip to turn into an unexpected business trip. I hadn’t explicitly shared my destination with Dice, Harmony, or the rest of the team, but they seed to have guessed it. Not that I minded; it was actually a bit more convenient for that way.
"I wonder if there are any souvenirs worth picking up from D.C.?"
"Maybe I should bring back a wooden gavel from Congress."
"Ugh, no thanks."
-Does she even have a standard for what counts as a souvenir? LOL
-"Souvenirs" are not trophies you get from busting heads open, OMG LOL
-She really just does the most random things LOL
As soon as I started the stream, the chat was already erupting. With so many distractions, I decided to deploy the drone cam to give a quick tour. The cara floated through the room where I was staying with Dice and Harmony, a space that felt more like an executive office suite than a hotel room. It was sleek and high-end, the kind of room that felt more designed for photo ops than actual living.
The drone moved around, showing off the spacious room and its view. Outside, New York’s skyscrapers obscured Central Park, leaving only a slice of the famous skyline visible.
-"Whoa, is that a view of New York? I can barely see Central Park."
-"That building has got to go, it’s blocking the view LOL"
-"Dang, that bathroom is huge!!!"
"This is the bathroom. It’s even got a rainfall shower—pretty cool, right?"
"Eugene, maybe hotel review videos aren’t your thing."
-Do you think we’re caven or sothing? LOL
-Wow, such wonder LOL
-Can we get a mont of appreciation for the weird comnts she always makes LOL
-Dice with the savage roast LOL
I couldn’t understand why so many people were taking jabs at my observations. The bathroom was neat and tidy, sure, but it didn’t feel particularly luxurious. Still, the view from the tub was impressive, with a full Central Park skyline visible through the window. Eventually, I’d show the viewers more, like the multi-purpose room and dining areas downstairs.
"There’s not much ti left before we have to head out, so maybe I’ll give you a quick tour of the fitness club."
The fitness club was clean and stylish, with a sprawling view of the snowy New York skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Multiple treadmills lined up in front of the glass, offering a beautiful backdrop of the city.
I glanced around. There was no one else here, which ant I could do so exercises in peace before dinner. And, based on the chat’s reaction, I might as well start with so heavy lifting.
-Hotdeok managed to pull a 1200 lbs lift recently. What’s your max, Eugene?
"Let’s see… I never really maxed out seriously, but I think the last ti I tried, I got up to around 2200 lbs for the big three lifts."
-???
-Excuse ???
-Did she just say 2200 lbs?!!!
-WTF LOL
And yes, I was being completely serious. People often misunderstood my capabilities, and it didn’t help that even those who knew well had certain misconceptions. My previous record of 2200 lbs was sothing I reached casually, in between missions, without a trainer. In truth, I didn’t even know my real max yet. Logan’s was around 3600 lbs.
"Alright, let’s do this."
Later that day, I found myself in the hotel lobby, settling the bill for a damaged equipnt rack I’d accidentally bent during a lift. The damage happened as I was deadlifting 750 kg, much to the astonishnt of the hotel staff.
"Hello, do you have a reservation?"
"Yes, under the na TFD, for four people in the Panic Room."
"...Confird. We’re conducting a quick CCTV check, so please wait in the hall."
The staff mber’s tone shifted from courteous to firm as they escorted us down a corridor, leading us to a discreet entrance that opened into a side path. We followed the dimly lit hallway until it opened into a brightly lit room, a hidden space within the restaurant, with a table set for five.
Waiting there was soone we all recognized.
"Co in. It’s cold out there."
"I didn’t expect you to enjoy hidden spots like these, Mr. Future President. Secret rooms might affect your approval ratings."
"Haha, spoken like true rescue operatives who’ve braved gunfire."
Despite the room’s secrecy, the mood was far from tense. The conversation quickly beca lively, with Henry, the man soon to be president, directing most of his attention towards .
"Henry Brayton, Mr. President."
"Eugene. Sergeant Eugene Lee."
A heavy silence lingered for a mont, then Henry broke into a hearty laugh.
"Ha! Finally, we et, Eugene!"
"Uh, yes, I suppose we do."
"If I had ti, I’d show you my remaining battle scars, but unfortunately, they’ve all faded. Sit, sit."
The initial tension eased as we chatted, mostly thanks to Henry’s easy-going deanor and genuine friendliness. Ti passed quickly, and soon we were into the dinner, with Henry casually revealing that he’d ordered extra-large portions to accommodate our appetites.
As a knock at the door announced the arrival of our first course, Henry leaned in with a mischievous smile. "Before we dig in, I have a little request to make."
"Of course."
"Then, let’s get started."
The server brought in dishes of salmon tartare, followed by various appetizers, each paired with a different wine. The surroundings dimd as variable-transparency glass revealed a view of the city outside. Columbus Circle, blanketed in snow, was visible below.
"You’ll be able to see outside, but the reverse is not true," the server inford us. "Enjoy your dinner."
With the view of New York in front of us, the conversation resud, blending light-hearted banter with occasional reflections on the past. The courses flowed, each more extravagant than the last. Between bites of oyster caviar and coconut squash soup, we spoke of missions and mories, each plate serving as a reminder of both battles fought and friends lost.
When the final course arrived, Henry grew solemn. With a quiet cough, he addressed us. "I need to ask for a favor. Do you mind?"
"Not at all."
"Thank you."
He cleared his throat, and then, as he began to speak, a light blazed within the room.
"Ergency code activation: FTPOUSA-01-CB-NEE, authorized by Henry Michael Brayton."
A holographic screen projected from my wrist, flashing red before settling into a soft green as my device recognized the code.
-[Notification: Code received // Biotric scan confird // Ergency code authenticated. Welco, President Henry Michael Brayton.]-
"Hold on, Henry! What are you—"
"It’s ti to bring closure to the work we started, with the Task Force Dagger and the Pentagon. Icarus, prepare a digital certificate for a dal of Honor."
-[Acknowledgnt: Request approved.]-
At that mont, the last unopened dish revealed an ornate box.
M, O, and H—dal of Honor.
My eyes widened, realizing what was about to happen.
"Now seems like the perfect mont. Let’s begin."
As the box opened, revealing a single, distinguished dal, Henry’s voice filled the room.
"I hereby comnce the dal of Honor ceremony."
For a mont, it felt as if ti stood still, and the weight of history pressed down on . This was a mont I’d never anticipated, and it was more than I could have imagined.
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