Page 126 of Critical Mass
“Why?” The question burst out of Hudson. “Why fake your own death? Why work with Sigma? Why betray everything we stood for?”
Brass laughed, but it was bitter and broken. “Everything we stood for? Hudson, do you even hear yourself? We stood for a lie. A system that used us up and threw us away.”
“How did you survive that helicopter crash?”
“The Russian mob found me. Pulled me out.” Brass’s laugh was humorless. “Ironic, isn’t it? The people we were supposed to be fighting against saved my life. It took me six months to recover. Another year of physical therapy before I could walk without assistance.” Brass’s hand moved to his chest, almostunconsciously. “The nerve damage never fully healed. I still can’t feel my left hand properly.”
Hudson lowered his rifle slightly, grief and guilt warring in his chest. “Brass, I’m sorry that happened to you. We didn’t know.”
“I had to ask myself—what was the point?” Brass’s voice hardened. “We risked our lives, sacrificed everything, and for what? To protect a country that wouldn’t even acknowledge our existence? To die anonymously in some foreign market while politicians took credit for our victories?”
“So you founded Sigma,” Hudson said, the pieces finally clicking together. “This whole thing—the bombs, the hurricane, the power grid, all of it—you’ve been orchestrating everything from the beginning.”
Nausea roiled in his gut at the thought.
CHAPTER
SEVENTY-ONE
“Not started. Took over.”Brass smiled coldly. “There was already a framework in place. Former operatives, disillusioned government officials, people who’d seen the system from the inside and realized it was rotten. I just gave them direction. Purpose.”
“Purpose?” Hudson’s voice rose despite himself. “You call mass murder purpose?”
“I call it accountability.” Brass stepped closer, and Hudson tensed. “How many innocent people has our government killed with drone strikes? How many civilians died because of ‘acceptable collateral damage’? How many families were destroyed because we decided their lives mattered less than our strategic objectives?”
“That’s not the same?—”
“Isn’t it?” Brass’s eyes blazed with conviction now. “The only difference is we wear a flag while we do it. We tell ourselves we’re the good guys while we rain death from the sky. At least I’m honest about what I’m doing.”
“You’re killing innocent people.” Hudson forced his voice to stay level. “People who had nothing to do with what happened to you in Ankara. Children. Families. How is that justice?”
“It’s not justice. It’s revolution.” Brass’s jaw tightened. “The system won’t change unless it’s forced to. Unless the people in power finally face consequences for their actions. Those ‘innocent people’ you’re so worried about? They vote for the politicians who send us to die. They benefit from the economy our military protects. They’re complicit, even if they don’t realize it.”
“That’s insane.”
“Is it?” Brass challenged. “Or is it just inconvenient? We’ve been at war for decades, Hudson. How many of those people you want to save have ever sacrificed anything? Ever lost sleep worrying about the operatives dying in their name? They watch the news for five minutes, say ‘that’s terrible,’ then go back to their comfortable lives.”
Hudson stared at his former teammate—this man he’d served with, trusted, mourned—and saw the moment everything had broken inside him. Ankara hadn’t just damaged Brass’s body. It had shattered something fundamental in his soul.
“You’re wrong,” Hudson said quietly. “About all of it. Yes, the system is flawed. Yes, we’ve been asked to make impossible choices. But the answer isn’t to become the monsters we spent our lives fighting. It’s to be better. To hold ourselves to a higher standard.”
“Higher standard?” Brass laughed again, that broken sound that made Hudson’s chest ache. “How many times did we pull the trigger knowing innocents might die, telling ourselves it was for the greater good?”
“We tried to minimize casualties?—”
“But you didn’t eliminate them. None of us did. We just learned to live with the guilt.” Brass’s hand moved toward his jacket. “I’m done living with guilt, Hudson. I’m done pretending we’re heroes when we’re just killers with better PR.”
“Don’t.” Hudson raised his rifle again. “Whatever you’re reaching for, don’t.”
“Or what? You’ll shoot me?” Something like satisfaction crossed Brass’s face. “Go ahead. Prove my point. Show me how the ‘good guys’ really operate.”
“I don’t want to shoot you. I want you to surrender. Come in, face trial, tell your story. If you really believe the system is broken, stand up and say it publicly. That’s how you create change—not by killing people.”
“You really believe that?” Brass asked, and for a moment he sounded almost sad. “After everything we’ve seen, everything we’ve done, you still believe the system can be fixed from the inside?”
“I have to believe it,” Hudson said. “Because the alternative is becoming exactly what you’ve become. And I won’t do that. I refuse to.”
They stood there in the growing darkness, two men who’d once fought side by side now on opposite sides of an unbridgeable divide.
