I fight back the urge to rush up the steps and try to kill him, reminding myself that none of this is real. And anyway, even if it was, I wouldn’t stand a chance. An entire army of Mogadorians stands between me and Setrákus Ra.

The crowd parts to let the military truck I saw before pull up to the Lincoln Memorial’s steps. The back of the truck is open and I can see two prisoners huddled inside, their heads down and hands shackled. There’s something familiar about them.

Setrákus Ra stands up when the truck parks. A hush falls across the crowd.

“Bring them forward,” he shouts.

A stout Mogadorian warrior steps out of the ranks. He’s not like the others; he’s not so pale and the dark tattoos across his scalp seem almost new. He wears a patch over one eye and his working eye isn’t the soulless black of a Mogadorian. I take an involuntary step backwards as I realize that I’m not looking at a Mogadorian at all.

It’s Five. What the hell is going on here? Why is he wearing their uniform?

Five leads the first prisoner down from the back of the truck. He’s a little older and there’s a long scar running horizontal across his nose and cheeks, but I still immediately recognize Sam. He keeps his head down, not making eye contact with Five, looking haunted and defeated. I notice Sam has a bad limp that becomes all the more apparent when he’s forced to climb the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. He stumbles, almost falls, and some of the Mogadorian onlookers chuckle at the humiliating display. I feel rage bubbling up inside me and have to take a deep breath as I feel my Lumen starting to activate.

The second prisoner doesn’t go as meekly as Sam. Even with her hands and feet shackled, Six stands tall. Her blond hair has been shorn into boyish spikes and her face is contorted into a perpetual mask of anger, yet she’s still strikingly beautiful. She sweeps her eyes across the crowd of humans and many of them look down in response, ashamed. Five says something to her that I can’t hear, but his soft features are almost apologetic. In response, Six spits in his face. As Five wipes the spit off his cheek, a group of Mogadorian guards grab Six and drag her up the steps. She’s a fighter until the very end.

Six and Sam are made to kneel before Setrákus Ra. He glowers at them for a moment, then turns to address the crowd.

“Behold,” he shouts, his voice carrying above the silent masses. “The last of the Loric resistance! Today our society celebrates a great victory over those who would stand in the way of Mogadorian progress.”

The Mogs all cheer. The humans stay quiet.