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Reverent: Six - 23. Fall of the First Wall
The morning after the strike on VIREX’s Carpathian node, the base remained eerily quiet. Quinn’s lab screens glowed with data feeds, media reactions, and security threads—one after another lighting up in real time. The footage had gone viral.
Leaked images of human experimentation. Cryotubes filled with malformed subjects. Signed authorizations. Transfers routed through long-dead shell companies with real names attached. VIREX had gone too far, and now the world knew it.
Yet, not everyone believed it.
Which is why Sylvie stood now before the General Assembly of the United Nations in Geneva, her palms flat on the podium, breath steady despite the simmering outrage beneath her ribs.
Cameras clicked. Delegates murmured. Dissent brewed visibly across the chamber like a weather front.
“…and these aren’t just theories,” she said into the mic. “I’ve submitted classified logs, biomedical scans, and the extracted research drives to this council. Pages upon pages detailing what VIREX has done—hybridization attempts, forced augmentation, and even fetal growth acceleration experiments. This isn’t fiction. It’s fact. And I lived through it.”
Someone from the back row scoffed audibly.
Sylvie ignored it. She clicked the remote in her hand. The main screen shifted to live footage: scorched labs, broken pods, the fractured remains of a failed enhancement subject.
“This was taken 36 hours ago by our team. This wasn’t thirty years ago, or even ten. This is now. In 2025.”
A delegate from a powerful Eurasian bloc stood. “You expect us to believe a rogue militia’s video feed over our own intelligence networks?”
Sylvie smiled thinly. “No, Minister Novak. I expect you to believe your own dead. Sixteen of your nationals were found in VIREX’s files as unauthorized donors. I believe some of their families are here today.”
Gasps echoed. A small stir rippled through the seating.
Another hand rose—an African alliance chair. “Who authorized your strike? By what jurisdiction did you engage?”
“By none,” Sylvie said calmly. “Because justice delayed has killed too many. The Reverent Six aren’t here to ask permission to stop monsters. We’re here because too many people in power turned a blind eye.”
Her voice wavered—but only from force. “My father tried to stop VIREX when I was a teenager. He was a civil data officer. They disappeared him within a month. I spent years as a private investigator just trying to prove he’d ever existed. Do you know what it’s like to find your dad in an autopsy file with no date and no fingerprints?”
The chamber fell silent.
“I joined the Six because I had nowhere else to go. Because they listened. Because they were the only ones willing to act.”
A military representative from East Asia stood abruptly. “Are you implying that our own military forces are incapable of handling threats like these?”
“I’m stating it outright,” Sylvie replied. “If your forces had handled it, we wouldn’t have found fourteen of your civilians buried in experimental tubes. This isn’t a matter of capability—it’s a matter of will. And unfortunately, your will was missing.”
A Western diplomat raised his voice. “You speak of unilateral action like it's a virtue. You brought war into sovereign territory.”
“Yes,” Sylvie said. “And we ended something that was murdering people inside your borders. I didn’t see your jets in the sky.”
An Eastern European delegate stood. “Let’s not forget that we now possess hard evidence. Sylvie and the Six didn’t merely act—they recorded, retrieved, and preserved critical data. Data that many of us would never have seen otherwise.”
A South American ambassador followed. “If we let this pass without consequence, we embolden every shadow organization operating today. We need cooperation—but first, we need exposure. And the Six just handed us that.”
Another delegate—this one from a technological development committee—narrowed his eyes. “How are you detecting these energy anomalies before our satellites do? What exactly are you using to locate these facilities?”
Sylvie stepped closer to the mic. “Classified.”
He opened his mouth again, but she cut in. “And before you ask: No, we’re not sharing that methodology with nations that have repeatedly covered for VIREX operatives. If you want trust, earn it.”
The delegate sat down.
She advanced her final slide. A blueprint of the VIREX node, overlaid with organ-trafficking paths, genetic data samples, and civilian abductions flagged across 14 countries.
“Here’s what we stopped. If you think we should’ve waited—then tell me how many children would’ve survived that wait.”
A long pause. The room held its breath.
Sylvie leaned forward, fierce but composed. “You may fear what the Six are. But the real question is—where were the rest of you while this was happening?”
The silence cracked.
A Middle Eastern bloc diplomat stood. “We vote in favor of international review. With the Six providing further data as requested.”
A South American representative rose. “In favor.”
Europe split. Half in favor. Half requesting postponement. The U.S. abstained. Russia objected.
In the end, the tally came through: Majority approval for temporary allied status pending continued investigation.
A partial win.
Backstage, Sylvie sat alone for a moment. Her hands trembled—not from fear, but restraint. Ada brought her water, saying nothing, and just sat beside her.
“It’s not enough,” Sylvie whispered. “It’ll never be enough.”
Ada rested a hand over hers. “But it’s something.”
•
Back at base, the tension was thicker than the mountain air.
Ash paced the war room, rereading the transcript of the vote. “So we’re halfway legitimate.”
“Halfway protected,” Quinn corrected. “That doesn’t mean VIREX—or anyone else—won’t act.”
Sylvie walked in slowly, removing her jacket. She looked drained but determined.
“They asked for more proof,” she said. “I gave them everything but blood.”
“You gave them your story,” Kai said. “That’s heavier.”
Rhys leaned on the doorframe. “Some of them actually listened. That’s progress.”
Elias tossed a flash drive to Quinn. “And they’re not getting everything. Not yet. Some of that data’s our last fallback.”
Quinn nodded. “I agree. Strategic transparency only. Let them beg for it.”
Micah stood, crossing to Sylvie. “You did more in that room than anyone in that building ever did. And you didn’t raise a gun to do it.”
Her eyes shimmered. “I felt like I had to fight anyway. Just without the armor.”
Leo poured her a drink. “You earned this more than all of us. Cheers.”
They gathered in the lounge. No music. No noise. Just closeness. Bodies folded together. Shoulders brushing. Legs tucked under each other.
Ash leaned back into Rhys, closing his eyes. “One wall down.”
“Three more to go,” Kai said.
Outside, the winds shifted. Somewhere deep in Europe, sensors blinked. A new anomaly. But this one didn’t match any known energy.
Quinn frowned as he examined the feed.
“Looks like the storm’s not done with us yet.”
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.