The tension in the Oval Office was thick enough to cut with a knife. The air smelled of coffee and ink-stained documents scattered across Matthew Hesh’s desk. His closest advisors stood around him, their faces grim, their voices hushed.
Attorney General Whitaker sat across from Hesh, his fingers clasped together. Collins paced near the fireplace, running a hand through his hair. The latest reports had arrived, and they weren’t good.
"Mr. President," Whitaker began, his voice level but urgent, "we have confirmed reports that rogue elements in the military are moving into key positions around the city. Some police precincts have gone dark, and National Guard armories are being raided."
Hesh inhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. "How many?"
Collins looked up from the report he was scanning. "Enough to be a problem. If we don’t act now, we lose control of the capital before midnight."
Hesh leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the desk. "And Royce?"
Whitaker exhaled. "He’s playing innocent. His public statement condemns violence, but intelligence reports indicate that he’s coordinating with The Order. He’s waiting for the dust to settle so he can claim the presidency."
Hesh clenched his fists. "So they failed to kill me, and now they’re taking the city by force."
Whitaker nodded. "That’s exactly what’s happening."
Hesh took a deep breath, his mind racing through the possibilities. They needed to move fast.
"Legal options," he said firmly, turning to Whitaker. "What do I have?"
Whitaker sighed, flipping through the legal codes and precedents they had pulled from the archives. "We have two main paths. First, we invoke the Insurrection Act. That would allow you to deploy the military and take control of the capital."
"Second?" Hesh asked.
"Declare martial law in Washington, D.C. and suspend civilian governance." Whitaker leaned forward. "It’s drastic, but given the situation, I’d argue it’s necessary."
Hesh’s expression darkened. "If I invoke the Insurrection Act, how quickly can the military mobilize?"
Collins answered before Whitaker could. "The problem is, we can’t trust all of them. We know some high-ranking officers are compromised. If we try to deploy regular forces without ensuring loyalty, this could blow up in our faces."
Hesh rubbed his temples. "That means we federalize the National Guard first."
Whitaker nodded. "That would give you a force you can control, at least in the short term. We secure the loyalists before The Order consolidates power."
Hesh slammed his palm onto the desk. "Then that’s what we’ll do."
He stood abruptly. "Whitaker, draft the orders for both the Insurrection Act and a martial law declaration. I want them ready within the hour."
Whitaker nodded and got to work.
Hesh turned to Collins. "Call General Monroe. He’s one of the few I still trust. Tell him I want the National Guard federalized and ready to deploy within the next three hours."
Collins didn’t hesitate. "On it." He rushed toward the telegraph office.
Hesh took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the city through the window. This was it. The final battle for Amerathia had begun.
April 13, 1897. Enjoy exclusive chapters from freewebnovel
The city was unraveling.
Gunfire rang out in the distance as rogue military officers and paramilitary units moved into position. Black smoke billowed from several locations—government buildings, police stations, even civilian businesses caught in the chaos.
The National Mall, once a place of speeches and rallies, had turned into a war zone. Pro-Royce militias, armed with rifles and stolen police equipment, erected barricades, blocking off streets and highways.
Downtown, rogue National Guard units stormed the mayor’s office, forcing city officials to surrender control. The D.C. Metropolitan Police, divided between loyalty and fear, was nowhere to be seen.
News reports were fragmented—some stations had been taken over, others were forced off the air.
Inside The Order’s war room, Gideon Langston watched it all unfold with satisfaction. This was their moment.
Hawthorne grinned. "By morning, Washington will be ours."
Langston nodded but remained cautious. "Hesh hasn’t moved yet. He’s smarter than that."
Just as he spoke, a telegraph report arrived.
"BREAKING: PRESIDENT HESH DECLARES MARTIAL LAW, FEDERALIZES NATIONAL GUARD."
Langston’s eyes darkened. "So he’s making his move."
Hawthorne clenched his jaw. "Then we strike first."
April 13, 1897 – The White House Command Center
The White House basement had been converted into a makeshift war room. Military radios crackled, maps covered the walls, and officers rushed to coordinate responses.
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General Monroe, his uniform crisp but his face weary, saluted Hesh as he entered.
"Mr. President," Monroe said. "The National Guard is mobilizing. We’re securing the Capitol and key infrastructure. We’ve cleared out the compromised units."
"Good," Hesh said. "I want checkpoints set up around the White House and all government buildings. No one comes in or out without clearance."
Monroe nodded. "Understood."
Hesh turned to Whitaker. "Martial law is officially declared?"
Whitaker held up the signed documents. "Yes, sir. Effective immediately."
Collins, sweating despite the cold air, approached. "Mr. President, we just received intel. Langston’s forces are moving toward the White House. They plan to storm it within the hour."
Hesh’s expression remained unreadable. He had known this was coming.
"Then let them come," he said. "They won’t take it."
April 13, 1897.
As the sun set, Langston’s forces advanced on Pennsylvania Avenue. Trucks filled with armed operatives, rogue National Guard defectors, and pro-Royce militia sped toward the White House.
But they weren’t the only ones ready.
National Guard units, now fully federalized, had fortified the perimeter. Sandbags, machine-gun nests, and barricades had been erected in record time.
The moment the first truck crossed the line, all hell broke loose.
Gunfire erupted, bullets cracking through the night. Militants returned fire, taking cover behind abandoned vehicles.
The White House, now under siege, stood as a beacon of resistance.
Inside, Hesh and his advisors monitored the battle. Collins stood near a radio, relaying orders.
Hesh turned to Monroe. "Hold the line."
Monroe nodded. "We will, sir."
April 13, 1897.
Langston watched from a rooftop, binoculars in hand. The attack wasn’t going as planned.
The National Guard was holding firm. They hadn’t crumbled like The Order had hoped.
Hawthorne swore. "This isn’t working."
Langston’s grip tightened. "Then we go for the backup plan."
Hawthorne turned to him, eyes narrowing. "You mean…"
Langston nodded. "If we can’t take the White House, we burn the whole damn city down."
Hawthorne’s face twisted into a grin. "Let’s do it."
April 13, 1897 – The Battle for Washington Continues
The gunfire raged on, Washington D.C. drowning in chaos.
Explosions rocked the city as The Order’s forces set fires and triggered sabotage operations.
But Matthew Hesh stood firm, his eyes locked on the battle.
This was it—the final test of his presidency.
He would not let Amerathia fall.