Quebec City, Quebec, the United States of America

February 15th, 1834

As the sun rose in the east, a group of men gathered in a large, private room in an inn near the central areas of Quebec City. All fifteen of them wore dark, navy blue vests with the letters "FBI" displayed on the back. Five of them were armed with revolvers, while the remaining agents were armed with batons. The room was littered with empty boxes that the group was going to bring for the raid (in order to gather physical evidence from their target's residence) and the arrest and search warrants were laid out on the table. The intensity of the situation made everyone extremely focused on the conversation, and none of the operatives were smiling.

"So we're cleared then?" Field Agent Levi Price asked as he shifted the baton on his belt.

Special Agent in Charge Jeremiah Lanius looked at his younger subordinate and nodded, "The district judge, Judge Girard, signed off our warrants an hour ago. We are authorized to arrest Remi Vaillancourt on suspicions of treason against the United States, conspiracy, murder, and numerous other federal offenses. Additionally, as we planned for the past month, we are to seize any documents that are located within his homes to be studied back at Mount Justice."

"We finally get to bash that traitor's face in."

"There will be no violence unless the suspect resists," S.I.A.C Lanius warned with a stern look, "Until he is tried in a court of law and found guilty of the accusations made against him, he is innocent."

"Sir, with all due respect, I don't think he's innocent. Not with all the evidence we have against him."

"Even more reasons to be careful."

It was hard to believe that Vaillancourt was not guilty. After the initial investigations within the FBI and the NIS discovered that there were no internal moles, the FBI managed to lock in on a Quebecois mailman that had somehow deposited thousands of dollars into the Federal Bank out of nowhere. The man's background was investigated and the investigation uncovered some questionable irregularities in his finances. When the mailman was brought in for interrogation, he confessed information about Vaillancourt paying him off to rearrange the letters he was sending out. Instead of the former NIS agent's letters being sent to his family in New York City, they were being sent to Wilmington in North Carolina. One of the letters had been intercepted after a warrant was issued, and the content of the letter made it explicitly clear that Vaillancourt was leaking national secrets (using some of the codes that the NIS used, to add insult to the injury). From there, the FBI dove into the rabbit hole and discovered that the letters were being handed off to a smuggler in the Carolinas, who then broke through the British blockade (while the British blockade was in full-force, there were a few holes that smugglers managed to exploit). The smuggler then sailed to France and dropped off the letters while he traded for goods with the locals. It took over two months for the US to pressure France in finding the receiver of these letters. After some time, the French government finally obliged and a raid on the person's home revealed that the man was an extreme monarchist. That same man also sent the letters off to the French Empire (despite the tense relations between the two, a few ships passed through both nations) and it was evident that the letters were sent directly into King Louis XVII's hands (the old French king finally passed after his years in exile, and his son took over the throne).

The report that was compiled from the investigation, along with the testimonies and the evidence, was more than enough to compel the federal court to issue the warrants.

After a short discussion, the men headed out to Vaillancourt's large home, which was on the outskirts of the industrial city and monitored by three other agents as well. Once the agents on the site saw the group, they moved into position. One of them came up to the Special Agent in Charge with a frown, "He's inside, sir. Night watch saw him go in during the evening and he hasn't left the house since then."

"With all the entrances accounted for?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. We breach in twenty minutes. We won't knock, but we'll announce ourselves."

A third of an hour later, the three groups of the FBI task force were ready to breach the three different entrances of the Vaillancourt home. On Agent Lanius's signal, the teams rammed their steel battering rams into the doors and pushed into the house with their weapons drawn. Echoes of "FBI! Get down on the ground!" rang through the house as eighteen individuals moved to secure the building. Lanius personally led one of the groups and moved towards the room which was suspected to be the former NIS agent's study. He kicked down the door and entered with two other agents, his six-shot revolver scanning the room for any threats, "FBI! Mr. Vaillancourt, we have a warrant for your arrest. Show yourself!"

In the corner of the study, a fit and lean man lashed out at one of Lanius' subordinates with a sword. The agent went down with his shoulder heavily bleeding from a deep cut and Lanius wasted no time to fire a shot into the assailant's right arm. The shot landed home, but the sword-brandishing man continued to fight despite his injuries, attempting to cut off the Special Agent in Charge's head.

Another shot landed in the man's leg and the slasher collapsed onto the ground in a heap. Lanius breathed heavily as he checked up on his injured agent while his other subordinate, Agent Price, pinned Vaillancourt to the ground.

"Let me go!" Vaillancourt screamed, "I'll have you know that I am a personal friend of the King of France!"

Lanius blinked, "Mr. Vaillancourt, you are under arrest for treason against the United States, conspiracy, murder, accessory to murder, private correspondence with a foreign government, bribery, use of fictitious name and address, and a host of other crimes. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you."

"Release me! I do not have time for this!"

"Tell that to the judge," Agent Price growled as he bandaged the raving man's wounds and dragged him away.