Mana Tapu

Chapter 15

Clouds of dust billowed through the street as Rufus smoothly slid to a stop.

"Woo! Was that epic or what?" Commander Jackson fist bumped the air in triumph.

"It was most definitely an 'or what'. As soon as this toxin wears off I'm driving." Captain James Arlo unclipped his seatbelt.

"Come on man! We made it here in record time. Give me some credit, you're being over dramatic." Jackson slipped the keys into his pocket and opened his door.

As the two comrades emerged from the dust storm Commander Jackson carefully ignored the scratches on the hub cabs. Arlo was angry enough as it was with the dirt on new paint. Around them there was a hurried shuffle of boots and a strong sense of awareness. Once the dust settled all eyes turned towards the Captain of the Guard.

"ATTENTION!" James bellowed the command with a desperate strength.

"Yes Captain!" The pandemonium shut down. The Elite stood at attention, admiring their Captain's new uniform. Those who held guns snapped them to their sides. The unlucky few who forgot their hands were full received a brush full of paint to the face. Jackson and Arlo took in the dismal scene. The Elite with black paint dripping down their eyebrows had barely managed to cover a tenth of the derogatory graffiti. At this rate it would take a week for a full restoration.

"Who knows where the Intern is?" Commander Jackson barked at the eager troops. The nearest Elite stepped forward, still holding his salute. "Elite Quentin?"

"He is interrogating the Edward's residency. They are the nearest occupants to this..." his gravely voice hitched briefly, "...incident."

"An interrogation?" Captain Arlo spoke up "Who authorized an interrogation?"

"Yes, Captain, an interrogation," Elite Quentin paused in confusion, "an interrogation that was authorized by you. He said that you ordered him down here on urgent business. In his words 'complete authorization until Captain comes in thirty minutes'."

"Take me to him." There was no hesitation in Arlo's command. "Everyone else: Keep it up! You're saving lives."

Captain Arlo and Commander Jackson walked side by side down the neglected street. Their heads were bent and voices lowered in an urgent conversation. The nearby Elite and their men quickly turned away in an attempt to not be caught eavesdropping. Commander Jackson kept reciting his favorite Shakespearean acts in a hushed tone. Captain Arlo nodded his head occasionally as he let his friend sneakily support his weight through their interlocked utility belts. As much effort as it took to walk it required even more to hold in his laughter. Turning down a muddy road they approached a small, dilapidated hut. Their acute senses severed the shouts of the cleanup crew behind them from the muffled cries ahead. The duo and their guide reached the rotting porch as something crashed inside.

"To be or not to be, that is the question." Caleb reached for his gun, untethering their two belts simultaneously.

"To be wise or not to be wise," James retrieved his own gun from his belt, "was the decision. He chose to be an absolute idiot."

Opening the front door, Elite Quentin politely stepped aside. The scene was hideous. A petite woman faced away from the door in the far corner of the kitchen. The back of her dress was stained with blood as ripped clothing clotted into her torn flesh. Hot streams of tears watered the weathered wood beneath her dirty feet. Small hands clung to her sleeves and sides as they cried out in fear. She was trembling in her silence. A trail of broken glass led from her to her husband. He was strapped to the only surviving chair. Arms, torso, and legs restrained as he struggled to watch his family. The chair was tipped sideways just moments before.