Hells Bells

Growing Unrest in Gods

March 19th, 2025, Wyte's Office, Gods Dimension.

Wyte sits there in his chair with his head resting on his hands. He is lost in his thoughts about a sudden situation that has arose. In his absence not only has tension between the God Republics sky rocketed, but some of his officers have been getting into fights with their Arragonian counterparts over the best counter to the boiling temper of Coliac. To the point that the 200 MPs assigned to his division have to be put on standby to potentially break up fights.

In front of his desk stands his second, Rishu, his secretary, and a very tough looking MP. Wyte suddenly inhaling stiffens the line's stance.

WYTE: Disappointment is not the right word to describe how infuriated I am over this predicament. On one hand, the Coliac Republic is preparing in all haste to join hands with the Triple Alliance. On the other hand, my division decided that fist fighting Arragonians was a valid response. So I have Arragon and Odin jumping down my throat, even though they were responsible for this mess in the first place.

His subordinates look at him in shame, with Rishu unable to meet his eyes. While Rivet has an unsure look on her face.

WYTE: Sergeant Evans, throw those who started the fights into the stockade ship off Base Phoenix for 12 hours.

The MP clacks his heels and leaves the office.

WYTE: Rishu.

Rishu freezes, slowly coming to meet her friend's glare.

RISHU: Yes, sir?

WYTE: When Evans is done with his task, get into a ring with him and prepare to be out for a few days.

Rishu is a talented boxer and can go toe to toe with most her division, but fighting an MP is different as their training involves them boxing almost daily to combat people like her. Though she can win, her body will be more battered and bruised than a normal boxing match. She tries to voice her concerns over the strict yet reasonable punishment, but her commander is reaching a boiling point of his own.

WYTE: If you speak further I will have you fight a Rabbit Cavalrywomen, and if you further complain, I'll get in the ring myself with a 12 gauge and see if you can block double ought buck.

She shuts up and just nods. She is dismissed with a hefty sigh. Wyte then looks toward his secretary, raising an eyebrow.

WYTE: Why are you in line?

RIVET: Uniforms, sir.

She says in a calm tone.

WYTE: Uniforms?

Rivet moves forward and hands her boss the paper in her hands. He takes it and looks over it, then lets out a slightly amused scoff.

WYTE: Right, we're switching to a BDU type camo again. Those were suppose to be here a week ago.

RIVET: They did come a week ago, but the Phoenix Armorer hasn't issued them.

Wyte lets out a stressful chuckle and buries his face in his hands. His voice becoming muffled.

WYTE: If I could cry, I would.

He places his hands on his desk.

WYTE: Did he give a reason as to why?

RIVET: No.

Wyte jolts from his seat and readies to slam his desk, but he takes a sudden look toward Rivet, seeing her afraid. He just sighs while slumping back into his seat.

WYTE: Me throwing a temper tantrum is gonna get us nowhere.

He reaches for his desk phone and dials a number. The person on the other end picks up and Wyte goes on about the undistributed gear. It goes on for a few minutes until the commander gets a respectable answer. Placing the phone back in the receiver he then refocuses on Rivet.