Black Flame

Chapter 18: The Trial

Felix shivered as he sat on the cold brick floor of his pitch-black holding cell, the room being located within the basement of the Militia headquarters. He had no way to tell what time it was, his cell lacking any windows, or any other source of light. His hands and feet were bound in iron shackles, the cold metal pressing against his exposed skin, having been stripped of his clothes and dressed in a patchy tunic and shorts.

He still couldn't believe how quickly he had been arrested, stripped of his belongings, and locked away in this place. He hadn't even been given enough time to explain himself before one of the Militiamen kicked him down and stole away his knife, one of the greatest embarrassments that could befall a Human man, and flipped over and tied up.

Being arrested was nothing new to Felix, but never once had he been transported to a prison cell, and it was just as awful as he had imagined. The room was roughly three feet long, three feet wide, and wasn't even double that tall. Felix couldn't even stand up without needing to bend over to keep his head from touching the brick ceiling.

There were no windows, no bars, no peepholes, only a solid steel door that could only be open from the outside. Through the door, Felix could hear the muffled chatter of two Militiamen outside, the very same two who had arrested him. He couldn't understand what they were saying, but by the tone of their voices, it seemed that they were arguing about something when suddenly, they went silent.

Felix stood up and pressed his ear against the door, trying to pick up any pieces of secretive conversation, but only picked up the sound of two pairs of hobnail boots approaching his cell. Felix quickly fell back down, trying to make himself seem as pathetic as possible, knowing that his judgment was upon him.

The iron door's lock clicked as it was unlocked, the latch sliding loudly as the door creaked open. There, standing in the doorway, were two men, one of pale skin and one of dark skin, dressed in solid white khaki fatigues, with armored vests fastened tightly around their chests, nearly identical to the ones worn by the regular Militia, only black instead of tan. On their feet, they wore a pair of black hobnail boots, while on their heads, a black helmet with a white circle possessing their insignia painted on it, a black shield surrounded by a flame.

Felix recognized them as the 'Sacred Gaurd', a Militia unit that belonged to the Church, and whose sole purpose in life was to guard the Priesthood. They were the descendants of those entrusted by Romulus to protect him all those decades ago, and they were the only members of the Militia whom Felix somewhat respected and feared. They were the ones who carried out the punishment of prisoners upon the orders of the Priesthood. They were the cutters of hands and the burners of men, and they carried out their duties without remorse or contemplation, only loyalty and adherence to the orders of those above them.

Held tightly in their hands at the port of arms position were two BP-12s, seven-pound amalgamations of steel and plywood, chambered in the ever-controversial .280 Romulus, a so-called 'intermediate cartridge' designed solely for the BP-12 which was loaded into the rifle via 20-round magazines, which were inserted behind the firing grip and into the stock. Mounted permanently on top of the rifle was a short scope, and just underneath it, a pair of traditional iron sights.

The rifle was initially designed to replace the current Militia's standard-issued battle rifle, but the majority of members were neither able to afford the rifle nor willing to downsize their current rifle cartridge, the .308 Romulus, to the smaller intermediate cartridge.

The Sacred Gaurd, however, saw the value of the cartridge and its lower recoil. As such they ordered fifty rifles to equip themselves with, becoming the sole possessors of the rifle.