The Morningstar Brigade

Chapter 13

XIII

JONATHAN

15 Minutes Before the Invasion

Interrogation Chamber, Morningstar Keep

"Alright, let's go through this once more," Jonathan said with a weary sigh. "And this time, could you do me a favor and try to tell the whole story without an expletive this time? Swearing makes Morningstar cry."

The still-bandaged Shepherd sat opposite his verbal adversary in a small, dimly lit room somewhere in the catacombs of Morningstar Keep. A single Vita-powered bulb weakly doused the unlikely pair in a sickly amber light, its glare only further underscoring Jonathan's exhausted expression. Their surroundings were composed of nothing but various shades of dismal grey, with each item in the room only distinguished by the level of wear that it had endured. Both Shepherd Jonathan and the scowling girl across from him sat in uncomfortable steel chairs, forcing them to sit at an exceedingly uncomfortable angle. It was unclear whether this was part of the interrogation design, or merely further evidence of a pervading Briagde mentality that prioritized rigidness and structure over comfort.

The female detainee's lower lip twitched with irritation as she kicked her feet up onto the stiff, iron interrogation table and tilted back her chair. She likely would've tumbled over backwards if she hadn't managed to use the metal chain running from the shackle on her wrist to the table leg to balance her weight perfectly. "I told you," she growled, "the name's Rebecca. I'm the yearly recruit for the Brigade from New Anchorage." The young woman gestured brusquely towards a messy stack of papers lying in the center of the table. "You've got the papers right there to prove it."

Jonathan groaned and leaned forward, scooping up the ratty pile of documents. "Do you seriously think that these were going to convince anyone?" He flipped through the pages dismissively. "Half of these have blatant erase marks over the original information, a third are so outdated I had to dig into the archives to even verify they're real, and there's at least two that appear to be filled out with..." The Shepherd paused and glanced across the table, eyebrow arched incredulously. "Is this seriously crayon?"

The female simply glanced off to the side and whistled a cheery tune.

Jonathan rubbed his brow. "Did you really expect to be able to waltz into the most secure fortress in all of Eden with nothing but that Brigade uniform and a cocky grin?"

"Wouldn't be the first time," she replied. With a cocky grin.

"Listen, I have no idea where you managed scavange these miserable excuses for a forgery from, but I do actually have some documentation of my own that matches you quite nicely," Jonathan said. He slapped down on the table a thick manila folder with a red Morningstar Brigade insignia enscribed on its breast. "Your name is not Rebecca. Your name is Katrina."

She winced at the flowery rhythm of the name. "Kat," she corrected.

Kat leaned back and rested her combat-boot clad feet on the edge of the table. She wore the same uniform as any other member of the Brigade, but somehow she gave it an active air of aggression. The edges were sharper, the curves were tighter, and somehow she even made the black look sleeker. Her deep brown eyes cut through the darkness and her bright white smirk warned others to keep their distance. Kat's jet-black hair fell over her ears and ran down to her shoulders, with only a streak of neon-blue breaking up the midnight-colored locks. But making an impression wasn't the point. She was something else entirely. She was wild. Every shift of her weight, every crack of her knuckles, every flash of her eyes, was daring the world to test her limits. And she was certain that she didn't have any.