Blue Monday

Interlude 4 - An Army Of Jesters In Black

In the locker room, Steve changed out of his street clothes and into his specially armored night shift uniform. Made of a synthetic material not known to Prime Universe science, the uniform came with a lifetime warranty, promising permanent protection against all bullets, missiles, and elemental attacks or your money back.

Of course, despite being on night shift (when his comrades said all the action took place), he hadn't had any real opportunities to truly see how indestructible the suit really was. Well, there was the one time he and Freddie had used their fire elementals on each other's suits, but that barely counted. It definitely wasn't a real example of dangerous action.

But at least the gear looked cool.

"You all right?" Freddie asked.

Steve stowed his bike helmet, headlamp, and glasses in the locker, then closed it, spinning the dial. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm all right. Why?"

Freddie shrugged, pulling the uniform jacket on over his T-shirt. "Dude, you just seem a bit down lately. You still haven't asked Fionna out?"

"I don't think she's interested in me," Steve said. "She still wants Alex, I think."

"How can you be sure?"

"She dreams about him all the time."

Freddie pulled off his jeans, then replaced them with his bulletproof pants. Belting them into place (the belt, sadly, was not bulletproof), he sighed heavily. "In that case, I'm not sure what to tell you."

"Don't got any experience with living/dead romance?"

"Closest thing I've ever come to it was that Janie chick I dated senior year," Freddie said. "Girl was a total goth."

Steve snickered. "Did she make you dress like her and shit?"

"My parents probably still have the photos to prove it," Freddie said with a sheepish smile. "Well, you ready to hit the wall?"

"Sure thing." Steve and Freddie pulled their guns off their hips, checked to make sure they were still loaded - they always had been, ever since they'd first been issued to them six months earlier.

As they passed through the break room on the way to their pod, Steve and Freddie stopped and joined a group of about twenty other men and women watching the Ten O'Clock News. They were broadcasting a snippet of today's earlier press conference from Los Angeles. President Preston Holly, looking as elegant as ever with his perfectly pressed dark blue suit and wavy blond hair combed into submission, was speaking on the unexplained events that had caused several East Coast cities to lose all communication with the outside world.

"...the cities have been able to send out sporadic radio messages, but only when the moon is up," Holly was saying. "And each time, the message is the same. 'Kill us all.'"

"Shit, man," said another man to his buddy. "I got a brother in Memphis. You think they're gonna be next?"

"Could be," said his buddy, clapping him on the shoulder. "Sorry, but these things are spreading way too fast. We might end up being the last line of defense, you know?"

"Defense against what?" Steve asked. He was aware he probably sounded like a fool, but between all the problems in his personal life and the difficult, grueling training he and Freddie had endured before finally getting approved to join the night shift, he still had very little idea of what was going on.

The man with the brother in Memphis turned to Steve, then looked at his buddy and muttered, "Noob."

"I'll tell you what we're defending against," said a glamorous blonde girl, about Freddie's age. "The scrivs."