Fallen
Thomas sat at his desk, staring at his computer. It had been yet another long day trying to sort out a hopeless case about two "time travelers", as they've been dubbed. He was in charge of finding the evidence that would bring this case a little higher on the to-do list. It was 1:00 a.m. on a Friday morning; he was still awake, even without any coffee. People wouldn't start coming in for another five hours at least, although that's still not much sleep time for him.
Of course, no one got much sleep at the Wing organization, the officials always had some "major" assignment in store for anyone who finished the previous one. They've been nicknamed the FBI of the future, but they haven't lived up to the reputation. Their specialty is investigation and argumentation, but they don't abuse it. However, they've been strangely passive in the recent events.
"Finally, at least some information." Thomas exclaimed. He had tapped into the Wing surveillance cameras in the last two days. After day one, which took about 6 hours running through the footage, he found at 8:06 on Sunday night that a chase had taken place right before the rally. He saw the figures of the two they were looking for, and a third, probably the one chasing them; he was an Enforcer...
* * * * * * * * * *
It was 2:00 in the morning; a stranger wandered the streets of Exodus. It was quite noisy with all the shops still open and cars filled with tourists driving by. He walked up to one of the shops, the "Walking Diner", and walked in. Surprisingly, hardly anyone was inside, but he sat down anyway. He was looking for someone to tell him some information of where he really was, he knew the name of the city, but he wanted the history of it.
After a few more hours, everyone else was gone and he left the shop. Well, that was a complete waste of time, he thought to himself.
As he was walking out, he bumped into a rather tall Enforcer. He apologized, but the guy just kept walking, not even a grunt came out of him. He was slumped over, slouched, he looked almost sick.
"Uh, is anything the matter?" the stranger said as he caught up.
The Enforcer looked at him, straightened himself, and kept walking, at a slightly faster pace. The stranger was easily back at his side.
"Do you have anything better to do than follow me?" the Enforcer said after a minute or two.
"Yes, actually, I could ask you about the history of this city?"
"Just keep following me." He chuckled.
Another officer appeared at the end of the street, but his insignia was different, plus, his uniform had less equipment, only one weapon. Instead of just a cloak, he wore an armored mask on his head, connected to two layers of shoulder plates. He was walking briskly toward the Enforcer.
"Lieutenant Commander J. Kane?" he asked the Enforcer.
"Yes, and you are?" he answered.
"Commander Thomas Obias, Wing Squadron." They shook hands.
The stranger didn't seem to want to be near any sort of authority, and left unnoticed. The two officers looked each other over before saying anything more.
"We should probably step out the civilian's view, if they see two different officers talking, well-
"I know."
Kane followed Thomas into the alleyway; still not sure what this was all about. Kane instinctively leaned against a wall, as he always does in a conversation. Thomas did the same on the wall parallel to him. Once again, the two stared at each other, waiting for whoever spoke first. It was silent for a long time.
"What did you have to do with those two renegades?" Thomas just blurted it out, he was sick of the silence. His voice was still quiet, calm as the morning air.
"You mean the "time travelers", and I was chasing them, what else? I assume you found that out from your spy videos." He replied with a hint of sarcasm.
"Yeah, whatever, were you involved with that, uh, scuffle at Harvey's yesterday? And, while we're on the subject of Harvey's, explain to me what you claim you saw. I've already talked to the bartender."
"Okay, number one: yes, I did beat up Darin, I actually enjoyed it. And you can't put charges on me because it was self defense."
"You were asking for it-
"How would you know?"
"Scouts." Thomas said the word easily, almost harshly, as if anyone would know about scouts. "But that's beside the point still, the renegades, uh, "time travelers", what were they doing and-
"Number two: I'll start from the beginning..." he told him everything from when Harvey yelled toward the closet to the rally at Direct's gate.
"So their names didn't register on the scanner, did you do a world scan?" Thomas was saying after he was done.
"Yes, same outcome, they didn't register." Kane replied.
"Hmm, even if they were using fake identities they would still be able to be tracked." Thomas thought out loud.
"I know, which adds to the theory that they could be time travelers. I've thought about this, if they're from the future, they could be capable of time jumping."
"But we've only just begun to harness the power of time, we're no where near-
"Exactly." Kane said simply. Thomas understood. The two officers stood for a good while contemplating this. Both glanced up at each other at the same time. Thomas spoke first.
"Do you think the High Council would object to a Wing Commander and an Enforcer working together on the case?"
"Yes."
"But they don't have to know." Thomas read Kane's mind.
"Let the partnership begin." Kane ended the conversation; they shook hands, and left in separate directions.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Jeremy held the paper in his hand and looked up toward the street sign, double-checking it. He looked directly southeast from the sign, sighting the run-down, deserted movie-theater. The original doors were barred shut. The note said to enter the back way anyway.
The meeting wasn't for another hour or so, but he decided he should get there early to get to meet people. The guard at the door was young, 14 or 15 years old, but he tensed up when Jeremy approached.
"Who're you and what are you doing here?" his voice was low for his age, and he was just as muscular if not more so as Jeremy.
"My name is Jeremy and I was signed up for the meeting here." Jeremy replied as calmly as he could; he was scared out of his mind of getting caught.
A symbol on the boy's belt flashed red for a second, then green. The boy relaxed and said, "You're a little early, you do realize that right?"
"I was hoping I could meet the rest of the participants." He countered.
"Well, in that case, I'm Mortar, we go by code names within the rebels. It sounds like you'll need one soon, Jeremy?" he commented.
"Let's make one up now, how about, um, ... How about Kahn?"
Mortar laughed, saying he didn't look the part.
"Well, I don't see how you resemble a mortar." Jeremy shot back with a chuckle.
The two boys laughed together, they became easy friends in those few moments. They passed the time thinking up names for Jeremy, laughing at how stupid each one was. Jeremy settled with the name Ezekiel at five past the hour people were supposed to arrive.
As if buy cue, the door behind Mortar opened, and a woman in the red and black trench coat walked out, the same woman Jeremy had talked to earlier. "Mortar, have you been keeping our last guest outside like this, you should have brought him in an hour ago."
"But the note said-
"That was for security, in case someone got a hold of it, that is why I contacted you."
"But you didn't, I-
The woman didn't let him finish and just invited Jeremy inside, Mortar followed, silent as a lamb, as to not attract much attention. The woman's code name Jeremy found out later was Syria. The theater was about three fourths full of protesters and ex-soldiers, even a few highschoolers like himself. The silence was only broken when he entered the room with Mortar, who motioned him to a seat while Syria began the welcome speech...
* * * * * * * * * *
"This is insane, you can't do that!" Trevor yelled in the middle of the meeting, "You can't just kill innocent people like that."
"Sit down, Trevor, we only invited you to this meeting for observation, only so you know what's going on and you won't be confused." The chairman said at the highest podium.
"Hold on chairman," a voice from the elevated platform sounded, "You didn't consult me on this, why?"
"Well, Veg-
"Silence! You do not speak that name now..." the platform stayed where it was, but another object lowered itself to where the chairman was standing, a robot. Basically a head and two arms connected to each other by indestructible rods. It came to rest where the chairman used to be, he moved out of way when it lowered itself into the throne-like chair. The new "chairman" continued, "My name is Simon, do not forget it." He motioned an arm toward a councilman, who stood up and announced himself. "Mr. Smith, read off the names of the unfortunate rally men." Simon commanded.
Mr. Smith read down the list; Trevor listened intently. Smith's voice came across the name "Jeremy Orson" and Trevor remembered the day of Michael Orson's death that fateful October morning, before the Wing and Enforcer factions were created. It was a recon mission, quick hit and run, that was all. I was only soldier then, well, a Lieutenant, if that even means anything. The recon never happened, while we were marching through a civilian slum, gangs ambushed us.
Trevor's thoughts were interrupted by someone saying his name, "Trevor, do you agree to the declaration?" Simon was asking. Declaration for what? Trevor thought, are they going to withdraw our troops finally and not kill those 50 people. No, it was a simple document stating that they would never call to arms in that way ever again, not to stop it.
"Yes, I agree, may I be dismissed." Trevor replied after some thought.
"Yes, of course, Trevor. We'll see you tonight."
Trevor didn't wait for the last part of the comment; he just left as quickly as possible.
It was the time of gang wars, too many rebels. Children were playing in the street, we couldn't defend ourselves, they were in the way. There was one child that was older than the rest; he tried to get everyone to safety.
The door to the commander's block slid open, and he walked briskly in. It only took a moment for him to find his quarters.
The boy was only 13 at most, tall for his age. Everyone else was turning their gaze to the gang leader; we might have been able to ward the gangs off in time if not for the children.
He gathered his leisure clothes as quickly as possible and began to change.
Finally, the boy cleared out everyone except for a small 5-year-old on the other side of the playground. The baby had seen its mother on the other side, and was running to her, despite the guns blazing around it. I had just fixed my sights on the leader...
Trevor was out of the room and jogging down the entrance hall toward the door. He stopped when he came across his office, then bolted through the doors and jumped past and down the steps.
I pulled the trigger simultaneously with the leader, his shot was lower, the 5-year-old was little. The boy didn't even yell when my shot blew apart his left shoulder, or when the pistol's bullet imbedded itself in his leg, the 5-year-old was alive and crying.
Trevor searched his memory for the map of the city, then found the Orson's house; he sprinted off in the right direction.
The leader and I both stood motionless, blood was on the pavement, both of us were crying. However, the boy was not dead, at least not yet, he would without help. The leaders didn't fire another shot at my platoon, nor did we at them. The gangs simply retreated, and we called an ambulance for the boy. He stayed alive another two days...
Trevor skid to a stop in front of the house and bounded up the steps.
At the funeral, I told the story of what had happened, I was not blamed. The boy's death stopped the gangs, they realized that the shot came from both sides. I made a promise I would watch over them, and if it were in my power, I would keep them from harm.
His fist rose up to knock on the door.