Demoted
de·mote: v.
1. To reduce in grade, rank, or status.
2. To assign a lower position.
The sun shone on the small Louisiana town, bathing it in warmth and brilliance. With the mild heat came the sticky humidity that made breathing hard and walking a chore. The townsfolk, used to such weather, bustled through the streets, congregating at a platform erected in the center of the large park downtown, whispering among themselves to see if anyone had an inkling of what their leader would say at the public address.
The town of L'eau Foncée seemed like any other small Southern town on the surface, built along the Mississippi River.. The outside areas contained residences, the schools, and a few locally owned businesses, while the downtown area contained administrative and city government offices and banks. The buildings downtown were fairly old, having been built in the late fifties. Nowhere in the town could any national franchises be seen; even the downtown department store was locally owned.
Downstream from the town was a larger industrial complex and harbor, located within easy driving distance from the downtown area. Workers normally completed their labor with little complaint above the superficial, transporting materials from the boats docked there at the river to the manufacturing facility. The products created there were then loaded onto cargo planes and flown out to the reconstructed town of Springfield or occasionally an undisclosed location overseas. The laborers never questioned the nature of their metal products, only worked in proud service to the man and organization that had forever changed their lives and that of their town.
The streets, normally busy with the comings and goings of the locals, were still and quiet as all were gathered in front of the platorm decorated with a blue and red banner welcoming their leader. The rumor was that he would be addressing their conerns regarding the decreased orders to the plant and how that affected their local economy. Every face carried a hint of anxiety and the whispers grew louder as they discussed their fate. The anxiety went unnoticed by the guards assigned to the event, who merely stood at attention in their cleanly pressed blue and red uniforms.
Two young women stood behind the platform, paying careful attention to the orders rattled off to them by their trainer. Neither flinched, but each secretly had a mental image of an old snake with broken fangs trying to suck the life out of a mongoose when they considered the ornery old man in front of them. Still, both also knew it was an important assignment, the final trial in their years of education.
"Now listen up. Coral, I want you to his left. Cottonmouth, to the right. You've both done well in your training and are at the top of your class. Do your job perfectly tonight, and both of you will be guaranteed a place among the Crimson Guard. The task is easy. Just keep your eyes open for danger and warn Cobra Commander at the first sign."
"Yessir!" Both replied in unison, saluting.
"You two arrived here from Sprinfield together, but there's going to come a time where one of you is going to move beyond the next. Don't hold each other back. Now, I'm going to go stand with the other trainees. Take your places." The older man looked at each of the girls with a speculative eye for the two he watched grow from enthusiastic young girls into capable graduates. He shuffled off and out of their field of vision.
The rally had a seemingly flawless beginning, starting with the local High School band playing a fanfare and march for Cobra Commander's arrival. Cheers erupted as he stepped onto the platform, hands raised in a greeting and minor salute of his followers. As one hand lowered, the other waved across in an indication that the crowd should be silent, and the two trainees took their place behind and to either side.
Cottonmouth kept a watchful eye on the crowd, scanning the bleachers for anything that looked remotely suspicious. Coral was as mindful, but as the speech droned on, she found herself hanging on every word, captivated by the presence and charisma of the hooded figure behind the podium. So enraptured was she by the words of encouragement for the residents of the small town that she did not notice the ring of the gunshot until she was knocked over by her yearmate throwing the Commander to the ground next to her.
"Guards! Find the assassin! Do it now!" Cobra Commander ordered, his voice raised in fury and surprise. He ran towards the back of the stage, ordering the two trainees with him as he made a beeline for the building that served as his temporary office.
"Now." The word was a statement as he paced the linoleum tile covering the break room floor, footfalls loud and deliberate. "Trainee Coral. Would you care to explain why you did not join your fellow trainee in covering me during the attack?"
"C-commander, sir. I didn't see it. I was..."
"You were...? Continue."
"I was...I didn't see the weapon, sir." Coral explained weakly, her stomach descending into her boots.
"And Cottonmouth, what is your explaination?" He asked, a calm sneaking into his voice that frightened both teenagers.
"Sir, I saw a light reflect off of the sight. I barely had time to get you out of the way." The taller girl explained, her eyes trained ahead and not on either of the other figures in the room.
"It is reflexes like that I'm looking for in a Crimson Guardsman. Consider yourself promoted."
"Thank you, sir! I won't fail you!" Cottonmouth said, breathing a sigh of relief. She remained at a solid attention until Cobra Commander ordered her dismissal.
"As for your friend here, I am displeased with her lack of attention." The hooded man turned on Coral, causing her to shrink back nervously as ice blue penetrated her hazel while he stared her down.
"For not paying attention and endangering my life, I have one word for you, and then you are dismissed. Demoted!"
Coral bit her lip, nodded once sharply and turned to walk past the Commander, passing between him and Cottonmouth. For a moment, all was silent except for the soft footfalls of the trainee as she passed by, and then...
BANG! A wet, sticky warmth splattered across Cottonmouth's pale features, clinging to her cheek and dripping down the side of her burgundy uniform. Her friend stood frozen for a moment before falling in an slump before her and landing with a dull thud on the stained tile. She slowly turned towards the Commander, dark blue eyes wide with disbelief.
"You're a mess, Cottonmouth. I expect better from my Guards. Go clean up and report to my trailer." He ordered. "Oh, and while you're at it, have someone mop this... mess." He waved his hand dismissively at the gore that was once Coral's head, and stepped out.
Cottonmouth simple stood there, her bloodwashed face turning to look at what remained of her friend, a cold sweat forming on her brow. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, body shaking as she fell to her knees...
...and promptly sat up out of bed, sheets sticking to her bare skin as she climbed her way out of the nightmare. Cottonmouth turned to her calendar, focusing on the date illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through her window.
Five years ago. Coral, I'm sorry. I can't stay here anymore.
End Prologue.