Chapter 5: Distressing Behavior
Training Center VIII: Chikara Division
Africa, Earth
28 March, AC. 185
"Enter, but be prepared to have your legs shot off for the interruption," Julius replied to the scratch at his door.
Nikolai smiled before entering. Clearly, Julius was not expecting to be visited by the chief of Christobel Barton's security. But then, who would?
When he saw him, and recognized him a moment later, Julius' face reddened slightly, but he was not flustered. The instructor merely rose from his seat and said, in a vaguely apologetic tone, "My apologies, sir, I was expecting a subordinate."
"At ease." Nikolai said. "My orders are for you to accompany me on an assignment. Dr. Barton demands it, do you accept?"
Julius swallowed reflexively; 'assignments' with Nikolai and his crew never went well for any tag-on involved, there were so many fatal accidents in them. Internally, Julius felt like someone was slowly filling his head with oatmeal, that the jig was up and he was caught, he felt suddenly sluggish and extremely tired. Externally, he betrayed no such sentiment and simply said, blue eyes cool and calm. "I do. When do we leave?"
Marketplace, New Nairobi
Africa, Earth
1 April, AC. 185
Normally the business of the renowned New Nairobi Marketplace was a small daily event in the large city, built on the ruins of the first Nairobi -destroyed in a campaign battle decades ago. Craftsmen showed their handiwork, and people came in droves for the high-quality works. However, the crowds were unusually thick, even for the rush hour and new merchants were hawking their wares, wares that weren't always up to the usual standards. Unsurprisingly, because of this there had been more than a few fights between merchants, clumsy skirmishes most of them, usually with a permanent seller attacking one of the new squatters and destroying their goods, inferior merchandise the majority of it. As an inevitable result, the invading merchants had brought in bodyguards to protect their stalls and property.
It was suspected that those bodyguards were felons, mostly because they tended to slip into the nearest shadow to hide whenever the police or the odd patrolling party of MP's strolled down the aisles, looking for such undesirables or merely browsing through.
Demeter only knew a little of what was going on with the squatter situation, and cared even less as she ran her hand along a shawl at that merchant had draped along his booth. The fabric didn't have much pattern to it, but Demeter found the tight weave and the gradual, but rapid change of the subtle colors in the cloth, where the threads blended into different shades very intriguing. The merchant manning the booth quoted a price to Demeter, expertly noting her interest in the item she fingered. Demeter gave the man a dry look, shook her head and walked away, she mildly wondered if the fellow was one of the squatters that was causing such a fuss, the price for that piece of cloth had been high enough to merit it.
It did not matter much, she had not been in the mood to buy anything really, Demeter was more of a window shopper and rather liked to see what other people were capable of creating. She found her casual scrutiny relaxing, and enjoyed taking in all the sights and sounds and different shades of human talent and imagination on these little walks.
She stopped for a moment at another booth, which was hosting lovely pieces of wooden furniture, constructed in the old styles, some of which looked wonderfully primitive and harsh, others more elegant and refined. She gazed for a long while at a table set, the top carved with an intricate design and the legs in spiraling patterns. It would look lovely in her office, if she had one. She chuckled sourly, thanks to Barton and the med-tech's little habit of shunning those who started to cause problems within their system, Demeter knew there was no reason to buy the table, handsome though it was. The word on the grapevine was that Christobel was planning on sending her off on some backwater project to keep her out of whatever was going on at that base that seemed to be his new little baby. The table would be a waste, so there was no reason to possess such a fine piece of furniture.
To avoid having to fend off a haggling session with the merchant who had taken notice of her and was steamrolling their way towards her, Demeter nonchalantly glanced out side the booth. She looked long and casual at the movement outside, like she had nothing better to do and strolled out of the booth, leaving a frustrated merchant standing at the other end of the table, glaring a large hole in the med-tech's back.
It was late afternoon settling into dusk as Demeter finished her tour in the marketplace. She had decided to return to her temporary quarters, a building set-aside for medical personnel on a transitory stay and for official visitors. She had a small room -which she had specifically requested of the managers, and they had been meticulous about granting her request- and though not overly eager to return, she wanted some close quarters after the agoraphobic nightmare of the marketplace. In choosing to cross through the marketplace on her way back to her building, she was just in time to witness another fight break out between merchants.
Rather, it was a fight that broke out among several merchants. Screams, cursing, flying fists and the violent crashing of baubles greeted her as she made her way down the main walkway, and the fight was rapidly growing as more and more merchants leapt up to defend their stalls and remaining products after a day's selling. Demeter, not liking the idea of trying to fight her way through the melee, made a snap decision and turned down a minor walkway, away from the marketplace and it's brawl.
Three or four blocks from the marketplace, Demeter realized she had taken a wrong turn somewhere. She walked to a corner, looked down the intersecting street both ways and saw nothing she recognized, not even a sign. It was a juvenile delinquent habit to pluck street signs loose all over the city and keep them as trophies, the practice had been going on for so many years that the inhabitants were largely used to maneuvering around on landmarks alone, many of the newer drives didn't realize that the streets they used even had names. Though she had been in the city for a few days now, Demeter wasn't familiar with the general landmarks of the place and didn't recall ever being in this part of town before.
"You seem lost." A deep, almost gentle voice said behind her.
Startled, Demeter whirled around to face a tall, slim man, dressed in plain military fatigues. His face was bland and had generally nothing memorable about it, and his dark gray eyes were flecked with chilly blue. Demeter blinked and took in that his hair was a close-shaven military-style buzz cut and he looked rather like he needed a shave, a five o'clock shadow looked rather heavy on him.
"I am." Demeter, replied, seeing that she was facing an off-duty soldier, likely one who was stationed at the nearby mobile suit base. "I am new to this city and do not know this sector."
"This is the warehouse district," he said, sounding perfectly cool and military, "what are you looking for?"
"The Medical Sciences Residence complex."
The man nodded once, "Ahh, that is not far from here."
"Can you give me directions to the complex?" Demeter said, feeling her luck had changed for the better, allowed a small smile to lift the corners of her mouth.
"I will escort you there." He said, turned and began walking down the sidewalk.
Demeter almost did not follow him immediately, since she was rather surprised by the quick, jerky way he moved on and the fact that he did not look back once to see if she was following him. Something about that tickled a warning in her brain that this was amiss, but she ignored the feeling and jogged to catch up to him, falling into stride on step behind him. She noticed a patch on his arm, denoting him as a member of a military police unit, she said, "Are you an MP?"
"Yes."
"I had not known your range was this far out, I had been of the impression that MP were mostly distributed to handle potential disorderly conduct in crowds."
"They are." He said, without even a sidelong glance.
"What do you think about the controversy of the new testing procedures in cadet training, they've gotten lighter and many are not pleased about that?" Demeter suddenly said, trying for some small talk.
"It does not concern me."
Demeter was surprised at the reaction, given that this MP officer looked like he had been in the military for some time now; he must surely have an opinion. Many of the older officials were against the lightening of standards, but the public had demanded it, when injury rates were finally revealed to them. This indifference to the hot topic was unusual to say the least.
"Do
you think, as some do, that the limit on people who are of small stature is
unjust?"
"It does not concern
me."
"What about those who wear glasses?"
"That does not concern me."
Something about the way he said that made Demeter feel as though he had no clue of what she was talking about. The chime of danger rang loudly in her brain, she stopped walking. "It does not concern you, because you don't know what I'm talking about."
"This is the path straight to the residence complex." He said, ignoring her accusation and turning down an alleyway that she had not noticed before. "Come." He said.
Demeter had a moment of hesitation, her mind cried for her to turn and bolt, but curiosity drove her after him. "You do not know what I am speaking of, do you?" She said, as she stepped into the alleyway.
"It does not matter." He said and turned towards her.
Demeter's brows furrowed, "You are wearing a military police uniform, but you are not an officer, are you." She said, the phrase a statement.
"It does not matter now." He said, even in the shadows of the alley, Demeter could see his hands curl into fists. Peeling off of the walls beside him, Demeter could see two other figures emerge from the shadows. If she was not mistaken, they too wore military police uniforms.
Oh shit!
Demeter started to cautiously back away, all the while analyzing her situation, in these close quarters and outnumbered three-to-one she knew she stood no chance, being out on the street would tip the odds in her favor. She turned and bolted for the entrance, she made two strides before something hard and heavy cuffed her behind her knee, making her leg crumple beneath her and sending her sprawling for a moment.
She gathered herself together and tried to roll into a combat crouch as something seized her shoulders from above and behind and lifted her off the ground. The man had her, pinning both of her arms back behind her back nearly twisting her shoulder joints out of their sockets. Demeter bared her teeth in a vicious snarl as she smashed the back of her head into her attacker's nose, hearing something break as she pulled away from his loosened grip. There was a faint smell of something she noticed as the second came at her, the odd chemical/rummy odor she had whiffed in Barton's office, she got a single good look in his eyes and saw nothing as he grabbed her by her jacket collar and tossed her into the third; the tall, gaunt fellow who had lured her there to begin with.
And then it began…
She took many blows -many brutal, painful blows- before she finally passed out.
Nikolai ended it with one final kick to the ribs, sending the body sprawling over onto it's back, where it settled and lay still. A little pool of red started to spread beneath the still form as the trio walked back into their alley.
A fourth watched them approach and two of them pass him by with hardly a glance. Nikolai paused, stared the other man dead in the eye.
"Consider this a warning Julius. Dismissed." Nikolai said, brushing past the instructor and disappearing with his team, into the shadows.
Julius listened to Nikolai's departure and stared at the form in the street for a long while, eyes bright with unshed tears.
"Sister…" He whispered, voice heart-stricken, as the night wind picked up, blowing the odd debris of wastepaper between them in the cold moonlight.