ME: Now it's time to see how pleasant the SSS is, boys and girls. A/N: Interlude.
The leader of the nearly two-dozen State Security Peacekeepers, a Captain by his rank insignia, glared at her. The Lieutenant was glad their visors ensured she did not have to make eye contact. "Where's your Commanding Officer, girl?"
"What's it to you, boy?" She replied, daring the POG-ass REMF to complain at the returned insult.
"I'm her CO, Captain," Major Flavius said diplomatically. "Is there a problem?"
"I need to know if you have any officers amongst your prisoners," he replied somewhat less arrogantly. Evidently the Captain was intimidated by Flavius's oak leaf.
This time Captain Charles Coin answered. "Myself and my good friend Lieutenant Suzanne Boggs are the only ones who surrendered-."
The SSS Lieutenant proceeded to interrupt him with a, "Soldiers, seize those two!"
A squad of the armband-wearing Peacekeepers obeyed her orders then proceeded to move in. Two of them (one undoubtedly the medic by the red cross markings) kept the rest of the prisoners at bay, while the two four-man fireteams each forced one of the officers to their knees before handcuffing them while shoving black hoods over their heads.
"Captain, what is the meaning of this?" Flavius angrily protested.
The arrogant bastard actually tutted before handing him a clipboard. "Orders directly from the President, Major," said the officer emotionlessly. "All rebel military officers and civilian leaders are to be sent to a secure facility for interrogation; the rest of the rabble, like your remaining prisoners, are to be sent to a reeducation camp."
"Reeducation camps?" One of the child POWs asked.
"Yes, a reeducation camp," replied the SSS Lieutenant. "There in exchange for labor to support the war effort you will be provided with adequate food, water and shelter."
"No way I am going to a camp after leaving District Thirteen!" A POW with a similar accent to the two officers snapped while reaching behind his back. He pulled out a knife and charged. "I DIE FREE!"
A pair of SSS PFCs opened fire. Their bullets slammed into the Thirteener, and his gray shirt was stained red by the blood from the wounds.
Enobaria stared at the uniformed body. Thirteen was definitely hell itself if the soldier would rather die then be taken captive and sent to a reeducation camp.
Reeducation camps? The SSS are assholes who run prisons, Enobaria, you know that.
The Captain shook his head. "One less mouth to feed and guard in the camps, then. Lieutenant, you and the men get these rabble moving onto the trucks!"
"You heard him, prisoners!" She snapped, slapping and backhanding a female POW for attempting to make eye contact. "Move it!"
Noticeably, the two prisoners from Twelve (Bristel and the nineteen-year old) stuck together. The remaining prisoners were herded into the trucks, where the entrances were shut and locked tight before the engines (acting as generators for the electric motors) roared to life and the trucks drove away. The SSS troopers watched as they left, undoubtedly to dissuade any POW from attempting to escape.
"Command to Captain Homma, come in," a voice said over the SSS officer's radio. "Henry, are you receiving? Over."
"Affirmative, Command," he replied as Enobaria listened in.
"Remain on station for now, Head Peacekeeper Thread as well as Centurion Panem and his crew will require a protective detail. Acknowledge."
"Wilco," replied the armband-wearer, frustrated. "Homma out."
He turned to his Lieutenant. "You, get those two in the vehicles. One per APC, that way if one gets taken out interrogators will still have one to play with."
Remarkably enough, one of the Sergeants kicked Coin in the leg. "On your feet, maggot!" The NCO snapped.
The two hooded prisoners were forced into the APCs, while nearby Peacekeeper medical hovercrafts landed.
They were a gift from the heavens. Between the extra hands and the supplies, more then a few Loyalists would live to celebrate their next birthday. A few, however, succumbed to fatal wounds anyway or were euthanized for their own comfort. Enobaria tried and failed to block out the noise of a female Loyalist soldier screaming as the medics had to amputate her leg. Morphling always helped, but as trained professionals the medics knew more then any other Peacekeeper that you could only give a patient so much before an addiction developed, or worse, the patient died. Fortunately there was a highly-advanced healing gel that, when applied, quickly stopped the bleeding. The original formula had not only survived since before the founding of Panem but had been refined by decades of scientific research-and-development.
Another hovercraft landed, but no medics egressed. Instead exited four Peacekeepers with the Panem Eagle on their vests but no other modifications to their uniforms, making them members of the Praetorian Guard. Then came Head Peacekeeper Remus Thread, who gave off a more tired vibe then before the war as his two aides flanked him. Finally was a five-person media team from the MOEI; an actor, a reporter/director, an assistant for said reporter/director as well as two helmeted cameramen.
So this is who Centurion Panem really is?
Said Centurion had two rectangles on each shoulder (not that the SSS Captain had earned his either), an Eagle like the Praetorians on his vest and a transparent visor, the last of which was undoubtedly for the benefit of the Capitolite audience.
But Enobaria had second thoughts when she (discreetly as possible) looked into his eyes. They were blue like hers, and she could see an honest man in those irises.
ME: The healing gel is a real thing; Google Veti-Gel. Centurion Panem, of course, is a Captain America reference. Meanwhile Captain Henry Homma's name (and possibly future deeds) is based off the head of the SS and the Japanese General behind the Bataan Death March respectively.