The brake and gas pedal seem to be getting their faces rearranged through the forest; the leather steering wheel receiving a serious case of strangle hold, spinning around faster than a gyroscope. Yahto was taking evasive maneuvers at the subsequent waves of trees swiftly coming up on the truck. He took a hard right and the bodies battered the left side of the truck. The mistaken identity missile launched off a large boulder, caught hang time, and landed on a hardly traveled dirt road. Yahto swerved to stay on the path and headed up the trail. Now on a more-or-less street, brought the speed of the truck to a tier above Sunday drive.

Trees started to become scarcer as the oddball pair of cargo and vehicle rolled onto pavement and passing a plastic sign reading "Welcome to Midbay!"

Its rickety structure the only manmade object in sight. Yahto thought that it acted less as a boundary and more of a glimmer of hope for those who traveled away from civilization. After all hardly any of the civilians would see the sign. Why would they? They have food, shelter, protection, all the things people love right there inside the city.

Though I would rather be wander around than need constant protection. Those people stay herded into one area for their entire lives and for what? Some food and a false sense of security? What happens when that security runs out of bullets? Still, the food aspect I can understand…..

Yahto began to zone out into his own world, singing along to the CD and thinking about what he was going to eat after he dropped off the beowolves. Some chocolate milk, pancakes, a couple eggs, and some sausage sound great right about now.

Mimicking the beat with his hands, the horizon started to fill with a tall steel wall surrounding a large settlement. Getting closer, the wall loomed above him and his truck. The sun positioned high enough in the sky, he could just barely make out the armed guards and AA turrets poised to unleash hell if anything came within range. Luckily, the airspace and dark forest are calm, and everyone was enjoying a peaceful morning. Yahto scanned the rest of the encampment and smiled. Well, except for the one inside the tower. Through the window, he could see one guy throwing a fit in front of a coffee machine; seems like his long night would not be rewarded with that bitter nectar this day.

"Seems I'm not the only one who hates mornings."

After a minute of driving, to a commotion between a trucker and one of the guards behind the gate catches his attention. Seemingly bringing in a shipment of dust by semi, the man looks nervous, pacing back and forth constantly looking over his back. Yahto muses,

"I don't blame him; this might as well have been a death sentence to any untrained driver. Even the pluckiest motorist wouldn't take that job unless they were getting paid double…triple on bad reports. Dude has some serious cojones."

The guards on top of the wall suddenly perked up and moved to various positions, causing Yahto to slow his truck's speed. They scrambled across the wall's plateau and opened up battlements in the side, weapons drawn. Yahto scans the forest line 200 or so meters away just as they guards are doing and came to idle the old clunker. He thought,

If that driver is scared now, I can't wait to see what he will do in 45 seconds.

He proceeded to park the truck and turn off the ignition. Yahto got out and decided to go over to the driver. The man was wearing a white trucker's uniform and a matching hat to boot. He is waving around his grey cap at the guards, threating to toss the rough fabric. Shorter than Yahto, his body was stocky and built like a tank. Yahto managed to overhear some dialogue as he closed in,

"….ook, I was sent by the Schnee Company to give you this supply of dust in payment from Capture Corp. You guys need it, I want to get on my way. I don't know why you are being so uptight about this. Can I at least get behind this damned gate?"

Some colorful birds from the tree line across the road startled and flew off. Not that these two noticed due to their squabble.

The guard in black and grey uniform statically responds over a voice comm,

"We cannot allow anyone in Midbay without the proper verification. It will only be a few more minutes."

The driver changes from nervous to irate,

"That's what you said 15 minutes ago! Just get me to safe-….and who the hell might you be!?" his gaze turns to Yahto, who is leaning against the side of the semi's trailer.

Yahto had to choke back a chuckle at the guy's outburst.

"No time to give you my life story Mr. Saltshaker. What you need to know is that I have a weapon, the guards are about to open fire, and you should really get back into your truck."

The driver looked skeptical when an ear-piercing roar came from the trees about 100 meters across the road. Both the driver and Yahto turn to see seven ursa barreling towards the gate. Right thereafter, a loud thud of a truck door slamming shut could be heard. Yahto saw one ursa was ahead of the pack and entered the unsuspecting field of grass, stepping on something man-made. There was faint whirring noise and then an electrical crack came from what could deduced as a trip-mine. The snipers of the guards shoot another two, who flop ass over teakettle into the ground. They didn't shoot bullets, but tranquillizer darts; for the same reason Yahto didn't kill his beowolves, what good is a research subject if it is dead? The remaining four ursa seemed to have avoided the other mines, presumably placed in the trek to the road and were still running towards the gate. Another sniper round fired, but missed its target, and they Ursi continued to their goal. The driver of the dust semi-trailer was now blaring his horn and revving his engine trying to bluff his way in. Seems the guard on duty had other matters to attend to.

Why isn't the main force shooting yet?

Yahto was just about to draw Wakinyan's Feather when the ursas started to trample onto the road. They step foot onto the pavement, and the guards opened fire. Their nerve dart guns sounding off a muffled puff through the air.

Toof! Toof! Ta-toof!

The ursas stumble and fall, not even making it halfway across the road. Yahto watches the usra fall, and eases up a bit thinking,

Ooooh. They must use the road as a marker for their weapon's effective range.

"That's actually quite clever. Not something I would expect from the meatheads." Remarking to himself.

The truck driver returned to revving his engine and blaring his horn, causing Yahto to cover his ears.

"You see that, Salty?" Yahto yells over his commotion. "You're well protected here. No need to be cowering under the steering wheel! Also no need to be rattling brain with that noise!"

The driver halts his racket and retorts back,

"Stop calling me that, my name is Fredrick! I don't choose the uniforms! And who's cowering? I was just taking up a defensive position. Now in your gracious wisdom, you think you can convince this chick to let me in?"

"Not my problem."

"Then leave me alone you cocky brat!"

"What was that? I can't hear you over the sound of me walking away."

"You piece of s-"

"Shiitake mushrooms!"

Fredrick punches the horn of the semi.

Ursi taken care of, the battlements ceased firing and the soldiers on duty go back on standby. A small capture group rallies, gathering in a communal inside of the main tower. Though everything is back to normal, Fredrick shows no signs of pausing his droning noise. People drift out of their houses just to see what the commotion was; their dazed, early morning faces hoping to catch some of the action. It seems the guard in charge of the gate finally got the proof she needed, or just didn't want any civil unrest coming from the citizens. Either way, she alerts the driver the gate was about to open. A grating metallic sound screeches as the large gate began to open up to the distressed man. Fredrick wastes no time shifting gears and entering the village. The maniac passed a couple small boarding houses and homes to either side, blazes past a yellow light, and took a sharp right around the street corner. The spectators, now finished filling their curiosity, reenter their living abodes to shut out the world for another day. Yahto decides it's time to head back to his truck when he notices some black uniformed guards inspecting the bodies on the flatbed. Guns raised, they started circling the truck and opened the front door.

Yahto's eyebrows raise and he bolts across the road to his truck.

"Hey-hey-hey-hey! Back off! The clunker and the wolves belong to me!"

Startled, they point their guns toward him and a look of surprise fastened to Yahto as he shot his hands up in the air. Their visors covered their faces, but he was sure they were at least a little scared. Judging by their height and curiosity, they must have been younger than 18.

"Uh, woah there soldiers…. New guys on the block right? It's a great thing you guys signed up to protect your families and what-not. Truly brave hearts, the lot of ya. I know all about the famous ritual of Midbay! I'm what you would call an extended resident. You've been to Bayside Bistro's right? Best cooking in town!" Yahto said smiling trying to diffuse the situation. One guard vaguely nods in agreement, slightly lowering his weapon, but a squad member elbows his ribs to keep the barrel pointed at the intruder. The leader seemed to be mumbling through his helmet comm about their current circumstance to HQ. His body was stiff and poised, this one has seen battles before, and is not as skittish as his underlings are. Seems easing the tension isn't a possibility here. Yahto's smile vanished.

Oh great. Greenies and an uptight leader with no sense of humor or information. Thanks for filling them in Commander Noirbrain.

"Ok guys. Just get ahold of Ms. Noir and I'm sure she will let m-" His sentence was cut off by the leader holding up his hand and declaring,

"Enough. I have just contacted Commander Noir. She said you are to come with us. Follow or be fired upon. Your call."