August 2nd, 2030, 5:59 pm                                                                                                  

I place my hands on my kneecaps and inhale sharply. My bare feet are sprinkled with dust, but sweat in between my toes forces the sand to make itself comfortable there. My t-shirt sticks to my chest while my hair is in wet strands on the top of my head. My arms and legs are aching, and my lungs feel like they're about to explode.

Celestine has taken matters into her own hands and has decided to train me for the Imperial Guard. She took me outside to the dirt driveway at around nine this morning to teach me about basic combat. No, I'm not embarrassed that a girl is teaching me how to fight. I'm more embarrassed that she's actually kicking my ass in the process. You'd think, looking at her, that she wouldn't know how to properly defend herself. That's also the same moment that you'd get your ass beat. I guess that's what happens when you grow up with a parent in the Imperial Guard.

I made the mistake of assuming that she was going to go easy on me at first. It wasn't horrible in the beginning, but an hour later, things took a turn. She told me that the winner of fights is the one who can keep going the longest. She made me run down to the end of the driveway, about a hundred yards away, to the street, after every spar. At first, it wasn't a big deal, but then, it grew on me.

She didn't give me a break until about noon, when she said that she would drive out to the local Bentley's, the fast food place, and grab us something to eat, then bring it back to me.

Apparently, she still doesn't trust me leaving the property. I didn't mind the mistrust, however, because it gave me time to perfect my techniques. When she returned, not only did she bring back cheeseburgers and fries, but she brought her friend, Lance, which kind of made things awkward. See, last spring, I played for the Bluefield High baseball team, who defeated Stanville High in the championship by a walk-off home run by your's truly. Lance played for Stanville, and the bomb soared over his head for our win. I don't think he's forgotten that in fifteen months.

At two-thirty, when the food finally settled in my stomach, Celestine got me on my feet and we continued to practice. As a joke, she said that I couldn't spar against her, so I should try against Lance, since I could win. Well, Lance took a bit of offense to that, so he made fighting him a nightmare. Let's just say that Celestine may have underestimated her friend a little bit. It doesn't help much that, besides baseball, Lance is also a wrestler and plays football, so he seems to be twice my size at times.

"Alright, Slater, you know the drill," Celestine urges, leaning against the porch railing in front of the house. "If I think you got him beat this time, and you finish the run in less than, say, forty-five seconds, you're done."

I pull my body upright and ball up my hands while moving my right leg ahead of my left. Lance mimics me, swerving his head in a circle with a popping noise. I release my breath quickly and lunge at him, driving my left arm forward. With his right hand, he swipes my fist away and retaliates with a left of his own. It makes contact with my cheek, sending a shudder through my mouth. I stumble backward, holding my chin and warding Lance away with my free hand.

"C'mon, Slater, don't back down from him," Celestine encourages, edging off of the railing. "He's not even that tough!"

I plant myself into the dirt and release my chin slowly. Lance's presence looms to my right, and he's closing in on me. I only have one chance to get back into this brawl. I want to be done with this training already.

I swing my fist upward toward where I can sense Lance being. It makes direct contact with his jaw, and I can nearly feel the bone rattling. As if that wasn't enough for him, I follow through with my elbow, which hits his nose from the side. He cries out in pain, and I freeze. Celestine stares at us, dumbfounded. Before he can regain his composure, I dart off to complete the run to the street.

Trust me, I didn't mean to hurt him. He's been kicking my ass for the past three hours, and it's refreshing to finally land a good hit on him. I hope he's okay, though.

My foot touches the black pavement of the road, and I swivel around to sprint back. The evergreen trees that stand down the street are gradually darkening as the sky above changes from pink to orange to the west. Out at sea, in the east, the incoming clouds are dark blue and purple, not conforming to the sunset behind the forest. The breeze from my left smells of salt and chills the beads of sweat on my face and shirt.

Lance sits beside Celestine on the porch stairs as I approach. He clutches his jaw, trying to move it around, but wincing as he does. She hands him a tissue, and he shoves it up his right nostril. I doubt that this is how he expected his day would go. If he's really hurt, then I'd feel terrible.

"Hey, man, are you alright? I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to hit you that hard," I apologize, taking a seat in front of him and Celestine. He doesn't say a word. I turn to her, wrapping my arms around my legs. "So, I'm guessing we're done?"

She nods softly. "Yeah, you're good for now. We can come back to this tomorrow, if you want."
I can't stop thinking about all that's happened in the past day. I'm pretty sure that Roarke and his friends are really behind that guy's murder. Why else would he have that tattoo when he was dead? I still don't know what that means for me, considering I share that mark with him. If Roarke wants to come for me, he should watch out. I know how to defend myself now.

Yes, that was sarcastic.

If only I could talk to the man. I'd pick his brain about his Medo, or whatever, and see if he'll care to admit his crimes. Would he be able to be put to justice? I'm sure that the murder of the man from the Meadowlands is only one in an extensive succession of devious crimes by Rodney Roarke.

"Hey Slater," Lance says, with his voice muffled by the pain. "My cousin joined the Imperial Guard back in '21. I remember him telling me about how easy the tests were and shit. I wouldn't worry about it too much, if I were you."

I smile slightly, because my mind knows how reality truly is. "Thanks, Lance, but I wish that that was the case for me. It's a lot of pressure to do well. I think I just need to get over the nervousness at first."

"I've been considering joining the Guard next season after junior year. I know that my coach is going to hate me for it, but there's much more to my life than football, you know?"

"Do you guys know of any kids from Stanville that are going to the ranking next week?" I ask, curiously. I'm sure that there are plenty of kids from Bluefield who are joining. The current General, the one who used the OLC before me, grew up in Bluefield, and assists kids in making it into the Guard if they want. Lots of kids are inspired by his accomplishments, so they want to follow in his footsteps.

Celestine, after thinking for a while, bobs her head. "Hal van Lester is the only one that I know for sure. He signed up to be personally trained by Colonel MacTavish in Bluefield. His parents used to know the Colonel, so that helped him to be selected. If you're trained by a high officer like that, you're almost expected to be first or second in your class."

Lance pulls the tissue out of his nose. "Didn't Craig do that thing, too?"

She rolls her eyes. "Oh yeah, Craig Larsson, too. He's, like, the smartest kid in our whole school, but he's also a complete douche. Him and Hal are friends, so expect them to be competing for a spot in the top ten. I think Major Talbot is the one training him."

"So, if I'm training with the Captain, does that mean that I have a shot at the top ten?" I question, leaning back. It would be nice to make the top ten, but I'm pretty sure all I have to do is make the top hundred or something, and I live.

Celestine shrugs. "You could always try. It'll definitely be tough."

Behind me, I hear dirt being crushed rapidly. I turn around, to see the Captain's car rolling up the driveway. I stand up and brush the dust off of my shorts as I watch him park right in front of the garage, or shed, or whatever that is. What is he going to say to me? I watched the press conference this morning; he was pissed that the mark was found on the victim's arm.

"Are you going to tell him about the M on your arm, Slater?" Celestine asks behind my back.

I watch him exit his car, slam the door, and glare right at me. "He already knows."

His black tie is separated, and the top of his shirt is unbuttoned. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and I can see sweat stains all over his shirt. From the passenger seat of the car, someone else exits and walks around the front. He is tall and dark-skinned, clad in a pressed Imperial Guard uniform. It must be Jameson, Celestine's favorite Imperial Guard Colonel. What is he doing here?

Captain grabs my left arm and squeezes it fiercely. He pulls me toward the Colonel. "You see, Arthur? Slater has the same M on his arm."

I wrestle my arm out of his grasp and hide it away. "Leave me alone," I growl, backing up to Celestine and Lance.

Colonel Jameson curls his fingers over his palm at me. "Come here, boy. Let me see the mark." I shake my head, and my feet hit the porch stairs, so I step up. "Show me, or I will revoke your One Last Chance. Don't think that I won't."

"Brian, what is he going to do? Don't let him hurt me," I plead, backing into the front door. I reach for the door knob, keeping an eye on Manchester and Jameson. I don't trust this man at all. I don't like how threatening and powerful he seems.

"Slater, he's not going to harm you. Just let him examine the M, will you? Please don't be so difficult." Captain moves slowly toward me, maneuvering around his daughter and her best friend. "Come on, don't be afraid."

Jameson snickers. "I will tell you where your father is if you show me the tattoo."

Without any hesitation, I spring past Lance and the Manchesters to confront the Colonel. I reveal my arm to him and gaze up at him as he observes the mark. Does he really know where my dad is? If he knows, then why hasn't he gone looking for him? Jameson nods his head.

The Captain walks up to us from behind me. "Arthur, you can't-"

"Silence, Captain Manchester. I am in the middle of an important investigation, and I cannot have distractions. Now tell me, boy, when did you acquire this blemish?"

I ponder for a moment before answering. "I first noticed it the morning that I was arrested. The Captain pointed it out during the interrogation."

"That is Captain Manchester to you, boy. Now, have you had any strange encounters or supernatural events occur in the days that you have had this mark?" Jameson rubs the brand with his thumbs. I guess he has to know everything about it, including how it feels.

Do I tell him about Roarke? Am I close enough with the Medo leader to protect his identity? He could kill me if I snitch on him. "No, I have not, sir."

The Colonel lets go of my arm and digs his hand into his pants pocket. He pulls out a syringe and captures my arm back. "I need to draw blood to see a difference in that of one infected by such a liability. Hold your arm still." He lightly taps the long needle with his finger. I struggle to pull away, but Jameson's strength holds me back.

The Captain reaches across my body and seizes Jameson's wrist as it swings down to my arm. "You will not!" He shoves the Colonel away from me and creates a barrier between him and I. "There is no need for such experiments, Arthur."

Jameson gasps. "Excuse me, Captain Manchester, but I believe you promised that you would assist me in discovering the mystery in the death of Alfred Jennings, in all of my endeavors. I cannot believe the level of dishonesty that you are displaying right now. I need this information so that I can compare blood to find a difference in the two samples."

"Not at the expense of a boy's well-being, Arthur." The Captain argues, leaning into Jameson.

"I can put in a request for a demotion, Captain. James will have to go through with it. Let me conduct this, and your job is saved."

"No." Manchester grumbles, standing firm in front of the Colonel. Will Jameson really get the two of us in trouble, just because I don't want to draw blood in probably the most unsanitary way possible? That's a joke. Roarke was right about him last night, saying he was corrupt. I can see why Celestine doesn't like him either. I'm sure the Captain can work this out with the Guard.

Jameson stares at Manchester, disgusted. "How dare you defy the authority of the Imperial Guard, Captain! It appears that I will have to continue this investigation on my own." He makes his way to the car, as if he's going to leave in it. "You will surely regret this, both of you."

I press myself past the Captain and shout, "Wait! You told me you'd tell me where my dad is if I showed you the mark! You can't just leave!"

He opens the passenger's door, reaches onto the seat, and pulls out a brown suitcase. Marching toward the end of the wide part of the driveway, he yells back, "Well, thanks to your Captain not willing to comply to my requests, I seem to have . . . forgotten where your father is. Today is just a day of broken promises, isn't it? You folks in the City faction have zero class, I'm telling you." Jameson disappears down the thin, dirt path to the street, behind a line of oak trees. What, is he going to walk all the way back to the Meadowlands?

There it is again; another officer in the Imperial Guard who knows what happened to my dad but refuses to tell me. His own intentions are more important than my peace of mind, it seems. If they told me that he was dead, I would be disappointed and upset, but at least I would know the truth. Until I hear that, though, I'll continue to believe that he's lost out there. Give me a map and a location, and I'll find him.

I pivot back to the house, helpless. The Captain stops me in my tracks. "I'm sorry that he's such an asshole, Slater. You don't deserve to be treated like that."

"You shouldn't have brought him here in the first place," I mumble, shoving past him. "Now, the whole Imperial Guard knows that I have something to do with the missing people. And you know they'll pin it on me, too."

"No, they won't. I won't let them. Colonel MacTavish has his own vendetta against Jameson, so he'll deny the claims any chance he gets, trust me. He won't let it get widespread and out of control, like how Jameson makes every little thing."

I raise an eyebrow. "Seems to me like you guys don't like the Meadowlands faction much, huh?"
"You don't know the half of it." He makes his way to the porch, pulling his tie out from his collar. "Something goes wrong in your region? Blame Oltima City. Got criminals running wild in the capital? Blame the kids out of Frayton. The other regions don't do this shit like the Meadowlands do, and it's all because the Colonels don't like each other."

"To be fair," Celestine chimes in from the porch steps, "James has said some pretty stupid things about the Meadowlands, too."

Lance adds, "Last year, after Jameson told MacTavish that his people weren't happy about sending City troops into Meadowlands territory, he said that he didn't care what those hicks thought, and sent more troops."

"Both of them are idiots. But I respect them, mainly because I would hate to be in their shoes. I don't envy General Hamilton, having to tug on their leashes just so they won't bark at each other. I'm glad I'm not in that inner circle yet." The Captain pulls the front door toward him and enters his house, turning back. "I'll be back out soon."

"Good to see you, Mr. M!" Lance raises his voice, smirking.

"Yeah, you too, Lance," The Captain yells back from inside the house, tired.

Cool, so I already learned one thing about the Imperial Guard that I didn't know before. There's a mini "war" between the City and Meadowlands factions, and it's all because the Colonels internally want to slit each other's necks. Wonderful. I'm betting that the first thing the Guard will teach us at the ranking is about how much of a shithead Jameson is. I wonder what the other three Colonels think about those two fighting all the time.

"Slater, one thing that you'll catch on to pretty quickly in the Imperial Guard is the Colonels butting heads all the time," Celestine explains. "It's not just Jameson and MacTavish either. Fitz in Hopewell always gets herself into their fights, Giguere from Ciella almost always sides with Jameson, and Gomez is always with MacTavish. It's just a huge fucking mess. Promise me that you'll be ranked highly, but not first? The highest-ranked recruit has to put up with their bullshit every other day."

    "Trust me," I start, sitting down on the dirt, "that'll be a promise I can keep. I'll just hold my head down and keep walking."

    "Now, that's probably the wrong idea. Hold your head down long enough and one of those Meadowlands folks will blindside you." Lance massages his jaw, looking up to the tangerine sky. He then rises to his feet and turns to his best friend. "Hey, my mom's making dinner soon. I should get going. It was nice meeting you, Slater." He steps past me and down the driveway.

    Celestine raises an eyebrow. "Ok, see you, I guess, Lance. Don't run into Colonel Jameson down there!"

    I stand up and brush the dirt off my shorts. "Is he really going to walk home?"

    "Don't worry, he walks home all the time. He's only a mile down the road. C'mon, let's go inside."

    I lead her into the house and cold air instantly shoots at me. Thank God. It had to be at least eighty out there, even as the sun was going down. I can feel my hair in sleek strands, dangling over my forehead and ears. I had no idea I am that sweaty. Now the smell of the outdoors doesn't mask my unbearable stench. How the hell do these people put up with me? I'm disgusting.

    I slump down into a kitchen chair and puff out all my breath. Celestine sits down in the chair across from me and does the same. We were outside all day, and this is a well-needed rest from that. I don't know if I could do that tomorrow, though. My arms hurt to no end. Fighting really isn't my thing, you know. I think I might actually be better at running than combat.

    My scar is completely dry after being baked to a crisp in the sun, yet, it shows no signs of healing anytime soon. Some hours, the scar looks like a tattoo, and others, it's like a knife carving. Then, every once in a while, it looks like a burn. Whatever it is, it isn't leaving, no matter how long it sits out in the heat.

    "You did pretty well today, fighting for the first time," Celestine smiles, leaning back in her chair. "Other than breaking Lance's jaw, your punches were solid and well-timed. One thing to remember is that you aren't going to be fighting people like him all the time. There are going to be people who don't do the same things you do. Like putting you in a chokehold, and-"

    "Slater already knows how to put someone into a chokehold, don't ya?" The Captain appears in the kitchen entrance with a menacing grin. "You should've seen him yesterday, Celeste. The kid practically pounced on me because he thought I gave him the mark."

    I shake my head. "Look, I was pretty confused with everything that was happening. I had just found out that someone was stalking me, and I was scared. I also, like, really hated you, so anything to make you out to be a bad guy was good enough for me."

    He points to me, nodding. "See what I mean? I told you he hates me."

    "Why does he hate you?" Celestine asks, glancing at both her dad and I.

    So, who does she want an answer from? The Captain will say that I hate him for no reason and that it's probably because of something that doesn't matter anymore. You wanna know what I say? He lied to my mom when my dad went missing. He promised to help her take care of me and find my dad. He did neither of those things. Ten years later, he thinks everything is okay. I know that he thinks that I'm a piece of shit that doesn't deserve his "help". His "help" consists of telling me to run to a lighthouse and back, then he leaves for the day. To add, he exposed me to the Imperial Guard because I have the Medo's mark, so now the whole system hates my guts more than they already did. He doesn't want me to succeed with this, he never did. He's breaking his promises; something that he's all too familiar with.

    "He thinks that I abandoned him and his mother when Calvin," He looks at me for a second, then turns back to his daughter, "left. I didn't abandon them, and you know that, Celeste. You remember when I would go take care of Slater when his mother was at work. Then, she kicked me out of the house two months later for some bullshit. You remember that, don't you?"

    I spring out of my seat and stand a foot away from him. "Funny, because I actually don't remember that. At all."

    "Funny, because I wasn't talking to you." The Captain turns and looks down to me. "I offered to help your mother, and I did when she needed me. She kicked me out after you got into a fight with a kid at school, and she blamed it on me. That, you should remember."

    The memory he describes flushes over me, and it all comes back. I was in second grade, walking home from school with a bloody nose and tears streaming down my face. Some third graders picked on me and beat me up as I was going home. I had never been so disconcerted in my life to that point, even after hearing that my dad was lost. There was nothing more that I wanted in life than to go home and never go back to school.

    Brian was there instead of my mom, since she was at work. I should've been used to that, but I didn't want to talk to him. I wanted to crawl into my room and disappear forever. I had no choice as soon as he noticed the blood coming from my nose. I told him exactly what happened, about how the kids attacked me without even giving me a chance.

At first, Brian was speechless, possibly trying to comprehend the cruelty. Then, he was furious, with clenched fists and a fixed jaw. He told me to go confront them the next day, but I told him that I didn't know how to. That was when he taught me how to defend myself in case they tried to hurt me again. He made it very clear that I should only fight back when I'm being attacked, however, I did not quite get the message.

The next day, the kids approached me, menacingly. They taunted me and asked if I was ready to get beat up again. I didn't let them. Of course, that was when the principal caught us, and I got suspended for five days. Brian had to pick me up from school early, and he was so angry at himself, because it all would have never happened if he didn't encourage me to face the bullies directly.

When we arrived back at my house, my mom was already there, waiting. She was beyond pissed at me, and Brian took all the blame for what happened, even though it was my fault. I shouldn't have retaliated at the kids at first. Nonetheless, my mom deemed Brian to be a bad influence on me, so she kicked him out of the house for good. Since then, she's hated him to no end. Then, I didn't think that he was a bad guy. But now, I know what my mom saw inside of him. The fact is, that incident was the last straw. My mom was mad at him for other reasons, but she never entered into detail.

"Yeah, I do remember. It still doesn't change how you treat me like shit and don't even care about what's going on with me. I know that you didn't sign up to be my mentor, but you could at least try. You know, Celestine taught me more in nine hours than you have in two days." I inhale. "So, do I hate you? Yeah, a little bit."

    Neither of them say a word. My words float around in the air, without anything else interfering with the lull between the three of us. My eyes bounce back and forth amid the Manchesters, waiting for one of them to snap the silence. The color in Celestine's face drains out almost instantly as she stares at me, stunned. Her dad, though, has his gaze fixed right at my face. I wouldn't dare glance at him, in fear of seeing the face of death glaring back. Someone please say something before the Captain kills me.

Without switching his gaze, he mutters, "Celeste, would you step out for a second?" The stifled anger in his voice is struggling to remain barred back. Celestine slinks away as fast as she can, up the stairs, to avoid what's about to happen. I still can't look up at the Captain, so I keep my eyes on where Celestine was just sitting. I can feel his presence right overtop of me, to my left side, although he doesn't inch any closer.

    "It seems like you will never understand anything that I tell you. You are just naturally stubborn and defiant, aren't you?" Surprisingly, his voice has not extended beyond a low grumble. "You need to realize that I'm human, just as much as you are. I have a life outside of helping a temperamental teenager learn how to survive an Imperial Guard ranking. The business in the-"

    "It's the rest of my fucking life!" I swivel my head to face him, teeth gritting. "If I don't do well at the ranking, I'm going to prison forever. I'll never have an opportunity like this ever again. If you really are human enough, like you say you are, you would understand that my freedom is in danger. I'm not defiant, I just want you to actually fucking care about me." My voice breaks with the last sentence. I step backward and return to looking away from him.

    After another pause, he finally says, "Slater, I really am trying to set aside time to help you. I'm sorry that you feel like I'm letting you down. From here on out, I'll prepare you as best as I can for the 12th. If you're willing to cooperate with me, I will gladly help you."

    "You better," My words wedge through my teeth. I hope he's actually going to keep that promise this time.

    "Well, that's that, then." He whirls away, putting an end on the conversation. Before he can exit the kitchen, though, he twists back slowly. "Hey, are you hungry? It's just about dinnertime."

    "I'm sorry, what?' I tilt my head, with anger still seeping from my voice.

    "You heard me. C'mon, we'll go get something to eat, and we can talk this all over, help you calm down a bit. What do you say?"

    I sigh, releasing tension in my muscles. "Fine, whatever."

    Whatever saves my life at this point.