Slater J. Tross, O.L.C

August 24th, 2030, 11:43 pm

There are two freeways that one could take in order to vacate Queen's City, both of which carry you out to the countryside of Stanville. One lies in the west, and another on the east coast, along the bluffs. The road in the east has a wondrous view of the moon over the infinite ocean, where the light gleams off the surface as the waves strike the rocks below. That path is the typical trail in order to reach the Manchester's household; I have weathered it multiple times already.

However, the highway in the west, closest to the Imperial Guard headquarters, is encompassed by a somber woodland. I know what is concealed behind those trees, and it is nothing short of sinister. The canopy of leaves overhead hide any vehicles from the moon's gaze, while some errors in continuity allow some light to drool onto the road.

The road is narrow, slimming from when the first release from the urban landscape occurred. Two lanes merge into one, and the pavement between both directions of movement is splashed with lemon-colored lines. At night, the lane divider is only visible with the headlights of an oncoming car. Beyond that, the world is dark.

To this point, the road trip has been quite rocky. Potholes carved themselves into the pavement, and the Captain swears that he has never seen this turnpike look so bad. He usually takes the ocean highway and hardly ever frequents the one that runs through the woods, even though it is much closer to the Imperial Guard headquarters.

From now onward, the ride should be much smoother than it has been. Once we get into downtown Stanville, the roads are much cleaner and crisper. The night sky is blinded by the sharp streetlights that tower over the sidewalks and townhouses. Because of the late hour, the drive down Main Street is barren. The only noise is the low hum of the engine.

My head rests on the car door, right above the lobe of my ear. My hair presses against my temples, tickling my eyelashes. Some of it has fallen in my face, while the majority remains upright, how I like it. It's been a long day; this is just a side-effect.

I am in just as much disbelief as the next person following the events that unfolded today. I was shoved into the mass of Imperial Guard recruits with little to no chance to succeed and advance to the stage I am currently in. I was harassed to the point of lashing out, and at that point, I believed that my fate was determined. At the finish line, I got the last laugh. He is gone now, and here I am, ranked fifth in Class 30. His efforts to dislocate me from my goal were ineffective, and I came out victorious.

Whichever way you cut it, the end result is the same. I am ranked in the top ten of my Imperial Guard class and I participate in the ceremony on Wednesday. And he won't.

The streetlights of downtown Stanville die out into the night as the car strolls along through to an intersection. The traffic light shimmers red, and the Captain brings the car to a halt. No other vehicles occupy any of the lanes elsewhere at the impasse. The air falls to nearly absolute silence.

"So how do you like your class? Did you talk to them?" The Captain tears his eyes away from the road to give his attention to me. "Are they nice to you?"

This is a scene that I recognize from not too long ago. I am freshly removed from my time in the Imperial Guard headquarters, being escorted by the Captain back to his house. We pause at a traffic light and assess the state of affairs we have found ourselves in. The only difference is my attitudes and outlooks toward the possibilities for my future. They are far more extensive than they were before all this. I am acquainted with my circumstances now.

Also, my hands are not constrained by handcuffs, so that's a plus.

I lift my head, taking in some air. "They're all right for the most part. I only really talk to a few people, like the Corporal, Hal, and my friend, CJ. There's also this girl Dalia, and," I sigh. "I don't know. I think she likes me."

The Captain nods, turning away from me. The light switches to green, and he puts his foot on the gas. "You don't like her back, do you?"

What? If I say yes, will he be mad at me? I don't know what to think about her maybe having a crush on me. I'm not sure that she even does like me. I have a hard time picking up on cues like that. But why can't I like her back?

"I don't know. She talks to me whenever we see each other, but I can't tell if she's flirting or not. I mean, she's pretty and sweet, but I don't know if I could ever see her as anything more than a friend." I press my head on the car door again, staring at my gloomy reflection in the side mirror. My emotions have fallen again.

The car continues along down the road. "Well then, you're in luck. You aren't allowed to be in relationships with other Imperial Guard officers. It is a strictly-enforced rule, and I've seen people be kicked out for dating. It's not worth the risk, especially with your fragile status."

I remain hushed with a blank gaze into my own, sunken eyes. There are so many people in the Imperial Guard and I can't date any of them because of some rule. These are the only individuals I will associate with and none of them are available to me, not even in the future. I'm not interested in dating much right now, anyway. I just hope I'll find a gem outside the walls of the headquarters and fall in love with them someday. Someone to make me happy.

"How are your two officers? I've heard interesting things about both of them." The Captain inquires. We take a right turn, and the blue plate alongside the road flashes across my vision with a familiar name. Paralian Street, as printed on the marker, is the name of the avenue in which the Manchesters reside. We are almost at our destination.

I roll my eyes. "I like Hal, the Corporal. He's one of my friends. He should be the Sergeant, not Craig. I hate Craig, and Hal does too."

"Why do you hate him?" The tangerine glow of streetlights sheds into view down the road. "It's not because he's Sergeant over Hal, is it?"

I haul my head up, crossing my arms over my chest. "Not really. Hal is overqualified to be the Sergeant; he did better than Craig in most of the tests. He's just a better person in general. I don't know what the rankers saw in Craig over him." I watch as the dirt beside the road flies by as the car continues down the street. "He doesn't talk much either. But he did try to kill me during the combat tournament."

The rusted, silver mailbox that is perched at the end of the Manchester's driveway reflects the headlights of the car. The outstanding trees following the path up the hill sway in the harmless wind. As the house, cursed by nearly total darkness at this late hour, comes into view, the Captain regards me. "I saw that."

"You saw it?"

He nods, putting his car in park outside of the shed. "Yeah, all the officers at HQ watched it. I saw you beat him; pretty handily, too." He pulls the keys from the ignition. "Everyone was quite impressed."

I unbuckle my seatbelt and drop out onto the mesh dirt driveway. For once, the musty dense air that surrounds the headquarters and west Bluefield does not infiltrate my nostrils. The atmosphere out here is loose and fresh, uninterrupted by the progress of urban civilization. Of course, the ocean breeze drifts up to this level, filling me with liberty.

And it finally sets in. I'm free.

The light over the front porch shines as the Captain and I make our way to the door. The house itself is mainly dim except for the window to the foyer. A deathly silence is obstructed by my dress shoes crunching the dirt below me. The time does not leave for much to be occurring in downtown Stanville, so the distant noise is nonexistent. The leaves on the trees surrounding the house crinkle against each other in the air current.

Before we reach the porch, the door waves inward. In the gap, a slim, hickory-haired girl appears, poking her head out just enough so only her eyes are visible. Once her view rests on me, however, she uncloaks her face even more. She carefully steps down onto the welcome mat with an unwavering gaze. I stop in my tracks as she constricts her hand around the pillar to the stairs.

It is hard to imagine what the outcome of the ranking would have been without Celestine Manchester and her compassion. I am convinced that a great part of my rank was determined by my fight with Craig Larsson. Beyond that, the preliminary rounds of the tournament lead me to that point. But my victory could not have occurred without Celestine's help. If she never took the time to teach me the basics of combat, I don't think I would have been able to defeat him. Also, I probably would've gotten my ass kicked by Luke when we fought in the restroom.

But I digress. I owe Celestine big time.

"Slater!" She leaps from the top of the steps to land right in front of where I stand. She throws her arms around my body, swaying me back and forth. I embrace her, too, feeling the built-up warmth from her sweatshirt. I thought I wasn't going to see her again, so this encounter is quite the relief. I missed her. "I can't believe it; you're fifth! That's... wow."

Her father lifts his head, accompanied by a grin. "Celeste, that's better than your brother." He faces me as I release her. "Hayes was eighth in his class."

As Celestine's hand drifts away from mine, her sight is fixed on my forearm. Her fingers begin to tremble as they try to grasp her wrist. She blinks a few times before looking at the Captain. She strokes the back of her neck, beneath her thin hair.

"Celeste, are you okay?" I take a step toward her, only for her to take one back. I didn't do anything to make her upset with me, did I? I think it might have something to do with her brother. She was uneasy the first time he was mentioned. I want to know why they don't talk about him more. But if it's that reason, I understand why they are reluctant to tell me.

She reaches out and extends a finger at my arm, quivering more now. "I forgot that you have... the mark."

I tilt my head, glancing at the Captain for a moment. "Yeah, I do. What's wrong with it? Did something happen?"

Before she can construct the words to answer, her dad interjects. "Slater, a lot of things happened while you were gone. And none of them were good." He walks near her as her shivering quells. "The people behind that mark are responsible for nearly one hundred murders in the Empire over the past few weeks. They were just as relentless as when you were still with us."

Damn the Medo, and damn Rodney Roarke. What the hell do they want? Is it me? They're going to keep killing until something changes, and I have the feeling that it's me. But a part of me believes that Roarke denounced me as a follower when he stormed out of my head a couple hours ago. His voice, his presence, gone. The only thing I have left of him is this damn mark and my memory of when we first met in the Manchester's kitchen. I will never fall prey to his desires. But what will it take for these senseless murders to end? Did they end when he left me?

"Last week, someone was killed not far down the road," Celestine mumbles. "I was on my way home and I saw a man being stabbed. I drove here and told my dad what happened."

"Luckily, James was here, so it wouldn't just be us." The Captain continues the story, shooting a sincere look at his daughter. "The three of us went out to investigate and the victim had that mark on his arm. I found the person who killed him, and her arm was glowing. She was part of the Medo."

My wrist, with flayed bandages unraveling off of the skin, sends a freezing shock up my arm to my shoulder. I feel numb. How does he know? "The Medo?"

The Captain puts his hands in his pants pockets and stares at the dirt for a second. He backs away from Celestine and I, picking up his eyes. "I know about the Medo. I've known about them for years. I've seen that mark before, long ago. I didn't think I would ever see it again. Now that you have it, these murders have been popping up all over the place. I see it more and more, and I remember."

I squint my eyes, pressing my fingernails into my palm. "You knew about them this whole time and you never told me? Do you know the things I've seen? The harassment I went through, that CJ went through because of this mark? They were in my dreams, forcing me to wake up in the middle of the night. Someone was in my head, talking to me, and he wouldn't leave me alone."

Celestine gasps, her gaze bouncing between the Captain and I. "CJ Martin?"

I nod. I forgot that these two were friends. "Yeah. This asshole, Luke, carved an M into his arm so it can match mine." I turn back to the Captain as I feel my skin pierce. "Why didn't you tell me about the Medo? We could've done something; you could have done something. If you told someone in the Imperial Guard, some of these murders could have been solved or even prevented."

"No, Slater. Even if I did tell the General, I'm sure they would still find ways to kill people. We're human, and they aren't. They have abilities that we can't even begin to grasp. For example," He pauses. After a moment of consideration, he points to me. "Turning invisible."

"How do you know about them, anyway? They say they only talk to people who they think are "special." If they encounter you once and you refuse, they would've killed you." None of this makes any sense. When did the Medo ever speak to the Captain, and why didn't they finish him off when they were done with him?

The Captain scratches his head behind his ear, glaring blankly at his feet. He takes a deep breath. "They never thought I was special. My confrontation with them was nothing I ever wanted. Much like how it was with you, I presume." He lifts his eyes again. "All I'm going to say is that they captured me. And I saw things that I should have never seen."

He marches up the stairs to his house and shuts the door behind him without another word. What was that all about and why does he wait until now to inform me about this? How does he get captured and not chosen? Does Celestine know about this, or is this a new revelation to everyone except himself?

I narrow my eyes and glance at her. "What's his deal?"

Instead of her usual sympathetic expression, she turns with her finger aimed at me. Her teeth are gritting. "What's his deal? You really need to be more careful. He hates talking about that and you brought it up."

"Me?" My voice rises above its normal volume. "He brought it up first. He didn't have to say anything about the Medo, and this would have never happened. I think he should know better than that."

"Okay, well now you know for next time. Don't try to force him to talk about things like that." She swivels toward her house and takes steps to the stairs.

I advance on one foot near her. I curl my hand and crinkle my nose. "He's like forty. Shouldn't he be able to deal with these things?"

Celestine halts at the base of the stairs and faces me. Her lips are pressed tight, and her fists are at her side. "You don't get it, do you? You can't just forget things, Slater. I saw a dead body last week and you better fucking believe that I'll remember it. They'll stick to your brain like glue, and they won't leave." She frees her fists and brings a hand up to her temples. "Look, I'm not one to typically defend my dad. But he's been through a lot. You didn't know that this kind of thing makes him uneasy, but when he remembers, he draws himself out of everything. This is his worst memory, and you brought it up."

I throw my hands up, walking near the house. "Look, I'm sorry. But he should've never said anything."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." She sits down on the porch steps. "It's just that he's worried about you. He did the same thing with my brother, but I think this whole Medo thing is getting to him. He doesn't want anything to," Celestine hesitates. "Happen to you." She finishes her statement below her breath, only loud enough so I can hear.

I take a seat beside her, leaning in with my elbows rested on my knees. "Like what?"

Her alluring brown hair glides with the drift of the wind. She swipes it away from her lips before she can speak. Even after the physical barrier is cleared, something else is holding her words in her throat. She stares at the treeline on the other side of the driveway, declining to look at me for a second. Maybe this is what she was talking about; when I should just keep my mouth shut.

"Where should I start on the list of Imperial Guard horror stories? Uh," Celestine twitters, reaching up to her eye to wipe her skin with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. "Well, my dad was kidnapped by the Medo and thrown into a prison camp when he was seventeen. That's the one he certainly hasn't forgotten. That was like thirty years ago, Slater. If he hasn't forgotten it, it must've been that bad. And that's not the only one; I got tons."

I slide myself closer to her, trying to pinpoint what her elegant eyes are gazing at in the distance. "How did he get away from the Medo?"

"Well, I guess you'll have better luck asking me than him. He'll have nightmares for days." She lays her back against the railing and places her feet against my body. "He was there for five years. He was captured along with about five of his classmates and they were all killed during that time. One day a Sergeant, Justin Hayes, was taken in, and he helped my dad escape. They planned a big getaway with the rest of the prisoners, and my dad was one of ten people to make it out alive. The Sergeant was not. My parents named my brother after him, and that was it. Or so he thought.

"This was all way before I was born, but as I got older, he told me more about the aftermath. He was beaten and assaulted while in that prison. He was lucky not to break any bones because they would never heal, but he almost did. He doesn't know why the Medo kept him alive over his classmates. Immediately following the escape, he wouldn't sleep, and that lasted up until my brother was about three or four. Because something else happened that nearly swept that all away and made it ten times worse."

Damn. I'm starting to grasp why he might hate this mark so much. It reminds him of his rocky past. I don't blame him for fearing it the way that he does.

"Jeez, that's crazy. I had no idea. I'm sorry." I glance over at Celestine, who has her eyes set on her knees in front of her.

"Yeah, not a whole lot of people do. Now you know. Please don't ask him about it. He hates talking about it, much less thinking about it. It's for the best to wait until he tells you because that means he trusts you. And that means a lot." She hides her hands behind her head and peers up at the glittering stars. The clouds have wandered away for the time being. The sky is much more transparent out here. "Can I tell you something, Slater?"

I look at her intently with a smile. "Go for it."

"I was thinking about this when I remembered what happened last week. Something my dad told me when I was little was that there are some things that go a long way. One of them is patience and tolerance. If people would just learn to be a little more empathetic, I bet none of these things would have happened. People resort to violence too quickly. I wish people would just stop and think about what they do and say and how it might hurt someone else. People are too selfish to care about others."

Luke. The twins. Craig. I nod, leaning back against the stairs. "You got that right. Tell that to the kids at the ranking."

"Just promise me one thing." She clasps her hand over my knee. Her gaze finally meets mine; those mahogany eyes of her's. "Promise me you'll be patient and give people a chance. I know you have to defend yourself out there, but showing people that there is strength in being passive is everything. The world could use more of that."

How can I be a pacifist when people like Craig Larsson exist? Being an enemy of the Medo is sure to bring a violent response, and I don't know if being peaceful is going to work. Well, being aggressive isn't going to do anyone any good, either. Peace isn't something in my repertoire, especially with my past.

No, that's not me anymore. I'm not a criminal. I'm an Imperial Guard. If I can brave the heat of the ranking, I can sustain the idea of being nonviolent. I could at least try.

I chuckle. "I don't know, Celeste. I might need to punch Craig Larsson in the face."

She gives me a light shove, rolling her eyes. "Oh, shush. I guess I could give you one free punch if it's going to Craig. I hate that kid."

"That's fair."

Celestine grabs my arm and reels herself closer to me. She leans her head into my shoulder and studies the stars. "Good. I know you can do it." She wraps her arm around mine with a firm gaze above. "And Slater?"

I look up at the endless universe. The streak of a meteor passes overhead. I want to know which constellation she is examining so we can enjoy it together. "Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're home."