Snippet #2343735

“Extra! Extra! Read all about it! Faceless terrorists strike at the heart of Altheim! Governor Bailey ups his anti-faceless regime!”

“Apples! Get your scrumptious apples cheap!”

“Well, well, well, look’ it what we’ave ere?” snorted a man, a distinctive country accent filling his sentence with mispronunciations.

“It would seem to me, Jerry, that this one here is one of em’ Faceless folk,” responded another, answering the man apparently named Jerry’s question as though it were not rhetorical.

A brief silence interjected, followed by the harsh clap of leather on flesh and a whimper. “That’s Sir Jerry to ya Private! And I don’t need ya pointing out the obvious Cantus! Ya think I can’t see that this is a Faceless for myself?” shouted Jerry, his colourful accent once again filling the alleyway.

“Sorry Sir!”

“Now the question is, what we’d oughta do with this terrorist,” Jerry continued, his voice growing slightly in distance as he looked away, turning his face to address Cantus.

“I dunno Sir,” Cantus mumbled.

Another harsh slap echoed throughout the alleyway before quickly disintegrating amidst the loud thrumming to daily traffic. “Ya think I was asking you Cantus? Damn smartarse….” slurred Jerry, closing in to get a closer inspection. A loud sniff preceded his scrutiny as the stench of iron wrinkled his nose. Ignorant of the stranger’s obvious plight, Jerry poked and prodded with the hilt of his discipline cane, ensuring the Therian was no longer lucid. After receiving a satisfactory lack of response, he leaned back and sighed.

“Damn scumbags. Should never trust a Faceless, Cantus. These demons can dress up as anyone ya’know. They’ll stab ya the moment you turn your back. Orders are to turn these Faceless in and hand em over to Headquarters, but I don’t think they’ll miss one itty bitty Faceless like this. Besides, he won’t survive the twenty-kilometer walk to HQ, and no doctor would be willing ta treat im'. We’re doing him a favour honestly,” Jerry’s smirk was followed by a small wisp of a blade being withdrawn from its sheathe.

Abruptly, a new voice interrupted the fray as a hooded man directed a woman into the scene, “Madam! I saw the suspicious men run this way!”

“Sergeant?! What’s going on here?” boomed loud yet commanding tone. Heels snapped together in the idiosyncratic fashion of standing to attention as brisk footfalls indicated someone was approaching down the alleyway.

“Lieutenant Rosevolt!” stammered Jerry, his sword falling back into its holster with noticeable clink. The sergeant’s hands went to his sides as he stood with his chest out and back ram-rod straight. “We’ve apprehended one of those Fallen terrorists mam! He was trying to infiltrate the city!”

The woman’s footsteps ended just short of the duo, her measured gaze sweeping over the crime scene. Hard eyes of bluest azure switched between the local militia and the Therian, analysing god knows what. Steel grated together as her gauntleted arms crossed over, a small huff escaping her lips at the obvious lie. The woman’s head tilted quizzically, cascading her braids just below her shoulder. “You two managed to subdue a Therian, just by yourselves? With what? Your cane? What exactly were you planning to do afterwards Sergeant?” she mocked, amusement creeping into her tone.

The sergeant’s stifled silence suggested he had taken the hint. Lying to a commander officer was a grave offense, punishable by the whip. No point in digger a deeper hole for yourself.

“Your cuffs Sergeant,” the woman demanded, holding her hand out.

Sergeant Jerry acquiesced without protest and unbuckled the metal cuffs by his waist before passing it to her.

“Thank you, Jerry,” the woman smiled sweetly. She allowed the militiamen to scurry aside; forcing literal in-takes of breath as they carefully manoeuvred their considerable frames around to make space for her.

April gave a slight shake of her head as she rounded on the Therian. “It hardly seems like you’re in a position to move, let alone fight, but allow me to warn you again Therian. Do not move. At the slightest sign of danger I will order these men to kill you, and though idiots they maybe, even an idiot can swing weapon,” April said without a shred of sympathy. To ensure he understood, she then crouched in front of him and made a series of hand gestures. First pointing to Jerry and Cantus, then pointing to both her eyes with two fingers, followed up with a point of her index finger at the Therian. Basically, they’re watching you.

After giving the Therian a moment to process the information, she stood up again and stepped around him. Pushing his back off the wall, she gathered his hands together, only to discover an unpleasant revelation. Upon tugging the metal which clung to his wrists, she felt disturbed by the complete and utter lack of movement. What she realised was the absence of friction was actually due to the fact that this Therian’s armour was a part of his flesh. Hiding her discomfort beneath a stubborn mask, April hoisted the Therian’s hands together and locked the cuffs securely around his wrists.

“Sergeant! I want you and your private to carry this Therian into the building across the street from here, 23rd St Kilda street,” April said after stepping away.

“Mam?” Jerry queried, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” April barked.

The two men hurried forwards, wrapping their arms around the Therian’s legs and shoulders before hoisting him up. They hauled him all of the way across the bustling streetscape before dumping the incapacitated Therian onto a cottage bed inside of the house. The house in actual fact belong to April, a dingy apartment that looked frightfully old. Flower motifs decorated the wall paper, or at least the scant portions of it that still remained. The interior itself was spartan and ill-kept, suggesting the place was barely inhabited. Dust was sprinkled over the floorboards in splotches of white, only disturbed by the occasional footprint. Every now and then a solitary piece of furniture marked the room, none of which possessed theme or sense. April took the liberty of binding the Therian’s limbs to the bed posts.

“You can return to your patrols men, I’ll be escorting Mr Therian into Headquarters as soon as he’s capable of travel. I just need you for one more job,” April said, hastily scribbling something down on a notepad. She tore off the page and then handed the note to Jerry, “Deliver this to Corporal Reginald for me, ASAP. He'll be at the barracks along 34th Amber street.”

“Yes mam,” chorused both of them before exiting.