Chapter 26: Lines of Communication
The Devils sat in the trenches, or on the porch of the house. After Sauce’s outburst, the entire lot had been rotated off patrol, despite being the
least torn up squad. Instead, they were stuck on garrison duty. They sat around, trying to make the best of it. Deus’s arm was still in a sling, and
the entire lot looked right awful. Half of the ten were swathed in bandages, and most veered away from Sauce, who just sat numbly on a lawn chair,
armed with only his pistol. Everyone watched him carefully. The air was beginning to cool with fall’s coming as they sat or stood there. DE had staked
himself out a chair, and had decided to sun himself a little, despite the dropping temperature. Beside Deus, Gothique shivered. She had refused his
jacket, so he continued to regard her as she pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin on her knees.
They sat been sitting there for hours, chatting idly. Sometimes, they got up and stretched, but for the most part, they either walked the trenches or
just sat around. Two days of this treatment had rendered the entire squad bored and insulted. Many turned their ire towards a quiet Saucerat.
Gothique, too, had been having trouble with him of late. She had come to him in the dead of night, keeping him up to talk through her problems. DE
didn’t mind, but he felt kind of guilty for interfering in their relationship in so many ways.
The third day on duty was the day it changed. Gothique had barely curled up when motors sounded in the distance. Thinking it to be a convoy of their
own vehicles, the Devils continued resting. Almost every day, a small group of vehicles raided the town for much-needed food and supplies. Before they
knew it, a small band of trucks and motorcycles blazed into the clearing before the trenches, people hanging off any place they could. Most were armed
and were howling with glee as they clung to the cars and trucks like extras form a Mad Max movie. As soon as DE saw one of them level a sawed off at
his crew, he was in motion. The devils uncoiled almost simultaneous, drawing pistols and snapping off shots as fast as they could. Almost all were on
one knee, guns half empty before the looters had Mad Max rejects had time to return fire. Three men were knocked off their motorcycles by the hail of
lead, sprawling onto the ground. The lead pickup’s windows starred, rolled to a halt. The rest of the looters screamed and fled as quickly as they
came.
The Devils looked at each other, making sure that no one was hurt. Sauce seemed okay, as did everyone else. However, it was deadly silent out. The
only sound that was heard was the roll of shell casings along the boards of the porch, or the clink of metal when they touched. Nervously, Deus called
it in, and sat back down to let other do the cleanup work. As warriors, they were ‘above’ it.
About an hour later, the Devils once again heard the crunch of tire wheels and rumble a of single engine. They all drew their weapons, taking what
cover they could. What came around the bend in the road surprised everyone- a large, black ultra-clean limousine. It was a Mercedes Benz model, as
fresh as if it had just come off the production line. It maneuvered its way past the human wreckage and broken machinery, rolling to a stop quietly
thirty feet away from Deus and the rest.
The door popped open, and a man emerged, smiling. He looked every part the businessman, dark brown hair slicked back and silvery-grey suit perfect.
Despite the levelled weapons and hard faces of Deus and his crew, the man easily jumped the trench, not so much as smearing his expensive loafers.
Smiling still, he walked up to ten feet, briefcase at his side.
“Hello, my name is Mr. Morden. Can I speak to whoever’s in charge, please?”
Deus just starred in disbelief.
Yes, a quick intro to the next arc. I will update Wenesday as well. And anyone who recognizes the name, yes, the character is basically the same. I
didn't want there to be any...confusion.
DE