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Ribbon Stone
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"First of all, what is this 'hunt?'" you ask. "What exactly is ERIK trying to accomplish?"
>"A few months before shit hit the fan in Canard, ERIK had us all memorize this passage from one of his books. 'His spears will become her own, and hunt the wrongful master and all that is his unto death,'" Sam tentatively recites. He screws his eyes shut and thinks hard. "Uh... 'Blood will flow like water, and upon it she will descend. Thus EIRIS, the master's master, the spearman's shield, will exact justice...'"
>He opens his eyes and looks at the two of you anxiously. "What's he trying to accomplish? He's trying to go postal on this city, that's what. I don't know who his next target will be, but I know that if he stays loose, somebody else is bound to die. And if more guys from my company are in on it too..." he shudders.
"And he'd sacrifice his allies and reputation for this?"
>"Yes," Sam says without hesitation. "'Anything and anyone, for the mission...'"
>"But why?" STEVE asks, frustrated. "The war ended a decade ago. How could these assholes still be this obsessed?!"
>"It doesn't leave you easily, officer. The end of the war was a nightmare for the Advance Team," Sam explains. His expression goes blank as he recalls it. "For months we were hit with ambushes, artillery, bombing runs... Comms with our 'support' was a joke, and we were strafed by our own fighter jets more than once. We found out later that we had literally been left for dead--while we took on the whole damned country, the rest of the UCS forces just sat on the border and watched. A whole battalion, thrown to the wolves to stall for time. And after we bled to take and hold all that land, the peace treaty just gave it back..."
You absentmindedly finger the butt of your shotgun. That's enough to make anyone jaded for life, you think bitterly.
>"While our company was in it, it seemed like my brother and ERIK were the only reasons that any of us were still alive. We were all-in on everything they preached, we did anything they asked like our souls were on the line. That quote was like a mantra--we looked forward to the day when we'd finally make it out and go on the hunt, and pay back some of the fucking bastards that put us there to begin with..." Sam's own words seem to scare him. "I, uh... I'm just saying what we thought at the time. When the war ended, I got past that stuff. But a lot of other guys didn't..."
"Tell me about your company's hierarchy," you say. "How many of them are there?"
>"If everyone from my company who crossed the border and survived is in on it, there could be at least 150 vets ready to hunt. If guys who didn't make it that far get involved, maybe 200. I don't even want to think about the chance that guys from other companies would get roped in, too. For all of our sakes, I hope that I'm overestimating..."
This is getting better and better... "Assuming the worst, what would their chain of command be? Can you give me names?"
>Sam racks his brain desperately. "ERIK's the highest-ranking officer that's still alive. Not counting me, I remember seven other squad leaders that made it through Canard... Ronnie, WES, YAMA, SALLE, PAVEL, BRICK and ANDY could all be in. There were some others that ate it way before we hit the border, and I remember BILL got wounded and flown out right before we went over. Below that, it's just a lot of privates and corporals."
"I see... You don't know of any hideouts or safehouses, do you?"
>"I don't know for sure," Sam says. "When SABA and Miles came clean to me about being in town for the hunt, they mentioned that they were laying low on the south side of Wartown. But they also told me that I could tell you that, which might mean it's a trick..."
"I've been wondering about something else," you say. "Your sister-in-law, the prospective new mayor. Is there anything that she would back that he wouldn't?"
>Sam's face falls. "I've been thinking about that for a while now," he sighs. "I... I don't know. They're practically the same person when it comes to politics. But if the same person's going to end up the mayor either way, I just don't know why my brother had to die..."
>STEVE glances at his watch. "Shit... If you've got more questions, we should handle them on the go," he says urgently. "Whatever those bastards are gonna do next, they have a twenty minute head start. This is your case, 'boss'--what should we do?"
You ignore the sarcasm, check your own watch and utter a curse as well. STEVE's right--It's already 12:00. You try to quickly digest everything and figure out the best course of action...
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