Trash: Chapter 94 Political Agendas (Patreon)

Chapter 94

Political Agendas

Only once the deafening echo of the last metal door slamming and being sealed into place with internal barriers did the true scope of just how messed up things were.

While my mind was panicking and trying to count how many people were all around us, Markan and Mr. Yi calmly and coldly laid out everything in quick succinct language that could only be performed after years of military service.

“A platoon sized element in here, meaning a platoon sized element holding the outside. That’s two platoons, or a full company for this engagement,” Markan spoke, his voice just loud enough to get over the rustling noise of so many people all working in unison around us.

Once the doors were sealed and barred from the inside, the soldiers responsible for those doors began going out to the stands and rounding up civilians that had inadvertently found their way in here. Even the ones that were covered under an array of glass shards were seemingly treated with care. To my surprise, those that went out were surprisingly gentle with the injured. Guiding those that could move on their own to a way station where all the people were being gathered, and triaged.

Bouncing in their hands were palm sized objects that reminded me of grenades. That is if grenades glowed with a green light. Perhaps seeing my gaze or just laying out more of the intricacies around us, Markan continued to dictate.

“Healing grenades, looks like they are half charged. Likely stock that is at the end of life and either needs to be replenished or used.”

At Markan’s comments, Mr. Yi added his own insight, “that means that their true impact isn’t for mass casualties, but for a specific objective.”

“Shouldn’t we do something?” Johny looking far more frazzled and anxious than anyone else was demanded. His voice cutting through the otherwise silent atmosphere of the arena and causing multiple people to begin looking our way.

“No,” Mr. Yi provided a one-word response.

“NO?” Johny parroted back.

“Yes, right now, they think they have the advantage by sealing off all our entrances and exits. We are currently outnumbered by three to one. Judging by the conditions of their weapons it is clear that they do not have a healer available, otherwise their healing grenades would be fully charged. That means that so long as we have a healer, we have the tactical advantage.” Markan stated and gestured to me.

“War of attrition,” Mr. Yi stated, though I could already hear the faint subtle shifts of his tongue and voice changing. A sign that he was preparing to go into his full Qūmóshī, demon killer, mode.

“A war of attrition?” Johny again parroted, seemingly unable to wrap his head around what was happening. Ultimately he was asking the same questions we all were thinking, or at least the ones I was thinking, but I knew not to ask too many questions, especially when it looked like whatever preventative measures the infiltrators had set were being done and being wrapped up quickly.

Looking at the doors, I could see what appeared to be trip wires set up, made to go off as soon as the doors opened inwards and snapped the cord, or at least removed them from their plating. While I was by no means an explosives expert, I had seen enough action movies in my past life to get the gist of what I was seeing. The idea was that they barricaded the door shut, then triggered it to explode when, not if the people from the outside broke in. A quick scan of the entire arena showed that all four main external doors were sealed with such explosives, meaning we were either all going to be killed off, or the army here had an exit plan in mind.

Seeing the gear and capabilities of the soldiers present, it was clear that they didn’t seem to be the type ready to lay down their lives for some glorious protest. As such, that meant that these people likely had a separate exit strategy in mind. Looking around, I looked to the entry walkways, only to find that a group of ten soldiers had come from the entry ways as well. The leader of the one new group, came over and spoke directly to a muscular person who had been content to just stare around and watch the other soldiers, and that’s what these infiltrators were, soldiers, operate. Given that everyone was reporting to him, and his general nonchalance at everything and the way he stared directly at us, I realized he was the leader.

Or at least, I thought he was the leader, until a pained Sal, saw not one but three people enter his little booth.

“Yo-you?” Was all a stammering Sal could get out, as he seemed to tremble and desperately cower backwards as he held his hand over the dagger that was still impaled deeply into his stomach. Seeing his state and the fact that he was able to move backwards showed that he was far more frightened of whoever was moving forward.

Then I saw him, well them. One older male with silvery hair and a face that seemed to be set into a permanent scowl. A hard face that seemed to show the effects of time spent in combat and harsh weather conditions. As he entered, two capable soldiers flanked him from a step behind. While they weren’t wearing military uniforms, it was clear that they all had military training. Everything seemed to be well coordinated and timed between them. No words were said, but the ground general, the one who had been watching the four groups work in unison around us, snapped to attention. A clear sign that while he had been the one in charge for the initial breach and the securement of the main arena, he gave all power and authority to this figure.

Just watching the older gentleman, I could feel an intense energy around him. As if he had is own gravitational pull that seemed to such everyone in and focus solely on him.

“How did you?” Sal continued to stammer out as his backwards progress was stopped as his body pressed into the lowest hanging metal bar that separated his booth from the audience below. As he moved forward, I could see Lucia and Luna both react to the entrance of the new leader of the occupiers. Yet, they could only stare on in wonder at the scene that was playing out before us.

“How did I survive your treachery?” The old man spoke, his voice booming and projecting loudly for everyone to hear. A faint and distant echo let me know that the words were still being piped outside the building. Or were once again shifted so everyone could hear. “How I managed to find you, even after you killed off my children, taking my only surviving grandchild and fleeing to the furthest part of the world. A place outside of even my control? Places where you set up ties and loyalties so deep that I had to stage an invasion into foreign lands, just to see even my own granddaughter?”

As he spoke, Sal just shook his head, his body trembling under the fear and intense pressure being let off by the imposing figure. While I didn’t know much about Lucia and Luna’s life before here, I knew just enough. They were evacuees from a fallen kingdom.

“Papou?” Lucia was the one to speak first, her voice tiny and nearly imperceptible over the barely constrained rage that came from the old man. Hearing the voice, the old man who burned with righteous fury suddenly stopped and turned to stare at the ring. As he turned he paused and seemed to lose most of the fire within his body. Only a slight gesture with his right hand was seen, that motion enough to let his two goons know to move and act.

“Pumpkin,” the old man responded, pain and anguish in his voice. He took a half step forward as the two goons moved to grab Sal and restrain him, causing him to wince in immense pain as they still hadn’t removed the dagger. I’m pretty sure Sal was likely aware that by removing the blade he could cause severely more damage if removed carelessly, which was why he kept it in. That or everything was happening too quickly.

While I was transfixed on what was happening at the announcer’s booth, I saw that Markan and Mr. Yi were still scanning the area.

“We just need to wait, once they realize we are in trouble, the troops will come in and put down these invaders,” Markan said, his voice barely a whisper, but it did fill me with a sense of peace, knowing that we would be saved shortly. It also explained why Markan and Mr. Yi looked mostly relaxed, as they knew reinforcement would come and we would be safe.

Seeing their calm demeanor helped me calm down, even though my mind was still racing.

However, things can never be that simple, can they. For almost as if hearing our muted conversation, the leader of this whole invasion spoke. Finding the microphone, he grabbed it and spoke clearly.

“This is special containment unit seven. We have containment on the first Death Eater. I repeat, we have containment on the first Death Eater. We have also found the initial entry point; it is none other than the traitor Salvatore Malocchio. We are closing communications at this time, and we will open communications once the monster has been eliminated.” The old man spoke, then with a nod of his head, he signaled to yet even more people backstage. If I had to guess it was the person who switched the communications to go outward.

With that there was a clear tension that began to build up. As all the relief I had been feeling about just needing to wait for reinforcements was gone. The outside didn’t know that we had already eradicated the Death Eater. That or even if they did, there was already a second Death Eater outside, which implied that there could still be a third one in here needing to be dispatched. There were also the screams of terror from the streets that seemed to imply that things were not going smoothly out there, either.

“Grandpa, why are you doing this?” Lucia asked, her voice nearly manic as tears could be seen welling up in her eyes. Hearing Lucia’s cry, the old man just paused for a second, before scoffing and seeming to smile. Not a jovial smile, but the one that spoke of having to tell a particularly gruesome event that can likely only be overcome by gallows humor.

“Let me ask you this instead,” the old man, this grandfather began. “Why do you think it is that Sal the traitor here never went for the enhanced viewing lenses? The ones that could find out if anyone is or has ever carried a Death Eater?”

Hearing the question, I paused as I wondered if even such a lens was possible? I mean, I guess since he is bringing it up, I guess there had to be a way to do it. Also, it kind of made sense as the lenses that were used caused the shadows to bubble and distort, clearly showing that a Death Eater was present. But was there a way to show that someone had willingly carried a Death Eater? Would such an invention even be possible?

Just as I was having these thoughts, the crew manning the lights, began to move and click new lenses into place. Taking a moment to look now, it was clear that all of the lighting crew members that had been attacked before were already bound, gagged, and put into a pile. A pile that had a subtle green mist flowing down over top of them. Seeing that, I imagined that is what it looked like when one of the so called healing grenades was released. Similar to my love fountain, but different as this seemed to be more concentrated and almost like the release seen by the final explosive burst of a Death Eater. Seeing the cloud, I wonder if these devices were created after witnessing the horrifying effects of Death Eater’s final explosions. Explosions that were designed to heal the wounded creatures nearby and infect them long enough to fully turn into more Death Eaters. Yet, before this thought could go too deeply, the old man continued.

“Yes, Sal could say, and likely did hint that the bottom line was too much. The costs for such a specialty lens were three times more expensive than the regular lenses used to find out where a Death Eater is, and he would be right,” the old grandfather continued, even as a new lens clicked into place and a now ten times brighter light seemed to shine over the general, his subordinates and even Sal. This new lens glowed brightly, and seemed to only cast the old man and his goons in a fairly golden hue. Meanwhile, what was present in Sal was something far darker, as his body seemed to glow with a deep dark purple.

“However, by doing so, Sal would also be able to hide the fact that these better lenses would be able to show him for what he truly is,” the old man continued. As he spoke, two members from the rafters began lowering a thick cord of rope. Rope that the goons used to hook around Sal’s bound hands and quickly hoist him up in the air. But only after removing the dagger from his side and applying a healing ointment to his wound. It wasn’t a complete cure at all, and he would still require more assistance to live. But it was enough to showcase his body that seemed to glow with an unnatural purplish hue.

Seeing him being hoisted up, I paused still unsure of what I was seeing. It was only when Markan and Mr. Yi both made similar but different religious gestures that I began to understand, what I was seeing was not something that should be seen on a person.

“As you can see, Sal is a confirmed Death Eater carrier.” The old man cried out. I was still confused, as it seemed to go through many people, but everyone around me let out gasps of fright. Kam was one of the loudest.

“How could you!” Kam cried out, indignation clearly evident in his voice. Looking at his reaction, I scanned the rest of the group and saw a myriad of responses to this sudden revelation. Angered cleansing from Markan and Mr. Yi, and the second opponent. Shock, hurt, and confusion from both Lucia and Luna both. Then the oddest one was the complete look of fear on Johny’s face.

“This makes Sal the most likely entry point for this outbreak,” the old man continued to speak. The more he spoke, the more I realized this was not about protecting the community, but an active witch hunt.

As bad as things appeared, I could only feel that they were just getting started to go poorly.