Season 1, Episode 5 - The Boxtops XL - "The Cabot Shopping Center"

“Mary’s expanded her arsenal recently,” Lukas exclaimed in excitement, his hands making all sorts of happy motions. “Ground beef, tater tots, green beans, a dash of onions, and just a hint of love…and you got yourself a fantastic casserole. Love’s the most important part. Don’t forget that.”

Sitting across from him at their table, Elizabeth Pond Military Police second-in-command and radio operator Nikolai Dimitrij looked at Lukas with eyes belonging to a defeated man. His face had turned an ashen gray, his Cabot Shopping Center burrito untouched as Lukas regaled him with stories about his relationship with his doting wife.

“And desserts, too!” Lukas continued. “Sometimes, we’ll be out on the boardwalk down in Palmer Beach on a hot summer’s day. We’ll go the same ice cream shop, this dinky little thing, but the guy there understands. He understands love. We’ll take a seat on a bench overlooking the Atlantic. Every so often, my wife might giggle and dip her spoon into her own ice cream, stealing a little from me. It’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Dimitrij could only let out a groan, as if someone had stolen the soul out of him (which Lukas was more or less actually doing). “I…” he croaked out. “I got a gift from a lovely woman once. A nice lollipop.” He took a deep breath. “Then I dropped it into a dumpster.”

Lukas reached over and patted him on the shoulder. “That’s rough, buddy. One time, my wife made a pie and left it on the windowsill, and I accidentally knocked it over into our spice garden. Oh, but don’t worry, we made a new pie to replace it together, and it was wonderful…”

As a completely oblivious Lukas continued to torment Dimitrij, Osip returned his attention to his own table. As the new prospective commander for the Pond Free Corps, he ate lunch today with his outgoing predecessors - the Elizabeth Pond Military Police - to catch up. He knew the district had been the sight of a few dust-ups recently, and wanted to get as good of an idea as possible of the situation on the ground.

His own second-in-command, his old friend Lukas, ate with Dimitrij, while Osip sat with Captain Kelb nearby. Kelb currently stared deeply into his burrito, no doubt pondering what exactly made the burrito a burrito. That gave Osip ample opportunity to watch Dimitrij die inside, as well as scope out the food court of the Cabot Shopping Center.

Despite having been seriously wrecked during the State Police raid a month ago, the Center seemed almost as good as new. Only a few remaining cracks in the floor and a slight drop in the number of people provided evidence of the raid. Osip briefly glanced toward the food court’s exit; it connected to a large hallway, the main corridor of the Center, where shoppers mulled about, ambling toward their next store. Thanksgiving decorations - brown turkeys and plentiful cornucopias - dotted the Center, some of them drawn by local elementary school children (Osip chuckled at the memory of a newspaper picture depicting an awkward Shokahu standing with a bunch of children as he accepted their drawings on behalf of the district).

When Osip glanced back at Kelb, he realized the Captain had finished his burrito already.

“Not hungry?” Kelb asked, since Osip hadn’t ordered anything.

Osip waved a hand. “Intermittent fasting. Big fad right now.”

Truthfully, he was saving his appetite for his big date with Essex tonight.

“I see,” Kelb simply said. “So, what’s serving as the commander of the Pond Free Corps like?”

Osip raised another hand. “Unfortunately, not official yet. Right now we have Iyeguda leading the Technical Servicemen, handling intelligence. Ian’s the Principal of the Voc, overseeing militarized schoolchildren. Right now he also runs the Free Corps, but Stockham’s been tinkering with the idea of splitting it off under my own command.”

“I’ve heard that you ran mercenary groups over in Central Africa.”

A lot of times, the people who said that to Osip carried a bit of venom in their words, since mercenaries in the Congo didn’t exactly have the best reputation (usually, for good reason). But Kelb simply said it as a fact; Osip appreciated that.

“For some time I did,” Osip explained. “Then I managed to get a domestic assignment last year. And now, I’ve finally made my way back to the Pond. Hopefully, I can spend a year or two getting the Free Corps up and running, then transition into teaching.”

“Teaching?” Kelb asked. “What would you teach?”

Osip shrugged. “Not sure. I’ll be working part-time as a substitute down at the Voc for the time being. There’s just something about explaining a subject to people, helping them expand their horizons. Help them learn a little more about the world they suddenly find themselves in.”

He looked at his hands, scarred from years of warfare. “Right now, I guess the subject I’d be most qualified to teach in would be military tactics and history. That’s not the worst thing in the world, but teaching them to children rubs me the wrong way. At least here, the students in the Voc are fifteen or older. I’ve seen ten-year-olds lug around rifles through the jungle. I guess…not to wax poetic here or anything, but I’ve seen many of the worst parts of the world. I want to show students the best of the world, too.”

“I hope you succeed,” Kelb said generally. “We’ve used kids to clear out smuggling routes and centers these past few months. I know they’re Rddhi users, and seemingly mature for their age, but their psychic abilities makes you forget that these are still children at the end of the day. Fine young men and women, no doubt, but they deserve better." He sighed, since that was just life. "Ain’t that just the way?”

“Ain’t that just the way,” Osip repeated. A waitress came by with a cup of water for Osip. As he thanked her, he noticed two other waiters wheeling a long restaurant cart with two levels - fine silverware on the top level, a wide tablecloth covering the lower level. Osip shook his head, wondering if that was just another food delivery for their prisoner Stefano of the Restorationists, who ate more than he talked.

The waitress respectfully left the two soldiers to their business. Osip gestured with his cup toward Kelb. “And what about you? What’s your plan after this?”

This time, it was Kelb’s turn to shrug. “Not sure yet. The negotiations to rotate my men and I out of here have been complex. Colombo’s Dog Company had it easy - Presidential General Headquarters is simply rotating them back to the rest of their division within the Fourth Army.”

“Down south then,” Osip surmised. “Hunting down bandits in the Connecticut Wastes. I bet they’ll miss their peacetime assignment in the Pond.”

“Well, the Pond hasn’t been so peaceful recently,” Kelb supposed. “But anyway, I wonder if they’ll miss the camaraderie the most. Headquarter policy is to break apart companies assigned to city districts like that to prevent any conspiracy or sedition. They’ll be broken up and sent their separate ways along the border.”

“Will the same thing happen to you and your men?”

Kelb nodded. “We were due for a rotation out of here, anyways. Headquarters doesn’t like it when the same Military Policemen stick out around in an area too long as well. The question of the day is whether or not they’ll be sending in a new group to replace us.”

“Wouldn’t that create an administrative headache?” Osip asked. “Moving groups completely in and out?”

“That’s the point. It makes things more difficult for the Academy or other districts where they rotate soldiers. It’s the reason why we have so many jurisdictions and competing armed groups. All the in-fighting keeps the groups focused on each other rather than on Pulaski and the Presidential Administration. And if you have the right funds and connections, that’s not an even a hard-and-fast rule. Captain Firmino of the Fore River MPs has been running the show down there for a decade now. But that’s above my paygrade.”

He leaned in close to Osip. “You didn’t hear it from me, but I heard several Academy factories in Singing Beach were sold to a shell corporation that eventually leads back to Secretary of War Dietrich’s name. That might be enough to get the Military Police out of here for good - when my men I rotate out, nobody's going to rotate in."

“Would Chief Amien allow that? You’d figure he’d want to keep friendly forces here just in case.”

“Dietrich still runs the Army and therefore Military Police,” Kelb explained. “Dietrich still has some independence. As does Commandant Hill who runs the Military Police overall. The day that Amien gets his own yes-man in there, that’s the day we ought to be worried.”

Osip finished his water, sifting his thoughts through all the politics. Things in Central Africa seemed easy - shoot and burn. Here, he had a whole different web of issues to worry about if he were to take charge of the Free Corps.

“Anyway, are you hoping for any new assignments in particular?” Osip asked. “I heard an assignment to Androscoggin provides a fast-track to the top. Since the MPs run emergency response organizations too, maybe you could be appointed chief fireman up there.”

Kelb chuckled. “I’m much better at a firefight than a fire fight.” He looked out the windows of the food court, a long avenue just outside. “An assignment to one of the coastal mill cities up north would be nice. Something quiet. I’d rather not send any of my men into combat.”

“Interesting talk, coming from a soldier,” Osip quipped.

“In a perfect world,” Kelb answered, “Policemen would simply be policemen, and not soldiers.”

With that, the waitress came over with their bills. Osip and Lukas inconspicuously slid their tabs over to the two Military Police officers; with a sigh, Kelb covered the bill.

The four men exited the food court, then headed out the long hallway until they pushed through the doors and arrived on the front steps of the Shopping Center. Tall concrete columns held up the roof above them; a long series of concrete steps would take them back down to the avenue.

When they arrived down there, they all shook hands before a waiting Military Police truck.

“I still have lots and lots of paperwork to do,” Kelb said to Osip, “So I’ll still be in the district for a while. Feel free to stop in whenever you’d like.”

Kelb looked around the avenue. Hundreds of pedestrians went about their business on this fine autumn Saturday, all of their faces almost at peace. If it hadn’t been for the events of the last few months, they would’ve been completely at peace.

“We have good people here,” Kelb concluded. “Though, since you went to school here, I suppose you know that better than I do.”

Osip nodded. He grew up in a small farming village out west, but the Pond would always be his home.

“Let me know if you want any of my wife’s recipes!” Lukas called out to Dimitrij. The radio operator managed to give out a weak nod, then slumped his way into the truck. Kelb climbed into the passenger seat, and then the truck was off, merging back into traffic as it rumbled away down the avenue.

The two mercenaries watched it go until it disappeared around a corner.

Osip checked his watch. “We ought to be going soon, too. I got some paperwork I want to finish up before-”

He stopped himself. Lukas noticed the pause and gave a cheeky grin.

“Before what, I wonder?”

Osip ignored his prying and prodding questions, smiles on both of their faces.

The arrival of a new mercenary interrupted all of that. “Captain Osip!” he said with a salute. “We just got an urgent telegram. There’s been a break-in at the Academy.”

That stopped Osip in his tracks. Well, it actually made him bring the small group over to a secluded area within the greenery that ringed the Center. “A break-in?” he repeated once they arrived behind a row of bushes. “Armed robbers? Revolutionaries?”

“Can’t say for sure, Sir!” the mercenary continued. “All we know is that the two prisoners are missing. Jon the guard was on duty the entire time - they disappeared right before his eyes. Anything else - our money, weaponry, information - all of it is still right where it should be. They only took the prisoners.”

Osip rubbed his head. The two prisoners meant Jackson the New York smuggler and Shannen the revolutionary assassin. Could either of those factions have been responsible? Somehow, that didn’t seem likely to Osip. Osip wasn’t privy to all of the Academy’s secrets, but he knew that no ordinary robber would be able to break in.

It had to have been a Rddhi user, if not multiple. But he also knew that the Academy surely had metaphysical defenses to prevent such a thing. If these users were able to break in despite that, they must’ve been powerful. The New York spy linked Jackson and Shannen. He or she was the only one who would have knowledge of both - the smuggler since he was from New York, Shannen since the spy sent her on her mission in the first mission.

Stockham’s canary trap that caught Shannen wasn’t the most exact, but it provided evidence that the spy likely was a second-year. And no second-year had that much power to break through the Academy’s defenses - otherwise, the Academy would’ve noticed that power by now. Either the spy was incredibly good at hiding their true power, or someone else was involved.

Osip looked upwards, toward a particular window in the Center’s tower. There was another group with precise knowledge of the tunnel network below Elizabeth Pond and the intricacies of the city surface. They would be able to move around with ease. And there was also an incredible likelihood they possessed powerful users.

The Second Restorationists. Osip hadn’t met them first-hand yet, but he read the files from the raid of the Hayman Office Supplies store. They meant business. He wasn’t sure what interest they had in Jackson and Shannen, but he knew they certainly had business with Stefano.

“Create a perimeter around the Center,” Osip ordered the mercenary. “Try not to raise a panic, though. If anyone asks, just say Stockham will be making hand turkeys with schoolchildren there later tonight or something.”

The mercenary saluted and dashed off. Osip looked back at Lukas. “You’re with me. Let’s go check on Stefano.”

The two men picked up their pace, arriving on the concrete stairs and bounding up it. Osip caught Lukas up to speed on his theory.

“If that’s the case,” Lukas said as they entered the long hallway, “Then they say their leader, this Alchemist of theirs, considers himself a philosopher-king.”

“He’s nothing more than a mad preacher,” Osip said. “I’ve seen plenty of men talk philosophy overseas. At the end of the day, they’re only in it for money and power.”

They arrived at the elevator. “Either way,” Osip continued as he pressed the button. “I heard he’s smart. If his forces really are moving around the Pond right now, we need to be careful.”

Lukas gripped the pistol at his side.

They heard a ding, and the two men entered the elevator. Osip pressed the button to the top floor, and with a janky start, the elevator began its slow ascension upwards.

A moment later, Osip heard a huge crashing sound from the elevator roof, then a horrible sound of pulverization. His eyes widened when Lukas was no longer there with him. Well, he was there alright, but what had once been his body was now a simple pile of flesh, bones, and blood. Dead, just like that.

Osip involuntarily stumbled backwards, his back hitting the elevator wall. Lukas was dead, just like that.

An odd pile of sand covered the corpse; Rddhi sparked through it as the sand unnaturally ascended upwards. Osip followed its trail, looking with shocked eyes as the sand coalesced into a huge fist that had punched a hole through the elevator ceiling.

That sandy fist belonged to a huge man, over six feet tall. He scratched his chin and spoke in a slow voice.

“Shoot…wanted to hit...the Rddhi user first…”