Oliver Collins did not particularly care for the new government structure. He used to be a Tennessee senator; now he was demoted to “mayor” of Tennessee Refuge Base Gamma in what used to be Pigeon Forge. Once the world devolved into chaos, what with all the monsters he’s heard of attacking, the U.S. was the first to join the United Nations new governmental structure. He and his colleagues were not thrilled with the decision, but with how much the goodwill and tolerance of the populace had dwindled over the past few administrations? It was decided that discretion was the better form of valor in this case.
While the judicial branch of the government was left mostly intact, the executive and legislative branch were removed and downsized respectively. What, once, were senators and representatives were no more than clerks or department heads, if they were lucky. The unlucky ones, much like himself, were relegated to administering these refugee camps, and attempting to maintain some kind of semblance of the old world. Not that he could do much of that as the military were given the right to override his decisions if they believed they were, in the words of Colonel Johnson, “Completely fuckin’ asinine and only serves your own sense of comfort over reality.”
Oliver loathed the man but could do nothing about it. The Colonel was well loved and respected, not only among the troops but among the civilians as well. Honestly if the man weren’t so effective at his job, Oliver would have had more success in installing his old friend and confidant to take charge, but alas the military was always more results oriented. Now that two Inducted had appeared in this base Oliver found himself being ordered around as if he were some aide who had yet to figure out how to do his job.
The generals and higher ups at the UN headquarters were demanding information on one of the Inducted as if he would know it off the top of his head. Being told to wait while he sent some of his aides to get the info they requested only led to them screaming at and insulting him over what they deemed gross negligence of duty. As if he would waste his time watching the aspirant trials when so few succeed, that the likelihood of an Inducted showing up at his base city was close to zero. Mentioning that didn’t help his case, neither did the fact that a second of the Inducted was in his town, and the aide he sent off came back with the file for the wrong one.
‘At least the other Inducted was from a proper background and family. Even if he is Chinese and not a natural-born American.’ Oliver mused to himself. The young man was at least pleasant to talk to, he could probably sway him over to his way of thinking in time. The Inducted he was about to meet however, he doubted would be as amiable. The only thing the man had going for him was that he was tall and in good shape.
This…. Damian Campbell was from a lower middle-class family and looked like a thug. His posture radiated menace and hostility, and looked looked ready lash out at the slightest provocation. His clothes were in tatters and covered in what looked like old blood stains and other filth, that Oliver swore he could smell from all the way over here. What he could see of the young man’s arms were covered in tattoos, some depicting what Oliver was certain was some kind of gang allegiance. Oliver made sure to let the good Colonel, walk slightly ahead of him, just in case. This wouldn’t be the first case of violence against a politician for some perceived slight. Oliver sniffed disdainfully at the thought of getting to close this unpleasant young man.
“Of course, the only other Inducted had to be some low-class, homeless looking hooligan. Why it couldn’t have been another polite and sophisticated young man who survived, I’ll never know” Oliver muttered at a volume he was certain the boy couldn’t hear. The young reprobate seemed to glare directly at him, as if he blamed Oliver for whatever imagined slight, he could make up. Oliver couldn’t, for the life of him figure out why.
Damian heard the bastard’s muttering very clearly; the mayor wasn’t well known for his ability to keep his voice down. He glared at the overweight, waste of space that had, surprise, surprise, wasted his time. ‘Mayor’ Oliver Collins looked like a fat weasel with a combover. What little hair the man had left, was covered in some kind of greasy product, and instead of wearing something practical for the situation, the mayor wore a full three-piece suit. The man looked like he was going to have a stroke with how hard he was sweating. Damian considered seeing if he could throw the little weasel into a nearby water barrel and call it assistance, when the man next to the ‘mayor’ cleared his throat.
“Damian Campbell, I presume?” The Colonel asked. At Damians nod he continued, “I am Colonel Johnson, and this is Mayor Collins we are here to bring you back to city hall and get you registered. The generals at HQ also wanted to speak with you as soon as possible. Something about a way out of the barrel we find ourselves being shot in?”
Damian blinked, wondering how they could possibly know that, before mentally facepalming. He belatedly remembered that the trials were broadcasted.
“Yes Colonel, I have everything I need to conduct a ritual that should get us a very effective, and enthusiastic, mercenary force. But it would be best if I find out what the world leaders are willing to pay as a price, before making any decision myself.” Damian replied.
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“Damn good to hear, son.” The Colonel smiled, “I’m tired of losing good soldiers and civilians to these beasts. Hell, we had to turn the bars and restaurants nearby into a makeshift field hospital, due to the LeConte Medical Center being full. Any reinforcements you can get us is good enough for me. Come on, let’s get back and get all this paperwork done, we’ve wasted enough time as is.”
“Just a moment Colonel. We can head back in just a moment. The young man has gone through…... a traumatic experience, and came home to a monster wave. Let’s give him some time to decompress first. While we wait, why don’t we have a drink and chat young Damian?” Mayor Oliver said, in what he no doubt believed to be an endearing and reassuring tone.
To Damian, who just spent three hours patching up wounds that he could have prevented at the front lines, it came off as patronizing.
Damian glared at the toad of a man dismissed him, and turned to Colonel Johnson. “That sounds wonderful Colonel, I would love to get the bureaucracy out of the way, so I can start working on ensuring fewer people die while I sit around waiting.”
The Colonel snorted and smirked, before gesturing for Damian to follow. “You only say that ‘cause you haven’t seen the packet yet.”
Packet? Damian began to get a bad feeling as he followed the Colonel, leaving behind a spluttering, indignant, and very much ignored mayor behind. “Excuse you, I was speaking! And trying to take your best interests into consideration, you hooligan! Hey! Don’t ignore me boy, you will show me the respect my position is due!”
Neither Damian, nor Colonel Johnson, responded. If anything, they started to increase their pace to just shy of a jog. The mayor however, was forced to jog just to keep up. As they were at the Old Forge Distillery it only took them sixteen minutes to reach city hall. Upon entering the group was met with a flurry of activity.
People rushing back and forth between offices and disparate groups passing paperwork and memos before rushing off again only to answer a call and begin taking notes. It was exhausting to look at; Damian didn’t envy their tasks one bit. All this activity was to assess damage to the barricades and entrenchments, coordinate the removal of monster bodies, collection of bullet casings to be reused or disposed of depending on their condition, and lastly tallying casualties and fatalities. No doubt much of the paperwork being passed around was attempts to find surviving next of kin and ways to contact them.
Colonel Johnson led them back to a waiting room. Inside was a lone man sitting and twiddling his thumbs in boredom. Damian was stunned for a second, before breaking out into a huge grin.
“Big Lu, you bastard, glad you made it through!”
Lu Bufeng ‘s head shot up and grinned.
“Damian! You’re alive!” Big Lu surged to his feet and charged at Damian.
Knowing what was about to come next, Damian braced himself as he was swept up into a crushing hug. Big Lu was a hugger, which normally wouldn’t be a problem, but Big Lu, as his nickname should attest, is a very big man. Damian wasn’t short at six feet tall, but Lu towered over him at six foot eight inches. Add to that the fact that Big Lu weighed about 350 pounds of mostly muscle, and it was a painful hug before you added on the system enhancement from becoming an Inducted. With Big Lu’s enhanced strength, Damian swore he could hear his spine cracking like bubble wrap.
“I am so happy to see you are alright!” Big Lu said his accent becoming heavier in his excitement. “I was attacked by these weird fishman things. I swear, I will never be able to eat seafood again; the smell was so awful.”
Damian laughed, or tried to, it came out as more of a wheeze, “Air!”
“Sorry!” Big Lu dropped him and brushed imaginary dust from Damian’s shoulders in embarrassment. For all his size Lu was a gentle and shy man and got embarrassed rather easily. He rarely got this excited near people he didn’t know, but Damian supposed almost dying would do that to anybody.
“Don’t worry big guy, no harm done. Glad to see you too, but we can catch up later. We have a lot of paperwork ahead after all.” Damian gave Big Lu a warm smile and a pat on the shoulder to reassure him.
They both took seats at the end of the table, and took the “packets” of documents they were required to fill out. Damian shot Colonel Johnson the stink eye much to the Colonel’s amusement. The “packet” of documents was in reality four documents. One for basic information such as name, age, gender, etc. The second was an acknowledgement of their conscription into the military forces under UN control. An appointment to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel came with it.
The third was another acknowledgement of their duties as Inducted soldiers and a list of said duties. The fourth and final document was a disclaimer that the military and the UN government as a whole was not responsible for any damage they may cause to civilian infrastructure or property due to their new strength. They finished filling out the documents and passed them back to the Colonel.
“Now that that’s done,” Mayor Oliver interjected. “The higherups at headquarters have requested to talk to you Mr. Cambell. If you could wait while we get the call set up, it would be appreciated. And remember to show the proper curtesy please, I would hate to have your actions reflect poorly on our branch as a whole.”
Damian just flipped the fat bastard off, much to his vocal disapproval, and sat back to wait. After fifteen minutes, the video call was finally set up, and the Colonel dialed the line to central command. The call connected almost immediately. The screen on the wall showed a group of five generals, three men and two woman, and three pencil pushers, that were eagerly staring into the camera.
“Mr. Campbell,” the general who spoke had a very thick German accent, “I am General Krueger; after watching your trial I speak for all of us when I say thank you for giving us hope to see the end of this crisis. As of now we have located five portals, and dispatched some of your fellow Inducted to deal with them and we expect that number to increase quickly, soon.”
Damian gave a nod, “Glad I could help general. As you likely know, I have a ritual I can perform to attempt to get us reinforcements from the Norse pantheon, but I would like to know what terms I’m allowed to negotiate with them.”
