Into The Rift

Voice of Dissent (10)

"Up, now!" Douglas yells towards the unarmed assailants.

I aggressively motion with my rifle to the exit, prompting the remaining hostiles out the armoury. All three comply without hesitation, making good impressions as newly minted prisoners under our care.

We exit the partially melted building without much problems on our end as we trail behind them from a respectable distance. I still keep my index over the trigger in the unlikely event this was just a ruse. It might be redundant on my part, but there is nothing wrong with keeping on the side of caution.

Once outside the tattered remnants of the base I motion to the three surviving soldiers with one hand, "Keep your sights on them. Anything strange and they'll get it from us."

"Move it bitch," Robert spats as he violently shoves one of the soldiers. The sudden push shakes the woman off balance, causing her to crash face first into the hard tiles below.

Ignoring the soft yelp, I place a hand against the shoulder of one of the remaining two, kicking the back of his legs to force him down on his knees. James follows through with the last, towering over the soldier with his rifle positioned not far from the man's face.

"Weapons," I announce, allowing the others to decipher the rest. Nothing more needs to be said given the situation.

"I'll keep watch on the three," James affirms, strolling to the front, "if they start doing wierd shit, I'll shut them up for good."

Getting into the business, I crouch over the nearest figure and sweep my hands across the man's metallic form, searching for anything of note. Near the base of his torso, my fingers brush against a leathery belt partially hidden by the plated armour. Feeling several distinct bulges along the rim, I pull out the belt sending a cascade of bottles tumbling out the soldier's person.

The bottles clinked against the tiles and I look up to regard the kneeling soldier with a firm sense of satisfaction. He remains silent underneath the helmet as I scrounge up a handful of the tiny bottles.

Inside most of them is a potent and viscous blue liquid, each filled to about half capacity. Much of what I could discern is focused purely on their physical aspects. I could only speculate as to their functions, though I am certain that field of curiosity will eventually be taken up by the researchers in the near future.

"Blue shit," I murmur, depositing the glass oddities to one side and resuming the body search.

Further down to the thighs, my eyes spot the gleam of several hidden knives tucked away neatly in the crevices of the leggings. I immediately grab the hidden weapons, tossing them out of reach.

After fishing out the last of their knives, I get up to check on the others. Robert briefly glances at me before resuming his efforts on the sole female with a little finesse while Douglas instead opts for a more standard display of treatment. No regards to personal space, and involving plenty of rough handling.

Robert speaks up, breaking my monologue, "It will take at least a week to clear up the mess." He stands aside, placing a firm foot over the female soldier's calf to keep her in place.

"No thanks to these fuckers," James remarks, vocalizing his sentiments, "so what now. We've got three of them as prisoners."

Glaring down at the frightened trio, I sweep in with a neutral answer, "That's up for brass to decide, not us. They'll come up with something appropriate I think."

"Or not," Robert quips.

With the assurance that the remaining attackers are unarmed, I lower my guard and focus on other aspects of their being.