James E. Carter
Carter kept moving.
The sandwich was gone, jacket slung over his shoulder, boots still damp from the river. The park had thinned behind him and the streets were beginning to shift in character, wider, cleaner, better dressed. That was when he noticed the bicycles.
At first it was just one pair of uniformed backs pedaling hard down a cross street. Then three more cut across an intersection ahead of him. They all seemed to be heading in the same direction he was.
Toward the embassy.
Carter slowed instinctively, stepping into the shadow of a narrow alley as a group of them passed. He watched the direction they were heading, he pursed his lips.
“Fuck…”
They weren’t sweeping randomly, they were converging.
He pushed off the wall and cut down the alley, emerging onto another side street, he looked both ways to make sure it was empty as he then sprinted across before anyone could look twice at him. He ducked into another narrow cut between buildings, heart hammering.
They were setting up around the embassy, he had become a rat surrounded by traps.
Corporal Kenz
The Langford moved at an even pace as Kenz kept both his hands on the wheel and his eyes everywhere else.
The Ambassador was speaking again in the back seat, something about trade balances and cabinet considerations. The Hunya girl listened, though her attention had drifted towards the windows more often than not.
Kenz had long ago learned to filter Crane’s voice into background noise. He watched the intersections instead. More cyclist officers than before.
Two passing in the opposite direction at speed. Another pair cutting across a side street. None of them paying the Langford any direct attention but all heading the same way, toward the embassy.
His eyes narrowed in thought. If Carter had already been caught, the police would not still be converging. That meant the man was still loose.
Then there was the car behind them.
Young men inside. They seemed loud from the backmirror, too loud. Laughing, pointing, making no effort to hide the fact that they had remained roughly the same distance behind the Langford since leaving the diplomatic quarter.
“Damn it…”
Kenz muttered under his breath.
They should have taken a hired carriage or gone on foot. A Langford, even one with the diplomatic trim hidden, might as well have been a parade float in this city.
He kept driving.
As they reached the opposite corner of Saddenter Park, he turned casually, letting the car drift around the curve. The mirror confirmed it, the other vehicle was following, a half-second delayed but deliberate. They had a tail.
He circled the park and at the main entrance, Kenz noticed the disruption immediately. A cotton candy machine tipped on its side, spun sugar clinging to the pavement like pink cobweb. The vendor argued animatedly with two uniformed officers and children scattered in the aftermath.
Hooligans by all reasons but it was recent.
Kenz’s eyes narrowed once more.
Carter would have avoided uniformed police at a park entrance, especially given this section led directly towards the foreign quarter. If there had been a distraction here… he might have slipped through during it.
“It was him,” Itzi spoke from the back.
Kenz didn’t answer, but he agreed, he took the next street toward the diplomatic quarter. There was a small checkpoint ahead.
Two Mittelander police officers flagged them down.
“Papier.”
Kenz reached into the glove compartment without a word and handed over a blue canvas booklet embossed with the Commonwealth seal. The officer flipped it open and saw the diplomatic registry number attached to the Langford’s chassis.
He gave a curt nod to his partners and handed the booklet back.
“Proceed.”
The two other officers shifted the barrier aside. Kentz immediately drove on as the officers once more set the barrier, that would hopefully block the trailing car. It was unlikely these lowly officers would know about undercover officers Kentz thought, nevertheless he sprung into action, not wanting to give them the opportunity to reconverge.
As he drove on he took a sharp right turn followed by left, right again.
Then he slowed and reversed neatly into a narrow alley, he cut the engine and remained still for a moment.
Silence.
“What is this?” Crane asked nervously from the rear.
Unholstering his pistol pulled on the slide to check if it was loaded, it was.
“We’re being followed,” he said plainly, “and the police are tightening around the embassy.”
Crane stiffened, gulping hard as he realized things would not be as smooth as he’d hope.
“If Carter was caught, they wouldn’t still be moving though,” Kenz continued, concealing his pistol back into his shoulder, “He’s nearby. On foot is the only way I’ll find him without drawing attention. Wait here.”
As he opened the door, Itzi was out of the car before he could object.
“No,” Kenz started.
“He won’t trust you alone,” she cut in, “He’ll trust me.”
Kenz studied her for a second, she was right.
Crane cleared his throat behind them.
“I shall remain with the vehicle,” the Ambassador said, “Ensure it is… available.”
Kenz almost snorted at that.
“Alright, keep an eye out then,” he said shortly.
They stepped out of the alley and onto the street, keeping to the edges, careful not to double back toward the checkpoint. After a moment, Itzi exhaled sharply.
“I couldn’t stand another minute next to that man.”
Kenz glanced sideways, that drew the faintest smile from him.
“You think that’s bad,” he said dryly, “I report to him.”
Itzi chuckled as that pair moved forward.
Ardell Commonwealth Embassy
Elvesland, Kingdom of Mitteland
A collaboration between @Thayr and @InfamousGuy101Captain Anders stood near the edge of embassy’s rooftop, hands clasped behind his back, posture straight. One of the junior guards beside him lowered a field glass.
“Police presence increasing, sir,” the guard reported. “Cyclists at both ends of the street. Two more just took position by the gate.”
“And the rear?” Anders asked calmly.
“The truck is still there. No sign of a mechanic. Two uniformed officers nearby.”
Anders gave a small nod. A broken truck in the alley, bicycled police in pairs. It all seemed too planned to be coincidence.
He exhaled slowly through his nose.
The ambassador had departed some time ago taking Corporal Kenz with him. He had informed him of the matter regarding a citizen in peril. If this was connected, it was moving faster than Anders preferred.
Still, this was Mitteland. Not some collapsing frontier state. They were a disciplined procedurally civilized people.
Which was precisely why this bothered him. He turned from the ledge and addressed his men as he walked off.
“No one chambers a round,” he ordered sternly, “Weapons remain holstered. Doors stay closed. No one engages unless engaged.”
“Yes, sir.” The sergeant confirmed.
Anders adjusted his gloves.
“I will inquire.”
He soon descended the front steps at an unhurried pace. A pair of Mitteland police officers stood near the edge of the pavement, bicycles propped beside them. One glanced up as Anders approached.
The captain stopped just short of the embassy gate, not crossing into the street without invitation.
“Captain Anders, commander of the Ardell Commonwealth Embassy guard.”
His tone was polite but firm.
"We've taken notice of the increased police activity in the vicinity of this building.”
His eyes kept locked at the two officers.
“If there is a matter of public safety, I would appreciate being informed. If not, I request to speak to who is presently in charge of operations here.”
The two men looked at one-another. Neither were particularly out of the ordinary as far as Mittelander police went, both in their light blue uniforms with shakos and gun-belts, batons hung loose to clatter against the leg. One man had a cigarette lit, held between two weathered fingers. The look they exchanged, though, was far less ordinary. The other man sucked in air through the corner of his mouth, eyebrows somewhat raised as his beetle-moustache bristled just a moment.
"Herr Anders, you should speak to the Sergeant on this."
He leaned a little forwards, looking down the road to the corner of the street, cocking one arm into an L and pointing. A small group, perhaps three or four men, seemed to be milling about the area, one standing with a notebook open. None of the men there looked particularly out of the ordinary for Mittelander police as well.
The man before Captain Anders, taller like a broken-up tree, took a long drag of his cigarette, nodding briefly. His eyes flickered about the street, quick and easy.
Anders did not outwardly react to the exchange, but the flicker in his eyes betrayed the irritation he kept at the apatethic demanor of these Old Continers. It was a cultural habit, he supposed. Still, it grated.
He tipped his head to the officers.
“Thank you.”
Without haste, he stepped through the gate and approached the indicated group. He stopped at a respectful distance from the man.
“Captain Anders,” he said again, “Commander of the Ardell Commonwealth Embassy guard.”
His gaze settled on the apparent sergeant.
“My men have observed an increased police presence around this building, including a disabled vehicle obstructing the rear access and officers positioned at multiple approaches.”
He paused just long enough to ensure the words landed properly.
“If there is an active security concern affecting this district, I would expect to be informed, as the safety of Commonwealth personnel falls under my responsibility.”
His expression remained neutral, but the firmness underneath was unmistakable.
The Sergeant looked up from his work, frowning briefly. "Sergeant Panayi," came the heavily-accented reply, the policeman surveying the Ardellian up and down through his beetle-like eyebrows. Yes, the man most certainly was an embassy guard. There was little to mistake it, all told. Scratching at his nose, which more resembled the ram-bow of a battleship than ought else, the man cleared his throat rather heavily before speaking.
"A violent criminal is known, Herr Anders. We have reason to suspect he is coming here. I would recommend your staff keep well inside during the issue."
A pause, the man smiling wryly. "As to the 'disabled vehicle' in question - we have already questioned that man. A vehicle in need of severe maintenance. The man was fined ten kroner, and as such I had to pay seven to the hotel lobby across the street, that he could call his company for a mechanic to come out with the parts. I'm sure his company will fine him as well for the trouble. A fucking headache, that."
Another pause. The man next to him puffed out a great cloud of smoke, as the one with the notebook looked up irritably before back down again. The Sergeant raised his own eyebrow, looked with some expectation at the Ardellian. "Was there anything else, Herr Anders?"
Anders listened without interruption, his expression composed as the Sergeant finished.
A violent criminal, coming here, of course.
He inclined his head slightly.
“Your forewarning is appreciated, Sergeant Panayi,” he said evenly. “We will ensure our personnel remain vigilant.”
His tone remained neutral.
“If there are developments that directly concern this building, I trust we will be informed.”
He let a faint pause.
“Good day.”
Without waiting for further exchange, Anders turned and made his way back toward the embassy gates. Once inside the building itself the the doors closed firmly behind him.
He moved to one of the front windows overlooking the street. A junior guard joined him once more.
“Sir?”
“Keep watch on all approaches,” Anders said quietly, “If anyone attempts to approach, you inform me first.”
“Yes, sir.”
Outside, the cyclists remained in place. The truck still idled uselessly in the alley.
Too convenient.
Anders clasped his hands behind his back again.
“I will send a telegram to the Mainland,” he said after a moment.
The junior officer hesitated.
“And the Ambassador, sir?”
Anders’ gaze remained fixed on the street below.
“We wait,” he replied calmly, “Until he returns.”
He glanced at the officer a second, “I will make mention of his absence in the dispatch.”
As Anders walked off the embassy settled into a tense game of watching.
James E. Carter
Carter cut across another narrow street, boots striking stone harder than he intended. He slowed once he reached the next corner, pressing his back to cool brick, listening. Everything felt heavier, as if the world was pressed around him, it pretty much was.
He exhaled slowly, his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. This was his doing, he had overplayed it.
Whether it had been fear, panic, or something uglier, he could not quite say. He had told himself it was about making things right. For his dead crew, his colleague at the airship, for promises that might never be kept.
Or maybe it had been greed and self-importance. The old belief that he alone could fix things if he just took control of them or maybe it was just justifying himself for his own richness.
He had wanted a fresh start for years, a clean slate. Leave the mistakes behind and let them sink like ballast into deep water just as he should have after bombarding an Iktani city.
Instead, he had proven he could not leave that past alone.
The gold had been proof of that.
He shuffled out of his thoughts and stepped around the corner only to be stopped dead.
A single officer stood less than a few paces away. Pale, nervous, and young by the looks of him. The pistol came up quickly.
“Zurück!” the officer barked in Mitten, “Back!”
Carter raised his hands slightly.
For a moment, he felt strangely calm.
This was it, he had run out of road.
The officer’s other hand fumbled for his whistle, soon it would be all over.
Then the crack of metal split the moment. The policeman dropped to the ground without a sound.
Carter blinked, stunned.
A sharply dressed man stood behind the fallen officer, pistol still in hand. A Harlan, same model Carter carried, but that detail barely registered.
Before Carter could speak, someone grabbed his arm.
“Carter!”
It was Itzi. She shook him hard enough to pull him back into himself.
“We have to move.”
The other man covered the street, making sure no more officers showed up.
“Now,” he said.
Itzi shrugged off her coat and wrapped it around Carter’s shoulders, masking the bloodstain. She took him by his good arm and pulled. They moved quickly, cutting down an alley and around the bend toward the waiting Langford.
“How did you-” Carter began, his breath uneven, “How did you find me? And who the hell is this?”
“Corporal Kenz,” the man answered without looking at him, “Half the city is looking for you. Consider yourself fortunate.”
They reached the alley. The Ambassador stood beside the car, clearly agitated.
“You took the damn keys,” Crane snapped at Kenz.
“Yes,” Kenz replied flatly, he had expected Crane would try to run if his nerves got the best of him, he wouldn’t say that openly however, “I did…”
Crane was about to retort when he finally took in Carter’s condition. The coat, the blood beneath it, the exhaustion etched into the man’s face.
His expression shifted.
“Mr. Carter,” Crane said, smoothing his tone and settling his coat, “I must say, you have caused a remarkable disturbance.”
He stepped forward, taking the man’s limp hand for a handshake.
“A decorated veteran of the Commonwealth reduced to being hunted through the streets. Rest assured, we do not abandon our own.”
The words felt hollow but Carter didn’t have time to think of it as Kenz cut in before Crane could continue.
“Inside, now.”
They climbed into the car and Itzi took the front passenger seat. Carter slid into the back beside the Ambassador.
The Langford roared to life and pulled away, Carter leaned forward slightly.
“They’re sealing the embassy,” he said, “There’s police everywhere.”
“We’re not going there,” Kenz replied, eyes fixed on the road.
Crane stiffened, “Then where precisely are we-”
“Your residence,” Kenz said calmly.
Crane turned sharply, “Absolutely not.”
“You committed yourself to helping him,” Itzi shot back, voice hard, “Or was that just another speech?”
Crane bristled, but he did not answer immediately.
“Fine,” he muttered at last. “But this is highly irregular.”
The Langford turned down a quieter street lined with uniform townhouses. They soon pulled up to a narrow townhouse with a modest garage set into the ground level.
Kenz stopped the car and Itzi jumped out immediately, helping Kentz lift the garage door. The car was soon brought inside and as the door shut behind them, the street noise dulled.
Crane stepped out and adjusted his cuffs, irritation returning.
“You have made quite the spectacle, Mr. Carter,” he said dryly, “The city is in motion because of you.”
He paused, then added with faint condescension:
“Still, the Commonwealth stands behind its citizens. We do not allow our people to be trampled by Old World absurdities.”
It was not quite reassurance but for the first time in a while Carter let out a sigh of relief, he was safe, for now.
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