Sanctioned 5

Sanctioned 5

…

By Ichypa

Wordcount: 1000

…

The two Sheriff spat on my boot and levelled a glare at me that would stop a raging, roided-up superhuman in their tracks.

“You have ten minutes to tell me what the hell you want, before I kick you out.” But he was willing to actually speak to me, while the rest of the town glared at me, spread rumors, and spat at me behind my back. This man, at least, was willing to do it all right in my face. I was lucky to have him. “I ain’t part of the Feddie government or the State. I get my wages from city hall… and no one in city hall likes you.”

Despite the anachronism of his speech and actions, the Sheriff wasn’t dressed like a cowboy. Like any law-enforcement individual in the age of the superhuman, he was bedecked in a hermetically-sealed bodyglove overlaid with as much ceramic armor plates he could put on. He wore a bulky generator on his back with a cable hooked up to a slightly-less-than-legal Gauss weapon. Judging from his power supply and his four, shaped rods… he had about a revolver’s worth of deadly ammunition to complement his practically paper-thin protections. 

Anyone willing to stick there ass out with a badge in junk is good in my book.

And, I was definitely shit in their books, so I didn’t waste time.

“Just touching base. I’ll be out of town to hunt down some unscrupulous folk. I plan on doing that every day, until I can get pulled out. Hopefully, that’ll be soon, so I can fuck off and die somewhere else.” If my candor appealed to the Sheriff, it didn’t show on his wizened face. Given how he wore his armor, handled its weight, and had more grey on his head than anyone else I’d met, he probably had me pegged the moment I walked in. He was probably right, too. “So, every time I’m back and I’m here, you go ahead and tell everyone, alright? No muss. No fuss.”

“Well. That sounds just what a coward would do… which suits me just fucking fine. Hell, it’s the best thing I’ve heard since you killed the only bastard willing to protect this town.” He stopped aggressively checking his weapon, which I took as a little victory, but the Sheriff proceeded to try and approach me, presumably so he could see me easier. That was a defeat. A major one, since he was promptly restrained by forces beyond his ability to resist. A few, less well-made plates cracked and fell onto the floor. “What the Hell!?”

“Do not attempt to resist your restraints or I will use letha—

“Cease, Sanctioned. He was coming to shake my hand. Right, Sheriff?” He hadn’t been. From his stance, from the way he’d stepped, he’d intended to give me a physical affirmation of his thoughts and feelings regarding me and my lot. It was going to be a punch to the jaw, one that would’ve knocked me over, and left me battered. It’d have been good if it had landed, but with my Sanctioned that wasn’t happening. Yep. Now I’m a snake-tongued woman with poison in one hand and a lie in the other. “Let’s go.”

The fewer points of contact between me and the general populace the better.

…

The little town was surrounded by forest and hills. A few decades ago, while Americans were making highways across their entire continent, the town had grown prosperous. During the advent of commercial flights, they and many other small towns languished… and the rise of superhumans practically crushed all those that didn’t manage to get a few, kind-hearted folks blessed with superhuman abilities. They were little pools of civilization surrounded by would-be-tyrants and aspiring bandit lords, withstanding the tide of time with grit and blood.

Until the 1st Generation of Sanctioned came along and smothered everything remotely threatening. 

The current generation of Sanctioned is terrifying, the fist of a government that decided that world order needs to be maintained with absolute control of violence, and even those in secure areas would run the moment they saw one. Even in Europe, with all the petty kings and queens that arose, no one would go up to a Sanctioned willingly, even to give them thanks. They’re frightening weapons trained from birth to uphold world order.

Then, there’s the ones that came before that, that secured the North American continent by ripping apart anything that could hope to destabilize it. 

The official records are sealed and won’t be available for years, but the alpha generation’s a known quantity all across the states. On the coasts, they’re heroes that are whispered about. Those who guarded the Rockies and held the entire Mississippi, while ensuring the heartland didn’t fall, so that the world didn’t starve. For those who lived on the wayside on the frontline, they were boogeymen, faceless monsters that tore apart hundreds of men, and waded through lakes of blood. 

Technically, they’re all supposed to be inactive, but when you have an international asset with the world’s eyes on her trying to stabilize an entire region brimming with hostiles that would do unspeakable things to her when given the chance… 

“Officer, my teacher is here.”

I looked to the sky and through the clouds, a personal, sleek glider descended. The faint sound of a cargo jet heading for the East barely registered, as I waited on the strip of unused highway for my support who’s supposed to no longer exist. 

“You told me that he was here before, right?” I couldn’t help but ask a question I shouldn’t, while I watched the glider descend. Truth be told, I ought to have let the question die, but my curiosity didn’t allow it. “What’d he do here? Anything special?”

Even though his face was hidden behind a polarized, armored visor, I could feel the smile being sent my way by my Sanctioned. 

“Teacher wouldn’t want me to tell you since he’s shy… but he took this whole region all by himself, after he lost the rest of his team the first day he arrived.” Oh. That’s great. I don’t just have a veteran. I have one that potentially has a monumental block of PTSD on his shoulder. “He told me he never wanted to come back here, but I think the moment he heard we were in trouble… he came to help right away. He didn’t let anyone else volunteer to come along even.”

Never mind. 

This incoming, living atomic bomb definitely had PTSD.