Cadre Three, Albion Economic Prefecture, Sarlet District, Heragul Empire…Two weeks since the fall of Verlanda.

Kee-Lix-Hale gripped his rockhammer assault rifle tightly in his claws. His finger latched onto the outside of the trigger guard as he directed the herd of civilians slowly funneling towards him.

“Form up two single file lines if you want to receive your set ration of food!” Kee-Lix-Hale screamed, but his voice was consumed by the oscillating hum of the crowd.

A voice in his helmet questioned, “What is your status out there?”

Kee-Lix-Hale answered, “The crowd is getting quite restless out here? How long is it taking to get someone their weekly rations in there?”

The voice stated, “Slower than we would like. That is for sure. Everyone is pretty frayed over the fall of Verlanda.”

“Tell me about it,” Kee-Lix-Hale replied, “Hold on, I have a situation out here.”

Two other soldiers pushed their way into the crowd with one waving Kee-Lix-Hale over to their position.

As he approached the soldiers, a civilian’s yelling overpowered the surrounding crowd’s noise.

“They are running out of food! There is simply not enough supplies for everyone here!” the Heragul shouted.

Heads turned in his direction, tuning into his rants. After listening to the civilian, other members of the crowd conversed with their neighbors and the hum of the crowd slowly morphed into a new set of frequencies. Slowly the soldiers found themselves alone with the screaming civilian as the crowd crept back.

“Listen to me!” the civilian screamed at the crowd, “There is not enough supplies in that building!”

“Sir, that is not the case. We have plenty of food and water for everyone. Please calm down.” One of the soldiers responded.

The crowd’s hum and completely faded as all of their heads locked on to the disturbance. Kee-Lix-Hale stepped up behind the civilian as the civilian tore his hand from his pocket. A bright silver object in his hand flashed in the sun as it raced away from his body.

“Gun!” a member of the crowd shouted.

The civilian lowered his pistol towards one of the soldiers and the soldiers raised their weapons in response. Kee-Lix-Hale thrust forward, wrapping his claws around the civilian’s pistol arm. With a twist, the arm bone crunched moments after the pistol trigger was squeezed. A report burst from the gun and a scream answered before the shattered wrist released its grip.

Growing from nothing, a rumble overtook the crowd as they morphed into a herd of stampeding animals. Kee-Lix-Hale swept his leg out and threw the civilian to the ground. His other foot crashed on to the downed Heragul’s chest. More bones crunched as the civilian struggled to breath. Loud raspy breaths matched the uneven rising and falling of his chest. Kee-Lix-Hale pulled the Heragul back up to his feet, spun him around and jammed restraints onto his hands. It was then Kee-Lix-Hale discovered the scene around him.

The other two soldiers stood seemingly frozen in time. Kee-Lix-Hale slowly twisted his head behind him. One Heragul with blood flowing from a bullet wound rolled back and forth on the ground. Three others were sprawled out motionless in the wasteland of discarded personal effects.

“We need medics up here!” Kee-Lix-Hale exclaimed into his radio.