As the Auclair police stood stationed in Southern Auclair, awaiting the tide of battle to come, a distant buzzing sound filled their ears.
"Commander LaCroix, something's approaching from behind," an officer called out, a note of panic in his voice.
Most citizens of Meteor Kingdom had never ventured far beyond its borders. As a result, the sounds of certain vehicles were largely unfamiliar to them. So when the buzzing grew louder and louder, many of the officers instinctively raised their rifles, expecting an enemy.
"I don't recall giving the order to take up arms," said Commander LaCroix coolly, his blonde hair glinting beneath the sun. "At ease, men. Our worries are ahead of us, not behind. This must be the backup Chief Nkosi sent our way."
The buzzing swelled, the anticipation mounting with every second—until at last, the source came into view: a motorcycle. The rider slid into the gathering of officers and came to a clean halt. Without a word, they reached up and removed their helmet.
"State your name and reason for being here," ordered Commander LaCroix. "If you're a civilian, make your way home or to the nearest shelter."
Without hesitation, Jackie answered, "Jackie O'Hara. I was sent by Chief Kota Nkosi to aid the southern force, then head west with Commander LaCroix once the fighting was done."
This is the backup the chief sent us? LaCroix narrowed his eyes. He knows we're spread thin—troops divided between the south and west, with others still patrolling outer sectors. But then he took a breath, grounding himself. No… the chief knows what he's doing. I trust him with my life. If he sent her alone, there's a reason. Something only he knows.
Jackie scanned the area, noting their defense layout. They had established solid cover positions for ranged engagement—enough to return fire and withstand a siege until morning, maybe longer. It looked like overkill at first. But then, something caught her eye.
She stepped closer to the nearest supply crate and picked up a round. Frowning, she turned it in her hand, then read the casing.
"Non-lethal?" she muttered. Her voice sharpened. "They're armed, aren't they?"
"From what we've gathered from civilian testimonies, less than half of the individuals are armed with firearms. The rest are carrying melee weapons. By law, citizens aren't allowed to possess guns, and live ammunition can't be used against them unless under special circumstances."
Jackie blinked, incredulous. "What's more special than this? We're literally being invaded. Who came up with such a dumb–" She cut herself off, remembering exactly who had written the law.
"That's true, Ms. O'Hara," the officer continued, "but we had to mobilize quickly. Using lethal rounds would've required clearance—authorization we didn't have time to wait for."
Jackie let out a frustrated sigh and scratched the back of her head. There was no use arguing about it now. "Fine. Was there anything else? Did the civilians say how they were dressed?"
"Yes, actually. One person mentioned the group was dressed oddly—fishing gear, nature camouflage, duster coats. That sort of thing."
Jackie's eyes narrowed. "Sounds like hunters. I think I passed a group of official ones the other day—part of the KHA, carrying signs and everything. If I'm right, they'd all be at the conference in the capital today."
She turned to LaCroix, voice firm. "I'd say I'm ninety percent sure these are Dread Hunters. And if that's the case, we'll need to use lethal force. No question."
"Ninety percent?!" the whole group echoed in disbelief.
Commander LaCroix stepped forward, skeptical. "Ms. O'Hara, it seems risky to authorize lethal force when you're not one hundred percent sure these aren't just angry civilians protesting about losing their hunting rights."
Jackie crossed her arms. "Look, Commander, I can't go into details, but let's just say the capital may or may not have pissed off the Dread Hunters by capturing one of them and shipping them off to Purgatory Prison."
A ripple of shock passed through the officers.
"You actually took one alive?" one asked, stunned.
"You managed to track one down?" another chimed in.
Jackie nodded once, letting the weight of that settle. "Yeah. And if that's true, then what we're seeing now is likely retaliation."
She turned, giving them all a moment to absorb that. Then, she stared ahead, eyes fixed on the dark horizon.
Non lethal ammo. Great. Not like it'd be enough to kill a Dread Hunter anyway... but it sure as hell would've slowed them down.
Turning back to the commander, Jackie asked, "How much damage would you say the non-lethals do?"
"Enough to knock a grown man off his feet. Maybe out cold if he takes one to the temple," LaCroix replied.
She paused, considering the options. This can still work. Even if they're all armed, all I really need is crowd control. People to keep them off me long enough to do what I need to do.
"By the way," she added, "I'm guessing the group in the west went non-lethal too?"
LaCroix shook his head. "No. Word is, the group heading their way was more heavily armed. That's why the capital decided to intervene."
"I see," she muttered. "Then we don't have time to wait around. We need to wrap things up here, fast."
She raised her voice. "Alright, men—gather what you can. We're moving up."
Confused murmurs spread among the ranks.
"What? Why?" one of the officers asked. "We're set up here. We've got cover and the high ground."
"And while we sit here waiting," Jackie cut in, "a more dangerous force creeps closer to your comrades in the west. Even with the capital backing them, people will die. We either hold the line here for comfort, or we push forward and take pressure off the others. Your call."
A brief silence fell.
But there was conviction in her voice—enough to move them.
While Commander LaCroix didn't love the idea of abandoning a fortified position, he couldn't argue with Jackie's logic. Every second they waited gave the enemy time to tighten their grip on the western front.
"Alright, men, you heard her!" he shouted. "Take what you can and begin advancing."
Just as the unit began to mobilize, Jackie called out, "Heeyy—hold up!"
One of the younger officers turned to look.
"You," she pointed, jogging up and pressing the keys to her motorcycle firmly against his chest. "I need you to deliver a message for me."