Conservation of Motion

-1036hrs The Tower; LitPol HQ Section 3-

Things had not been any easier in the past few days, not with some fool evading a patrol after curfew and those blasted Americans ravaging their peacefull city. Many were wondering if this was the forshadowing of a comming invasion by more of these cowboy like villians. There was, however, a way to stop this if they played it correctly.

Commandant James Patterson sat at his oak wood desk, donated to him by a local lumber company from a massive tree that had been cut down a few weeks ago. The desk fit his every need and want as it had just the right ammount of space to fit his proporitons, and the computer that was hooked into the nation-wide LitPol database. His eyes were sunken into his head a bit from the lack of sleep that he had recieved and he also had a painful headache that not even doses of Tylenol had been able to cure. But yet, he moved on, trying to figure out someway to free his city from this terror. The door to his office opened and a man in a dark black suit emerged.

"You look like hell," the man observed quitely. Patterson looked up from his desk and saw that it was his Chief of Operations, Lt. Luke Everstine. He motioned to a nearby plush red chair and Luke sat down without another word.

"What brings you here?" Patterson inquired, "Did those blasted Americans do something else?"

Luke shook his head, "No, they didn't do anything, and that's what brought me here. The americans have been rolling around the city for days now and suddenly they disappear? It's a very dangerous situation we have here."

"Do you think that they could be planning something big?" Patterson asked. He was afraid of the answer he expected. It meant more coffee and less sleep.

"Maybe, that's the problem with them being in the dark. We can't analyze their stratagies and find what they may attack next." Luke responded, "You see, we can learn just as much from them if they keep attacking as we would if they were just sitting out in the open planning their next step."

"So if they were to attack, where would they?"

"I would, unfortunately, have to say, right here."

"No, they wouldn't dare attack this place! They did it once and they almost failed completely! We captured 5 of their men, they wouldn't risk it again."

"Sir, we're talking about an enemy that doesn't care for safety here. They do whatever they want, when they want and where they want. They don't have boundaries except for the one that is evidently keeping them from killing or hurting anyone during their assualts."

"So what do you propose we do? Sit on our hands while they roam around unchecked?" Patterson asked aggressivly.

"That's a good question, but I have an answer that I believe you'd like. And we could make it look like the Americans did it." Luke answered calmly.

Patterson sat there for a moment in thought, weighing the pros and cons of the operation that would have to be carried out with very-fine precision.

The he finally spoke, "What are you exactly planning?"

1042hrs Safe 'Holding cell'

Somehow, from somewhere, Scorch had produced a harmonica and had began to play it. Well, if you could call loud screeching that pierced eardrums and made dogs howl in pain playing.

"Oh give me a home," he would sing before playing, "Where the buffalo roam," more 'playing', "And the deer and the antilope play!" He went on with his 14th song of the day.

Digger looked over at Trucker who had his ears plugged.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Trucker asked. Digger nodded and pointed at Scorch.

"Three, two, one!" Digger yelled. He and Trucker piled ontop of their friend and started to wrestle the harmonica from his grasp. The fight quickly engulfed the entire room as the others were inadvertently dragged into the fray. Afro, hearing the commotion, opened the door and saw the mess in its climax in front of him.

"Guys, hey, guys," He called out. The quarrel continued, "Guys,"

"Hey! Knock it off!" Someone yelled. The fight stopped in mid action, as they looked for the sound of the outburst. Asheyna stood behind Afro with an angry/bemused face.

"What on Earth are you doing?" She asked looking from participant to participant.

"Oh, just having... a, uh.... friendly.... discussion," Ninja explained as he panted heavily, "Nothing much,"

"Really? This is what you call a discussion?" Afro inquired. He had a totally bemused face upon him.

"Yeah, this is... how we... solve our differences... and how we solve bad... harmonica playing." Trucker answered. He held Scorch in a triangle choke as Digger was positioned to get the harmonica.

"Really? Because last time I noticed, this room isn't a wrestling mat. Now will you stop please?" Ash asked/ordered them. They all disengaged and disentwined from each other and returned to their previous positions.

Ash looked at them all, then turned and sat back down without another word. Afro looked at them for a second, then closed the door as he turned to sit down too.

There was a silence that floated over the group as everyone was waiting for something to happen.

"Now what?" Scorch asked plainly.

"If you say Rock, Paper, Scissors, I will kill you on the spot." Trucker replied. They all smiled and relaxed.

"No, I was thinking of a tea party, what else do you think I was going to say?" Scorch inquired rhetorically.

"Dress up/Sleep over?" Digger suggested from his bed. They laughed at the idea of Scorch doing that.

They went back to their silence again, but not for long.

"Wanna try and get out?" Digger asked. Ninja shook his head.

"No, heck no. We've got a roof over our head. Do you want to trade that with being fugatives without a home again?" He questioned. They all agreed that this was a better situation than the previous ones.

"Well, could we ask for this darn ZipTies to be taken off? My wrists are chaffing!" Bugger said.

Spockeh sat in a thoughtful silence, What if we could get back outside? What then? He wondered, Probably get back to doing what we do best: Fight the man. But how?

The End

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