Battlefield Regulation 12 – Pretending to be a Tourist is Safety

The last time I thought something along those lines I managed to jinx us. I shake my head sharply as if to clear that potential bad luck from us. Thinking like that isn’t helpful to the mission either, and I need to be more mindful of it.

Rehema leads us to a food stall that’s a good distance away from where we’d stopped to rest. I wonder how they knew which one to pick or if they’re picking one at random based on the distance. That seems less likely, considering the fact that they’re giving the food at the stall – a bunch of kebabs, carefully separated by type – a serious look. “Eight total. Two of each of these.” they point at specific ones. “Please.”

“Oooh you know exactly what you want, don’t you dearie?” the stall keeper – an elderly woman whose feed presence is locked down under ‘private shopkeeper mode’ – smiles warmly and pulls out four cone shaped wrappers. She’s very careful not to let kebabs of different types touch one another, settling the two each into the wrappers. “Consider them on the house. I know this city loves to squeeze everything it can out of visitors.” the corners of her eyes crease with her smile as she passes the wrappers over.

Rehema takes them, passes three out to each of us. “Thank you.” they say, offering a tight smile of their own. I’ve seen that smile a few times; I still cannot tell if it’s a genuine one or not but it’s enough to make the stall keeper duck her head and wave one hand like she’s embarrassed by the consideration.

Why would a thank you be embarrassing…?

“Are you sure? We can pay.” Chaisee’s looking at the kebabs like they’re a piece of art, slightly wide eyed.

I take the time to consider my own. They’re put together amazingly well. There’s nothing on mine that’s dangerous to me, and food that takes differing cooking times seems to have been minded with an expertise that even I can appreciate.

The stall owner’s ears flick back for a second and there’s a stamp on the ground that sounds a whole lot like a solid hoof. “I said they’re on the house.” she says, lifting her chin and looking each of us in the eye in turn. She holds each of our gazes just shy of a challenge before landing back on Chaisee.

Who puts her hands up in surrender. A little bit of lettuce tears off from the quick gesture, floating down and landed atop Chaisee’s head. “Alright, alright. If we’re still hungry after this, then we’ll come back and you will let us pay.” the club on the end of her tail thuds against the ground.

Are… are the two of them posturing at each other? Or are the thuds just emphasis? I glance to Rehema for any clues and only find mild amusement on their face. Sara, meanwhile, looks as confused as I feel.

There’s a tense stare-off, tense jaws, tense body language. Posturing, then. I open my mouth to interject when the owner of the food stall nods. “Fine. But! You’ll not get away with trying to sneak and pay for these ones.” she gestures at the kebabs we’re holding. “And if you try, I reserve the right to shove more food at you.”

Chaisee snorts, then nods. “Agreed then.” she says. And then she pivots and starts walking towards a table that isn’t very far away. Rehema and Sara follow.

I linger for a moment. “These are very well put together kebabs.” I offer. “I can tell you put a lot of love into this craft.” it’s – listen, I’ve been doing a lot of research on olive branches. I’m bad with people. But olive branches can smooth over a lot. Perhaps even any lingering bad feelings from the stand off.

The old woman laughs, warm and bright. “Oh you’re a sweet one. Thank you honey, I do my best to make sure folks of all walks get fed. This city’ll eat newcomers and oldies alike if we let it, and half the stalls out here don’t give a damn about how different folks food needs can be.” she reaches over and pats my hand. “Y’all be careful about that, you hear me? Last thing y’all need is for one of y’all to get stuck in the hotel and missing all the races.”

…I don’t understand why she’s patting my hand. Is this a code or signal? She’s done it while telling us to be careful, which muddles things further. The old woman doesn’t look to be someone who is in contact with the LAGOON, but we’ve been told that sometimes food venders are a good disguise so…

“You should join your friends, they look worried.” she says, nodding at where Chaisee, Rehema, and Sara have all gotten settled.

“Oh, right.” I put on an affect of being startled and confused by the words. This is aided by my trying to figure out what all of that was. “Thank you again.” I add with a nod before I go to join the others. On the way over I finally take a bite from one of the kebabs. It’s delicious. I make a mental note to come back sometime.

Chaisee is pouting at Rehema, who is ignoring her and doing something on their phone. Sara, meanwhile, is focused on her kebabs to a degree that she’s radiating ‘I am not in this’. I’m not sure I want to be in this, but I need to make sure that my team isn’t facing difficulties.

“Is everyone alright?” I ask. I’m aware of how concerned I sound, right out of the gate. Maybe that sliver of honesty will help in this case, even if I immediately want to take it back.

Chaisee takes one look at my face and then huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah we’re fine. I was pouting at Hema taking my job about food. Then they pointed out that getting food helps with our cover an’ also taking care of ourselves so all I can really do is pout.” she explains, starting to grin as she speaks. “Plus it does get suspicious if the same person handles the same thing all the time, or at least that’s what the mini Kali in my head says.”

I can’t resist the huff of a laugh of my own. “Point.” I say. “And good, I wanted to check in with all of you.” And then I take another bite of my kebabs. They really are good, putting truth to the words I said before. We don’t have time to stop and enjoy them given the pressing needs of our mission and the passage of time, but I concede to myself that a few minutes can’t hurt.

It does help with our cover. We look like everyday tourists just here to get a taste of the races. We’re following all of the regulations that the class series on blending in with grounder folks gave us.

But I still feel uneasy.

There’s nothing in the thinning crowd of people that’s making me feel that way, and there’s nothing in the surroundings. I just… I feel uneasy in a way that I can’t shake. Like there’s something looming just out of sight that I can only see the reflection of. There’s no basis for that so I try to put it out of my mind.

…I had not prepared for the possibility of Yilmaz being here and shoving down the uneasiness allows that thought to surface once more. On the one hand, why would I have prepared for something so unlikely? Yet on the other… a not so small part of me feels like I should have anyway. I was preparing for as much as possible and I know that the Duce was likely angry with him. Of course he went to the ground.

There is the possibility that the Duce means to have us deal with him as some kind of backward test of loyalty. …No, that’s unlikely. I take another bite from my kebabs and shake my head. Jumping to conclusions will only end poorly.

Whatever else is going on – between Yilmaz, the sigils, the suspicious way that folks are acting – we are still on a mission to decide if we’re taking the assassination mission. A redundancy. A safety net. I can hope that we won’t need it while preparing just in case we will. On that note I need to work on an exit plan, where to go that’ll get us out of danger.

Nobody speaks as well all tear into our kebabs. Our bodies helpfully remind us that we haven’t eaten since before getting on the transport. Hunger assaults us with a vengeance and we do wind up buying another set of kebabs from the vendor. Chaisee even holds to her word about not trying to sneak pay for the first set, which gets us all treated to a warm smile from the vendor. She pats Chaisee’s hand this time as she speaks after giving us the kebabs. “You ladies might want to get moving this time. Much as this old lady enjoys watching folks enjoy my food, nightfall’s coming and I need to pack up. Don’t be here when the fountain stops showing colors, okay?”

“What do you mean?” Chaisee asks, stepping forward, leaning over the edge of the cart.

The vendor doesn’t elaborate. She focuses on packing up, shoulders stiff and lips pressed together in a thin line.

“We should go.” I say, before Chaisee can press the issue any further. Out of the corner of my eye I can see the relief out of the vendor. “We still need to stop by the store and make sure we’ve got stuff for breakfast before we head to the hotel.” the further indication that we have somewhere else to be brings another line of relief to the vendor’s shoulders.

Rehema clocks it. They jerk their head in a nod. Sara swallows, thick and nervous and half exaggerated – but it gets through to Chaisee all the same. She puts a hand on Sara’s shoulder, squeezes, and nods.

“Thank you ma’am.” Chaisee’s voice is chipper and bright. The words come with a little mock salute as she takes a step back and steers us towards a store that’s still open. Several of them have closed while we ate our first set of kebabs; we eat out second set while we walk. Once we’re out of earshot, Chaisee speaks around a bite of her kebab. “Something really fucky is going on here. I almost want to stick around long enough to figure it out.”

“Mission first.” I say, like a hypocrite. Like I’m not still absently scanning for signs of Yilmaz despite how quickly the plaza has emptied. My tail ticks back and forth without my input. Still, all three of them nod and drop it. We make a very good team. I wish it was under better circumstances.

The store that Chaisee saw doesn’t appear to have a name at all. The large sign simply says STORE in all caps. As I gaze at the signage, I realize that there is another word – currently hidden under tarp. Strange.

Rehema leans against the wall outside of the store while Chaisee and Sara go inside. I wind up sort of hovering there with Rehema uncertainly until they jerk their head at the store and mutter “Go.”

This very neatly solves my question of where I fit. I’d wanted to follow Chaisee to begin with but the worry that I would be showing a lack of trust stopped me cold. Now I have Rehema’s… blessing is not quite the word I want, but it’s close enough.

I don’t go to catch up with the other two immediately though. There’s time enough for that after I have a chance to meander the store and try to keep my thoughts in line. It’s showing more and more how the three of them know each other and how much I have to learn and there’s a feeling I don’t know how to unpack settling in my chest.

I need to learn all three of them and I need to do it faster than I have been. I’ve worked on it while we had that down time. It doesn’t feel like enough time, enough knowledge… enough.

Then again. It has never felt like enough with Yilmaz and I’ve known him since childhood. Perhaps I simply will never feel like it is enough. I heave a sigh and look for anything that might drag my attention away from the circles my thoughts want to run in.

…I find a candy bar. It’s in a bright blue package with a cartoony horse rearing beside the name of it in white text: Knukyrn Fried Chocolate. Smaller text just under the name reads now with real chocolate!

Now with real chocolate? But. But the name has chocolate in- are grounder food regulations different? On the LAGOON you have to prove that a food is in your product in order to use the name of it. This… this implies otherwise doesn’t it? Or am I overthinking? Maybe it’s an inside joke about the chocolate? A quick search for the name of the bar shows me a whole court case and I shake my head as I drop the digging into it. Just a curious civilian.

On a whim I pick of those brightly wrapped bars and take it with me as I track down where Chaisee is with the basket that she’s been stuffing supplies into. I glance at said basket and the fact that she’s got Sara carrying one as well. I say nothing about the abundance that Chaisee’s grabbing. I had half a mind to do the same once I was done wandering after all. If nothing else, it’s clear that we’ve walked into a powder keg in the making and there’s no sign of how long the fuse is or if it’s already lit.

Chaisee looks at the candy bar. Then at me. Then back at the candy bar. I watch her lips form the words ‘now with real chocolate’ and her eyebrows crease together. She nudges Sara, who goes through the exact same motions. At least we’re all on the exact same wavelength when it comes to this apparently court case worthy candy bar. That’s heartening.

After a moment Sara says – “…I don’t think I want to know what they were frying if not chocolate for this.”

“Might as well see if it’s any good.” Chaisee says right after, shrugging and taking it from me to add to the basket that she’s carrying. “Fried chocolate can be good, though I’m not sure how it holds up like this.”

I nod. “Should I get another?” it isn’t a large candy bar and that’s one of those questions that I always read people saying when in situations vaguely like this one.

“Yeah, get three more – that way if we like it, everyone can have their own.” there’s a quirk to her lips that throws me for a moment before it clicks.

Right now we’ve got the mission funds card to use. Our (traitorous, dangerous) LAGOON has to pay for whatever we get right now. I’ll be messaged on the feed to confirm the cost was for the mission; there won’t be an itemized list. Mao’s LAGOON isn’t responsible for us yet.

I nod and go get three more.

It feels a victorious kind of petty. I let myself have a little grin as well and for a moment I forget that we’re so out of place here that a candy bar tripped me up. On that little trek to go get the extra candy bars, I’m simply a person spending someone else’s money after they wronged me. Everything crashes back to reality soon enough when I return to Chaisee and get slammed by the urge to check what she’s collected. I breathe and shove it down; I hadn’t really prepared for how surreal it would feel to try to trust someone else to handle the supplies.

Trust is a difficult skill and it’s one that I still need practice with. Chaisee has not given me a single reason to suspect anything untoward and I refuse to reward that with being suspicious. I hold on to that refusal as I follow mutely while she goes for a few more things. Managing that has to count for something.

Nothing else jumps out at me as something worth note, so we finish up gathering supplies and food quickly after that. Checkout goes smoothly; the cashier scans our items silently without a word and none of us say anything in return. …Aside from Sara, who waves enthusiastically on the way out and shouts back a wish for an easy rest of the cashier’s shift. That gets a surprised smile out of the cashier and a wave in return. I’d consider that not a bad call if I thought Sara had done it for the sake of the mission, but I know her well enough at this point to know that she’d done it simply for being kind. Her kindness is something I keep turning around in my head with curiosity. By this point I’m well aware that it’s not an act, but knowing what I do of her past how-

Analyzing my team is unwise.

We reunite with Rehema who holds out their hands in a wordless demand. I even understand this gesture and hand over a couple of the bags I’m carrying. As a group we fuss with the bags until they’re situated and no one is overburdened. This requires less talking than expected.

I remember why shortly after that. The three of them have done this plenty of times. I am the new piece of this. This time I’m prepared for my mind to try to find a circle to chase itself in, so I make myself look for details and things of note as we walk. If I happen to also be looking for potential signs of Yilmaz… well, it’s not like I’m detracting from the mission to do so. As it is there really isn’t much new for me to notice. A little while after we leave the courtyard the horse shaped bricks give way to more conventionally shaped ones.

And… that’s it, really. Nothing even interesting enough for me to bring up to the others. They’re silent as well and I cannot tell if that is because they’re attempting to follow my lead or if they really do have nothing to talk about right now. The bricks aren’t enough for me to break the silence for.

Up ahead now is the hotel. It’s… large. The front is painted black with white outlines of racing horses and there’s a statue of a rearing horse with a placard in front of the place. Some famous horse, I assume. Mx. Jones is waiting outside of the hotel in the same clothes as earlier and splatters of plant juice in some places. Their left foot is tapping rapidly and their expression is furrowed. Eyes widen at our approach, drop to the bags, and understanding dawns. Mx. Jones heaves a huge sigh.

“We did mention supplies…” Chaisee says, holding up the bags on her own arms.

If she’s expecting an actual reaction from Mx. Jones, then we’re all disappointed. Mx. Jones grunts and pivots on their heel. “This way.” they say like Chaisee said nothing at all. They stalk into the hotel like the place has personally wronged them.

When I don’t move immediately, neither does my team. Mx. Jones notices this only when they’re half inside the hotel’s doors. They make a face at me that I ignore. Just walking straight in is a risk that I’m unwilling to take.

“This way.” Mx. Jones repeats, upper lip twitching like they’re about to bare teeth.