The Hiding Sun

    Returning to an earlier time of this day, round about the time when Colin was just starting to load up the bodies of British soldiers for the unusually eventful ‘Final Job’.  In a different part of the city, at the British Army’s main encampment, General Edward Wilson was sitting in his large command tent with his officers, discussing a strategy for clearing out the city of the last remaining Para-militia as the sound of rain smacking on tarmac swirled around in the world outside.
    “This Para-militia remnant are poorly organised,” the General began.  “They have no leader, no real purpose anymore; they’re not even in direct contact with each other anymore.  They are no real threat, they’re not really an army anymore, just another band of criminals and I say we treat them as such.  Start letting any residents who wish to return to their homes do so, but we should still have an effective presence within the city in order to root out these last few combatants.  We mustn’t forget that they are still in possession of very dangerous weapons and every step must be taken to apprehend these men.”
    None of the other military officers at the table inside the tent made any real audible words, instead there was just a lot of nodding and general murmurs of agreement.
    “Now that we have control of the city once more we need to set about reinstalling the police and the Scottish Parliament,” General Wilson continued.
    “We might not need to,” one officer interrupted.
    “What do you mean?” Wilson said.
    “The vote to join the reformed European Union was this morning.  Who knows?  There may be no need for Parliament.”
    “Don’t say such stupid things?” Wilson said.  “We’ve got serious work to do.”
    “I’m just saying it’s a possibility.”
    “Stop being so ridiculous,” Wilson said.  “It’s not a possibility.”
    “What makes you so sure?”
    “I think you forget who you’re talking to,” Wilson said.
    “Sorry sir.”
    “Now back to the plan,” Wilson started and then turned back to the officer.  “The reason it’s not even a possibility is because there’s no way the people of this country will hand over control to a foreign power that doesn’t even know how to govern properly.”
    “That could also be said about our own government.”
    “Know your place,” Wilson said.  “I won’t have that kind of talk among my senior officers.”
    “I was just making a joke.”
    “Well don’t,” Wilson said.  “It’s not funny that the other nations of Europe have submitted to that farce of an organisation.  What’s a joke is the European Union, it’s the most useless governing body to have ever existed and they’re not going to ruin this country as long as I’m still around.”
    “You seem really opposed to them,” a different officer said.  “You didn’t vote, did you?”
    “Of course not,” Wilson said.  “I’ve been in this ruined city for the last five months.”
    “It doesn’t seem fair, does it?  Having a vote that certain people can’t attend, it’s undemocratic.”
    “The vote had been scheduled for the 24th of April for a long time, probably since the last one,” Wilson said.  “What could they have done?”
    “Change the date?”
    “You can’t change the date of a vote when it’s inconvenient for some people,” Wilson said.  “Then they would have to postpone it for when some people are out of the country, in order to give everyone a chance to vote.  Eventually, you’d have people calling up, saying that they can’t make it one day, can they do it another time, it’d be ridiculous.”
    “It won’t apply to us for long, will it?  Since most of the hard work is finally over, many troops will be leaving the city now, won’t they?”
    “Yes,” Wilson said.  “That’s true, but the hard work isn’t over.  That will be done by the people who have to clean up our mess.”
    While General Wilson continued giving out his orders to the officers inside the central command tent, a messenger walked quickly across the camp, heading for the command centre.
    This soldier would occasionally burst into short periods of jogging in an attempt to hasten his arrival at the General’s tent and minimise how drenched he was by the time he got there.  He kept his head down and just kept on walking as the rain steadily darkened his uniform, the messenger caught sight of the General’s tent, who he was supposed to deliver his message to.
    On approaching the command tent, the weather suddenly changed, the rain didn’t stop, it continued both heavily and unhindered.  What did change though was the Sun, it appeared out of nowhere and began to shine through a tiny gap in the sky, in which the lack of cloud coverage was just enough to fit its circumference.
    The combination of the pouring rain and bright Sunlight produced a highly unusual sight.  The soldier stopped in his tracks and just gazed up at the sky.  He couldn’t avoid being stunned by the view, each raindrop sparkling with daylight as it fell mesmerised him.  He stared at the rain in front of him and listened to the muffled tapping of it falling on leaves in the background.  The man didn’t look away until the clouds completely covered the Sun, once more plunging the city into darkness.
    This soldier regained his senses and continued making for the General’s tent, he entered quickly and addressed the General, interrupting one of his officers in mid-sentence.
    “Excuse me sir?” he said.
    “What do you want, Private?” the General asked.
    “I have a message from Sergeant Bennet,” he said.
    “Couldn’t it wait?” Wilson said.  “I’m in the middle of a meeting.”
    “No sir,” he said.  “The Sergeant was most insistent that you’d want to know this now.”
    “Well?” Wilson said.  “What is it?”
    “The Sergeant’s scouts have located the enemy’s base,” he said.
    General Wilson expected himself to get angry but instead started laughing, quickly followed by the officers in the room.
    “What are you talking about?” Wilson said.  “We destroyed their base yesterday.”
    “Oh, I’m sorry sir,” he said.  “That’s not what I’m talking about.”
    “What?” Wilson said.  “Why don’t you tell me then?”
    “He wanted me to tell you that he’s ‘found the location of the vicar’,” he said.  “Does that make sense?”
    “You mean the vigilante?” Wilson said.  “That crazy old man who’s been dressing up like a priest and attacking my soldiers?”
    “I think so,” he said.
    “That’s not possible,” Wilson said.  “He’s dead.  The Penal Company reported his death almost four weeks ago, a Cerberus pilot confirmed it.”
    “Well, I’ve still heard stories about attacks since then,” he said.  “Maybe there are two of them.”
    “Perhaps,” Wilson said.  “But I don’t think so.”
    “He’s not all bad,” he said.  “They say he kills Para-militia as well.”
    “That doesn’t matter,” Wilson said.  “He’s killed British troops so that makes him an enemy combatant.  This man is just a beast that won’t stop killing people.”
    “Do you have a message for the Sergeant?” he said.
    “Wait,” Wilson said.  “First, tell me more.”
    “What do you want to know?” he said.
     “Where did he say this guy’s hiding out?” Wilson asked.
    “He told me to tell you that his men followed him to an old church,” he said.
    “Appropriate enough for an imitation priest,” Wilson said.
    “Do you know why he dresses like that?” the messenger said.
    “I’m not sure,” Wilson admitted.  “He probably did it to get into the city easier.”
    “What are you going to do about him?” one of the officers interjected.
    “You can leave now,” Wilson said to the messenger.
    “Is there a message for the Sergeant?” he asked.
    “Just tell him that I’ll designate someone else to handle it,” Wilson said.
    “Yes sir,” the messenger said before leaving.
    “We really need to deal with him,” Wilson said to his officers.  “He’s been interfering for far too long, I’m only glad the media were banned from the city, otherwise everyone would know about him.  I want a squad dispatched to go to this location and eliminate him.”
    “I’ll send someone good,” the officer said.
    “Wait no,” Wilson said.  “I want you to order the Penal Company to go to the church.”
    “The Penal Company?” the officer said.  “But there are only seven of them left.”
    “Yes,” Wilson said.  “I know.  That’s why I want them to go; they only have to kill one person so we don’t need a large group.”
    “But this man has been responsible for hundreds of deaths in the war.  He’s clearly incredibly dangerous and the Penal Company are barely even soldiers.”
    “Listen to me,” Wilson said.  “Why do you think the Penal Company was introduced?”
    “I just assumed it was to draw enemy fire, they’re certainly not the best fighters.”
    “No, they’re here for suicide missions,” Wilson said.  “Anything that isn’t worth risking a soldier’s life goes to them.  The idea for a modern Penal Company came from someone above us and the overcrowded prisons inspired their proposal.  They took 75 prisoners from across the country, the most violent, the most dangerous and the ones with the longest sentences.  They lured them to join voluntarily and cooperate with promises of luxuries and reduced sentences.  The Penal Company is just a way of freeing up some space.  They’re not here to aid us, they’re here to die.”
    “I don’t understand,” another officer said.
    “I was forced to take the Penal Company with us when we invaded Edinburgh,” General Wilson said.  “The problem is the government creates more laws each day without getting rid of any so more and more people go to prison and now they’re up to bursting point.  They even had to start letting burglars off from any time in prison not that long ago because there simply wasn’t enough room.  That’s why we now have a Penal Company.  This would be the first conflict they were present in.  After this, all other British armies are going to have at least one Penal Company in order to thin out the prison population.  They’re expendable, an infinite supply of disposable soldiers who no one will care about when they’re gone and need to be replaced.  I was told that none were supposed to come back alive and since this war is coming to a close, I would prefer it if they and the old man kill each other rather than have some of our soldiers do it.  They might not be great fighters, but they are still very violent and heavily armed men.  Things have actually turned out quite fortunately for us, we’re lucky that the old man is still around, all may end in our favour.”
    “You think that the Penal Company will be finished off by this mission?”
    “Here’s hoping,” Wilson said.  “At the very least, it’ll diminish their numbers even more.  This man faced off with a Cerberus and apparently survived, he’ll probably present a challenge for those psychos in the Penal Company.”
    “Okay, I’ll send the word immediately.”
    “No,” Wilson said.  “The Penal Company is out on patrol at the moment.  I needed someone to check out a building that may have some Para-militia remnant fighters in it and, since it’s raining, I wanted them to go.”
    “So when should I send them.”
    “They’ll be back by nightfall,” Wilson said.  “Give them a few hours to rest and re-equip and then send them out.”
    “After making them patrol all day in the rain?  They won’t be happy.”
    “They’re not here to be happy either,” Wilson said.  “I already told you, they’re with us to do what they’re ordered until they die.  So do what you’re told and send them out tonight, it should be easier for them to sneak up on him at night anyway.  As for the rest of you, I want you to focus on protecting the train yard, send more soldiers to guard the civilians coming back into the city.  Then we can begin decreasing the amount of soldiers stationed in the city but still maintain martial law until all the Para-militia are rounded up.”
    “Sir?” said a different officer.  “Don’t you think we should wait until all Para-militia are caught before decreasing our numbers in the city?
    “No,” Wilson said.  “We’ve been here too long; there are men who really need to go home.”
    “You don’t think civil security is worth more than homesick soldiers?”
    “The Para-militia aren’t as much of a threat anymore,” Wilson said.  “They’re just scared criminals now, transfer the matter to the police and give as much support as possible.  Does everyone understand what I want to happen and when I want it?”
    The officers in the tent all got up and began to leave; the last one stopped and turned around.
    “Eh, Sir?” he said.
    “Yes?” Wilson said.  “What?”
    “I didn’t want to second guess you in front of the rest, but I have serious reservations.”
    “About decreasing the number of troops garrisoned here?” Wilson said.
    “No, I mean sending the Penal Company to handle the priest.  Are you sure you want to deal with the matter in this fashion?”
    “I don’t like being questioned,” Wilson said.  “Regardless if it’s publicly or privately.  I’m sure of my decision, we’ve been haunted by this phantom for far too long and it was the Penal Company who failed to kill him, so they can be the ones to perform the exorcism.”