16 – Diplomatic Immunity

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“Knock on the door, and wait to see who answers.”

Miranda stood at the door, and was being haughty about being ordered around. “I don’t see why you have to put me in this uncomfortable situation.” She knocked on Famine’s door, then took a step back.

We waited for a moment, and Famine opened the door in nightwear. Her hair was messy, and it was clear we had just woken her up.

“Who’re you?” Famine demanded from Miranda.

“My name is Miranda. I am the Superior who has been dedicated to this area. I am here to talk to you about your arsonry.”

Famine grabbed Miranda by her throat, and then took a knife she had apparently hung next to the door and placed it onto the side of her neck.

“Give me one reason not to kill you.” Famine’s words were as cold and sharp as the knife she held.

I couldn’t see Miranda’s face from my angle, but I imagine she had a look of panic. Her hands were trying to grab the answer that her face couldn’t, and it looked rather pitiful. It took some effort from me to avoid laughing.

“I- um- I’m here to help!” Miranda stuttered. She was not making nearly as good a case as I had when I approached Famine.

“Here to help arrest me? I’m not having it. Try again.” I think some of Famine’s anger might’ve had to do with the fact that there was a high ranking policeman standing at her door.

“No- no-” Miranda continued to stutter. She wasn’t make a good first impression for herself in anyway. I stepped out of the bushes and intervened.

“Famine, she’s with me. I wanted to see how well she could communicate on her own. Obviously, she would not make a good spokesperson.” Famine dropped Miranda, and kept looking at me.

“Ren, you asshole, you got me worked up over nothing.” She shook her head. “Come on in, you two.” Miranda entered the house, and so did I. Upon entering, Famine was already setting a kettle onto the stove.

“I hope you don’t mind tea, Superior,” Famine acknowledged the old woman. “On that note, what is your name?”

“It’s Miranda,” Miranda sputtered after a moment of delay. “I apologise if we woke you, miss.”

Famine shook her finger at Miranda, who had taken a seat on Famine’s sofa. “No, no, no, ma’am. I’m not some ‘miss.’ My name is Famine. Don’t forget it.” It sounded like Famine was still a little angry.

“Alright, Famine.” Miranda stayed quiet after that.

Famine turned her attention toward me. “So where’d you pick up a mighty Superior, Ren?”

“She was sent to investigate our base, after we framed Holland as an arsonist. Shelby distrusted a Superior sitting around, and wanted me to follow her home. I planned on killing her, but she’s a dreamer. She has some hopes that she thinks we’ll be able to fulfill. So, instead of killing her, I brought her over here. She’ll be more useful this way.” Famine nodded, and took a few moments to think over what she had heard.

“Good choice, Ren. Having someone with the power that a Superior has will certainly be useful. If you want to head home now, feel free. I’m just going to go through the rounds with Miranda here.” Famine put her hand on my shoulder and squoze it.

“Good luck, Famine. I hope you don’t fall asleep talking to her, like I almost did.” Famine laughed, and I walked out of the house.

Before I shut the door, Famine shouted at me. “Wait, Ren! Take these.” She handed me a bag that contained a kettle- probably a spare- and a few boxes of tea. “I have more tea than I know what to do with, and you’re the only other person who drinks it.”

“Thanks, Famine.” She smiled at me, then shut the door. I turned from her house, and began the walk home. When I finally got home, the clock said 9:47.

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Author: Kaleb Kathleen Walker

I write short stories, and post them to my site justmynarratives.com

3 thoughts on “16 – Diplomatic Immunity”

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