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#1 Old 10th Feb 2016 at 9:25 PM Last edited by Aaron4Ever : 10th Feb 2016 at 10:51 PM.
Default Constable Centaur
There is a storm coming, one that will wipe out General Discussion and Social Groups in the biggest purge since the 14th of December 2015. Soon, no trace of General Discussion will be left, so once again, it's repupload time.

In short, Constable Centaur is a former DeviantArt series that surpasses 14 chapters as quitting DA, and tells the story of a centaur named Jeremiah Allis, who aspires to join the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. With the on-and-off help of his personal assistant and sibling to the adopted centaur named James Garland, he tries his hardest to get into the force, and the outcome? Well, looks like you'll just have to read on.

DISCLAIMER: 'Constable Centaur' does NOT represent any persons in the RCMP, or the force as a whole. Some characters, items, and story settings are property of their owners, and all the story is my original thought, with a few trademarks added in.

I don't want to battle with legal, so most of the story plays host to material used by other stories and real-world companies. None of them are mine, m'kay?

CHAPTERS:
C1: Whitehorse
C2: Special Measures
C3: A 'Different' Cadet
C4: Substitute
C5: Putting on the Serge
C6: The Hidden Towns
C7: Back Once More
C8: Intervention
C9: Horse On Patrol
C10: Civil War
C11: November Rain
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Original Poster
#2 Old 10th Feb 2016 at 9:37 PM
Default Constable Centaur - C1 - Whitehorse
"I've told you two times now, you were going above 50 kilometres an hour." The constable told James.
"I understand your worries, officer, but I need to get to Whitehorse right now." James argued. He was stopped by a Yukon RCMP constable, who flagged him down for doing 60km/h on a 50km/h rural road. He was sat in a black Dodge Ram - keys on the dash, window rolled down. But there was a suspicious-looking horse box attatched to the rear of the Ram, which was occupied.
"You probably have a horse or something in there. If you crash, that thing will need euthanizing." The constable complained. "Now show me your license please."

A crash came from the horsebox. James got anxious - the RCMP constable was only going to discover what was inside. The constable drew his pistol, and walked to the horsebox. Groans and creaks of the metal came from the stall, and muffled cursing was heard.
"Police, step out of the stall with your hands in the air." The constable ordered, pointing his pistol at the door. There was no response, and his shift was ending quick. The snow was beginning to fall, and traffic was beginning to snarl. He decided to open the stall, and unlocked the locking mechanisms on the door. James shouted not to open it, but it was too late for any secrecy.

The door landed with a crash. Flashlight on, the constable checked the straw-laden stall, and noticed that there was a horse laid on it's side on the floor. He thought it had died, and was just about to get out his handcuffs, when he noticed movement from the body, and the sound of someone stretching with groans.
"Oh jeez, that really hurt my leg." Someone said.
"Excuse me?" The constable asked.
"I'm just saying, I fell over, and hurt my leg."
"So horses can talk now?"

A hand came from the floor, and the 'horse' began getting itself off the floor. I say 'horse', actually it was close. The body lifted onto it's four feet, but it appeared to have a human torso above all. Arms of a human, and the head, too. Combed black hair, and a smart shirt, with tie. A Centaur. But in the Yukon Territories?
"I'm going to say officer, that is just plain racist." The centaur said as it tried to turn itself around. The constable was speechless. He didn't know what to do, or if he had gotten himself killed.
"Wha-whe-who are you?" The constable asked.
"Well I didn't take into consideration that the RCMP were stopping us, so I don't want to take out my ID. There is just too much paperwork."
"Um... well, you don't need to?"

With audible fear, the constable let James go, and ran back to his car, skidding away from James' Ram. Pretty soon, he got a call from the centaur in the back, and answered it.
"I may have bruised my front left leg." The centaur said.
"That's bull, Jeremiah, you've probably got a slight sting." James replied, not knowing what Jeremiah had done.
"Should I see a vet or a doctor?"
"I don't know either, but you scared off the police."
"But I never wanted to do that!"
"Hey, you didn't need to be taken to the government testing facility, and I didn't need to lose my hard-earned cash."
"Why do they even want me?"
"I don't know, they may want some tissue samples, or just want to make another one of you for their own pleasure."
"I'd never allow that."
"Okay, listen, we'll be in Whitehorse in a few minutes, and we'll see if your fracas with the officer has affected you getting your job in the RCMP."

Jeremiah hung up the phone, and tuned the portable radio in his stall to many frequencies. He went from Backstreet Boys to Parliament Hill, and eventually stopped at a rerun of 'Royal Canadian Air Farce'. In the Ram, James was on his phone, looking for the RCMP detachment. He was at risk of being pulled over again, but he had a reasonable excuse. Besides, much of the RCMP would know what's in the back anyway.

Soon, the Ram crossed the limits of Whitehorse, the Yukon's capital, and it's only big city. With a population of over 27,000, it makes any other city in Yukon look like a farming community. James was looking for a wood-panelled building, with three flags outside, and police cars and officers going in and out of it. James thought that he has a slim chance of getting a job in the RCMP, and that he'd most likely end up in the Musical Ride. But he parked up in a parking space outside the detachment, and unfastened the locks, letting Jeremiah out, as he cleared his shirt of the hay and dust.

Constables outside the station were questioning why there was a Ram with a horsebox outside their detachment. They weren't taking any donations for the Musical Ride, and they don't ride horses on patrol any more. They all came running over, and some watched, while a few came to attempt to deter James from the detachment.
"See for yourself." Was James' response to the question of what was in the horsebox. That cued onlookers to bring out their phones and cameras, wondering what was going to come out.

Jeremiah walked out of the stall once the door was down, and everyone fell silent. Everyone was so shocked that a half-horse had turned up at the detachment, and they did nothing to stop him getting out. Jeremiah and James walked into the detachment, and after ducking down from the door, talked to the front desk officer, who was being heard by officers who had piled up at the corridor.
"I'm James Garland from Canada Health, personal assistant to Jeremiah Allis, who is looking for a policing position in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police." James told the front desk officer.
"Yeah, none of us know if he over there can be hired. Say, why don't you..." The front desk officer began, before Jeremiah interrupted.
"Listen, I have the skills. I can shoot, chase, and write." Jeremiah said, his tail swishing in anxiety.
"Police work isn't all Hollywood, sir, you've got paperwork and patrols, of which I'm afraid I don't think you can do."
"Come on, I've always wanted a job in the force."
"Oh fine, speak to the commander - I don't think you'll get the job, however."

"He's half-HORSE, how the hell is he going to get a job in policing?" The secretary to the detachment commander asked.
"Maybe if we can watch what he can do or something, he can get into Regina and get training for real." The commander replied.
"But isn't he a bit too tall and..."
"His top speed is pretty close to the school zone speeds, I think he'll do pretty well."

The door was knocked, and the commander called them in. The commander was an aging man, a month away from retiring from his job. It would be nice for him to let an unusual human-being into the police force, and he was to pull out all the stops to get him a job.
"Guy with two legs, take a seat, you there, er... just stand up." The commander told them. Soon, he asked, "Your names, please?"
"I'm James Garland; the government set me up with him as a personal assistant. We have to live with each other, and I'm fine with that." James told the commander.
"Jeremiah Allis. Before you say horse people, I'm a centaur, damn it. I've trained myself for this job - I've learned how to shoot, I've exercised myself and I've practised writing." Jeremiah said.
"Before we go on, Allis, do you have any experience with computers?"
"Yes, I do."
"Great, that's a stepping stone towards the job. Now I'm going to have to tell you some things which may put you off the job, which I hope will not happen. You may be relocated, you may have to be working at night, you will have to carry a weapon, and use force against offenders, there may be some disturbing scenes in the job like suicides or bombings, and career evolution."
"I'm perfectly fine with all those."
"Great. Do you have any records, like birth certificates, CVs, criminal records?"
"Unfortunately, I was born in the woods or something, so I don't have a birth certificate, nor do I have much on my CV. But I am retaking some classes that I flunked in the past."
"I'm guessing your criminal record is clear?"
"Without a doubt, yes. It's somewhere in the database, I know."

The commander looked for his criminal record, and found it, noticing it was clear, but it had a flag on his name, saying 'NOT HUMAN - EXERCISE CAUTION'.
"That's always a plus, Jeremiah. I'm looking forward to the rest of this interview."

The commander was constantly impressed by Jeremiah's physical and mental abilities, even showing a few videos from James' camcorder. Eventually, the decision was made.
"Okay, we'll put you on a physical examination tomorrow. For now, consider yourself in the force. If you pass the exam, you'll be in Regina in a few days." The commander said.
Jeremiah then became very happy, and said a barrage of thank yous. Soon, James and Jeremiah were on their way home. Jeremiah loaded himself in the horsebox, and James locked it, then turned the ignition of the Ram, and set off for home.
Banned
Original Poster
#3 Old 10th Feb 2016 at 9:41 PM
Default Constable Centaur - C2 - Special Measures
James and Jeremiah soon drove up to their house a few miles out of Whitehorse, off the highway. After James turned off the ignition, he locked the truck, and unlocked Jeremiah's horsebox. He walked out of the horsebox, and the two walked into their small, two floor house, with appropriate extensions and ramps. Instantly, the two were hit with a warm breeze - the heating was on.
"Oh, that's a lovely feeling." James said, putting his coat on the rack.
"Well, yeah, it is." Jeremiah said, feeling his upper half get progressively warmer.
"What, you don't agree?"
"Well my lower half felt warmer, so um... it's hard to explain."
"So it is. You should get ready for that physical assessment tomorrow."
"How? I can't run on a treadmill."
"Close but no cigar, Jeremiah."
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

A few minutes later, James and Jeremiah were outside, and James was timing Jeremiah, who was lapping the house. It was still very cold outside, as evidenced by Jeremiah's insulated coat flapping in the wind. He also had an earpiece in his ear, because he was too fast to talk to James without any other forms of communication.
"You're averaging a time of one minute and five seconds." James told Jeremiah.
Panting, Jeremiah said, "That's great, when do we finish?"
"Quarter of an hour. See, you'll get fifteen or sixteen laps in fifteen minutes."
"Well that's reassuring."

After Jeremiah did sixteen laps, he was told to stop. He had made his fifteen minute exercise a form of torture on purpose to push himself. When he came to a stop, his four legs were all aching in various places. But it was well worth it.
"How did I do?" Jeremiah asked, wheezing and coughing.
"Your best lap was 58 seconds. Average, I think was a minute. So you really did push yourself." James replied, checking his papers he wrote on.
"In what way does THIS help me do a physical assessment?"
"From what I've heard, it improves stamina, and, er... some stuff."
"You forgot?!"
"Short term memory, Jeremiah, you should know this!"

Brief exercises done, the two finally finished and walked back into the heated house. James tried to watch the TV, but all he got was a sea of black and white.
"Jeremiah, the TV's gone again!" He yelled.
"What do I do?" Jeremiah yelled.
"Try screwing in the dish, I think it's fell off!"

Jeremiah screwed back in the dish, gave it a bit of a shake, and soon, the TV was working again. But he didn't watch it really. He put it in the background, pulled out his laptop, and began to take notes on Jeremiah's activities and health, as ordered by the government. Meanwhile, Jeremiah was washing himself in the shower - his bulky black lower half being pelted with warm, refreshing water. The shower was a walk-in, since Jeremiah didn't want to risk tripping and falling over the rim of the bathtub. All he needed to do was flick a switch, and some locks unlocked, and the bathtub rim fell to the floor, letting Jeremiah walk in and out of the bath.

The shower was soon turned off, and Jeremiah unlocked the bath. The rim fell, and he walked out, and put a towel around his naked torso. He took another towel, a larger one, to dry his lower half, and in the space of the small bathroom, both halves were dried with difficulty, but soon, Jeremiah put on a t-shirt, and slumped on the floor in the living room to watch the TV.

That night, James took his laptop with him to bed, while Jeremiah slept on the floor in the living room, relying on his own body warmth to let him sleep. He was about to fall asleep when James' door creaked open, carrying his laptop and duvet.
"I can't sleep." James said, his voice sounding reasonably tired.
"Oh, you've been worrying about me again? Come on, sleep between my legs, just watch the bladder." Jeremiah said, adjusting himself to make James feel more comfortable.

James got down on the floor, and placed his head on Jeremiah's stomach area. He threw the duvet over himself, and closed his eyes, sharing Jeremiah's body heat. Within five minutes, he was asleep, but Jeremiah couldn't sleep, because he was snoring loudly. Jeremiah muttered to himself, and attempted to sleep.

The next morning, James was woken by Jeremiah kicking at the sofa. His alarm clock was a few minutes before going off, so he walked back to his bedroom, and got on the phone to the assessors.
"Hello, James Garland, Canada Health." James said to the man at the phone.
"Are you calling to check when the assessment will take place, Mr. Garland?" The assessor's phone op replied.
"Yes I am."
"Well the assessment time will be at 9am, depending on traffic. All papers have been signed, and we will send him to Regina if he passes."
"That's great. At the minute, he is asleep, so I'll inform him once he gets up."
"Okay, thank you for your time, sir."
"Thanks, I'm out."

Jeremiah's alarm clock went off shortly after. James heard the sound of yawning and floorboards creaking, which meant that he didn't oversleep for once. If he was to make the grade, he needed to get up earlier. He got up on all fours, and soon was making his own breakfast - cereal, with the appropriate milk bag spillage. James then walked in on Jeremiah, who was still slightly tired from James' snoring.
"Jeremiah, the appropriate paperwork has been signed, if you pass this, you'll go to Regina." James said, as he watched Jeremiah spill one eighth of a milk bag on the floor.
"Well can you fetch me another milk bag?" Jeremiah asked. He was thrown a milk bag. "Thanks. Now I just can't wait to get into the assessment. If I pass, I'll be a cadet."
"Just please pass. I want you to get this job, I've been helping you towards this job, and I don't want to see you not get this job."

A few hours later, the assessor knocked on the door of Jeremiah's house. He greeted the assessor, put on his brown riding jacket, and said goodbye to James as he got into the horsebox, which was soon on the way to a track somewhere outside Whitehorse. He was assessed by a team on his shooting, athletic skills and other things. Thankfully, his assessment was so good, he passed with flying colours.
"Can I be sent to Regina as early as I can?" Jeremiah asked.
"You need to be there by tomorrow night, so you should pack right now." The assessor replied.
"But what if I cannot be educated like everybody else?"
"We've put you into 'special measures' so you can fit in with your classes, but there are some things you cannot do."
"Like driving."
"Exactly. It'll be hard, but we hope you can handle it."

Jeremiah was soon sent home, and as soon as he could, threw out his bags, and started packing shirts. In other bags, he carried personal possessions and other miscellany. These next six months will test his skills, and maybe he'll learn a few along the way. Regina tomorrow.
Banned
Original Poster
#4 Old 10th Feb 2016 at 9:46 PM
In order for me to catch up to Chapter 14 quicker, I am going to put separated chapters together in one post. P1s, 2s and 3s will be anschlussed together.

Constable Centaur - C3 - A 'Different' Cadet - P1

"The plane has been booked; I have to go in an hour." Jeremiah said to James - who he will not see for a few weeks, or even months. He was going to board a plane to Regina, but he'll have to sit in the cargo hold of a plane, because there was no way he was going to manage in regular class.
"Are you sure you have everything?" James asked, picking up a bag to put in the back of the Ram.
"On second thought, no, I don't."
"Great, what have we forgotten?"

Jeremiah then came back from his cabinet with a briefcase. This raised a lot of questions, like "Why the hell do you have a briefcase?" and "What is even inside?". But for now, there was no answer - this briefcase contained many personal belongings from his confusing past.
"You know how we first met?" Jeremiah asked.
"What, found you on the side of the road, head in the snow, twenty or so years ago? Yeah, I remember digging you out and helping my parents throw you in the back of the pickup, sending you home to take care of you." James said. This was true - Jeremiah as a foal was found abandoned in the snow near the woods in the late 80s, and his condition was terrible. He was abandoned without anything at all - no clothes, no food, no nothing. Back then, James was a child fresh out of first grade, and he begged his parents to try and rescue him from certain death.

After much refusal, James' parents finally gave in, wrapped up, and got out of their F-350. They got shovels and blankets, and started digging out Jeremiah, who was suffering from severe hypothermia. The scared look in his eyes when his head was turned around was etched permanently into James' face, and he knew that he was responsible for the care of this newfound animal thing. All three of them helped to lift Jeremiah's heavy body up out of the snow, and they put him in the bed of the truck, putting in some kind of electric heater to keep him warm.

James' father drove as fast as he could towards their house, catching the attention of an RCMP SUV patrolling the woods. A pursuit started, but after much shouting out of the window, it was over. When James' parents reached home, Jeremiah was cared for as much as James' parents could. When James tried to talk to Jeremiah, he noticed that he had probably just learnt how to talk, so he asked him a few simple questions.
"What's your name?" James asked.
"Jere...Jeremiah Allis."
"Jeremiah, my mum and dad are going to help you get better, and I want to see you better. What are you?"
"I wasn't told."

After much care, Jeremiah soon recovered. James was sworn in by the government to be Jeremiah's personal assistant until either one of them dies, and Jeremiah was checked on by doctors and vets working together. Soon, Jeremiah became stronger and bigger, and when he reached 13, James said that they had to split from James' parents - the house was too small for him, and the money was going down the toilet.

Jeremiah was never enrolled in public education; James' parents thought he would be bullied. This would come and bite him in the arse in the present day, which speaking of, was actually not snowing for once, which made Jeremiah's trip be hopefully much quicker.
"Well I guess this is goodbye." Jeremiah said once the Freightliner Sprinter turned up to collect him.
"Who knows, in a few months, I'll be seeing you in red serge." James said, a slight sense of sadness in his voice.
"They say you can visit after 4:30pm. Just go get a hotel, because you can't sleep on property."
"But what if the plane lands at morning call?"
"You'll have to wait, won't ya?"
"So auld lang syne and stuff, this house is going to be lonely now."
"It is. Just try cleaning the carpet out - there are a lot of hairs in it."

Jeremiah waved James goodbye. This was the last time he was going to see him for a few weeks. A ramp was retracted from the back of the van, and after Jeremiah had made himself comfortable in the converted van, the van set off towards the airport. A TV and portable radio - much to Jeremiah's appreciation - were installed in the back, and the floor had a carpet where Jeremiah would lie. Unfortunately, the added weight of Jeremiah lowered the suspension of the Freightliner considerably, and every bump in a road hurt him.

After a not-so lengthy drive to Erik Nielsen International Airport, Jeremiah was led out of the van, and until he had to board the cargo hold of the plane, he stretched his legs and did some exercise. He did some laps around the airport, but tried not to get hit by a taxiing plane or disrupt traffic on the runway. Eventually, after almost everyone in the airport got at least one photograph, Jeremiah was told that the plane was about to start taxiing, and once he was strapped into special seatbelts, the plane left the tarmac, and began a six hour journey to the RCMP 'Depot' Division.

Six hours and a few provinces later, the plane touched down in Regina. By then, Jeremiah was asleep, and checks every hour revealed that Jeremiah had fallen asleep three hours into the flight. When the cargo hold was opened by airport personnel, Jeremiah woke up quickly, and gathered his things. He galloped out of the plane, and made his way into the terminal of the Regina International Airport.

Almost instantly, four CBSA guards escorted him around the airport once he arrived. Photographers started flooding the airport, along with news crews. For now, Jeremiah's identity was strictly concealed with the alias of 'John Doe', as per usual in the RCMP, and media was kept very far from Jeremiah. He hit customs, in which there were a lot of goods declared, and a scan of his bags revealed he had everything on the list, and nothing broke the rules.
"You could say I'm on my way to being perfect." Jeremiah told the customs officer, who was an absolute stoic.
"Okay, that is nice to hear. Be on your way... do I call you a sir?" The customs officer asked.
"Yes, you do."
"Okay, be on your way sir."

Jeremiah's arrival closed the street leading from the airport, leading to multiple scenes of road rage and traffic jams. He was escorted by graduated members of the RCMP, who at first seemed a little stunned, to the academy, and once he entered the grounds, there was no turning back. When he entered a building to get the last of his things sorted out and get a name tag, the whole building just stopped. Everyone stared at Jeremiah, who was feeling very nervous about his first day. It was just like how a human experienced his first day in school, except this was a police academy, and he wasn't even human.
"What the hell is he?" Someone asked.
"Is that what I think it is?" Another person asked.
"How did he even get here?" A third person asked.

Someone then walked out of a door, and shouted, "Hey, be nice to this guy, in about 24 weeks time, you'll never see him again!" Soon, the whole building started moving again, but everyone kept staring at Jeremiah, which made the whole situation much worse for him. But the first person he talked to was a member of administration, who was the first to greet him with, "Welcome to Depot."
"This place is going to need a whole lot of changes if I'm going to get a position." Jeremiah said, looking around the building and seeing the many things he couldn't do - for example, sit at a table.
"Don't worry now, the government is going to help you try and get the best experience possible along the way. You're looking for name tags, right?"
"Yeah, I am."
"Well I'm sorry, you're in the wrong building. In fact, do you know your troop number?"
"No, I don't."

The member of admin walked into the corridor, and shouted, "Troop number for a Jeremiah Allis!"
"Troop Number 10!" Someone shouted.
"Thank you!"

The admin member walked over to Jeremiah, craned her neck upwards, and said, "Troop Number 10, look for the dorm buildings."
"Okay, thanks." Jeremiah said, then he picked up his bags and ran to his dorm. In there, 29 of his cadet partners were awaiting his arrival, and they were becoming impatient.
"Why didn't he come with the group?" Someone asked.
"I don't know really, although I heard that someone was escorted here." Someone else replied.
"This guy is supposed to be kind of 'different'."
"Please tell me he is sane."
"We all do hope so."

The door opened, and Jeremiah banged his head.
"Jesus Christ, now I know how Rob Ford feels like!" He shouted as he rubbed his head.
"Oh, he's here." Someone said.
"Mother of pearl." Someone else said, noticing Jeremiah's lower half.

All of the members of his troop started staring at Jeremiah as he walked in with a pounding headache. The door was shut with a push from one of his hind hooves, and he stood with his troop after putting his bags on the floor.
"Are you just putting this on for show, or are you actually real?" The cadet next to him asked.
"This is all legitimate. I was born somewhere in the Yukon like this." Jeremiah told the cadet.
"Well this'll be a story to tell to my kids in six months time. Now pipe down, horse guy, the person over there is speaking."

"Alright everyone, welcome to Depot, nice to see you've all made it here today, including the big guy over there who probably has a pounding headache." A senior cadet told the whole of Troop 10.
"True, I might need medical attention as of now." Jeremiah said.
"Nah, you'll recover quickly. I'm going to tell you all some things about your bunks while I give you all a small tour of it. For one, the female cadets will be getting private bunks." The senior cadet said, with mixed reactions from the new cadets. "Wake-up is early - 5:30am - and lights-out at ten at night. In case you didn't know, most, but not all classes will be over at around 4:30pm, which is allotted time for visitation. If you are lucky, there will be no classes, and you will have the time to do your things until evening meal, in which you are supposed to attend. Now a brief introduction in your dorm neatness rules."

Jeremiah's blood quickly ran cold. There was no way that he was going to sleep on the floor in the troop barracks, and he usually makes a mess of his duvet on the rare occasion he is given one. Also, he could not sleep on a bed - the suspension of the bed frame would snap if he even stepped on it. What was he going to do? The senior cadet's listing of regulations for dorm neatness made it even worse for him.
"Your dorm - a place for everything, and everything has it's place. Now most of the males, including horse guy are not getting private dorms, which even still are the same as private dorms in terms of neatness. We expect your beds to not have any creases in them, there must be no dust, and clothes must be folded in a specific way. The Corporal will explain in your first drill session, so I'd suggest taking a photo of your bunk as some kind of reminder to keep your bed clean."
"Question? Actually, two." Jeremiah said.
"Go ahead horse guy, I can answer some questions, but not all."
"One, can you stop calling me horse guy?" Jeremiah asked, causing a few snickers from the cadets. "And two, where will I sleep? I'm too large and heavy to sleep on an ordinary bunk."
"Well that's a question I cannot answer. The other one, once we get your name, we'll stop calling you horse guy, but for the other one, I don't know. I'd consult your special needs person for over here, but for now, just improvise or something. The longer you stay here, the more meetings we'll have to co-ordinate about you, I can see it."

Everyone was given a tour of the barrack, and soon, the cadets unpacked their many bags, with Jeremiah thinking of what he would do with the bed, as it was still a requirement. Soon, he decided to hang up his many shirts, which he thought that he had packed way too many, and soon received the first of his kit - the first of many.

Constable Centaur - C3 - A 'Different' Cadet - P2

The first class was basically a slew of information to everyone, like rules and details, and Jeremiah and the rest of the troop had to attend. Jeremiah pushed chairs out of the way, and sat on the floor, while being stared at by everyone - something he had to get used to.
"Excuse me, why are you lying on the floor?" The teacher asked Jeremiah.
"Well I can't sit on a chair, so I have to." Jeremiah replied.
"Is there any way we can help you with that situation?"
"No, I can't sit on anything with a weak suspension."

After registration, the class took place. All the class consisted of was a lot of information spurted out of the teacher's mouth, and not a lot of people could note down anything, because one piece of information followed another. Soon, class was over, and Jeremiah put himself back on his hooves and left. He walked back to his bunk, and began wondering what he could and what he couldn't do in the academy. He was concerned about the struggles of the fitness and driving classes, because those, he reckoned, were the ones where he needed the most help.

As he tried moving the bed, a man came walking over carrying a box full of clothes and a box with a crudely-drawn 'RETURN' notice on it. The two boxes were dumped on the bed, and Jeremiah was told that anything put in returns would - surprise surprise - be returned to the tailor or given to another cadet. Jeremiah unpacked the full box, and laid out the contents on the bed - two hats, one Stetson, one peaked cap, a lanyard (Jeremiah couldn't understand the practicality), leather gloves, a gun holster, a few belt bags, and a leather belt. Badges and epaulettes too, which were laid out in close proximity.

The returns box was left empty - everything could be worn up to now. Jeremiah put the clothes in their appropriate place after studying the folding and tidiness rules of the wardrobes, which were due for inspection at least once a week. But then, Jeremiah was handed a note, saying that yes, another kit issue had to be picked up. Both boxes were taken away, but this time, it was Jeremiah's responsibility to pick them up.

A few minutes later, he was back. And so was the returns box. This time, however, the box could actually be filled. Why? Because he had been given pants and shoes. When he took out his clothes, he got slightly jealous when he saw that his box contained pants and shoes, and he was the only one in the entire academy who could not wear them at all. Nevertheless, the box he was given contained a bulletproof vest (he grew fond of this quickly), a tan-white-ish shirt with RCMP badges on, some parkas and a tie and tie holder. He tried these all on, and once he did, he contemplated himself in the mirror, and thought that if he made it to graduation, he would be wearing proper uniform for proper patrol.

"Jeremiah, come with us please." A member of admin ordered Jeremiah, who was about to relieve himself on the grass outside.
"Can you just give me a minute? I need to go to the toilet." Jeremiah asked.
"Okay, but away from the windows and not on the grass. We don't need Depot smelling like poop."

A few minutes later, he was back, and after changing to a t-shirt by order, Jeremiah was lead to a sports facility within the grounds of the academy. As it turned, this was his first PARE (Physical Assessment Requirement Evaluation), something he dreaded he would do. A lot of the senior cadets and admin staff had taken time off to watch Jeremiah's PARE, and hope he passes it.
"Haven't I done this already?" Jeremiah asked.
"Well kind of, see, the assessment by the health people was about basic physical and stuff, this is the real deal. Now we have heard that you have been doing a lot of exercise in preparation for the academy in the past six weeks, so we decided to get this out of the way quickly and not risk holding everyone up." The assessor told Jeremiah.
"I do, usually a few sessions three or four days a week."
"Well now you have a morning run and judging by the bajillion muscles you have in your body, a lot of exercises. You've got 4 minutes and 45 seconds to do this - just like everyone else, and three attempts to do this in. To pass, get four minutes. There have been a few minor adaptations - we've increased cone space and put a few items higher than usual, but overall, it's almost the same as how a human would do it. Godspeed."

Jeremiah took position, and soon, he was off. The obstacle course was pretty much a breeze, with Jeremiah even taking a large jump over what would usually be a few low jumps between low poles. This garnered much applause from everyone, and pretty soon, it was weight and carry, which was not timed. Everyone was talking about how good Jeremiah was, and some were envious.
"My PARE took three tries to succeed, and I think this guy only needs one." A senior cadet told another senior cadet.
"Yeah, I think so too. The cone work, I'm surprised he didn't slip. And ho boy, that jump. It's almost certain he'll get below four minutes." The other senior cadet said.

Soon, Jeremiah was done. Although this wasn't as exhausting as the 15-minute run, Jeremiah was quite tired out. But the news of his time was on it's way, and Jeremiah could see a few assessors talking to one another about his grade, some suggesting adding on some time, some saying not. He could see the damage done to the floor, however - skid marks, scratches, dents and even a small chunk missing out of the floor. But soon, it was worth the fine.
"Jeremiah, we've come to the decision to not award you with a time penalty. You've achieved 3:50. Congratulations, you've passed your first PARE." The assessor said.

"I've passed!" Jeremiah cried when he entered his troop barracks. Instantly, he was hit by waves of support from his fellow cadets, some actually knowing his name now. Some people have decided to call him 'Jerry', citing his name was too long to remember, and one by one, Jeremiah began to know every single cadet's name in his troop. There was one who had come out of his shell to meet him, this cadet being the most shy of the troop. A young, mid 20's man who prefers sitting in his private bunk when he can.
"So you're the shy guy around here, eh? Jeremiah Allis, you can call me Jerry, I'm from Yukon." Jeremiah said to the shy man.
"Harold Boynton, from Nova Scotia. I think Halifax, but I've got a memory problem." The shy man said.
"Was there a massive explosion in the forties?"
"Yes, there was."
"Then it is Halifax."

Turns out, there was nothing else to do for the day. Everyone was recommended to buy shirts, storage or stationery for the classes ahead, and pretty much every new cadet flooded the Walmart in Regina. Jeremiah was left to hitchhike for a van to pick him up and take him there. Eventually, one came, and soon, he was in Walmart with a trolley full of binders and boxes. Ipanema was playing in the background as he hunted the stationery aisle for any appropriate pencil cases and the like.

A elderly couple came walking over, and after eying up Jeremiah's lower half, the elderly woman asked a question.
"Excuse me officer, is there a sale on boxes or something?"
"Ma'am, sorry, I don't..." Jeremiah began, before looking up at the signs on the roof, saying 'STORAGE SALE, EVERYTHING 10% OFF' "Ah, so there is."
"Thank you...sir? We were just curious because there were a lot of people in the storage aisle."
"Ma'am, I can assure you that I am a man, and that we are just looking for supplies for the academy. Be careful around there, there is a high chance someone is going to drop something."

"Jeremiah! I have the perfect stationery set for you!" A cadet from the neighbouring troop shouted. Jeremiah trotted over, and noticed that the cadet from Troop 9 was holding a horse-themed stationery set.
"Oh that's really funny." Jeremiah sarcastically replied.
"Well there is a Musical Ride-themed set a few steps away from here."
"Nah, I'll just go with the plain sets."
"Oh, you spoilsport."

His cart was soon filled to the brim with more boxes, some binders and a bland pencil case. After this was all paid for, there was only one obvious way he could take the shopping back to the station - he had to tie the contents all on his back. A cadet walked over, strapped down Jeremiah's shopping on his back. After a test of if it can stay on, Jeremiah soon set off back to the station, luggage on his back like a pack animal. While he was reduced to walking pace, a Regina RCMP constable stopped his car next to Jeremiah, and asked, "You need help getting back to academy?"
"No, no, I'm fine, it's just that I have been slowed down considerably." Jeremiah replied.
"Are you sure you're alright?"
"You have seen pack mules carry things on their backs, right?"
"Cadet, you're half-horse."
"I know, there is a similar skeletal structure..."
"Last chance before the light turns green."
"Oh sack it, get a van down."

Jeremiah's goods were put in a van and driven back to Depot, and soon, he was back to galloping pace. He took the alleyways, middle of the road, and off road in an attempt to not disrupt traffic, and soon, he was back in Depot boundaries. Along the way, he had slightly worn down his hooves to a visible rate, and he did not want to spend Canadian Dollars on some horseshoes for himself.

His first day practically ended after 4:30. Dinner was served a few hours later, and that was the point where every single cadet attending could see the 'different' cadet they have heard about. Once he walked through the doors, the whole canteen just stopped. People dropped their knives and forks, and stood up to see this half-horse cadet from Troop 10. Even the corporals stood up on their tables to get a good view. Phone cameras clicked and flashed, while the floorboards of the canteen groaned in agony as Jeremiah walked to the serving table. This time, the noise took time to build up again, as people were still in disbelief. Once the corporals got off their tables, the noise began to pick up again.

Once Jeremiah was at the serving table, the cooks started crowding around. It was at that moment he realised that he hadn't ate since leaving Yukon early-doors. He could hear his stomach, which contrary to popular belief, was in his lower half, grumbling, and some of the foods served seemed foreign to him. He settled for some spaghetti, and first set his plate on a table full of Troop 10 cadets.
"Sorry Jeremiah, you're blocking the gangway, and this table is already full." A cadet told Jeremiah.

Jeremiah picked up his plate, and moved to a less-full table. Again, he was blocking the gangway, so he moved. After multiple tables rejected, Jeremiah decided to take an empty table, and after he moved the bench away from the table, set his plate down, and started eating the spaghetti with the fork he picked up. He was halfway into his dinner when he heard someone else bang a plate on his table. Harold Boynton.
"Harold?" Jeremiah asked him.
"Don't wear it out, Jeremiah. Before you ask, I'm sitting here because I think you're my only friend here." Harold said as Jeremiah twirled a string of spaghetti around his fork.
"Now that's a lovely compliment, but you shouldn't be shy, there are a lot of new faces around here, and once you get to know some, it won't be so hard. That's how I got through my first part-timer."
"Jeremiah, you haven't cemented your hair. If the corporal notices, everyone's doing push-ups back in the dorm."
"See, that's some progress. You're reminding me of something that I need to do, and that's one reason why friends are here."
"Now that you mention it, what was your first job?"
"I worked at a Canadian Tyre in Whitehorse. A week in, and a shelf came tumbling down on someone."
"And you were fired, I guess?"
"Oh sure, my personal assistant had to pay the insurance fine."
"Well before I joined up, I was a public works person back in Halifax. Once I clocked someone with a stop sign for stealing a phone, I decided to join the RCMP."
"If you can fix bridges, I can build them."
"You sound like the Prime Minister on a peace mission."
"And that's what I intended. I'm going to finish off this spaghetti before it goes cold."

Harold cleared Jeremiah's plate after they finished both of theirs. Until the canteen kicked everyone out, Jeremiah tried to meet as many people as he could.
"Winston Bhutaku, guess where I'm from." A man somewhere from the north told Jeremiah.
"Alaska?" Jeremiah asked. He was subsequently slapped in the face.
"No, man, I'm from an island north of the 'Shield, and that's in Nunavut!"
"Oh wow, I've always wanted to meet someone from the Nunavut island things."
"There are lot of characters from many places here - you've even got some aboriginals who went into normal society."
"I never thought the aboriginals could join the RCMP!"
"Well there you go, something new has been learnt. You want to know Inuit? Come to Troop 14 dorm, I'll teach you."

After rubbing his face of Bhutaku's slap, he walked over to another table which stood out to him, and he saw a few familiar faces on that table.
"Jeremiah! I didn't know you joined the RCMP!" A familiar man told Jeremiah.
"Drake, good to see you alive. I'm so sorry for kicking you in the face a few years ago, I was having a serious mood swing." Jeremiah said.
"All is forgiven, Jeremiah. While my cheek is only slightly out of place, everything else has healed over. If it wasn't for you, I could have caught a virus."
"What?! Why?!"
"You disfiguring my face unjammed something in my immune system, and for some reason, I have become immune to the common cold.
"Now I'm not sorry. In fact, I feel glad now. So would the theory be that every person I kick in the cheek gets immune to cold?"
"I don't think it works that way, Jerry."

"Alright, we're closing up, GEDDOUT!" A cook yelled. Everyone left the canteen as the serving tables were washed and plates were piled up. Jeremiah had somehow managed to make miracles in the past few years, and he was on his way to make Harold a less shy person. A couple hours later, everyone was called to their bunks for sleep. Jeremiah nearly got stuck in the door as he got in, and soon realised he still didn't have a safe place to sleep. He decided to throw caution to the wind, and took off his sheets. Jeremiah got on the floor, and covered himself over with the sheets, took his pillow, and slept.
Banned
Original Poster
#5 Old 10th Feb 2016 at 10:08 PM
Default Constable Centaur - C4 - Substitute - P1
The next morning, Jeremiah woke up to a severely-creased duvet. He knew he was going to be hounded down by the inspectors, so he decided to get up before everyone. Would there be a reasonable explanation for the creases to get the troop out of push-ups? Probably not.

Jeremiah got some hair gel from his chest of drawers, and walked to the male bathroom to apply it to his hair. As of before, his hair was a scraggly mess, and RCMP Depot regulations require hair to be neat and tidied. Jeremiah squirted some hair gel, and 'cemented' his hair, removing the scruffy, dirty hair lines.

For a few minutes, Jeremiah was one of the only people awake in the barracks. He checked his pockets for his phone, but he realised he didn't even have one. While the sun rose over Saskatchewan, Jeremiah stared out of the window, then heard the creaking of someone's bed. The bed opposite his.
"Jeremiah, you're up early." Cadet Thomas Browne said.
"Yeah, back before I went to Depot, I always slept in for an hour or so. Now I've joined, I've taken to waking up early." Jeremiah said, looking at the sun rising over Regina.
"That's what the Mounties do to you."
"Well all I can say is that I'm quite jealous of all of you."
"Why?"
"You have pants."

On that cue, every single alarm clock that was set to 5:30am went off, and soon, everyone awoke. The lights were turned on, and people got out of their beds. Some people went to the toilet, and some went for a shower. Jeremiah decided to get a shower, and by the time the last person awoke, Jeremiah had hung his clothes on a rail, and was showering with the other men. People sung in the shower, and Jeremiah asked someone to scrub some parts he couldn't reach without sitting on the tiles. At first, some people thought it was too weird and disgusting, but someone decided to help wash down his underside. He wasn't so sure about his penis area, but Jeremiah decided it didn't need washing anyway.

After drying himself off, Jeremiah walked back, holding his t-shirt, and put on his uniform, making sure the epaulettes were at a good angle. He also put on his tie with tie holder, and then checked himself in a mirror. He deemed himself to be good. Soon, everyone had showered and got their clothes on, and were prepared to go to breakfast in the canteen.

Suddenly, everyone hastily began making their beds. Jeremiah wondered what was going on, and pretty soon, he got his answer.
"Inspection, Jeremiah, get your things out, and tidy up, and fast!" Someone said. On that cue, Jeremiah threw open his cupboard door and looked at the inspection guidelines. He quickly closed his door, and began laying out some of his uniform on his bed, starting with his ten-gallon on his pillow.

The inspector had finished inspecting Troop 9, and had given the whole dorm a push-up punishment over someone's hairline. He was walking over to the Troop 10 barrack, and in it, Jeremiah was panicking over his severely-creased bed. Some other cadets knew they were going to be in trouble, and they hoped for mercy. They took position in front of their beds once they had finished preparing their cabinets, and soon, the whole dorm went silent.

The door creaked open, and in came the inspector. He took a look around, and noticed that the whole dorm had tried their best. He deemed it to be okay until he saw Jeremiah's bunk. For a start, his duvet was on the floor, and so was his pillow. The duvet had a lot of creases in it, but it was to be expected for the newest cadets in Depot.
"Jeremiah, about the bunk, why must you sleep on the floor?" The inspector asked Jeremiah.
"Well sir, I have an experience of snapping bed frames and couches, and this time, I'm not risking snapping the bed." Jeremiah said - in total, he had damaged 6 beds and 4 couches in his lifetime.
"And that's your excuse, Allis?"
"Also because I'm too wide to fit on the bed fully."
"Hmm. Your hair is okay, and so is your equipment, I'll let you off. For now."

Troop 10 had just missed out on the ultimate punishment. Jeremiah didn't know what to do about his bed for now, since the first Drill class had not begun, and as it turned, this was a mock inspection. The news of that proved not to be very popular with everyone, and a lot of the cadets of Troop 10 went to breakfast in a bad mood. Jeremiah had to be pushed through the door, but he eventually got breakfast, and once he did, he sat with Harold once again, soon joined by others.
"Harold, we doing this again, I see?" Jeremiah asked as he put his knife and fork into the breakfast meal.
"Yeah, still haven't got any more friends." Harold, who was beginning to feel lonely, said.
"Well there's a bunch of guys filling the benches, so I don't think you'll be alone.

"Excuse me, is this whole half of the table taken?" A cadet intending to sit at Jeremiah's table asked.
"Well if you can sit between my legs or squeeze on either end, those spots are not taken." Jeremiah replied. Four cadets managed to sit on that side in total - one at Jeremiah's tail area, one where Jeremiah's horse half began, and two between Jeremiah's four legs. It was slightly claustrophobic for one cadet, but he decided to deal with it.
"Just so you know, I have used the toilet before I came here, so I'm not going to pee on you two." Jeremiah said.
"Oh nice, really wanted to hear that." A cadet said.

After breakfast, Jeremiah's first class was, God help him, Drill. He trotted over to his dorm for his first Drill class, and it was the dreaded dorm lecture. The Corporal was this time teaching for real, and said that the inspection that morning was the only mock they would get. Two days later, it would be the real deal. They explained in full detail how to make their dorm clean, how no specks of dust were allowed, and how clothes were to be hung in a cupboard. Jeremiah was told that there would be a private conversation between him and The Corporal, but for most of the class, he joined in with the chorus of "Yes, Corporal."

The class ended for the rest of the dorm, and while everyone zipped up their trousers in their cupboards, Jeremiah was taken to the office where an assistant of Jeremiah was temporarily housed until Jeremiah left or graduated. He knew about the behaviour rule - he had already seen the results of the behaviour discipline, or Mod-B in RCMP terms, on the first day. But he was told of some things that were to be adapted for him, like two duvets being stitched together and some parts of the dorm rules being exempt for him, but he still did the ironing. And due to his increased height, he had to get some help. Polishing was going to be a rare practice for him, since he couldn't polish his own shoes or boots. But if he polished someone's shoes for someone, he would get 'brownie points', a feel-good score system.

Jeremiah was soon dismissed, and he took a good look at his duvet. Since someone would most likely get a bed when he leaves, he decided it would be the best idea to iron the bed and tidy it up generally. For now, he would only really use it to lay out his uniform for inspection. Until the next class, he had nothing to do.

Week two came quickly. By then, practically everyone around Depot had gotten to know him, and they only called Jeremiah 'horse guy' just for the sh*ts and giggles. But over that, he was excited about Firearms class, because even though he had experience, he wanted to try and shoot an automatic rifle. But that was to be a long way away. For the first class, he was given a tour of the building with the rest of his classmates. After the tour, he was given the list of what to do and not what to do with weaponry, and even though the list of not what to do was ridiculously huge, the class was becoming very giddy with excitement, and pretty soon, everyone was given a handgun, six rounds and a target so to stop the class from going mad with excitement.

Headphones and hunting glasses were worn, and everyone soon started attacking the paper gang. Jeremiah aimed down the sights, took a breath, and fired, all shots hitting the paper man. At least 1/4 of the rounds hit the target, and one of the 1/4 hit the centre. The teacher was impressed by his gun accuracy and control.
"Where did you learn to shoot so well? It looks like you've done this before." The teacher asked once Jeremiah was given his target.
"Sometimes I hunted in the woods up in Yukon. I've shot a few caribou on occasion, and I saved someone's life at least once." Jeremiah replied.
"Well I think you're going to enjoy this class. You've even hit it in the head!"
"So can I go again?"
"Um, no, the commissioner will kill me or something."

The next day was Tuesday, and the inevitable came along that day - Police Driving Unit. There was no way Jeremiah was going to succeed in that class unless Jeremiah was to do some of the class on foot. He could ride around in a van or high-roofed vehicle, but that was about it. What was he going to do? After breakfast, Jeremiah came to his CRO's (Cadet Resource Officer) office to see what he could do.
"Mr Deleon, I've got Police Driving Unit today, and um... I can't drive." Jeremiah said, standing in front of Mr Deleon's desk.
"Ah, I knew that was going to happen. For now, we're just going to see what happens along the way, and if you get somewhere, we'll shape and mould the class for you." Mr Deleon said.
"But what if I don't get into the class? What will happen?"
Mr Deleon rose from his desk. He was a man in his 50's, showing his age with greying hair and lots of wrinkles. He wore a brown suit, and glasses from a British MP from the 70s. "Well if you don't get the class, I would just have to fight for you to get a position somehow.

Jeremiah walked to the PDU building as the class began to start. Wearing body armour and a utility belt, he walked through the doors with ease, and was quickly seen by the instructors, who instantly knew this was not good. They racked their brains for anything they could do, but they were stuck for now. The instructors all walked over to Jeremiah, and one said, "I'm sorry, Jeremiah, this isn't the class for you. There is no way that we can teach you to drive, and if we can, it'll be too hard."
"Well drat. I knew this would end this way. I guess that's it, I can't stay." Jeremiah said, knowing that this was the end. He walked off, but the instructors noticed something about Jeremiah. He was fast.

As Jeremiah galloped away to pack his bags, the instructors quickly gave pursuit in a Crown Victoria training vehicle, and once they matched his speed, they noticed he was going 48kph. They picked up speed, and stopped their car in front of him, making Jeremiah stop for his own safety. The instructors got out of the car as cadets ran to see what was going on, and began to talk to Jeremiah once more.
"Jeremiah, we've had a change of heart. When you started... uh, galloping away, we saw that you were fast. If you could go as fast as our car, we thought that you would keep up with a speeder. Which is exactly what happened, Jeremiah. You're getting this class, but you're doing this 'on foot', Jeremiah." An instructor said.
"H...how?" Jeremiah asked, speechless.
"You do learn some of the same skills as the humans, but you do it on your four feet, and since you are half-horse, there is a chance that you will be mounted by the police."
"I've always wanted that to happen, sir."
"What, be mounted by the Mounted Police?"
"Yes, sir."
"There's a surprise. Right, we'll co-ordinate with the PDU heads, and we'll see if you can have some adapted classes. For now, you'll take some ordinary classes until then. Everyone, disperse and go back to your classes!"

Jeremiah stood up in the class this time, writing his notes on a raised desk. The instructors talked about how to drive while on patrol, what to do and what not to do, and other basic instructions. The first driving evaluation was due next week, and Mr Deleon was telephoning his superiors as Jeremiah was in class as to how Jeremiah would even have a substitute to a driving evaluation. Soon, Jeremiah left, and was then followed by a senior cadet on his way back to his dorm. He had his interests, and for some more coincidences, the senior cadet was also from Yukon.
"Jeremiah's your name, is it?" The senior cadet asked.
"Sure it is." Jeremiah said.
"Well Troop 3 has been talking about you. You're one of the recent ones, and Troop 3 is the closest in Depot to leaving. Maybe you'll be watching us for our practice sessions for graduation."
"I don't think Troop 10 has gotten that far yet."
"Oh, sorry, yeah, I'm a week away from grad."
"I'm really jealous of the pants."
"Oh, I have sympathy for you, bud. You can't wear pants, can you?"
"Sadly, no."
"Sorry to gloat, but these breeches are quite the eye-catcher. The bulges would look nice on you, y'know."
"But I can't wear them."
"See, do you have some regret for who you are?"
"Yeah, sometimes I do."
"Oh well I feel for you."

Jeremiah took a good look at the senior cadet's breeches, and he became increasingly jealous. The well-known breeches of an RCMP Mountie - the bulges up top, yellow striping down the sides, and a tight fit on the legs. It was then when he hatched a perfect plan - he'd cut off the bottoms of two pairs of breeches, make a cut down the back, and lace the backs together with laces to create 'boots'. While it would really get him in trouble with the tailors, it would make him less jealous.

At the end of Week 2, Troop 3 graduated. The senior cadet was posted in Montreal, and once he got word, Jeremiah began to worry about where he would be posted. For now, Mr Deleon had no idea what to do, so he dismissed him with a few words of encouragement. Week 3, and Jeremiah was on his run, and for the first time lapped someone. Everyone played a game to attempt to catch up to Jeremiah, but it was impossible, because Jeremiah was too fast for everyone. It was quite enjoyable, like ironing his duvet (which were actually two sewn together), which soon became therapeutic, and being stared at, which made him feel that he was there in the universe, not alone. But in terms of taxonomy, he was.

Constable Centaur - C4 - Substitute - P2
But all the way back in the Yukon Territories, there was someone who was alone. James. Two weeks into Jeremiah's police training, and James was already sinking into sadness. He was almost medically depressed. With Jeremiah not home, what was he supposed to do for his job? The TV had broken once again, but it was too cold outside, James decided, even though the temperature was slowly rising. A sea of black and white dots filled the TV, but James didn't care. He was lying on the sofa with his phone out, looking at his photo gallery which contained photos of him and Jeremiah doing various things - some even directly taken off the computer and put onto his phone. Next to him, a bottle of alcohol which sat on the floor. James had to fight himself to not take even a slight sip of the drink, even though he took it out of the fridge and laid it on the floor.
Jeremiah, meanwhile, was having breakfast in the canteen. People loved being around him now, and soon, Harold was coming out of his shell. He began to make his own friends, with the assistance of Jeremiah, and speaking of, Jeremiah was always getting his table crowded. Every now and then, a laugh came from the table whenever someone made a funny remark or a joke of some sort, and on some occasions, some higher-ranking officials would forego their private dinners to sit at Jeremiah's table. At first, everyone would be very quiet, then someone would crack a joke, and everyone would start laughing.

Today, Jeremiah was going to have his driving assessment, but drastically and hastily changed. There was a serious discussion which had just passed ten minutes on the table about this, and even Harold was involved.
"...Now I don't know much about how the PDU is going to handle a half-horse being assessed purely on their own locomotion, but I think that you have a chance of passing as wide as the turning circle of a speedboat." Harold said.
"What, very large?" Jeremiah asked. This was no laughing matter.
"Oh God, that was a bad metaphor. Look, let's just say, it's 50/50 in my opinion."
"Yeah, I don't even know if you can even pass." A senior cadet who had posted himself at the table next to Jeremiah's said.
"Well wish me luck, let's talk about something else." Jeremiah said, ending the discussion.

"GET UP AND GET OUT!" A cook yelled ten minutes later.
"Could you stop being so rude?" Someone shouted.
"NO, SHUT UP! SCRAM!" The cook yelled again, reinforcing her point. Everyone walked out, comparing the cook to Gordon Ramsay, and while they walked out, some made sure that Jeremiah got their best wishes and luck.

The time came for Jeremiah's evaluation shortly after. Jeremiah galloped on over to PDU and then waited for the instructor to finish up the current evaluation. The person who was being evaluated heard something from the instructor, slammed the door on him and stormed off, with someone shouting "Mod-B! This instant!" at him. Shortly after the fracas, the instructor changed his paperwork to a slightly different set of sheets, and walked over to Jeremiah.
"Allis, how are you doing today?" The instructor asked.
"Pretty anxious about this, I don't know how this is going to work." Jeremiah admitted.
"Yeah, we all are anxious over here, too. Now we will never be bribed or something like that, I literally didn't know why I just said that, so I'm going to give you a run-down of the course, and once you've got one trial run, you will be assessed for real."

Jeremiah was surprisingly not mounted by the instructor, and he was given one trial lap, with instruction. Jeremiah thought that traffic laws didn't really apply to him, and some didn't whatsoever. But there was some, like the stop signs, that still applied because he was a potential cause of a traffic accident. Once the brief lap was completed, Jeremiah took position on the starting line, while the instructor rode in what would be a PDU assessment car and put pen on paper. The assessment soon began, and Jeremiah pulled out all the stops (no pun intended) to make sure he got the highest grade. He changed between gaits when around, stopped at a stop sign appropriately, yielded for turns when necessary, and made sure that he followed all traffic laws which he was taught briefly.

Soon, Jeremiah's assessment ended. Once he got back in the building, he was handed his score. He was within the margins of passing - he had only just passed. Jeremiah was given a few words such as where he went wrong (I.E: speed, control, etc.), but he was also given the positives, and the instructor said he was really impressed by the improvised hand signals. Was it the hand signals that got him the winning points? He checked his papers, and found that his stopping (NOT braking) scored him the most points after cornering and others.

It was another good day for the lovable cadets of Troop 10. Even though someone was placed on Mod-B for a bruised leg, which excluded her from PDT class until she was better, there was no very low scores for any of the cadets, including Jeremiah. Because of his exhaustion and pressure of the evaluation, Jeremiah was told his first patrol drive would happen later that day, barely avoiding his first Mod-B. While there was a lull between classes, a cadet who slept two beds from Jeremiah's empty bed decided to introduce him to YouTube. Since Jeremiah's house didn't have a good internet connection, he could never use the site, but Depot had a reasonably good connection, so this was an ample opportunity.
"Jeremiah, you ever used a site called YouTube before?" The cadet asked.
"Well I've heard of it, but I've never used it. The Yukon has a bad cell service." Jeremiah said.
"Oh, so they do, there really isn't a good internet service up there. So this site is a site where you share videos for people to watch. It's one of the most popular sites on the internet. Since you've never got the chance to use it, I'll give you my phone to give it a whirl."

Jeremiah had a few things in mind when he was given the cadet's Galaxy Ace. The phone signal - which was provided by Rogers - was three bars out of four. So it wasn't the best, but it still was a shock to him. Jeremiah only had a Nokia 3310 for the reason of that it could fall out at any time, and this was the first time he had been given a touch-screen smart phone. He flicked around the home screen for a while, then was told to press the YouTube app after much impatience. Instantly, Jeremiah was besieged by the recommendations - police dash cam videos, RCMP Musical Ride videos and on one lone case, a video by some 'ballistic squid'. The cadet apologized about the latter, and said that his kid watched videos on his phone sometimes, and that he was trying to keep the kid off his phone for good. He also said he wanted to get in the Musical Ride someday, and that he was also training himself for driving a police vehicle.

Nevertheless, Jeremiah used the app to its potential, first watching a news video from three weeks ago about his arrival in Regina. Jeremiah couldn't believe it was that long ago - he must have been having fun in his time at Depot. He constantly watched many videos from the CBC YouTube channel, then found himself on 'The Wednesday'. Once the cadet who had given his phone heard the shots from the police that day, he ran over and politely asked him to turn it off. He said he was there on a vacation in Ottawa that day, and he had witnessed the shooter entering Parliament Hill.

Hours later, Jeremiah was called to Mr Deleon's office once more. He was impressed by his grading from his assessment, and congratulated him with an offering of root beer. Jeremiah rejected the offer, saying that one - he was not an alcoholic, and two - alcohol was banned. Jeremiah did what was right - he confiscated the root beer, and handed it in to his superiors. After the minor incident, Jeremiah was told that his third drill class would have a very foul-tempered drill sergeant, and he was told to not get him aggravated in any way.

The very next day, his third drill class, and Mr Deleon was right - this drill sergeant had a very low temper. There was a lot of yelling that day, and Jeremiah thought that he was going to get through this alright.

He was wrong.

"Stand still with your feet at 45 degrees damn it!" The drill sergeant yelled, annoyed at how everyone was suddenly at-ease. Everyone instantly stood to attention, except for Jeremiah, who couldn't stand to attention so easily and quickly. Eventually, Jeremiah arranged his hooves so both pairs had a 45 degree-wide space in between. But the drill sergeant was not amused.
"Horse man, you, yes I'm speaking to you. Get over here this instant." The drill sergeant ordered.
"Hey, why? I can't..." Jeremiah protested.
"Shut up, and get over here."

Jeremiah stood in front of the drill sergeant, who he slightly towered over, and tried to stand to attention quickly, but he couldn't. The drill sergeant absolutely lost it.
"You've got to be kidding me!" He yelled.
"What?" Jeremiah asked.
"THE FACT THAT YOU CAN'T GET YOUR FOUR FEET IN POSITION! YOU ARE PERFECTLY CAPABLE OF THAT, CADET!"
"But I..."
"SILENCE! I WANT YOU TO DROP AND GIVE ME TWENTY THIS INSTANT!"
"That isn't possible, sergeant!"
"YES IT IS! I'VE SEEN..."
"You're biased or something, sergeant?! Because I can't get on the ground and do push-ups! Why? Look at me!"

The drill sergeant looked at Jeremiah for a few seconds, but still insisted on yelling at him.
"This is downright abusive now." A cadet said.
"Yeah, I'm calling it racist now. Racism is illegal, so I'm going to contact someone." Another cadet next to him said. Someone was contacted, and while Jeremiah was verbally abused by the frenzied drill sergeant, an RCMP car came barrelling down to the drill hall, and two fully-fledged constables stepped out and ran inside.

"...I'M GOING TO FLOG YOU LIKE A HORSE IF YOU DON'T GIVE ME TWENTY, SO DO IT NOW!" The drill sergeant yelled. He had simply lost all control, and this kind of verbal abuse was enough to get him fired. Yes, he was a drill sergeant - his job was to scream and shout - but the words which were said were deemed racist to Jeremiah's kind, and the mention of flogging was a potential death threat. It was enough to get him put in the backseat of an RCMP Taurus and driven up to admin, where he would sign his resignation papers.

"Jeremiah, we are terribly sorry about the outburst from the sergeant. What was it that he did?" One of the highest-up in admin asked Jeremiah a few minutes later in the admin block.
"Well we were in the middle of our drill class when we were told to stand to attention. I can't stand to attention as quick and accurately as my fellow human cadets, and I took a few seconds to get my hooves straight. He calls me out, and I stand to attention once more, taking longer standing to attention, and he goes absolutely berserk, orders me to do twenty push-ups, which I can't do, which made him just go crazy. He calls me names, tells me I will not succeed, and threatens to flog me. I'm just glad the RCMP got him out of there." Jeremiah told the admin person.
"Alright." The admin person said with a sigh. "Well we are reviewing the case right now, so any information you can share about the perpetrator's activities would be more than welcome Jeremiah. Remember, we will be there for you in times of need until you leave."
"Okay, thank you, I'm just still shocked about how he just exploded into anger. It wasn't even anything really bad."

A constable escorted the drill sergeant, now officially fired, into the back of the RCMP Taurus, as he was arrested for racism charges. Stripped of his uniform, he was soon driven out of Depot to the RCMP detachment with actually contained real jail cells. Even better, Jeremiah watched him be driven off, and after the major fracas that could have seen him being sent to hospital, Jeremiah felt that his day had improved.

After 4:30, Jeremiah trotted through the melting snow back to Troop 10. The Canadian winter season was ending, and if Saskatchewan played its cards right, it would be the last snow fall of the year until next autumn. As Jeremiah trotted through slush and gritted snow, people from all around Depot who had heard of the commotion in Drill came to Jeremiah and asked him what had happened. Jeremiah told the same story to all those who asked - utter racism.

Once he made it back, Jeremiah grabbed a blank sheet of paper from a desk and a pencil, and asked for someone's trousers. Everyone reacted shocked and some reacted in a confused manner, but a female cadet walked out of her private bunk and gave him a pair of her trousers. After the slightly-stereotypical thanking, Jeremiah took out a measuring stick and measured first the part of his leg below his ankles, then the trousers below the ankles. He noted down the measurement of each leg, but then he decided that borrowing the cadet's trousers was a bad idea, because A, they were not breeches, and B, they had now yellow stripe down them. He asked if anyone had breeches, and the response was inevitably a no, because the cadets had not gotten that far into their training yet.

After hunting for some breeches, he took a pair from someone generous enough to give him some, and once he got back to his dorm, measured the breeches below the ankles, compared the size to his, and then started sketching a concept design of the 'boots' made out of two pairs of breeches and some laces. He took the exact measurements from a scrap of paper, and put dots where those measurements were. He drew the basic outline of the 'boots', then started on the details, first adding in the yellow stripes, and then moving on to shading. This was the second time he had drew a concept of something, and somehow, he had the skills to make an almost-perfect concept piece of clothing specially designed for him.

An hour of drawing later, he was done. Some cadets flocked to see the design, and some promised that they'd help in its creation once Jeremiah had gained the equipment needed. Jeremiah felt honoured to have help in the near future in the creation of his 'boots', and he hoped that he'll be wearing them on graduation day. That night, he received a letter from Whitehorse RCMP. It was the detachment commander, and he had decided to stay - he wanted to see Jeremiah get his badges before he leaves the RCMP. Jeremiah was honoured again by the news that he had singlehandedly made the commander keep his job. He went to sleep with a smile on his face.
Banned
Original Poster
#6 Old 10th Feb 2016 at 10:32 PM
Default Constable Centaur - C5 - Putting On the Serge - P1
Depot was really a great place for Jeremiah. He was getting himself in the local newspapers and RCMP officers clamoured to catch a glimpse of the centaur Mountie-in-training. Since the drill sergeant fracas, all drill sergeants were given a warning to take it easy on Jeremiah, and to exempt him from a few parts of the DDT classes that he couldn't do, like stand to attention in under a second and marching in beat with everyone else, which Jeremiah was practicing himself, but was told it was not necessary for him. The fracas had gotten himself more news coverage, a double-edged sword for the RCMP. One side was publicity, and the other was risk of trespassers and criminals trying to get to Jeremiah, now that they knew he existed.

While Jeremiah was in Depot, the commissioner of the RCMP stepped down due to controversy surrounding the bitter rivalry with both the Ontario Provincial Police and the Alaska State Troopers. Who replaced him was deemed to be very exciting news in Depot, the RCMP and some parts of Chicago, Illinois. Now I won't spoil, but there's a hint for you right there. Jeremiah knew who the replacement was by reading newspapers and watching CBC reports of his actions, and once word got out to Troop 10, everyone was drunk with excitement.

Week 4 came, and a few highlights of week 4 included Jeremiah learning to clean his gun, his first Mod-B over a cut on the left hind leg from sleeping on the floor, and the dreaded paperwork. Once he heard that he was getting paperwork, he let out a very loud sigh, and got on the floor, pen in hand, and started writing on his papers. Soon, Jeremiah had a really horrible thought - as a regular member of the RCMP, he would be on call 24/7. His days off would be very lucky days. On a lighter note, Jeremiah had been told he had the best shooting skills in the entire academy. Even security and senior cadets could not be on par with Jeremiah. Some blamed additional height, while some blamed his regular practice every week for those who knew him.

Five. On Troop 10's schedule, the nutritional lecture was this week. Some, including Jeremiah, were dreading this. Some of Jeremiah's food he brings home during winter is usually fish from his weekly ice-fishing, and Jeremiah was told that too much would not turn out well for him and James. Also, his hunting cost the lives of many caribou, deer, moose and other wild animals in the Canadian wilderness. Again, all that excess fat pumped into his stomach was going to have to be really cut down if he was to sustain his fitness for working in the force.

That week began the many Sergeant-Major parades he was to actually march in. Because of this, nearly every chance he got to practice in lull periods was taken, and finally, Jeremiah got the hang of marching in step with the humans. He was able to align the movements of all four legs, so the front and hind left legs moved in time, and the same for the right. This was due to begin on Friday, and it was only Tuesday when he got the hang of marching.

After attending his nutritional lecture on Wednesday, Jeremiah had noted a few key factors of his new nutritional guidelines, including that he must start eating meat less and Vitamin-C foods more. Even though he had mess three times a day, he wanted to cut down, so his next mess contained entirely healthy foods. For every mess now, Jeremiah had more and more healthy foods. This practice was also followed by many of Troop 10, and they all took measures to eat healthier.

Skipping forward a while, Friday evening was the first of Jeremiah's many Sergeant-Major parades. He was really nervous about this, but he toughened himself up mentally for the parade. Everyone else wearing boots was as always a major downer for Jeremiah, and his bulk messed up the arrangement of the Troop 11+ cadets. Nevertheless, Jeremiah took part in the parade, and hoped that everyone could keep their boots, because if someone needed to throw some out, he could get a free supply of laces, and it also looked nice on people like Harold. The parade was tense, and once it was over, Jeremiah sighed with relief.

Saturday, and due to the cut in his leg, which disabled him kneeling far forward, he was still on Mod-B. Against medical advice, he entered the Sam Steele Residences with a handful of cadets to perform building entries and searches. While kneeling down to check low objects and items caused great pain, he was not to be excused from the class, and managed to find the person inside a house within five minutes, kind of like a game of hide and seek.

The sixth week in, and Jeremiah got his first letter from James, who had really begun to kick into a depression. It read:
"Dear Jeremiah,
I'm in a medically-diagnosed depression right now. I just can't stand living in the house alone for six months without you livening up the place; I'm scared I'll turn to suicide. I know you're nearly two months into the academy, but I really need someone to help me right now. I would come and visit, but you joining academy and getting to Regina took a huge lump of cash out of our bank accounts, so I can't fly over to visit you without bankrupting ourselves.
Your loving friend,
James Garland"

Jeremiah was shocked. How James had suddenly fell into a depression had shocked him dearly. But aside from James getting closer and closer to suicide, Jeremiah had important milestones ahead of him that week. His PDT (Police Defensive Tactics) test was this week, and his hind leg had healed over, which meant he had the full ability to use his learnt skills to get the scores. But because of his weight, size and height, a lot of his defensive manoeuvres were trained away from other cadets, which meant that some cadets were about to feel nearly 650 kilograms possibly come crashing down on them.

Someone had to be sent to hospital over a sprained knee, but overall, Jeremiah had not caused any serious injuries. He managed to catch a lot of them off guard though with skills not taught to the human cadets. Because of his good techniques, he was given a good score, only a few points taken off for someone being whisked to hospital because of his sheer weight. But something much better - Troop 10 managed to keep their boots! Because of their tolerance of Jeremiah's difficulties and formation, a lot of things actually, Troop 10 were given high mentions, with some regarding the troop as their best in Depot's history. The drill sergeant was well impressed when the troop got into Drill, and unlike last week's Drill, congratulated Jeremiah for his effort. The drill sergeant even said that when he saw the troop in red serge, he would be proud.

The Officer-Violator Contact (OVC) class was held this week. Before that, Troop 10 and many other cadets were on call on Tuesday to scenarios, mostly compromised of disturbances. He joked that the people in disturbances would instantly shut up if they even saw a small part of Jeremiah, and that the situation would be resolved. But this was on par with a rainbow leading to a pot of gold, so when he actually got to the disturbance in the scenario, he narrowly avoided knocking himself out, and tried his hardest to resolve the situation. Needless to say, it was not a pass with flying colours. These calls got progressively harder, and Jeremiah began to stray into average-grade territory.

What was much harder however was the OVC class. Since Jeremiah was not in a vehicle while patrolling, he was more at risk of injury. He pulled over a traffic violator using hand signals, and employed a number of checks taught by his PDU teachers. He approached the vehicle as carefully as he could, to avoid risk of a random attack by the violator. Three tickets of ignoring traffic control devices and speed limits, and also excessive swerving were given to the role-playing cadet, and the 'traffic violator' was soon dismissed. Jeremiah got surprisingly high marks from this class, saying that all penalties were awarded well and that he had treated the scenario in the appropriate manner.

Se7en. The seventh week of cadethood began with a quiz on powers of arrest. Some questions seemed to get Jeremiah stuck, while others he knew right off the bat. His quiz was handed in a few minutes before the quiz ended, and thankfully, he had barely succeeded. That Tuesday, he learnt the 10 and alpha codes, of which he would hopefully use on a portable radio on his belt, and he basically took a geography class to remember city names, street names and other names, which would help him out in the long run. More good news for Troop 10 - they got their marching orders, which meant that they did not need to run everywhere. Although exhaustion was commonplace in Drill, the effort displayed was enough to gain them marching orders.

The eighth week was very eventful indeed. That Monday was the spraying of the OC spray, or pepper spray in PDT, and to Jeremiah, it was the worst experience of his life. See, when he was sprayed, for some reason, the trigger of the spray canister was stuck on, and there was no way of stopping it. While the instructor hastily tried to stop the spray from blinding Jeremiah, Jeremiah took much pain and started getting burns across his face. He screamed in agony as the malfunctioning canister was shook around in an attempt to turn it off.

Soon, a cadet ripped the canister out of the instructor's hand, and threw it at the wall, causing it to leak. Someone dialled 911 and an ambulance loaded with paramedics rushed to the PDT building to treat to Jeremiah's first-degree burns. After helping him out of the building - he was temporarily blind - the paramedics did their job efficiently, and said that the wounds were not severe, and that he was only blind for a few minutes. For now, they said, he should have a cold shower.

With the cold weather still hanging around for a bit, Jeremiah practiced shooting with winter clothes on, and he didn't really shine on that front at all. Because of the amount of clothes, he couldn't aim straight enough, and heat exhaustion bore down on his upper half. Also, the eye protection kept fogging up, and Jeremiah's fingers kept slipping from the gun because of his gloves. From that point, he considered that week to be the worst week he has had in academy.

But there was one thing that improved Week 8, and that was his second kit issue. For start, he got another component of the red serge - his 'Sam Browne' belt. In fact, Troop 10 got their 'banana pants' as well - the typical RCMP breeches, very dark blue with a yellow stripe down the side. If he managed to get two used, but intact pairs of breeches and boots, he could take the laces from the boots and cut off the bottoms of the breeches to create the 'boots' he always wanted.

Drill was saluting class, which was actually a tricky thing to master. Some people just stabbed themselves in the eyes with their fingers, while others didn't get their saluting right. It was one of the bad, yet funny classes, with the drill sergeant of the week having a good sense of humour, and at one time, made everyone laugh by proving someone's math skills very wrong. More minor injuries came with the final fitness class, which was composed entirely of push ups. Jeremiah did something else, which landed him on Mod-B once again, but it was worth it.

A few months later, Jeremiah had absolutely blown his instructors away with his intent to succeed, and how his difficulties had shaped his career. He had been shipped to multiple RCMP detachments around Saskatchewan, which for the first time in a long time, required him to be saddled. Someone from the Musical Ride shipped out one of their saddles for Jeremiah to wear as his own, and once he was saddled, an RCMP officer wearing breeches would always mount him. Many of the constables didn't have much experience with riding, which meant that on some occasions, a constable would fall off Jeremiah's saddle onto the asphalt.

The constable riding Jeremiah would tell him of what he was to do in some circumstances, like traffic stops, and that he would wait on the hard shoulder if someone had already taken the traffic stop. There was one slightly dangerous call of a domestic disturbance with someone armed with a gun, although this time, both Jeremiah and the constable took this call, which was resolved in a few minutes, gun taken away.

On another subject, the commissioner had heard of the many S/M Parades Troop 10 was in, and the commissioner decided to place Jeremiah at the front of the parade to ensure that the order of the S/M Parade was not mucked up, and also for vanity. In the lull periods of Week 12, Jeremiah took at least half an hour polishing everything. Unbeknownst to the tailors, however, Jeremiah had taken laces of two pairs of boots, and hid them from view, even when his bed was inspected.

Week 16's events were overpowered by the staffing interviews. The interviewer said that Jeremiah was staying firmly in the Yukon, but he didn't know which detachment of the Yukon RCMP he was going in. Jeremiah personally hoped that it was the Whitehorse RCMP, because it is closer to home and requires less moving between home and work. They were certain, however, that because of the distance of Jeremiah's current house, if he was shipped to Whitehorse, he had to move into a new house. Jeremiah wrote a letter to James about this, who at the time was taking medical treatment to get out of the depression. Once he had heard the news, James began packing up minor objects in the house, because he knew that he was moving soon.

Three weeks later, Jeremiah completed his final PARE. The commissioner would have turned up to watch it, but he had fallen ill, so he was out of action for a week or so. Nevertheless, Jeremiah completed his PARE within the allotted time, and once that was over, word got out that the commissioner was to attend Troop 10's graduation. The whole troop metaphorically blew the roof of the dorm off with excitement, with one of the world's most famous RCMP commissioners attending the graduation. Jeremiah's red serge was pretty much as complete as it could get, barring limitations, like the problem of no pants. It was that week that 'Operation Tailor' began.

Once Jeremiah had checked himself in the mirror while wearing his complete red serge outfit, he gave the troop the go-ahead to scavenge for two used pairs of breeches to destroy for Jeremiah's 'boots', and two cadets faked losing their breeches to get a new pair. While they paid a large lump of cash and got a major lecture, the two cadets came back with used breeches, and after four pairs of upholstery scissors were given out, the process of cutting began. Measurements were taken, and the tops and bottoms of the breeches were cut away. They knew they were going to be shouted at, but they didn't care. Everyone in Troop 10 managed to chip in after third mess, and in stages, all four 'sleeves' of the 'boots' were soon created.

Jeremiah supervised the creation of the 'boots', helping out some of his troopmates who got confused or stuck on some metaphorical hurdles. Soon, all four 'boots' had been cut down the middle, and it was then time to add the laces. Someone had bought a lace hole punch from Walmart on a day off, which helped dearly in the making of the laces. Once the lace holes were completed, the probably hardest part of the 'boots' creation process began - the lacing of the 'boots'. In a criss-cross, the laces filled the holes, securing the 'boots' hole in an almost-circular position. These were stuck in place, and once the finishing touches were done, Jeremiah tried on the 'boots' for himself, and once all four were tightened on his legs, he walked around for a bit in them, and came to the final verdict.
"I really do think you guys did a great job. Even though this'll cost us a lot of money and possibly some privileges, in what I've seen in these one-and-a-half hours, you all served me well. I guess I won't be so jealous anymore, eh?" Jeremiah told everyone, and everyone had a slight chuckle. With the time nearly 10pm, everyone went to sleep, with Jeremiah still wearing his 'boots'.

The next morning was a lovely spring day. The birds were singing in the trees, the wind was slow and the sky was blue. The beauty was only broken by the extremely angry cry of "JEREMIAH!"
While on his way to inspect Troop 1, a corporal noticed two pairs of laceless boots and breeches which could be considered very tight shorts. He peered through the window, and noticed a yellow stripe coming out from Jeremiah's large duvet. The time was nearly 5:30, and there was no time for Jeremiah to get rid of the evidence. He had been spotted.

All troops were awakened early by the shouting. The corporal entered Troop 10's dorm, and slammed the door shut. Jeremiah flinched as he suddenly woke up, and hastily stood up, 'boots' in full view. The corporal stormed over to Jeremiah, and ordered him straight to admin, not even a chance for a shower. Troop 10 were also ordered to get dressed and head to the admin block as well, judging that there was some involvement.

"Do you know how much it costs to replace two pairs of those pants?!" The tailor yelled.
"Well it's not my fault..." Jeremiah began.
"We saw the plans, Jeremiah, which is credible evidence." Mr Deleon said. He was on the side of Troop 10, but had to break the news to him.
"This was planned from the start, because I was jealous of how everyone wore pants. I didn't like how my legs were naked, so I wanted a substitute myself. My fellow cadets chipped in, and once we had the components, we took one and a half hours to work on them."
"Jeremiah, if this was Home Economics class, I'd give you all an A for effort. But this isn't, Jeremiah. I'm going to contact the commissioner to help me decide your fate." The head of Depot said. He got on the phone to the commissioner, who because of his generosity let Jeremiah keep his position in Depot, and his 'boots'. The coalition of RCMP administration employees let him go, no warning given, and Troop 10 did not receive any punishment at all.

Between Week 19 and 24, Jeremiah tied up a few loose ends before his graduation. He went to Troop 14, who by Week 20, was in their last week in Depot. It was there that he finally learned some basic Inuit from Winston Bhutaku, which would help him dearly for his confirmed detachment placement in Whitehorse. They only had to move a few miles into Whitehorse, and the government had commissioned a TV show to help build their new house. Also that week, the cost of the two destroyed breeches was paid with both investments by James and Troop 10.

Week 24. The final week. His first exam was not Emergency Vehicle Operation, since he really couldn't do that, but the absolutely terrifying Stress Course of Fire test. Flashing lights and blaring sirens, loud noises including shouts and gunshots, and hastily struggling to get weaponry. Jeremiah's weapon of choice was a wood-plated Remington shotgun, which took care of most of the 'perps' in the test. This test almost broke him due to the sheer amount of confusion and panic, but he was glad that this was not an actual scenario.

The last week. Jeremiah wanted James to see his achievements when he came. But will he gain the courage to fly over?

Constable Centaur - C5 - Putting On the Serge - P2

The next morning was a Tuesday, and it was photo taking time. The day began with a Commanding Officer's (CO's) inspection, which Jeremiah and for the first time, 90% of Depot passed without any discrepancies. After that, Jeremiah and the rest of Troop 10 put on their red serge, with Jeremiah tying his 'boots' to make them secure. His Stetson clipped every single door he went through, and it even fell off once. But once he made it to the photo-taking building, he joined the rest of Troop 10, rising over the sea of scarlet tunics and beige Stetson hats. It took time for him to get to his photo taking, but once he did, the photographers noticed that the background was too short, as his torso-up was too tall for it. Someone lifted up the background, and Jeremiah's service and grad photos were soon taken. Once that was done, a few more cadets had their photos taken, and soon, he joined the whole troop for a troop photo, taking position in centre next to Harold.

Once Troop 10 had all of their photos taken, everyone took off their red serge, and went to the courthouse for the APS Mock Trials. Files that have been worked on for the past few weeks were poked and prodded in a metaphorical sense by the defence counsel, and solid files were made no longer solid by the counsel. It was kind of a stressful class, and Jeremiah was left in a slightly bad mood after his hard work was ever so slightly ruined.

Wednesday was an eventful one. Jeremiah's final PDT class was a two-person handcuffing class. This was a hard class, with Jeremiah having a small cut in his arm at the end of the class. But the day ended pleasantly with the Regimental Mess, with the main brass of Depot joining Troop 10 in the canteen. Mr Deleon and a few corporals sat with Jeremiah that day, and they all talked about the future of Jeremiah, and how his position in the RCMP would change the RCMP in Yukon. Jeremiah also said that he had a personal assistant, who at the time was dangerously close to suicide.

Thursday, and Jeremiah took part in the peer performance - something that was practised every Drill class. Jeremiah was in time with everyone, managed to perform everything in the right order, and basically perform a dress rehearsal for the final performance on graduation day. Everyone else managed to succeed in the performance, nothing bad happened, and mistakes were not very noticeable. A loud bout of applause came from the spectators of the performance, and Jeremiah began thinking about James. Surely he must be preparing to get on a plane to Regina.

That Friday evening, he did just that. Jeremiah waited hours at Regina International Airport after his classes for James to leave the airport, and he had got word that he was in fact on a plane. In his cadet uniform with 'boots', Jeremiah waited two hours at the customer service desk with other cadets until James' private plane touched down, and once he passed through customs, James made his way to the exit for a heart-warming reunion.

He saw Jeremiah in the corridor, and started running with his suitcases in hand to him, and Jeremiah nearly knocked over a few signs to meet up with him. The two met in the middle, and James dug his face into Jeremiah's torso, hugging him, reminiscent of an army soldier's return.
"I really missed you, Jeremiah." James said, his voice muffled slightly.
"I know, and I understand. You never thought I could make it to graduation." Jeremiah said once James peeled off Jeremiah's body armour.
"No I never!"
"But you said that one time..."
"Ah forget it, you're going back to Whitehorse on Sunday, and all of your stuff has been moved to the house. I think this show is Extreme Makeover or whatever it's called."
"So they blew up the old house?"
"Well they threw a truck in it."
"Ouch, that must hurt."
"Well I was there to watch it, and y'know what? You are going to love the house when you get in it."

A few minutes of talking later, James asked how to get to the Best Western hotel on Albert Street. Jeremiah got out a map of Regina, gave a few directions, and once James mounted him, set off to the hotel. Once they made it there, they passed gawking tourists and Regina citizens, and James checked in to the hotel. Unfortunately, James' room was on the third floor of the hotel, and Jeremiah was not allowed to use the stairs, which banned him completely from James' room. Once they waved goodbye, Jeremiah galloped back to Depot to get some sleep. Saturday was his last full day of classes in Saskatchewan, and Sunday was the beginning of 48 hours of graduation.

Saturday was a busy one, with the final classes finished, and more possessions shipped back to Whitehorse. In the lull periods, Jeremiah practiced the drill display with the drill sergeant, albeit without the rest of Troop 10. On that day, he finally mastered the routine, and once that was done, the two had a conversation about leaving.
"Jeremiah, we're all going to miss you when you graduate." The drill sergeant told Jeremiah, who was lounging on the drill hall floor.
"Yeah, I understand. These twenty-something weeks have been the best to worst weeks of my life."
"Did you ever sue us for the OC spray incident?"
"No, but I think I'll sue the pepper spray makers."
"Those were some bad burns, weren't they?"
"Very."
"And the 'breechgate' as everyone's calling it here, how big was the fine?"
"$2,250 dollars."
"Ouch, that's a lot. Worth it, isn't it?"
"I mean, I didn't want to be naked on the underside, so technically, I'm fully clothed."
"Well we'll all miss you; you'll go down in the books, won't you?"
"First police centaur? Yeah, that's going down in the history books."
"Well I have to go now, the CO needs me."

On Sunday morning, the commanding officer learnt that the commissioner was occupied for the whole weekend by a fatal shooting of a constable in Halifax, so he was not to attend, but the drill display was to be recorded for him on Monday. Also, Jeremiah began shipping his things to Whitehorse, using the given address he was handed by James. Once he got changed in Walking-Out Order that morning, he called James, who said he was getting changed into something formal, and said when he was to turn up. Quickly, James got changed into some clothes, but Jeremiah had to go to the chapel to ecumenical ceremony, which James had to rush to with his camera.

James made it just in time for the ecumenical ceremony, which Jeremiah got bored of, simply because he was an atheist. He strummed his hoof on the floor as the ceremony went on, and once it was over, he felt very relieved. He started walking around with James and talked, and waited for 10:30am to come so they could attend the Family Workshop.
"So anything interesting happen while you were in training?" James asked.
"Well a lot happened, including getting a burn to the face with pepper spray." Jeremiah replied.
"Really?"
"Yeah, the can wouldn't... turn off, and I got a massive first-degree burn to the face."
"Oh wow, what else happened?"
"Look down at my ankles, and you'll see."

James looked down at Jeremiah's ankles, and saw the 'boots' which stretched up to his kneecaps. He was relatively impressed.
"Wow, how did these get made?" James asked.
"The whole troop helped out. We took two pairs of breeches and cut them up, and got some laces from two pairs of boots to secure them on my legs. Our superiors hounded us down, but it was worth it." Jeremiah replied, brushing off a speck of dirt from the hind left 'boot'.
"How much was the fine?"
"$2,250. We always earn $500 every week however, so it wasn't a big deal."
"That's a lot. What time is it? Family Workshop is at half past ten."
Jeremiah checked his watch, and said, "Twenty-two minutes past."
"We've got eight minutes. Jeremiah, we need to go right now."
"But it isn't that far!"
"Oh, either way, we should get running."

The two quickly got to the Family Workshop, and once they got in, they listened to the person who told family and friends of graduating cadets about the hard new life as a police officer in the RCMP. As Jeremiah was listening, he noticed his hooves were weathered and battered after six months of constant activity. The potential for injury with worn hooves, he thought, was going to be high, so he decided that after he graduated, he would have some horseshoes fitted.

In the two hour workshop, James learnt a lot about an RCMP officer's work in keeping the peace, and he wrote some key facts down on a notepad to be adapted for files, questionnaires, and other things. Many times, Jeremiah said "I can't do that." to things he knew full-well he couldn't do because of many reasons. Once the workshop was complete and the visitors finished up their last activities, Jeremiah broke the news to James.
"James, I think I need some horseshoes fitted." Jeremiah said, constantly being stared at and photographed by visitors.
"Oh I was hoping that wasn't going to happen. How bad is it?" James asked. He feared this would be said, since Jeremiah insisted not to have them fitted.
"It's not looking good. How much would it cost?"
"For you, you'd probably get a discount, but I think it'll be a lot."

James was shown the damage, and he noted down in big bold letters that Jeremiah needed some horseshoes very soon. Since Jeremiah had lost his meal ticket, James didn't have his brunch, so James said he had to leave, because he needed to go to a Tim Hortons to get a quick bite. The rest of Sunday was full of packing, and as a relief to the gardeners, cleaning up the poop in the grass for hopefully the final time. The dorms absolutely reeked of the stuff, and word got out that the grass was so badly damaged that it had to be replaced.

Monday morning was official graduation day. Jeremiah's first thought was disappointment that the commissioner couldn't attend, but a death in the force was understandable, and even still, he would be watching it. While Jeremiah was on his way with James to the swearing-in ceremony, the two saw a candlelit memorial near the drill hall, so Jeremiah went out of his way to pay his respects to the fallen officers. Once that was over, valuable time was running out, so in full Walking-Out Order, Jeremiah galloped over to the drill hall, with James, who was in the same suit as yesterday, having to sprint there to catch up.

Once Jeremiah nearly broke down the door getting in, he took position with the rest of Troop 10 and listened as everyone's phone cameras clicked. James sat down with the visitors, and at 10:30am, the swearing-in ceremony began. Harold, surprisingly, was first to swear in, accepting the three oaths, and once Harold was done, he slightly tipped his Stetson at Jeremiah as a sign of gratitude. He knew he never was going to see him again - he was posted in Nova Scotia - but Jeremiah felt that his work was him was done. Harold was a more talkative and happy person, gladly joining in with others and having a few laughs every now and then.

Jeremiah was saved until last. Because of this, James watched as Jeremiah's troop graduated with a slight impatience. He was still happy about the fact that Jeremiah was finally coming back to the territories, and because of this, he had snapped out of his depression. After nearly an hour, Jeremiah swore his oaths. First, the Oath of Allegiance.
"Do you solemnly swear that you faithful and bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second, Queen of Canada, her heirs and successors according to the law?" Someone who read out the oaths asked Jeremiah.
"I do so swear that I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second, Queen of Canada, her heirs and successors according to the law." Jeremiah swore. Next, the Oath of Office.
"Do you solemnly swear that you will faithfully, diligently and impartially execute the required duties of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, and will well truly obey and perform all lawful orders and instructions that you will receive, without fear, favour or affection of or towards any person?"
"I do so swear that I will faithfully, diligently and impartially execute the required duties of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, and will well truly obey and perform all lawful orders and instructions that I will receive, without fear, favour or affection of or towards any person." Jeremiah swore, and finally, the Oath of Secrecy, something Jeremiah wasn't so pleased about. Was he swearing the wrong version of the oaths?
"Do you solemnly swear that you will keep absolutely secret all knowledge or information of which you may become possessed throughout your position in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, that you will not, without due authority in that behalf, discuss with members of the Force, or any other person, either by word or letter, any matter which may come to your notice through your employment with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police?"
"I do so swear that I will keep absolutely secret all knowledge or information of which I may become possessed throughout my position in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, that I will not, without due authority in that behalf, discuss with members of the Force, or any other person, either by word or letter, any matter which may come to my notice throughout my employment with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police." Jeremiah swore, concluding his three oaths. Everyone was dismissed from the hall shortly after, and the 15 minute gap between oaths and lunch began.

"Is it true about the whole secrecy thing?" James asked once the two had gotten out.
"I think the man was given the oaths from the 1960s. I just had to go along with it." Jeremiah said, remembering something he saw on the internet.
"Oh no, that's not a good thing. Someone is going to lose their job now."
"Well yeah, that is understandable."
"I've noticed that the way you speak has become more... formal recently."
"That is what academy does to you."
"So it does. Well you are wearing the uniform of the most recognized police force in the world..."
"Except from a lot of third world countries which didn't have the RCMP visit on peacekeeping or some first world people who has never seen or heard of the RCMP before."
"Oh yeah. Wow, you have learned a lot."
"I have. James, your shoelace is untied."
"I'm not falling for that again, Jeremiah."
"No, honestly, it must have tugged something and become untied."

James looked down, thanked Jeremiah for the tip, and noticed that yes, it was untied. He tied his shoelaces, and then kept walking on.
"Have you ever been mounted in academy?" James asked.
"Many times. I think the only topics I was mounted in for learning purposes is Police 'Driving' Unit, which I had to skip out of most of, and detachments. A constable always seemed to fall off for some reason when they rode me." Jeremiah replied.
"Well it must hurt to fall on concrete."
"And I nearly choke when the saddle is put on. I think I'll need it more in these next few months."
"You got saddled?!"
"Yes, I did, is it some kind of nice surprise?"
"Jeremiah, I've never seen you saddled before, I can't believe you didn't tell me."
"Oh, sorry, I was in a rush, I needed to iron my duvet."
"Oh okay, I understand now."

At 11:45, lunch was held in the canteen. Jeremiah brought along James, and joined the other graduates. He met friends and family of graduating cadets, told them his story, and basically got them interested while they had their lunch. Jeremiah had a salad, which James questioned, Jeremiah stating healthy eating guidelines. He also said that hunting and ice-fishing was to go on the decline over too much meat and fish, and a low amount of Vitamin-C in his body. He said that the Vitamin-C reserves were building up quickly, and that James should try eating healthy too.

After 12:30, Jeremiah rushed over to the parade grounds to prepare for the Sergeant-Major's parade, leaving James alone for 20 minutes. Troop 10 was to be positioned in the front row, as the graduating troop, and Jeremiah was to take centre behind the leader. They have been practicing the routine for many weeks, and today the practice was going to pay off. At 12:45, James stood with spectators, like before, and Jeremiah spruced himself up for the parade and inspection. His hair was seriously trimmed and flattened, there were little to no creases, and he had cleaned himself thoroughly with the assistance of two members of the troop.

Five minutes later, the S/M Parade kicked off. The Commanding Officer was present, a little disappointed that the commissioner had not turned up, which meant that he was alone. The parade took up most of the time, with Jeremiah walking in beat as learned with minor difficulty. Once the parade was over, James had filled up half of his camcorder's memory, and Jeremiah's final inspection was about to take place. He was first, and the inspectors took their time, checking hairline, creases and even how trimmed the tail was. He passed his final inspection relatively quickly. The other's weren't so fortunate, with around 42 out of all troops - 2 out of Troop 10 - failing the inspection.

Once the S/M parade was over, there were two more major events left on Jeremiah and James' checklists before they left Saskatchewan for hopefully the final time. There was the Dismounted Cavalry Drill Display & Badge Presentation, followed by the Formal Graduation Banquet, which required a change of Jeremiah's outfit. Sadness was slowly building up in Jeremiah's emotional system as the day slowly began to close, but on the fascia of Jeremiah, there was no expression of sadness.

Ten minutes between S/M parade and Dismounted Cavalry Drill was all Jeremiah needed to take a quick toilet break, specifically a No. 2, behind some parked cars, as a permanent reminder that he was there, then when that was done, he raced to the drill hall to prepare for one of the biggest performances, if not the biggest, in his entire life. Once he got inside, he noticed that there was a CBC camera set up on a plinth in the spectator area - the display was going to be on the news! Or at least the commissioner was going to watch it. Once the drill sergeant gave his briefing, Troop 10 was confirmed to be on the news.

1:30PM, and the performances again. Marching in beat, crashing of boots on the floor, and the occasional shout and arm stretching basically filled the 10+ minutes of the performance, which surprisingly and controversially, got live coverage on CBC. They had finally been allowed to drop the 'John Doe' pseudonym, and were allowed to use the name 'Jeremiah Allis' without any legal implications. Many people tuned their televisions to the CBC News channel to watch the performance, even the freaking Prime Minister of Canada.

After the long performance, the badge presentation ceremony began. Harold, again was first, and Jeremiah was last. The Commanding Officer felt proud of Troop 10, and handed everyone their badges while smiling back at them and shaking hands, photographers and the like clicking cameras. The CBC camera was awaiting Jeremiah to be handed his badge so it could air a non-live video of the event. Almost an hour later, the CBC camera started filming again, because Jeremiah was being handed over his badge. He marched over, slammed his front left hoof on the wooden floor (which caused a dent to appear), then gladly accepted his RCMP badge. The Commanding Officer handed over Jeremiah's badge - 7103 - and once he shook Jeremiah's hand, patted him on his side as a means of saying "Good luck."

Once Jeremiah was handed his badge, he stood statuesque with the rest of his troop to receive his final commands from the C/O after a valedictorian address by the man himself, and concluded by saying, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, Troop 10." This was recorded live as well, and garnered much applause and a lot of reconsidered reviews and complaints were soon ordered to be ignored by those who sent them.

The day ended with the Formal Graduation Banquet, which surprisingly was a very long time away from the previous event. In between the time, Jeremiah and James tried to keep themselves entertained.
"So those badges on your sleeve, what do they mean?" James asked.
"Well those are gun training badges - I got 'Sharpshooter' in pistol, shotgun and automatic rifle training." Jeremiah said. It was true, FTU was the class he got the highest marks in.
"You're that good, Jeremiah, I underestimated you, didn't I?"
"Yeah, who knows, I might stop a whole bank robbery in one shot."
"Yeah right, Jeremiah, you'll stop a bank robbery like that when unicorns are proven to exist."
"Please don't say that ever again."

An hour later, James and Jeremiah were running out of things to do. Since the ceremony began at 6:30PM, there was 3 hours and 45 minutes between Drill and Banquet, and at the time, Jeremiah and James had 2 hours and 45 minutes themselves.
"Jeremiah, how did you do the stuff in athletics, like boxing or whatever?" James asked.
"Well it had to be adapted for me many times, but otherwise, it was pretty similar to human techniques." Jeremiah said.
"Well could you show me?"
"Do you want broken bones or something? I wouldn't... fine."

Jeremiah kept walking along with James, and then suddenly slammed him on the ground, ordering to put his hands behind his head. Jeremiah dropped to the floor and put James' hands behind his back, and mimed handcuffing him. A few seconds later, he let out a quiet chuckle, and let James stand back up.
"Wow, that was terrifying." James said, with a slight sense of nervousness.
"Well you have to get them to surrender to the law in some way." Jeremiah said.
"Oh, so you'll terrify them to surrender?"
"Hopefully not."

Two and a quarter hours later. Jeremiah left James' side to get ready for the banquet. He went to his dorm, which was nearly entirely emptied out, and put on a few perfumes and flattened his hair once again. He stared at his badge for a few minutes and thought about the days ahead, and how it won't be as safe and calm as Depot. After taking fifteen minutes preparing, Jeremiah walked out of the dorm, and patted his hand on the doorframe. This was one of the last times he'd walk out that door.

The night was slowly beginning to fall on the nice Saskatchewan summer evening. It rained last night, but the rain dried up over the course of the day. The banquet in the Drill hall was nearly ready, and the graduates were beginning to assemble. By that time, James had nearly filled his camera, and it was also low on charge. He brought his charger along with him, and once the cocktails began to be served, the doors were opened, and Jeremiah and James walked in with the others. James made a beeline for a plug, while Jeremiah made his way over to Harold, who was talking to his children.
"Harold, you never told me you had kids." Jeremiah said to Harold, who had stopped talking to his children.
"Well Jeremiah, this is John and Brooklyn, Brooklyn, John, this is Jeremiah. You've heard about him, right?" Harold said, introducing Brooklyn (a girl) and John (a boy), who were not very sure about meeting Jeremiah.
"John, Brooklyn, I promise I will not hurt you. No matter what you may conceive, I'm a good guy, okay?"

The two 11 year olds thought for a few seconds, then Brooklyn said, "By your mother's life."
"I don't have a birthing-mother." Jeremiah said dejectedly.
"Oh, sorry. I guess you promise then. Fair enough."
The cocktails were served shortly after. The music kicked in, and Jeremiah walked over to James, who was waiting for his camcorder to charge. He then struck up a conversation with him.
"Have you seen my badge? It's really cool." Jeremiah asked, still quite amazed at how he made it to this stage.
"You never showed me, Jeremiah, I want to see." James replied. Jeremiah dug his badge out of his tunic pocket, and opened the flap, showing the badge, which had lots of gold, the commonwealth crown, and the words 'Maintiens Le Droit' in the centre.
"7103. That's my badge number if you don't know." Jeremiah said.
"Wow, I love how you came all this way to get this." James replied.
"It was well worth the pain. But I don't think police work will be as easy as training."
"Jeremiah, don't get too complacent, please. I don't want you getting shot."

A number of toasts took place that night. The dinner began at seven o'clock, and for the whole night, Troop 10 let their hair down for the first time in the 24 weeks they had in academy. One time after dinner was served and Jeremiah had finished his, he saw John walking over to the cocktails bar, and got up to stop him, saying, "John, you're underage, you know much better."
"But it's a party!" John protested.
"I don't care if it is a party; the law states that you can't drink alcohol if you are underage. If I had my orders, I could arrest you."
"Okay, you got me there."

"So when are we leaving?" Jeremiah asked.
"The government have booked a plane which takes off at eleven tonight, so you'll be back in Whitehorse in the next morning. You sure everything has been packed away to be sent back?" James said.
"This banquet ends at ten, so I have an hour, I guess?"
"Yes, I can ask the pilot to take off early if we arrive way too early."
"Then we should do that."

A few hours of eating, drinking, dancing and chatting, there was a keynote speech. The speech was about graduation, new life, and other things, with special mentions to Jeremiah and how he had gotten Troop 10 in the history books. After this speech, the Commanding Officer walked over to Jeremiah and asked if he could come with him. Jeremiah said that he can mount him, and he did just that.

After much excitement and adrenaline rushes, the commanding officer dismounted Jeremiah, brushed off his clothes, and walked into his office with Jeremiah, the doorframe of the admin block knocking off his hat. Once Jeremiah picked up his hat and got into the C/O's office, he sprawled on the floor, and the commanding officer handed him a tablet containing images of statues.
"Why am I looking at statues, sir?" Jeremiah asked.
"These statues are rough sketches of a memorial, and it's yours, because we want to remember you as our best student since the current commissioner." The commanding officer replied, uncapping a pen.
"Oh really? I like the third one because it has the most detail."

This 'third one' was a sketch of Jeremiah in full red serge rearing up, a typical Western trope in the genre, which was supported by a pedestal which read 'JEREMIAH D. ALLIS - FIRST AND BEST CENTAUR MOUNTIE'. The attention to detail and the fact that it was to be made in marble was what interested Jeremiah the most, and the commanding officer circled number three on his sheet, and called someone about the news. Once that was over, Jeremiah and the commanding officer rode back to the drill hall to finish off the banquet.

Near 10PM, Jeremiah took part in the traditional 'Changing of the Numbers'. With a tear falling down his cheek, he took off Troop 10's number, and the next troop put up theirs. He really was going to miss Depot, and everyone he met there. A few minutes later, the final activities were finished, and the banquet was soon over. Jeremiah had a change of clothes and packed his final bags, and soon, James came back from checking out of the Best Western, and a few minutes later, a police van turned up to pick up Jeremiah and James, and under the cover of the night, the two drove back to the airport, and boarded the plane, James telling the pilot to take off early. Soon, the small plane took off, and left Regina. Homecoming was beginning.
Banned
Original Poster
#7 Old 10th Feb 2016 at 10:35 PM
COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT INCOMING
Also, the series gets darker from here on out.

Constable Centaur - C6 - The Hidden Towns - P1

Once the plane touched down at Erik Nielsen International Airport, Jeremiah got up and suffered from a leg pain. After Jeremiah did a few leg exercises, he got his luggage and got out of the plane and met with James, who was finishing up his papers at customs. Jeremiah signed his papers, and soon, the two were on their way.
"So how's the house coming along? How far is it?" Jeremiah asked while he walked to the Ram.
"Well we're pretty much finished, so once you get in, you can get unpacking. A little spoiler for you - you still get to sleep on the floor in the front room." James replied.
"Oh thank goodness, I've grown accustomed to sleeping in dorms, and I prefer stables and other odd places over a proper bedroom. Have you seen the services available in a bedroom?"
"Well, yeah, mine has a study."
"But does yours have a couch, TV, and kitchen within easy reach?"
"No."
"Point proven!"

Jeremiah was loaded into the Ram's horsebox once James and him got outside, and once Jeremiah activated the Bluetooth phone in the horsebox, Jeremiah turned on his radio, and listened in to a radio news channel.
"Yesterday, CBC News aired footage of a Jeremiah Allis' graduation performance, and as of now, it has become slightly viral. Jeremiah Allis, in case you didn't know, is the world's first actual Centaur, according to the government, and in the past 24 weeks, he has worked hard to graduate as a constable of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police." The news anchor said.
"We are erecting a statue in his honour, which will be displayed at the main entrance of the academy, and if we do find another one willing to join the RCMP, I'm glad to say that the government has greenlit the proposition, but as of now, Jeremiah is the only centaur to come out of the world and survive. That is, unless there is a colony hiding somewhere." The commanding officer said.
"In a few days, residents of Whitehorse will be hopefully seeing Jeremiah on the streets, who speaking of, had a new house built for him and his personal assistant by the government."

Once James pulled to a stop outside the house, which was actually within Whitehorse, specifically down Black Street and 8th Avenue, Jeremiah was unloaded, and grabbed his bags from the back of the Ram. Once Jeremiah saw the house, he said how small it looked from the outside, but James said that it was just how he saw the house. In fact, lots of work had been done. The roof had been torn off entirely and lifted a few inches, and the doors and other utilities were modified so Jeremiah could use them with ease. Jeremiah's 'bedroom' was just somewhere he could sit on his own really - there wasn't a bed space for him, and he preferred to sleep on the floor, as Jeremiah noted.

There was a small concrete ramp leading up into the house. This was also accompanied by a door which had been lifted a few inches, just like the roof. It was also slightly wider, because the builders knew that Jeremiah had a large body. Once Jeremiah and James entered the house, Jeremiah saw that the builders had their work cut out for them. The abandoned house that used to be here had been completely torn down from the inside and rebuilt anew, with wider corridors, adjustable objects and more. Better still, Jeremiah's favourite sleeping spot was preserved and marked out with a rug on the floor.

James' bedroom/workroom was full of bookshelves for files to go in - since James had 100+ files spanning from the late 1990s, this was definitely required. His bed was a bunk bed with a desk where the bottom desk would go, and the desk contained many sheets of blank paper, a printer, telephone, and most importantly, a computer, but specifically, one with three monitors.
"Someone is going to be rich if they rob this place." Jeremiah said, still in awe.
"Don't jinx it, Jeremiah, we just moved in here." James complained.
"Oh sorry."

Once they were done, they walked out of James' bedroom, Jeremiah still ducking down for... nothing, and moved on to Jeremiah's 'bedroom', if it can even be classed as one. There was no bed, but they called it a 'bedroom'. A wardrobe with a sliding mirror door had around two boxes of clothes in front of it, which contained all of Jeremiah clothes, even if he didn't take them to academy. A few photos were hung up on the wall of him, and he found a few photos of his troop, and he stared at his troop photo for a while, then contemplated his room. A TV on the wall, and a door which goes directly to the bathroom, which speaking of, was almost exactly the same, which meant that Jeremiah still had to go poop on the yard.

After a quick tour of the house, Jeremiah got on the floor in his bedroom, and started watching his TV. The day passed on, with Jeremiah hanging up his clothes and James arranging his files in binders and putting it in his shelves. The TV show who built the house said that they would turn up in the next few days to record Jeremiah's opinion on the house because Jeremiah had only just returned, and the house was not 'fully stocked'.

In the afternoon, the Whitehorse RCMP Detachment Commander called Jeremiah and said to come over to the detachment, and he also said to bring his full red serge. Jeremiah said that he had to go to the RCMP detachment to James, and that he probably won't be back for a while. He put his red serge on, made sure to tie the 'boots' securely, and then soon left the house, and galloped off to the RCMP detachment, kicking up dirt in his wake.

Once he got to the detachment, he saw an RCMP SUV with the words 'COMMISSIONER' on the side. With silent excitement and nervousness, Jeremiah walked into the detachment, signed in, and walked to the commander's office. The commander was just walking out of his office when he saw Jeremiah.
"Jeremiah, we still can't believe you're a constable now." The commander said to Jeremiah.
"So why am I here?" Jeremiah asked, straightening his epaulettes.
"I'm guessing you haven't met the commissioner?"
"Well I saw him on patrol in 1993 or something."
"I'm guessing it's time for a reintroduction."

Jeremiah ducked down, and walked through the door of the office, and there he was. Commissioner Benton Fraser himself. Since he served in Chicago, when he came back, he had risen up the ranks of the RCMP, and by late 2013, was the Deputy Commissioner. Now that the previous commissioner had stepped down over tense relations between the RCMP and AST (provoked by him), Fraser was in the highest position of power within the RCMP, had connections with the Prime Minister, and was working to improve relations with the United States police forces, starting with the Alaskans.
"Commissioner Benton Fraser, thank you kindly for coming." Fraser said to Jeremiah, shaking his hand.
"It seems like only yesterday that I saw you on patrol, sir. 53 years really puts strain on you, doesn't it?" Jeremiah replied. He took off his hat, and laid it on the table.
"Yes it does, definitely. When I came back to Canada at the turn of the century, it all started going downhill. First, I lost my dog."
"I heard. I'm still sorry for your loss."
"I still miss Diefenbaker sometimes. He fell into the ice, and I couldn't get him out."
"So are you depressed?"
"Very. So I was alone for a while, and around about 2002, I hear that my first partner in Chicago, Ray Vecchio, had died of a gunshot wound. I think it was a drug raid, and a dealer shot him in the heart."
"Just like a hunter would."
"Yeah, just like that. So Ray Kowalski gets locked up in jail for life over corruption charges, and to further make it worse, I risked committing suicide."
"Really?"
"I was not doing well. Circa 2003, I get promoted from Corporal, which I got promoted to as soon as I came back, to Sergeant, and all the other ranks soon after, then around 2010, I get promoted to Chief Superintendent. 2011, Assistant Commissioner, and you know how it ended."
"You've got to Commissioner."
"Exactly. Now to the whole point of this meeting."

Fraser dug out a briefcase, and took out some sheets of paper with pictures of people on them.
"Jeremiah, do you know any of these men?" Fraser asked.
Jeremiah took a good look at the men, and then said, "No sir, I do not."
"Well Jeremiah, the reason you are here is to tell you about a situation you are most likely involved in on a bad side of the story. These people are the top brass of a mafia group formed out of most of the major mafia families in Canada, called The Coalition. They are expanding their operations north-west, and it is likely that they will be looking for you for reasons unknown."
"Ah hold on, I remember the man with the shaved head. I heard he was arrested at thirteen over running a protection racket in the school here."
"Well Mohammed Sarem, or 'The Racketeer' by his street name, is the head of the protection racket subdivision of The Coalition, and he is on our most wanted list as we speak."
"So why are they looking for me?"
"For now, we do not know, but they would most likely try to take you down if you prove yourself to be one of our best officers."
"Oh that's not good."
"Which means that you'll probably be protected by other officers while on patrol."
"That's exactly what I thought would happen."
"Right, I will call someone to set up a protection division. And I have one last thing."
"What is it, sir?"
"I've allowed you to wear your red serge on duty. We have studied you in academy, and noticed that you struggled quite much in regular police uniform, but in red serge, you show little to no difficulty."
"Wow, thanks sir."
"Now if it gets damaged, I can pay for it, because I have way too much money in my opinion, so I want to spend it all for others."
"You're Labour Party, aren't you?"
"I'm actually undecided as of now. I guess it's time to go."
"Do you still live in the Yukon?"
"Why yes I do on non-work days. I'm actually living in a mansion twenty kilometres outside of Whitehorse, and if I ever need help in some fashion, I'll call you, here's my card."

Jeremiah looked at Fraser's calling card, and slipped it into his pocket, then he picked up his hat and left. He called James to say he's seen Fraser, and that he was going to see where his house was, and James told him to be careful, and hung up on him, just before Jeremiah was to say something. He then set off on a journey to the Fraser house, using his phone map to guide him. After half an hour of galloping though, he had gotten nowhere. But as it turned out, he was a few kilometres short.

Once Jeremiah had reached the Fraser house, he could see that it was lavish-looking, even from the outside. There was dark-coloured bricks which made up the structure, windows which sometimes stretched up to two floors, and a nice looking driveway, where a green 1971 Buick Riviera was parked. This was Vecchio's former car before he got shot, and it was loaned to Fraser upon his death.

Jeremiah noted down the house in his notepad, then started galloping off back home. He was only a kilometre away from Fraser's mansion, when he saw a light in the forest, like a streetlamp light. There was no light in the forest except for the lone car light, so Jeremiah went off the dirt path to investigate, only just missing being spotted by Fraser, who was driving home in his SUV. Suddenly, he remembered this same dirt road. He was found here by James' parents. Now that Fraser had moved into his mansion, whoever dumped him in the snow would surely be found by Fraser, who would probably be on some kind of hunting trip, so to beat him to it, Jeremiah went further and further into the forest.

The light began to get closer, then another lit up. And another.
"Gas lamps." Jeremiah said to himself. "But why in the middle of a Yukon woodland?"
The gas lamps were lit up even more, then they just stopped. A door slammed somewhere, and it all fell silent once more. It was early evening, and the forest was getting darker.

The forest then suddenly stopped. The trees disappeared, and Jeremiah found himself on a plains field, a long way away from where he started. A kilometre away, a normal-looking Canadian town was lit up by the gas lamps, and Jeremiah declared that this town was unconnected by road, and that it was off the grid. But it wasn't. Once Jeremiah got closer, he saw a dirt path leading into the forest from the town, where a bunch of trees had been cut away to form a path, and a set of cables leading from the ground. There also was a crudely-painted sign saying 'CABLES UNDER HERE', and piles of dirt where the cables were dug.

Jeremiah continued along the dirt path towards the town, and noticed something familiar. Was this the place he was born in? He thought not, because it was not on any map, not recognized by the government, and he didn't even know if anyone lived here. Nevertheless, he straightened his Stetson, and galloped towards the town, almost missing a signpost saying "Welcome to the Quaint Town of Alderney", with the rest of the sign covered by bushes he couldn't pull away. He continued on, and stopped when he got to the first building on the trail.

On a cable-strewn pylon, there was a sign stuck on the wooden post. A missing poster, and he took a look at the person on the poster, and noticed that it was himself. In awe, Jeremiah looked around, but there was nothing he could familiarize with. Out of nowhere, however, a shot was fired from a rifle, and nearly hit Jeremiah, who ran for cover immediately.
"Hey what's the deal over here? Can't you see I'm looking for someone?" Jeremiah yelled. There was no response, and the rifle was fired again.
Someone then yelled "Get out, human, this is not a safe place!"
"Hey whoever you are, please stop firing, I'm not a human, I am a Centaur of the RCMP!" Jeremiah yelled back.
"Wait, what?!"

The sound of stairs creaking was the only sound for a while, then what sounded like a horse carrying a toolkit galloping towards Jeremiah. A silhouette of another of Jeremiah's kind rushed down the street, and once Jeremiah's eyes adjusted to the light, he could see a male centaur in a white long sleeved and buttoned shirt rushing towards him with a loaded rifle, bayonet attached. The centaur then stopped, and stared, squinting into the darkness. Yes, there was a centaur wearing red serge.
"I thought that our kind never stray into human territory over fear. Do you have any identity on you?" The centaur asked.
"Well I have my badge number and RCMP ID." Jeremiah replied.
"What is the RCMP?"
"I'll tell you when I get the chance."

Jeremiah handed over his ID, and instantly, the centaur was shocked beyond belief. He had just recognized the name. Jeremiah Allis.
"Jeremiah?" The centaur asked in shock.
"Yes, that's me alright." Jeremiah replied.
"You have been missing for over 30 years, boy, why did you not come back?"
"I was rescued by a family of humans, who managed to care for me throughout my entire life."
"So you have lived in human territory?"
"For these past thirty-something years, I have."
"We have been looking for you since you went missing, are you sure you need any help in some fashion?"
"Where are my parents?"
"I'm sorry Jeremiah, it is a little late to bring you over to them. But I can show you the town."

There was a slight sense of activity in the air. Noises came from houses, and shutters were opened. Jeremiah even overheard talking from some houses, and pretty soon, doors began to open. People peered out of their houses, and called their neighbours via very outdated phones, and told each other about who was outside.
"...You see, every single person in this whole stretch of land away from human civilization is a centaur." The centaur said, who was still carrying his rifle.
"Really?" Jeremiah asked.
"Look behind you and see for yourself."

Behind him, Jeremiah saw around seven residents of Alderney on the streets, all centaurs. This was a bit of a surprise to him, but it didn't really back up his point, until he saw a sign saying 'ANY HUMAN BEYOND THIS POINT WILL BE ARRESTED FOR TRESSPASSING', and it confirmed his beliefs.
"So humans are banned?" Jeremiah asked.
"Until this crisis is over, yes. Before the 'incident', humans were allowed, but we did not get many visitors, and they usually got shot by panicky officers from the constabulary. As of now, for some reason, all humans who enter the town from that sign will be arrested until further notice." The centaur, who revealed he was on unofficial night watch, said.
"Anyway, since I pretty much woke everyone up, can you show me to my parents' house?"
"Oh yes, I did, did I not? Well, I shall show you."

A few minutes later, Jeremiah was led to a brick two-story house with older-looking architecture, possibly something from the late 1800s, and was left to knock on the door. The night-watcher left to return to his post, and left Jeremiah behind. After breathing in and talking to himself to calm his nerves, he curled up his fingers, and knocked on the wooden door.

The sound of something heavy coming down wooden stairs emanated from the house, then a few seconds later, a woman answered the door.
"Whatever you're doing here, could you please..." The woman began, before she noticed something. She picked up a piece of paper, compared it to Jeremiah, then said, "Jeremiah, is it really you?"
"Um, yes?" Jeremiah replied. He was then hugged by the woman, who started crying tears of joy, and soon attracted his husband.
"Oh my God, that has to be my son." The husband said.
"Wait a minute, are you my parents?" Jeremiah asked once he broke free of the sudden hug.
"Yes, son, we are your parents. I'm so sorry for abandoning you like that." Jeremiah's mother replied.
"What is that you are wearing though?" Jeremiah's father asked.
"I can explain in a minute if you at least let me in."

Jeremiah's parents moved themselves out of the way to let Jeremiah in the house. He hung his hat on the hook, and sprawled himself on the living room floor. Jeremiah's parents soon came in to the living room, and stood in front of him.
"I cannot believe how you've managed to survive without me, you two." Jeremiah said to his parents. They were not very old - Jeremiah was born when his parents were nearly 17 years old.
"All I can say is that by the looks of what you are wearing, you've joined some kind of human constabulary." Jeremiah's mother replied.
"When I was found, I barely could remember my own first name, and was freezing to death. So I know barely anything about this whole part of the north you've all lived in."
"Well I will start, I'm Thomas Allis, I'm your dad, in case you didn't know, and I'm serving in the army over here." Thomas said.
"The Canadian Forces?"
"No, not that army. They are called the Centaur Territorial Army. We are up against a large group of centaurs from the east who are expanding out and using force. Behind the human's range, we have been fighting a war."
"Oh no, that's not a good sign."
"It is clearly is not, Jeremiah. I have been shot at least once, and I nearly had to be executed over a leg injury."
"So why aren't you fighting?"
"I am on leave. Anyway, I must go now, I have a package awaiting my signature."

Thomas soon trotted upstairs, which left him with his mother. Jeremiah took off his tunic and hung it on the door handle before sitting down once again.
"Jeremiah, I am your mom, Carolina, and I am going to ensure you have a good stay until the day after tomorrow." Carolina said to Jeremiah.
"Mom, why did you abandon me in the snow?" Jeremiah asked.
"Well to put it simply, I panicked."

Back in the 1988, when Jeremiah had barely learned to speak, Carolina was taking him for a walk through the forest to explore 'the wonders of nature' as she put it, and was getting closer and closer to the mansion where Fraser currently resides. In the very deep snow, Carolina was making sure he could see her son, who seemed very excited about walking through the snow. The snow was falling, and it was a very cold dusk on the outskirts of 'reality'. Through the deep snow they walked, on and on until they managed to leave the forest and get onto the dirt path, which at the time, was covered in ploughed snow.

Carolina then spotted car headlights on the road. James' parents' pickup was driving down the path, and Carolina didn't want to be spotted. Unfortunately, Jeremiah had fallen into the snow, and was rapidly getting colder and colder. Carolina tried to pull him out, but the car was getting to close for her. There was no other choice. Jeremiah had to be abandoned in the snow. And that's how it all began.

"It was the wisest of options, Jeremiah." Carolina said.
"Well I'm glad you took it, because I'm one with the humans." Jeremiah replied.
"That is nice to hear, Jeremiah. Come along now, it is time to go to bed."
"But mom, I'm 31!"
"Oh, I forgot about your age. You can go to bed at anytime you want."

The next morning, Thomas found Jeremiah sleeping on the floor. Worse for the both of them, it was two in the morning, and there was something bad coming on the horizon.
"Son, why are you sleeping on the floor?" Thomas asked.
"Back in where I live, I sleep in the living room, and I do so on the floor. In fact, why are you awake so early?" Jeremiah asked, his voice slurred from suddenly waking up.
"I am being deployed to east of here. These troops, called Soldiers of Pegasus, want to take over North America, and populate it with many centaurs and even more horses than before."
"Basically, they want the humans out?"
"That is what they say. They will enslave some probably, and kill off the rest. Pretty much the Wehrmact of World War 2. Right now, I need to put on my uniform."

Thomas walked into a cupboard under the stairs, and closed the door. After a few trips and falls in there, and a floorboard snapping, Thomas was out in full uniform, carrying his rifle. The uniform seemed more steampunk than a modern-day military uniform, with a sage-coloured undershirt partially covered by a dark green formal vest with pockets on the breast, with a brown leather belt strapped around the waist. Another leather belt below his clothes suspended two large saddle bags which held ammunition, side-arms, and more. These had straps on them, also technically belts, and to some, these saddle bags were considered body armour. To finish off, two arm belt things (can't say what they are), and leather gloves, and of course, a rifle with bayonet. (Acknowledgments for basis of design will be in description)
"Well that's a little primitive." Jeremiah said, as he slowly got used to the candlelit room.
"Son, if we like this type of clothing, punk-steam or whatever it is called, I think we would use it for a lot of activities." Thomas replied, while securing the bayonet onto his rifle tightly.
"Where can you get those types of clothes? Not the military clothes, but this whole formal-looking thing."
"Now I would point you towards the tailor in Alderney Town Centre, but it is closed, it is not the best, and I think you would prefer the human stores, really."
"What about this whole horseshoe issue? Who can I consult about the wear?"
"Go see a farrier wherever you live. The only one we have has joined up, and cannot provide his services."

Soon, Thomas began packing his things into his saddlebags. A small ammunition box containing .375 Winchester cartridges, adapted for the rifle the CTA use, was loaded into the right saddlebag, and in the left, medical supplies and provisions like food and drink. Other miscellany, including a pair of binoculars and a map were loaded into the right bag, and soon, both saddlebags were shut and 'locked', and Thomas was ready to set off on another defence mission.
"Jeremiah, I do not know if I shall survive, but in case I do not, it was nice knowing you." Thomas said, before he had a quick hug from Jeremiah, and once he said goodbye to Carolina, he left to join the CTA on the eastern front.

Constable Centaur - C6 - The Hidden Towns - P2

A few hours later, Carolina came down the stairs crying. Jeremiah walked over to her to try and comfort her.
"Mom, I know it's hard to say goodbye to him like that. There was some things he told me about, and he said that he may not... no, that's a poor choice of words. Look, I saw him leave, he got dressed and told me about the war." Jeremiah said.
"Jeremiah... this war has been going on since the late 1700s... he is going to die." Carolina said, between breaks of crying.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. I kind of feel sad myself now."

Jeremiah decided to leave early, because James would be worried, and it was becoming too depressing. He put on his tunic and hat, and took off once he said goodbye. He noted the location of Alderney on his paper map, then once he did that, he galloped off into the sunrise back on the trail to Whitehorse. A police car noticed Jeremiah coming back, and the driver radioed dispatch to say that he was back, and that the government could rest easy.

Once Jeremiah got into Whitehorse, he came walked into the RCMP detachment, and said that he'd start work tomorrow. The front desk officer wasn't so pleased, but he went with it, and let Jeremiah take his last day off. He called James to say he was safe, and just made an accidental detour in the woods. James yelled something into the phone, but the signal suddenly went dead, and the phone hung up. Jeremiah then took off his hat, unbuttoned his tunic, and galloped back to his house. There, James was waiting, and seemed pretty distressed.
"Why do you leave like that without telling me?!" James yelled.
"Hey, I made a quick detour into the woods, and found something, I'm sorry, there was no phone signal." Jeremiah replied.
"Wherever you went, why don't you tell me where you're going BEFORE you make a detour!"
"Problem is, that place didn't have a signal either. I don't want to get into a domestic dispute James."
"This IS a domestic dispute!"
"I can get you arrested for this, James."
"Okay, I'll shut up!"

After Jeremiah sprawled on the floor to watch the TV and James began typing on his laptop, and awkward silence filled the room. A minute or so later after everyone had calmed down, Jeremiah asked a question.
"James, do you know any good farriers around here?" Jeremiah asked.
"What?" James asked, not understanding.
"The men and women who put horseshoes on horses."
"Oh, those guys, just let me look on Bing, and..."
"You run on Bing?!"
"Yeah, it's terrible."

James looked on Bing Maps, and got nothing, so he switched to Google Maps, and found one, which was around the back of the Pet Junction just on the border of Whitehorse. Since the trip was only five minutes via gallop gait and since the store would most likely be open, he decided to go there right then, and once Jeremiah changed his clothes to something more casual - a grey t-shirt - and left.

"Sir, you're half horse, we don't have a farrier, and you're scaring the pets." The clerk on the cash register said, because he noticed that the cats and dogs were backing away.
"Well when is he back?" Jeremiah asked, as his tail made a dog skitter backwards.
"He had a burn, and was sent to hospital, so go see someone else."
"Okay, thanks."

"James, I've been rejected again." Jeremiah said over the phone once he got out.
"Alright, there is a few dotted around, just don't gallop for too long, okay? I don't want you dying of exhaustion." James replied. Nearly 15 minutes out of Whitehorse, there was a stable where a certified farrier was not expecting any appointments. Jeremiah called the farrier to book one, and without saying what he was, the phone was hung up, and Jeremiah went southbound to get some horseshoes. Which unsurprisingly, was not going to end well.

Once he got there, Jeremiah knocked on the door of the farrier, and waited for his answer. The door of the stable house opened, and the farrier had a bit of a shock when he saw Jeremiah at the door.
"And you're here for...?" The farrier asked.
"Horseshoes." Jeremiah replied.
"Listen, it might a painful process for ya, are you sure you want some?"
"Take a look at the hoof wear down there."

The farrier took a look down at Jeremiah's hooves, and noticed how bad they were. He offered a discount of -$20, which equated to $80.
"Alright, because of the wear you've had in the past few years, I'm taking twenty dollars off the price, which would leave you with eighty." The farrier said. Jeremiah handed over $100 Canadian Dollars, and got $20 change. The farrier pointed Jeremiah towards a covered area with a lot of tools on the wall, and Jeremiah took position there, his hands slightly shaking with nervousness.

Apron on, the farrier did a few measurements, and checked out each of Jeremiah's hooves. If the wear got worse, Jeremiah would be susceptible to laming, which meant that he needed those horseshoes, and now.
"Okay, whatshisname who cares for you says that you can tell me to stop if you can't take it anymore." The farrier said.
"Is there any other alternative?" Jeremiah asked.
"Not that I know of right now. You can have some..."
"No, I don't like the look of those. Plus, I've worn them already."
"Well looks like you're either going to do this or not I guess. I can glue it, but there isn't enough glue right now."
"Could we maybe try and chip the wear away?"
"No, I don't think that'd work."
"Well then there's the trimming, right?"
"Jeremiah, your hooves are severely worn. Of course they need trimming."

The process was quite painful at the start. There was a lot of hammering into Jeremiah's hoof, which made it feel very numb every beat. Something clearly was not right, although it could be just Jeremiah who receives the pain. He was certified after all, and if things were to go wrong, he'd only end up in jail anyway. Once the pain became too much to handle, Jeremiah decided to tell the farrier to stop and tell him what was going wrong.
"Isn't shoeing supposed to be painless?" Jeremiah asked as the farrier put his hammer on the floor.
"Oh God, I've done something really bad, haven't I?" The farrier said, panicking he was going to lose his job, and get a jail sentence.
"I don't know actually. Did you sleep well last night? Are the nails rusty?"
"Oh, must be the nails. Sorry, I didn't realise that."

The faulty horseshoes were soon taken off and was then disposed of. The farrier looked around for a new set of horseshoes, but he couldn't find any. Because of this, a new two pairs had to be made, and that would take time to do so. A slight trickle of blood had came from one of Jeremiah's hooves, and he was on the floor trying to clean it off and temporarily close the wound. Nearly an hour later, the horseshoes were done, and more newer nails were hammered into the hooves, this time not causing any pain. In under twenty minutes, the horseshoes were finally attached, the nails were cut, and the hooves were adjusted to form a 'clinch'. Finally, Jeremiah could rest easy. Hopefully, this could lessen the chance of lameness on the worn hooves.

After Jeremiah had a walk around to see if they were comfortable and were secure, he thanked the farrier, and was about to get back onto the highway when he saw a parked RCMP Crown Victoria on the side road. A look at the markings and the license plate showed that it came all the way from British Columbia. As he approached the cruiser, a constable got out of the car, and stood behind his door, his right arm resting on the roof.
"You've come far and wide, constable." Jeremiah said, noticing the bag of trash in the back.
"Why yes, I came all the way from Fort Nelson." The constable replied.
"That's a 12 hour drive, how did you manage to stay awake and in uniform?"
"I got leave, but I took my car with me. I took a few stops at Tim Hortons along the way for energy breaks."
"Did you even sleep?"
"For a few minutes, yes."
"So what are you here for?"
"I've come to see you."

Jeremiah thought he was being stalked. How did this BC RCMP constable follow him to the stables? After he whipped out his phone and took a photo, the constable left to return to Fort Nelson, and Jeremiah left to go back home. While he took a bridleway north of the highway, he heard a quiet but frightening explosion in the distance, which made him fall to the ground in panic. There was a shelling occurring in the distance, and as it turned out, this was the result of the Soldiers of Pegasus' attempt to move the CTA battalion back, and as it turned, the battle was now being won by the SOP, who were pushing west, dangerously close to Whitehorse. Because of the lack of support by the Canadian Army, the CTA had no firepower that could match the SOP's, and because of the roads cutting through the battlefield, humans were constantly getting involved in the battle, and most of the time, they would be either injured or killed by either side, which meant that the CTA were going to lose the war unless someone told the Prime Minister of the war.

Unfortunately, the battle was not so close yet, so it was barely noticeable. Jeremiah needed to tell someone of the war, but since it would be dismissed as a delusion, he had to wait until the war had gotten closer, which was a very dangerous option. He galloped off back to Whitehorse, and thought about signing up to the CTA if the war got dangerously close to either Alderney or Whitehorse along the way. Once he got back in Whitehorse, it was just past 1PM, which meant that he had the rest of the day to spend doing something. Since he had his red serge hung up in his house, he decided to start his first day as a fully-fledged police officer early.
"Jeremiah, how was it?" James asked once Jeremiah got in the house.
"Well it hurt a bit, which was not supposed to happen, and I had to wait quite some time for some new horseshoes to be made, then they got hammered in, and now I'm wearing horseshoes." Jeremiah replied.
"Care to show me?"

He lifted his left hind hoof, as if he was going to kick someone away, and James could see clearly the horseshoe which was secured onto the hoof, and the adjustments made to make the 'clinch'. The horseshoe was intentionally made barely visible from the front from Jeremiah's request, since he never wanted to get some in the first place. Besides, 30 years worth of wear was liable to cause moderate injuries, so it was a worthy sacrifice.
"So you never wanted these?" James asked.
"For thirty years now, I tried to avoid this, but now, I had to submit. It definitely cannot be seen, right?" Jeremiah replied.
"Yeah, I can't see it. The horses do have them in mounted police forces across the world most likely."
"Ah, so it isn't embarrassing. James, I may have found my parents."
"Really?! Tell me, I've always wanted to know."
"Well my mom is probably not going to have you come into the house, and my dad is serving in an army."
"So where is it?"
"I don't think I'm allowed to tell you."
"Tell me, are they centaurs too?"
"Well, don't go around saying this, but yes."
"Why is your dad in the army?"

Jeremiah got down to James' level, and his voice dropped to a serious level.
"James, there has been a war between two groups of centaurs since the late 1700s, and they are still fighting today very close to here. My dad is serving in the army trying to defend the humans from the other army, who are trying to take over all of North America for their benefit, and they want to enslave and kill as many humans as possible. The army my dad is in is called the Centaur Territorial Army, and they are the ones fighting against the other army, called the Soldiers of Pegasus, and the CTA are trying to hold them off from Whitehouse and my parents' hometown, because their goal, as I said, is to make sure no harm to the humans are done by the SOP, but usually, any human who gets into the battlefield is going to get hurt or killed. My dad is fighting because he wanted to defend his hometown, and to let the humans back in."
"So what you are saying is that your dad is protecting our race and home from an army of evil centaurs?" James asked.
"Yes, James. If I ever sign up for the army, you should really start moving southbound."

Jeremiah stood back up, and walked to his bedroom to get changed into his red serge. He pulled out a drawer, got out his 'boots', and tied them on to all four of his legs, brushing off pieces of his hoof wall which landed on his leg during the shoeing. The laces were then tightened, and after Jeremiah changed to a long sleeved white undershirt, he put on his scarlet tunic, foregoing the string tie (he deemed it unnecessary and stupid), and put the buttons in place. He put his phone in a breast pocket, put on his Stetson, and then finally left. He galloped over to the RCMP detachment, and signed on to duty for the first time.
"You've got a locker reserved for you, the equipment you can wear is in there. Just a quick note from the commander, the utility belt should be worn BETWEEN where your human half ends and your horse half begins." The front desk officer told Jeremiah.
"Okay, sir, thanks for the tip." Jeremiah replied. The front desk officer then picked up the phone as Jeremiah walked into the locker room, and dialled the number of the lieutenant to say that Jeremiah was going on duty.

"Guys, I think a horse just walked into the station." A constable getting changed said as Jeremiah's hooves were heard through the opened door of the changing room.
"Wait, did Jeremiah get posted here?!" A corporal asked, startled.
"Yeah, didn't you read the Post yesterday?"
"No, I didn't have any power yesterday."
"Oh, there was a blackout in your town."

The entire room fell silent as Jeremiah entered, and as he opened the door of his locker, he thought about what would be in it, and what he had was a S&W 5946 pistol to go in his sidearm holder, two extra clips for the gun, and a utility belt containing a lot of things like a citation booklet, an ASP baton, a badge holder and more. Jeremiah put it on where his human skin ended at his torso and his horse coating began, and slipped the badge in the badge holder. Once everything was in its place, he asked for an assignment, since he missed the briefing, and he was told to watch out for any speeders on Klondike/Alaska Highway.

He was handed over a speed gun, which he put in one of his pockets, and was then sent on his way. Jeremiah said he could find his own way there, and he did just that, and in a few minutes, he was setting up a speed trap on the hard shoulder of the highway. Unfortunately for him, traffic slowed to a crawl as bottleneckers looked out of their cars at Jeremiah, which meant that there was no chance of any speeding. Once traffic managed to clear up though, the speed improved for every passing car, but they still slowed down to look.

Jeremiah finally clocked a Dodge Grand Caravan going 55km/h, and got to work pulling it over. He chased the minivan, and used hand signals to pull it over. The driver had to think for a moment before pulling over, because he thought what he was seeing wasn't real. Once he was sure that he was getting pulled over by an actual police officer, he pulled to the side as Jeremiah followed the back of the minivan. The engine was turned off, and the window was rolled down as Jeremiah made the slow walk to the stopped car. He put his right arm on the roof of the vehicle, knelt down slightly, and began to talk to the stopped driver.
"So how are you doing today?" Jeremiah asked the driver.
"Well I'm confused and partially terrified somewhere." The driver replied.
"Sir, there's no need to be scared, I'm pulling you over today for going 55kp/h in a 50kp/h zone, which is a danger to others."
"So you are actually pulling me over? Okay, well I never intended to go over 50, my foot slipped."

The driver was obviously lying, and Jeremiah made a remark about this.
"I could see by your choice of words that you are lying." Jeremiah said.
"Fine, I was speeding to get off the highway quicker, can I go now?" The driver replied.
"Not before I check your name. Can I have your ID please?"
"Oh for crying out loud, here you go."

Jeremiah was handed a card showing the driver's ID, which was his driver's license. A Drew Daniels was driving the vehicle, and unbeknownst to Jeremiah, he had connections to crime.
"Control, can I have some information about a Drew Daniels, born on 5/21/1979?" Jeremiah asked the operator of the police radio using his portable radio.
"Roger, we'll look him up." The operator replied. After a few seconds, the operator read out, "Drew Daniels, Born on the 21st of May 1979. He has been stopped five times, citations given in all, and he has a warrant for arrest."

A few seconds later, Jeremiah said, "Allis to Control."
"Control to Allis, what do you require?" The radio operator replied.
"I'm going to require a unit on Alaska/Klondike Highway for a 10-31, my suspect is currently engaged in a traffic stop, and has an active warrant, and will require transport to the station."
"10-4, Allis, we are sending out a unit Code 1 to your location."
"Received."

The driver was approached by Jeremiah after he put his radio back, and knew something had happened.
"Sir, I've discovered you have an active arrest warrant on you, so could you please step out of the car and put your hands on the roof." Jeremiah ordered. The driver complied quickly, and put his hands on the roof. He was searched, and was found out to be carrying a weapon on him. The weapon was confiscated, and the man was handcuffed. Once the backup unit arrived to transport the driver to the station and the minivan was searched, a towing vehicle voluntarily pulled over to take the vehicle, and soon, the traffic stop scene was cleared.

For the rest of the day, Jeremiah made traffic stops on traffic violators, suspicious looking vehicles, and even a stolen antique car, which ended in the owner of the antique driving down in a rental to pick it back up. By nightfall, Jeremiah had made 25 traffic stops, and out of all of them, five arrests were made in them. His shift ended at 8PM, and once Jeremiah got back to the station, applause rang up from the whole detachment to congratulate him over a very successful first day on the force. He took off his utility belt, removed his gun from his holster, but kept on his red serge, and then signed off, not before the sergeant wanted to see him.
"Jeremiah, I just remembered that you have moved into a new house, which is why I need to give you a late housewarming gift." The commander said. Jeremiah was handed over a rectangle gift wrapped in wrapping paper, which had the same weight as a large book.
"Can I open it now?" Jeremiah asked.
"Well since there aren't many thieves around these days and since there is a bag that holds it, do so, I'm willing."

The gift was ripped open, and it revealed itself to be a laptop. Specifically, a Lenovo which ran Windows 8.1, and was awaiting setup.
"I used a lot of money to get one of these for you. If your carer has one, it wouldn't hurt for you to have one, won't it?" The commander asked.
"This is the first time I've actually had a laptop for myself sir, thank you so much." Jeremiah replied, while he looked at the underside. He was then given a laptop case holding the essentials - laptop charger, mouse and mouse mat, and Windows 8.1 setup manual.
"Now don't go throwing that out of the window, that was quite a lot of money out of my pay. If you have any problems with it, call Windows, because I don't know either."

Jeremiah came home holding the computer in the bag, and once he told James about his day, he immediately plugged in his new laptop, and immediately started setting up his laptop. He changed date, language and time settings to local settings, typed in his username and password, and activated a few settings. Once that was done, he configured his laptop settings to his desires, adding Microsoft Word with a pack included in the box, and signed up to RCMP related official sites. While James was asleep, Jeremiah was still setting up his laptop, and once he had finally finished, he fell asleep instantly, his laptop still on.

That morning, he woke up with a knock at the door. A old black Mercedes Benz limo escorted by two black 1980 Cadillac Coupe DeVille sedans was outside the window. James hid himself under the table when he realised who it was. The mafia, or specifically, The Coalition. Jeremiah opened the door, putting a gun on a table just in case, but they meant no harm. They just were offering peace.
"Mr Allis, we're here to discuss a peace offering for an action that provoked tension yesterday." An old-aged man with a slightly Italian accent told Jeremiah.
"What is it that I have done now?" Jeremiah asked.
"You pulled over a man called Drew Daniels and arrested him, didn't you?"
"Yes I did."
"Well the man is a high-ranking member of The Coalition, and we want him out, or you're going down." The old aged man opened a briefcase containing half a million Canadian Dollars, enough to pay off debts and buy new technology for help around the house. "Take the money and release Drew on bail, and we'll leave you alone."
"I'm sorry sir, I'm a peace officer, and I'm not allowed to accept gifts from civilians, and also, I would never deal with the mob."
The briefcase was closed, and the old man warned, "La morte è all'orizzonte."

The old man got back in his limo, and the convoy took off. James got out from under the table, and said, "Jeremiah, I think the mafia has put a hit out on you."
Jeremiah was understandably speechless. He had to evade the mafia now, and if they managed to take him down, James would commit suicide, Fraser would probably feel defeated and commit suicide himself, and his parents would probably go into hiding. All he knew was he needed to get Drew out, and quickly.
Banned
Original Poster
#8 Old 10th Feb 2016 at 10:37 PM
Default Constable Centaur - C7 - Back Once More - P1
An urgent phone call was made from Jeremiah's phone.
"Hello, who is this?" The RCMP phone operator asked.
"It's Jeremiah Allis, The Coalition may have put a hit out on me." Jeremiah replied nervously.
"Oh sh*t, that's not good. Can you tell me how you discovered this?"
"Well I rejected a deal from one of the brass of The Coalition to get half a million dollars and release Drew Daniels, one of The Coalition's highest members, and the old man who proposed the deal said something in Italian which sounded like a death threat."
"Can you describe to me what was said?"
"I think he said 'La mortre è all'orizzonte' to me."
"That means 'Death is upon the horizon', so the mafia are definitely after you."
"What the hell are you going to do then?!"
"Okay, okay, we'll send out a security detail to you so you can be guarded."
"How long do I have to wait until they arrive?"
"In terms of training, equipment and other things? A day."
"Great, I'm going to die now!"
"Relax, just try and stay indoors."
"What are you going to do about Drew Daniels?"
"We'll have to release him, see what happens."
"That better work."

A letter was put in a mailbox a few minutes later. With his gun out, he slowly walked to the mailbox, and opened it slowly, but there was nothing dangerous in it, just a letter addressed to him. It was from his father, who in some way got Jeremiah's address, and managed to mail the letter amidst the fighting. Once he got inside, Jeremiah shut the blinds, lit a few candles, and started reading the letter.
'My dearest Jeremiah,
The war is not looking good for us. We've lost quite a lot of land to the Pegasus troops. How far they are from your home, I don't know, but they are getting dangerously close. The wall of trees which were planted before the wall won't hold up when the fires begin to rage, and the cannons get much closer. I've already been injured, shot in the fetlock, which had me back in the trenches for a few hours while the wound healed. I don't know why we haven't got any support from the Canadian Army, but nobody in Parliament Hill seems to bat an eye.

They shelled my trench a few minutes ago, and as I write, they are dragging away dead bodies to the treeline. Their weaponry is too strong, and all of our cannons are either not well maintained or are outdated. We have taken a few trenches, however, but we lose them quickly. I just don't want actual Canadian Army soldiers fighting for our side - this is our war, and we should be fighting it by ourselves. However, a tank or two would do well, because with those cannons, it could flatten trenches and the cartridges could just bounce off the armour like a ball.

You should get in contact with someone about this. One of these days, I'm going to break a leg, and have to be executed. I don't want to fight this war any longer. I want it to end.
Yours faithfully,
Thomas Allis.'

There really was a war going on now, and Jeremiah's dad had already been wounded. It won't be long before they get to Alderney, and he'd have to conscript and fight them off. Jeremiah compared it to scenes of fighting he saw of WW1 from archive footage, and how it was a re-imagination of the First World War itself. All the way over from Whitehorse, however, the sights and sounds of the war were barely noticeable, so there was no compelling evidence to tell the government about. All he had was this letter, and the faint explosions from behind the treeline.

Jeremiah wrote back, writing,
'Dear Dad,
I'm in a rut myself, because the crime family is after me. They call themselves The Coalition, as they are many crime families joined together to expand out North West, and I dread to think what would happen if they got involved. The Royal Canadian Mounted Police say that they are going to get a security detail sent out for me, but what help will that get me if it is the mafia? They'll probably be paid off!

Anyway, if the war gets too close, I'm signing up. I may send the letter you wrote me to parliament as evidence of the war, and even though it might get rejected as a load of rubbish, at least I tried. You would have always wanted to see me try, dad.

From your son,
Jeremiah.'

The letter was sent to the trench Thomas was fighting in, which was fighting off Pegasus troops at that time. Thomas had his rifle out, shooting at the soldiers' legs in an attempt to knock them down, and bayonetting anyone who came too close to their trench. While he did manage to take out some soldiers, he ran out of ammo quickly, and had to gallop back and forth to get more. There was always the risk of sniper attacks, and without helmets, a headshot was always a one-hit kill. Nobody wanted a helmet, not even the ones who sniped at the enemy.

Mud was prevalent throughout every trench. The occasional rat skittered through the trench during the fighting, but was usually trampled or shot by the CTA troops rushing throughout the trench. Thankfully, for once, Thomas' troop managed to hold off the attackers from their trench, and they lived to sleep another night. Unfortunately, in the middle of the battle, a human had been killed by stray artillery fire very close to the treeline, and this was actually heard by many residents of a small town near the treeline. ERT squads were deployed, but couldn't go further than the trees because of obstructions and traps in the woods, which managed to unfortunately keep the war secret to many.

Meanwhile, Jeremiah took it upon himself to flee to Alderney again. He told James he was going to a safehouse somewhere, and this made James more reassured about where he was going. Jeremiah packed his laptop, some clothes and necessities and a gun, and left for the treeline. He nearly passed through the town border when he saw a luxury Mercedes Benz stuck in traffic, which he knew was a Coalition vehicle by the price tag, and went off-road in an attempt to dodge it.

He jumped over the blockades and traps of the treeline, not losing anything along the way, and within quarter of an hour, he passed through the border of Alderney, and knocked on the door of Carolina's house.
"Jeremiah, you are back again." Carolina said in slight amazement.
"The mafia is after me. I'm hiding out until I get any news of an attempt to broker peace." Jeremiah replied.
"It will take more than hiding to end the war, however. I do not think your father is going to stay any longer. He just wants to go home to you."
"Could the army take bribes or pass faked illnesses?"
"The former, no, but the latter, maybe."
"Could he try chewing cordite? It gives you a high temperature, so it may keep him off."
"Oh yes, that's a good idea. Anyways, come in, make yourself at home once more."

Jeremiah walked through the door of the house, and lounged himself on the floor, his horseshoes in full view. They gleamed in the light of the sun, the dirt slightly dulling the effect however.
"I see you got some horseshoes fitted Jeremiah. Good on you." Carolina said to Jeremiah.
"Thank you, I had them fitted because I had some severe wear on my hooves, and if I'm working in the police, I need this wear to stop." Jeremiah replied, rolling up the sleeves of his t-shirt.
"You should really get some nice clothes son, I don't like you galloping around in a t-shirt."
"But I don't think I have the money to buy some, mom, why can't I take this into consideration when dad gets back?"
"Well I don't know if he's coming back, and if he doesn't, you might as well get yourself dressed up."

Someone knocked on the door. A tail swished from side to side, so it wasn't a member of The Coalition. Carolina answered the door, and it was someone in formal military wear. She expected the worst, when in fact, it was the best.
"Mrs Allis, your husband is being sent back home for a week to let his fetlock heal over. His lameness has become quite bad, and he is dangerously close to breaking his leg." The high-ranking CTA soldier told Carolina.
A tear of joy ran down her cheek. She hugged the high-ranked soldier, and thanked him many times. While he was happy, Jeremiah was worried that he might not even survive the journey back. A number of obstructions could make him fall over and break his leg, and since he was reduced to canter pace, he might not even outrun the bullets. It was doublethink - he was happy to see his dad come home, but he knew something bad was going to befall him on the way.

Worryingly for Alderney, the trenches were very close to the town, which meant that Thomas had a few hours to spend heading east to Alderney. Jeremiah counted his money, and realised he didn't have enough for a suit from the tailor. He came back from the tailor feeling slightly defeated, and once he got back, he got out his new laptop and started typing up paperwork on it.
"What is that contraption you are typing on?" Carolina asked.
"They call it a computer back where I'm from. It's like a typewriter if you ever heard of those, but... ah I'll explain later." Jeremiah replied.

To pass the time, Jeremiah used his WiFi dongle to set up a Twitter account, and a hundred miles away, Thomas was cantering through the war-unaffected parts of Yukon. The lameness of his hind leg was causing him to tilt slightly, and he also had a slight limp, which made him have a 50% chance of falling over, and a 25% of breaking his leg. Carrying what he had with him when he was dismissed, any sudden movement from anything made him point his rifle nervously in the direction where the sound was coming from.

The journey took it's toll on him. His water canteen was half-spent when he had reached one hour of the journey back to Alderney, and he had about two hours or so to go. His lameness was getting worse, and the leg that had been shot had more pressure put on it. Over time, Thomas felt a searing pain in the fetlock, and he eventually collapsed to the ground to get some rest. In the distance, he could hear cannon and rifle fire, screams and shouts of boys who were too young to fight, and the birds, surprisingly. A bird landed on Thomas' lower half, and started chirping away as Thomas tried to hydrate himself.

Meanwhile, there were frantic reports of an actual victory in the trenches. Cheers went up in the streets of Alderney, but nobody knew if the victory was pyrrhic. Death was close to outnumbering the living, and out of the population of the Unofficial Province of Centauria, 1/8th of those who signed up to fight the Pegasus have died. Their bodies strewn the scarred landscape, some very clearly dismembered. Letters from the trenches came back and forth between loved ones, but Jeremiah wouldn't get a response from Thomas. He was at least trying to come home.

At nearly 4PM, Jeremiah caught a small glimpse of Thomas. He dismissed it, saying he was seeing things, but as he got closer, he could tell he had been sent back - he was laming. He slammed down his laptop, and nearly broke down the door galloping to meet Thomas halfway. Carolina started galloping out too, her clothes flapping in the wind. The two hugged Thomas, who they could tell was very clearly injured, and needed some rest.
"What happened? Why have you been sent back?" Jeremiah asked once they got inside.
"I have been shot in the left hind fetlock, in case you didn't see my letter, or you didn't notice how lame I am." Thomas replied, getting on the floor to see how bad the injuries were.
"You need some bandages?"
"Yes, I could do with some. They ran out in the trenches, too many injured soldiers."

Carolina opened a box containing medical supplies, and got out a pair of scissors and a roll of bandages. She got on the floor, and began to roll the bandages, but stopped when she noticed a rifle cartridge stuck in his injured fetlock.
"Tommy?" Carolina asked.
"Yes, Carolina?" Thomas replied, his leg searing with pain once again.
"There's a bullet lodged in your fetlock. I'm going to call someone to get it out, just stay put."
Once Carolina walked off to ring a surgeon, Jeremiah said, "Yep, that's a bullet alright. It's really dug in there, so I'm just hoping someone can pull it out. If not..."
"No, Jeremiah, not in the house."

A few minutes later, a doctor carrying a doctor's bag as a saddlebag came in, and got on the floor. He laid out a cloth underneath Thomas' wound, and got out some tweezers from his bag. With much caution, he slowly pulled out the rifle cartridge, causing very little pain, but making Thomas bleed. Carolina handed over the bandages and scissors, and the doctor wrapped the bandage around the bleeding fetlock. He advised Thomas to not do anything active for the rest of the day. He rested on the floor for the rest of the day, and asked Jeremiah to take off his saddle bags for him. Once that was done, he sprawled out on the floor, and relaxed his legs.
"Jeremiah, have you ever thrown a grenade before?" Thomas asked shortly after the saddlebags were off.
"Well I have thrown tear gas canisters before in academy." Jeremiah replied.
"No, no, those of the exploding variety."
"Oh, hand grenades? No, never did."
"Well once I get back on my hooves, I can train you some things. How paramilitary is the RMCP?"
"RCMP, dad. They do have a militaristic division called the Emergency Response Team, but other than that, they are just the average police force."
"Oh, you're a constable, not a private then. If you ever want to sign up to the Centaur Territorial Army, you will need to train, and that means a few months from the RCMP. Maybe if the war gets too close, you will just have to put on a uniform, and start fighting."
"Well the mafia is after me too."
"Oh no."
"So I definitely need that training?"
"I shall try and train you myself for this week I am off for."

Constable Centaur - C7 - Back Once More - P2

While Thomas was downed, he told Jeremiah many stories about his life, the war, and his former day job - hunting down animals for meats to go in the general store. It didn't pay too much, but he got a lot of money. One of his stories went like this:
"This one time, I was in the trenches, and I saw a shell fall into my trench. It killed ten of my fellow troops, and I was showered in mud. The commanding officer of my company had been killed by the round, and since there was nobody on his level to replace him, we had to vote very quickly for someone to replace him. It was narrowed down to me and another solider. By a landslide, I won, promising improved defensive measures until help arrived, and until our new commanding officer came, I made the orders - defend the trench until the last man goes down. For two days, we held off the enemy, even when the snow nearly forced us out, but on that day, there were very few casualties on our side, and we managed to hold the trench, because of my defensive planning. If I had not won the vote, we could have all died. He wanted to attack the enemy head-first, but my fellow soldiers knew that was suicide. On the second day, a commanding officer took over, and almost instantly ordered an attack on the enemy trench. Needless to say, I should have been posted a permanent commander of that battalion - we lost a lot of men in that attack who had just risked their lives defending a crucial point. We had to retreat."
"Wow, that's inspiring. How come you weren't promoted?" Jeremiah asked.
"The goal was to take over the ruins of a town, and we managed to disobey those orders. I probably would have died in a hail of bullets if we followed that order, but before the attack took place, the trench got shelled."
"How many troops did you kill on that day?"
"I killed around 52 Pegasus troops, plus 1 Territorial Army private for desertion."
"Desertion?"
"We are not allowed to desert. We have all the humans of the Americas' lives on the line. Sounds like what the Russians would do in WW2, but that is perfectly justified, because a combined total of 953.7 million human lives are counting on us, with an estimated 6 million centaurs dotted around the northern territories, which would make this army one of the most dedicated. See why we cannot desert?"
"Ah I see now."

Another one went like this:
"Around about 1979, before me and your mother got married, I was leaving the schoolhouse, when I see this car. It had a blue and white colour scheme, and had what looks like your police markings on. We all gather around the car, since many of us never knew what a motor car looked like. So the police officer in the car opens the window, then gets out of the window and on the roof, and sits on the lights, trying to get a signal. Now back then, we had some kind of signal black-zone, so he could not radio his superiors, which meant he had to go back the way he came to tell everyone what he found. The day watch guards came galloping over, and after much resistance from the officer, arrested him, and locked him in a cell. They got a brief insight into what an RCMP was, and the mysterious place called Whitehorse they were from. We managed to keep the car as a trophy, and put it on top of the highest building in Alderney, but it was moved up to the capital city to go to the Museum of Humans, where we take most of the things we procure from the humans."
"So what happened to the police officer?" Jeremiah asked.
"He caught a virus, and died. He refused medical treatment, saying he would rather be treated by a human." Thomas replied.
"Where is the capital? I may need to go contact Parliament Hill and give them the address of the governing building."
"It is called Steed, and it is very far north. There is, however, a train service that runs between Whitehorse and Steed, but it is a private line, and you need to show proof to use the train. But you are basically proof, so you have got very few checks to go through if you want to board the train. I do not know about the Prime Minister, however, I think they would treat him like any other human."

The next day, Thomas' lameness had disappeared, also like the wound, which had its bandage taken off that morning. There was a lot of father-son bonding that needed to be done in the few days Jeremiah was staying for, so after Thomas made sure his legs were at good health, he put on some 'mufti' (civilian clothing, in WW1 language), a buttoned shirt and dark brown striped vest and tie, and walked with Jeremiah to the tailor to get him some more appropriate clothes to wear.
"Constable Jeremiah Allis, Royal Canadian Mounted Police, I'm here with my dad to look for some clothing to wear while I'm in hiding here, and anything you can give me that fits, doesn't look odd or something else would be greatly appreciated." Jeremiah told the tailor, who was working on making a fur hat.
"Ah yes constable, come this way." The tailor replied, putting down the hat, and walking away from the counter. Jeremiah was measured, and he was given a choice of clothes. He went through a lot of vests, ties, and a shirt, but in the end, he found something more... fitting - a white business shirt, and a tie and vest, both of those in very dark midnight blue - commonly misinterpreted as black - with epaulettes. Thomas gave the tailor the money, and it was all of the money he had taken with him, barring some change.

"You know what, son? Those clothes look good on you. With them sleeve things of yours on, they really do fit quite well with the colour scheme." Thomas told Jeremiah as they trotted down the dirt main road of the town.
"Yes, I really wanted to feel more 'at home' in these. Makes me think like I'm still in the Mounted Police in some fashion." Jeremiah replied.
"Well you are, are you not? You are just off duty and thankfully, not in witness protection."
"How do you know what witness protection is?"
"They still run by those laws up here. We have a whole town set aside for them, except it is never is as quaint as this place."
"Why do you all speak in less abbreviated words?"
"Since we are pretty much a separate territory, and since we also do not use your mobile telephones, our English still evolves, but slowly and differently."

A few minutes later, the two left Alderney by the north exit, and started galloping. Along the way, Thomas decided to have his revolver ready, just in case any spies or soldiers catch his eye. They soon slowed down to canter pace, and then veered towards a small forest. Thomas wanted to train Jeremiah if he was to join the army if they got too close, and this was the place.
"When I was a child..." Thomas began, before Jeremiah interrupted him.
"Have you ever heard of a human called Benton Fraser, dad?" Jeremiah asked.
"No, I never did."
"Oh, because if you did know, I would have compared you to him. Please continue."
"Okay, when I was a young colt, my mother would take me down here with a BB gun, and she would teach me how to shoot. I know, it is a little young to learn to shoot, but if we are a separate path on taxonomy, rules like that do not matter. Anyway, I got my license when I passed into adolescence, bearing in mind; we declare that you become a stallion at 13 if male, and for females, 14 to be mares. I really wished I could celebrate your stallionhood, but alas, your mother had to take you for that walk. Sorry, I am driving off topic again - at 13, I got the rifle license, and as a part-time job, I took it upon myself to hunt elk, caribou, deer, and more for my parents. They would pay me one dollar for every animal I bring, and two dollars for moose."
"So aside from all that, what am I going to learn?"
"I have brought some mock grenades, so not to scare the locals, and I am going to teach you how to throw some."

The 'mock' grenades looked too realistic, actually. In fact, the mock was a real grenade, but with the innards completely reworked to make it a silent flash of light, which produced a small amount of smoke for five seconds after it 'exploded', and the safety pin gave the actual time required to throw the grenade before it 'exploded' in Jeremiah's hand.
"Once you pull the pin, you've got a few seconds to throw it towards what you are aiming at before it explodes. which in real life, would kill you and/or amputate your hand. So quickly pull the pin, and hit the rocks over there." Thomas instructed.
"What happens if I don't with these mocks?" Jeremiah asked.
"They will flash a great amount of light and smoke, so you must throw it once the pin is pulled. Do not tell me you have pulled the pin right now."
"I haven't, dad."
"Good."

Jeremiah pulled the pin of the first grenade, and threw it at the rocks, the wind blowing it off course, as well as Jeremiah's quivering arm. The grenade flashed momentarily, and began to smoke, and Jeremiah looked at the pin he held in his fingers, thinking about what he had done. He stopped thinking, and threw the pin on the floor, grabbing a new grenade. He tried more and more, until eventually he hit his target, striking the rocks dead-centre. And there he was once again, holding the pin, thinking about the potential soldiers he would kill throwing a grenade. It soon became too much for him, and he threw himself on the floor crying.
"Hush now, it is okay, they are not real people, Jeremiah." Thomas said in an attempt to comfort Jeremiah.
"Dad, the war is coming, and I'm not ready for this kind of combat! I don't want to die, and I don't want to fight!" Jeremiah replied, wiping tears from his face.
"Jeremiah, we are fighting to keep those soldiers away, and the war will be away by the time you sign up."
"That's no different! There is still war, and I'm going to be involved!"

He eventually stopped crying, cleared himself up, and got back to training. Thomas got a rifle which was hidden in the trees, and attached a bayonet on it. Jeremiah obviously could tell what he was doing.
"Okay, this bayonet you have on here, that is for close quarters combat, and usually, it is a killer because of injuries to the leg. Now if it becomes too much, we can stop this and do it another day, but by the looks of it, you seem to be trying to keep calm." Thomas said.
"I am dad, I know that this will kill people, and I'm trying my hardest to keep calm about it." Jeremiah replied. He breathed in and out for a few seconds, then started slowly bayonetting the tree, as if it was the enemy. Thomas watched on, noticing how much Jeremiah was doing to stop him breaking down in a puddle of tears once again. By the time Jeremiah was done, the tree had lost some bark, and some sap was even 'bleeding' out.

Thomas walked over, and looked at the indentations on the tree. Sap trickled down the bark of the tree, and he even noted that it was damaged.
"You have really stabbed this, the sap is trickling down, I think you damaged it." Thomas said, putting his finger through a hole. He pulled it out, and it was covered in sap.
"So this is how to bayonet someone? Just stab them?" Jeremiah asked.
"Well it is quite self-explanatory. All you need to do is... oh god, get back."

A bear was prowling the forested area, and had thankfully not caught the scent of father and son together.
"What do we do? We'll most likely get killed!" Jeremiah whispered.
"Stay quiet, and slowly walk out. Do not make any sudden moves which can alert it, and shoot it. There is a full cartridge of ammunition in the rifle, and it takes a few to bring down a bear."

Jeremiah slowly walked out of the woods, taking aim with the rifle at the bear's head. He slowly moved his finger to the trigger as he got closer to the bear, and once he was close enough, he fired. The bear was shot in the head, and was killed instantly. Once the coast was clear, Thomas walked over, grabbed the rifle out of Jeremiah's hands, and cut out a piece of the bear, saying "Bear meat for dinner tonight."

The meat was put in a bag Thomas found on the side of the dirt path, and he said they had to move, because it was too dangerous. They galloped a few kilometres to a plains area, where Jeremiah was taught much more about combat in the military, trench warfare and other things, which Jeremiah hoped that some tactics he could use in police work. By midday, they had finished training, and Jeremiah and Thomas raced each other back to Alderney, with Jeremiah taking shortcuts and jumping over obstacles, while Thomas pressed himself on to go the fastest he could on the dirt path, kicking up dirt along the way. James called Jeremiah along the way, but didn't get an answer, since they were in the middle of an intense race.

When they passed through the border of Alderney, they slowed down to a trot, and surprisingly, Jeremiah won the race, even though he had to slow down because of obstacles. By the time Thomas came, he was visibly sweating, with his vest buttons undone, and his shirt covered in sweat. His tail was messy and swishing around everywhere, and his legs ached. After he cooled down, he got inside with Jeremiah, who was also sweating. However, the weather seemed to be cooling down, with snow on the horizon, and Thomas realised he had one of the last chances to show him something - 'swimming'.

Thomas came out of the bathroom holding two towels. He said, "I want to show you something, Jeremiah."
"Well what is it?" Jeremiah asked, as Thomas threw the towels on his back like a saddle.
"Have you ever tried swimming before?"
"Never. I'm scared I'll drown."
"When I just turned stallion, I found this small pond, it's not too deep, but it's deep enough. Maybe I could change your mind. If you work in the police, you should get over the fear, because what happens if you have to rescue someone from drowning?"
"Well okay, I'll go. But I don't think the police would risk sending me in the water."
"You can tell them you learned to..."
"It's not that easy. Let's get going then."

After he wiped his face, Thomas got out of the house with Jeremiah, and galloped a few kilometres to another wooded area, but with different types of trees. But the reason why Thomas brought Jeremiah there was shining in the sunlight. The pond.
"Beautiful, eh?" Thomas asked, his pun not intended.
"I see what you did there, dad. How do I get in?" Jeremiah asked.
"First, you should take your clothes off."

Jeremiah unbuttoned his vest and shirt, and took off his tie, hanging them on a tree. Thomas did the same as well, only hanging them on a different tree. The two, now shirtless, stood in front of the pond, and looked at their reflections, rippling in the slow current of the water. A flock of birds flew above, and chirped their song along the way. But Jeremiah didn't seem to have the willpower to wade into the water, while Thomas threw the towels on the grass, and waded in himself, the water reaching his torso, slightly lifting him off the bottom of the pond. He kicked his legs slowly, keeping himself afloat.
"Come on Jeremiah, it is easy, it is not so deep." Thomas said to Jeremiah, who was a little nervous about wading in.
"But I might drown." Jeremiah said, sullenly.
"Calm yourself, just go in slowly, and once you are in, just slowly kick your legs, okay?"

After he managed to get the willpower to do so, Jeremiah slowly waded into the water, and once he was lifted off the ground, he started kicking his legs, and soon, he began to become very excited, saying "I'm doing it, dad!" in utter excitement as he slowly swam around the pond.
"Never let your fears overtake your ambitions, son, that is what I learned in school. That is why I know so much - I aspired." Thomas replied, as he began a lap of the pond.

A centaur out for a walk noticed the clothes thrown on the trees, and walked over to the pond where the two were swimming. She saw the two swimming, and decided to try for herself. She waded in, kicked her legs, and joined the two in the pond, splashing around, racing them (at a plausible rate), and generally taking part in a new experience. They finally got out nearly an hour later, with all three of them shivering once they got out.
"So what's your name?" Jeremiah asked the woman.
"My name is Martha Gates, and I am from the town council. What you two showed me was not as risky as I thought it was." Martha replied.
"I'm Jeremiah and he's Thomas. We're both from the Allis family."
"Jeremiah, oh, I heard about you, you were missing for 30 years! Welcome back."

"Dad, towel please, maybe one for her." Jeremiah said to Thomas once he finished talking.
"She can have mine when I am done with it." Thomas replied, as he dried his tail, with assistance from Jeremiah. The two dried themselves off, then Thomas threw over his towel to Martha, who dried herself off without assistance, being a little smaller than the average mare. Once he was dry, Jeremiah put his clothes back on, and then Thomas and Martha did so too. Martha galloped off to the town hall, while Jeremiah and Thomas galloped back home.

Over the course of the next few days, Jeremiah bonded with his family, learnt military tactics from his father, and worked in a store for his mother. The day came where Jeremiah had to pack up and leave for civilization once more, because James had said the mafia had stopped looking. He kissed his mother goodbye, but couldn't say goodbye to his father, because he was going back to war. Jeremiah left Alderney, passed through the treeline, and re-joined the dirt path passing Fraser's house, and was soon on his way home. Unbeknownst to him, there was still a hit out on him.

"Jeremiah, they knocked on the door yesterday, and asked if you were there. I said you wasn't, and they searched the house, and left. They still want you, that's all I know." James told Jeremiah once he got back in.
"When I went into hiding James, I learned a few things, like handling grenades and swimming." Jeremiah replied.
"Did you just say swimming, Jeremiah?"
"Yes I did, just need to kick my legs and be in shallow water."
"Look, wherever you are going to, bring me along."
"I'm sorry but they don't allow humans."
"Wait, what?!"
"They don't want me to tell this, but that place where I was dumped when you found me? A couple kilometres away, through the trees, I was born there. But if you go in there, you'll get arrested."

It was a few minutes before the briefing, so Jeremiah rushed to the RCMP detachment, signed back on duty, and got changed just in time to get to his briefing.
"Jeremiah, nice to see you've made it for once." The sergeant said.
"Why thank you." Jeremiah replied, putting his Stetson back on.

"Alright people, today's a Tuesday, August 25th, and we've got word of explosions occurring near the trees. No evidence of terrorism or even accidents have been reported, so if you find any evidence of the explosions, send two copies of the evidence if you can - one to the RCMP, one to Interpol. Now we also have a BOLF (Be On Lookout For) on a male with black hair, wearing a plaid shirt and jeans, name is Ricardo Smith." The sergeant told everyone in the briefing. Jeremiah knew Ricardo Smith was dead, and raised his hand.
"Sir, Ricardo Smith is dead." Jeremiah said. The whole room filled with murmuring.
"Jeremiah, how do you know this?"
"I thought about how he was reportedly close to the trees, and thought that an explosion must have killed him."
"Who told you about him being near the trees?"
"That would be classified, even to C-SIS sir."
"Okay, so Ricardo Smith is dead, but we cannot confirm, since Crime Scene Investigation have not identified a body. Now with the increased amount of explosions in the woods, we are going to put more units near the trees. We are going to have some officers patrolling Whitehorse still, but I want any available unit to be posted near the trees so we can find the cause of the explosions."

Once everyone got their assigned locations, they got in their cars, and went on duty. Jeremiah, however, had to hang back because for the first time as a police constable, he was going to be saddled. A constable, his name tag reading 'C. Tomlinson' carried Jeremiah's saddle and put it in the parking lot. Once Jeremiah got in the parking lot, the sergeant got out, and assisted constable Tomlinson with Jeremiah's saddle. Before Jeremiah was mounted, there was an instant problem.
"You're going to need your breeches and boots, partner." Jeremiah told Tomlinson. He walked back into the detachment, changed his pants and shoes, then walked back out, and mounted Jeremiah. They soon rode off towards the highway bordering the treeline, which had a lot less traffic than usual.
Banned
Original Poster
#9 Old 10th Feb 2016 at 10:40 PM
Default Constable Centaur - C8 - Intervention - P1
Jeremiah and Constable Tomlinson watched the traffic together, listening for any explosions. With his increased hearing range, Jeremiah heard the faint sound of explosions beyond the trees on the battlefield.
"Do you hear that?" Jeremiah asked.
"What sound? Do we have explosions, because I can't hear them." Constable Tomlinson asked, not having the same hearing range, which meant he heard nothing.
"I'm hearing explosions in the distance. Repeatedly."
"I don't hear nothing, Jeremiah. Maybe it's because you have horse hearing."
"Well if I had actual horse ears, it'd be a bit creepy. But yes, from what I recall, a horse's hearing range is about 55,500 to 33,500hz, and a human's is a bit higher. I have horse and human hearing combined, but not evenly, so I can hear around about 74,500 to 33,500hz, and I'm 71,000hz. Or at least what it was when I last got my ears checked. So yeah, I can hear more than you."
"That was completely irrelevant about what I had just said, but cool story."

With a ANPR set up on a tripod, Constable Tomlinson checked every vehicle that passed with a laptop, and eventually flagged down a 1996 blue Ford Crown Victoria, with a license plate of SGH 98.
"There. blue sedan, SGH 98. Revoked license. Lets get him, Jeremiah." Constable Tomlinson told Jeremiah. He rose up, put his kneecaps on Jeremiah's back, and held on while Jeremiah galloped to catch up to the Crown Victoria, using hand signals to pull him over.
"RCMP! PULL THE VEHICLE OVER!" Jeremiah shouted in an attempt to pull the vehicle over. It didn't, and it kept speeding away, and Jeremiah radioed in that the vehicle was not stopping. A pursuit was declared, and this was his first pursuit. He pushed himself to top speed, and caught up to the driver, who reacted, as usual, in shock. Since he couldn't attempt to ram down or kick the vehicle in some fashion, he needed to stay in pursuit with the driver, and keep up until backup arrives.

"Suspect is going north-west on Highway 2, vehicle is a blue Ford Crown Victoria, more details as soon as I can get them." Jeremiah told the units responding to the chase with his portable radio. The wind was getting in his face, and his hat was close to falling off. While in pursuit, he considered putting a strap on his Stetson, but that would ruin the resale value and/or make him look like he was wearing a hat stolen off an Australian. But that didn't matter - what did matter was the pursuit. He was getting tired, and his legs were beginning to ache. Sweat trickled down, and body heat increased. If the pursuit did not end quickly, he was going to collapse.

Finally, backup arrived. Three patrol units came speeding past Jeremiah, and co-ordinated with Jeremiah to box him in. It was risky, because Jeremiah was the weakest point of the box, and at any moment, the car could slam it's brakes, and crash into Jeremiah, possibly breaking his legs. But the car managed to slow down, and after much struggle, stopped. Jeremiah quickly got back as the car braked, and once it stopped, he galloped over after Constable Tomlinson dismounted, and helped the officers force the driver out of the car, using his ASP baton to smash the window to open the locked door. He pulled out the driver, slammed him onto the side of the car, and after he was frisked, handcuffed him, putting him in the back of a patrol car.
"Your first pursuit, Jeremiah, am I right?" A corporal asked.
"Yep, first vehicular pursuit. You happen to have any buckets of water? I'm absolutely sweating." Jeremiah replied, straightening his Stetson.
"Take some rest, that's what I'd do. We don't have any buckets of water on us, but we do have water bottles, if you want all of us to be dehydrated for the rest of the day."
"That's an okay sacrifice."

Constable Tomlinson helped Jeremiah exercise his four legs, raising them up as high as they could to put strain on, in case he was going stiff. His hooves would have received quite a beating if it wasn't for the horseshoes, and he felt that he had got them just in time. Officers got water bottles out of their cars, unscrewed the caps, and started throwing what water they could at Jeremiah's horse half, which cooled him down slightly, but not enough.

Someone called a fire truck to hose Jeremiah down, and the truck came trundling down the highway, no lights or sirens on. A constable gave the incarcerated suspect a signal to wait a few minutes as the firemen in non-protective clothes hooked up a hose, and started spraying cold, but slower water at Jeremiah, which cooled him down considerably. After he was hosed on one side, he turned around, and was hosed on the other. After being hosed in the hind area, he was dried off quickly, which left him still dripping with water.

Jeremiah opened the door of the car with the suspect in, and began to talk, firstly reading out the suspect's rights.
"I am arresting you for failing to stop for police. It is my duty to inform you that you have the right to retain and instruct counsel without delay. You may call any lawyer you want. There is a 24-hour telephone service available which provides a legal aid duty lawyer who can give you legal advice in private. This advice is given without charge and the lawyer can explain the legal aid plan to you. If you wish to contact a legal aid duty lawyer, I can provide you with a telephone number. Do you understand? Do you want to call a lawyer? You are not obliged to say anything, but anything you do say may be given in evidence." Jeremiah said, reading out a page in his notepad. (These are actual Canadian Miranda rights)
"I understand, and I would not like to call a lawyer." The suspect replied.
"I... I mean, we were trying to pull you over for a revoked license. No matter if you ran or not sir, you would still be arrested. All you're doing is wasting mine, my partner's, the RCMP's and the fire department's time."
"Revoked license? I was driving to Whitehorse to get my license renewed!"
"Sir, please don't protest, you should not drive with a revoked license. That is a felony." Jeremiah stopped for a few seconds, because somehow, he could hear the driver's heartbeat very faintly. It was increasing, which meant he was lying.
"What are you doing?"
"Sir, you are lying."
"How?"
"From my advanced hearing range, I can conclude that when you said you were getting your license renewed, your heart rate picked up."
"What the hell?!"
"It's something called horse ears."

Officers crowded around him now. Even the firemen, who were at the time rolling up their hose, crowded around, overhearing how Jeremiah knew the man was lying. Jeremiah shut the door of the cruiser, and overheard the muffled curses of the suspect. Everyone made space so Jeremiah could turn around, and let Constable Tomlinson mount him.
"Aw great, the saddle's wet!" Constable Tomlinson complained.
"I was being hosed down by the fire department, what do you expect?" Jeremiah replied.
"Well they could have brushed you. You are a mess."

Tufts of hair on Jeremiah's horse half either stuck out or were in many different directions. It wasn't aesthetically pleasing, which made Jeremiah a little annoyed. Since he didn't take into consideration he would be sweating, Jeremiah didn't bring any large bottles of water or brushes to cool him down and make him look better, which meant for the rest of the day, he would be a mess. Jeremiah galloped back to the traffic watch area, this time taking breaks to relax his legs and stop the sweat from dehydrating him.

The rest of the day went slowly. A few traffic stops, and even still, only 1/8ths of those stops resulted in arrests. Many conversations were had to pass the time, and near the end of Jeremiah and Constable Tomlinson's shift, the two were arresting a woman with possession of drugs with intent to supply, and as a unit pulled up to take the woman away, a cannon was fired. As the woman was put in the car, Jeremiah could hear the Stuka plane-like sound of the bomb dropping and yelled "GET DOWN NOW!", and everyone quickly got on the floor, including Jeremiah.

As everyone laid on the floor, their faces on the asphalt, the bomb dropped into the treeline, and exploded. A small fireball erupted from the bomb site, and the windows of the police cruiser were smashed. Almost instantly, the trees caught fire. Once it was declared safe, everyone got off the asphalt, and recollected themselves. Jeremiah instantly ran towards the fire, and while everyone shouted him to get back immediately, he tried to fight the fire to get to the bomb crater. Using a fallen branch, he swatted the fire, putting out fires until the branch itself caught fire, then once the fire department arrived, waited until the fire was out to get to the crater. Once the fire was out, Jeremiah and first responders ran into the bomb site, and immediately began digging for clues - literally.

Pieces of shrapnel were stuck in trees, and the ground was charred. A dead deer, with a third-degree burn on it's side lay on the floor, and what looked like the burned remains of a camping tent. Jeremiah instantly paid close attention to the tent, and thankfully, the campers in the tent had cleared out days ago, as evidenced by the rotting meat. Once the bomb site was cordoned off, Jeremiah began investigating more thoroughly, and with most of his strength, pulled out a massive shard of shrapnel from a scorched pine tree. There was half a marking imprinted on the shrapnel, and Jeremiah figured that it was casing. The marking was a horseshoe with numbers above it, but the other half seemed to have disintegrated. But that thankfully appeared to not be the case. Half a kilometre away, someone found the other half of the bomb fragment Jeremiah found, and once these were put together, it read: '90210 - SOLDIERS OF PEGASUS USE ONLY'.

There was no way he could hide the evidence, otherwise he would be tampering with it. If the police found out who the Soldiers Of Pegasus were, and where they were operating, the three-or-so century war would have a third, all-powerful faction to end the war - the Canadian Army. Only by a slim chance, Jeremiah thought, that the Canadian Army would not be directly involved, and a truce was organized with the CTA by the Prime Minister. He hoped for this, but it was not to be the case for now.
"Jeremiah, do you know who the Soldiers of Pegasus are?" A C-SIS agent asked him a few minutes later.
"I do, but I am not affliated with them in any way. I wish to talk to the Prime Minister about this situation." Jeremiah replied, the C-SIS agent making a side glance at his partner.
"In the interests of safety, we will not allow you to talk to the Prime Minister unless you bring any valuable evidence about what is going on here."
"I can catch a train somewhere and bring someone over, sir."
"Alright, you catch a train, and we'll speak to Sussex Drive about the situation. But any funny business, and you're being sold for medical science."

After CTV and CBS and more news programmes questioned him, Jeremiah ended his shift early, galloped over to the White Pass and Yukon Route's Whitehorse stop, and asked for a train to Steed. Someone called a special number on the phone, and asked for the train driver to pick Jeremiah up and send him to Steed. A steam train came down the line, and once he had paid the money and got onboard, set off to Steed.

Once the train stopped at the capital, he could see a massive technology gap between Whitehorse and Steed. Not a single car was on the streets, not even one parked. The architecture style was more Victorian-Era style, and the clothes the 52,000 or so centaurs of Steed wore were slightly steampunk and mostly Victorian. A common sight on the streets of Steed was usually the arrest of an SOP spy, since the city was constantly being invaded by spies, who usually end up in prisons across the territory.

Night had befallen on the city, and there was a curfew in effect at 10:30PM because of the war. But Jeremiah knew that the Premier's Palace would be still occupied by those who were awake, including Premier Snow of The Unofficial Territory of Centauria. He swore he knew that Premier Snow was in The Hunger Games, but it was a long time since he read the books. The guards at the door took influence from the British Royal Guards - not moving unless any danger was sighted. These men were dedicated to protecting the Premier's Palace - CTA -grade rifles held in hand, posing a threat to intruders. When Jeremiah attempted to get inside the palace, they suddenly snapped into action, and pointed their rifles at Jeremiah.
"ARMY! STEP AWAY FROM THE GATE!" A guard screamed.
"Gentlemen, let me through, I'm an officer of the law in the Yukon Territory, and what I'm trying to deliver here concerns the war and human relations." Jeremiah pleaded. A guard walked to a guard phone box, and called security to let Jeremiah in.
"Sir, you can go in, but anything you try which may endanger the Premier and his family will result in you being shot on sight." A guard calmly said, opening the gate for him.

Jeremiah was then let through the iron gates of the palace, trotting to the marble steps of the main entrance. It was on the same level as The White House, but had some cues from the Romanian Presidential Palace. Built in the 1800's, during the slowest part of the war that seemed to never end, it was as big as all three blocks of Parliament Hill combined. It flew the flag of Canada, the CTA flag and finally, the Centauria flag - the Red Ensign. Jeremiah knocked on the doors of the palace, and was let in by one of the many caretakers of the house.
"Where can I find the Premier?" Jeremiah asked the caretaker.
"Take the stairs to the third floor, he awaits in his office, sir." The caretaker replied.

The door of Premier Snow's office was knocked once Jeremiah got to it. Premier Snow, a tall, hairy and black Shire centaur, answered the door, and greeted him.
"Constable Jeremiah Allis, Royal Canadian Mounted Police." Jeremiah said to Premier Snow.
"Jeremiah? I've always wanted to meet you. Premier George Snow, I am the Chief Minister of the Centauria government." Premier Snow replied. Once he got word of Jeremiah's disappearance 30 years ago, he came to visit his family, and he always kept checking with the Yukon Premier to see if he was there. Soon, he gave up.
"Should I stand up?"
"Yes, I do not like clearing the carpet."

Premier Snow sat on the floor, ignoring what he had just said, and got out a ball-point pen and a notepad. He knew Jeremiah was here because of the war.
"Mr Snow, I have some offerings and information about the war on the human side." Jeremiah said.
"Yes. Go on." Premier Snow replied, writing down some things.
"While I was on patrol on a human highway, an Pegasus-produced bomb was dropped very close to me and my human partners at the treeline. It thankfully killed no human this time, but this bomb was dropped very far from the battlefield. Has the range of bombs increased in the past few days?"
"One of my military commanders did say that new bombs were being mass-produced in the Pegasus factories that they declared could reach Whitehorse if the trenches are lost."
"My father reported that they were losing trenches because of suicidal attack plans. What we need in the trenches is defence. But since the bombs could hit Whitehorse, I think you need to organize a peace deal with the Canadian Army, and from what my father has said, loan a tank or two from them."
"Jeremiah, in case you and your father didn't realise, this is our war. We do not want intervention by the Canadian parliament..."
"With all due respect sir, the Centaur Territorial Army could be helped out by a few tanks. In the trenches, they become Swiss Cheese during an attack on the trenches. Sending in Canadian armour could help the army dearly, but you first would need to secure a peace deal with the Prime Minister of Canada."
"How do I consult the Prime Minister? With Steed not available via air or motor car travel, how is he supposed to get here?"
"Make an airfield. Just dig up some dirt, and pour tarmac on the dirt."
"We have tarmac reserves, so that is possible. Is that all we need?"
"Until Steed gets on the map, yes."

Immediately, Snow called the construction workers to get the tarmac and shovels to dig up a plains area for a temporary runway. Once confirmation of the runway's construction was sent, the phone was put down, and talks continued.
"Okay, I just had second thoughts, and I realised that yes, we need a tank or two. As of today, I have been told half a company had been killed in an attack. Out of our population, we have 750,000 troops in active service, and 10,000 in reserve. So as soon as the runway is complete, I will contact the Prime Minister to fly over." Premier Snow said, before receiving confirmation that the Prime Minister will travel via rail to Steed from Whitehorse.
"So the runway is cancelled I guess?" Jeremiah asked.
"Sure is. So you should stay while the Prime Minister comes, and you can be involved in talks, as you represent the humans as a resident of Whitehorse."
"But what about my personal assistant? I haven't seen him since this morning."
"He is human as well, but I do not know about allowing him in the palace."
"Do you have a phone I could use to contact him?"
"Yes I do. I will give you the Saint John suite a few doors down from here for you to sleep in. The walls are a pale red-pink colour, you cannot miss it. There is a phone in there you can use to contact him."

Jeremiah was put in awe immediately after he entered the Saint John suite. The room was as lavish as a bedroom in Buckingham Palace - a high roof, tall windows and a large duvet where Jeremiah was to sleep. There was a cabinet where he could put his clothes, and most important to him right now, an old-fashioned telephone. Thankfully, cables did run to Whitehorse, so a call was made.
"Hello, James Garland, Health Canada. If this concerns Jeremiah, please tell me where he is." James said on his phone in Whitehorse.
"It's Jeremiah. I'm in a guest house in a palace north of Whitehorse." Jeremiah replied.
"A palace?! Where?!"
"They call this place Steed. I know it is not on the map, but it is the capital of the unofficial territory I'm from."
"How do I get there?"
"You can't. You're human, so you can't go, but the Premier asked the Prime Minister to come to this palace."
"Why?"
"Confidential reasons."
"So when will you come back?"
"When talks with the Prime Minister have concluded."
"Well I have been told that he is flying to Whitehorse to catch a train to this so-called city you're in."
"Right now?"
"Taking off from CFB Trenton in his jet, yes."
"Alright, when do you think he'll arrive?"
"By morning. How long does the train ride last?"
"One hour and thirty minutes. So talks may begin after breakfast. Speaking of, I must go, the Premier has called me to dinner."
"See you tomorrow or whenever, Jeremiah."

Jeremiah was taken to dinner by a butler, and stood at the table, and eyed the banquet. At the front end of the table was Premier Snow, joined by his wife Rosanne, and his four kids, called Bella, Grace, Thalia and Ben respectively. Wearing just his white business shirt and a napkin, Snow picked up a knife and fork, and started cutting up his meats. In the seat opposite him, Rosanne, wearing an tan-coloured evening dress, which stretched so big, it covered her whole horse half, and trailed on the floor a few centimetres on all sides. Her three daughters wore similarly-sized, yet different coloured dresses, usually of pastel colour, and Ben wore a slightly-creased grey shirt. All wore napkins, and were slowly progressing through their food.
"If you want something else not from here, there is a grocery a couple blocks away." Premier Snow told Jeremiah.
"Thanks, but I'll think I'll have a healthier option, Snow." Jeremiah replied.
At the dinner table, Jeremiah was introduced to all members of the family. Ben, who was slightly grumpy, did not say a single word to him.
"Oh excuse him; he is on his last month of colthood." Rosanne said to Jeremiah.
"Huh, so he is. How old is he? Twelve?" Jeremiah asked.
"Twelve years and eleven months, you are just about correct."
"I'm thirty years and God-knows months."
"How you survived out in the human territory, I would love to know, but you have really progressed on. How you have integrated into society, how you got a job in the police, we are all impressed."
"Except of course, Ben."
"Well yes, I do think the testosterone in his body is higher than humans, and with puberty coming, it is going to end up with multiple acts of violence."
"When I became a teen...sorry, stallion, I moved out of my adoptive parents' house with my carer. Since I was becoming too big and costly for them, they bought us a house off the route of a motor car road, and they sent some of our stuff there. Because of the testosterone spike, I had a very short fuse back then, and in the first year of my stallionhood, the police were called thirty-three times."
"Were you ever arrested?"
"No, they managed to form a group which were sent out to calm me down. While I was going through puberty, they sent me sedatives which I took once a week, and now I'm a more polite person. Have you considered getting Ben some sedatives?"
"They were outlawed a few years ago after one of the previous Premier's children died of an overdose. Now we have to make do and mend with puberty."
"Now that you mentioned it, I did have a minor overdose. But they managed to get me out of it before I died."
"In your human world, what is the healthcare system like?"
"Well in the Dominion of Canada, healthcare is pretty much free. I am covered by many insurances by the government, the vet service, the healthcare service, the police, education, transport, many other insurances."
"So where is the Dominion of Canada?"
"You're in it!"

Rosanne dropped her knife and fork on her plate, the utensils making a clanging sound. After recollecting herself, she picked up the utensils, and continued.
"Sorry, my fingers slipped." She said.
"Thank God they did, I thought you were going to start yelling or something." Jeremiah replied. The conversation finished, as Rosanne continued her meal. Premier Snow cut a slice of beef as he finished off the first course of his meal. Thalia, wearing a (fittingly) light green dress, started talking to Jeremiah, who was not enjoying his lettuce.
"So where are you from?" Thalia asked.
"Well I was born in Alderney, due south of here, but where I live right now is further south in a city called Whitehorse. Have you ever heard of a car?" Jeremiah replied.
"He means motor cars, like what the humans ride, Thalia." Rosanne whispered.
"No, I have never seen a car like that before. The only type of car I know is a train car, because we ride on it a lot." Thalia said.
"Where I'm from, there are over 31 million registered cars in the country." Jeremiah replied. (THIS IS ACTUALLY TRUE)
"Wow, that's a lot of rid..."
"Drivers."
"Okay, that's a lot of drivers."

Half an hour later, dessert was finished, and after Jeremiah swapped wine for water, he drank, and cleared his table for the maids. Premier Snow helped Rosanne to get fully on her four hooves, and lifted her dress so she wouldn't trip over. Even though dinner was over, Jeremiah still stayed in the dinner hall, and stared out of the window, his Stetson on the windowsill. A few minutes later, someone turned the light off, and instead of walking out and closing the door, joined Jeremiah in staring out of the window, this someone being Premier Snow.
With a sigh, Premier Snow said, "I wish this war could end."
"Ditto. My father is fighting somewhere out there, and I'm hoping he didn't die today. I hope that every day." Jeremiah replied.
"Maybe if the Canadian Army does intervene, we could potentially end the war this year."
"But I think five tanks could scare them to surrender. Maybe a battalion could have a tank, and four could lie in reserve."
"That is actually a good idea, but what if they sneak around another direction?"
"If they pass through the trees, they'll deploy the army fully, I think."
"So when will he arrive?"
"Hopefully this morning. But getting from the train station to here, I don't know how he will."

"Alright, how the heck do I get to this palace? How is the security detail going to get there, too?!" The Prime Minister, Stephen Harper, complained, not knowing if he is going to be driven to wherever this so-called 'Premier's Palace' is.
"I don't think any terrorists would want to assassinate you over there, sir, because it is landlocked unless you take a train, which even still isn't allowed to regular citizens, and no known terrorist group exists up that far in the northwest." Harper's RCMP security director replied, sitting with him in a compartment of his plane.
"Who knows, some FLQ terrorists may just waltz up and shoot me like I'm JF freaking K!"
"There is no need to..."
"Of course there is, this place isn't even on the freaking map!"

Stephen Harper went to bed going from nervous to angry. His wife questioned why, but he responded with more frustration. Eventually, his wife got out of bed, and slept in the seats of the plane. As the night went on, the plane got closer and closer to Erik Nielson International Airport, and in the morning, under heavy protection, the passengers of the plane disembarked, and left for the White Pass station. They left their cars behind, and boarded a train to Steed.

Constable Centaur - C8 - Intervention - P2

Should I wear my saddle today?" Jeremiah asked the maid in his room in the morning.
"Hmm, yes, it is a formal event, so you should wear your saddle. Via word of mouth, I heard that the military commanders of both armies are showing up today." The maid tidying Jeremiah's duvet replied.
Jeremiah suddenly turned around, and asked, "Are two arch enemies seriously showing up to talk to our Prime Minister?!"
"With high security, yes."
"Good God, why?!"

Jeremiah picked up his saddle off the floor, and started securing it on. As of the time, Jeremiah was shirtless, and his eyes were slightly bleary from waking up. He threw on his saddle onto his back, the shabrack was first - the RCMP saddle blanket, and once that was on, he then put on the saddle, strapping down the straps that secured the saddle on him which were loose. After his saddle was attached, Jeremiah put on his white undershirt, and then his scarlet tunic. He secured his Sam Browne, and put on his lanyard, secured his 'boots', then put on his Stetson. He was soon called to breakfast while he was trimming his tail.

Premier Snow was in an anxious mood. With maids and butlers constantly going in and out of rooms trying to set up the banquet hall were the talks were to be held, and someone having to hastily donate a bed just in case Harper has to stay the night, the atmosphere in the palace was tense.
"George, sweetheart, there is no need to feel tense. Once we talk to the Prime Minister and get peace with him, this war might be over this year." Rosanne said at the table when Jeremiah got in.
"He is going to get shot, the Pegasus are going to ruin it for all of us, what else bad could happen today?!" Snow cried.
"Hey, if we talk with the commanding officer of the enemy, maybe we can sign a..."
"NO TRUCE! WE COULD NEVER SIGN A TRUCE!"

The palace fell silent. Everyone had been taken aback at Premier Snow's shouting. A truce could never be signed because of the severe rivalry between military commanders, and thus, extra security would be placed within the banquet hall. After Premier Snow had calmed down, Jeremiah looked at the breakfast, and thought that it was not what he wanted. He was then let out of the palace, and came back with a box of imported cereal from a grocery store. Milk was poured, and soon, Jeremiah was eating the cereal.
"So what is that you are eating?" Rosanne asked.
"Therel." Jeremiah said, before clearing his mouth, and saying, "Cereal. Sorry, I have a habit of talking with my mouth open."
"Oh we do not mind. The children sometimes do that a lot, and we just get used to it."

After a glass of water, Jeremiah excused himself from the table, and exited the palace to get to the train station. Harper's train to Steed has disembarked, and on another train east from Steed, the two military commanders were being defended from each other by neutral guards. But as of the time, the Prime Minister was priority, and since he had no method of transportation, there was only one way he could get to the palace - riding. But first, introductions.
"Mr Prime Minister, I am Constable Jeremiah Allis, Royal Canadian Mounted Police, I'm guessing you know me from the television." Jeremiah said to the Prime Minister.
"Stephen Harper, your Prime Minister." Harper replied, then holding his arm out so Jeremiah could shake his hand. He did just that.
"Before you ask, I vote for Yukon Party."
"Good man. We need more people voting for..."
"Sorry sir, I'm so wrong, I actually vote for the Greens."
"Oh. Well your party has only got two seats, so I'll say your party sucks."
"Permission to slap?"
"Granted." Harper was then subsequently slapped in the face. "Has anyone ever said that you have a strong slap?"
"Why would they say that? Besides, I have more stronger arms than your species."
"Isn't that racist?"
"I don't think so sir. Anyway, I know only two ways of getting to the palace - on foot or on... centaurback?"
"Well that's a first."

Since Harper had not ridden a horse in quite some time, Jeremiah promised he'd take it easy. One of his bodyguards helped Harper onto the saddle, and once he checked that his stirrups were level, Jeremiah talked him through riding him.
"Alright Mr Prime Minister, now since you haven't ridden in quite some time, I'm going to take it easy for you. Because I don't have reins attached, you'll have to sit there and do what I say if we get faster. Now anything that you do that could be seen as harmful or anything along those lines, no matter if you are the Prime Minister or not, I will still rear up and kick you off. You clear, sir?" Jeremiah said.
"I'm clear, but have you discussed with security? Because they'd shoot you if you threw me off, most likely." Harper replied.
"Well I'm a..."
"They don't see the difference between police and terrorist if you put me in harm's way."
"Right, let's get going."

Even Harper's security detail were amazed at the locale and architecture of Steed. The residents of Steed lined the streets to watch the procession, some chanting slogans supporting peace. Harper waved at the crowd, and was confused to why the people were chanting for peace. While Jeremiah escorted the Prime Minister to the Premier's Palace, he thought that it would be best to give five tanks to the CTA - one each to a battalion. He suddenly had a thought - this war the CTA were fighting was almost exactly like WW1 - the stalemates, the trenches, the potential tank arrivals - the war bared lots of similarities.

The guards opened the gates to the palace. Harper kept thinking about why this part of the north didn't become a territory, and how all of these centaurs have been hidden from the people and the government. The crowd surged towards the fence to wait for the proceedings, and hoped a conclusion to the war would be sorted. Inside the palace, Harper dismounted, and brushed his pants off, making Jeremiah's coat hairs which had stuck to Harper's pants fall on the floor. Jeremiah then walked him to the banquet hall, and opened the door for him. In the banquet hall, a number of guests were in there - parliament guests who had already made the trip, the Premier's cabinet, and CTA veterans, some injured, some not. A banquet was set out, and so was a jazz band, playing something from the 40's.
Half an hour later, the CTA commanding officer was led in with much applause. His group of officers followed him into the banquet hall, and all greeted Stephen Harper with great adoration. It was almost like he had some positive cult of personality. Then armed guards walked in and parted the crowd, and the SOP commanding officer, and his officers were then let in, boos and hisses circulating. Harper refused to shake any of the SOP officer's hands, which was instantly seen as a bad sign towards the SOP. Jeremiah expressed his distaste by comparing them to the SS. In fact, they frighteningly took their cues from the Second AND Third Reich. Because of any offense to the German public, mention of the SOP was already banned from the start.

The doors were closed, and the band stopped playing. People crowded around the tables and a CBC News camera secretly smuggled into Steed was activated. Talks got underway, as Harper and his coalition of ministers stood at the table, along with the C/O of both armies.
"I would like to begin talks via introducing ourselves in a more... civilised manner. I know you in the black are serious enemies with you in the dark green, so I want these talks to conclude without any racial, provoked or unprovoked or any other kind of violence. To start, my name is Stephen Joseph Harper, current Prime Minister of Canada, and who will oversee the potential military involvement in the near future." Harper began. A small cheer went up from the CTA side.
"Commanding Officer Charles Chevalin, and I know what that means. Centaur Territorial Army, and they protect the unofficial territory of Centauria, which Mr Prime Minister, you are stepping... whatever they are called in." Commander Chevalin said.
"Imperator Francis Harrison, Commander of the Soldiers of Pegasus. We want a continent populated by almost all-centaur citizens, and the humans as..." Harrison began, before Harper started answering back.
"Oh I know what you want here, you want the human race to be your slave!" Harper argued.
"No, no, no, no, not in that sense!" Harrison lied.
"Can we please get to the situation at hand?" Chevalin pleaded.

The talks lasted three hours. Jeremiah was standing front-row in the crowd, and listened to the whole session. He hoped for a peaceful conclusion between Harper and Chevalin, but not one with Harrison. In fact, the talks seemed to be heading towards a peaceful conclusion with Harper and Chevalin. Highlights of the talks were usually about the army deployment. In fact, one section of talks went like this:
"The Canadian Army will not deploy foot soldiers unless extremely neccesary. We are looking to send five tanks to the battlefield, each one for a battalion to use. Soldiers who can use the tanks will be deployed too." Harper said, making Jeremiah's hopes high.
"If you are sending tanks, Mr Harper, our soldiers need to have some too to even the balance." Harrison replied.
"You have cannons, they can even the balance." Chevalin argued.
"But they'll only make a scratch on our tanks, Harrison." Harper lied.
"Huh, so they will. As of now, I don't know what those tanks will do, but I'm hoping we can crush them." Harrison said. Chevalin snickered at this remark.
A possible treaty chance between the CTA and SOP had already degraded to barely possible. As a deal was reached for a certain alliance between the Canadian Army and the CTA, barring limitations, including no foot soldiers unless necessary, and if the war is ended, Centauria would be recognized as an official territory. But the SOP representatives were not pleased at all. C/O Harrison interrupted a part of the talks near the end.
"...And a new RCMP division will be formed for you, and once we review..." Harper said, before being interrupted by C/O Harrison.
"WHAT ABOUT US?! NO MENTION OF US FOR HALF AN HOUR?!" Harrison yelled.
"CRISSE!" Harper swore.
"What about us, will we end up in death camps?!"
"Good question. Your troops who survive will be reintegrated into society, and receive much therapy. Those who are heavy believers, notable soldiers, or ectetra will end up in prison, like all high-ranking soldiers who survive." Chevalin replied.
"But will the war end?"
"Well we'll find out this year, like all these last 200+ years!"
"The war will not end!"
"It will!"
"Not with our attacking!"
"But with our tanks and sheer manpower, yes!"
"We'll blow up your tanks!"
"You'll pay the price - literally!"

Harper left the table without saying a word, walking over to the band. He was deeply disturbed by the massive argument that had just broke out, and thought that there was definitely a serious rivalry between the two. He couldn't send the tanks until winter, which seemed very bad, because it would slow down the end of the war, and more casualties would be risked. He had plans, and since he had seen Casablanca, he knew what he had to do.
"Play the national anthem, in a rather fast-paced thingy." He ordered. The jazz band immediately sprung into action, starting to play a fast-paced version of 'O' Canada'. After beginning the first line, the humans and CTA officers joined into Harper's singing. With sheer passion, love of his country and much emotion, Jeremiah soon sung over everyone else, and managed to shut up the SOP officers. As the anthem ended, Harper got onto Jeremiah's saddle, and stood up in it, singing the final notes. Once the anthem finished, cheers and whoops of excitement went up from the humans and CTA supporters. The SOP knew the government had definitely turned against them, and quickly left the palace. Rocks and stones were thrown on their way out at them.
"Yeah! Vive le Canada libre!" Harper shouted. Some people stopped clapping, and glanced at Harper. Jeremiah was compelled to slap him again, but in a room full of Canadian MPs and CTA officers, there was no way he could set a good example.
"Mr Prime Minister, that was a poor choice of words." Jeremiah warned him. "Do not say that ever again."
"Alright, jeez, next you'll be calling me Charles De Gaulle." Harper sarcastically replied.
"That's it, you're walking to the train station."
"What?!"
"I'm not walking someone who is going to anger Quebecois people to the train station. And that criteria has been filled."

Jeremiah went up the stairs and packed up his things from the Saint John Room. There was not a lot he had packed, but he packed some souvenirs and what he had brought along with him. He walked downstairs, told the Premier he was going home, and thanked him for his time. Premier Snow said something about the war, and that the tanks were definitely coming, and how he hoped to end the war by Christmas. Jeremiah said something about WW1, then left the palace, and galloped off to the train station to catch a train back to Whitehorse.

The train stopped at Whitehorse, and at the station, James was waiting. With what looked like a gun in his coat pocket. Jeremiah got off, and immediately confiscated James' gun.
"James, you cannot carry a gun in public." Jeremiah said as he reached for his handcuffs.
"I was fearing for my life, Jeremiah. Don't you know better?! I'm your personal assistant!" James argued.
"Concealed carry, unless authorized, is banned in this country. YOU should be the one who knows better. If you got that gun out, I would have probably shot you. Have you inquired with the firearms people about this?"
"No I have not."
"Well I'll be damned, you just got yourself arrested, James."

"Allis to control."
"Control to Allis, please tell us what you want." The dispatcher replied.
"Control, I need a 10-31 at my location at the White Pass train station. I have arrested a suspect for carrying a concealed weapon without permission."
"10-4, we're sending a unit to your location right now."
"Copy that, control, out."

An RCMP Tahoe pulled up, and a constable stepped out of the car.
"James Garland, carrying a concealed gun in public? Is this how low you've gotten since the mafia came?" The constable asked.
"True, true. I think he's never been arrested before. I'll read his rights for him." Jeremiah replied.
"What kind of gun was it?"
"Handgun. Looks like a Beretta 70 with one full clip of ammunition in it."
"Beretta? Did he buy it off the Italian police?"
"I think there's a gun shop near the Best Western, maybe that's where he got it from."
"Alright, I'll put him in the car, and I'll hand in the gun. Get it? Hand gun?"
"No."

James was put into the back of the Tahoe, and complained about and to himself. The constable radioed dispatch that the suspect was in the car, and was almost ready to go. But first, Jeremiah read out James' rights.
"I am arresting you for unauthorized concealed carry. It is my duty to inform you that you have the right to retain and instruct counsel without delay. You may call any lawyer you want. There is a 24-hour telephone service available which provides a legal aid duty lawyer who can give you legal advice in private. This advice is given without charge and the lawyer can explain the legal aid plan to you. If you wish to contact a legal aid duty lawyer, I can provide you with a telephone number. Do you understand? Do you want to call a lawyer? You are not obliged to say anything, but anything you do say may be given in evidence."
"I demand a lawyer, Jeremiah."
"Well he'll find out that you had not contacted the firearms people about carrying a gun in public, so the case will be dismissed quickly."
"Lawyers don't work that way... oh fine. Send me on my way."
"Fine by you then. Okay, let's get this transport moving!"

The Tahoe drove back to the police station after Jeremiah closed the door, and Jeremiah galloped there to get out of uniform. Once he got there, he saw the Tahoe pull into the police station, and saw James getting transferred into the station. The front desk officer pointed the constable to the jail cells, and from there, all was history for a few minutes. This was not going to look good on his CV.

"I'm going off duty. I was in Steed for the whole day." Jeremiah told the front desk officer when he got in. He got into the locker room, and checked his gun for any dirt. Unfortunately, there was, which meant that he had to take it home and clean it. He put the gun in a bag, told the front desk officer he had to clean it, then changed his clothes back to casual clothing. After putting on a shirt, Jeremiah was called to the jail cells to speak to James. As Jeremiah brushed off some dirt from where his mane would go as a horse on the way to the cells, he began thinking about posting bail. How was he going to handle at home alone? There was a few things he was unable to do.

As the prisoners in the cell backed away to the wall, James turned to Jeremiah, and stood up.
"You should have talked to the gun people, James, that way, you wouldn't have ended up in the clink." Jeremiah said.
"Ah, I should have. But I didn't know in the first place." James replied.
"Do you even have a gun license?"
"Yes, I got one years ago."
"Concealed carry is banned in case you didn't know."
"You just said that."
"I know. But you'll have to sleep the night. You'll be out by tomorrow."

James tried talking to the prisoners, but they seemed to be frightened beyond belief. Jeremiah managed to get his tail in someone's face on the way out, and once he got home, the night was falling, and he had much paperwork to sign. He got onto his computer, and printed off the paperwork he had to sign. But before he started signing his paperwork, he saw James' laptop leaning on the side of the couch. He knew it was a breach of privacy, but he was a peace officer, so he had the right to do so if he needed to. He pulled himself over to the couch, and instantly cracked his password - 'JEREMIAH'.

The laptop loaded onto the home screen, with a picture of James' family, including Jeremiah c. 1994. Jeremiah back then seemed to match the height of his adoptive 'parents', and as of that time, he was reaching the end of colthood. There was a folder entitled 'PRIVATE!', which Jeremiah was tempted to look in, but his conscience battled him to not. But his conscience was shut off quickly, and Jeremiah opened the folder, and saw multiple Word, Excel, Powerpoint, etc. documents. They were mostly entitled 'Jeremiah Allis Report -YY/MM/DD', and all intrigued him dearly. The first one on the laptop was even from 2008 - when James upgraded his reports to the laptop.

The most recent one was incomplete at the time, so he ignored it. But one of the more recent ones seemed to be within the time he was in Depot, and it was the only one within that timeframe. Jeremiah decided to open that one, and oh my, it was a little sad.
'Jeremiah Allis Report - 15/2/26
Status: In RCMP Academy

He's not here. I'm probably clinically depressed or something. I'm only making this because the government said I needed to. This'll be the only one I'll make until he's home. A bottle of alcohol at my side, and I will not drink.

Suicide? It's kinda ironic, since I'm a healthcare worker. I know, Jeremiah will be back by early August, but I'm not able to cope. How is he even supposed to succeed in a police academy? He's a horse, technically, so he'll end up in a mounted unit or something. I'm scared I'll go crazy one day, and end up in a mental house.'
Jeremiah scrolled down to the bottom, which took surprisingly long, and three pages down, Jeremiah found four words: 'Please come back Jeremiah.'

Jeremiah seemed to be heavily moved by this report. For those six months, he realised, James was on the brink of suicide. He dug out a USB storage dongle, and saved the report onto it for his personal use. He searched the computer for more, opened and closed folders, then started looking at the photo folder. There was 1000+ photos in the folder, and most were of Jeremiah, sometimes with James. A few family photos were in the folder, but some of the more recent ones were of him in Depot during graduation. He even managed to get a graduation photo of Troop 10 from someone, and Jeremiah stared at the photo for a few moments, before sighing, and saying "Those were the days."

There were many photos of him, and they mostly varied. Some photos of him training, a photo of him pulling a car out of a snowy ditch last winter, some results of ice fishing and hunting, a few photos of riding, one or two of James riding Jeremiah, and some unfortunate injuries, usually grazes, cuts, bruises and a broken arm. It seemed that while Jeremiah's arm was in a cast, pretty much all of Whitehorse clamoured to get a signature on it. There was even a photo of Jeremiah with towels wrapped around him c. 2009 - he fell into an ice lake during the winter, and every single emergency unit in the area was called to help him out of the freezing water. For the next few days after that, he recovered from hypothermia.

All of the photos were saved onto the dongle, and Jeremiah shut down James' laptop, and began writing his paperwork up. He wrote under candlelight, since the power bill seemed to skyrocket in autumn, and as the time edged closer to midnight, Jeremiah fiercely signed paperwork, and when the clock hit ten-to-midnight, Jeremiah gave in, and went to sleep.
Banned
Original Poster
#10 Old 10th Feb 2016 at 10:44 PM
Default Constable Centaur - C9 - Horse On Patrol - P1
WARNING, SENSETIVE SUBJECT IN CHAPTER, HAS BEEN SPOILER TAGGED
The next morning, James was set free on bail. He was sent home by the police, and when he got in, noticed Jeremiah hadn't wrecked the place. In fact, the house seemed cleaner than normal. He checked his laptop, however, and saw a piece of Jeremiah's fingernail on the J key. He instantly consulted Jeremiah about this while he was typing up paperwork on his own laptop.
"Jeremiah, does this fingernail belong to you?" James asked, holding Jeremiah's severed fingernail.
"Ew, James, don't go around asking people that! Did jail give you that influence?" Jeremiah disgustedly replied.
"No, I found it stuck under the J key. I can tell it is yours because it is well-kept and very white. Jeremiah, did you break into my laptop?"
"N-n-no, oh f*ck it, yes. Some of the things on your laptop bring a tear to my eye. Like that status update you made while I was in Depot. And some of those photos on there, like the one you took when I pulled someone's car out, when I was rescued from the freezing lake, I have the photos and the update on my USB stick."
"Well that's lovely. But that is a breach of my privacy. And you don't happen to have a warrant for that, huh?"
"Search warrant? No, I didn't contact the force. But the stuff on there is pretty good."
"You just said that. Y'know what? I'll let you pass. This is the only time I'm letting it slide however, come back with a search warrant if you want to break into my computer."

James then went to get his toolkit, and once he did, he got to work replacing a light bulb on his Ram. One of the headlights had dimmed so badly, it practically didn't work, so it had to be replaced. In the midst of this, Jeremiah was getting ready for another day of work. He got into the shower once he took his shirt off, and once he closed the glass door, began showering. While he showered, he thought about the war, his dad, and how the humans were being put at risk because of Chevalin delaying the five tanks. Somewhere far north of Whitehorse, large swathes of territory had been taken by the SOP, and any human spotted was rounded up and sent to a prison camp.

In the captured town of Mayo, a prison camp known as 'HDC 42', which could only mean 'Human Detention Camp 42' had recently sprung up, and around 50 humans were being marched into the camp. These included entire families who made a wrong turn, lumberjacks, native peoples and even one or two RCMP constables. All were shackled up and marched at gunpoint into the prison camp. Those who tried to break free either were shot or whipped by the brutal SOP guards. Not a single word got out that Mayo had been taken over, and to the commanders, this was a stepping stone towards their target of Whitehorse.

Problems began to arise when post office workers couldn't enter the town. When some guards spotted them, they were immediately thrown out of their vans, and captured, the vans then being set on fire. This was soon used for all cars in the town - they were all set on fire in front of the camp as a reminder that escape was futile. Soon, they were clothed and put into their cells, which contained a thin mattress, and that was it. Beatings were quickly handed out when children tried to reunite with their parents desperately, and already, one was shot dead for trying to climb the fence once they were let out.

The two RCMP constables, known as Harrison Celestile, and Aaron Smith, were contemplating the camp. As a once-figure of authority, the guards seemed to be a little more lenient on the two, but still, rules applied.
"I don't think we'll be out there ever again." Harrison said to Aaron, who was wiping his shoulders clear of dirt.
"No, I bet the RCMP is desperately looking for us. Our car has been set alight, so we can only walk if we do manage to escape. But even then, there is the fence, and the mines." Aaron replied. The two then heard a set of explosions.
"That must be the Bedrock and Gold and Galena going up."
"Yep, I bet they want to build something there."
"Another work camp?"
"No, maybe some mines."
"Ever heard of The Hunger Games?"
"I've never read it."
"This whole thing bears lots of similarities with Panem in the book."
"Hey you two, keep moving, you are acting suspicious." An SOP guard on a watchtower ordered. The two former constables then kept on moving.

The whole Silver Trail now appeared to be in the hands of the SOP. But strict orders were given out not to advance onto the highway until Whitehorse had been reached. Already, a battle had been fought, and the destroyed CTA trench showed. A mass grave had been built near the lake, and CTA and human corpses were thrown in from that day on.

Meanwhile, Jeremiah was drying himself off when the commander gave him a call.
"Allis here."
"Hey Jeremiah, I think two of our officers have gone missing." The commander said.
"What happened now?" Jeremiah asked.
"I don't know. Last known location was up in Mayo, then their car seemed to disappear."
"Mayo is a long way away, and I've only just woke up a few minutes ago."
"Alright, we'll send search and rescue up there to see where they are.

The helicopter was deployed, but when it flew over Mayo, it was never heard of again. The SOP had shot it down. A few minutes later, the operation was declared cancelled. While all this happened, Jeremiah was on his way to work. When he got into the RCMP detachment, he signed on, and went into the locker room.
"Hey Jeremiah, you haven't heard about what they were doing up far north?" A constable taking his shirt off asked.
"I was there. I was the one who suggested the treaty. And I was the one who found the place." Jeremiah replied.
"I heard you was rode by the Prime Minister."
"True. I didn't send him back, because he offended the Quebecois people."
"Good call, Jeremiah. You're Green, no?"
"Yes."
"Good on you."

Jeremiah was putting on his Sam Browne when the commander interrupted everyone and talked about some bad news.
"Bad news everyone. We have lost contact with Constable Celestile and Smith. A rescue helicopter appears to have also lost contact, so we have listed them as M.I.A, as the territory is under wartime conditions in that area." The commander said. The mood in the locker room quickly turned glum. Some close friends of the two captured constables decided not to go on duty, and left work early. While he felt a little angry at the SOP for the constables' obvious capture, Jeremiah was quite the stoic in the situation. He soon left to go on patrol on his own.

He was told to stay in Whitehorse until further notice, unless he was in pursuit or any other reason. So he hung around Hamilton Boulevard, and watched the residential traffic. He then walked into the residential area, and witnessed a fight break out in front of him. Two men had been arguing in the street over a woman, and the argument quickly got out of control, with the man in a blue shirt throwing the first punch. The man next to him in a 'wife-beater' threw the next punch, and soon, fists were flying, genial areas were being kicked, and Jeremiah became concerned one of the two would be killed.

He galloped over to the fight, and deployed his ASP baton in an attempt to break up the fight by making a small barrier. This, unsurprisingly, didn't work, and the 'wife-beater' man threw Jeremiah's baton to the ground. Jeremiah picked up his baton, and once the blue shirt came too close, he started attacking blue shirt. Once blue shirt was suppressed, Jeremiah handcuffed blue shirt, and got to work suppressing 'wife-beater'. Surprisingly, Jeremiah seemed to be overpowered by 'wife-beater'. His ASP baton was quickly thrown out of his reach, and Jeremiah resorted to hand-to-hand combat, using skills he learned in Depot in his defence.

Both men took blows to their torsos. The 'wife beater' took a lot of damage to the upper torso - the only place Jeremiah's fists could reach easily below the head area - and Jeremiah took much damage to the lower breast area - a few blows landing 'just below the belt'. Suddenly, when Jeremiah had a lapse of energy, the 'wife-beater' jumped onto Jeremiah, and barely clung on while Jeremiah thrashed around in an attempt to throw him off. Eventually, Jeremiah reared up, making the 'wife-beater' fall onto the concrete, and Jeremiah quickly handcuffed him, kicking him in the leg in one last attempt to show him that resistance was futile.

An ambulance was rushed to pick up the 'wife-beater' - the kick by Jeremiah had knocked him unconscious. Speaking of, Jeremiah himself came out with a few bruises, and blue shirt received minor injuries. Also, a police car pulled up to take in blue shirt, and once a vet confirmed that Jeremiah was still fit for work, Jeremiah was on his way. He continued patrolling the residential area, and was just walking out of the residential area when the dreaded school shooting call came through.


Constable Centaur - C9 - Horse On Patrol - P2
A lot of paperwork later, Jeremiah ended his shift like any other day. Pushing past reporters, he galloped back home. But he stopped along the way, causing a traffic accident while having a sad thought. He was never going to have a baby in this part of the world. Unless he found a centaur mate, he might be the last member of the Allis family down the family tree. He considered seeing his parents about this, but he told himself that he should actually stay in Whitehorse for at least a week without crossing the treeline. After he made himself think better thoughts, he soon got back to galloping, and then got to his house, where James was holding yet another gun. But this time, he had the licenses to do so.
"The mafia came again. They had shotguns, and when word got out that a shooting was occurring, they just ran off. Now I'm scared stiff." James said.
"Damn it, Fraser said I'd have protection!" Jeremiah exclaimed.
"Well since you were not there, they just walked off, and went back."
"Self defence classes then?"
"I guess I should take some."
After the brief conversation, the two both got into the house, and watched the TV. Outside the house a few minutes later, a 90s Taurus pulled up, and a woman got out of the car. She got a large package out of the trunk, and knocked on the door. Jeremiah got up, and answered the door.
"Hi, I just moved into your old house, and noticed that you've left something behind. The delivery men didn't want to move it because it was an antique, or so they call it, and I reckoned it belongs to you. It's pretty heavy, so watch yourself." The forty-something woman said.
"Why thanks, I think I know what it is." Jeremiah replied, before shouting "James! This woman has found something from our childhood, I think!" He took the package from the woman, and as she walked back to her Taurus, James came running over to the kitchen table, where Jeremiah put the package.

"So what is in it?" James asked, sitting down on a chair.
"Oh you'll see. By the shape of it, it looks like a..." Jeremiah replied, before cutting himself off. He got out a pair of scissors, and cut away the bad taping that the woman had done, and the package revealed itself to be a slightly-battered NES. Jeremiah and James were struck silent and in awe. This was the NES James owned in the late eighties.
"It's an NES." James finally said.
"Not just any NES. THE NES." Jeremiah replied.
"So many memories of this thing, right?"
"Many. Oh, it came with games and controllers."

This NES that Jeremiah was given was the one James played with in the eighties. When Jeremiah came into the family, it seemed right for him to be introduced to it when he became four a few months after he was found. The first ever game Jeremiah played was on the NES, and it was Super Mario Bros. He gained a love for the game, and sometimes, Jeremiah went to bed at midnight after playing the game for hours. While it was repetitive, it had replay value, and soon, Jeremiah progressed to bigger, harder, and better games, eventually playing on co-op games for the first time with James, and rarely, his mom and/or dad.

When 1995 came around, Jeremiah was nearly ten, and James was a year to adolescence. Since they noticed that Jeremiah was making headlines in Japan, Sony decided to give Jeremiah's family a PlayStation 1, bundled with many games. This kept on with the original Xbox, and when the PlayStation 3 came out, Jeremiah was a grown man, and decided he had more priorities, and called Sony to say that he wanted to no longer accept consoles. They did just that, and the PS3 order was cancelled. Now that Jeremiah had found the NES, he decided he'd relive his first years in the human world.
"Does it work?" James asked.
"She did not say. But we might as well try. There's a Salvation Army nearby to get a donor, or we can just blow the cartridge if it's broken." Jeremiah replied.
"But we might as well keep a sense of originality."
"Hey, that Salvation Army could have some games."
"Jeremiah, it's a charity shop. Not a thrift store, or so I think."
"Do you even know what you are saying?"
"No, and I guess..."
"I think I do."

After much fumbling with wires, Jeremiah plugged the NES into an old television, and turned it on. There was no fancy startup, but at least it worked. A smile appeared on Jeremiah's face as he began reliving his childhood, and after he put in a copy of Soccer, he played the game for an hour, interchanging between teams and letting James have a few goes. Two hours later, Jeremiah and James decided that they had enough, and James put the TV, NES and respective games away. James then got out his laptop, and started writing up his report.

Jeremiah decided to go out, and take a walk along the river. While he walked along the Yukon River, he thought about the war, and The Coalition's possible bounty on him. There seemed to be a presence in Whitehorse, but Jeremiah couldn't see any visible signs of The Coalition in Whitehorse. Jeremiah suddenly had a bright idea. Maybe he could lure The Coalition into getting killed by the SOP in the battlefield, but he quickly reconsidered, saying to himself that it was too cruel, even by his standards.

A family was walking along the river in the opposite direction of Jeremiah, and their young boy ran away from his mother's grasp, and crashed into Jeremiah's front right leg. The boy fell onto the floor, and began crying. Jeremiah tried comforting the boy, but he cried his heart out.
"Ugh, I tell him day in, day out to hold my hand, and every time, he runs off, and nearly gets himself hurt. Glad you're here to stop him." The mother said.
"I'm just out on a walk. Is he okay? He banged his head hard on the concrete." Jeremiah replied.
"Ah, he'll be alright. Give 'im to me."

Jeremiah helped the boy off the floor, and handed him over to his mother. The mother suddenly turned the boy around, and spanked him for what he had done. Instantly, Jeremiah saw this as unlawful corporal punishment. The child seemed fearful, and once he saw that the boy was receiving too much, Jeremiah grabbed the boy out of the mother's hands, and dragged him away.
"WHAT THE F*CK ARE YOU DOING?!" The mother yelled.
"The amount of punishment he was receiving was too much! Section 43 of the Criminal Code prevents this, so that is an illegal offence! I'm handing him over to child services, and you'll be arrested!" Jeremiah replied, then getting out his phone to contact child services. After that, he contacted the RCMP to take the abusive woman away, and at almost the same time, the RCMP cruiser and the child services minivan pulled up to take away the people they were ordered to take. Jeremiah questioned the father, who said that the mother was too abusive to the son, and told him to go to the police station for interrogation.

After a ten-minute talk with the police and social services, Jeremiah continued his walk, and soon, it began to rain. Jeremiah soon finished the walk along the river early, and decided to go to a store to buy himself a new jacket. He walked into a store, and came out wearing a denim jacket. He was about to go home, when a librarian from the Whitehorse Public Library flagged him down, and told him about a book they just got all the way from Greece, which was then translated into modern English, and much more modernization.
"Hey! Come over here! There's a book that you may be interested in!" The librarian yelled, who was across the road.
"This isn't a website! I'm not going to..." Jeremiah began.
"What if I told you it was about Ancient Greece?"

Jeremiah seemed to blitz into the library. He had a knack for Greek mythology, since it was where the Centaur was first created via literature, but unbeknownst to many, some stories about Centaurs were true. But people like Chiron and the like were yet to be discovered, so it was an almost-true retelling of history.
"So what is this book called?" Jeremiah asked after he had got his energy back.
"It's a collection of Centaur stories. You'd like it; I thought when it came into the depository box." The librarian replied, before jumping behind the desk, and getting out a large book. He was allowed to keep it for two months before it returns to the library. He walked out of the library with the book in a bag.
The next day, Jeremiah went to the detachment to get his uniform on, only to learn he had to get to his monthly general health check-up. He quickly galloped back home, and told James to go to the Whitehorse General Hospital. He got into the horsebox, and sat down as the Ram trundled along the wet streets. He read a newspaper along the way, and once he got out, Jeremiah and James walked to Jeremiah's nurse practitioner/vet.

"Jeremiah Allis to his practioner's room please." The PA said.
"Well James, let's see what we've got in store this month." Jeremiah said as James got out of his seat.
"You do know I contribute to this every month, right?" James asked.
"Yes, I do. So what am I doing wrong this month?"
"I think this time it'll be concerning your mobility."

"Ah, Jeremiah, nice to see you've made it for the first time in six months." The nurse practitioner said when Jeremiah and James came into her office.
"Times have changed, doc. I'm a fully-fledged Mountie, and I've found my parents." Jeremiah replied.
"Please, sit there." She pointed to a pile of hay. Understandably, Jeremiah was not very pleased.
"Really? I don't get tax cuts and government grants to be treated like a horse."
"No, I don't mean it in that way. We'll discuss this in a minute."

After taking off his tunic and sprawling out on the hay, Jeremiah was told the problem.
"According to studies we have read, we realised you need to sleep on hay." The nurse practitioner said.
"What?!" Jeremiah replied, alarmed.
"We have concluded that sleeping on a normal floor is not very healthy for your four legs. Since you cannot sleep standing up, we are trying our hardest to prevent a blood deficiency in each leg, and we think that sleeping on hay is a more healthier option."
"Listen, I only slept on the floor because a few decades ago, my parents ran out of hay, and I found out that I slept better on the floor."
"But we have studied various files James and some various others have made, and we're concerned sleeping on the floor is..."
"I can't change my habit. I've slept on the floor for twenty-five years or so, and I probably won't be able to sleep on hay."
"It's something called 'getting used to it', Jeremiah." James said.
"James, this is not the time." Jeremiah, annoyed, said. After a few seconds of silence, Jeremiah then said, "Well maybe I'll try it. If I do manage to sleep on it, I'll change over to hay from then on. But that would mean much more cleaning."
"Well you can poop in it." The nurse-practitioner said.
"There's a plus. But it'll stink up the house. I don't want to sleep outside."
"It's an okay sacrifice. Just open the windows, and you're good."
"Oh."

After nearly an hour, Jeremiah was brushed and dropped off at the RCMP detachment. He stood up in the horsebox, not wanting to ruin the brushing work James had done. After around thirty-or-so years of experience, James knew how to brush Jeremiah in a way that his coat looked flat from a distance. Being a Hanoverian, he needed to fit within the RCMP equestrian guidelines, which meant he needed to be neat and tidy. He took off his Stetson as he got into the station, and got his assignment - within Whitehorse again.

He got out, and decided to go on beat instead of patrolling the roads. He took the footpaths, and walked down, watching for any infractions by civilians. People who walked by took photos, filmed videos, and generally were excited or surprised to see Jeremiah. However, the city seemed to be less busy than usual. As more artillery barrages hit the area around Whitehorse, some people decided to flee south. Abandoned houses and boarded-up businesses showed this, and someone had even placed sandbags in front of their house.

An RCMP Tahoe pulled up beside Jeremiah at a red light as he was crossing the road. The constable driving made his window go down, and talked to Jeremiah.
"Hey Jeremiah! You on beat?" The constable asked.
"I am. I just came back from hospital for my monthly checkup, and they said I need to sleep on hay more." Jeremiah replied, before he crossed the street. Once the light turned green, the Tahoe pulled up beside Jeremiah, and slowly crept along the road as Jeremiah walked down the footpath.
"Sleeping on hay? I thought you had a house." The constable said.
"I do. I just sleep on the floor in the front room." Jeremiah replied.
"Oh. I heard somewhere that that's bad for horses."
"Well I'm half-horse, so I didn't see any problem. But I outlived the average horse, and they think because of twenty-five or something years of sleeping on the floor, I might have some kind of blood deficiency down in my legs."
"Yeah, so I heard. I think hay would be a good option, but I'd think you'd prefer sleeping on the floor."
"Been doing it for years on end, which would mean that it'd be hard to adjust."
"Wanna grab some Tim Hortons?"
"No, I'm fine. Maybe around an hour or something. You should get back on patrol. You're backing up traffic."

It was true. The traffic snarled during the walk-and-talk, which left a few angry drivers honking their horns. The Tahoe picked up speed, and turned a corner, and Jeremiah continued his beat. He walked along the footpath, and overheard an argument in an alleyway.
"YOU'RE NOT TAKING THE GOD DAMN CAR!" A woman yelled.
"YES I WILL! I'M FLEEING THE CITY BECAUSE ALL I'M GOING TO BE IS BLOWN UP, STACEY!" A man yelled back.
Jeremiah walked into the alleyway, tipped his Stetson to the two, and said, "Morning, I see you're in an argument. I think you should take the car, because I know for sure that there will be much more explosions in the next few weeks."
"How do you know this, officer?" The woman named Stacey asked.
"I was a witness to an explosion a few days ago. And because I know more are coming, you should get packing up. Together."
"Stacey, I agree. If our house is going to go up in flames, we should move out." The man said.

That night, the two moved to Fort St John, BC. Like many, they were fleeing Whitehorse since word got out that the SOP were targeting all humans of the Yukon. What they didn't know was that they wanted to go all the way down to the southernmost point of Chile. In fact, they even wanted islands like Cuba and the Falkland Islands (Las Malvinas for the Argentinians) in their control. But without access to boats or planes yet, they just wanted the mainland continents. While Jeremiah was getting out of the alley, a Canadian government Chevrolet van pulled up on the roadside, and the driver got out with some poster glue and a mop thing. He opened the back of the van, and got out many posters. Propaganda posters.
"What's with the posters? Elections?" Jeremiah asked.
"No, the Conservatives won again a long time ago. What we've got here is failure to keep peace." The propaganda poster man replied.
"Specifically."
"Oh, I've got a bunch of Victory Bonds posters. Go buy 'em. The men over there'll need 'em."
"Victory bonds?!"
"Yep, the people over there need some cashflow to keep the war outta here, so we've put them back in. Never thought it'd happen again after the Second World War."

The man had around 25 Victory Bonds posters and other posters in his arms, and he set them on the floor to put them up. He got one, stuck it on the wall of a building, and proceeded to repeat what he just did. Up went one, then the other. Soon, he crossed the street to put more up. One that Jeremiah took interest in was one poster of a CTA soldier which looked very like his father. The poster showed the soldier with a rifle slung on his shoulder in the trenches, with text below saying: 'HELP OUR FELLOW TROOPS NEARBY - BUY VICTORY BONDS!'.

Soon, posters were plastered across walls of buildings, and the man with the posters came back to his van, and was about to close the doors and set off before he noticed Jeremiah looking at the poster.
"He reminds me of my father." Jeremiah said.
"I never thought your father was a centaur and served in the CTA. From what I remember, he was human, and worked in Tim Hortons." The man replied.
"No, my birthing father. He has a wife, who gave birth to me, and I lost them three years after I was born."
"Oh. Is he there now?"
"Yep. Fighting in the trenches, he is."
"I'm so sorry."
"For what?"
"I don't know. Words just slip out of my mouth. Now I need to get going to the SS Klondike to stick some posters up."

The man got back in his van, and set off to the SS Klondike. Jeremiah stared at the poster for quite some time, before getting back on patrol. He saw a sandbag delivery being accepted by a corner store, people taping up their houses, and cars with luggage packed in and on it leaving the city. One car had two bags fall off it's roof and crashing through the window of a taxi. He helped the victims at the scene until the taxi was towed away, and he fined the driver of the packed car. But there was a general sense of patriotism from those who still lived in Whitehorse. The sales of Canadian flags and other patriotic items went up drastically as people left the Yukon, the two other territories and even Alaska.

Jeremiah decided to go to Tim Hortons for the first time in a while. He didn't know if he could use the drive-thru, so he decided to try and see if he was asked to leave or be served. It was 1PM, so he could say he was on his lunch break. But he didn't really know where to sit after getting his things. He decided to just leave the question for later. Jeremiah radioed for a 10-62 (meal break), and galloped off to the northernmost Tim Hortons up 2nd Avenue.

A queue was forming on the Tim Hortons drive-thru, and once the queue had died down, Jeremiah walked onto the drive-thru, and began placing his order, but understandably, the Tim Hortons staff were confused.
"Welcome to... um, guys? We've got Jeremiah Allis in the drive-thru." The woman on the order-placing machine said in much disbelief.
"Could I at least place my order?" Jeremiah asked, slightly annoyed.
"Can we get the manager to him? I don't think he's allowed down here."
"Hey, I can't go in, you know!"

The manager came out of the staff exit, and ran over to Jeremiah, his tie and suit jacket flailing in the wind. Some staff ran after him, and some angry customers blared their horns and revved their engines.
"Sir, we understand you are an officer of the law, but I don't know if your kind is allowed down the drive-thru." The manager said.
"Isn't that racist?" Jeremiah asked.
"Actually, I don't know. But I don't know how the board's going to take this."
"Just let me through, it won't hurt. I have the right to do so, I am a peace officer with physical difficulties."
"Listen, just go ahead. Everyone back in your places, and take this guy's order!"

The staff quickly ran inside. A driver in a 2014 Dodge Dart said "Finally, this horse shmuck is gonna move."
Jeremiah instantly turned his head around and said, "You say something about me?"
"No no no, honestly, I said nuthin."

Jeremiah fined the driver for racial abuse, and after much protest from the driver, placed his order.
"Welcome to Tim Hortons, place your order." The woman said.
"I'd like a normal sized coffee, please."
"Anything else?"
"Nothing, ma'am."
"Okay, pay at the next station please."

After using his credit card to pay, Jeremiah was directed to the next station, where he got his coffee, and after staff and customers took their photos, Jeremiah walked out of the drive-thru, and into the outside area, where he drank his coffee. While he drank, a small explosion went off in the distance to remind him the war was there. And a tinted Mercedes Benz drove by to remind him The Coalition was there, too. Whitehorse was definitely in trouble.

Constable Centaur - C9 - Horse On Patrol - P3

When Jeremiah clocked off his shift, a phone was given to him.
"Jeremiah Allis, RCMP." He said in a monotone fashion.
"It's a Coalition rat. Just so you know, one of our spotters have found you at the Tim Hortons. They may be after you, so take caution." A Coalition informer told Jeremiah over the phone.
"So when do you think they'll get me?"
"Eh, I dunno. Prob'ly a few days or summin'." Jeremiah could tell he was part of an Italian-American family.
"Should I get protection?"
"Definitely." The informer then hung up.

"So where's my ERT squad?" Jeremiah asked in frustration.
"This time, they are actually here. But they aren't ERT. They're undercover, but pack a lot of firepower." A corporal replied as Jeremiah hung up his tunic.
"Undercover? Seriously?"
"Automatic rifles, Jeremiah."
"Okay, I'm game."

After Jeremiah left the detachment, four men in plaid shirts and jeans with an RCMP badge tucked away somewhere, like their body armour, walked up to Jeremiah to introduce themselves.
"I'm Constable Thierry, those three are Constables Argyle, Smyth and Ruiz. We'll be guarding you until the hit is off." Constable Thierry said. After a brief conversation, the four packed into an unmarked Taurus, and followed Jeremiah as he galloped home. They almost lost track of him, but eventually caught up, following the dust cloud. The car parked up beside the Ram, and the unmarked units stayed in the car with their guns resting on the back of the front seats.

"Finally, I see they came." James said when Jeremiah got in.
"Yep. Undercover squad, with four automatic rifles." Jeremiah replied.
"So you saw the posters go up today?"
"First-hand, yes. One even looked like my father."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"Could you please not say that?"
"Why?"
"Never mind. If you didn't hear, I went to Tim Hortons as well."
"Oh did you? On your own?"
"Deuce. Through the drive-thru, the manager had to come out and resolve the issue."
"Nice. Now I don't need to squeeze the horsebox around the corner anymore."
"So you got the hay set up yet?"
"Actually I'm waiting for the truck to arrive. We've ran out of hay, and who knows, maybe they'll ration it soon."
"Welcome back to World War 2, then?"
"Absolutely."

Mark his words, the hay tractor arrived shortly after. Jeremiah and James worked as a team to get some of it in Jeremiah's bedroom, and the rest was left outside. The hay was dumped in a corner, and was piled one quarter of the way to the roof. Jeremiah lied in it with his clothes, and said that it was surprisingly comfortable. After Jeremiah brushed himself off, he got out his laptop, and began to file some paperwork.

A few hours of paperwork into the evening later, Jeremiah seemed to become more and more anxious. The constant threat of bombing and the hit placed on him were all amassing into one lump of fear. Around about 10PM that night, Jeremiah decided to go to sleep. James did just that later after watching a rerun of 'Big Brother: Canada' season 3. Jeremiah hoped that the night would be a peaceful one.

It was not.

Around about midnight, Jeremiah was sleeping in the hay, and as usual, he was kicking at the air. He seemed to have some kind of tic which he didn't really care about, since it only happened while he was sleeping. And speaking of, he was sleeping soundly. The hay seemed to be very comforting, and it warmed him throughout the night with the amount of insulation it had.

In the distance in an SOP-captured area, an artillery cannon was fired. The artillery cannon was pointing south, and was one of the cannons that could reportedly hit Whitehorse. The round was said to be able to level one quarter of a city block, and the angle it was going seemed to report the worst news. In the city, there was little to no pedestrian or vehicular traffic, since the now regular artillery barrages hitting the treeline, some hitting outside the treeline, caused many to flee.

Suddenly, a large explosion went up from Strickland Street. The Centre de la Francophonie had been hit by the artillery round, and had been completely destroyed. A fire broke out at the scene, and moderate to major damage was caused to surrounding vehicles and cars. One car even caught fire. Jeremiah instantly woke up, and once he saw the fireball from his window, shouted "HOLY SH*T!"

James ran in, and he was definitely panicking.
"Oh my God, what blew up?!" James asked.
"I think the French place blew up. I want you to stay here. DO NOT go out, it's too dangerous. There could be more. Now get out, I need to get ready." Jeremiah replied. James ran back in his bedroom, and barricaded the door. After Jeremiah got a shirt on, he almost smashed open the door and responded to the bomb site. As he responded, fire trucks, ambulances and RCMP cruisers passed by him, them too responding to the scene. Jeremiah was the only one who definitely knew from the start that it was artillery, and not a planted bomb.

Jeremiah halted once he was at the scene. He was weary with exhaustion, but once his eyes adjusted to the raging fire, he soon lost the exhaustion. A fire truck pulled up beside him, and the firefighters got out, hooked up their hoses, and started battling the blaze. A Corporal ran to Jeremiah, caked in black ash from the fire.
"Jeremiah, you should know what happened here." He said, wiping his forehead with a wet handkerchief.
"They bombed us. I knew it'd happen someday. Any injuries yet?" Jeremiah replied, looking around at the damaged storefronts.
"Well someone just ran out of the building aflame, so we have an injury."
"Oh that must be horrible. What should the city do? In fact, what should the country do?"
"I think they'll declare war for sure now. Invest in bomb shelters, get some civil defence sirens going, start evacuating the northern territories and Alaska, yeah, this is just personal now."

An ambulance came to pick up the 'burning man', who thankfully, had been put out. He was a francophone, and didn't understand what most of the people were saying. He was loaded onto an ambulance, and was rushed to hospital. Unfortunately, the francophone died in the ambulance. But while the fire was being put out, Jeremiah saw a fragment of an artillery round gleam in the light of the fire. And it was a different shade of shiny grey. Once the fire was out, Jeremiah pulled out the fragment, and handed it over to the detectives at the scene. It had the same SOP markings, but the number was '00325', which meant it was a new type of round.
"It's double-oh-three-two-five. That could only mean one thing." Jeremiah said, as he handed the bomb fragment over to a detective.
"New type of bomb?" The detective asked.
"Must be."
BBC, CBC, CNN, FOX, RT, and even Russian news networks instantly reported the bombing as breaking news. Pretty much all major news networks in North America reported the bombing, because their continent was at threat. Any working Civil Defence sirens in the Whitehorse area were ordered to be tested in the morning, the Canadian Army went on second-to-highest alert level in their Whitehorse barracks, and the United States of America lifted it's DEFCON status to 4, since President Obama knew his country was on the list, and wasn't taking any chances.

The next morning, a bulldozer was at the site of the bombing, and so were people fixing burst cables and pipes. Jeremiah had a sleepless night while he was at the scene, but after a short power nap on the street, he was energized. He galloped off to the detachment to get signed on and changed, listened to the briefing, which largely concerned the bombing of the Francophone Centre, and galloped back to the scene, now fully clothed and equipped. A police roadblock was now being strengthened, and the fire truck was about to set off, when the fire-fighters walking back to the truck heard the sound of banging wood and screams for help.

Fire-fighters and other emergency personnel, including Jeremiah, ran over to the area where someone was screaming for help under the rubble, and all worked as a team to help the trapped person out. Eventually, after much throwing of debris and digging, the trapped person was found badly injured caked in mud, dust, ash and blood.
"Can you see, hear, or feel anything?" A firefighter yelled.
"I can do all that stuff, just get me the f*ck out of this hole!" The woman who was trapped under the rubble shouted back. She was pulled out of the rubble, and carted to an ambulance. News teams quickly reported this, and statistics could now be filled out.

Meanwhile, in HDC 42, the camp guards were breaking out the champagne. They had finally hit Whitehorse with their artillery, and knew they could break the slow speed once and for all. The chief of the camp was looking out over the town of Mayo with a grin on his face. He couldn't wait to accept more human prisoners when Whitehorse was in the hands of the Pegasus. Down below in the cells, Constables Smith and Celestile were talking to each other through the bars, since their cells were facing each other.
"I hear they hit Whitehorse with cannons." Constable Celestile said as a party was thrown around a kilometre away.
"Really?" Constable Smith replied, brushing his pants of dirt.
"Did you hear the explosion last night? It hit the city, but I don't think it hit the station."
"How many explosions were there?"
"Just one."
"Oh. I guess Jeremiah was there."
"He would've. And I guess Fraser and Harper would be over there soon."

The cell block was not called to canteen that morning. The guards were too busy partying, and they got an angry phone call from the director of HDCs across the SOP territory, who said he needed the humans alive so they can work as slaves. The party quickly stopped, and business returned to usual. Outside the camp in Mayo, the SOP were beginning to move in centaurs, who seemed not very happy about moving into a former human town. A small protest broke out in the SOP capital, and a centaur managed to flee the grasp of the SOP, and galloped for hours to Whitehorse to inform the RCMP about the status of Mayo.

Meanwhile, Jeremiah was escorting the ambulance to the hospital, which was speeding down the road to the hospital, desperate to get there before the woman fell unconscious due to her wounds. He blocked traffic, checked intersections and ran red lights, even though he legally could, to get the ambulance to the hospital. Once the ambulance pulled up at the emergency ward, Jeremiah came back to the detachment, since the department concluded there was no use for him anymore. All he needed to do for around a few hours was hang around in the squadroom and do little to no paperwork.

An hour into the squadroom session, the receptionist came through the door, and shouted, "WE HAVE SOMEONE WHO CAN TELL US ABOUT MAYO!"
"Who?" Someone yelled.
"He's basically another Jeremiah!"

Everyone flocked into reception, where the runaway centaur was waiting for someone to see him. In official papers, he was regarded as a Frisian centaur, and was eligible for military service, but refused, faking a lameness. Jeremiah pushed through the crowd out of the squadroom, and confronted the runaway.
"Constable Jeremiah Allis, RCMP, I am at your service throughout your stay. And you are, sir?" Jeremiah said, putting a pen he was still carrying on the reception desk.
"Steve Darwin. I was from a town west of Mayo, but I got relocated to there. I can tell you all about what has happened there, and why nothing has come from there." Steve replied.
"Darwin, eh? Pretty Aussie for a centaur, don't you think?" A constable next to him asked Jeremiah.
"Do shut up." Jeremiah ordered.

Darwin was brought into the interrogation room, and after shoving the chairs aside, and everyone who was still in the station assembling in the spectator area, Jeremiah began to get information out of Darwin.
"So Steve, give us the run-down about what has happened to Mayo." Jeremiah said, the two lying on the concrete floor.
"Basically, Mayo has been captured by the Soldiers of Pegasus." Darwin replied. Utter disbelief rang around the station.
"How can you confirm that to us? We must pass this on towards Parliament Hill."
"I was told to head east of my home village, which was under their control. The soldier who kicked me out said that new houses needed to be filled, and that the house I lived in could be reused for the war effort. But I built that house myself, all out of wood. What use does wood have in a war?"
"Well, it could be used to build makeshift defences. But could you please go on?"
"Most of my village was told to pack up and move to Mayo. When we got there, we were stamped approval into the town, and once we got there, we saw a lot of burnt-out cars, which we concluded was because they wanted to ensure no escape was possible. And speaking of that, a prison camp was built in Mayo, and actively had humans incarcerated in there. I believe that your two officers are in there."
After a minute or so of utter shocked silence, Jeremiah said, "That's it. Parliament Hill will certainly declare war now. Don't you worry no more, the army will probably kick them out by winter, and soon, this god damn war will be over once and for all."

"Fraser is here guys, you should know why." The commander said, after Fraser called to say he was there.
"The explosion?" Jeremiah asked.
"Exactly. The Prime Minister is to release a statement in a couple of hours, which means that he's in Ottawa."
"How do we get the information?"
"I'd bring it through Fraser. He knows the Prime Minister, which means that he'll definitely tell him if he hears about Mayo."
"What do we do with Steve?"
"Keep him in the squadroom for the time being."

The door of the squadroom was opened, and Jeremiah let Darwin through first.
"You want a coffee?" Jeremiah asked when he got to his desk.
"Oh, er, I would like a cup of water please. Preferably from the river." Darwin replied.
"Straight from the river?!"
"I have built up an immunity to dirty water somehow over the years. You would be surprised."
"No, you're taking it straight from the water fountain. It's less disgusting."

After Jeremiah filled up a plastic cup of water, he gave Darwin the drink of water. Darwin drunk the cup of water while Jeremiah filed paperwork.
"So what are you doing there?" Darwin asked.
"Paperwork. I hate it." Jeremiah replied.
"You do not look stressed."
"Listen here, tail swishing or not, I'm still stressed."
"Okay, I will shut up then."
"Not permanently, Jesus."

When Fraser's SUV pulled up in the parking lot, Jeremiah was talking to Darwin, who had finished his drink.
"Anything new about the war?" Jeremiah asked as he was typing on his PC.
"Well, Pegasus is saying they are getting closer and closer to Whitehorse, and they are making Mayo propaganda for their victory over the humans."
"You know anyone who is serving?"
"Yes, I know a few soldiers. But anyone deserts, and they will be shot."
"I need to go now, I need to see someone. I think you should come along as well."
"Give me a second, I need to stand up."

Darwin got onto his hooves, then Jeremiah, and both of them walked into the commander's office, where yet again, Fraser was there, this time on disaster relief business. He had pictures of bomb fragments on the desk, and was looking at them with the commander.
"Ah, Jeremiah, welcome. Who is that person there?" Fraser asked.
"Steve Darwin. He knows a few things about Mayo." Jeremiah replied.
Fraser instantly stopped leaning over, and sprung up upon mention of Mayo. "What can he tell us?" He asked.
"He knows the fate of Mayo."

After Darwin told Fraser about what happened to Mayo, and that it may have been wiped off the map, Fraser immediately picked up the phone, and got on the line to Stephen Harper.
"Is this 24 Sussex Drive? ... It's Benton Fraser, it concerns Mayo. Can I please speak to the Prime Minister? ... Okay, I'll hold." Fraser said. He was put on hold while the phone was passed to Harper, and the phone played a tinny, muzak version of the national anthem. He strummed his fingers anxiously as the holding passed a minute, then after two minutes, Harper was on the line.
"Fraser! How you doing?" Harper exclaimed over the phone.
"No time for excitement, Stephen, it's about Mayo." Fraser replied.
"Oh, Mayo, what do you know?"
"The enemy army captured it."
After much silence, Harper replied with, "Alright, I have a statement planned, and I'm willing to incorporate that into the statement. Who bears witness to it?"
"We have another centaur who arrived in Whitehorse RCMP, claims to have ran away from the SOP. He says they took over Mayo, he was relocated, and they even set up a prisoner-of-war camp."
"That's bad. I'm going to give them 48 hours or something for them to leave, set free the prisoners, or I will declare war on them officially."
"With all due respect sir, my house, Whitehorse, Canada, the United States and all of the Americas are on the line here, and if this does not work, that's nearly 1 billion humans at risk."
"24 hours?"
"Sir, No! Just send in the army!"
"I believe that an invasion of Mayo right now, as they are quickly gaining territory in the North is going to end in an attack on Whitehorse, because our forces would be concentrated on the town. We'll send in the army once the threat of invasion of Whitehorse is high enough. But for now, the deadline for the tanks is nearing."
"I'm afraid you are putting lots of lives at risk."
"Fraser, come on now, just agree with me here, 24 hours, and we may begin to end this war once and for all."
"I believe that it is too early for now. Around about winter, when the SOP are slowed down, seems good enough."
"Okay, the army will definitely be deployed in winter. But I'm giving them 24 hours to pull out of Mayo, or I'll declare war. Is that okay with you now?"
"It is."
"Alright, please send me some written evidence before the statement is delivered, and I'll have credible evidence to declare war."
"I will, sir."
"Alright, buh-bye."

"Jeremiah, you can go, but Steve, could you please stay? I need some evidence for the Prime Minister." Fraser said when he put down the phone.
"Will do." Darwin replied.
"Thanks, sir. I wish you good luck." Jeremiah replied. Jeremiah got back into the squadroom, and called everyone to an emergency conference immediately in the briefing room. Everyone stopped working and quickly filed into the briefing room as Jeremiah prepared his emergency briefing.

Once everyone had taken their seats, Jeremiah began his briefing.
"Alright, I understand that the commander is busy and none of you want to be here, but we've all heard about Mayo. From what I have found out, Constables Smith and Celestile were last reported near Mayo. Since a prison camp was built in Mayo, and the helicopter has not returned, because it may have been shot down, I can only come to the conclusion that the two have been sent to the prison camp."
After much murmuring, and an officer being consoled, someone asked, "What can the RCMP do to get them out?"
"Unfortunately for now, nothing. But I just thought of a form of infiltration into the town."
"Would it help release the two constables?"
"Unfortunately, no. They cannot be let out unless the action is greenlit."
"So is there going to be some form of espionage?"
"Exactly. I may consider stealing the clothes of a soldier, and sneaking into the camp. Although I have not seen a soldier yet, so the idea will be shelved. But for now, if war is declared, I want you guys to set up a civil defence division, initiate blackouts or whatever to slow down the advance. All I know is that the shellings will increase more and more, to the point where it becomes regular."
"So what should we do in the event of the invasion?"
"Any of you know why the Russians won WW2? Because they defended their country to the last man. Order 227 and 270 and all that, which won them the war, because not a single person fled the battle alive. We want something similar, but less lethal. If Whitehorse is invaded, any deserters would probably get a jail sentence."
"And where would you be?"
"Probably fighting alongside the CTA. To sum this meeting, Mayo is theirs, our constables are in the hands of them, and I'm planning on espionage. You can all get back to work now."

After everyone had gone back to the squadroom, Jeremiah checked on Darwin and Fraser, who were concluding the exchange of evidence. Fraser urgently faxed the documents to Parliament Hill, and these documents were given to Stephen Harper. That night, at 7PM PDT, the world was watching Stephen Harper's statement. People in New York flooded Times Square, and people listened on the radio. Londoners turned over to BBC news, LA switched on CBC, and Moscow got a translated statement. Almost everyone in Canada and Alaska who had a TV with news channels tuned in to watch Stephen Harper order the SOP to pull out of Mayo, or face a declaration of war.
"My fellow Canadians, Americans, Mexicans, everyone in all continents in the Americas, we face a great threat in the northern territories of Canada. A centaur threat, not like our Jeremiah Allis or the Centaur Territorial Army defending us from the threat, is actively taking swathes of land. They call themselves the Soldiers Of Pegasus, and are intending to rid the Americas of humans, and fill the gap with centaurs and lots of horses. Now you may be thinking, why have we ignored this threat for around 300 years? This is because people treat the centaur threat as nonsense, and any expeditions to find this threat have ended with trauma, serious injury, or death. Last night, a bomb from the Soldiers of Pegasus hit Whitehorse, destroying the Francophone Centre in the city. And today, I learned from Commissioner Benton Fraser that Mayo has been taken over, and scores of humans have been taken as prisoners of war."

After letting the message sink in for a moment, which seemed to sink in to everyone in Whitehorse who was watching it, including Jeremiah and James, Harper continued his statement.
"From what Fraser has faxed me, I have a number of statistics from a centaur who has fled Mayo, and has informed the Royal Canadian Mounted Police in Whitehorse about the town, and it is said that entire families, workers and two RCMP constables have been taken prisoner. Numerous wrecks of cars are placed in front of the camp to give the prisoners the warning that escape was not possible, and all forms of contact to and fro Mayo have been cut off. The helicopter that was sent there was reportedly shot down, and has been cannibalized as defence barriers to prevent humans from entering the town. To the leader of the Soldiers of Pegasus, I am giving you a sincere warning. If you do not pull out your forces and release all prisoners in Mayo by 3PM Pacific Daylight Time, I will sign the Declaration of War. We stand with the Centaur Territorial Army on our attempt to keep war out of human reach, but if you do not pull out of Mayo, we will link arms and fight together."

The statement ended, and the CBC camera returned to visibly shocked and speechless newscasters. Jeremiah was getting closer and closer to leaving Whitehorse and signing up to the CTA, and James called someone to deliver sandbags to the house.
"James, we need an air raid shelter. Right now." Jeremiah said.

All Jeremiah could hear that moment was Harper saying, "We will link arms and fight together."
Banned
Original Poster
#11 Old 10th Feb 2016 at 10:46 PM
Default Constable Centaur - C10 - Civil War - P1
The next morning, Jeremiah woke up to the sound of trucks, drilling and swearing.
"WHERE THE F*CK ARE THE WIRES!?" A man yelled. Jeremiah had decided to stay sleeping in the front room just in case something exploded again, and once he got up, he opened the door, and saw an electric company installing a civil defence siren on the hill. Immediately, Jeremiah noted that it was the loudest siren in history. As quoted by the mayor of Whitehorse, he telephoned the POTUS, and said "Give us the loudest damn siren you got."

And loudest damn siren they did get. Someone from Rockford, Illinois donated his Chrysler-Bell Victory Siren, and after a test, it was sent to Whitehorse to be repainted and installed on a plinth on a hill. Next to it, a soundproofed bunker was installed for the crew to sleep in, and snap into action upon sight of artillery cannons. Five men were to work up there at a time, and they would need hearing aids after their job is done for the last time. That is, if they aren't killed.

"What's all the commotion?" Jeremiah yelled when he got outside and consulted the workers.
"We're installing a civil defence siren up there, Whitehorse didn't have one, so we went full-blown overkill and got the loudest one the United States had. All the way from Illinois, this one!" The construction worker replied, feeling very smug.
"HEY, JOEY, GEDDOVERHERE! WE NEED SOME F*CKING WIRES!" The same man who asked for the wires yelled.
"What happens if there is no war?" Jeremiah asked.
"There's still the risk of bombing. And if they do stop bombing us, we'll keep it as a museum piece for all to see." The man named Joey replied.
"JOEY, FOR F*CKS SAKE! THE WIRES!" The man yelled again.
"I need to go, the cables need installing." Joey said, before yelling back at the man.

James woke up a few minutes later, and set his alarm clock for 3PM. When he got in the front room, he immediately put on the news, and took out his laptop, going on Word to file a report on the almost-war being so close to home. Jeremiah lounged on the floor, and sat there, watching the news also.
"The Prime Minister is expected to declare war and establish a war cabinet if the so-called SOP do not pull out of Mayo before 3PM Pacific Daylight Time. Scores of humans have been reportedly captured, as noted via the RCMP commissioner's information." The newscaster reported on top of the hour - 6AM.
"We stand with the Centaur Territorial Army on our attempt to keep the war out of human reach, but if you do not pull out of Mayo, we will link arms and fight together." Stephen Harper said on the TV, as quoted.
"This very quote by the Prime Minister is to go down in history as a speech on the same levels as Neville Chamberlain's, in the deadline period of Britain's involvement in World War Two. Parliament is on edge, as the countdown has just passed 13 hours to go. For the whole night, people have been camped outside of Parliament Hill, watching the clock strike every hour." A CBC soon-to-be one of the many war correspondents reported. The news then showed videos of people camped outside of Parliament Hill, watching the clock go by.
"I was going to go back last night, but I said that I wanted to extend my vacation. I'm all the way from Seattle, and I know that we're doomed if they get Vancouver. That is, if war is declared." A tourist from Seattle who stayed behind to watch the clock said in an interview around about 4AM that morning.
"I'm a loyal Canadian, and I don't want this war to happen. I'm constantly on my phone, checking the news to see if the SOPs have pulled out of Mayo. Truth is, I don't think it'll happen." A patriotic Canadian said in another interview, and you could tell he was up all night by his facial expressions.
"As the morning rises over Ottawa, the Ottawa Police Service are placing riot guards in front of Parliament Hill, as tensions could flare if war is declared. Many people are expected to fill the streets, watching clocks, and schools and workplaces will have large clocks placed in almost every major room to remind everyone of the deadline. Overnight, sales of weaponry, survival kits and medical supplies have skyrocketed, and grocery stores across Canada closed doors early last night due to a high amount of panic-shopping."
The TV then shifted to a live broadcast in front of Parliament Hill, where early-risers have clamoured to Parliament Hill, and were watching the clock tower.
"I'm live from Parliament Hill, where you can see the countless number of media personnel and people on the grass of the hill, and everyone's attention is now on the Centre Block's clock tower. More and more people are coming over to the hill, and some are lining the streets to watch the clock chime on and on. The Prime Minister has attended an emergency conference last night, and numerous acts of parliament are being readied for the almost-certain failure to heed the warning. Security is tight, as of now, just like the grip the Soldiers of Pegasus have on Mayo, which almost seems that they will not retreat back." A live newscaster reported in front of the steps of the Centre Block.
"Did you get any information from the government about the deadline?" A news anchor in the studio asked.
"No, but they did say that the government was prepared to build an emergency bunker in the event that war is declared."

The report dominated the headlines for most of the hour. People all across the Americas were watching their clocks now, waiting for any notice that the SOP had pulled out of Mayo. Jeremiah left for work at 7AM after having breakfast, and James left to go to the store at 7:15AM. Jeremiah clocked in, got changed, and received the briefing.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is a dark time. Canada looks as if it may be about to go to war against the people who hit us with bombs and took over Mayo. A civil defence siren has been installed early this morning, and it will sound if war is declared. It is very loud, so I would like everyone to stay away from it when it goes off. That time, I do not know, but from what I have heard, it can turn fog to rain. If the siren does sound, I want everyone to get in some form of shelter as soon as possible, just like those who still remember did in the Cold War. The siren will sound if artillery is fired upon us in the near future, which was installed to prevent casualties as much as possible." The commander said.
"How is Jeremiah supposed to take cover, sir?" A constable asked.
"He can find his own way."
"Hey!" Jeremiah exclaimed.
"You'll learn along the way. The airport may see a spike in citizens fleeing the continent, so I would like around six extra constables on stand-by to assist security if need be. You may also be helping citizens evacuate the city, and those who do not evacuate will require help in preparing themselves."

After everyone was assigned where to go, Jeremiah went on patrol at 7:45AM. People were crowding the streets, some with luggage in hand. Cars and trucks with luggage strapped on them left the city - the drivers decided that war was certain. A security checkpoint was set up at the borders of the city, and Jeremiah was to be assigned to it. In the meantime, Jeremiah was buying himself a newspaper from a newsagent's.
"So did you hear about war?" The North Korean-born migrant asked.
"Yes, this war that is going to happen. Say, aren't you a North Korean?" Jeremiah replied.
"I am. I fled from there to South, then I got a plane here."
"Oh, refugee? I think it'll happen again at this rate."
"Invasion?"
"I don't know. Can I have my newspaper, please?"
"Oh yeah, ninety-nine please."

Jeremiah handed over a dollar coin, and got one cent in return. His newspaper was handed over, and the headline read 'PM WARNS SOP TO PULL OUT BEFORE 3PM PDT - CONTINENT ON EDGE', and below it, the caption read 'Could the Prime Minister declare a civil war?'
"Civil war?" Jeremiah asked.
"That's what news is calling it." The Nork replied.

Jeremiah nearly hit his head while walking out of the newsagent's, and put the newspaper in a saddlebag. A full saddle had been attached to Jeremiah, since an officer was going to watch traffic on Jeremiah. They were to make sure refugees who fled Whitehorse got out safely. Once Jeremiah got to the security checkpoint, an officer changed his shoes and mounted Jeremiah, who stood next to a police car while reading the newspaper.
"Huh, a newspaper?" The constable asked.
"It is, and it seems hot off the presses." Jeremiah replied while turning the page.

Finally, the security checkpoint got some action. A family of 3 children and a man's Ford Econoline broke down in the middle of the road, causing traffic to completely stop. Jeremiah put his newspaper down, and he and the constable helped push the Econoline off the road, and slowly, traffic started up again. The constable repaired the engine of the Econoline, and it then set off again, the rear door slightly open, but suspended by string. Many cars passed through the checkpoint, but that day, only 1,500 of the 23,276 residents of Whitehorse fled the city.

At near midday PDT, Jeremiah ended his shift at the checkpoint, and went back to patrolling in general. A large screen had been set up in the town centre which displayed the news, and a lot of people were there, watching the news, all guarded by police. Newspapers were being sold out, and so were groceries for the second time in a week. In the park Jeremiah was in, tents and gazeboes of many shapes and sizes were set up to cater to the people's needs while they watched the news. After watching the news for a few minutes, Jeremiah soon got back on patrol walking down the street, and almost instantly came upon a citizen in need.
The person had just had their phone thrown on the roof by a tearaway youth, and she couldn't get it down off the roof, because the owner did not want people on his roof, and the woman didn't want to risk injury, so Jeremiah pushed a dumpster to the general area where the phone was, and got onto the dumpster, making four indentations where his hooves were. He then lifted the woman onto his back, and she lifted herself onto the roof, and got her smashed phone.
"It was worth it, though." The woman said, after a piece of her screen shattered onto the dumpster.
"So it was. Could you watch what you're doing with that phone? I nearly got a cut in my leg." Jeremiah replied. He then lifted the woman back onto the dumpster, and she got off and walked to the nearest phone store to get a replacement, not before thanking Jeremiah.

Around about 1:30PM, most of Whitehorse was crowded around the large TV, and were camped in the park, almost like it was in Ottawa, where over 10,000 people were crowding the streets watching the clock. Jeremiah decided to join in, and watch the news along with the 3,000 or so people. He lied down on the grass, and whipped out his phone, texting James to come over to the park and join him watching the news. He came over in his Ram with horsebox, helping to block the road, and sat on Jeremiah's rear, much to his annoyance.
"You know, I can kick you right here, right now." Jeremiah warned.
"Oh, I'll move then." James replied. He moved further up Jeremiah, resting where his bladder was. The two stayed there for two and a half hours, and then, the devastating news came in, via a statement delivered live across the world on TV and the radio.
"My fellow North, Central and South Americans, at midday today, Commander Chevalin of the Centaur Territorial Army handed Commander Harrison the final note, saying that if they do not free prisoners and pull out of Mayo by 3PM today Pacific Standard Time, a state of war would exist between us.

I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently, this country is at war with the Soldiers of Pegasus." Stephen Harper said shortly after the clock struck three. Waves of disbelief, anger and terror spread through the crowd, and Jeremiah was left speechless.
"It is a horrible blow to the country, and one that sets in stone active hostilities. Whitehorse is their target, and Mayo is just a stepping stone in their advance. I am to discuss movements of the Canadian Army with Chevalin later this week, and parliament will be reshuffled subsequently in the next few days to form a war coalition.

As I said in my speech last night, we said that we'd link hands with the Centaur Territorial Army, and fight together. Starting today, we do just that. We have recived much support from countries across all continents, including those who hate us bitterly, and those who we hate bitterly." Harper took a sip of a glass of water, took a breath, and continued his speech. "All parties of the current Parliament had worked together to form plans to help sustain the nation's freedom, supply ammunition to those who need it, keep supply lines open, and ensure that the human peoples of Canada can stay alive. You may be working in munition factories, you may be working as civil defence wardens in the Territories, and you may be working alongside other centaurs. If so, we will try to sustain a normal life in the lower provinces until we can no more.

May God bless you all. This is a dark day for Canada, as we have not been involved in a civil war this recent, close and technologically advanced to Canadian citizens. May He defend the right, expel the evil that is in this world at the time. I can assure you that He will help the right prevail. Godspeed, Canada."

Jeremiah was still speechless. So were everyone else across Canada, the United States, Mexico, everyone in the Americas in both hemispheres. In Whitehorse, people had stopped their cars, some driving past the park stood outside, and people stopped what they were doing in shock. All was quiet for a minute or so. Then, utter panic.

The Bell-Victory siren began to sound, and everyone got up, and started running for shelter. Jeremiah told James to get under the Ram, while he co-ordinated with officers at the scene to get anyone and everyone in safety. He shouted, pointed, and helped people out of the park while the siren blared, and when everyone was in shelter, the siren lasted for one more minute, then stopped for a few seconds. It then sounded the all-clear, and everyone now realised that this was practice for the real deal.

James crawled out from under the Ram, his shirt covered in dirt. Jeremiah helped him up, and while he brushed his clothes off, he said, "We got any evacuation plans in the works?"
"We'll just have to wait and see. That siren is a warning that this was the end of peace. Get sandbags, a shelter, whatever, I need to be kept alive - I'm a walking source of morale." Jeremiah replied as he changed his radio frequency, as the one he was one was in panic mode.
"So leaving early?"
"Overtime. Lots of people are going to need help, and I can feel that there will be looting on the horizon."
"You wouldn't happen to have that Kevlar blanket, would you?"
"Why?"
"You might get shot. And that's a massive weak spot, Jeremiah."
"It came in a few days ago. Fits perfectly."

The commander came running to Jeremiah as he was about to start walking again, and he passed him a text-translated urgent telegram from Steed.
"It's Steed. Never through they'd send a telegram to us, but we translated, and they said they needed all the help they can get, because a riot has broken out, and their riot control squad cannot hold them off for long."
"How long do you estimate?" Jeremiah asked.
"The train takes a few hours, so I think by the time we get there, it would be utter anarchy."
"Then I need to go quick. Tell someone to help me with the Kevlar jacket and the riot armour - we need to defend my class of taxonomy."

Jeremiah almost crashed through the back door of the station as ERT squads mixed with normal RCMP were supplied with riot gear, and Jeremiah stripped himself of his uniform, and quickly began to put on his riot gear. Four officers helped him put on the Kevlar blanket, and Jeremiah soon put on his shirt, body armour, but held his helmet in his hand as the emergency briefing and deployment got underway. Jeremiah was loaded into an RCMP Mounted Unit van (the first of it's kind), and was quickly taken to the White Pass station, and alongside his partners, he boarded a carriage of a steam train, and a tactical briefing began as the train spewed steam and quickly set off to Steed.

Constable Centaur - C10 - Civil War - P2

"How many rioters did they say they have?" Jeremiah asked while he was in the briefing.
"Didn't say. So we're running blind. We'd be lucky if we get support." The commanding officer of the makeshift ERT squad replied.
"Should we be concerned? Because our shields do not match their height. We raise and lower them, we have weak spots everywhere."
"Very. We can't tape our shields, so we need to keep ourselves safe."

The steam train grinded to a halt as it reached the station, and the doors were opened when the train stopped. A feeling of anger was in the air, and everyone could tell that the blockade was close to falling. A map was shown, and everyone was told to quickly go to a main road called Frontier Road. Jeremiah galloped to assist the centaurs fighting against the rioters, and there, he saw the extent of the rioter's anarchy. Burnt-out buildings, tipped-over trash in the streets and a bonfire of propaganda posters. In the distance, he heard things being thrown at the police and things exploding, so he continued on.

Jeremiah and the RCMP officers met up at a crossroad. The group conversed, and then walked to the centaur line holding their shields. The centaur line backed off as they arrived, and the RCMP were greeted with much relief.
"Ah, you finally arrived. We are so glad you arrived at this crucial moment." The commanding officer of the centaur line said with much relief.
"Have you taken into consideration that our shields are shorter than yours?" The commanding officer of the human line asked, as he looked at the double-height metal riot shields which took clear influence from the Ukrainian riot police's shields.
"We can arrange our shields in a way that our shields go at an angle and yours are at the bottom. That way, we both get protection at the same time."

"Allis, J! Double-height riot shield on street corner for you!" Someone from the centaur line yelled. He swapped out his normal riot shield for a double-height riot shield, and he was told that the original owner of the shield was knocked out. He joined the centaur line, looking out-of-place in his Kevlar outfit, while the other centaurs were wearing buttoned up shirts and steel helmets. He lifted down his visor, and stood in formation as the human line organized itself in front of the centaur line. The humans put their shields to the ground, and Jeremiah and the other centaurs tipped their shields 130 degrees, interlocking with the human shields, and forming a large defensive line.

Thrown objects bounced off the shields, and no police injuries were caused while the line was in the formation. Arrests were made when one or two centaurs broke through the line, resulting in them thrown to the ground and handcuffed to a light pole. The speed of the arrest by the riot police impressed Jeremiah and the other RCMPs there - it took 10 seconds from breaking through, restraining and handcuffing by the centaur police force, and the suspects were quickly marched to the jail cell.

While he was gawking, Jeremiah was hit in the head by a broken bottle. He felt the thud and crack of the bottle as it smashed on his helmet, and the bottle fell to the ground less intact than it was. On that mark, the line began to move up the brick road like a bulldozer, sending the rioters galloping back. As they marched, the normal-height shield was at a level where the hooves and feet were at risk of potential injury, and they seemed to bear the brunt of the damage they took during the march. A few rioters dispersed, and over 30 were arrested as they marched up Frontier Road.

By midnight, a centaur-drawn fire truck had arrived, multitasking between hosing down fires and rioters. Extra riot control units were on their way via train and road, and once they arrived, intersections were blocked, and soon, the 'kettling' - a tactic borrowed from the British police, in which two lines of riot police block rioters from moving anywhere - commenced. Eventually, the rioters lost energy, and the lapse gave the police forces enough time to arrest nearly everyone, and let those not involved escape. A CBC helicopter in the airspace lowered altitude to a level that forced the guards at the Premier's Palace to fire at it. The helicopter soon fled, and afterwards, CBC filed a lawsuit, which was quickly dropped.

2AM, and the riot was over. Citizens who were still awake and peaceful began cleaning up and assisting the emergency services. CTA garrison troops were ordered in to keep the peace until further notice, and to some, this was the first time they had ever seen a CTA soldier.
"These men have never seen our kind of soldier before, have they not?" A CTA soldier standing beside Jeremiah as he took off his helmet asked.
"Raised in the Yukon, never seen a... AGH!" Jeremiah began before the helmet pulled his hair. Thankfully the hair was intact. "Sorry, my hair nearly came off. They are really giving your men some looks."

After everyone had finished gawking, the soldiers and police forces worked together through the early morning to keep the peace, and by sunrise, most of Frontier Road was open to foot traffic. Only a burnt-out retail store closed off one part of the street, and even still, it was a small part of the road.
"Jeremiah, we'd love to stay and chat, but we have a city on the brink of invasion. Let's get back on the train." The RCMP ERT commanding officer rudely said in the middle of a conversation between Jeremiah and a female resident.
"Sorry, I have to go now." Jeremiah said, before joining the RCMP walking back to the train station.

"We arrested 318 people last night. Good job, boys, you've made your mommas and your dads proud. We've got a number if we're needed again, so when the call comes, you all know what to do if there is another riot like this, okay?" The C/O said.
"Understood, sir." Everyone said. The train then passed through the Steed city limits, and soon, everyone was wandering around, some taking naps, some conversing. As the train steamed on, it slowed down as it got near a flat plain of land. After much braking, it stopped. Everyone crowded around the windows of the train, some leaning out from the door, and saw a full company of CTA troops crossing the track, advancing on the enemy.
"Jeremiah, is this what your father is doing?" The C/O next to Jeremiah asked.
"He's in the army, but he's not advancing, I think. He's in the trenches. He's sent a letter, but I haven't got one since I saw him last." Jeremiah replied, worried for his father.
"If he's still alive, I hope, he's probably doing us proud. We are at war now, by the way."

Some soldiers then stopped at the tracks, and went 'prone'. Everyone was ordered to get back in the train and take cover, but Jeremiah took someone's rifle, and went into the battlefield. As it turned, the soldiers were gaining ground on SOP territory around a shallow lake battered by bombing. Jeremiah shot two times, then left - he was needed back in the train or he was going to be shot dead. He quickly vacated the battlefield, handed the rifle back, and got a small amount of yelling from the constables aboard, but surprisingly, not the C/O. He seemed proud of Jeremiah for at least beginning his part of the fight, and he hoped that Jeremiah would defend Whitehorse if it were to be invaded.

An hour or so later, the train stopped back in Whitehorse. Everyone got back in their cars, and signed off duty, and decided to take the day off. A line of civilians was growing outside the RCMP detachment, and once he got in, Jeremiah could see why. The Canadian Rangers were taking an upsurge of recruits, and their recruiting station downtown had become so overcrowded that some were redirected to the RCMP Whitehorse detachment. Jeremiah had to push through the crowd to sign off, and eventually, he left the detachment after talking to potential recruits, some of which would be rejected.

James was laying sandbags on the footpath with the neighbours when Jeremiah came back.
"Hey Jeremiah! Wanna lend a hand?" James asked when Jeremiah came down Black St.
"Eh, no. I've got to take a rest. Been out all night beating people, arresting people, and preventing freaking Romania repeating itself." Jeremiah replied.
"Well where do we want Romania to repeat itself?"
"The Pegasus capital, that's where."
"Exactly. That place almost looks like Burachest."

The capital, namely Ironwolf, had a population of 6,300,000 centaurs, not counted in the official Centauria population graph... yet. It had many similarities to pre-war Berlin and Socialist Burachest, including a palace, many Pegasus symbols, and an anti-human presence. The current High Chancellor of the First Pegasus Empire, as it was called, was called Alphonse Ceaumann (editor's note: Ceaumann is a mix of Ceausescu, leader of Socialist Romania, and Mann, that part I don't know), and he was the successor of many High Chancellor's before him. His intent? Break out of the nearly 100 year-long stalemate and capture Whitehorse, then all of the Americas.

Ironwolf was located in the extreme west of Nunavut, very close to the Bluenoose Lake. A large strip of land south-west of Ironwolf was SOP territory, and these parts of the territories were captured to get supplies safely through each of the three territories they had a foothold in. Countless scores of humans were captured and/or killed, and nearly 5 million CTA troops were killed in over 300 years of fighting. Ceaumann's armies, since the beginning of 2015, had turned south.

Meanwhile, back down Black St, a sandbag truck had arrived to deliver some more sandbags. Also, people were beginning to tape up their windows in crosses, and someone had even began to build their own bomb shelter. The time was 9am on the 7th of September 2015, and all of Whitehorse was beginning to prepare for the war, starting on that morning. But also that morning, everyone was about to be tested once more. In a spotting tower beyond the treeline, the spotters in the tower saw an artillery round, and it was heading straight for Whitehorse.
"Artillery! 12 o'clock! Call Whitehorse, we need the warning sounded!" A spotter shouted down a phone. Whitehorse RCMP were called, and they passed on the warning to the civil defence squad, who prepared to sound the alarm.

Through a radio in a parked RCMP cruiser, Jeremiah heard some very frantic broadcasting.
"10-18, 10-60, we have an artillery shell heading towards Whitehorse, all units, please get citizens in shelter when alarm sounds immediately, I repeat, artillery shell to hit Whitehorse!" The dispatcher said quickly.
"10-4, taking shelter."
"Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap, oh crap."
"Getting people in shelter right now."
"I'm running into the school right now. What a world."

"EVERYONE GET TO SHELTER RIGHT NOW!" Jeremiah yelled. A few seconds later, the siren sounded, this time for real. People ran to shelter, schoolchildren hid under their desks, and so did office workers. RCMP officers directed others to shelter, like the previous day, and Canadian Rangers deployed out on the streets to keep the peace, help citizens to shelter, and make sure that no serious damage was caused once the initial blast had happened.

Some people screamed and shouted when they saw the shell fly through the sky. Once the bomb had tipped to nearly 35 degrees, everyone was pretty much in shelter. Then the siren stopped, and all of Whitehorse was silent. The silence was broken seconds later by the explosion of the bomb, and surprisingly, a car. A set of apartments on Front Street had been hit, and if it wasn't for school and work, more people would have lost their lives. But unfortunately, 6 people still died.

Jeremiah got back up, ignoring the fact that the all-clear had not yet sounded, and galloped back to the station, quickly getting his uniform on, and responded to the bomb site. Then, he saw the smoke of another shell fly over the sky while he was going down Elliot Street, and very close to him, another explosion went up. The BDG office collapsed. An estimated 20 people were killed when the bomb hit, and 59 survivors were recorded, most, if not all, were injured. Jeremiah quickly got to the collapsed building while the all-clear sounded, and when he got there, he saw a truly-terrible sight. (to him) A burning Canadian flag on the ground.

He tried stamping out the flag with his hooves, and managed to reduce some of the fire, in the expense of causing minor burns to his hooves. Jeremiah then took off his tunic, and used his shirt to extinguish the fire, which succeeded, but what was left of the flag was a very scorched red and white strip of fabric. Jeremiah wrapped the destroyed flag around a damaged streetlight, and as emergency units responded, they knew things were bad.
"First responder?" A firefighter asked.
"Yes. Was going to the other one, then this place blew up, and I get there, and see a burning flag. I put it out, hung it up, and now we're here." Jeremiah replied. A police barricade was set up on 2nd Avenue, and numerous people were evacuated from the street.

That day was filled with paperwork, assistance, and public service announcements. Soon, the Canadian government put a few plans into action. They began a scheme to ban car headlights from shining into the trees, and the temporary solution was to tape over headlights until there was only a slit visible. This was predicted to cause many traffic accidents, one of which happened when Jeremiah was at the station filing paperwork that night. Not many people had supported the plan, but it was in a few months, they would.

The rest of September was filled with work for Jeremiah, and war politics for the government. All major parties in parliament were reshuffled to form a war cabinet, and the headlight slit program had gone into full - and more official use. Mayo was still held, giving SOP troops 83 hours to march on the roads, but strict regulations kept them in the woods, and in the trenches. Days passed, and sometimes, not a single advance was made. But finally, on one day in late September, Jeremiah received a letter from Thomas, who thankfully, had not been shot dead.
'My dearest Jeremiah,

Mailing restrictions have now been lifted. I can receive and reply to your letters now. I am still alive, but I have taken at least one cartridge to the chest. Thankfully, the doctors got me back into fit shape as soon as they can, and all that is left of the wound is a scar.

Must be a frightening sensation that the Soldiers of Pegasus are an 83 hour-long walk from Whitehorse. We have heard that the dominion's Declaration of War has been signed a few weeks ago, and that now we are on their side. I can see you fighting crime back in Whitehorse, and I wish I could join you, but I do not think I will be allowed, because I think my coat is a dark shade of brown.

I really miss my home. Fighting this war has become tiresome and surprisingly boring, even on the Pegasus side, reportedly. Desertion is going up, reportedly, from both of our sides, and it appears that one of our prisoners have developed a form of Stockholm Syndrome.

I wish for this damn war to be over.
- Thomas Allis'
Jeremiah wrote back, stating the current conditions in Whitehorse - the panic, the fear, and the anger, the bombings and the rationing that was to come into effect in October. The letter was sent to a trench a few kilometres south of Mayo, where a stalemate between Thomas' battalion and a SOP battalion was taking place. Soon, barrages of artillery began to fall, and soon, the CTA were sent hurtling back, setting course for the 'breakthrough'.
Banned
Original Poster
#12 Old 10th Feb 2016 at 10:50 PM
Default Constable Centaur - C11 - November Rain - P1
It was November the 1st, 2015. The SOP were becoming dangerously close to Whitehorse, and the artillery blasts seemed more frequent than ever. Moreover, the amount of shells fired had become higher - usually 5 were fired at the city, with an 60% chance of hitting it's target. Meanwhile, The Coalition's grip on Whitehorse had peaked, and now entire businesses were owned by The Coalition. Also, Jeremiah had lost his protection. They were all killed when the car they were in was blown up by an artillery shell.
Jeremiah was at his desk in the detachment, filing another set of paperwork, when he was called to the commander's office.
"Are those new shoes there?" The commander asked.
"Nah, I'm due for some new ones in a few days. Cleaned them, though. I guess you could tell." Jeremiah replied as he stood at the commander's desk.
"To the reason why you're here then. The Coalition have grown strong. I understand you've had no problems with them in the past months, but that was not an empty threat, Jeremiah. They grew, and now they're ready to come after you. I'd keep your gun on you on duty."
"Understood, sir."
"Also, it's going to snow really bad this month. I hope you'll be warm enough."
"Sir, I do grow a winter coat."
"Oh, ew, that sound's disgusting."
"It isn't really that disgusting. It's like growing hair on your head, only more of it, and for winter."
"Alright, alright, dismissed. I need to clear the thought."

The door was shut with a hind hoof, and while the commander tried to remove the mental images, Jeremiah sat back on the floor, and got back to working on his computer. An hour later, he went on patrol, and held onto his gun holster on the way out. Outside, sandbags were piled across the street - there was a lot of bombing in October - and a Canadian Red Cross van was parked outside for the 31st consecutive day in a row. A family who had lost their house on Halloween were waiting outside for supplies, and were growing tired and impatient of the bad service they were getting - simply because the van needed restocking.

Jeremiah was drinking a Tim Hortons near the place where he put out a burning Canadian flag. Like all former bomb sites, there was less traffic, because people were scared of being killed. The population had took a sharp drop since war was declared - only 12,053 people lived in Whitehorse now. Same was for the whole of the Yukon - most of the population of the Yukon was Whitehorse residents, and there was little to no human life in the north. But the scary thought was that the SOP had gained much ground, and that some day in December, the SOP would break through the treeline and invade Whitehorse.

Speaking of, HDC 42 was nearly at maximum capacity. Constables Celestile and Tomlinson were in the yard, talking about the reported drop of morale in the SOP. In fact, the guard joined in with the conversation.
"They want us going back and forth and back and forth, I think Ceaumann is going to end up like his namesake." The guard on the watchtower said.
"I know what you're on about here - World War One was like that." Constable Tomlinson replied.
"Supposedly people are calling for a revolution in Ironwolf, and even some soldiers are in favour of that."
"Yeah, I agree with them. Seems a little, er, draconian, is that the word?"
"It is."
"I think Ironwolf is a little too draconian."
"As I used to live there, I agree with you."
"You did?"
"Before I joined and was posted here, yes. We had rationing, curfews, conscription, and at one time, a protest that ended with the secret police infiltrating and arresting the main block."
"So it's like Nazi Berlin slash Beijing slash Pyongyang?"
"I do not know any of those cities, but I think you should go before the commander catches us."
Tomlinson picked at the dirt, pulling out a piece of rusted metal. On it, there was an inscription saying 'CTA .308 ROUND - ONLY FOR LONG RANGE RIFLES'. He called a guard, and soon, there were many guards circulating, all to take a look at the bullet that had dug it's way into the ground. The commander finally turned up, snatched the bullet out of Constable Tomlinson's hand, and took it for himself, much to many of the guards' anger.
"We're getting closer to a revolution yet?" Celestile asked the guards.
"Soon. That day will dawn when we, the subjects of fascism, will be free, prisoner." A guard replied.

That day, two guards were fired and placed into custody - which was actually an execution squad. Meanwhile in Whitehorse, Jeremiah was helping to push a crowd back from an unexploded bomb near the RCMP detachment as the bomb squads did their work, and pretty soon, he handed control over to a corporal, and assisted in lifting out the disarmed bomb from the hole it had made in the road. He helped lift the bomb into a Bearcat, where it would be disposed of via controlled explosion.

"Control to Allis, we've got four people in suits outside your house..." The dispatcher began.
"SH*T! ON MY WAY!" Jeremiah replied. Only a few minutes after the bomb was driven away, a call came in that four men in suits were outside his house, and what Jeremiah didn't hear was that they were armed and dangerous. It was four hitmen of The Coalition, unsurprisingly.

After Jeremiah had dodged cars while galloping through the city streets, even jumping over a burnt-out car, he had made it to his house, and immediately, the hitmen opened fire on Jeremiah. For the first time since he was in Depot, he had to shoot. He quickly took out his gun from his holster, ducked behind the sandbags, and opened fire on the hitmen. During the firefight, he had to use one extra ammunition magazine to take down all four gunmen, which he did. He didn't get those patches on his tunic for nothing. backup arrived two minutes after Jeremiah took the hitmen down. Five cruisers turned up, and after everyone got out with their guns in their hands, they lowered their arms, and quickly sealed access to Black Street.
"What have we got, Jeremiah?" A corporal asked.
"All dead." Jeremiah replied, feeling proud of himself.

A set of coroner vans pulled up to take away the bodies, and after the bodies were put in the van, James finally came back out of the house.
"Is it over?" James asked after running to Jeremiah.
"It's over. They're off to the morgue for some post-mortem examination. That's the best word I've said in a long while." Jeremiah replied. As investigators - ahem - picked up the pieces of evidence from the shootout, a RCMP SUV skidded off code 3 in pursuit of a Maybach sedan. Jeremiah instantly shot off in pursuit with a vengeance. The Maybach crashed into a tree, and Jeremiah almost threw himself onto the driver arresting him. He was a Coalition driver, and he could be proved useful to the RCMP. But first, police brutality.
"YOU SONS OF B*TCHES, TELL THE FAMILY TO NEVER GO ON BLACK STREET. EVER!" Jeremiah shouted. He was about to beat the driver with his baton, but RCMP officers and civilians managed to pull him away before he could.

A few minutes later, he was in the briefing room, alongside Fraser (he was working in Whitehorse that week), Detachment Commander John-Pateu (as he was known), Canadian Red Cross, the driver, and all officers in the station staring him down. John-Pateu stood up, and immediately started laying down the law.
"Jeremiah, your actions in the apprehension of this suspect, Gerald Parrilo, has been labelled as police brutality. You know what that means, right?" John-Pateau asked.
"I-I'm fired?" Jeremiah stammered.
Before John-Pateu could say anything, Fraser tried to get Jeremiah something less - week-long suspension.
"You do realise, John-Pateu, that Constable Jeremiah Allis is going through a rough time, do you? His father has left to fight in the civil war, his hometown, which is here, is at risk of attack by an N.S.D.A.P's SS-like army, The Coalition entering the city and gaining a stranglehold on storefronts and the city government, and the artillery shelling we are currently suffering from making him work overtime on occasion, and The Coalition executing a 'hit' on him and targeting him at his house - I would settle for the less-brutal one week suspension with pay." Fraser argued.
"With pay?" John-Pateu asked, raising an eyebrow.
"With all due respect sir, Canadian Government funds to the Allis-Garland residence has hit an all-time low due to the war. One of the only sources of income he has right now is from the RCMP."
"Can you take it out of your bank account, if we don't get the greenlight from Ottawa?"
"Willingly, sir."
"So what's my fate?" Jeremiah asked. Fraser and John-Pateau walked out of the room and into the squadroom.

"Fraser, he did something bad. Why let a bad cop go punished in a minor way?" John-Pateu asked angrily, grabbing Fraser by his shirt collar.
"John-Pateu, let me go immideately, or under S.C 2013, c. 18, I am legally allowed to terminate your position in the Whitehorse RCMP." Fraser sternly warned.
"TA GUELE. Allis did bad. I want him out of my detachment."
"From what has been said, you wanted to see him working in your detachment. Also, for swearing, I order your position in the RCMP terminated. Lay your hands off me, and accept your resignation."
"CON CASSE-TOI, FRASER! I WILL NOT RESIGN!"
"Mr John-Pateu, lay your hands off me, calm down, and accept your resignation, or I will be forced to call for assistance."
"TABARNAK!" John-Pateu yelled, then throwing a punch at Fraser, knocking off his hat. Fraser fought back, using skills he utilized in Chicago over 20 years ago. While he had aged, he still was a good fighter.

John-Pateu was thrown onto a desk, knocking off the computer, and Fraser restrained him using many pieces of office equipment, mostly tape, to keep John-Pateu restrained. Officers rushed in, and saw Fraser putting his hat back on.
"What happened?" A constable asked.
"He refused to accept his resignation, and swore many times, then started fighting. Threw him onto the desk, and now he's yours." Fraser replied nonchalantly.
"Is he okay?"
"A few bruises, I would guess. Maybe an arm injury or two. And... oh, I have a cut in my left hand." Fraser said, wiping the blood and dabbing the wound with a tissue. He then asked, "Can someone bring Jeremiah in here? And can someone please take away John-Pateu?"

Jeremiah walked in, and saw John-Pateu getting taken away.
"Fraser, what did you do?!" Jeremiah cried.
"Long story short, a fight broke out over resignation." An officer said.
"Jeremiah, we have come to the conclusion that you will be suspended with pay out of my vault. I understand I am breaking the rules and that I am liable to being thrown out of office by the Prime Minister, but hey, it was a reasonable sacrifice." Fraser said.
"Out of your vault?" Jeremiah asked.
"I have too much money. I donate to the Red Cross and other charities helping the city regularly, and I think someone else to throw money at, not literally, would be a polite gesture."
"Fraser, you're always polite."
"Exactly, Jeremiah. Hand in your badge and gun, please."

Jeremiah handed in his badge and gun, but questioned why his Red Serge was not handed in.
"I like you in your uniform, Jeremiah. And I would never take the clothes off your back." Fraser responded.
"Well, thanks." Jeremiah replied.
"Always a pleasure. Remember my mansion address?"
"I do, Fraser."
"You know, now that you're out of work, I'd like it if you started calling me Benton for a change."
"That's okay, Benton."
"Alright. I'll call if I want you to come over."
"Thank you kindly."
"Or just steal my words. That's okay."

Fraser got in his SUV at the same time as Jeremiah was about to set off back home.
"Are you trying to get my attention, Benny?" Jeremiah asked.
Fraser paused, remembering how Vecchio always called him 'Benny', then quickly closed his door, and sped off. Something clearly was wrong with him, Jeremiah thought. Could be trauma, most likely it was.

Jeremiah got home to James yelling at the media to go away. He was threatening to call the police, and before James could say that the police had arrived, Jeremiah immediately broke the news.
"James, I've been suspended for a week with pay!" He yelled.
The cameras stopped clicking for a few seconds, then started again.
"Why." James sternly asked.
"That guy I arrested? Sarge claimed brutality, he got beat up by Fraser, now I'm suspended with pay. At least I'm not fired."
"How come he got beat up by Fraser? In fact, why was Fraser even there?"
"For one, he was working in the city, and two, there was a whole lot of swearing from Sarge, and Fraser got himself into a fight. But I discovered that I think he's still traumatised."
"Hang on a sec - CAN YOU JUST GO AWAY!?" The news reporters backed off, and James continued. "I give him deep sympathy. He's lost pretty much everyone in his life, and I guess he didn't want to see you go."
"True. I'm going to hang up my uniform, and go for a walk."

Jeremiah put on his favourite brown riding jacket - he had to dust it off because it had not been worn in months - and walked out of the house, looking at the Bell-Victory siren covered in a light dusting of snow, then walked down the street to the centre of the city. The snow began to fall in a light amount, then it suddenly turned into a blizzard-like storm. He was glad he had the winter coat - he'd probably freeze himself to frostbite - and if it was to the hooves, certain death.

Traffic snarled in the snow. Well, there was not a lot of snarling, because people were told that if it was snowing, artillery would be less frequent, but hidden and potentially more deadly. As Jeremiah walked through the almost-empty streets of Whitehorse, he saw a propaganda poster saying 'THIS IS THE ENEMY' and on the bottom, the caption read 'CONFUSION MEANS THE DEATH PENALTY'
"Death penalty?" Jeremiah asked himself. Two men named Robert Turpin and Arthur Lucas were last people in Canada to be executed on the 11th of December 1962 at 12:02 (source: Wikipedia) - two minutes after midnight. There was a caption that read below it that it was CTA-printed, and a stamp said that it was to be recalled and replaced by a poster that wasn't anachronistic.

The snow continued on and on. Without a hood, Jeremiah's hair was dusted with snow, and his tail worked overtime swatting away snow that kept annoying him. As he walked down the main road, he could see the damage the war had done to the city. Boarded-up businesses, barred windows, hastily-made methods to seal up broken building walls and windows, and one or two cars for sale at quite a low price. They were broken, and all that the owner wanted to sell was the parts.

Jeremiah walked into a café, where signs outside read that it was moving down south. The woman manning the register jumped up at the sight of Jeremiah.
"Jeremiah, how can I help you today?" She asked.
"No, no, I'm not getting anything. I'm on suspension, but," Jeremiah said, then putting on a voice to impersonate someone from the Spacing Guild; "the money must flow."
"And you mean by that, that guy from Dune?"
"Ah, you watched it? Nice. Government grants have become sparse, so Fraser's lending me money for the week that I'm off for.
"Hear anything else about The Coalition other than the shooting you were in?"
"Quite a bit."
"Well some people think they want everyone out so they can rule the city."
"Who said that?"
"Only the driver you nearly beat up?"
"How'd word get around?"
"Word of mouth."

Outside, a loud explosion happened only a block away from the café, smashing the windows.
"Well I best be gone, people need me, and all that stuff." Jeremiah said, buttoning his jacket back up.
"Another day, another explosion?" The cashier asked.
"Definitely. Good luck in Alberta!"

Jeremiah got out, but remembered he was no longer a police officer, and he could be arrested for trespassing. As a fire truck trundled by, Jeremiah thought for a few seconds, then he quickly got to the scene, and immediately pulled out someone from a collapsed building. Some RCMP constables tried to pull him back, but knew he was not a cop for a week or so, so let Jeremiah stay, but it was too late, because Jeremiah knew he had felt betrayed.

Meanwhile, in Ironwolf, the parliament was in session when news broke of a successful 'stealth barrage'.
"We have confirmation that we have hit Whitehorse under the cover of snow." A secretary said to the parliament. Murmurs of disbelief and utter we-actually-did-it remarks flooded the room.
"Order, order, we should keep cabinet in the prior topic." The speaker said.
"Mr Speaker, I disagree, we have achieved a major goal, why should we talk about the desertion plan?" Alphonse Ceaumann argued.
"High Chancellor Ceaumann, the desertion plan is to stop our troops from deserting to the Centaur Territorial Army. None of us want that, would you not either?"
"Well, no, I..."
"You want to hear about it. ORDER."

A desertion plan was proposed, but not enacted. Still, around 4 SOP soldiers a day deserted to the SOP, and because morale in the SOP trenches was sharply dropping, the CTA welcomed them with open arms. Speaking of, the mayors of many cities in Canada welcomed refugees with open arms. A certain town mayor said it was 'Operation: Yellow Ribbon' all over again, but without the planes, and the mayor of Whitehorse encouraged those who stayed to learn self defence. Jeremiah, meanwhile, was outside a Tim Hortons with no windows, and was drinking a coffee after pulling out two dead bodies and a survivor, and he could tell that someday, The Coalition would catch him.

And catch him they would.

Constable Centaur C11 - November Rain - P2

A few days later on the third day of Jeremiah's suspension, Jeremiah was watching outside his window as a couple moved out of their house. The snow was not as heavy as it was before, but it still could block visibility of artillery. But Whitehorse was prepared better than before. Now, there were bomb shelters in various locations around the city, and people were generally more ready for when a bomb would hit.
"Sad sight, eh?" James said as he joined Jeremiah looking out of the window.
"Yep. Place will be a ghost town by December." Jeremiah replied.
"So when am I leaving?"
"Only at the last minute, James."

Soon, James was locking the ramp of the horsebox, and got in his Ram to drive to the farrier. Jeremiah's plans to go to the farrier in early October were interrupted by constant shelling, and now Jeremiah had a chance, because the SOP cannons were temporarily out of service. The road leading to the farrier had been bombed multiple times, which left behind large craters in the road James had to dodge. There was always the risk of crashing into a responding emergency vehicle or someone slowly driving, so James had to take care. But in the end, James did get to the farrier.

"Jeremiah, back again?" The farrier asked when he opened the door.
"Yep. Would have come last month, but the war happened." Jeremiah replied.
"Well I think there would be a bit of wear. Money, please, and I'll reshoe ya."

Money was paid, and Jeremiah walked to the stable area. James came along to watch and take notes, and as the farrier got his equipment ready, as before, Jeremiah whipped out a newspaper and read about the Halloween bombings and the investigation into the Red Cross running out of supplies.
"Red Cross are being investigated for running out of supplies." Jeremiah said, as he turned the page.
"Read about it on the Post website this morning. It's kinda horrible that they seem to let their supplies run out." James replied.
"Oh, I'm affected, gas cut off the other day. Had to cook with fire." The farrier said as he lifted Jeremiah's right hind hoof. He took out his pincers, and began to take off Jeremiah's horseshoes, which were starting to show signs of wear.

After the horseshoes were off and put in a box for safekeeping, the replacement began, this time less painful and more careful than before. In all, it took around an hour and a few minutes for the whole process to be complete, and after the thanking, Jeremiah was loaded back into the Ram, and James got in the cab, and began to get going back home. But Jeremiah had other plans.
"James, I'd like to go visit that boy in the hospital, preferably today." Jeremiah said over the phone.
"Didn't you hear? They've evacuated the most critical patients the other day." James argued.
"But he's out of critical condition! Surely he must be there still!"
"I don't think they'd allow you on the first floor. I've asked my co-workers, and they'd think you'd either hit your head or fall down the stairs."
"Listen, I just got some new horseshoes, I think I'd have a better chance. And I've been up the stairs in the old house, and I fell down only once. Also, back in Depot, I went upstairs many times, and didn't fall down once."
"How many steps had to be replaced while you were there?"
"Not confirmed, but they said seven."
"That's my point proven."
"Come on, I potentially saved his life. He's probably going to want to see me."
After some thinking, James finally concluded. "Alright, alright. On the condition that you don't do anything stupid there. I have an office, and I could get you in there if I wanted.

James soon pulled up in the parking lot of the Whitehorse General Hospital, and after letting Jeremiah out, he turned the Ram around and parked it in his parking spot. As he walked with Jeremiah into the hospital, an ambulance driver sounded his horn, and he shouted "Jamie! Long time, no see!"
"Oh great. It's Tim." James replied.
"Who's Tim?" Jeremiah asked.
"He drives ambulances, and he tries to make me laugh. Never works."
"Jamie! How's Jeremiah?" Tim asked.
"He's just had some new shoes done, just do your job, someone's life might be at stake." James replied.
"It's snowing out. I don't think something has blown up yet."
"Shut up and get going! Someone might have had a heart attack!"
Over the ambulance radio, the dispatcher said "We have a panic attack near RCMP, any ambulance respond Code 3, victim is presumed to be a danger to the public."
"See? There you go. Move it." James yelled.
"10-4, responding." Tim then set. He then went Code 3, and skidded off.

A First Nations man beaten up by the RCMP illegally was wheeled past Jeremiah when they got in, and the First Nations man swore at Jeremiah.
"That was something along the lines of 'F*ck you beast cop.'." Jeremiah said.
"How did you know that?" James asked.
"Someone who knew Inuit taught me in Depot."
"Ah, I see it finally came in handy."

"Hey, it's James Garland, work here. I've got Jeremiah looking for a... who's he called?" James said to the receptionist at the desk.
"Jeremy Roberts." Jeremiah said.
"That guy. Jeremiah would like to see him."
"Alright, he's on the second floor... oh, he can't..." The receptionist began.
"Hey, I can walk up stairs without falling... if I'm lucky."
"Fine! Go up the stairs, but don't come crying if you fall down."

James and Jeremiah walked up the stairs, with James holding a scrap of paper with the hospital bed location on. Eventually, after nearly getting lost, they made it. Jeremiah asked James to stay outside, and after sprucing himself up, Jeremiah went inside to see Jeremy. Instantly, Jeremy sprung up from his bed when he caught a glimpse of Jeremiah's tail as he tried looking for his bed. He yelled for Jeremiah to come over to the third bed on the right of the ward, and so Jeremiah did that.
"I wished you come back." Jeremy said, flattening his scruffy hair.
"Well I was on my back home from the farrier, and I asked my assistant to come here. I finally coaxed him to do so." Jeremiah replied, his tail swishing away some flies that had managed to get into the hospital.
"Nice. Anyway, before you ask, I'm getting better. Doctors stitched the wounds, but my parents, as overprotective as they are, they don't want me walking around school with these wounds."
"HA! GOT EEM!" Someone yelled.
"Shut up, that's old!" Another person yelled.
"I have to deal with these two every day. It's horrible. Can't wait to get out of the hospital and be with my buddies." Jeremy continued.
"Did you just seriously say that?"
"Shut it, you! Sorry, they pass on witty bants back and forth. How come you're not in your uniform?"
"Got suspended because of brutality, and because we aren't American, top brass doesn't like that. I was going to get fired, but then Fraser stepped in and lowered it to week-long suspension with pay. And before you ask, he has too much money, and we don't have enough back home."
"Oh, that's a shame. It's good that we're not the LAPD of the country."
"I think the Vancouver Police Department is the LAPD, and the Toronto Police is the NYPD."
"Same."
"We have a lot of things in common, don't we?"
"Well since you saved my life, one, I want to join the RCMP, and two, I want to experience life in your... poor choice of words. AHEM, I've always wondered what your species' life is like."
"For starters, we're a race, as classified by the science people."
"Canadian government scientists?"
"Yep. And we can't lie on our backs, and breaking legs is the death sentence."
"Harsh."
"That's how horses work, don't they?"
"Oh yeah, I forgot."
"You haven't heard about war being declared?"
"Oh yeah, we had to be taken to a part of the hospital where the walls won't cave in. Or something."
"I helped get some people into shelter. Then we got a taste of the real thing. Now we have propaganda on the walls, the TV and radio and even on the bumpers of cars. I know that because our police cars have little CTA stickers on the bumpers."
"We always get the news at six on these cheap-as TVs that usually never work."
"And I thought Depot had the worst TVs in the world."
"Well I've gotta go. Who knows, something might have blown up back in downtown."
"Stay safe, Jeremiah."

As Jeremiah was walking out, Jeremy yelled, "Hey, do you still have my badge?"
"On my wall!" Jeremiah replied.
"Just checking!"

"You took your sweet time. Got Madagascar infected on this game, and people are saying that is nearly impossible." James said, putting his phone away. He got annoyed looks from the doctors passing.
"James, this is a hospital. Don't discuss that stuff here." Jeremiah warned. Sure enough, James was ejected from the hospital. The security guard struck up a conversation with Jeremiah about the RCMP, and how the security guard got sacked for shooting a civilian in a personal vendetta on patrol.
"How come you aren't in jail?" Jeremiah asked.
"My mother bailed me out. Last time I saw her before she died of lung cancer." The security guard replied.
"I'm so sorry for your loss. Anyway, I need to go, the person you just ejected must be furious."
"Alright, bye. I think I'm going south anyway."
"Good on you. This place is going to hell, anyway."

"Why didn't you use the second amendment on him or something?" James asked, annoyed at his removal.
"Correction: It's the fourth amendment. And it doesn't work here, because it is the US Bill O' Rights." Jeremiah replied.
"Come on, let's get out of here. Snow's slowing down, and they'll only blow this place up in a femtosecond."

Jeremiah was loaded into the Ram, and soon, James was driving back home. But the Lewes Blvd bridge was being hastily repaired after a part of it fell into the river, which meant James had to wait for the bridge to be repaired in the lane he was in. As ambulances raced by, James was sat on his phone playing Plague Inc., and Jeremiah was watching the TV, which showed footage from the fall of Minto, which then showed a map of the estimated territory taken and how long it was until the SOP would get to Whitehorse. 252km, and the SOP's advance seemed to have slowed down considerably. With 52 more hours of walking until they got to Whitehorse, the advance seemed to be dangerously coming closer. It was then that Jeremiah swore that if the SOP were too close to Whitehorse for his liking around December, he'd join the CTA.

James pulled over at the Tim Hortons to get a package from the owner, and Jeremiah got out to relieve himself. He walked down an alley, took a dump, and after clearing the waste into a dumpster, Jeremiah walked out of the alley.

Or at least he was about to. A group of suited men walked up to Jeremiah, and tried capturing him. While Jeremiah did fight back, it took one blow from a crowbar to knock him to the ground unconscious. A Ford F350, much like the one James' parents used to own, was reversed down the alley, and after Jeremiah's unconscious body was loaded into the trunk with a blacked-out trunk cap, and the suited men got back in the F350, and drove to a building. Those men were Coalition hitmen. And they may have achieved their goals.

The commotion was seen and heard by many people, including James. He dropped the package with a crash, and pushed people out of the way to see if Jeremiah was down the alley. He then checked everywhere across the city, except for one block which he thought was completely abandoned. The RCMP put an APB bulletin out, seeking him strictly alive. In a joint offer, Stephen Harper and Comm'r Benton Fraser offered $1,000,000 to the person who found Jeremiah. The whole city quickly got to searching for Jeremiah, and they searched throughout the day, making the same mistake James did. Not searching the shut down NOW Appliance and Bedding Center. That was where Jeremiah was taken to.

Constable Centaur - C11 - November Rain - P3



That was a code for what was translated as: "Put on Pruitt Igoe, get some baseball bats, and beat him/her up.", which meant that Jeremiah had to survive a beating. And Coalition beatings were usually lethal. But thankfully, the RCMP had been alerted that suspicious activities were occurring in the abandoned store, and that someone could even hear Jeremiah in there. Instantly, the RCMP and paramedics were rushed to the area, but they didn't get there in time to stop the beating.

Pruitt Igoe was skipped to 2:30, and when the trumpets kicked in, Yosef left the room, and the beating began. Four men beat Jeremiah with baseball bats, striking him hard, and causing moderate injuries. Meanwhile, sharpshooters were on their way, the RCMP helicopter was taking off, and angry crowds were surging towards the abandoned store to tear down the barricades and serve justice.

Fraser ran out of his mansion, and sped into the RCMP detachment, and by the time Fraser had arrived at the detachment, the RCMP were breaching, and Yosef was shot by the breaching teams. That night, The Coalition were eliminated from Whitehorse with a lot of angry officers firing at the brass of The Coalition's Whitehorse division, and later, angry civilians breaking down the doors and beating the members. All were pronounced dead or severely injured. But the main reason why the building was breached was to save Jeremiah. And he was showing very visible signs of injury.
"What do we do, what do we do?!" A paramedic shouted.
"He can't fit in an ambulance, get an F-350 and get him to the hospital NOW!" An RCMP constable shouted back.

Jeremiah was lifted up and put in the back of an RCMP F-350, and was quickly driven to hospital. Traffic was almost completely empty - it was night-time, and people were still scared over going out at night over a new threat - spies. Reportedly, human prisoners were sent in as spies, and mostly they failed because they ran to safety, but some actually came back with legitimate information that may cost some lives in the future. With the advantage of little to no traffic, Jeremiah was sent to hospital quickly, and after the F-350 screeched to a halt at the emergency entrance, Jeremiah was unloaded and was rushed into an emergency room.

Being carried around by five or six men in a busy hospital did not make Jeremiah feel any better. The pain was coming through in waves, and Jeremiah screamed in pain as the wave hit. The men kept running - his life was in their hands and they needed to get to the emergency ward quickly, and eventually, Jeremiah was booked in, and the injuries were analysed by emergency operators and vets alike.
"First of all, no legs were broken." A vet said. Many people expressed their relief. But then, the bad news came. "But the bad news is that we have a few fractured ribs in both rib cages, and laminitis looks almost certain. He'll be out of action for a few days, and without a proper bed until one was supplied. For that moment, he had to sleep on a normal hospital bed.

In order to ensure Jeremiah had a higher chance of walking out of hospital almost intact, Jeremiah had to be operated on. He was wheeled to the emergency operating room, and he was gassed to unconsciousness so his bones could be operated on so they could be healed quicker. As Jeremiah faded from consciousness, James stood in the window worried and Fraser was slowly losing his sanity. And yes, he was slowly going insane. At around 10:03PM that night, Jeremiah's vision cut to black. He was now in a coma.



He was then in the real world once more, with Fraser staring right into his eyes. Once Jeremiah opened his eyes, he jolted back slightly in surprise.
"Sorry if I startled you." Fraser said.
Jeremiah looked at Fraser's lower half, and saw that he was wearing pants and had two legs. He then checked himself. The body of a horse beyond it's head, and of course, the 'boots' were still there. Everything was normal. "Ah yeah, you kinda did." He replied a few seconds later.
Fraser then produced Jeremiah's hat. "Figured you might want this."
"Ah thanks. Been concerned about having to buy a new one, amongst my list of things to worry about right now. Like, for example, laminitis."
"I really do think we have a lot of things in common."
"Yeah, we're men, we're both famous, we both work in the RCMP, we are too kind sometimes..."
"I'm going to stop you right there, because I don't believe that's true. You threatened the driver you nearly beat up."
"Oh. Is James here?"
"He's working overtime in his office, running back and forth, with an apparent line to the doctors back in Alderney."
"And has the Prime Minister heard?"
"Third port of call on the list of people to telephone, which includes Premier Snow."
"How did he react? I'm talking about Stevie."
"Stephen? He slammed down the receiver, and from what I heard, he's commenced an immediate crackdown on the mafia."
"Anyway, how come you ran away when I said..."
"Please, no. I'm going through some really hard times right now, and I can't have the past haunt me. I'd rather have been killed by the shot that put me in a Chicago hospital now."
A constable guarding the door then stepped in, and said, "Fraser, we'll have to put you on suicide watch from now on."
"Oh dear. I best go." Fraser then said. He got up and sought the media to provide a statement.

James then walked into the ward as Jeremiah adjusted his hat. He had a radio on his belt, and the reflection on his forehead showed that he was sweating.
"Did Fraser come in?" He asked.
"He did and gave me back my hat. And he's been put on suicide watch." Jeremiah replied.
James lowered his radio. "What did he say?"
"Something about dying after being shot in Chicago."
"Who put him on the watch?"
"The officer outside the door."
"Alright, if he's having one of his turns like he's Pink or something, I'd say that he has to go on the watch."
"The Wall."
"Correct. Are you feeling any pains?"
"Not since I woke up, no."
James then poked and prodded in all the areas where Jeremiah's ribs were broken, and asked if they were hurting. It turned out that whatever the doctors did and thanks to the hardened bones of the centaur, the pain had gone and the bones were less brittle. James then picked up his radio after the 'inspection', and said, "Jeremiah said he wasn't feeling any pain, according from what I've tried."
"You want him out by midday or you want him to stay in so he's more recovered?" Someone asked over the radio.
"It's five in the morning, and a bomb dropped outside city limits a few hours ago. I'd say keep him in until 8AM."
"Copy. We'll discharge him around that time, and he'll be free to go. Just make sure he doesn't do anything that can damage the ribs."

Jeremiah then turned on the TV, and saw a breaking news report from CTV. The tanks were estimated to arrive by December the 5th. Commander-in-Chief (representing the Royal Highness) David Johnston said that a deadline had been agreed with Commander Chevalin, and he said that he hoped that this will turn the tide of the war to the CTA's side.
"About time they came." Jeremiah said.
"Five tanks versus over 100,000 half-horse soldiers? I don't think they'll do much, if not anything." James replied.
"True, true. But dad said some time ago that morale was dropping."
"Welcome to the North-West, where you'll freeze your balls to gelding status."

Some locals of Whitehorse then came in. They all knew that Jeremiah was coming out of hospital by (possible, I don't know) sunrise. They came with gifts, cards and word-of-mouth, and all wished Jeremiah got out of the hospital with a spring in his step. Actually, no, an old woman said the latter. Some children, even at 5AM in the Yukon winter-ish morning came to see him, and once they all left, Jeremiah felt satisfied knowing that the people loved him.

At around 8AM, Jeremiah was discharged after he tried walking, which succeeded without pain. James signed the paperwork, and once they got outside into the light snow, James said a few kind words to Jeremiah, mostly about him making it out almost like normal, and Jeremiah felt touched. He was then put in the horsebox, and driven back home.

When they got home, the mailbox had a letter in. James handed over the letter to Jeremiah - it had Thomas' handwriting on the front. Once Jeremiah got in, he slowly sat himself on the floor, and opened the letter while James threw himself on his bed.
'My dearest Jeremiah,
We are still retreating. The SOP are using methods that cut off our supplies, which force us to retreat. But I hear that the tanks are coming on the fifth of December. The tanks, I do believe, are going to make but a small difference, because we are up against three or four battalions at a time. And if you come into this war, I wish it could end upon your first shot.

The Coalition have been ousted, I hear, but at the cost of you being injured. If you have received this, then you would probably be conscious and recovering. It is a shame that they have to treat you in that fashion because you arrested a man a few months ago. If I were them, I would give up by early November, and head back east-bound. But alas, my hopes and dreams always lie.

I hear Whitehorse has lost a lot of residents, of which are mostly fleeing southbound. We bumped into a few, told them where to go, and they survived another day. Hopefully. But the SOP, we hear, are sending in spies into major cities in the dominion. If you see a spy, hand them in to the police, and tell them to call the CTA to interrogate and process the spy.

Please do get well.
Yours faithfully,
Thomas Allis'

Another letter from the trenches always seemed to lift Jeremiah's spirits. It made him think that he was still alive, and was able to write. He put the letter aside, pulled out his laptop, and decided to use his Twitter page to inform everyone he was out of hospital. And as usual, everyone was confused as to why he got out so quick. His response? "We've got free healthcare."
 
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