"We are the Dandelion Brigade !" Claire's voice echoed in the hushed kitchen, not afraid that the walls may have ears. Claire drove her knife into the table. The blade quivered between them like a compass needle. "They call us weeds? Good. Weeds strangle empires. Tonight, we bloom thorns. God bless the grass that grows through concrete ! We have fought several battles before, lost loved ones and enacted justice for the People." her voice cracked a bit, her passion still the same. "We have been rug rats, cobble whisperers, street scribes, stone pelters, scrap assemblers, story peddlers, yet we have grown stronger - now we are Gutter snipers, Stealth brawlers and Gear Junkies. We have come a long way, and yet the Revolution happens everyday. Let us renew our conviction and give our all !"
The room straightened as Claire spoke, backs rigid like soldiers hearing a war cry. This is how she got the position, a Red Scholar scouted her in the dumps and trained her to become one as well, now she's gaining experience as an Urban Guerilla.
Agent Deva was sitting in the corner polishing his handgun, making sure everything was working, he also had a foldable rifle with a serrated knife as its bayonet to his side, this was for long range, yet in this urban warfare, long range hardly ever happens, with the fog and all. After finishing up on his handgun, he then took the magazines for his handgun and filled them up with ammunition. Each round clicked into place. For the mission. For Georg. For the ISB? His hands faltered.. His handgun used a .380 ACP, bullets were easier to make if one had the materials. Melissa spat. "Bullets cost two rations each. Make 'em count." The Resistance depended on themselves for this, resources were scarce and yet with each territory in control, with each Empire armory raided, their power increased incrementally.
After loading 6 magazines of 6 rounds each, he augmented them with his magic. Then he took out a cartridge for his rifle, 6 rounds each as well, he was not fond of automatic rifles, he also prepared 4 magazines and augmented them.
"The operation tomorrow is as follows - Stealth Brawlers, Gutter Snipers and Gear Junkies will form the infiltration and the extraction. While the Urban Guerillas will be the distraction, so me, Fred, Andre, Lyla and Roza will be the distraction - we will hit the police station just next door with remote vehicle bombs and hit the Golden Sylum as well, there are two knights, an Iron Verdict and a Seraphim. We don't know from which order, but there is a high likeliness of the Seraphim being a Hussar. So once we engage with them, the Infiltration team will proceed immediately."
"But boss, a Seraphim is way out of our league, even yours." someone who was sitting next to Agent Deva spoke out, a girl who had tight braids and a clear innocent expression, her attire was that of a Punk, chains and all. Claire nodded ,"Yes, we won't be able to take down a seraphim with all our strengths combined, that's why I'm choosing the strongest amongst us to fight. We will hit and then we will run. The infiltration team, especially the Gutter Snipers will ensure our escape."
Claire's voice dropped. "Seraphim Hussars eat rebels. Remember Brighton?" The room flinched. Nobody forgot Brighton. Natalie's hand crept to her neck-where Brighton's sole survivor bore a Seraphim's brand: a smiling mouth with six angel wings carved into flesh.
Everyone gave a salute and started readying their materials.
Among the Stealth brawlers was Natalie, she suddenly disappeared and showed up in a different location - brandishing glaives as her weapon, with dozens of throwing knives attached to her in a band criss-crossing her chest. The Gutter Snipers, their leader Gonov held his long barrelled rifle and quickle pulled the trigger, no bullet in the chamber, but his different stances showed how he handled the weapon with finesse. He had a gadget that shot out into the roof which made Claire growl at him, but the gadget pulled him up and it shot again in a different direction, he was an expert an finding the best location to secure a position. "Gonov, remember Wester ? That day you dangled at the side of a building all day… Do you want to dangle all day after this mission?" Claire reprimanded him for damaging store property.
And then the urban guerillas, generalists in their specialization, they could do each of every skill, albeit without the peak skills of specialists. They are quick to adapt, and are the best at fighting on the streets, door to door, wherever there needs to be fighting.
"You really should mind your own business, my gadgets are fine. They do the job." One of the Gear Junkies, Melissa, a small petite woman with a specialized lens in her helmet argued with Trent another Gear Junky. "But if you do it like this." He took one of the bombs, and rewired it in the blink of an eye. "You'll be able to set it off without your button." He eyed Melissa as if he won the argument. She did not back down ,"The point of it is that we need to control the cars before they explode, that was what the wire is for. A timed bomb is different to my special bombs. Please, you're a fledgeling questioning a veteran". Melissa snatched the bomb back. "Your 'improvement' nearly blew my hand off last time.' Trent's grin faltered. 'That was one misfire' 'One hand, Trent. One." Trent chuckled with nervous laugh and just looked away. She puffed her chest up savoring the verbal victory.
Melissa's 'firefly' drones hummed to life-junk-heap creations with real firefly glands grafted for stealth. Melissa cooed at her 'fireflies,' their wings whirring with stolen magic. 'My babies hate Iron Verdicts. Don't you?' A drone hissed, antennae twitching toward Trent.
One of the stealth brawlers, Natalie, a brawny woman with scars all over her arms slowly approached Agent Deva, but as she decided not to approach him and turn. Agent Deva called out to her ,"Natalie, what is it." Natalie was surprised ,"Do you have eyes in your back?" she giggled, blushing a bit. "I was going to ask why you're not a stealth brawler, you fight so well, and you use magic with the environment, if you weren't so good at everything else and just saw your fighting, I'd assume you're a stealth brawler just like me." She said, blushing again when she realized how she just complimented him. Agent Deva smiled subtly and answered "I may fight good, but I can only dream of fighting to the level that you do. Why don't we spar a bit when we get back, I might need some pointers." Natalie also smiled, she didn't expect him to compliment her too. Natalie's scarred knuckles whitened. 'You fought like a Brawler in the Scrapyard. I, uh… kept the bolt-cutters you left. For luck.' She paled. Idiot. Why'd I say that? She just nodded and scurried off. "Awkward bunch." Agent Deva said in his mind, appreciating the group once more.
As everyone finished up with their preparation, Claire took the spotlight again. "We take the underground passages, the coast has been cleared for us, no witnesses, no guards. But maybe the area near the Golden Sylum may be guarded, even the undergrounds. The distractions will leave near the parking lot near the police station, the infiltrators will do as they please." Stern and precise.
She headed first towards the deep freezer, she stopped at the middle of the freezer and casted a spell. The air vibrated and a door revealed itself on the floor. She pulled in up one one long strenuous process, showcasing the heaviness of the door. One by one the group proceeded to enter the underground.
The ladder's rungs groaned under Deva's weight. Below, the stench of wet rot and iron (sewage? blood?) thickened the air. Something scuttled in the dark-too large to be a rat. The rat's spine split-a human finger grafted where its tail should be. Deva crushed it. The finger wriggled, pointing at him before going still.
It was pitch black, only the glow of underground fireflies and luminous mushrooms could be seen in the serpentine underground passage. The groups was already well accustomed to this as they activated their eyes, a spell known to every rebel, a spell which the empire forbade its subjects to use. This was a spell called Night-eyes, developed by a rural wizard scholar. Seeing well into the night was disallowed by the Monarch, the Monarch wanted monopoly on the shadows, preaching that only He could give the right of sight in the darkness. He provided his elites and foot soldiers equipment called night-vision, a pair of goggles which functioned with minor mana stones. This huge difference in treating the dark was one of many that separated the empire, people who used Night-eyes could be tested through their developed eyes which learned to accommodate the spell and the mana, while the people who use Night-vision had their eyes strained by the lens in front of their eyes.
Deva's Night-eyes activated with a wet click-his pupils dilating unnaturally wide. Something scratched behind his optic nerve. The ISB's loyalty tattoos slithered like worms under his skin, punishing him for using rebel magic.
The underground caverns were less smoggy, a trickling of water could be heard everywhere, and a small stream of sewage and industrial waste flowed in the middle. The stench of sewage clung like a second skin . Rats skittered past boots, their eyes reflecting the rebels' dim lights. Tthe homeless, once made illegal had to shift to the underground, they knew how to hide and how to navigate. A large faction of homeless operated with the Resistance and provided information.
A figure emerged from the shadows-gaunt, eyes milky with cataracts. "Claire." He spat. "Sylum's crawling with Iron Grunts. They're waiting." A homeless man, yet, not so homeless as the other homeless. "Thank you for the information, and keeping an eye out." Claire responded and gave him a slip. The homeless informant's milky eyes rolled back. "The Seraphim… they sing when they kill. Like choirboys. But their mouths…" He gagged. "Too many teeth." The homeless person took off after the exchange.
As they walked for some time, Claire and her group stood by a ladder. While the rest of the infiltration group went ahead, as they pass by, they saluted each other and wished each other for the best.
The Operation starts in half an hour.
Deva's watch beeped. 00:30:00. The countdown seared his wrist. Georg's noose tightens