Thinking back to that night, I don't remember much. The details become blurry when the moment has passed. It all happened so fast, I didn't have time to think, or even react.
I remember them, the time we spent together that night. I remember fear, and adrenaline. Dark hallways and strange passages. I remember being confused by the map. It's a different experience when you're studying blueprints from the comfort of your bed.
I remember smoke and fire, the cool, fresh night air. But mostly, I remember him. His hand taking mine before I could pull it away. I remember Jin calling my name as I was dragged away. He looked kind of silly in that clothing with that sword strapped around his back, but he felt threatening and dangerous too. I remember him holding me in his arms as I struggled to break free...
I remember wishing I had died that night, instead of them...
Jin fumbled with the explosives, his adrenaline raging out of control, and his nerves resting on the edge of insanity. They were about to kill a lot of people, regular employees, not just the corrupt masterminds.
The lighting was dim, the air was hot and heavy, and the generator produced a loud, mechanical hum that only added to the pressure of the situation.
He placed the bundled dynamite with a timed device strapped to it in one of the grooves of the massive, noisy machine. He hit detonate, and was startled to see a ten second timer begin to count down.
His mind raced. His black market contact assured him they were set up for a ten minute timer. Jin had stressed the importance of that more than once, and he had clearly been screwed.
He began to panic. As he stood up, he heard Ana shout his name to his horror and dismay. He looked over at her, thinking to himself that it couldn't have been any worse.
Ana stood helplessly, confused and concerned by the look of horror on Jin's face. She had read the map all wrong. She got scared and got ahead of herself, ended up at the first generator room instead of the second.
She blew it. Botched everything.
She felt a hand firmly grab her own, yanking her backwards. Jin screamed her name as she resisted and turned to face her captor.
He was a young man with long blonde hair, and striking blue eyes. He wore a long decorative sword across his back with black slacks, and a navy tunic under red heavy armor that covered his left breast, arm, and hand. His attire was barbaric and primitive to her, although she could find exotic beauty in the craftsmanship. It had a single, sapphire blue strip of decorative cloth that hung from the rear shoulder of the plate armor, which was extended in the back to further protect the wearer's vitals, and facilitate his sword's sheath.
He was an outsider, no way he worked for Zenobia Prime.
She struggled, protesting her being dragged away and parted from Jin when she knew something was wrong.
"No!"
No sooner did the word escape her lips and the thought crossed her mind, an explosion jarred her body and senses, thrusting Ana and her captor into the solid steel wall.
Rubble pelted her body as smoke and dust filled the dark corridors. She nearly lost consciousness, and felt him hoist her over his shoulder, carrying her the rest of the way.
As she came around she began to sob, calling Jin's name, realizing he was dead, and she had left him behind.
He struggled up a sewer ladder, and let her down as they reached the cool night air. She scrambled to her feet and tried to run back toward the smoking manhole, but he wrapped his arms around her, and held her tight.
They both fell to their knees as she wept in his arms, resisting him.
"He's gone," he said softly, "he's gone..."
*****
"It's about choice my friends. The choice to live free of oppression, and corruption. To be afforded the same protection, securities, luxuries and privileges as those who live in the core.
We must rise above our oppressors and fight for our freedom. Storm the gates, spill the blood of our brothers who have forgotten and abandoned us. Locked us out, and cast us aside.
They've written us off my brothers and sisters! They've turned their backs on us, and built their walls and towers high. But this I say to you, my friends, my comrades: take for yourselves what is fair and right. Always we will fight. Light of day or dark of night. Always freedom in our sight...
Never back down, there are fellow freedom fighters all around you, hidden in plain sight. Seek and you will find. Keep the faith, have hope and courage. Stay smart, and you will be fighting the fight all the same. Our enemy is clever, and strong... But so are we, in our own right. In fact, we are even stronger! This is Stryker, coming to you from your one and only, Rebel Radio..."
All across the slums, millions of radios were tuned in to Stryker's transmission.
He was the faceless leader of a desperate, broken city. A symbol of hope and freedom, a voice of truth.
He was their hero...
~ AUTO-MERGED POSTS ~
Ana's head was spinning, her heart was pounding, and her stomach was squirming as he lead her through a series of dark, unfamiliar backstreets in the slums. He held her hand tightly, aggressively, and belted her mind with a lengthy speech giving her information and instructions.
"Listen to me carefully, Ana. They'll come for you, and they'll never be too far behind you. Zenobia isn't safe anymore. They'll find out who you are, kill your friends and family, everyone you know and love until they find you, or leave you so broken and far from Zenobia you might as well be dead... Head east, through the desert. It's a long haul, but help and water will accompany the road east until you reach Odessa. I'll meet you there at the inn."
He stopped and turned to face her. "They know who I am and they are already looking for me, so I can't be near you until we reach Odessa. You have a chance to escape. Find an old friend, someone you don't see often. Lay low until morning and then get out of Zenobia. Do you understand?" he asked her intently.
She didn't respond, still in pain, shock, and mourning.
He shook her gently. "Zenobia isn't safe anymore!" he yelled as he walked backwards away from her. "Odessa Inn!"
"What's your name?!" she asked him before he was out of sight in the dark, gritty backstreets.
He stopped, turning around, "... Edge," he replied, disappearing down an alleyway.
*****
Stryker was finished shutting his equipment down to go silent for the night, and stop his transmission to prevent the Ducrinus Administration from locating the source. His transmissions were short, to stop Lucious from getting a trace on his location. The operation had remained hidden for years, spanning nearly a decade, and reaching hundreds of thousands of Zenobians, desperate for the truth, desperate for hope, for a leader to follow. Someone to inspire them, bring their dreams of freedom and a better life a little closer to reality.
A knock fell upon the heavy iron door of his secluded, hidden home. He turned his head quickly, letting his right hand rest on the handle of a pistol he wore around his thigh.
He was a tall, lean man with Long black hair that hung over a red bandana in spikes and locks. At the back of his head, his hair was tied in a bushy ponytail.
He approached the door slowly. No one should have been at his door at all, let alone at this hour, just after a broadcast. You couldn't run from Agents, but he was prepared to fight his way into an escape, or die a martyr, either was fine with him. He'd fought for Ducrinus, witnessed and committed horrors that still haunted him. But he realized the error of his ways, and devoted the rest of his life to making a difference. To resisting the Ducrinus Administration, and bringing the truth to the Zenobian people. He could die knowing he did what he could, but of course, that was plan B.
He slid the cover away from the tiny peephole and saw what looked like a tiny blonde angel shivering in the nippy evening air.
He unlocked the door in three different places and opened it quickly. A beautiful young woman stood before him, shaking gently, with tears streaming down her perfect cheeks.
"Ana," he said with surprised confusion and concern for the state she was in, or even that she'd shown up at his door.
She swallowed so she could speak, but the words were strangled by the grief in her voice, "Jin's dead."
*****
Ana sat on Stryker's old, musty orange sofa. It matched the rusted, oxidized iron walls of his humble little abode. A hoarse brown blanket was thrown across her shoulders, and she held a cup of hot cocoa in her hands. She was distraught, distant, and weeping softly.
Stryker sat across from her on the edge of a desk, arms crossed. He gazed upon her with heartbreaking compassion. She was just a girl, no older than twenty-two. She was sweet, innocent, and so beautiful. She deserved so much better from life, from herself. She was the most unlikely resistance fighter he could picture in his mind. She should have gone to university, met a nice boy from the core who could give her a nice life. She was Zenobia's very own long lost Princess. How she ended up at his door that night, he could only imagine.
"What happened, Ana," he asked softly, his rough exterior brushing the surface of his tone.
She wept harder, "We tried to hit Zenobia Prime, and," she tried to explain, but he cut her off, raising his voice. "Wait - that was you? Ana, what happened?"
She looked up at him, shaking and replied, "Something went wrong, their all dead. Jin, Kato... Willow." She burst into tears, lowering her head. "And I wanted to stay - I wanted to, but he wouldn't let me!"
"Who wouldn't let you?"
"Edge!" she yelled back, looking up at him.
Stryker stood up. "Edge Widowmaker?!"
Ana lowered her head again, and Stryker began to pace back and forth in front of her.
"Oh god, Ana. This guy is dangerous! He's not to be trusted. You're lucky he didn't..."
Ana looked up at him again and said, "No, Stryker it's not like that, he saved my life!"
"Edge Widowmaker only 'saves' lives when he has something to gain. Thought that son of a bitch was dead by now."
Ana stood up, placing the cocoa on the small coffee table. "I have to go, I have to get to Odessa," she said frantically.
Stryker squinted his gaze and approached her. "What?! No, Ana!"
"Yes, he'll know where Willow is, right? He probably saved her too. I have to go." She headed for the door, but Stryker grabbed her right arm, pulling her close to him, and wrapped his right arm around her gently.
"You're not going anywhere, kid. Not tonight."
She turned into his chest and let all of her pain, sorrow, and guilt flow freely.
He felt awkward, being almost twice her age, yet being secretly attracted to her since he first saw her face when Jin introduced them. Still he held her. Still he comforted her and stroked her silky blonde hair as she dumped the weight of her shattered heart onto his chest.
~ AUTO-MERGED POSTS ~
(I can't stop, and it's getting juicy)
"Who is she?" Sarovoc asked sternly, eyes sharp as a hawk, breathing heavily as he entered his security chamber. A team of five men worked tirelessly at keyboards, on headsets glued to security monitors. They had full access to Zenobia's security cam feeds, and phone lines. They were Sarovoc's eyes and ears inside and out of the compound, and the core up until you reach the outer-most stretches of it's slums and districts, where there were no telephones, or cameras.
Sarovoc was a tall, well built man in his mid-thirties with medium length black hair.. He had pale skin and frosty blue eyes that radiated confidence and arrogance. He wore a long black coat over a simple white dress shirt and held a sword in his left hand. He was obsessed with swordsmanship, it was his rush. That one thing that makes your blood pump, your adrenaline flow, and your heart race. The thrill of close combat, steel on steel, and blade on flesh. One man's will thrust against another in a duel to the death. He simply lived for it, however deprived of it he may have been in Zenobia.
Vicks sat at the center console, manipulating the video footage of Ana making her way through the basement of Zenobia Prime, trying to zoom on each angle. He had isolated images of the embroidery on her jacket sitting on other small monitors around the main screen, and a still of her face in the moments before Jin's death.
"She's just a girl," Vicks replied indifferently.
Sarovoc cut him off shouting, "Name, citizen ID number, aliases, residency!"
"We know she's from the slums, she has no ID number, sir."
"How did you track her, these emblems?"
"We followed her on the grid until we lost her near District 83."
Sarovoc leaned forward as Vicks brought up the feed of Edge holding her outside of Zenobia Prime.
"And who's this other little piss-ant who tried to kill me?" Sarovoc asked with both malice and intrigue.
"We think that's the kid who calls himself Edge Widowmaker."
Sarovoc chuckled and allowed a grin. "I've been hearing about him. Little mutt's fifteen minutes just expired."
Vicks chuckled, sat back and crossed his arms. "Someone should let the kid know he's dead."
Sarovoc glanced down at Vicks, allowing another grin, and back at the screen. "Literally."
He turned around, walking away. "Lock the city down!"
*****
I once knew a girl who used to say, "Anything truly great comes from a humble beginning."
She was right.
Back then I didn't believe in anything, didn't even believe in myself. Somewhere in my adventurous youth I had lost sight of who I was, where I had come from, and who I was destined to be.
She changed all of that. Without even trying, without even knowing it; she inspired us all to create a better version of ourselves, to create a better world...
Edge charged down a dark, narrow ally. His breathing was heavy and his heart threatened to blow as it pounded in his chest. In the distance, the sound of sirens pitched across the sky as soldiers flooded the streets, searching high and low for the escaped terrorists.
They blocked all exits into and out of Zenobia, setting up check points to monitor and regulate all traffic leaving both the core, and the slums. Soldiers operating large armored vehicles and mobile missile deployment trucks lingered at the check points and stalked the streets while homes and businesses were raided and searched.
The streets were still relatively busy. It was late evening yet, and light traffic and crowds still roamed the streets of the outer slums. Edge had reached one of the main streets in Zenobia, stretching from the southern most point of the city, spanning north for miles into the core's high class downtown districts.
He lurked in the shadows, sizing up the street.
There were citizens on the opposite side walking north, and a group of three teenagers heading south on his side of the road. Beyond them he set his gaze on a lone Zenobian soldier riding a hover bike designed for desert travel.
The soldier was approaching slowly, intimidating the people with the slow, menacing crawl of his iron horse as he patrolled the streets of the slums. The kids were approaching too fast, and they would end up between him and the soldier by the time Edge had the chance to make his move.
He spread his back against the wall, taking full cover of the shadows and waited the situation out.
As they grew closer, he could make out the conversation they were having.
"I say they're just muscling us so they can build their reactors," a young man said to the others, hands buried in his pockets as he strolled down the street.
"Wouldn't surprise me one bit," another boy said cynically, smoking a cigarette.
A young girl walked between them. She seemed to have more energy than the boys, more spunk in her spirit.
"Whatever," she said, snatching the cigarette from the cynic's lips, flicking it into the street.
"Hey, Shestah!"
At that moment the trooper called out to the kids and turned his bike toward them, pulling closer to the sidewalk.
The three teens turned around, and when they matched eyes with a Zenobian soldier, the cynical smoker attempted to bolt south down the street. As he turned to make an honest break for home, Edge emerged from the shadows with haste and force, pushing the poor kid aside. He bumped into Shestah as Edge rushed an unexacting trooper, smacking him across the face with the blunt side of his sword, swinging with all his might.
The trooper hit the pavement, unconscious and Edge mounted the bike, pushing it's small engine to the limit.
Shestah and her companions stood in awe as he raced down the street, cutting an intersection fiercely before disappearing out of sight.
"Holy shit," Shestah said plainly, a twinkle of admiration shining in her big brown eyes.
"We should go," the cynical smoker said with both fear and excitement, looking down at the KO'd Zenobian trooper.
"Yea!" the other boy replied quickly, and three ran away into the night leaving the trooper there in the street.
*****
Negative, I'm on foot. Guy stole my unit. Son of a bitch broke my nose, I need a medic."
"Copy that, trooper. He just jumped our check-point. Smooth move, asshole."
Sarovoc stood beside a large brown horse preparing to mount it. He wore an ear piece with a small microphone listening to the conversation.
He froze, closing his eyes and let a sigh pass from his lips.
"Stand down."
"Copy that, sir."
Sarovoc walked away from the horse, leaving the stable. He dialed a number into a hand-held device and awaited an answer.
"Hello?"
"Victor."
"Sarovoc..."
"We have a situation..."
*****
"Let me see if I understand this correctly," Lucious said with arrogance. "Some savage outsider tried to kill you, then escaped. Mean-while four kids from the slums tried to blow up Zenobia Prime?"
Sarovoc stood before his brother, looking around with irritation. He was defensive and annoyed.
He nodded. Locking eyes with Lucious.
Lucious was an older man with grey hair and an aged, wrinkling face. He wore a fine suit with a long black coat. His gaze was scrutinizing, and his brow stern.
"Deal with this yourself, brother. I have greater concerns than four dead kids in your basement," Lucious said as he got up from his seat, walking past Sarovoc.
Sarovoc sighed, lowering his head.
"All four aren't dead," he said with a sense of shame and failure.
Lucious stopped, closing his eyes, lifting his head with annoyed frustration.
"What happened Sarovoc?"
"The mercenary helped one of them escape."
Lucious spun around swiftly, scolding Sarovoc with his cold eyes. The same eyes their father used to scold them with. Hector was a prick, a real violent, judgement bastard. He didn't let up until the day he died, clawing his way into the afterlife over a three day period struggling on life support. And even today the scars he left on their mind and body still haunted them, judging and picking apart their every move from the shallow grave he lay in. No one mourned the loss of Hector Ducrinus, because he had stricken anyone he had met with resent and hatred.
"I'm in the process of locating them now," Sarovoc explained, holding Edge's escape from the city close to his chest. He wasn't game for the condescending bullshit he'd inevitably face from his brother. Truth was, deep down inside he hated Lucious, and resented his being made Emperor based on age alone when he believed he was better suited to lead Zenobia.
Lucious was so disgusted he didn't even speak, only gave him a fatal look that was both immanent and threatening as he turned from him and walked away.
Sarovoc gritted his teeth, feeling a wave of rage in Lucious' wake. He dialed a number and waited for an answer.
"Lyra here."
"Find the boy!" he yelled with hatred. "He dies, you die with him. I want him alive so I can watch him die myself!"
He hung up in Agent Lyra's ear, throwing his hand-held device against a large window that overlooked Zenobia from thousands of feet in the air
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