Vernii
02-11-2003, 00:34
OOC: This is going to be a short fic about various people in different parts of my society.
Chapter 1
Location: Warehouse district on the outskirts of the capital
Tom Johnson shivered in the chilly air, and zipped up his black leather jacket. Cardona's weather wasn't pleasant this time of year, and the city of 32 million seemed less bustling then usual. He lit up a cigarette and turned to go back inside the headquarters. He knocked four times on a metal door set into the side of the warehouse, and was let in. About thirty people sat around inside it, most with grim expressions. The flag of the Resistance hung from the ceiling, a clenched fist surrounded by stars upon a red background. Crates of ammunition lay scattered about the place, and racks of guns hung on the walls, mostly slugthrowers but with a few pulsers and plasma rifles mixed in. The smell of drugs, chemicals, and cigarette smoke hung in the air.
"Alright people, pay attention. InSec payed a visit last night to one of our safehouses. Most of the group made it out, but we lost about ten people. I hope that the ones who died are in a better place, and that those who were captured soon will be. Tomorrow we'll be relocating to another facility as this one's security may be compromised. Don't look like this was unexpected people, I told the Council this would happen when they approved taking out Walters, the government wasn't going passively accept us killing one of the President's Cabinet. But anyway, I want all of you to be careful. Anyone got any good news to report?"
A young man in his mid twenties spoke up. "Me and Butch took out a police air car a couple days ago, we were on the roof of Residential Tower 25 tapping into a com grid when it passed over. We shot an RPG into it. We had to run for it after that, but it was worth it." A young woman was next, "I put a bullet through the head of an informer earlier today. The guy was probably the one that ratted our safehouse out to InSec."
Johnson spoke again, "Good work then, hopefully that'll make other people thinking of turning into Informers pause. Small, steady blows are what will turn the tide, not large scale operations like Walters' assasination, when we don't have the ability to take hits like they do--" He was interrupted by a knock on the door of warehouse. Expressions of alarm appeared on the faces of most of rebels, and many of them quickly pulled out sidearms or grabbed automatic rifles. The door banged again, then a short silence followed by a thump. The door blew in, and they let loose a hail of gunfire into the breach, taking down two InSec grunts. Then an armored APC appeared, and the high pitched whine of a tribarrel filled the air as high caliber shells torn through the siding of the warehouse like cardboard. Resistance members died as shrapnel shot through their bodies, and one unlucky person's torso turned into splattered chunks of flesh as a shell tore through him. The tribarrel fire continued for about ten more seconds, killing about five more Resistance members before it ceased. InSec troops wearing light armor over their silver and black uniforms and carrying pulser rifles stormed through the breach, and the air again filled with the sounds of gunfire and the whine of hypervelocity pulser darts. Then it ended.
Johnson was huddled in a corner, a 9mm handgun with an empty magazine in his hand, gazing out in horror at the carnage of what had before been his group. Here and there was also the body of an InSec trooper, but most were his own men. A metal boot thumped down in front of him, and he slowly gazed upwards at the figure in power armor. "Here's one still alive, should I kill him?" a flat voice spoke. "Negative, capture for interrogation" A voice responded from elsewhere. The boot came up and connected with the side of his head, and blackness enveloped him.
OOC: For anyone wondering about what the references to Walters are about. Visit: http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?p=1706919
Chapter 1
Location: Warehouse district on the outskirts of the capital
Tom Johnson shivered in the chilly air, and zipped up his black leather jacket. Cardona's weather wasn't pleasant this time of year, and the city of 32 million seemed less bustling then usual. He lit up a cigarette and turned to go back inside the headquarters. He knocked four times on a metal door set into the side of the warehouse, and was let in. About thirty people sat around inside it, most with grim expressions. The flag of the Resistance hung from the ceiling, a clenched fist surrounded by stars upon a red background. Crates of ammunition lay scattered about the place, and racks of guns hung on the walls, mostly slugthrowers but with a few pulsers and plasma rifles mixed in. The smell of drugs, chemicals, and cigarette smoke hung in the air.
"Alright people, pay attention. InSec payed a visit last night to one of our safehouses. Most of the group made it out, but we lost about ten people. I hope that the ones who died are in a better place, and that those who were captured soon will be. Tomorrow we'll be relocating to another facility as this one's security may be compromised. Don't look like this was unexpected people, I told the Council this would happen when they approved taking out Walters, the government wasn't going passively accept us killing one of the President's Cabinet. But anyway, I want all of you to be careful. Anyone got any good news to report?"
A young man in his mid twenties spoke up. "Me and Butch took out a police air car a couple days ago, we were on the roof of Residential Tower 25 tapping into a com grid when it passed over. We shot an RPG into it. We had to run for it after that, but it was worth it." A young woman was next, "I put a bullet through the head of an informer earlier today. The guy was probably the one that ratted our safehouse out to InSec."
Johnson spoke again, "Good work then, hopefully that'll make other people thinking of turning into Informers pause. Small, steady blows are what will turn the tide, not large scale operations like Walters' assasination, when we don't have the ability to take hits like they do--" He was interrupted by a knock on the door of warehouse. Expressions of alarm appeared on the faces of most of rebels, and many of them quickly pulled out sidearms or grabbed automatic rifles. The door banged again, then a short silence followed by a thump. The door blew in, and they let loose a hail of gunfire into the breach, taking down two InSec grunts. Then an armored APC appeared, and the high pitched whine of a tribarrel filled the air as high caliber shells torn through the siding of the warehouse like cardboard. Resistance members died as shrapnel shot through their bodies, and one unlucky person's torso turned into splattered chunks of flesh as a shell tore through him. The tribarrel fire continued for about ten more seconds, killing about five more Resistance members before it ceased. InSec troops wearing light armor over their silver and black uniforms and carrying pulser rifles stormed through the breach, and the air again filled with the sounds of gunfire and the whine of hypervelocity pulser darts. Then it ended.
Johnson was huddled in a corner, a 9mm handgun with an empty magazine in his hand, gazing out in horror at the carnage of what had before been his group. Here and there was also the body of an InSec trooper, but most were his own men. A metal boot thumped down in front of him, and he slowly gazed upwards at the figure in power armor. "Here's one still alive, should I kill him?" a flat voice spoke. "Negative, capture for interrogation" A voice responded from elsewhere. The boot came up and connected with the side of his head, and blackness enveloped him.
OOC: For anyone wondering about what the references to Walters are about. Visit: http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?p=1706919