Reign

aptap tap, it was a gentle rhythm. Tap, it sang. Tap-tap, it whispered. The pendant of a woman's necklace, charred, ashen, beaten; a fragment of cloth caught in the wind; the melted husk of an action figure, wound up, snapping as it sputtered through its routine, struggling against the jagged edges of plastic warped by the heat. Poppop-pop, sang a response in the distance. Then again. And again. Each time faster than the last, perforated now by shouting and more replies in the distance. The replies grew louder, now echoing off the walls of the intact corridors branching out from the shattered terminal; and as they did, chaos had been stoked, not unlike the flames that still spread from the heart of the airship port. As they grew louder, and as the voices behind them grew clearer, it was evident that the explosion was but the curtain rising. A firefight had broken out. Standing at the foot of a hulking ship, Kaneda kept an ear turned toward the terminal, listening for anything to use, for whatever guidepost was present to usher the three others along safely. The gunfire was expected. Draw Arkadian security's attention, then hold it for as long as possible. Leave him and his to their task, THE task, the objective for which the toll had been paid. The ship imposed on the landscape, even with the chaos that swept the port in the distance, it managed to consume the backdrop. It was a full four or five times larger than the other ships around it, built from large beams of metal more than wood or plasteel. Even sleeping, so to speak, it flaunted a veritable arsenal. In the skies above Tellus Mater, the ship would have been absent equal. It was a testament to the military might of the Alterion regime and the Masons behind the curtain. Here in the port, silent, it bared its fangs, but like the four mounds of soldiers that were heaped at the foot its ramp, it had been found wanting. The distraction had called enough attention away. Little more than a token force. That was all that awaited them, to be dealt quickly, silently, and preferably without loss. “We-- we're in,” the voice trembled from a few feet away. Tully, he said his name was. He'd been uncomfortable with the anonymity. The other two hadn't shared the sentiment. But, Kaneda felt a pang of pity; the four of them dealt with stress differently. Kaneda had long since honed the rush of adrenaline into a dagger. The other two bottled it up, shooting looks over their shoulders into the cold. They offered distrust and clung tightly to the hope that they'd escape the night. Tully, on the other hand, resigned himself to it, seeking companionship, even at the cost of being known and diminishing the hope of ever returning home. Kaneda gave Tully a nod. It wasn't pity, no. It was admiration. And regret. With a pop-hiss, the door lifted to the darkness of the hold.

ommy." A young mother, maybe in her early thirties, scoured through a bag filled with loose papers and photos. Her brows furled and her lips pursed into a frown. She could feel it; they were already late. Their airship had begun boarding almost twenty minutes ago, and the final call had just rung through the intercom in this terminal. The cold, robotic voice droned, “The airship bound for La Guardia, Renovatio is set to depart in ten minutes,” those last two words stung the most, “Doors will be closing momentarily.” "Moooommmm." The pressure only mounted; she could feel the sweat pouring from her palms, dampening each paper that wasn’t her ticket as she pushed past them, “Riva be damned,” she whispered under her breath. This was only the first checkpoint; they’d have to shoot down to the end of the terminal to catch the final door. The pile of documents, of every sort, of her entire life in Alterion, was neverending. “Mommmmmy,” the annoyed tone finally grabbed her attention. “Hold on baby, we can talk once we’re through.” "But mooooom—." She’d done her best, but the stress broke the dam of frustration already teetering on the edge, “Not now, damn it!” "But mommy, there’s a man over there doin’ somethin’ weeeird.." “Found it!” And all in a moment, the stress fell away and relief washed over her. She must have had a good hundred pages of immigration documents stashed in her bag, but from the mess, pulled a single printed sheet. An antique practice, sure. But their inability to afford a simple mounted LED display of any kind was the very reason they were leaving. And fortunately, it looked like they’d just make it to the gate, barely. "Mommy!." She finally turned to the young boy clinging to her right hip. He stood there pointing in the distance. His mother sighed and stooped down to meet him eye-level, “What is it, Tomas?” Tomas had always had a proclivity for being curious. There was nothing that ever missed his gaze, and he was sure to point out every little detail to his mother (“Mommy, there’s a booger on the ceiling”— “Mommy, why does the sun turn red when it goes down?”— “Mommy, why is that lady sitting on her suitcase?”— “Mommy, why do farts smell like cheese?”— “Mommy, if farts smell like cheese, does that mean they taste like cheese, too?”). And this was no different, of course. She expected to look up and see some man doing any mundane task. And yes, it was always a mundane task. So, what she saw caught her off guard. Completely. Her jaw dropped and brow creased; what was she even l— Not nothing because the thought stopped. Well, not exactly, stopped. More like interrupted. And not just her thoughts, but those of Tomas, of the security agent stamping her ticket, of the line of frustrated passengers squirming and checking their watches behind her, having no time to get hung up by an ill-prepared mother and her son. Most of them were never given the opportunity to feel the interruption, not as the ball of fire engulfed the wing that made up this terminal, as caustic, scalding air compressed against the sudden change in pressure. The bustle of the terminal was muted against the thunderous boom that steamrolled over it, of the glass shattering into microscopic fragments, nearly aerosolized in the inferno that swallowed anything still standing for a good hundred meters in every direction. Even as the environmental control systems kicked on in an attempt to douse the blaze, there was no relenting. Just the manafed blaze that spread, stubborn, in the face of any attempt for humanity. Kaneda heard it in the distance. He felt the rumble bounce the truck in its march, like hitting a speed bump too fast. The other three men recoiled, ducking down or yelping in surprise. He could see one go squeamish as color fled his face and a sickly pallor preempted an immediate vacation of his dinner on the metal bottom of their box. He didn't have time to care. The explosion was a good kilometer away. A smoke screen, and a massive one. That meant a tight window to act in and a great number of eyes falling on their destination if only a short distance from their objective. And as the truck screeched to a halt and the rear hatch shot open, the last bit of meaning casually fell before them— Arkadia Prime's terminal was ablaze. And a toll had been paid, one that wrenched Kaneda's gut as instinct carried him to feet and propelled from the vehicle. He'd have to bury the feeling again. No time to feel.

[ Update ]Images fixed

he pitch of night was broken by strands of pale white light scanning through the hold. Each pass cast apprehension on those therein; each falling just two seconds from the last, a rhythm had formed. And that rhythm had taken the form of a stopwatch, counting away as seconds fell away into minutes, and minutes lingered as a reminder that action was just moments away. There were three others there with him. They'd been brought in for any number of reasons, for their talents. They'd been told they were to be instrumental in the cause. He was certain, however, that instrumental actually meant expendable. They'd been told little else. Each had been given their own objective: vague. Only granted enough clarity to ensure the job was done as intended. Kaneda’s was brief. No, concise. Familiar. “Buy them time,” it read. Three words scrawled onto the page in a cipher only he had, peppered with coordinates that correlated to a time and place, with a single sigil at the end to indicate a need for secrecy. There was a great deal to infer from the message, the least of which was the expectation this was to be a one-way ticket. And, his gut uttered the sentiment that he was the only one with anything to infer at all. Perhaps by virtue of faith in his skills, perhaps because the rebellion knew this was the type of mission he'd sought as of late. After all, the cause was in need of martyrs, what with the state Alterion these days. And it wasn't just the sentiment of secrecy. The cabin had all but been blacked out by design. The slats that gave way to the little light above were only there because the four of them had to breathe long enough to complete their task. Nothing had been given that wasn't imperative, either— the wall of darkness up bettween the inhabitants of the cabin was by design. Whatever fat politician stuffing his ego behind his desk wanted the piercing, cold steel of silence walled between them. There was no want, no need, no room for camaraderie today, for camaraderie bred dependence, bled emotion, fed doubt. And hesitation was not on the day's agenda. The little Kaneda could glean from the others as the banner of light cast through the room was green. They weren't soldiers. They might have been believers, sure. But they were recruited because they brought little value to the rebellion past today. Given their apparent age, given the way their hearts raced at every bump on the road— after each and every turn, after the groan of metal beneath their feet —they were not only new to this, they were the sort to be missed. No one had trained them for today, likely because the one skill they had was thought to be enough. Even the way they sat was telling. The way they squirmed, the way they glanced over their shoulders, they had people they loved that they left behind, and they had every intention of returning. A wife, kids? It was all familiar. These three other men were pawns to be played in a grander game. A message of defiance. He should have known the moment he’d received the note that this was where things were headed, and perhaps he had. Perhaps it was for that precise reason he was here. As the only thing between the three of them and oblivion.