[Open] The Ghosts of the Past

[Raksha]

24th Roalis, 2720
THE HOW | EARLY EVENING

“How is she?” A woman's voice asked quietly, her voice soft from the other side of a privacy curtain made out of old potato sacks, drawn closed to give some semblance of separation, the red printed branding running over them like some curious pattern.
​​
​​It woke the Wisp, like climbing out of a thick fog, her eyes opening slowly—well one at least. The other was bruised and swollen, much like the rest of her.
​​
​​It had been a handful of days maybe, since Alyssa had turned up at the Book and Bell with an almost unrecognisable Serro in the back of a young man’s carriage. She didn’t remember much after the disaster our rescue, snippets of sounds and words. Vaguely she recalled panicked cries, calling to Stu, asking him where Jon was.
​​
​​She looked around the small alcove that was a makeshift medical bay, the old red bricks from the tunnels damp with the cool air that permeated the How. Her right arm was aching, and felt tight against her body. Alyssa pulled the covers away and sat up carefully, looking down at it with a frown. It had broken, that was certain, but the extent of the break she hadn’t known. Even now, wrapped in clay hardened bandages and a sling, the brunette wasn’t sure how bad it was.
​​
​​ “Better, I think. Arm’s not hot anymore, that stuff Doc gave us looks to be fixing it up. Probably not as good as—” It was Stu’s voice, lowered and weary, choking up as he tried to speak. The other—Ginny for sure—made a soft sound.
​​
​​ “Oh aye. Not as good.” A pause.
​​
​​ “And Jon?” Alyssa’s head lifted at the name, heart in her chest as the voices faded. They were moving away from her. Coming to her feet carefully, the Wisp pushing the curtain aside to look at the hallway they disappeared down. She followed, catching them both in one of the larger back rooms, ignorant to whoever else might be there.
​​
​​ “Where is he?” She croaked, her voice hoarse from lack of use and recent conciousness. Ginny spun to look at her with wide green eyes, and cautiously raised hands to placate the woman.
​​
​​ “Alyssa, rosh. Take it easy now, ye chen? Ye we're pretty ba—” The assassin turned from her to fix Stu with a firm look.
​​
​​ “Stu. Where is Jon.” It wasn’t a question, the young witch seeing there’d be no discussion until Alyssa saw him. She tch’ed, looking at Stu who was almost glowering at the Wisp.
​​
​​ “What were you thinking Alyssa?!” The woman frowned in return, her blue eyes hard.
​​
​​ “There was no other option. I couldn't risk Jon’s life, or yours. Easier job with just—.” The look on the barkeep’s face was one of restrained anger and dismay.
​​
​​ “But you could risk Red’s?” Alyssa blinked, looking at Stu in silence for a moment before glancing at Ginny who’s lip trembled dangerously. It was all the information she needed, taking a second to steel her heart against the grief of knowledge.
​​
​​ “Red knew the risk. She knew.” There was a flat steadiness in her voice, a void where emotions meant vulnerability. Her eyes looked down, brow drawn.
​​
​​ “Who else knows?” Alyssa said quietly.
​​
​​ “Well, I guess now everyone who’s here.” Stu snorted, waving at those who’d he’d gathered to discuss matters of importance. Those who were considered close enough to know why the Wisp had been carried through the How, or who had seen a filthy bloodied body in Stu’d arms.
​​
​​ “And me.” A thick, raspy voice sounded from the room they argued in, only then the assassin looking up at the faces gathered there. She glanced at each of them, noticing Emelia in the mix and there in a chair fashioned of metal and wheels, wrapped in bandages and looking like Naulanon had a hand on his shoulder was Jon Serro, his missing eye still uncovered and legs covered in a blanket.
​​
​​And he looked furious.
​​

[Gale]

The How | Early Evening

24 ROALIS 2720

There was the faint distant drip, muffled by the sounds of distant machinery whirling far away. The lanterns groaned on their hooks, gently swaying too and fro - enough to cause the shadows to tilt against the red brick and the inhabitants that dwelled within the How. Moisture hung in the air, the faint cold damp that would seep into whatever it could claw its way into, yet soothing against the residual heat caused by foul tempers and angered moods.

Gunner was no exception; they did their best to keep their emotions behind the cold steel mask, the careful, measured inhales to turn their heart to metal - to be unflinching, unmoving and focus only on the forward. But this metal was hot, stuck hard and long into the furnace and now it was glowing, waiting to be hammered into shape. What exactly the gunsmith did not know, but the steel around their face and the hood covering their head hid the most of their expression. Not that they were sure what it was they were feeling, tumultuous, hot, ready to melt things with a mere look. They released the pressure of their clenched teeth, the gloved hands quietly at work rolling up wax paper cartridges and placing the small copper cap on the end.

It was a good way to keep their hands busy during their hours of waiting - how many exactly, Gunner was not sure. Half a day? More? The tunnels had a strange effect on the perception and passage of time.

It was not a complete surprise something had happened, or more correctly Gunner knew Wisp was up to something, but the details were sparse and the opportunity to ask questions was missed. The result, however? No, there was little thought in these actions - a person acting on pure instinct with little forward planning and clearly not understanding that actions had consequences.

Their shoulder pinched a little then, a small pinch in complaint to the damp. Gunner pushed the sensation aside, it was not important right now.

No, what was important was to deal with the fall out of the stupidity the second in command of the resistance committed. By the conversation Wisp had awoken, Gunner gave a tilting turn of the head in acknowledgement. They straightened, peeling away from the wall they were leaning against the last of the cartridges were rolled and slipped beneath the waxed canvas poncho. The familiar press of Liberator in a shoulder holster beneath the layers served as a reassurance; for what exactly Gunner was not sure. Power, control, the knowledge they could go out fighting?

The thought was pushed aside. Silent they prowled the edges, around past the back of Jon Serro - or at least whatever ghost he was - and eased themself into a position at the edge of the light. The steel mask reflected the expressions back, a brief turn of the head back to the broken man, their palms itching. There was a lot of questions, a lot of raw, blunted rage waiting to spill out into the confines of the How. Weak personalities ready to clash against one another, ripping and tearing to achieve what?

They gave him a curt nod.

"Serro."

Jon Serro was alive. Somewhat at least. Probably wished he was dead judging by the grimace on his face. An unmasked fury ready to be unleashed. Whether or not it was something sensible would be a matter of time.

For Gunner though, they had to articulate. They had to be better than the rest of them.

The Gunsmith let out a long, deep sigh, the sound whistling between the grill of the steel mask. The hands rose, speaking in sign while the monotone voice, shredded from their usual accent, crept between the gaps.

"I was once told, that all actions have consequences." It was slow, measured, each word carefully weighed before being thrown into the proverbial furnace. "None are exempt from this rule. Not even you, Wisp."

There was only a brief glance to Serro, before the hard edge in Gunner's voice crept around - the hands continuing to move as they spoke.

"Did you not once consider opening up your narrow, little mind to the bigger picture?" The hands curled inwards then, tensing as knuckles cracked. "You could have asked for help and so many would have willingly helped. I would have helped you. We could have worked together. You knew that; you still know that. Do not play coy on it, do not lie to yourself. You did not think. You did not plan. You went and acted with disregard to others at what cost? Is that all the cadets are to you, just another number?"

"Why did you not ask for help? Why? Pride? Glory? Greed? Did you just want to play the lone hero and save the day?"

Heat, they could feel it along the inside of their mask.

"We are all more than just one person. We are the many, we are strong united and you know together we can prove that nothing is certain."

Gunner turned their attention to the others, a forcing shift of focus to cold hard facts.

"What is the current death count?"

[Aodh Elzo]

24th Roalis, 2720
THE HOW | EARLY EVENING

Aodh had been in a meeting with the small Resistance cell he worked with from time to time when heard the news.

Something had happened, the details were sparse, but when he heard a number of high ranking Resistance members had been wounded, perhaps mortally, Wisp's name amongst them he headed to the How.

On the way through the humid tunnels his mind roiled, with the death of Serro, the Wisp was the closest thing the Resistance had to a leader, at least as far as Aodh reckoned it. Without her they were as good as rudderless.

By the time he arrived his mind was full of thoughts of darkness shot through with fire.

As he approached the thick tension in the air cut through his thoughts and brought him out of himself.

He caught the tail end of a harsh voice asking for a death toll. Aodh stopped, still partly in shadow, his sharp eyes scanned the makeshift medical bay and the face's there.

His relief at seeing the Wisp alive was overwhelmed by the utter shock of the last face he saw. It was Jon Serro, badly beaten and bandaged, but alive!

"Havakda!"

The curse jumped out of his mouth in a shocked rush, before he even realised he'd take the breath to speak it.

Unfortunately it was in the flat silence after Gunner's rasped question and a number of eyes snapped at Aodh. The silence seemed to deepen briefly.

Outwardly Aodh was cool and unruffled, inside however he screamed and wished the floor would open up and swallow him up. The wild haired wick nodded slightly to those assembled and said his voice even.

"Serro."

[Tobias Murdock]

24th Roalis 2720

Tobias remained silent while Gunner berated the Wisp. The smooth steel mask obscuring the figure's face made them all the more intimidating and Tobias was glad the harsh words weren't directed at him. Arms crossed over his chest he glanced at the Wisp and couldn't help but think she did her name proud considering how pale and ghost-like she now appeared. It was hard to believe she was the same bloodied, wide-eyed woman who'd come barging into the Book and Bell several days ago, out of breath and begging for help, not for herself but for Jon Serro.

Tobias's gaze fell onto the grizzled man in the chair like it had many times before. He'd helped carry the man out of the carriage and though he'd long since washed the bloodstains off, his fingers still remembered how thin and light the man had been to carry. The great Jon Serro that he'd dreamt of meeting was an old, malnourished looking man who'd been all but broken by his previous hosts. It was hard to tell just how much of him was still intact and Tobias hadn't dared to ask, but ever since they put Jon Serro into that special chair he'd suspected the man had been robbed of his ability to ever walk again.

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Tobias looked between the Wisp and the imposing Gunner but couldn't push his thoughts past the lump in his throat. He knew he wasn't supposed to be there, it was nothing more than an accident that he'd been in the Book and Bell when it had all happened. And now he was here, somewhere underground, not because he'd earned being taken to the How but because he'd been at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Or maybe the right place at the right time.

He'd always wanted to see the How, to meet Jon Serro, and until recently the former had seemed far out of reach and the latter impossible, but now that both his desires had been fulfilled he almost wished they hadn't been. The great Jon Serro was a cripple long past his best days and the mighty How was little more than a glorified cave. Was this the great resistance? A ragtag band of people hiding like mice in the crevices of the earth? Perhaps it would have been better to never have learned, to simply have remained above ground putting up pamphlets for an army that didn't exist.

Sighing quietly he looked to the Firebrand who seemed calm though his curse had betrayed him. This wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation between allies, the air was laden with things yet unsaid, like a thick cloud growing heavy with rain before a thunderstorm.

And he was stuck in the middle of it, unable to contribute anything, yet also unable to leave. He knew too much and even though no one had yet told him to his face, he knew clocking well why he'd been kept down here, because all it would take was one slip of the tongue and all the world would know Jon Serro was still alive.

The silence that followed Firebrand's pointed words was filled with a small, unsteady voice. "I- I think you did the right thing," Tobias said, his eyes briefly flickering up to meet the Wisp before falling back down to staring at his feet. "Jon's more important than any of us."

[Raksha]

24th Roalis, 2720
THE HOW | EARLY EVENING

“Jon, I—” Alyssa blinked, caught off guard, her face revealing the mix of relief and distress welling within. The assassin looked him over, searching the thin and frail man to understand the extent of his health. Her last view of him had been bloodied and torn flesh, broken and battered bones, a barely living corpse. Even now here in this room, cleaned up and healing, the great Jon Serro looked like nothing more than some old man just a chilled night away from death.

Why would he be so mad at her? Didn’t he understand what she’d done?

Blue eyes shifted to Gunner’s mask, dark circles under her eyes stark against the paleness of feverish skin. The break had been healing, no doubt, but without magic and with the best of what they had on hand. She felt the throbbing of hot skin underneath the cast, and ignored it.

“No I…of course I didn’t. It was better, easier, to do it with a small team. It was a suicide mission. I couldn’t…I didn’t want to…”

What is the current death count?

The brunette blinked, looking at Stu who stared back at her. She turned to Ginny, who shifted uncomfortably and glanced away. Emelia crossed her arms, shaking her head slowly and bearing distain in her gaze.

Did none of them understand?

The stark shock of tek filled the uncomfortable pause of silence, and all eyes turned to Aodh as he stumbled into the room. It was clear Serro’s rescue wasn’t widespread knowledge upon his reaction, and the one eyed man nodded slightly to the wick in greeting.

I- I think you did the right thing.

A small voice, a child amongst the adults caught in the seriousness of rebellion, piped up like the peeking of sunshine on a grey winters day. Alyssa felt tears sting her eyes, looking at Tobias with a greatful half sigh, nodding in agreement. Yes, yes Jon was more important, than anyone. Any of them. Jon knew what he was doing. Jon ran the Resistance. Jon was their lead—

“No.” The man himself said sternly, a fathers reprimand filled with disappointment and anger. Jon shook his head, looking squarely at Alyssa as he uttered the word with a scowl, before his one eyed gaze turned to the youngest of them all with a slight softening.

“I’m not more important, I am the least important. I’m just a mouthpiece, a spearhead, for a movement. The Resistance isn’t about me, it’s about us. About all of us. The death of one man, should not grind the cogs of the machine to a halt.” He lifted a hand to point at Tobias, leaning forward slightly.

“You, young man, are probably the most important of us all. You are the future of the Resistance, of humanity. What we do here, shapes everything to come hereafter, for you and your descendants.” A glittering dark eye shifted back to Alyssa, and anger stirred again, welling in his frail chest.

“We can’t afford to—” The man groaned in pain, too caught up in his beratement of the Wisp to pay attention to his injuries. Alyssa began to move towards him, beat to it by Emelia and Ginny.

“Ahh, leave an old man to his woes.” Jon growled, waving the women away with embarrassment, to which Ginny slapped his hand away gently.

“Enough of that Jon.” Stu rounded on Alyssa, waving a meaty hand at the chair bound leader of the Resistance.

“You see what you’ve done Alyssa?! This is on you.” He looked at Gunner and nodded, pointing at the man.

“Gunner, you asked, how many? How many deaths? For us…aye…five. Not including Red, we had five people in that building. Five Alyssa, but you wouldn’t know that because you ran off with your head full of rocks. And then all those gollies. We ain’t them! We didn’t blow up Dorhaven, but after this stunt we may as well have! Eight dead, another seven seriously injured. And the public. Innocent folk Alyssa, the same clocking folk we’re trying to help. At least three injured, and houses destroyed. Destroyed! It was a gods-be-damned catastrophe, for the entire cause! You’ve turned Vienda against us!” The Wisp scowled at him, her glare dark.

“You can’t be serious Stu, surely you can—” The Bull stepped towards her, his face red, brown hair falling over his forehead.

“Do you understand?! Really, truly understand what you’ve done?!” Alyssa stared up at him, daring the man to make a move, knowing in her heart he never would.

“Enough Stu.” Jon called weakly from his chair. He was settled now, though he looked more weary than before, as though the mere act of sitting here was draining on him. He sighed, looking around the room.

“What is done, can’t be undone. All we can do now is move forward, and plan where to go from here.” Taking his time to look at the group, the man frowned.

“I want to hear from those here, on what you think we should do now. What action should we take to fix this situation. To regain the trust of those we’re representing. To build the future for those we’re fighting for. Surely, with the minds gathered here, you all must have some idea. Anything at all.” As he addressed the room, the Wisp looked away from Stu, moving to pace towards Tobias. Reaching the boy, she leaned against the wall beside him, looking down at the ground.

None of them understood.

[Aodh Elzo]

24th Roalis, 2720
THE HOW | EARLY EVENING

Aodh regarded Tobias as he spoke and he felt deeply touched by the young man's words.

Then his attention was taken by the discussion, nay argument between Serro and Wisp and Bull and his blood boiled and he got to the point where he could no longer hold his peace.

"Vrunta! But that ain't right! Do you not see, aye Jon, you're right Tobias here is what's important, this. The rebellion, our up rising, it's not about us!"

Firebrand raked those around him with his now almost feverish bright eyes.

"I would gladly die a hundred times so that our descendants can be free. I was born in a caravan on the open road, miles from any clockin' city, and yet I was not born free!"

His eyes were shining now, almost over come with memories, the first time he realised the society and world into which he had been born and the cruel death of his brother.

"I won't, nay cannot stand by and be at peace with the thought that the men and women that come after us, our children, will be born with that same boot upon their throats."

Once more he looked at the faces of his comrades and siblings in the fight fot freedom and he sagged, the fire gone and Aodh sighed out softly.

"And I reckon that everyone here, in their heart, feels the same. No matter the cost."

Then with an air of apology and embarrassment for his outburst he stepped back into the shadows.

[Tobias Murdock]

24th Roalis 2720

Tobias remembered all too well the little Jon Serro toy his father had made him out of an old bit of oak. It’d been a heroic figure of a strong, determined man holding out a boomstick, his face hard and fierce. He’d dreamed of meeting the man one day, he’d dreamed of earning the honor by doing something meaningful for the resistance.

He met Jon Serro’s eyes when the man addressed him, but the moment was nothing like he had imagined. The man in the chair didn’t look heroic or strong but tired, tired and bitter and angry and defeated. He was the future? How could he be important? He’d helped put up some pamphlets and passed on some messages, was that important? Was that the future? Just to be a thorn in the golly’s sides, an itch they couldn’t scratch, an annoyance to be sure but nothing more than that.

And then it was over, his moment with the great Jon Serro had come and gone like an autumn breeze. There was no fanfare, no celebration, just an old broken man imprisoned in a red-brick cage of his own making. Tobias had been too stunned by how fast the moment had come and gone to formulate an answer.

Jon was wrong. There was no us. There was only bickering and insults being thrown at the Wisp, the only one who’d actually had the guts to do something.

He still remembered the night he’d spent talking to Artful and how he’d bemoaned the Wisp and her lack of action. Now he realized just how wrong he’d been and when she leaned against the wall next to him, he felt instinctively that they were on the same side. The side of action.

Maybe he did it because he was selfish, because he needed someone to hold on to, because the mention of Dorhaven made bile rise to his throat and turned his legs to pudding, or perhaps it was because he couldn’t bear the sight of everyone berating the Wisp. While the Firebrand said his piece, Tobias’s stubby, dirty calloused fingers brushed against the Wisp’s. He didn’t look at her when his warm hand quietly grabbed hold of hers and gave two quick squeezes. Nothing needed to be said.

It didn’t matter to him that he was little more than an upjumped mischief-maker who’d gotten it into his daft head to hold hands with The Wisp as if she was some child that needed to be comforted, as if they’d known each other for ages. While the Firebrand boasted of dying a hundred deaths for the cause, Tobias risked his pride and dignity on a gamble. The gamble was that the Wisp would understand that he meant nothing more than to let her know she wasn’t alone, that he understood and that he would’ve done the same.

The Firebrand was right. It was time to take a stand and fight back, though he seemed embarrassed to admit it. But why?

He would never admit to it, but the Wisp’s presence gave him the courage to speak up, his voice steadier now as he looked about the room. “You say you’re not important, Mr. Serro, that I’m important instead.” He drew a little figure in the ground with the heel of his boot, then looked up to the shadow of Jon Serro. “Respectfully, sir, you’re wrong.”

He finally let go of the Wisp, licked his lips, stepped into the light, and found that he was quite alright so long as he looked past Gunner’s terrifying mask.

“I used to play chess with my father, but he’d always beat me and I never understood why. Until he told me I was too focused on taking the King and never paid attention to what was happening around me.” He swallowed down a gulp, feeling stupid for telling all these important people some lame story about himself. Just who did he think he was?

Clearing his throat, he continued, “You’re the King, Mr. Serro. You might not think yourself important, but the gollies do, they’re obsessed with taking you down, and so long as you’re alive they won’t have an eye for anything else. We should use that to our advantage, let them come to us, let them attack us openly on our own turf where it’s plain to see. They lied about Dorhaven, made us look like the attackers. We can do the same to them, and for every attack, every crime they commit against us out in the open, a dozen more people will join our cause.”

He couldn’t muster the same zeal as the Firebrand, but the more he continued, the more he started to believe it himself. “Show Vienda that you’re alive Mr. Serro, show the people what the gollies have done to you, reveal the lie they told about your death and lure them into attacking. The time for hiding is over… that’s what I think anyway.”

Breathless and a little red-faced he rejoined the Wisp at her side.

[Gale]

The How | Early Evening

24 ROALIS 2720

Gunner said nothing. Their nebulous of thoughts twisted behind the steel mask; they rolled into heat from the furnace, red hot and angry, the clang of the hammer striking molten metal into shape. In the same instance they were quenched, the brine water hissing and bubbling as it was cooled, solidified and given a new shape. There was only the briefest of glances to others, the small shift on the feet, the reminder of where Liberator hung beneath their armpit – easy to reach and draw in a moment.

The boy was making nothing but noise. He was like Wisp, naïve, unfamiliar with the methods the resistance had to take. There was nothing wrong with idealism, but it had to be grounded in reality. Firebrand was angry, rightfully so; but for all the gusto he lacked direction and focus- he needed shaping and directing onto something. Stu was also angry, sharing the same rage that bubbled within but needed focus. Wisp, stunned on denial - after all, how could she as Serro's right hand ever do wrong? Jon was still a broken, husk of what he once was; they did not even dwell on the possibility of recovery.

Which then left it to Gunner and the growing heavyweight took root in their stomach. It was down to them now, uneasy and foreign as it was, they just had to make sure they did not drown beneath the weight of it all.

Everything now balanced upon a razer edge, teetering on a single point where they all clung on to each other in the hopes of not falling.

Lead.

“Thank you, Stu for the recounting.”

They let the fires burn through, solidify and reform into the cold iron mask they wore. They were steel, unbent and unbroken. They would endure where others would not.

The question was, at what cost? To play as the Hatcher's advocate?

“These are fighting words. While I agree with the sentiment, they are not a plan.” Gunner spoke coolly, the same monotone voice reverberating from behind the grill in their mask. “To invite people in means we expose a threat to the How. We show them where we operate, we expose our secrets. To meet them in the open? What other civilians do we expose? Who do we risk?” Gunner looked towards the boy. “What consequences are you willing to play upon your consciousness?”

“What is to also say they will not do the same to us? Sure, they may have started the attack – but how quickly would it be twisted to make it seem like some sneak ambush, a trap devised by the resistance to cause more harm to the people?”

Gunner exhaled, “Not everything in the resistance is about going out looking for a fight. You must think beyond the slugging of fists. Besides, I don’t think Serro is currently in a state to present himself publicly.”

“People will believe the propaganda they are fed; you must interrupt the flow of news. They control the papers and the means by which people can educate themselves.” Gunner prowled, the shoulders rolling and shifting as they wound their way around the room. “Otherwise, people will believe what they are told and what they want to see.”

The Gunsmith stopped behind Serro then, their hands clasping behind their back.

“We must find another way to shock them. One with as little blood and explosions as possible, but disseminate as much information to as many as we can.”

“Before we do that, we must show a strong supporting front to soothe the people and salvage the situation… I have propositions.” Gunner stood beside Serro then. “But I am not the King, not that I am the sort to bow to such.”

There was a slow, careful inhale. Everything in their mind quietly measured as they felt their internals shift, not from that of the creation of war and death but to one of delegation.

“We must reach out to the families of those affected, the dead and the injured. We must show sympathy in this tragedy; in not doing so we look as if we are admitting guilt.” They straightened; the words briefly being tasted on their tongue. “We must help them clean up. We must begin before the Galdori do, and we must show a willingness to support the people. Organise teams to clean up the rubble, help families be relocated and ensure homes be rebuilt. And then we must see it through to the end.”

“We must show we are not just destruction and violence.”

The masked head tilted to one side briefly, awkward as if exaggerating consideration. “We should interrupt the press. Slip in information between the broadsheets and exchange articles while they are in print. Tell the truth in ink. Provide another perspective. People will read, and then talk, and then will question.”

Fire, heat, it all pulsed within their own internal crucible; where once was anger it was instead something becoming more focused. It was an odd internal sensation, perhaps they were saying too much. But they were a product born and bred in the resistance, it was their lifeblood with the waves only they knew and experienced.

“We must prepare for retaliation because the Galdori will retaliate, and it will affect everyone. We must prepare our stores, stock up on supplies before they attempt to throttle whatever they can from the population. We must stand ready to protect those at risk.”

Gunner leaned down to Serro’s ear, the head-turning to him. They lifted the edge of their mask to exposed their lips, their words whispered for his ear only, before they withdrew and refitted the cold mask back against their face.

“And you, Serro, must decide if you wish to continue to be the Resistance mouthpiece.”

[Raksha]

24th Roalis, 2720
THE HOW | EARLY EVENING

Aodh’s words were fire, bringing a feeling of emotion swelling in her chest. The people wanted action, wanted to move. The underground was no longer big enough to contain them, and yet here was their leader, their fearless face of the Resistance simply saying he wasn’t important. That he wasn’t the reason they fought. He had been the one to lead them here so far, he was important. He was. Aodh was right! A thousand deaths were nothing compared to the cause. She’d had to save him. Not for her. Not for him.

For them.

Alyssa felt it then, that soft brush of a small hand against hers, a tiny unexpected thing in the vicious abysmal mess that churned around her. The Wisp turned her head slightly, to catch the figure of their youngest member, and her wounded heart felt a sudden warmth. In all this mess, there was someone who listened, someone who understood. Who cared.

She was humbled by it.

Whilst Aodh spoke with passionate fervor, Tobias moved forward, releasing Alyssa. She watched him, that little tiny voice amongst all the ‘should know better’ adults, speaking with quiet but brave words.

Respectfully, sir, you’re wrong.

The Wisp looked at Jon, expecting a smirk or maybe a frown. The old man simply watched, listening to the boy speak. The more Tobias spoke, the more Alyssa could feel a sense of pride in her chest. This, this is what they needed. The fresh, new thoughts of the generation that would live their truths.

The time for hiding is over… that’s what I think anyway.

The boy finished his speech, and tucked himself back against the wall beside her. Alyssa reached for him, taking a small hand, and squeezed it. Just like Tobias had done for her.

The people had spoken, they wanted action. They wanted fire. They were here, to lay down their lives for the cause. Stu frowned, arms crossed and brow creased. Ginny chewed her lip, looking around the room. Emelia stood beside Jon, a strange shadow of what the Wisp should be, standing in her place by the older man. Alyssa felt a twist in the pit of her stomach, and a growing irrational jealously. She looked at Jon instead, waiting for the older man to speak.

Another voice however, broke through the thick tension of the room.

Gunner. The quiet, masked figure who filled the room with a presence that commanded attention even if they didn’t mean to. All eyes shifted to the sheen of the metal that covered their face, listening to words that started with acknowledgement and gentle awareness. Alyssa listened, her blue eyes focused on them, unsure where this was leaning. It was true, the actions of what Aodh and Tobias’ suggested were radial, and would bring with them danger. But they were actions.

Still, she listened, watching the figure move slowly across the room to stand behind Jon.

Before we do that, we must show a strong supporting front to soothe the people and salvage the situation

“Aye.” The Bull said gruffly, nodding his favour, his voice a little more even now. As Gunner continued, the man clearly agreed. Ginny joined in, always with Stu even if she doubted. Always.

We must show we are not just destruction and violence.

“We can be more than that.” Emelia said quietly, her voice filled with her own newly discovered strange magic, a parse by the mixing of her fathers galdori blood and her mothers human blood. Unknown for so long, and discovered now. A frightening concept, magic uncontrolled that could happen at anytime. Hurting people she was growing to care about. Her once kidnappers now her family.

Jon listened to it all quietly, his one good eye focused on the ground in the middle of them all, a husk of a man too weary and too hurt to fight anymore. As Gunner leaned in, speaking in words only Jon could hear, the great Jon Serro didn’t react. He simply listened.

Silence fell on them again, and it seemed everyone was waiting for him to speak.

“It seems, we have two pathways ahead of us. Both come with challenges, and both have merit.” The older human said finally, looking at the group as his gravely voice raised up. He glanced at each of them, one at a time, those whom he could look at anyway.

“It’s time for us to make a choice. For us to forge our way forward, for the future of humanity.” Stu straightened, raising his hand.

“I follow Gunner. We need to show our people we’re here for them, about them. Fix this mess.” Ginny nodded, tilting her head to Gunner.

“I follow Gunner.” Alyssa glared in disgust, looking between her two friends, her blue eyes hard.

“You follow Jon, not Gunner.” She said coldly, pushing off the wall and standing to look around the room.

“Is this what we’re to become? A sniveling shadow group, handing out good deeds and flowers for the bereaved? More inaction? For how long? Weeks, months…years? When does all this….public relations…when does this become action?” The Wisp shook her head and scoffed.

“I have devoted my life to this cause, to you Jon, not to become politicians and diplomats. To fight. I will follow you, to the end. For the Resistance.” She stared at him, challenging him to push back on the suggestions of the figure in the mask.

Jon looked at her.

“I was dead, for seasons, as far as you were aware. As far as those outside of this room know, I still am. I have spent my life fighting Alyssa. My whole life. I am old, and tired. Maybe the fight isn’t so much with our hands and our weapons. Maybe it’s with words, and deeds. Actions, but of a different kind.” Sighing, the human nodded.

“I follow Gunner.” He said quietly, shoulders relaxing and face calm. A sense of relief seemed to radiate from him, relief and sadness. Alyssa scowled, tears burning her eyes.

“You what?” She said quietly, looking at Stu and Ginny, blame stretched clearly over her features. Stu looked down at Jon, not expecting the words, but contemplating them carefully. Finally he looked at Gunner and nodded.

“Ginny and I can work with you on this plan. Whatever you need, Boss.” The Wisp shook her head.

“No. You don’t speak for all of us Stu. Neither does Gunner. I can’t stay here and watch you destroy everything we’ve worked so hard for, for so long!” She looked at Aodh and Tobias.

“I’m leaving. If you want, you can come with me.” Looking at Gunner, the Wisp shook her head, before looking at Jon.

“Alyssa, don’t do this.” She frowned, swallowing her emotions, arm throbbing under its bindings.

“I didn’t Jon, you did.” With that, she turned on her heel and left, waiting for Aodh and Tobias should they follow her.

Jon sighed, before turning his head to look up at Gunner.

“You’ve got the reigns now. Let’s hope you do more than I did.”

IMPORTANT NOTES

This is my final modpost in this thread, everyone is welcome to make another post either exiting the meeting or their thoughts ect. The state of affairs: Jon has stepped down as the Resistance lead, and for all intents and purposes he would like to remain 'dead' in the eyes of those who weren't privy to this meeting. He has given Gunner the reigns to the Resistance. Alyssa has not accepted this, and has left the How. For those who follow Alyssa she will be starting a splinter cell that is still about 'fighting the good fight'. This is going to be a 'if you're not with us, your against us' type of situation.

[Tobias Murdock]

24th Roalis 2720

Tobias stiffened when the gaze of the unmoving steel mask landed on him. He didn't need to see Gunner's features to know that they were judging him. Cold, hard looks were nothing new to him yet, Gunner's expressionless stare and hollow voice made his skin crawl far worse than the factory overseers doling out encouragement to idle workers. With them at least he knew what might provoke them, but Gunner was impossible to predict and common sense ran in favour of unpredictable people being bad'uns rather than good'uns.

It wasn't until the opressive weight of Gunner's dead-eyed gaze shifted away from him that Tobias dared to look up again. Honeyed words filled the air, promises of salvation, promises of healing, promises of slow, steady progress. Tobias scoffed inwardly. What progress had been made? What kind of miracle was Gunner anticipating that the masses might suddenly learn to our even care to read? They were nothing but empty words falling on deaf ears. There was another way, a better way. After all, wasn't it said that actions spoke louder than words? Firebrand at least seemed to understand that, but he could not find the same convictions in the eyes of Stu and Ginny. How could they not? The very people he'd relied on for food and shelter, the people he had trusted most and the man he'd looked up to all his life had no fire left in them, if there had even been a spark at all. The countless times either Stu or Ginny had dissuaded him from taking rash action made some kind of twisted sense now, they didn't want any real change, they just wanted to get by quietly like everyone else. A sickening ache settled in his gut, a dollop of betrayal mixed with a pinch of growing disbelief. Firebrand had put it best, no cost was to high for freedom and he couldn't fathom ever giving up fighting for it. It was in his blood, in his spirit and he would rather be dead than surrender to tyranny.

Tangled up in his own hot-headed, feverish thoughts, Tobias recoiled a little at the sudden touch. He hadn't realized he'd balled his fists at his sides until the Wisp squeezed his hand. He flashed a quick look at her and promised himself he'd one day work up the courage to admit how horribly he'd misjudged her. Easing a little, Tobias stuffed his hands in his pockets and listened.

But when Jon spoke he was too stunned to say anything back. The grizzled leader might just as well have personally gutted him with a knife. The Wisp jumped up, but he didn't register what she said. Ginny clasped the invisible knife Jon had driven into him, pulled out free and stabbed it through his heart. Tobias slumped against the wall, knees weak and eyes starting to burn. Stu finished the job by slicing his throat, stopping the many foul things Tobias felt like hurling at them from ever sounding.

The Wisp whirled around and left leaving a dead silence hanging in the air. Jon said something, but Tobias didn't listen. He sagged down the wall, drew his knees to his chest and squinted into the distance. He'd felt hungry, empty and lonely at times before, sometimes all at once, yet somehow this was worse. An empty belly could be filled, loneliness could be cured by company or a kind gesture, but he didn't know if a remedy existed for what ailed him now.

He didn't know how long he sat there in stunned silence, only that he eventually dabbed his eyes with sleeve, got up and sauntered towards the exit. He hesitated a moment in the doorway and glanced over his shoulder at all the people that he'd looked up to, even considered family in some strange way. His eyes narrowed to mere slits as they passed over Jon and Gunner.

"Cowards."

He didn't care if anyone heard, he'd already turned his back on them and vanished around the corner, a brisk walk at first, then a jog, then a run. He didn't know where he was going, didn't care, didn't even know if he wanted to find the Wisp or just be left alone. All he knew was that he had to get away, that he needed air, that he needed to keep going until his legs would give it out from under him. And so he ran, not minding the attention he drew to himself until he found a cold, dark and quiet corner of the How where no one would bother him and retreated into it.