Chapter Two

Update:

'Another bomb landed very near Doverman Street, killing no less than one hundred men and children, and leaving more than three dozen with serious, life scarring casualties. The women who all lived nearby and were mothers and wives to the dead and wounded, were apparently almost all on a march down near the Platinum District at the time, demanding better rights, conditions, and laws letting Coppers get higher paying jobs. There are rumours this attack was meant to target them, and their-'

He turned the knob and switched the radio off. Silence followed.

"It's just the Brownman, he exaggerates a load of shit anyways." he said dismissively, trying to comfort the people around him. Some nodded absentmindedly. Most just stared out of the windows in the apartment with blank expressions.

He clapped his hands.

"Alright, come on." they all looked up at him expectantly, and in that moment he decided. "We gotta stop this. Let's get a big recruitment party together and move out. In one week, we'll regroup here. You are to train them with the basics, and we'll attack as soon as we get back." he ordered. No one moved. They all looked shocked.

"Did you think you signed up for Book Club or something?" he shouted at them.

"GET MOVING!" he yelled, and everyone set off with a laugh. He walked over to a girl with blonde hair, intending to speak first, but she turned and opened her mouth to get the first sentence.

"I was gonna-"

"Nuh uh Barb." he interrupted, shaking his head. "Go to Brownman. This thing relies on him." he said. Barbara's jaw dropped down and her eyes narrowed into furious blue slits.

"Are you fucking kidding me? You're always sending me on that dick, he's not gonna join!" she snapped.

"We need him. Do anything you can to persuade him." he said, and winked at her. She looked confused, but as he turned around and started walking away, she grabbed his shoulder and whipped him back around to face him. With a flurry of hair and burning eyes she whacked the side of his face.

"If you think I'm gonna suck tha-" she growled and pointed a finger at him, but he cut her off. "Jesus Barb, no I didn't mean that!" he yelled. People were starting to stare around them, so he waved them away and lowered his voice.

"I heard his ex-girlfriend died in the bombing." he explained in hushed tones. Barbara looked exasperated.

"Why the fuck would you wink for that." she shook her head, but before he could say anything else, she turned, whipping him with a strand of her hair, and stalking off and out of the building. He chuckled to himself and frowned, tentatively touching the side of his face for any cuts or bruises beginning to form. He wondered if he had been a little ridiculous with Barb, and decided last minute to change his mind. He was just about to head outside and catch her up-

"Jordan!" someone called out, and he turned with eyebrows raised, still holding the side of his cheek gently.

"Hey Jordan, I just wanted to check with you that this is happening."

A boy with blonde hair was walking closer to him, from across the now empty room. Jordan laughed. "Whaddaya mean?"

"This is the stupidest thing I've ever heard of," Blondie said harshly. "Do you know how many people are going to die without any real training?" he added more gently. Jordan looked at him dead on, his height making him seem a lot more intimidating than he actually could have ever been on his own.

"Dude, I make the rules around here, I give the orders." he said firmly. "Now why would I be appointed to give stupid orders? I earned my position, I was voted in." he told him. Leaning over the shorter man, he placed his hands on his hips in a patronising manner. The room was now empty, the light from the window shining just lightly enough to light up half of Jordan's face, and render the other side dark and shadowed.

The younger man was one of the teenagers. Name was Uren, typical newbie. Thought he was everything, bragged about how he could defeat a thousand of the Plat security guards in one on one, hand-to-hand combat. Truth was, his thu'um wasn't very useful, everyone found him annoying, and he was often found to be very friendly with the opposition, in whatever state they were. He was a pain in the ass, and if he wasn't careful, he'd be gone soon. But Jordan couldn't just plain get rid of him. He was the kinda guy that would just run straight to the authorities in the Plats, and he knew too much about the team. Like a broken link in a chain, like a splinter in your littlest finger, like a nun at Synagogue, or a Jew in Sunday School; Uren was unwanted.

Uren laughed and flashed him a plastic smile.

"Sure boss. You know what's right." he chimed, and walked out.

Jordan bit his lip and swung his radio up to his mouth, pressing the button for speech as words tumbled out of his mouth.

"Isla, I want Uren right in the back when we attack, don't give him any responsibilities and have someone keep an eye on him." he growled. The response crackled down the line immediately.

"Yes sir..?"

With a determined gleam in his eyes, he nodded to no one in particular, heading out to join the team. His ripped sneakers squeaked on the creaky floorboards beneath him as he took big steps down to the door, and out of the building.

He pushed through the crowd that had gathered outside the apartment building, heading to the pavement on the other side of the patched road. He wrung his hands out in front of him, his face twisted with well hidden anxiety. No matter how calm Jordan seemed, he was falling apart behind his tall walls. And no matter how stupid and fucking annoying Uren was, his words got through to him. At least nine new recruits would have no idea what they were doing on a battlefield. Hopefully, they would find some gems among the rubble of the District.

But, he assured himself, the fact that everyone else in his team had unquestioningly accepted his orders, meant something. Whether the decision was stupid or not, they were loyal, and that made him proud.

Jordan had only been elected team leader after the last leader went MIA, Ali Baker. But that was at least a year ago, and the Lads hadn't really done anything since she had gone. Hell, they hadn't really done much before either.

The Lads had been around for years. Previously, it had been a stupid street gang of punks who messed around and stole shit, but rarely ever got in trouble. It was a group of stoned, aggressive drunks.

Then about five years ago, a few people from the Golden District started getting really really poor, and the Platinum authorities moved them to the Copper District, to live with the lowest. They were pretty mad at the Plats authorities, obviously, and mixed in with the Copper kind, giving private tutoring from a higher class perspective, since the one school in the Cops was full every year with slightly more well off kids.

And when the Cops got more intelligent, they realised that they couldn't sit down and ignore the problems in the District. They had to stand up, and do something, or sit in squalor and live life with no purpose.

Meanwhile, it started getting worse. Random searches in people's houses, brutal questioning, and random kidnapping. And now, bombing.

So the Lads disbanded, and younger, more politically involved kids started joining, and formed a now infamous group of fierce guardians and warriors for the Copper District, hell bent on revenge from the Plats.

"Jordan, c'mere!"

Jordan's head swung around to see Miles, a tall guy with dark hair and an awesome thu'um that he had secretly envied for a long time. Miles waved, and Jordan twisted and shoved through the crowd to get to him.

"Dude, um, I'm really happy to be doing something, and I fully agree with your plan, don't get me wrong," he started. Jordan rolled his eyes. "but who the hell can we recruit, there's no one left with any good thu'ums." he said gently.

Jordan placed a hand on his shoulder, looked at the ground, and looked back up at the guy.

"Nah Miles. You just dunno where to look." he explained, and turned away with a smile.

Jordan faced the crowd, and beckoned for silence.

"Alright. Limit is three days, be back at eleven a.m, next monday."

"Groups are as follows. Isla, Uren; Kerry, Group Golden. Group Platinum is me, Miles, and Barb. And Group Copper is Taurime, Brandon, and JJ."

"Group leaders," he continued. "are Isla, me, and Brandon. Now you guys should all get at least three people by the week. You all remember basic training, so find a safe house and get them on board. You will have two random citizens to find, and one target that we've been tracing for weeks. If you don't find your target, thats ok. If you can't persuade them I suggest you leave a lasting impression."

Murmurs circled the small crowd, and a couple of excited looks were exchanged.

"Team Leaders to me please."

Brandon, and Isla came over, looking as equally excited as their peers.

"Watcha need boss." Brandon rubbed his hands together and looked on eagerly.

"Ok, Isla, Group Golden's target is the Brownman, he is essential, we've been trying him for months, so you're gonna need to really push him. Do not leave his place without him." Jordan explained, and Isla walked off with a brief explanation scrawled on paper of who he was, and where he lived, his weaknesses and pictures and such.

"Brandon, Group Copper is gonna go out and find Monty. He has a very useful thu'um and we need it for the battle so you'd better come back with him, ok?" he gave him the brief on his target, and walked away, hearing Brandon's hyper laughter trail off behind him.

Jordan turned back to his group.

"Good news Barb, we are not after the Brownman. I changed my mind and I think he's had enough of you." he said. Barb smiled, and Miles nodded, although with a slightly bewildered expression.

"Our guy is MLPMichael. He recently won a another tournament, and I've heard rumours of some pretty strong thu'um on that guy. We're goin to his place first, you guys got it?"

"Yes, oh my god, lets go already." Barb laughed.

"Sixty-one Seville Row." Miles read from the brief, and they started walking towards the street, which was coincidentally, not too far from where they currently were.

They paced the pavement with their heads down so as not to attract trouble, and made their way over the cracked and slanted paving stones, up some stairs, and approached a pretty fancy black door. Fancy for this place, anyway.

Miles leaned down and Barb and Jordan covered him, looking around threateningly with their hands in their pockets with he picked the lock.

With a satisfying click, the door swung open on a single hinge, and inside, more stairs, unlit, grimy bits of earth and gum embedded in the grey carpet.

Miles first, then Barbara and Jordan, they climbed up the stairs, listening for sounds of Michael's famous 'Ragequit' gaming. The kid was a Copper District legend, and had a lot of money for games, so Jordan was expecting the apartment to be packed with gaming equipment. Not that that was unusual. Gaming was everything. But Michael was pro.

"Fucking shit, MOTHERFUCKER!" someone screamed from inside the thin walls next to them, and Miles laughed quietly. Jordan arrived at a white door, the paint peeling off, and knocked three times. The noises from inside stopped abruptly, and the sound of scuffling footsteps could be heard across wooden floors. MLPMichael swung open the door, and immediately pressed a knife right up to Jordan's throat. Despite being short, and not very intimidating, the kid had a rep, and things could get ugly with him around. Jordan heard his team members draw weapons behind him, but he put his hands up and smiled, a gesture of peace, but Michael's eyes were cold stones, and Jordan wasn't sure they could get past him.