January 29th
It was a cold day, an oddity even in January's Nevada, when they stopped again, outside of a town that's been fought over so many times no-one even remembers why. One day, they just shot at each other. Lexington and Concord all over again. No one truly knows what side fired first, but it was turmoil nevertheless. Day in and out, sides changed every day, and for one radio disc jockey, it was hell keeping up.
Felix Connors was in his radio station, nursing his (recently wounded) leg with one hand and managing the daily radio broadcasts with the other. An Agency vehicle pulled up, or, rather, shuttered up. The Anti-Agency mechanics were shoddy and best, bound to catch flame from being looked at funny at worst. This one was no different. Two men, one tall and stocky, one short and thin, get out, and knocked.
"Just a minute. I need my crutch."
"Blast your crutch! Just get here!"
"Oh, I'm sorry that I need a crutch to walk."
Suddenly, the door burst open, the tall one marveling at his handiwork as he hauled Felix out of his chair and into the car, before cracking him upside the head with a rifle butt.
Twenty-five whole minutes of peaceful sleep later, he awoke, back shoved against a wall. Several townsfolk were lined up as well. This was a firing squad. And he was in the middle.
"Your crimes include; obstruction of justice, terrorism, and support of the enemy cause. Any last words, traitors?"
Several townsfolk screamed at the man, cursing his name and ideals, while some, Felix included, stayed quiet, from shock, maybe.
Rifles were leveled.
Cocked.
Aimed.
And yet, there was no crack of shodddily-put-together guns. No, it was the crack of a powerful pistol, in fact, eight cracks. Eight Anti-Agency folks lay, slain as can possibly be by the human body. A black haired fellow with eyes the color of an ocean walked up.
"People.-" He spoke, his voice gruff. "-You are free to go."
"Who are you?" Asked the townsfolk.
"Markus Holiday, at your service. Anyone want to help me with a job?"
Felix stepped up, nervous, and leaning on a wall. "I'll go. I was the cause of this, anyway."
"Wonderful. This will be the best partnership this side of the Atlantic!"
Author's Note of Notedness: Act One is done