Hi everyone! This is the Resistance Chronicles (RC) again. If you've been following WCFC, you'll see the exact same stories posted on that page. I just wanted to consolidate them and post them all together, as one story.

Some things to keep in-mind:

- Major spoilers for Season 3.

- The chapters are mostly vignettes, meaning they're not fully connected to each other. They're mostly companion chapters to AUP, my other story. I would recommend checking out AUP first and then reading this along with the companion chapter. It'll make a lot more sense.

- I also will be reposting the reviews from WCFC. If you wrote something as a review on the original and see your review posted there, please don't be freaked out. I just want to have them all in a place where I can see them.

Anyhow, onto the first chapter! It's companion to Chapter 30 of AUP.

CHAPTER 1: THE HERO'S PLEDGE

Timmy gazed around the astonishingly-clean city of Kremniy, holding his pack of items together. Gazing around, he took a step forward, trying to figure out what his next move was.

So far, the mission was going smoothly. He'd landed at the outpost, a small satellite just within Zenith's atmosphere, and received clearance to land in Kremniy. UR students were allowed to go anywhere within the UR domain without a visa, and with minimal interference from customs and spaceport staff. He parked his spacecraft in the diplomats' section of Kremniy Interrealm Spaceport.

That was when he'd had to leave everything behind. He'd tossed his uniform, blaster, cell-phone, ID, and anything that could've identified him as a Red Fountain student, into the spacecraft. All he had left was a set of food, clothes, and a device mainly used for Interrealm Translate. Since it didn't have location- or Web-services on it, no one would be able to track him down.

He sighed, wondering what his parents had been told. They were probably horrified that their little Timmy had gone out on such a dangerous mission by himself. They were probably in shambles right now, wondering what in Rajana's name was to be done. Saladin was going to have a tough time explaining – particularly considering he was Timmy's paternal uncle.

Most people thought that Timmy had gotten into Red Fountain because his uncle was headmaster. They scorned his lack of skill at fencing and wrangling, and whispered about him behind his back. In fact, Timmy would've been rejected from Red Fountain, if it wasn't for his impressive skill in math, physics, and coding. During his otherwise-miserable interview, he'd repaired a Red Fountain computer, allowing for three-hundred percent more accuracy in detecting intruders. That very computer was the only reason why Red Fountain had stood so long in the battle against the Army of Decay.

And yet, he still wasn't good enough. If he'd been a good enough boyfriend, Tecna would've never disappeared. He could still imagine her going down the portal, disappearing from Melody for good –

Why am I thinking of the past? He clenched his fists. None of that matters anymore! I just need to find Tecna! He closed his eyes, looking around.

He'd only been in Zenith for a day, and yet, he still couldn't get used to the culture-shock. Though he was wearing a magimask, people still shot him strange looks, obviously knowing he was a foreigner. In Magix, the streets were often bustling and filled with energy, but in Zenith, everything was quiet. The silence was something he wasn't used to, something he wasn't sure of. The beautiful steel buildings gleamed coldly at him, giving him no answers as he walked around.

Now that he thought of it, this mission was becoming more and more hopeless. He'd stormed into Zenith without so much as a clear idea as to what he was going to do, or where Tecna could've gone. All he knew was that Tecna had to have come here somewhere. He had no doubt he would find her –

"Help!"

The shout came directly behind him. Timmy froze as he saw a bearded man with a metal leg, one which appeared to be broken. He had an anguished expression on his face, one of pure terror.

Two policemen were converging on the man, furious expressions on their faces. They began to shout at him, calling in Unified Zenithian. Pulling out blasters, they pointed at him, telling him to get on the ground.

Ignore them, ignore them, keep moving on… But no matter what, he couldn't get the image of the terrified man out of his mind. Finally, confusion overtook him, and he whipped out a device, connecting it to Interrealm Translate and reading in Magixian.

"Cyborgs aren't allowed outside – are you not up to-date with the news?"

"Please, sirs, I only wanted to get a coffee!"

"It'll be fun torturing this one."

Timmy's fists clenched. He hated seeing this injured cyborg facing attack, especially when he'd done nothing wrong. Just like my Tecna… But he knew getting arrested was counterproductive to his own goals of finding Tecna. I need to lie low and not get into trouble!

Then he saw the blaster detonate. A ray of light shot out, pinning the cyborg to the ground.

Immediately, Timmy drew out his own blaster. Pointing it straight at the policeman with the blaster, he stunned him temporarily. The second man immediately ran towards him, aiming his weapon at Timmy.

But he was ready. Dodging the attack, he darted out of the way, feeling a strength he knew Tecna would've approved of. He shot straight at the man, shouting, "For Tecna!" Launching a punch at the man, he shot forward – straight into the ground.

He didn't realize what was happening until the man pinned him down to the ground. The other policeman had recovered, and was glaring down at him. They both dragged him to a police-van, muttering something in Zenithian.

How could I have been so foolish? Why had Timmy fought for the cyborg man, especially when it hadn't helped anything? No matter what, Tecna was still missing. He groaned weakly as the men lifted him up, carrying him towards the van.

Then, just as suddenly, the two men collapsed. Timmy again fell to the ground, his glasses creaking. Staring upwards, he let out a gasp.

The cyborg was standing above him, his hands glowing with magic. His metal leg was miraculously fine, and he looked far less scared, far more confident. He extended a hand to Timmy, who stared at him in disbelief.

"Good job, lad," he said in the Common Tongue, his harsh Zenithian accent coming through. "Got a lot to explain to you on the way down."

The next thing he knew, they had disappeared, through an endless void of space and time. Timmy let out a yell as he was teleported, an uncomfortable sensation coming over him. He landed immediately, staring around at where he'd come from.

He was in a tunnel. There was nothing but the light of the cyborg's – or wizard's – magic to guide them. He stared at the wizard in disbelief.

"You mean that whole thing was a trick?" he demanded. "You weren't in any danger at all? What's wrong with you?"

"A common type of recruitment mission," the man smiled. "We do this every now and then. It's pretty awesome, watching those self-righteous idiots get a kick in the face."

Recruitment for what? Timmy thought angrily. He glared at him.

"Listen, I don't have time for this," he snapped. "I'm kind of on a search mission, okay? Now would you mind teleporting me back up to the street?"

The man chuckled. "Not until you see what we're doing!" Grabbing Timmy by the arm, he led him down the tunnel.

As they walked down, Timmy's eyes adjusted to the light. The stench of the underground grew stronger as they walked forwards. Timmy stared around, taking in all the sights around.

He saw people tired, bedraggled and exhausted. Their clothes were filled with soot, dark from the factories. A man and two children – a boy and a girl – were eating ration-bars, a gray type of sludge that took away all of Timmy's appetite. Two old women were walking down towards the chamber, walking with a limp – one of them had a missing hand. A woman was holding a baby at her breast, sleeping, even though the tunnel was unclean and unsanitary, much unlike the city he'd been in just moments before.

"Who are they?" he asked in disbelief.

"We are citizens of this wretched nation," the man with the two children answered coolly. "My twins – Fyodor and Fedora" – he pointed to the boy and girl – "have been working for eighteen hours every day at the hydraulic factory, with five-minute breaks for meals. They lost their mother in a machinery accident two years ago. Kesha is taking care of her mother, Lydia" – he pointed to one of the old women, who was nursing the woman with the missing hand – "a military veteran, who has lost her hand not to the brave defense of this country, but to petty internal suppressions. Their pension is low, and Kesha is barely able to front her mother's medical bills. And as for Irina" – he pointed to the woman with the baby – "well, she's dying. She had a medical condition which made her too weak to work, but when her husband died, she had no choice but to go to the factories herself. She carried his child all throughout these months, and was forced to work every day, despite being too frail. She is convinced she'll live to see Alexei reach adulthood, but we all know better."

"That – that's" – Timmy stared at the group of people, feeling sick to his stomach.

He had never encountered poverty of any type. Like Tecna, he'd grown up in a sheltered environment, and had been fairly well-off. Growing up in a wealthy suburb, he'd never known anything other than comfort. His parents, Lilia and Ishaan Singh, lived very comfortable lives as magiball instructors, teaching the de facto national sport of Magix. Even when he'd gone to Red Fountain, he'd never had to worry about too much. His biggest problem in life had always been fitting in.

At Vidhatra High School, people had always been so narrow-minded. Since it was such a small, monogamous community consisting solely of fairies, he'd never really gotten to know a large variety of people. Even though Red Fountain was far more diverse, everyone had been so gung-ho and macho. Sky and Brandon had been nice, sure, but he'd never found a group of people he actually commiserated with.

But these people can't fit into life. He could see that, should they cease work for a single day, these people would die. They were barely handling things as it was, and it was obvious they couldn't go on forever.

"Don't worry, Dzon!" Rasputin said with oblivious glee. "I can tell he's gonna be a great recruit! I'll get the capt" –

"What is all this racket?" a voice interrupted. A navy-haired woman with sharp brown eyes walked into the room. In the glow of the candlelight, her skin was pale, and she had an austere expression on her face. She glared down at the cyborg.

"Cadet Rasputin," she said severely, "have you found a recruit for the Resistance?"

"Yes, Captain Mara," the cyborg answered cheerfully. "He's here." He pointed to Timmy.

I'm not a recruit! Timmy wanted to say. But somehow, he couldn't find it in his mouth to refuse. He stared up at the woman, who scrutinized Timmy. Timmy felt as if he was being skewered by her dark gaze. Finally, the captain sniffed, turning away.

"A Magixian," she said. "An Iyengar, I see."

Timmy stared, surprised that she knew. Amongst Magixian fairy-beings, there were two races – Iyers and Iyengars. Iyers were darker-skinned and lived closer to the poles, and believed in the far more traditional aspects of magic. They were a much more exclusive community and did not allow anyone to convert to their religions, but were also known to have great skill. Iyengars were lighter-skinned, a mix of immigrant cultures and native Magixians. They dominated the equator, and were much freer in their religions and their thinking. Timmy and Saladin were Iyengars, as were Faragonda, Griffin, and Krishnan.

"Don't look so surprised," she answered. "We study history, even that which is not our own. If you were an Iyer, I might trust you – but Iyengars are a whole different story."

Timmy winced. For those who weren't native to Magix – and those within Magix, too – there was an abundance of stereotypes about Iyers and Iyengars. Iyers were scorned as prudish and traditionalistic, while Iyengars were considered greedy businessmen. Iyers, however, were often more respected by interrealm people, as they were considered to have higher morals. They also abhorred materialism and lived very simple lifestyles, particularly the priestly people. Amongst the interrealm community, Iyengars gave Magix a bad name – they were the reason why people saw Magixians as greedy capitalists, who wanted nothing but to dominate the market and media.

"A foreigner such as you cannot possibly help," she continued. "Rasputin, take him back up to the surface. Make sure to put a memory spell on him so he does not remember the Resistance – well, until it wears off, anyways."

"But, ma'am," Rasputin protested.

"That was an order," Mara snapped.

Timmy frowned. He gazed around the chamber, at the people who were suffering, unable to live another day. He gazed at Rasputin – who had been stopped on the street simply for being a cyborg. And then he thought about Tecna, who'd lived nothing but a hard life. A slow understanding began to dawn upon him.

"Whatever path ya wanna go on, life often takes ya somewhere else." At last he understood the wisdom of the Chef of Magix's words. If he walked away now, he would be turning his back on all the cyborgs, people like Tecna. And he couldn't let that happen. He turned to Mara and opened his mouth.

"I wish to pledge myself to the Resistance," he found himself saying. The old woman with the missing hand stared up at him in surprise, but he continued speaking. "I want to help. I want to do what's right."

"So you want to spread your Magixian ideals of supremacy and democracy here?" Mara laughed. "Don't you realize that we don't care about your democracy? Our people just want to live properly, without pain and suffering!"

"No," Timmy said quietly. "My girlfriend – or former girlfriend, I guess – is a cyborg from Zenith, and I want to help her people. I can't stand watching cyborgs getting beat up on the street." He gestured to Rasputin. "I want to stop it."

"All right, Magix boy," Mara said coldly. "How can you help us?"

"Well, uh – I'm a great programmer," Timmy said sheepishly.

"We have plenty of good programmers," Mara answered. "We don't need you!"

"It isn't just me," Timmy said. An idea had begun to take hold. "It's my girlfriend. She's a far greater programmer than I am."

"Hmm." Mara surveyed him. "And who might this girlfriend – or ex-girlfriend, as you say – be?"

"Anastasia Ivanova."

For a moment, there was silence. Then Dzon laughed. "We've heard all about her – she died to save Melody from destruction. A dead person can't exactly help us, can she?"

"She's not dead." Timmy stared pleadingly into Mara's eyes. "I just know that she somehow survived. I know she'll make it back here somehow, wherever she is, and come to help us. But we need to find her and bring her here to help us."

"Hmm." Mara frowned. "Anastasia Ivanova is indeed an icon amongst the cyborg population. She is proof that cyborgs can surmount discrimination and be stronger than most. If she somehow is alive, she could turn the tide against our losses. I'll humor you, lover boy." She gazed at him. "We'll search for her, but in return, you must promise us undying loyalty. Will you stand amongst us?"

"I will," Timmy vowed. Mara's eyes gleamed.

"Very well, then. Welcome to the Resistance."