This story belongs to me and my creative mind. However, many of the characters, names, and places all belong to their respective companies, so don't yell at me for copyright infringements! Remember, Italics represent a person's thoughts or the telling of past events.
Enjoy...
: : The High Road of Honor : :
Chapter Three A Trail of Ghosts
"So what kind of weapons do you have for this?" Trant asked.
"Typical ones. G-7 auto-rifles and a few K-5 pistols with high explosive tips." Milan answered.
"That's it?"
"That's all we can get through the black market. Any more and they'd know something was up. We don't want anyone to think we're planning a revolution, even criminals and felons."
"No honor among thieves, is it?"
"None at all."
Trant fingered his chin, musing on the outcomes of the fight. Being a shift leader for the Armory security, he knew the patrol routes of all the guards and the routine paths the drones made. With the right buttons pushed, he could override the security locks and cameras. It would be seen as an accidental conflict of orders and bring a halt order to all mechanized units. The only risk was how long he could leave the conflict alone, how long a window he could leave for Milan and his men.
'I know they can get in and out in a few minutes, but if they want to take all the weapons they have ordered, then they need more men and a bigger risk. If they get detected then any nearby patheons will come to inspect, and we'll be done for.'
"Well, it's gonna be risky business to get in and out as quick as you can."
"Nothing risked, nothing gained." Shawl murmured, a phrase she took a liking to. "We're willing to do whatever necessary to get those weapons and armor."
"That's all well and fine, but I can only spare about ten minutes for you to do the deed. It'll take two minutes to get from the opposite end of the street to the storehouse and two minutes back. You'll only have six to pick up your things and get the hell out."
"We can deal with that."
Trant nodded, murmuring to himself. "Of course."
"So do you have the schematics of the armory?" Milan asked.
He reached into an inner pocket of his overcoat and drew out a folded paper. He opened it and smoothed it out on the table, the others leaning in to see what it was. "Behold, the floorplans of Armory Thirteen."
"Wow." Pic whistled. "Pretty twisted looking place."
"It's part of the safety measures. The corridors are all twisted and interconnect at odd places to make it tougher to get in and out without running by someone. It also helps to slow down anyone who'd try to get the goods."
"No problem at all! It's less confusing than my home in the pipes, for sure." Hirondelle smirked. "Just gotta study it a bit and remember how many lefts and rights you need."
"What about doors or keycodes?" Milan continued.
"Those will all be deactivated once I make the security system conflict. I can unlock the doors and open the automated ones for you, but that's all I can do without leaving my station."
"Why don't you help us, then?" Pic asked.
"He needs to act as if nothing is wrong for the time being." Milan replied. "If he works with us to get the materials out, it'll immediately draw suspicion to thievery. He'll be outside to check on a noise around the fence for our ten minutes, then return and 'discover' the conflict. That way it looks like a random error instead of sabotage."
Pic held a blank look for a moment. "Oh. Well, that makes sense."
Milan nodded, looking to Hirondelle and Cale. "So, how many men do you have willing to go with us?"
"I found lotsa others willing to fight Neo-Arcadia, that was no problem! The problem is only two of 'em are willing to go in the armory to carry things."
"I can vouch for three more to go, and I have almost fifty others who'll take part in the revolt." Cale added.
"So then it's you five, plus five more." Trant paused a moment to work some quick math in his head. "...Alright, you should be able to carry four rifles over your shoulders and carry a crate of things each. Remember that the crates are labeled with exactly what they have, so try and get weapons first and then any uniforms you can spare. Better to be armed than armored."
"Right." Milan nodded.
"So what will you do with the people who don't have weapons to fight with?" Trant crossed his arms. "I know you're all up for a revolution, but what about the ones who don't want to fight?"
"While we're making our strikes against the targets in the city, we'll have a separate team lead the non-combatants to a temporary haven in the ruins to the south. After we cause enough havoc, we'll disappear into the population and make our way to the ruins separately so we don't risk them if someone follows us."
"What about the Twilight Desert?"
"We can avoid most of it if we follow the magrail line that connects Neo-Arcadia to the ruins. After that we can cross the wilderness along the coast and pass through the Anatre Forest until we get close to Cragspoint. That city still has many freedoms that reploids don't enjoy here, and if that fails, we can always start working to send people to other lands with lesser governments."
"...What lesser governments? Last I heard Neo-Arcadia was the only real governing body left aside from the small factions that cling to the Megacity structure."
"There are places of freedom left, Trant, so don't worry about it. I'll see that everyone gets away safely, here or elsewhere."
The security reploid sighed, staring at the impetuous revolutionary before him. To think that people like him still existed was a surprise, especially from the ranks of the civilian security corps. Perhaps it was being a dog of Arcadia that made him yearn for freedom. "You're a rare man, Milan."
"I know." He nodded solemnly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to meet with Doctor Ciel and finalize my plans with her. We'll meet once more before Trant begins his shift, so everyone get a good night's rest. Tomorrow we gather our strength and make our move."
A chorus of goodnights follows Milan as he left the ancient grounds of the city park, now a rusted and overgrown testament to the oppression of Neo-Arcadia's rule.
>>>
The public halls of Neo-Arcadia were filled with monuments of progress and images of history. The government, once a mere plaything of the Maverick Hunter X, had many colorful times in it's history. Models of past tribulations, markers in the development of the governmental structure, and an entire bank of pictures dedicated to those lost in the wars regarding reploids and mavericks. Neo-Arcadia wished to be interconnected with the populace it served, and so had as many of it's doors open for them to walk through and see the process go on.
Despite the atmosphere, Milan still felt more nervous than a reploid ought to be. Security was invisible, and dressed in his only outfit aside from his green uniform, he looked as innocent and unsuspecting as any other human or reploid around. He still felt eyes on his back, as if the government workers were staring at him as if he was next on the list to be sent away for his 'retirement'.
'Come on, don't pay attention to them. Just keep going, one foot in front of the other. I just have to meet with Doctor Ciel in the central plaza, then take her for some coffee at a local shop to talk about future negotiations with Neo-Arcadia's policy on reploid rights. We've met before. This isn't anything out of the ordinary.'
His feet took him down the hall depicting the tumultuous history of reploid kind, many one of a kind pieces placed along the walls. From their meager start in the region of Japan to worldwide integration, the first of many maverick uprisings and the escalation of violence between them and the Hunters who battled them; The rise and fall of Repliforce, the Eurasia Cataclysm, the Nightmare Plague, and the Elf Wars that nearly ended all life upon the planet. One painting gave a stark image of the battle, humans and reploids all burning beneath the omnipresent entity of chaos and destruction, the Dark Elf surrounded in a dark and unholy aura. The hall ended with a large holographic image of the four Guardian generals and their superior, Master X, standing as pillars of hope for the new world.
'Hardly anyone lived to tell these stories, and it's people like them who will make it dark and wicked. I hope that what we do will bring an end to this kind of meaningless bloodshed, for humans and reploids alike...'
Passing out of the hall, Milan entered the vast plaza located at the center of the Neo-Arcadia government district. It was made in the image of a traditional Japanese park, filled with numerous ponds and bridges crafted in the finest detail. Cherry blossom tress coated the grassy land, their pink buds almost gone with the ending of spring. He walked quietly down the gravel paths, looking at each bench for a familiar face. It was near the center, where a fountain stood in the largest lake, that he found the person he sought.
"Good evening, Doctor." He announced.
She turned quickly, her ever present smile widening. "Hello, Milan."
"I'm glad you could come."
"It's no problem." She patted the space next to her. "Take a seat."
"We really should talk somewhere else." He insisted.
"Sit. I'd like to enjoy this place for a little while longer."
Hesitating, Milan took the place next to Ciel and let his eyes wander over the smooth waters of the lake. The fountain, an atypical goldfish, spouted water from its mouth to pierce the lake and create a gentle white noise throughout the area. The ambiance helped to settle his nerves. Perhaps for a human the effect held a greater feeling than his own could understand.
"Don't you think this is a nice place, Milan?"
He glanced at her, curious. "It's peaceful. Calm. A necessary thing when the world seems so troubled."
"I actually helped plan the layout of this park when Master X wished to do something to ease the public stress. It's become very popular since it opened two years ago."
"It's the first time I've seen it."
"I make it a habit to visit once a day, even just for a moment." She stood up, smoothing her dark magenta coat down. "I don't want to forget that the world used to be simpler than it is. A person can get so wrapped up in work that they forget the simple things in life."
"That's understandable." Milan stood as well, eyes scanning the area.
She turned to face him, visibly holding herself back from getting emotional. "Well, shall we go?"
He smiled, offering an arm. "Okay."
They stood and began the long walk towards the outside world, looking around them as if fleeing paradise to reside within the horror of reality. It was unavoidable, however. Soon even a place such as this would no longer be safe for reploids to enjoy, and soon no place on earth would be suitable for them. Both Ciel and Milan wished to bring a stop to humanity's genocidal war against reploid-kind, hoping to find some way to calm the fears that plagued the populace. When they stepped into the main lobby of the governments public sectors, they knew it would be the last time they would ever come here.
"Um! Miss Ciel?" A voice called from behind.
They stopped and faced the speaker, seeing a reploid walking to them. He was dressed in a typical uniform of a government employee, yet his long blonde hair caught them as something unique among all the others.
"Yes?"
"Ah...I was asked by General Harpuia to see if you'll be attending the monthly board meeting tomorrow evening?"
She did well to maintain a calm air. "I have a previous engagement to attend, so let him know I might be a little late."
"I'll do just that, Miss."
"Normally Harpuia doesn't talk to me of those meetings. Was there a special occasion?"
"I'm not sure...he just told me to find you and ask is all."
"Well, thank you for doing that, mister..."
He looked flustered. "E-Eplizo, Miss Ciel."
"Eplizo. Thank you."
"You're welcome, Miss! Have a good day." The reploid quickly walked off, glancing back as if fearing a harsh look from the scientist.
Milan glanced over to Ciel, and she looked back to him with a confused expression. Obviously she wasn't expecting someone to seek her out with something as trivial as that. Putting it aside, she resumed her casual pace towards the glass doors and the streets outside. They left the building and came into the rush and bustle of the downtown streets. People walked in droves along the sidewalks, cars and hovercraft speeding down the streets or waiting impatiently in traffic.
"So where shall we go?" She asked her escort.
"To the crossroads." He looked around, constantly scanning for any kind of threat to her safety. "We'll be meeting with the others and making our last plans before starting the revolt."
"Crossroads?"
"It's an open air coffee shop about a half kilometer from here, one of our safe meeting places in the city. We should take a subway to get there faster."
"Okay. Lead on."
>>>
"Check time."
Everyone made a mental note of the time, their internal clocks synchronized with one another's and marked with indicators at zero, two, eight, and ten minutes after one AM. Ten precious seconds to ransack the armory of everything they could carry. Shawl and Pic waited nervously as the seconds passed by, fingering their pistols in case of trouble. They were laden with large packs and cases, anything with a pouch that could hold a gun or ammunition or aid in taking materials from inside to the outside.
"One minute." Shawl whispered. "Check yourself and check your mate."
Everyone gave the other a looking over, making sure their outfits were tucked in and snug, that bags were strapped tight to the backs and nothing was exposed to clatter or make unnecessary noise. The redhead took a last measure of her plasma pistol's charge, the reader showing full power and no errors. Since she wasn't given proper clearance to have energy transfer nodes in her palm, the pistol would only have a limited amount of use before running dry. Only Trant and Milan had those built into their hands.
'No time to worry about my lackings. I only hope that I can find those nodes somewhere inside so we can make better use of those guns.'
"Fifteen seconds." Pic called, lowering himself for the sprint to the doors.
Everyone, ten people in all, stood and got ready to start the operation. Time crawled on its heels in a hope to delay this event. It mattered little, and time caught up and the security drones along the walls and the fence died with a snuffing of red lights.
"GO!" Shawl barked, pushing off to run for the doors.
The ten man team raced to the doors in the fence, passing through as they opened automatically. They reached the armory proper and pushed the door open, Shawl at point and Pic at the rear to provide protection. They ran down the halls and through open doors, pausing only to open a manually knobbed door to proceed. In two minutes they shoved open a heavy blast door and entered kids in a candy store heaven. Guns, ammo, and armored suits lay in orderly rows amidst crates and boxes filled with stores.
"Guns first, then ammo, then suits." Shawl reminded her crew, sliding an armful of rifles against her shoulder.
Everyone grabbed and tugged, pulling out suits and cooperating to heft boxes into an easy position to carry. Pic appeared a walking coat rack, arms filled with nearly a dozen suits and two berets donning his head.
"Where's the plasma weapons?" Someone asked. "I can't find them."
"Keep looking, they must be somewhere in here." Shawl ordered, checking through each crate and storage locker for the prized weapons of choice.
The internal clock ticked away, omnipresent time wearing at the raiders as they gathered as much as possible. When they looked ready to go, there was only two and a half minutes until the security would be reinstated. The plasma weapons weren't anywhere to be found.
"Let's move." Shawl ordered, lumbering to the doors and careful not to drop a thing.
"What about the-"
"Forget about them, we'll make due with what we got." She barked.
The ten ran back the way they came, not stopping to rest or look for any danger to their mission. Doors flew by, and halls were a blur to the memory. The grounds outside the armory yet within the walls were carefully maintained grasses and stone paths, a strangely innocent setting for the destructive power inside those walls. They passed through the doors in the fence, ran across the bright street, entered an alley, then faded from view and disappeared into the dark murk of the underground. Ten seconds later the security measures came back to life, and one reploid played the part of a stunned security guard as he sealed the walls again as if nothing was wrong in the world.