Dear all.
Apologies for the micro chapter, still haven't thought of a decent excuse for it yet either
Enjoy
The town was your picturesque European village, with steep slanting red tiled roofs, crusted with leaves that hadn't been cleared since many autumn's ago. Socially, the town was doing quite well, with small business' dominating the streets, just like olden times, before anyone had even dreamed of supermarkets. The town had probably fallen to the SFF-like hands without force, maybe with hope of finding allies there, but only ever received a crude mockery of justice and security in return.
The rhythmic squelching of rotten debris in the gutters of the road was the only sound we made, as Jess and I silently made our way into the village. We were to investigate the village, and make contact with an agent embedded in the village. She had a house and a small business looking out into the main square of the town, ideal for observation.
As we neared the cold steel gates, encrusted with bloodied barbed wire from years of adult assault, the silhouette of a watchful guard rose defiantly into the yellow spotlight of the sun. Spotting him, we readied our papers. Despite their crude form, they were our only way into the town.
Excluding violence.
"Papers please"
A thick, Irish accent emerged from a mockery of a guard hut to our left. After a few seconds, joint smoldering in his hand, someone who would have passed as a tramp in appearance staggered drunkenly forward. His scarf was pulled tightly round his scrawny, starving neck, and the remains of his hunting jacket hung loose, covered in a fine layer of ash from his weed. His red armband was sodden with what looked like lager, but smelt worse.