New chapter written by our new CO-Author, xxJulyRainxx! Enjoy!

Clive sighed as he straightened the brown tie around his neck yet again to calm his nerves. He understood that he couldn't carry out his plan alone, but he couldn't help worry about his recruitment plan. Shipley had made sure to stress the fact that, no, this plan was not safe and that there must be a better way. Clive assured him that it was fine, but he couldn't deny that it was very risky. He had been in the papers many times due to his… incarceration, so there was definitely a chance that someone might recognize him. He would have to be careful.
Clive placed a copper-coloured cap on his head to complete his disguise, one not unlike the clothes he sported as "Future Luke". He raised his eyes to check himself in the broken full-length mirror in front of him. He had tried his best to wear plain hues to avoid being noticed, choosing only shades of brown. He actually thought that he was being quite daring when he decided to wear a blazer of a shade of green that most people would refer to as olive.
He ducked down to take a look at his head in the bottom portion of the mirror, as a particularly big crack in the glass at the top of the mirror prevented him from doing so standing at his full height. The shadow created by the brim of his cap made it a bit difficult for him to see his face in detail and covered a larger part of his hair ( compared to his navy hat, at least ), which Clive thought was just what he needed. It he had a hard time looking in a mirror, it would be even more difficult for pedestrians to see his face as they walked past him on the streets.
Clive stood up again and made his way to the front door of the building, but not before crossing the room again to stick a note he had written earlier, addressed to Shipley, visible on the mirror he had used. Then he opened the door and made his way back above ground to London.

Shipley sat next to the clean, white hospital bed reading the day's papers. He looked up from the reading material as a knock came from the door and a nurse entered. The name tag on her uniform said Maria Foster.
"Hello, Mr. Shipley. I'm just here to check on Miss Flora, see if she's comfortable," she explained in a cheerful tone. It sounded practiced, like she'd had to feign the emotion before. She probably had, with other coma patients' families and friends.
The doctors had told Shipley that Flora was suffering from a coma, caused by blunt trauma to the head. Of course, he hadn't told them the real cause of the head injury. He had simply told them that she had suffered from a very hard fall when she had tripped on the way down some stairs and onto the glass surface of a table at home. He hoped they didn't think of it as suspicious and unrealistic. It would certainly make things easier for everyone.
After she had left, Shipley put his newspaper down and moved to the door. He needed to get back to their base underground. He looked back at Flora, lying in the hospital bed, a web of cords and IV drips jutting out of her arms and hands. The poor girl didn't deserve to have been so brutally attacked.
Shipley sighed and wished the best to Flora's recovery before heading out the door.

Clive had forgotten just how populated the real London was. All he could do was stand in the middle of the side walk getting pushed around by impatient pedestrians, looking back at glares with a semi-startled expression.
He mentally shook his head, trying to focus more on his goal. All he needed to do was find some people who believed in the same ideas he did: that Bill Hawks was a dangerous, unjust, and reckless man whose crimes should be recognized by the public. But to be honest, he had no idea where he would even find people still discussing Clive's actions a few years ago.
He was off to a great start.
Not knowing where to start, he started walking to a nearby park, near the heart of the city, which was close by to where "Future London" used to be. Upon entering the park, he noticed something he hadn't seen in the past.
There was a plaza-like area in the center of the circular park, where the ground was of paved stone and surrounded along the edge by some wooden benches. Those had always been there, Clive remembered. But while the park from the past had an open space in the middle of the plaza, now there was a giant black stone block taking up a large portion of the circle's area. Some people were gathered around the big sculpture, he guessed he could call it, talking amongst them or just staring at it in silence. That was when he noticed the tiny golden letters etched into the entire surface of the rock, groups of two or more words separated from one another by a tiny golden dot. They were arranged neatly, in straight rows winding all the way around the entire sculpture surface. There was a plaque on the ground in front of the huge slab. It said in a formal looking font, "Great London Tragedy Memorial – Registered Deaths". Clive felt his eyes widen in surprise.
He never read about any of this in the newspaper, only the registered death and injury toll. Fortunately, the ratio of injury to death was higher (it had to be noted that Clive was only thankful that there weren't as many deaths as there could have been, not of the fact that people had been injured or had perished in the first place).
"I'm not saying that this was the right way to go about it," he heard man say, "But don't you agree that this Clive Dove fellow opened up peoples' eyes on the crimes Bill Hawks committed?"
"Samuel, can't we talk about this later? Not here, at least. It seems… disrespectful to agree with you in front of this memorial."
"Well, you sort of already did that, Olivia…"
"Um, excuse me?" This time there was a new voice. It was another woman, but now someone with a much softer and shy tone. "I'm terribly sorry for overhearing your conversation, but…"
The voice paused for a moments before continuing. "I didn't think that anyone had the same view on Bill Hawks…"
At this point, Clive was enraptured in the strangers' conversation and decided to look up into their direction. He saw two women and a man, just as he suspected, standing next to the dark statue. One was wearing a long dress and had long, dark hair that she used to supposedly hide herself. The other two resembled each other greatly, with the same distinct strawberry blonde hair and hazel eyes, although the man had a warm and welcoming gaze while the woman had a cooler, almost judgmental look. Clive could tell that they were siblings, possibly even twins, due to their resemblance.
"Really? That's great! We really didn't think anyone thought the same way as us, either!" The man, Samuel, said while laughing lightheartedly. "I have so much to discuss with you! How about we go over to that café around the corner? Oh, what's the name…? Liv, what was the café's name again?"
His question was met with a terrifying glare from "Olivia", which made the other girl's eyes widen and Samuel laugh again, this time nervously. Clive couldn't help but let out a chuckle as well, as the other young man started to back away from the staring lady, step by step.
"Samuel, how rude of you! We don't even know this young lady's name yet," Olivia said in a clipped voice. The other girl looked like she didn't know how to react to their banter.
Clive stood up and casually walked over to the group of three. They looked in his direction as he stepped closer and closer, and he saw the blue eyes of the quiet woman show signs of recognition. She showed signs of gasping but quickly covered her mouth when the two siblings looked at her in confusion. He began to speak when he finally reached the group, standing close enough so that only they could hear him.
"I'm sure at least one of you recognizes me," he said, smiling slightly. "Which might not be a good thing, as I'm trying to do the opposite of that." He laughed.
God, he was nervous.

"Hey, wait a minute- you're-!" Samuel began, eyes widening as well, before being cut off by Olivia.
"You're both being too suspicious. Tone it down a little, act natural," she said airily. "Hello, Mr. Clive Dove. As you can see, we're very surprised to see you here. Aren't you supposed to be in prison?" Her words were flowing and her voice never showed any signs that she was talking to an escaped criminal. Clive thought that her acting was impressive and her collected composure admirable.
"Well, yes, but…" he looked down and reached up to scratch his head sheepishly. "I may have escaped to carry out my new plan. Nothing quite like what I did years ago. I agree that I wasn't in a right state of mind back then, always thinking of revenge. This new plan, though, will help us expose Bill Hawks and bring him down from his position as prime minister for good."
He paused for a breath. He couldn't help his words from falling out of his mouth so rushed. "I heard you all discuss your views on our dear prime minister, and I want to make an offer."
"Mr. Dove, if I may interrupt, please?" Everyone was surprised to see that it wasn't Olivia that had spoken, but the unnamed young woman that hadn't spoken a word since seeing Clive walk towards them. He nodded.
"Of course, Miss…?"
"Nelson. My name is Sarah Nelson. As I was about to say," she said in a voice that sounded barely above a whisper to the other group members, "I really don't think it would be wise to discuss this plan here, in this popular park. Perhaps we could move to the café that Mr. Samuel was talking about?"
"I believe you're right. By the way, I'm Olivia Patterson. Samuel is my twin brother," Olivia spoke to Sarah. "The café is called The Aroma House, if I remember correctly. We could discuss things further there."
"But I want to know what you're trying to propose first!" Samuel exclaimed, curious.
"I suppose it can't hurt to tell you that part here," Clive said. "What I am trying to do is look for new recruits who share the same ideas and views that I have. Of course, you may think about this offer, but I want you three to be the first new members of our team."