The Resistance

Clint stared at the small handgun that sat on the table. It was old, defective and more useful as a paperweight. After the resistance fell, Clint could relate a lot to that simple handgun. Feeling underappreciated wasn’t anything, but feeling useless was a pain that never lost its sting.

​Clint was the one who sent Roxy after Smithy, especially after the story he heard from the Rat. There wasn’t anything wrong with going against the federation, but doing it so openly by building a bomb in your own apartment is just reckless. Luckily it was the Resistance that got to Smithy first or this rebel would be as dead as all the others.

“Kid, how did you even think you would plant the bomb?” Clint asked him before taking a long drag from his cigarette. “There is being reckless and there is being goddamn stupid. Rarely you have smart in this venture, so I hope I’m wrong in assuming you didn’t have a plan.”

Smithy sat across from Clint with the gun pointing straight at him. Roxy undermined Clint’s authority a litt by having her feet up on the meeting table.

“I did have a plan,” Smithy argued half-heartedly. “I know somebody in refuge and disposal. He wouldn’t help me with this, of course, but I knew where he kept his spare uniform. With that I could get past first and secondary security.”

Clint rubbed his chin, half-listening. Smithy wasn’t just ambitious, but his intel all depended on actions that were easier said than done. There was, however, some potential in the kids spirit. A certain energy to fight back against the federation. Clint wondered if this kid was the only one, pondering the idea of rebuilding the resistance. Of course, this thought didn’t go so far when he was reminded what happened to the others.

“Shut it, kid,” Clint grunted. “There is nothing you could do to get passed their security and a matching uniform with no proper identification is enough to get you shot on sight.”

“Don’t be hard on him,” Roxy murmured. “The only thing this kid needs is a little inside help.”

“And who is going to give it to him?”

Clint leered at Roxy, but she simply shrugged it off.

“Listen, I didn’t call you here so you can pitch your idea to us, kid,” Clint explained. “There is so much damage done to this city and its people that you won’t get help from anyone else but us and we aren’t helping you. We brought you down here because you got noticed by the federation and it was Roxy here who pulled you out of public eye before the soldiers knocked your door down and repainted your room.”

Smithy stared down at his lap and the small invention. If there was anything more crushing in this world it was hearing your idol criticize you and your ideas. Clint felt nothing for this sadness, but Roxy on the other hand rolled her eyes and sighed.

“Honestly, a shot is all we need to take down the federation of London,” Roxy shrugged. “One shot can make all the difference if we work at making it hit.”

Clint scowled at at Roxy, but didn’t say anything in reply. Those were his words after all.

“I will help you, Smithy,” Roxy added. “And I’m sure I can give the Rat some convincing as well. He isn’t against the saving of our people, even if it means less profits for him at the end of the day.”

Roxy laughed at this, but Smithy didn’t find it funny. For all the time that has passed he never considered the Rat as a man only in it for the money, so the joke was lost on him. Clint noticed this and felt even more annoyed that a man like the Rat could become so loved by the people. It was mostly likely due to the fact he was the only one doing anything for the people. That thought was sickening enough for Clint to sigh loudly.

“If that is how you are going to be, Roxy, then I will help as well,” Clint muttered. “Who knows, I might save the people along with your ass if this goes bad.”

“I think we will save everyone if we play this hand right,” Roxy replied.

To this, Smithy smiled. Confidence previously shattered was so easily built in that instant. He still was unsure about Clint, but there was something about both of them that gave the impression that what was about to happen would be an important moment in history.

“Uniforms, as I said before, won’t cut it,” Clint told the others later in the day, once the Rat returned to the hideout. “The federation keeps a database on every employee in their system, along with every person outside of it. Technology has come too far to let anyone with a disguise pass around above ground, so we’re going to have to inject a new group of people into the system. In particular, four individuals who happen to be employed by the federation in waste management. It isn’t a cushy job, but if done right we won’t be working longer than a day.”

As Clint ran over the plan to infiltrate the database building he explained to Smithy that the guards that he saw on the streets were nothing like the ones employed to protect the federation.

These were soldiers in armours that made them into behemoths of death and destruction. Virtually unstoppable to most attacks, but thanks to a little investigation on a captured soldier the resistance were able to find a few weak points that could be attacked with blade.

It wasn’t much, but it was better than hugging the soldiers to death. When Smithy asked what the resistance did with the soldier they looked at each other grimly.

“You must understand this now, kid,” Clint murmured. “These soldiers are no longer men. They don’t need to eat, drink or sleep. Essentially they are life preserved by the death of innocents. If we didn’t disable that one’s energy core he would have detonated an internal bomb that would level a city block.”

At this, Smithy learned that the federation would not hesitate to end his life if he hesitated to end theirs.