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11.04.2011

Chapter 1-2: Opening Moves - The Battle of Las Vegas


Richard- United Human Faction- Night 1

            Richard walked out of the bar to see riots breaking out on the strip. He quietly made his way to the Jeep to find John talking on his phone. The veteran looked his partner in the eyes, making it obvious he was not to be disturbed. Richard took the hint and began climbing up a ladder on the side of a nearby building. From the roof, he could see the first battle of the war beginning. Anyone with something as deadly as a shoe was in the street, ready to fight. On every side were rioters, led by unmistakably marked Faction members. It would have looked like complete chaos to the untrained eye, but Richard could see the methods of his peers. There was a set of stars and stripes in the middle of the street, and an army of revolutionaries on every side. The Faction would win this skirmish, as a bulldozer fueled by the rage of the heartbroken and the lost.
            “Is this what we signed up for?” asked John, climbing up behind him.
            “It’s the start of something new,” replied Richard.
            “Is that what the pamphlet said?”
            John knew Richard was not the laughing type, and didn’t wait for a response.
            “Carlos has a base set up. We need to meet him before sunrise.”
            As the pair left the city, the Battle of Las Vegas was nearing its conclusion. By the morning, there would not be a single Loyalist left on the strip. Every television and computer would be linked to Faction networks, the feather would mark every building, and every man, woman, and child would lose immunity as a civilian at a time of war.
            John kept an eye on their captive as they drove closer to their destination. The desert night was oppressively dark, with no moon to guide them. Richard, having grown up in the city, was unnerved for the first time since John had met him. John was unnerved as well. The call to Carlos hadn’t seemed normal. Something was wrong. There was no hiding it.
            The Senator started to wake up in the back seat. He quickly acquainted himself to his new situation, and brushed off his coat with his hands. Richard pulled out his weapon, but the politician was not willing to give in to his circumstances.
            “You’re not going to stop me from talking,” he said, smugly. Facing John, he continued, “Your friend here doesn’t seem to understand that a hostage needs to be alive to be useful. Tell him to put away the gun, and I can tell you what you need to know about our little… predicament.”
            Honestly curious, John told Richard to comply. The revolver hesitantly returned to its holster.
            “Now that we’re more comfortable, my name is Senator Jeremy Glass,” the now-less-then prisoner began, “and you are the members of an organization that has some use for me. Since I’m going to find out later anyways, could you please tell me who exactly I am held captive by?”
            Richard glanced worriedly at John, who gave an honest answer after only a second of consideration.
            “Good, I’m glad you’re going to be civilized about this. Now, your leaders are, no doubt, more than a little peeved that they have to spend extra money for gasoline, the war efforts-“
            “Efforts?” Richard interrupted.
            “You don’t honestly think that Pakistan is our only enemy, do you? More to the point, someone got angry and decided to make a secret society, no? But, you see, he, she, or it did not realize that this would not be the only organization vying for power in the wake of the destruction of the United States. I am not just a Senator. I am a revolutionary, just like you, and I have my own agenda once this conflict ends.”

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