OOC is here, but we're pretty full-up.
post345207.html#p345207


The year is 2057. America, for those who live outside, seems like nothing has changed. But those who live there know better.

In the year 2057, America has changed.
The current President is more like a dictator.
And the American citizens have no privacy.

There is a video camera on every street. In every house. In every room. Everyone's job is decided at birth, along with who they will marry, and how many children they will have. They work 12 hours a day, every day, and do not go to school, instead being taught their job and only their job. So much of a mutter about treason or unhappiness with the government could get you killed. Everyone is rationed food, due to the rising population, because people are not allowed to leave the US.

In a country where people are everything but free, one group stands up against the government, called the Rebellion. They have connections, ways to take out cameras, and ways to meet without being caught. This group is now rising up across America. Nearly every city has a Rebellion group. And a Rebellion leader for each state.

But what happens when the founders, [insert number of people playing here] people who lead the Rebellion, get careless, and get captured? They are all tied up and gagged and blindfolded, thrown into a dark room to wait. Two days later, each of the leaders is interrogated, and given the choice to live and betray the Rebellion, or else. Each of the leaders chooses "or else". But, when they choose this, they don't come back to the room where the others wait. They are each thrown into a separate room. And the only people who know what goes on in those rooms, are the occupants. Cue the shudders.

The last leader, scared out of his/her wits, finally breaks and reveals the secrets of the Rebellion. He/she is set free, if you can call their way of life free. The rest were kept in the rooms for months, until finally being set free, and only then because they had connections. The Rebellion was broken up, and America went back to its life of misery, hopes crushed.

By a single Traitor.

It's been three years since then, and the old leaders of the Rebellion see signs of it rising again. Everything is there. Mysterious dissapearances from work. Absence from home. The leaders either choose to join the new Rebellion or stay in their miserable lives. But what if another Traitor rises? Better yet, no one knows who the traitor is. What if the traitor joins the New Rebellion?

All this is up to you.
----------------------------

" Yeah, yeah, I know..... Dad!! What was I supposed to do? Sit around and watch while--..... I understand that, but.... ugh. This is why I didn't ask you!! " Zee flipped off her cell phone, not bothering to say goodbye to her father, the Vice President to the madman who was the dictato-- President-- of the US.

Zee fumed. So the old man had finally found out, eh? So what? She had been in the old Rebellion, and done just fine-- well, okay, not fine, but that wasn't the point. The point was, she was not going to sit around and be miserable while there was a chance to lift the misery from the shoulders of all Americans. Not while they could all be free.

The dark brown bob bounced around Zee's face, her green eyes showing fury behind them. She was wearing the White House uniform-- a forest green, long-sleeved top with the American Flag on it, and a black skirt with little stars emblazoned on its edges--, along with her usual elbow-long, fingerless black gloves, the ones that always made her seem suspicious, like they were hiding something. Which they were. Zee worked at the White House, learning politics and such. But Zee couldn't care less about politics. She just wanted some freedom.

Zee stalked around her room, which served as the commanding headquarters to the New Rebellion. It didn't look like much-- just a room, painted lime green with a bean bag chair, a twin bed, some dressers, a nightstand, and a desk on top of which stood her desktop.

The desk was the key. Under it was a secret button, which opened communications with the rest of the New Rebellion. And the desktop contained all of their information. Not the safest place, but hey-- what could you do? Zee sat down at the desk and pushed the button, securing a pair of headphones to her ears as the familiar fuzz came and went, and then listened for anyone. She typed in a 64-digit code onto the desktop, and watched as screens appeared on the empty blue background. Scenes of bedrooms, offices, etc. Soon, those screens would be occupied by people involved in the New Rebellion.
" Hey, guys, " Zee spoke into the mic on her headphones, " We have to talk. "

Xaelis dreamt of the old days, the Old Rebellion, her mother. Being one of the oldest members, as in, been there longest, close to it, Xaelis knew the drill.

It didn't take long to get up, get dressed into proper semi-formal attire after a seven minute shower and grab a bagel with smeared on cream-chese for breakfast.

Memories filled her mind with thoughts of the past, how there was only one, maybe multiple, traitors amongst the Rebellion. How could someone spill it out like that? Xaelis, undoubtedly, was amongst the most loyal to the pack.

A thin smile framed her petite frontispiece as her laptop dinged in an awkward tone, just as she placed in a long, secretive code, one that could only mean one thing.

The New Rebllion has started.

Xaelis kept her room clean, a slight perfectionist of sorts, and when one would look around, they'd see a room lined with purple, all at least, aside from her black and white striped curtains.

Just as instantly as the ding was heard, windows, multiple, popped up showing offices, rooms, and there sat Zee.

The smile on her face broadened and her blue eyes sparkled as Xaelis saw her old friend,
"Zee," She said to the girl on the other side of the computer, through a built in webcam with a microphone attached,
"How long has it been?"

Surinelle heard the ding on her laptop indicating activity on her webcam system. She glanced and saw that it was Zee and Xaelis, members of the Old Rebellion, just like her. Surinelle looked out the window at the streets of Miami, Florida from the view of her office building. She worked for the Miami Heroad, a newspaper, that didn't even print the real truth, just the things that the goverment wanted everyone to hear.

She quickly became excited. She had sensed that the Rebellion had been stirring, and here two old members were sitting. Surinelle brushed the dark curls out of her face and put on her headset and typed the secret code, which had become more secretive because of the whole incident where one of the old members betrayed the rebellion. Anger stirred inside her. She hadn't the clue who would, could even do such a thing, but one thing was for sure. It certainly wasn't her.

"Xaelis, Zee." Surinelle breathed. "Last time I saw you two was three years ago, but it feels like an eternity my friends."

The phone rang on Professor Smith's desk. The number on the caller ID was unfamiliar, so he allowed it to pass into his voicemail. A stack of papers sat on his desk, the result of a recent U.S. Government & Politics exam. He'd already passed out several failing grades, and a failing grade in U.S. Government & Politics could mean trouble. After a minute or two, a beep sounded from Randall's phone, signaling that someone had indeed left a message. Reluctantly, he pressed the Mailbox button.

"Mr. Smith, you have one unheard message. Would you like to hear it now?" a woman's voice chimed happily from the speaker.

"Yes, play it, please," Randall replied, checking to make sure that his office door was locked.

A miniature hologram of a tall, Caucasian man appeared above a round platform in front of the phone. It began to speak, gesticulating animatedly with its arms. "Randall, it's me, Richard. I have reports of increased activity along secured information lines. We'd like you to look into it as soon as possible. Oh, and your father sends his regards. He's quite happy with all the long hours you've been putting into this project. Call me when you have any results!"

Beep. Well, it wasn't the news he was hoping for, but at least there were more leads opening up. Several sources had been informing Randall of the possibility of a reignited Rebellion, but reports had been untrustworthy, at best. He sighed heavily and retrieved a large briefcase from under his desk. After dragging it to an open spot on the floor, he pressed a button concealed beneath the handle and it sprung into motion - a large, metal pillar sprouted from the top of the briefcase and several metal panels opened automatically, revealing several monitors paired with keypads. After a few beeps and processing noise, the contraption stood fully open and ready to use.

"Good day, Mr. Smith. How can I be of service today?"

"Find me Shelley Winters, 2416 Paradise Drive. I need to pay her a visit shortly."

"Yes, right away, Mr. Smith. Shall I prepare your car?"

"No need, thank you."

As the computer buzzed away in search of its query, there was a loud knock at the door followed by a click and a jingle. "Mr. Smith, are you in there?"

"Yeah, who is it?"

"Housekeeping," the voice replied.

"Housekeeping, at this hour?" Randall asked himself softly. Shrugging his shoulders, he placed one hand on the hilt of a hidden knife sheathed in his belt before walking towards the door and opening it a crack. The man standing outside was short, a bit plump and looked distinctly foreign.

"Could you come back later?" Randall said, looking carefully at the man for any suspicious clothing that could be concealing a weapon, tracking device, recorder or other method of subterfuge. "I'm rather busy right now."

"I need to clean now, Mr. Smith. Our office is closing!" the man replied loudly. "It will only take a few moments!"

"There's no need to shout," Randall replied irritably. "Just give me a moment and-"

Whoosh. Something flew past Randall's head into the room. A loud explosion was followed by the sound of shattering glass. Acting on instinct, Randall just barely avoided a flying piece of metal that lodged itself into his office door. The foreign man had already taken flight, pelting down the hallway in an attempt to reach the stairs, but he would never reach his destination. He fell to the floor, a pool of blood forming rapidly from a gaping hole in his neck, a long, silver knife jutting out at an angle.

"Now, who sent you, hm?" Randall pondered to himself as he walked over to examine the body. "Not a very good attempt, I'm afraid."

Randall sighed. It wasn't in his blood to kill so thoughtlessly, but recently things had become more and more violent, including several attempts on his life. "Now how am I going to explain this to the real cleaning staff? Well, at least the equipment was unharmed." Sure enough, the device stood unscathed as if nothing had exploded in the room, although Randall's desk and the exam papers were history.

Marco leant back in his plush black, chair, placing his shiny boots up on the desk in front of him. He sighed regretfully, looking at his boots and thinking back to the days where he wasn't stuck behind a desk signing orders to give men guns which they go and kill themselves with.
Oh well.
The door buzzed and clicked open. Marco didn't turn, he could recognized Tara's footsteps anywhere. The young woman walked up and placed a folder on the side of his desk next to his boots. Then turned and walked out without uttering a word.
Blanct removed his boots from the desk and lent froward to read the folder. Another Munitions request. he skimmed through it, a basic request for ammo in the war ravaged mess that was
Poland. He signed it offhandedly and started to run his fingers over the polished wood of his desk. His computer chimed, dropping out of the screen saver of a billowing Flag. A request for a conversation from VPD. he accepted it and several windows opened up on the screen, one showing the 17 year old face of the VPD.
"yeah. want something?" he said, his mouth twitching into a grin.

" Hey, guys. I know it's early, but I can't stand to spend another second in that prison-- I mean, White House-- when I could be here. Gah, I hate politics. " Zee laughed, brushing a few stray strands of short, dark hair from her face and smiled, " But I thought I could get in a few minutes of planning before I go. "

" We need to recruit. A lot of people from the old Rebellion aren't showing their faces because they heard what happened. " At this, Zee paused to shudder a bit, although her face showed none of the true fear that haunted her dreams, and every waking moment of her life. It was always there, nagging-- like a mosquito, sucking away courage. But it didn't really become prominent until anyone mentioned the old Rebellion, or especially what had happened.

" Not publically. Just.... ugh, it's so frustrating!!! " Zee spun around in her chair, finally turning back to the computer.

" Any ideas? "

Xaelis looked around her room, she knew the government could easily tap into their laptops.

"I would come get you if I could, Zee," She smiled, showing her new car keys and taking a bite of her bagel. Xaelis loved bagels.

"What ever we do, we've got to speak quickly, have a new meeting spot, they could be watching," She said, instantly grabbing hold of worry.
Strawberry-colored hair bobed as Xaelis cocked her head to the side.

"Surinelle!" Xaelis smiled, upon seeing another old face.
"Indeed," She spoke softly, another ding sounded and before she knew it, a thin man, one she'd later find out named Marco, appeared in an office in one of the plenty screens on her laptop.

"Talk about recruiting," Xaelis grinned, motioning with her head to the new-comer.

"Maybe they will all come to us."

" Doubtful. " Zee sighed, then looked at the blue alarm clock by her bed. nearly 8.00.
" Damn, they'll be expecting me. See you guys. " And with that, the screen went black, the screens terminated and the webcam shut off. Zee slipped on a navy jacket, and busted out the door of her room.

She ducked into the buggy that her dad had bought her for her sixteenth birthday. It was a used car, of course-- the VP actually didn't make that much money. It was also lime green which was her favorite part. Zee flipped on the radio, some kind of techno playing. That was all there really was these days; techno with no words, or Government broadcasting.

" Your ten-minute music hour, brought to you by NAM. And now, for another broadcast from the White House. " Zee scowled, there was nearly no music that lasted more than ten minutes straight without going back to government broadcasting. It was somehow maddening. And now they were playing all the shit that the cronies up in office wanted you to hear.

Zee sighed and turned off the radio, rather preffering to make the drive in silence. DC was crowded, sure-- but now, people only had one place to go, so the streets were much less crowded. She finished the twenty minute drive, stepping out of the car in the parking lot near the White House.

That was another mad joke-- the only people allowed to live in the White House was the President and his family. The only time anyone else was there was during office hours-- 8am-8pm. She stepped out of the car and pushed through the door, standing over by the receptionist, Ms. Daniels.

" Hey Linda, what's on the list today? "
" Well, let's see. There's an economic discussion today-- your father's said you're going to attend. "
" Ugh. " Zee groaned, another useless meeting where the dictator who ruled the country would battle sane officials, winning and causing nothing to be done. She honestly didn't know why they even tried anymore.

Zee stalked off toward a conference room, in the direction that Linda pointed.

Amber was about to leave to go home when her phone rang. She looked at the caller ID. No number she recognized. But it did look familar. It looked a lot like....a number that she had seen three years ago. That phone call that changed her life. She decided to let the call go to voicemail and then call them back later. The Rebellion, she thought. She was sure that they had given up because the leaders had....been tortured...including her, even though she wasn't a leader. They just wanted her back to the military so they could use her. That dark room, she shuddered. She almost cracked in that dark room. No people, no light, no nothing. She thought she was going to die in there, but she made it out alive, and people pretended it never happened when she got out. That she never had killed half of the military, that she had to fight against her friends. Nothing. Nobody ever says anything about it.

She got home and drove into her driveway. She locked her car and went into her house. She opened her phone and called voicemail. "You have one new message. Play message?" it said. "Yes."

Randall grimaced a little as he pulled a small vial of clear liquid from his jacket, allowing a few drops to fall here and there on the ground. "That should do it," he said happily as the blood began to sizzle and turn into a sickly green smoke. The body was already taken care of, thrown into a large green dumpster outside of the campus grounds. He had already placed a call to local law enforcement to "discover" the body and classify it as a random homicide.

"Computer, you alright?" Randall asked, picking up pieces of his charred desk and laying it in a pile for later disposal.

"Yes, thank you, sir. Are you unhurt?"

"I'm fine. My students are going to be a little upset, however. I have no papers to grade. They'll just have to resubmit them."

"That should not be a problem, sir. Unless they failed to save them, of course."

"Right you are," Randall replied with a smirk. "What's the progress on the search?"

"I've found her, sir. She's currently at a friend's house in downtown Boston."

"Excellent, what's the address?"

"201 Chestnut Street. Shall I deliver the map to your car?"

"Yes, that would be great. Thank you."

Randall pushed a button on one of the keypads, entered a password and touched a red button that appeared on the monitor. After a few moments, the keypads folded back into the column, the monitors were covered and the entire device collapsed back into his briefcase. After taking one last disdainful look at the pile of rubbish in the corner of his office, he picked up his things and headed for his car.

Several professors greeted him along the way, commenting on his presence on campus at such a late hour. He made his way to his silver Mustang convertible and got inside, placing his briefcase and jacket on the passenger seat. "Alright, let's go find this Mrs. Winters."

The drive to Boston from Cambridge was relatively short, and within minutes he had arrived at the doorstep of 201 Chestnut Street. A quaint herb and flower garden graced the front lawn, along with several garish looking garden gnomes. A white picket fence surrounded the property, nicely matching the brilliant white paint on the house. A light was still on in the sitting room, and two distinct voices were chatting happily.

"Bingo," Randall said to himself happily, walking briskly up the cement walkway leading to the front door. Knock knock.

"Who could that be?" he heard one of the voices ask nervously.

"I don't know, Shelley. I'm not expecting anyone this late," the other voice replied.

A face appeared in the window just to the left of the front door. Randall knew from the photographs his computer provided that this was Victoria Ellington, owner of the house. "Good evening, Mrs. Ellington. My name is Randall Smith from Harvard University in Cambridge. I'm sorry to bother you at such a late hour, but I had a few questions about your son's enrollment."

"Oh dear, is he in trouble?" she replied nervously, immediately heading for the front door and opening it.

"Oh, no trouble, Mrs. Ellington. I've come to talk to you about his future after graduation. He's quite a brilliant student. The government is thinking of assigning him a job in politics, possibly the White House."

"Oh, that's wonderful news! Please, do come in!"

Randall stepped into the quaint sitting room where it appeared the two of them were having tea. After a few minutes of polite conversation about her son, Randall turned towards Shelley and introduced himself. "Hello, and who else do I have the pleasure to meet tonight?"

"Oh, my name is Shelley Winters," the woman answered with a slight blush.

"Ah, wonderful name, Shelley," Randall replied, flashing her an enchanting smile. She giggled and took a big gulp of tea. "Well, it seems you're just as enthusiastic about your son working for the White House. Has anyone else in your family been assigned a job there? It seems to run in the family, if I may say so. Your husband was a government official before his passing, was he not?"

"Oh, how did you know?" Victoria asked excitedly.

"Your son mentions him in almost every class."

"That's wonderful."

"And how about you, Miss Shelley," Randall said, turning towards her with a grin. "You have connections there as well?"

"Well, not really connections, no," she muttered, a bit flustered. "Just a couple of friends that work in lower level jobs."

"Oh, what would you consider a 'lower level' job? I think any position at the White House is quite prestigious."

"Well, my friend Linda Daniels works as the receptionist."

"Ah, wonderful. She must be able to meet all kinds of people."

"Yes, and she works for that wonderful girl. What was her name now... Oh, it was an unusual name. I think it was Zee or something like that. Zee Williams, that's it!"

Randall froze for a second, his eyes narrowing from the inner anguish grasping at his heart. Zee Williams. He thought he would never hear that name again. This was the woman the organization wanted him to investigate? Randall had met Zee back when he joined the Old Rebellion, had worked with her and given her important information. She had treated him like a friend, a brother, even. Although she was much younger than he, she was much stronger than he could ever dream of being. Would she still recognize him after all this time?

"Mr. Smith, are you alright?" Shelley asked concernedly. "You look ill."

"Oh, it's just the late hour. I should be going, really," Randall replied, a bit shaky. "I'm glad you feel the same way as your son, Mrs. Ellington. I'll send you a copy of his job description so the two of you can talk it over at your leisure. Would that be acceptable?"

"Oh, yes that's wonderful Mr. Smith! Thank you for coming!"

"Oh no, thank you," he said, inclining his head towards Shelley. After walking out of the house and back to his car (stumbling a little on the way), he pressed a green button on his briefcase.

"Yes, Mr. Smith?" it replied.

"Get me a flight to D.C."

"Yes, sir. What is your preferred flight time and airline?"

"It doesn't matter. Just get me there by tomorrow morning."

"Yes, Mr. Smith."

A million memories were rushing through his mind, but he had to concentrate. He picked up his cellphone and dialed his headquarters. "Hello? Is this Randall?"

"Yeah, Richard, I need you to get me an appointment at the White House. Do whatever it takes, alright? Press conference, congressional meeting, even just a lousy tour. Just get me in there and make it look legitimate!"

"Okay, okay! What's wrong buddy?"

"Nothing, just old scars acting up again."

" Mr. President, please listen-- "
" Williams, who is in control here? Oh yes, that would be me. And I do not see why we need to take any actions concerning American economics. We are doing just fine with the current program. "
" But-- "
" Enough. I see no obligation to open up communications with China again. This council is dismissed. "

The council having been dismissed, men and women stood ruffling papers and the hum of legal conversation buzzed inside the conference room. Jacob Williams sighed, massaging his forehead with his temples and picking up a black breifcase. Zee approached her father, arms crossed and an I-told-you-so look on her face.

" I don't know why you even try, Dad. He'll never listen to you. "
" You, young lady, are in no position to talk, " He mouthed the words, 'It could be bugged'.
" Oh please. He wouldn't bug his own house, and you know it. You're so paranoid. " Zee rolled her eyes, stalking out of the office.

" Hey, Linda, want a coffee? " Zee asked pleasantly, walking over to the pot that sat in a corner of the waiting room.
" Mmm, decaf, lots of cream, "
" Got it. " Zee poured two cups, one decaf and one regular. Tons of sugar to one, tons of cream to the other. Then she set a mug down by Linda's fingers, which were typing at what seemed like the speed of light on the computer.

" Thanks, hun, " Linda smiled.
" No problem. So what's next today? "
" Oh, nothing much.... that conference was about it. Oh, here's a little tidbit, there's a Cambridge professor coming over by tomorrow. " Linda's voice never once lost it's bored tone, but Zee's heartrate sped up, just a tiny bit.
" Who? Why? " Two innocent questions, appearing to be asked out of sheer boredom. And yet, they told all.
" Someone named, ah... Randall Smith? Wants to discuss teaching methods or something. Maybe job options for Kyle, " (Kyle was the President's son, and a supreme snob.)

Funny how just a few sentences could trigger so many memories. So many painful memories.

Darkness. She was blindfolded, duct tape over her mouth, and pain. Ropes cut into her wrists, which were tied behind her back, and rubbed them raw. Her ankles were also tied together, and rubbed raw. It was cold and damp, so cold.... she huddled down even more. The only confirmation of other lifeforms were the people who were whimpering or sounding muffled screams. Not the most comforting sound, but better than nothing. Better than the haunting, empty silence in the separate rooms.

A door creaked, but all she saw was more darkness. Voices, so many voices, mens' voices, and yet she couldn't find her own voice. Just a muffled, vague sound, like someone screaming through the wall. A struggling sound; and the sound of duct tape being ripped off. And then the begging, the whimpering..... and screaming. The scraping sound of someone being dragged across a cold, concrete floor. And a sickening thump, but at least the screaming stopped....

" Zee? Zee? Are you OK?" A voice peirced the darkness, and then Zee was back in the White House. And Linda was looking concernedly at her.

" Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Just, ahm, zoned otu there... " Zee laughed, but it was void of joy. That place still haunted her, every waking moment. Every night, every dream. And now it felt more real than ever, fresh on her mind.

" I'm, uh, gonna go get lunch. See ya. " Zee ran out the door, off to who-knows-where. Linda shrugged, it was a little weird for Zee to run off like that.
" Teenagers, " Linda mumbled happily.

"We need you in the office today," A woman said when Xaelis picked up the phone.
"Really? That's odd," She replied. The woman on the otherside of the line was definitely irritated with something or someone.

Xaelis had already closed her laptop after quickly saying her goodbyes to everyone, glad to have seen her old friends, yet worried of what was to come. She couldn't quite explain her emotions at that moment.

"Come quick, there are many thoughts and even propaganda of something called the Old Rebellion," This was it, triggoring the worst of Xaelis's memories to start.
She dropped the phone, freezing as her blue eyes grew wide with fear.
It was just like her dream.

"Hello? Xaelis? Hello?" The woman said on the phone before the dial tone was all that could be heard.

Not a single chair. Not a single person, not one single speck of light. The interrigation room they held Xaelis in, the same very room they tortured her in.
Even when one's eyes would adjust to the pitch blackness held within that room of death, it seemed impossible, yet there was nothing to see. It was as if your eyes had already been closed.

Xaelis could remember crying, hurting, a broken arm, a torn shoulder.
Starving for days having only been given enough to stay alive, she shook her head now, reality now in her face as if slapped by it.

The woman picked up the phone and hung it up, quickly grabbed a coat ad headed off for work.
It seemed odd doing such a thing, being the journalist she was allowed her to do most of her work at home.

On her way through crowded streets, Xaelis saw a familiar shadowed figure, she was running. She could tell Zee's figure from any.
"ZEE!" Xaelis yelled from her car, down the road from her old friend.
"HEY!" She added, waving her arm out of the window and beeping once.
Please see me, please see me, She thought to herself, a worried look on her face.

She desperately needed to speak with Zee, it would take all but a call in 'sick' to work to get out of going to the office.

" Xealis? " Zee stopped next to her lime green buggy, squinting to see the figure as it waved from a car. " Xealis!! " Zee yelled back, looking around before gesturing for her friend to park in the lot of the White House, no one would notice.

The cold grip of fear and pain on Zee's heart loosened a little, her heartrate slowed. Images of the empty blackness stopped flashing behind her eyes, and her hands stopped shaking. Here was someone who knew. Someone who understood. Zee pulled up her gloves; she had hidden her arms for three years, and she wouldn't stop now.

She waited next to her lime green bug, a wide smile on her face. No one would be able to tell how shaky she was, how close to a total breakdown. No one would see the traces of naked fear behind her eyes; because they were hidden with a grin. No one would be able to guess what had went on in that cold, dank room.

Mattox sat back on the black leather couch of one of the hospital’s doctor’s lounge, pale faced and breathing heavily in slow rhythmic patterns. A lifetime of study and work … and constant emptying of his insides brought him to this point in his life and he couldn’t be in a worse place. As everyone else in their given career, Mattox had been training as a cardiothoracic surgeon for almost his entire life, so one would think that blood wouldn’t phase him any longer, but they would be wrong. One thing that was not understandable was how any doctor could look into someone’s body and be fine with the silky red blood that settled there; sticking his hands into people’s chests, seeing their diseased hearts and lungs, tumours and growth – it was disgusting.

He had just finished assisting a surgery where the man was on his death bed with black lungs, tumours in every available room and a putrid scent to him to top it off; it was a wonder why they even bothered operating considering the man died anyway. But the family wanted one last chance to ‘save’ him. In the end, the surgeon operating was just short of giving up - it was barely an attempt on his part.

At least try, Mattox thought, if you’re going to make me see that. Mattox rolled his eyes disgustedly, remembering the sight and stood up with an angry growl of sorts. Off he went to tell the family of their loss.

People, who worked at the hospital with Mattox and grew up learning their own techniques, knew of his extreme hatred for this career, regardless of how little he said or how well he hid it. Looking at his face one could see the disgust on his almost-always pale face and many accused him silently of being part of the Rebellion. A few had actually said it to his face; an accusation that he denied but not one he wished was false. Anytime he thought of the Rebellion, he became excited; it was something he was extremely passionate about and wished he could have been a part of when it was active, but that time had passed and he had left it be, thinking of it often.

It wasn’t until a few nights ago when he was on a break in that familiar hospital lounge, browsing web forums for nothing in particular, that he came upon something that could have been hinting at the Rebellion becoming active again. Perhaps it was just his mind playing tricks on him as it was only and ever-so-slight a hint, but he had a feeling that it could be true and ever since his little ‘discovery,’ he had been listening carefully to everyone’s conversation in every place he went, for anything about the new Rebellion. So far, he had heard nothing. He kept going back to the particular hint he had found and continually tried to break the ‘puzzle’ in hopes of finding out about headquarters or some sort of meeting place.

Xaelis had a red Altima, something she cherished, something that actually looked nice.
She was so glad to see Zee, even though she had to be at work, she decided it'd be best to call, especially now that Zee heard her.

The White House was so close, and the parking lot was long and wide, thousands of cars could've fit there.
The red Altima was parked, reversed in, next to the lime green Buggy.
"They got you a car?" Xaelis said at first, getting out of her car and running over to Zee to give her a hug.
It'd been so long since she saw her. She was glad to be alive herself so she could imagine how Zee felt.

In only a single glance, Xaelis could tell something was wrong, she didn't mention anything, but could see some sort of fear in Zee's eyes, something much like her own baggage that she carried. From the continuously repeated nights they held the Old Rebellion leaders inside of those rooms. Those airless shitholes the government called interigation rooms.

Xaelis's eyes welled up with tears as she shook her head.
"I'm so sorry, Zee," She said, hugging the girl again. She knew everything she was going through, rather, felt. Empathized.

She'd have to make her call into work soon or else they'd send someone looking for her. She was a loyal, though, she couldn't let such a careless mistake ruin it for the rest of them.

Tacka Tacka Tacka Tacka Tacka.

A figure rapidly typed over a qwerty keyboard, light shining over her frame in the bathroom stall. The hum of the machine seemed to quiet her as the music of old blared through her headphones. Her firewalls were holding up, and sneaking into the White House Records was a snap.

Tacka Tacka Tacka Tacka Tacka.

The typing stopped for a moment as she let the virus program run into the White House system. The virus was designed to shut down certain files and wipe out data so that it became inaccessible without a password. Every file opened would show constant pop-ups and automatically shut down the system. Rebooting would do the same; nothing could be brought up. Amaya designed the virus in order to look into the old Rebellion files. Who was involved? Who were the leaders? And most importantly, who her father was rumored to work with. She had to find out everything, and hopefully find connections to the rumored New Rebellion.

She took a sip of her soda, red hair brushing against her cheeks. "C'mon, C'mon..." She urged the machine, the loading bar taking it's own sweet time to get to the end. She didn't have that much time, her distraction on the cameras could only be for so long. She would get antsy every time someone tried to come into her stall. The quiet murmurs of "I'm sorry." or "Excuse me." were often herd, and she would simply reply back with an "It's alright."

Bladooop!! "Complete. Complete. Complete." The computer suddenly blared in a very obnoxious voice, random beeping noises erupting from the speakers causing Amaya to spit out half of her soda.

"SHHH!!" She tried to quiet down the system, shutting out of everything. The virus was implanted, and she was sure that the security cameras in the stall were recording the actual footage this time....which meant that she was being revealed. Shoving her hat over her head, she slammed out of the stall as the alarm blared throughout the compound. People visiting the White House as well as the officials were becoming chaotic as she through the swarms of people, laptop stored securely in her pack behind her. She shoved through many people before reattaching herself to the group she originally came with.

"Now, please, come in through the security gates and check your baggage. Apparently someone has breached the security system!" Her guide told the group. Amaya couldn't help but be slightly afraid. She had never come this close to being caught before, and quite frankly, she didn't like it. She prayed that her laptop firewalls were still running and her unusual shutdown of the system didn't hinder her chances of escape.

Heart pounding, she took deep breaths as it became her turn to move through the gates. Quietly, she placed her pack and laptop onto the conveyor belt, and moved through the metal detector. It made two beeps signaling that she was fine. However, they kept scanning and rescanning her laptop. Amaya tried to keep herself calm, her pulse rate speeding up, beads of sweat starting to form. After what seemed like years to her, the lappy finally came through. She was about to grab it when a man caught her wrist. "Miss, where did you get this laptop?"

"Ahh...It was a gift from my old boss." She said flatly. "I used to work as a school computer moderator."

"Uh-huh." The guard stared over at her then over at the laptop then back at her. "Miss, I'm afraid I'm going to-"

A beeping noise came from a security gate across the room. A man was clutching his things, White House security surrounding him. Amaya took the time to grab her stuff and run off, the man yelling toward her. The hacker exploded from the doors running at break neck speed, not looking back. Voices shouted, but she didn't know if they were to her, or the other people in the building. The female rounded a few corners and jumped a few ally ways before she finally slowed. Leaning against a wall for support, she huffed a little holding her chest and pack close. Catching her second wind, she nonchalantly began to start back down the street, the radios ceasing their stupid techno to bring even dumber government reports.

Except this report was going to be a little different.

Thanks to her.

Surinelle sighed with frustration as the faces on her monitor began to dissapear. Meeting could never last long, she knew that, but she never even got to say anything. She started to take off her headset when the door to her office burst open, revealing her boss. "What are you doing with a webcam, Surinelle?" He asked suspiciously.

"Oh sir, I forgot to inform you, but I was speaking to the Vice President about the economic discussion later today." She lied, which came naturally to her. Well it had to if you were going to be a member of such a dangerous group. Memories flooded back to her of the interrogation three years ago and she shuddered, which luckily went unoticed by her boss. "Actually, I was hoping that you would allow me to go up there, to get some information to write a piece about it in the Herald." She asked.

"Well, I suppose that would be good, we are in need of a good story around here..., alright Surinelle, you may go. I will be sending a jet at once, but you are to return back this evening." And with that final note he left and Surinelle smiled. Now she might be able to speak to Zee.

A half an hour later a jet arrived and she was able to get to D.C. 20 minutes later. With all of the new technology, plane flights were much quicker. She started running as fast as she could the minute she stepped out of the plane, shoving her reporter pass from the Miami Herald in everyone who tried to stop her's face. Panting heavily she finally reached the White House and she saw in the parking lot, Zee and Xaelis standing next to a lime green car.

"Zee,Xaelis!!" Surinelle called frantically, waving her arms around.

Tanner made his way quietly down the streets. He technically wasn't supposed to be out and about right now as it was his working hours but he didn't mind so it didn't matter. His eyes scanned all that was around him, blending into the heavy traffic filled crowd of people, all fighting to get to wherever they needed to be. He was glad he wasn't like them. He was gald he had his own freedom, even if it wasn't too free.

He melted easily into the people, sinking unnoticed into an alleyway and up a few flights of wet stairs into a dark broken down room. It was mostly abandon and torn down besides the small computer in the far corner. He slid in and turned on the webcam, greated by some of the others. "Hey guys. What's up?"

Zee let herself be hugged by Xealis. It was a little uncomfortable, but still. Then she said:
" Yeah, I finally got a car. " And then, " Don't be sorry; the same thing happened to you. " She pulled away from Xealis' grasp, and started, " I just heard that-- "

" Zee, Xealis!! " The cry sounded from over somewhere. With a start, Zee realized it was Surinelle. The reporter was running towards them from the other side of the parking lot. She finally came near enough for speaking distance.

" Surinelle!! No way. Everyone's showing up today!! Listen, I--"

Suddenly, alarms went off inside the White House, and the three of them were close enough to hear it blast. Green eyes turned towards the White House. Zee wasn't overly concerned; drills went off all the time. And that;s all they were; drills. Until she heard the loudspeaker, saying that someone had breached the system. And that it wasn't a drill.
" .....Someone has breached the system.... " Zee recognized Linda's voice over the loudspeaker. It sounded into the parking lot, too.

" You hear that? " Zee's eyebrows knit together, and she began to run towards the building. She was in full confidence that they would let her in; she was easily recognized throughout the White House. She was about to step inside when a girl about her age shot out, and boy was she weird. She had a purplish sort of skin tone, and... pointed ears? Was that even possible?

But the girl was speeding away, obviously in a hurry for some reason.... a light bulb clicked on in Zee's scheming mind.
" Hey, you!! " Zee yelled after the girl, chasing her around until the girl turned a corner and suddenly dissapeared. Zee stopped to catch her breath, heart sinking with dissapointment. But then she reappeared again, and Zee ran towards her.

" Hey, uhm excuse me, " she called, catching up to the girl who was trying to look casual at this point. Fat chance, with those looks.

Xaelis could only nod before Sunrinelle showed up who she gladly hugged as well.
"Eyy Sun," Xaelis smiled, unable to catch what Zee tried to say.

With quick relexes, Xaelis was startled by the loud alarms when they went off in the White House and all along the parking lot.
"Oh my God," She said simply, before darting off after Zee.
They had to be quick runners, it was almost a given, being that they leadered such dangerous groups.

"Hacked?" She said as they ran, but got no reply as she caught up to the two.
She let Zee do the talking, simply walking off now sure that all was okay. A quick glance to Zee was all she needed to make sure things were okay.

Pulling out her phone, Xaelis decided to call her office.
It rang once before the same woman picked up, somehow she already knew it was Xaelis.
"Xaelis," the woman said, monotone.

"Hi, yeah, I can't come in today, sorry about earlier, I almost passed out, the phone just slipped out of my hand and I felt faint," A gust of wind made the phone's connection almost giveway. The woman hadn't noticed, luckily.

"Get well, then, you are very important here, you know that," The woman hung up, no goodbyes these days.

Xaelis shook her head, hoping she didn't miss any of the conversation Zee and the 'hacker' were having.
Wild blue eyes seemed worried, their usual state, as she exchanged expressions with Zee.