Soldiers marched civilians down a narrow corridor of lifeless metal. An eerily green sky showed only a few stars, the rest blocked out as a large, spiked something was lowered into a crater detonated for just that purpose.
Of course, this was only a temporary measure. The l'cie at least had a chance of merely being transported to Pulse, but the Fal'cie within the Vestige uprooted at Bodhum was likely doomed, barring a miracle.
Barring intervention.
The less submissive of the victims and their families were on a lower walkway of the Hanging Edges, most if not all holding guns of some kind, only some of the younger children weaponless, and even that wasn't universal. There was a frantic battle happening between this resistance faction- one of only many- and a cluster of no less than five soldiers, a little better armed and trained by comparison.
"Typical Sanctum," remarked a woman who was holding a machine gun to her chest like a parent would a baby. "Shoot first, ask questions later."
"I guess." A man behind a makeshift barrier of raised metal spoke with a shrug. "But are we any better than them? Really? We're doing the same."
""They're fighting to line their pockets," rasped an elderly man with a pump action shotgun that seemed out of place on his emaciated form. "We're fighting to protect the ones we love. There's a difference."
"If you say so," sighed the man as the shootout resumed.
_____________________________________
A train thundered through tracks encased by bulletproof glass, containing people whose original clothes were covered by thick, hooded white robes. There was an air of silence in this place of misery. No laughter. No smiles. Barely even the sound of a breath among the despondent victims of the Purge.
Hale sat beside two others, one tall and one even shorter than he was; a young girl. He offered her a false smile, and she smiled back. Whether false or true was another matter, and not one of his concern. Never one of his concern.
The knife stored inside his shoe was a little uncomfortable, making his ankle down sweaty, itchy and uncomfortable. But it was time to give the Sanctum something to worry about. Yes. This was it.
His time to go out fighting.
Of course, this was only a temporary measure. The l'cie at least had a chance of merely being transported to Pulse, but the Fal'cie within the Vestige uprooted at Bodhum was likely doomed, barring a miracle.
Barring intervention.
The less submissive of the victims and their families were on a lower walkway of the Hanging Edges, most if not all holding guns of some kind, only some of the younger children weaponless, and even that wasn't universal. There was a frantic battle happening between this resistance faction- one of only many- and a cluster of no less than five soldiers, a little better armed and trained by comparison.
"Typical Sanctum," remarked a woman who was holding a machine gun to her chest like a parent would a baby. "Shoot first, ask questions later."
"I guess." A man behind a makeshift barrier of raised metal spoke with a shrug. "But are we any better than them? Really? We're doing the same."
""They're fighting to line their pockets," rasped an elderly man with a pump action shotgun that seemed out of place on his emaciated form. "We're fighting to protect the ones we love. There's a difference."
"If you say so," sighed the man as the shootout resumed.
_____________________________________
A train thundered through tracks encased by bulletproof glass, containing people whose original clothes were covered by thick, hooded white robes. There was an air of silence in this place of misery. No laughter. No smiles. Barely even the sound of a breath among the despondent victims of the Purge.
Hale sat beside two others, one tall and one even shorter than he was; a young girl. He offered her a false smile, and she smiled back. Whether false or true was another matter, and not one of his concern. Never one of his concern.
The knife stored inside his shoe was a little uncomfortable, making his ankle down sweaty, itchy and uncomfortable. But it was time to give the Sanctum something to worry about. Yes. This was it.
His time to go out fighting.
