******
A faint smell of pine and a lightly dizzying aroma of cleaning product was evident in the air of Purgatory. Over the course of the previous day and some of the night, it had gotten cleaned, scrubbed, and purified. Blood and human tissue was scraped away and disinfected with salvaged cleaning supplies: still easy enough to find as they weren't often used or sought except for a dangerous inhalation high.
Much of the debris scattered about had been removed as well. A few additional flood lights had been set up, as those brought by the Citizen soldiers were all broken by the various explosions. In spite of all the care, the room still appeared as dingy and shabby as the lobby of a seedy hotel. It didn't help that burn marks and shrapnel divots scored the floor and walls along with a few reddish-brown stains.
Victor had suggested using it as the place of meeting as a symbol to everyone that Old Haven now belonged to those left behind. It made for a convincing statement of confidence and security, and even though the other group and faction leaders remained reluctant to enter, they did so without too much complaint.
They scrounged a few worn but comfortable office chairs and managed to find a couple of small folding tables in the Citizen's Escape compound. These were placed into the Escape lobby where dozens of men had been brutally killed hardly a day earlier. The setup was by no means extravagant, but it became a convincing enough conference room.
The meeting gathered together in the early morning. At the head of the table sat Victor, still calling himself Elijah. On either side of him were placed Isaac and Sergei. Next to Sergei was Desmond; his wife, Olivia, was busy caring for the children. Next to Desmond was a man named Quinton. An elderly man sort, very evident by his gnarled hands and wrinkled skin. He was one of the community leaders that was paid little heed, as a large chunk of his people were over the age of fifty.
When the separation began, there was very little use for the elderly as a low class Citizen or even mindless servant. Sadly, many of the older individuals did not last long without food, care, and assistance when needed. Those that maintained enough self-sufficiency banded together, with Quinton as their duly elected leader.
Despite the hideous symbolism behind it, they took up residence in a small disused retirement community. They took on most anyone who wanted shelter, but, unless they were willing to pitch in and assist others who needed the help, they weren't allowed to stay long. In many cases, people who went there looking for a brief respite ended up joining the community. They did the best they could for their older and less capable comrades, but still many more died in the years which followed. By and large, the community held the largest amount of non-combatant civilians, numbering in the hundreds.
Rick leaned against the wall several feet behind Victor, eyeing the elderly man. They were non-violent by their nature, but he knew they tried very hard to defend their home. Quinton looked thin and frail, but Rick had heard that the ex-military man was in excellent physical condition and could still manage hand-to-hand combat. After numerous incidents, a reputation formed that clearly stated that they were not by any means easy targets for individuals to steal from.
Unfortunately, Miguel had not been so easily turned aside. He demanded tribute in the form of food, supplies, and women. They did what they had to, and often Miguel still vandalized and killed for sport. When informed of the Silver Fox's demise, cold satisfaction gleamed in Quinton's hardened eyes.
The man across the table, sitting a chair away from Isaac, had a reputation quite opposite. Matthias was a small, bookish man with large glasses and a receding hairline, and his reputation of timidity was well-deserved. He was quite intelligent and distrusted for it; he seemed like he could have easily been a Citizen.
However, his major failing was an intense paranoia about a great number of things. He did not trust the Franklin Lange regime and wanted nothing to do with it. Matthias was the reluctant leader of a random group of individuals who shared his conspiracy theory delusions. Their disposition, as well as a lack of combat abilities or weapons, meant that they preferred to stay hidden.
A task that they, surprisingly, had actually stayed very successful at. Rick still hardly believed how well that the dozens of individuals and a few families managed to remain undiscovered for such a long time, not that anyone cared enough to try finding them. Rick theorized they had a couple of locations that changed via leapfrog every couple of months. That way there were never too many people moving all at once, and their hiding places shifted.
Still, Rick wondered how a pitiful little man like Matthias managed to stay alive so long. One of life's great mysteries, I suppose, he thought.
The meeting had started a while back, and dull introductions flitted by without Rick noticing. Victor, Sergei, and Isaac all pitched in to tell the story of their new alliance and their military success. They skirted over gorier details of the ambush inside the room in which they sat, but the description was enough to make Matthias go pale. He glanced all around the room, frowning as though he could see some bits that they had missed in the cleanup.
"Disgusting," he muttered, under his breath but loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Necessary," Victor replied.
"I- I don't see why you called me here. I'm not a fighter and I don't have any interest in doing any fighting." Matthias did all of his speaking in a rapid babble. "It's not like there's anything we can do anyway. We just need to be safe and hidden and they won't find us. They can't find me because I'm too good at hiding."
Matthias tended to prattle on, and it had already worn at the patience of the other members. That and he had spoken statements regarding his interest in fighting versus hiding numerous times since the beginning of the meeting.
"We are not worried about your ability to fight," Sergei said, bringing up the point of discussion once again.
"Well, I know you told me that already. I'm not deaf or anything like that. Actually I have near-perfect hearing, and the rest of my senses are still sharp." Matthias paused, blinking behind his large glasses. "Except for my eyes of course, but it was only a few years ago that my vision started to go bad. You know how hard it is to find prescription glasses without any optometrists-"
"In any case," Victor said, interrupting him, "we are hoping that you will lend any support you can towards our goal." He took in a breath. "We hope to leave this place behind very soon. With a threatening enough military, we can force negotiations, perhaps even break the Citizen regime." Rick saw the slightest grimace cross Victor's features. What's that about? he wondered.
However, Victor's words still had a profound effect. Everyone, including Matthias, nodded, with expressions ranging from determination to near-bliss on their faces.
Victor allowed the statement to absorb then continued. "Unfortunately, even with our recent success, there has been a problem." As he told the tale of the recent security breach by the small group of surviving enemy soldiers, the attitude turned grim.
"Well, what are we going to do?" Matthias asked. "How do you think they'll respond? Do you think they'll do something bad-"
"I do not know," Victor said firmly, cutting him off before he could start babbling again, "but it does mean that events will have to be accelerated."
"You don't know the half of it," a voice came from the entrance. Glances shot over and saw the figures of two men standing in the doorway. Rick pushed away from the wall and peered. It was actually one man standing, half-carrying another man who appeared unconscious.
Rick ran forward to assist, but he stopped dead. He and Victor exchanged glances, unnoticed by anyone else.
Victor opened his mouth, prepared to concede leadership immediately. "Everyone, this is Eli-"
"Klaus," the real Elijah interrupted, "is my name, and this man has grown quite heavy since he passed out."
With another confused glance towards Victor, Rick hurried over and assisted with the unconscious man. Together they half-dragged, half-carried him. "Watch his left leg," the real Elijah sa
id. "It is broken quite badly."
As they carried him past the table where everyone stared, Rick hissed under his breath, "What the hell are you doing here, sir?"
Elijah passed him a warm smile. "Sorry to interrupt the meeting," he said to everyone as they laid the man in the chair. "I am Elijah's," he gestured to Victor, "aide. I stumbled across this poor fellow who has some vital information."
Rick took another look at the passed out man. He looked ragged and bloody. Bruises adorned his face and hands. Bits of trash and filth clung to his clothing and hair, and a small amount of blood dribbled down his chin. His left ankle and leg were twisted at terrible angles. His shirt was half-shredded, and Rick could see purplish bruising adorning the visible skin. Rick crouched down to get a closer look at his face. He let out a shocked gasp.
"Holy shit," he said, turning to face Victor. "It's Jeffrey!"
Rick looked his comrade over again, noting every scratch and bruise. He clenched his fists, and his blood boiled. So this is how you treat the people you capture, he thought, his malice towards the Citizenship rising. Rick prodded the injuries.
"He's in really bad shape, where did you find him?"
Elijah addressed the entire room. "I discovered him crawling out of an alleyway, injured as he is now. It seems he was held captive above and escaped by climbing down one of the garbage disposal trapdoors on a rope, but not before learning something very important." He shook his head. "He nearly made it down but fell the last twenty feet."
"What did he find out?" Matthias inquired, "Are they going to attack again? Are they? Because if they are, I need to get out of here and go back to hiding…"
Elijah held up a silencing hand, and Matthias trailed off to everyone's surprise. "Let's try and wake him. When I found him, he babbled on about eavesdropping on a meeting last night. He apparently heard how they intend to respond to the current crisis."
Elijah turned and crouched next to Rick in front of the seated, battered Jeffrey. He gripped Jeffrey's chin and tilted his head back and forth, inspecting the injuries. He carefully felt up and down the broken leg. Rick checked the ribs and winced. A few of them were broken, and a deep purple bruise formed at the sight, suggesting internal bleeding. "Bring some water," Rick said to one of the standing guards, who hurried off.
As the two men worked on Jeffrey, Sergei turned to Victor. "Who is that man?"
Victor grimaced. "His name is Jeffrey. We sent him to be captured. He relayed false information to them that-"
"Jeff," Rick called, returning everyone's attention to the injured man. They shook him gently; he stirred, a wince of pain coming to his face and a bit of blood oozing out between his lips. Rick shook him harder. "Jeffrey, it's me; Rick." Jeffrey gasped and his eyes fluttered open.
The injured man's head lolled backward. He lazily turned his neck and looked at Rick. "Rick? Is that really you?"
Rick broke into a small grin. "Yeah. You look like hell."
Jeffrey smiled, and his stomach heaved in a short laugh followed by a wince of pain and a cough that pulled up more blood. He held a hand over his midsection and drew in short, ragged breaths. "I feel like hell," he whispered, wheezing. He gagged, gurgling. "I… I think my… ribs are broken."
"You made it back, though." Rick squeezed his shoulder. "You're one tough bastard."
Jeffrey smiled, revealing his teeth, tinged with fresh blood. "They didn't get me. I made it through their torture, and I found out…" he trailed off. His eyes went wide as he remembered. His hand shot out, and he grabbed Rick's collar with surprising strength. "You… you have to… have to get everyone out, as soon as possible!" He descended into a brutal bout of coughing.
Anxiety swept through the meeting room as the faction leaders and other bystanding soldiers exchanged worried glances. Matthias opened his mouth but was silenced by a glare from Quinton as Jeffrey continued.
"They know about your ambush." He coughed hard again and closed his eyes, pain etched across his face. "They plan…" he took a deep breath and gritted his teeth. "They plan to use some kind of poison. They're going to kill everyone."
The anxiety transformed into alarm and now the various people in the room looked as though they were mere moments away from panic. The one soldier returned, carrying with him a bottle of dirty water. Rick held it up to Jeffrey's lips, and he drank a few sips.
"You… have…" Jeffrey's eyes were heavy-lidded, and he looked like he was going to black out again. Rick shook him, hard, and his eyes popped open. "You have… to get out. Oh God, it hurts…" his head rolled backward. Before Rick or Elijah could try and rouse him, Jeffrey's head snapped forward again, his face ashen. "They've been working on it, b-but it's not ready yet. They're under p-pressure…" he gagged, turned his head, and spat out a mouthful of blood. "Th-they don't even care if it s-spreads to the surface and kills Citizens. They'll just say we d-did it and use it to…" his eyes looked glazed, "to…" he gave his head a little shake, "to tighten p… political grip."
Matthias gripped both arms of his chair and made as if to spring to his feet, but he settled nervously back into his seat when Quinton, Isaac, and Sergei all shot angry glares in his direction. Jeffrey started fading out again.
Elijah tilted Jeffrey's chin until their eyes met. "How long do we have?" he asked.
"Th… thr… three… d… days…" After the statement, he slumped back into the chair, and his eyes slid shut.
At that mention, the room erupted in a frenzy of shouting and activity. Sergei and Isaac were both yelling about the need for an immediate pre-emptive strike to take the surface. Desmond, normally calm, was shouting about the need to get the children to safety and furiously gesturing at the other two.
"You do not understand, old fool! If we do not secure the surface, we cannot stop them from using this terrible weapon!" Sergei barked.
Rick tried to interject, "Hey, let's just relax for a sec, then-"
"We can't leave any people behind!" Desmond shouted, ignoring Rick. "What if we're too late and they use it? People will die!"
Isaac jumped in. "A military action can't be impeded by a flock of the elderly and children."
Desmond shot back, "And a military action will be worthless if the people you fight to protect end up dead!"
"Who ever said I was fighting to save your people?"
As they continued arguing, Matthias finally jumped to his feet, moving towards the exit, but Quinton had cut off his escape. In a harsh, wavering voice, he said, "Sit down; we're not done yet." Matthias hung his head and reluctantly trudged back to his seat.
The arguing continued. Victor ignored the discussion and stared at Elijah with hundreds of 'why' questions blazing in his serious eyes. Elijah curled the corner of his mouth in a slight smile and gave a tiny shrug as if to say, 'Why not?'
"Quiet!" Quinton barked loudly. Everyone immediately fell silent and looked at him. He swept a glare around the table as he said, "None of this matters right now," he scowled, "we can't worry about who gets out first if we can't get out at all." He threw a gesture at the elevator. "It's not like they'll just let us come out of that."
Sergei furrowed his brow, and the response he opened mouth for didn't arrive. He and Isaac both frowned in contemplation.
Victor, shaking his head at Elijah's strange behavior, said, "We have one possible exit point, and it doesn't involve the elevator," he finished quickly before anyone could object. "However, it is on the southern side of the city in a residential sector." He shook his head. "Not a strategic position."
Sergei curled a fist in front of him. "Not if we take it hostage! We can use their people as leverage-"
Rick shook his head forcefully. "No. That won't work. If they don't care about poisoning their own people, they won't hesitate to cut through them to get to us."
Sergei threw up his hands. "Then what do we do? March for miles through the streets of Haven in broad daylight until they swarm and kill us all? Or maybe we should try hiding somewhere and hope they do not notice
!"
"Better to die doing something than by hoping the bastards negotiate!" Rick shot back.
Victor stood up, looming over the table with his large figure. "The only thing that will ensure our safety is if the Citizen political system is thrown into turmoil." Expressions of confusion and disbelief crossed the faces of the various people, and they thought about it for a moment.
Isaac began, "How-"
"We take the Institute." Victor answered. "We cripple their base of operations and send the Citizens into a panic."
Rick stepped forward and nodded. "Their policing force isn't that large; they rely on keeping the populace happy and passive. They won't be able to handle a widespread panic."
Isaac asked, "What about the military?"
Victor responded. "They don't keep a large standing army; most of their forces are engaged in constant acquisitions and won't be able to respond very quickly. Even their reserve forces have been exhausted in the recent attacks down here."
"How many soldiers will be needed for the Institute?" Sergei had a thoughtful look.
Victor raised an eyebrow. "It's not heavily guarded, but there are usually a few dozen Inquisitors there at any given hour."
Sergei pounded his fist on the table. "Why don't we have groups spread out into the city and create panic? We set fires and create disturbances!" Sergei looked back and forth, appraising the reaction to his idea. "That will draw their forces away from the building and create some Citizen riots for them to deal with."
Victor rubbed his chin. "Yes, that could work." He cast a gaze around the individuals at the table. "However, surprise and success for both our objectives and basic survival would be much simpler if we could discover another exit point, but we lack the time to search." Most of the faces at the table frowned, except for one. Victor locked his icy blue eyes into Matthias, who shifted uncomfortably and wiped sweat off his brow.
"Do any of you know of any more places?" he asked, staring directly at the awkward little man who clenched his jaw and squirmed in his seat. He kept throwing quick glances at Victor and looking away when he noticed the gaze unbroken.
By this time everyone else had followed Victor's lead, and glared at Matthias, who, unable to handle pressure, cracked. "All right! Fine!" he blurted. "I know of some places. I use them to have my people sneak up and get supplies, and we use some of the spaces to hide. I don't know how it will help you, and I'm really not sure if I want to tell you where it is. It's a really great place and I can't use it anymore if you all know about it, so I just don't know-"
Quinton barked, "Spit it out!"
Matthias gulped. "There's a loose plywood board in the stairwell of an office building, a mile southwest of the Escape. In a nearby room there are four outfits and some currency." He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "There's…" he looked sad, "another spot too. Between the Escape and the art district in an apartment complex. There's a break in a garbage disposal shed, and we use servant clothing…" He finished, pouting.
Victor said, "Good," he looked over at the others, "I don't believe we can do much better than that."
Isaac, Sergei, and Desmond all nodded; Quinton cracked a tiny smile, and Matthias chuckled nervously and wiped sweat from his brow.
Victor stood. "Very well, then. Gather all available fighting men and meet here as soon as possible. They will enter at the two locations that you," he pointed at Matthias, who jumped at the sharp gesture, "will provide. Bring the rest, whoever you can find of civilians, to the south-side." He looked back and forth between Quinton and Desmond, who both agreed.
Victor spread his hands. "Good. Let's get going, then. Prepare as quickly as you can. The attack will begin tomorrow evening."
Muffled scraping of chairs on carpet could be heard as the various leaders rose from their seats. Matthias made a quick movement towards the door until Rick jumped forward and grabbed his shoulder. "Not so fast, there. Why don't you go ahead and show me these exits?" he said with a grin.
Matthias gave a nervous chuckle that dissolved into a tiny groan and nodded rapidly. "Of course, of course. I wasn't trying to leave you behind. I wouldn't do anything like-"
"Fine, great," Rick cut in. "Let's go."
With a mournful look, the meek man mumbled an, "Okay," and trudged down the street, Rick following close behind. Victor shook hands and bid farewell to the rest of the faction leaders. Isaac, Desmond, and Quinton all exited quickly, but Sergei jogged forward, speaking in hushed tones to an empty corner, most likely to his phantom man, before moving out of the building. Victor still wasn't sure who Piotr was, but he had more important things to worry about.
When everyone had left, he turned towards Elijah, who was crouching down next to Jeffrey. He used the water and a strip of cloth to wipe away some of the blood and grime from his face. Victor moved towards them and asked in a harsh tone, "What are you doing out here? We agreed it was safer to-"
"His lung is punctured," Elijah said, not turning around or acknowledging the question. "He's not going to survive." He turned his head towards Victor, soft brown eyes full of sorrow.
Victor sighed. "He did his job. Better than anyone could have hoped."
Elijah gave a bitter laugh, "Well, as long as the job is done, it doesn't matter who suffers, right?" He ran a hand through his wiry, silver hair. "We're just like him. Nothing else matters except for what we care about, and to hell with anyone else."
"This is about him. About stopping what he's done to-"
"This is about revenge!" Elijah snapped. "Nothing else!"
Victor looked away. "Maybe." He turned back, changing the subject. "How is it you didn't know about this poison."
Elijah clenched his teeth. "A very good question. It was never mentioned before today, but there was no doubting the truth in Jeffrey's eyes. He definitely heard about it."
"What of your informant?"
"They must not have spoken about it much, or it wasn't a concern before now, otherwise he'd have told me." Elijah let out a bitter laugh. "That, and the damnable power is finicky at the shop; he probably tried."
Victor grimaced. "At least we shouldn't have to deal with that for much longer."
"Yes, because being dead will be much better."
Victor glared. "We don't know what will happen."
Elijah shook his head. "What else could happen?" He spread out his hands. "Lange dies. Someone else steps in: they hunt down and execute anyone unable to prove their Citizenship."
Victor curled a fist. "It does not matter; staying here means certain death. At least this way, Lange will finally get what he deserves."
Elijah smirked. "And it matters not who suffers," he said, casting a sorrowful look over at Jeffrey. A shiver spiked through him as he noticed that the man's shallow breathing had stopped. He grabbed the man's shoulders and shook him, calling his name. When this elicited no response, he reached over and pressed two fingers on the side of his neck, checking for a pulse.
Finding none, Elijah buried his face in his hands.
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