Kamron’s head slammed onto the slick, alcohol-stained surface of the bar. As he reeled away from his opponent, the crowd cheered. Bar fights, or any fighting at all, wasn’t common in The Refuge. Most hostility was instantly put down by the Imperium Conglomerate’s soldiers, unless you count dealing with the violence. Where he was, Kamron knew there was no help coming, if that was a good thing was another matter altogether.
His opponent, a nearly seven foot tall, large, bald man with intricate tattoos curving and twisting all over his well muscled body, approached, already winding up for the next crushing blow. Deftly, Kamron stepped back, grabbed the fist that had been thrust forward, and broke the extended arm by ramming the elbow on his knee. The arm snapped with a sickening crack, bending backward at an unnatural angle. With a blood-curdling yowl, the tattooed man collapsed to the floor.
After a moment of nearly complete silence, the crowd roared. Receiving several compliments and even more angry expletives. Kamron settled down with his drink. Suddenly a sniffer, a man on the watch for the military police, dashed in and spoke briefly to the owner who was in the midst of a dazzling display of mixology. Kamron noticed that several veterans of past conflicts gathered up their coats and left, but most of the bar carried on in blissful ignorance. After a couple of seconds of brief consideration, the bartender, a well rounded man with an impressive amount of facial hair, dimmed the lights.
As the last rowdy bar hopper fell silent, the bearded barkeep addressed the crowd, “I have just received word that the police are on the move near our position, we need to evacuate now. Staff, take your position.”
As Kamron moved to follow the rest of the usuals out the back exit he noticed the staff taking up spots like ordinary customers.
He chuckled to himself, “I guess an empty bar making all that noise would be pretty suspicious.”
The owner grinned, “This plan is the only reason we are still around, without it, I’d been shut down long ago.”
As he left Kamron dimly perceived the rumble of approaching squad trucks.
Once all the late night drinkers were out in the alley, floodlights came on and a voice boomed on a loudspeaker, “You are surrounded, put your hands on your head and remain silent. You have violated section 8 of the Imperium codes. Please stand down or we will use force.”
As the small crowd milled around and the policeman carried on with his speech, Kamron slipped to the back of the crowd and snuck back into the bar. There were several policemen inside, arresting the remaining staff. Crouching behind a table, Kamron waited until the last of the police had escorted the planted staff out into the trucks. Then he popped out, and stole over to the door. As he opened the door, he saw the trucks full of people pull away, probably to a restoration camp. Prisons were wasteful, most punishments involved being on a workforce.
It started to drizzle, but soon became a downpour. As Kamron walked to his quarters, he was approached by a shady character. The man was short, but he had a wiry toughness to his stature. He wore a grey overcoat that almost brushed the ground. The middle of the coat was open revealing a red hornet, the symbol of the street gang “The Hornets.” He wore a hat that hid his face, but Kamron could make out an unshaved chin.
“Hey, I saw you whip that giant of a man in the bar, me and the rest of the gang could use a guy like you. What’s your name?”
“My name is Kamron Gredoir. What is yours?”
“My name is Marley, but that isn’t important. What I need to know is will you join the Hornets. Answer quickly, I believe I was tailed.”
“One question, What’s the pay?”
Marley grinned, “You’re in.”
After receiving contact information and the location of the Hornet headquarters, Kamron retired to his block for the night.
Later, in his quarters, After showering, and throwing on some fresh clothes, he was in the middle of checking the latest news reports when he heard a scuffling in the hallway. Taking account of this, Kamron continued to fiddle with the dial of his radio while stealthily palming his pistol into his overcoat pocket. Several seconds later, Kamron heard the hollow clinking sound of a tin can rolling across concrete. Just before it would have been too late, Kamron dodged into the bathroom a split second before a blinding flash of light flared in the main room.
Flashbangs were commonly used to arrest low priority targets with minimal cost and non lethal submission. Kamron had seen this tactic used several times before. But now, instead of laying blind and helpless in the middle of the floor, he had the upper hand, at least in surprise, on the cops that were sure to barge in promptly. Kamron heard them enter.
“Where’s ‘is body?” One of them said
“It’s sure to be around here somewhere. Maybe he collapsed by the bed.” That voice sounded too familiar, Kamron almost recognised it.
It spoke again, “That’s funny, he’s not layin’ around here anywhere.”
“Check the side room and the closet.” said a third voice evidently the other two’s commanding officer. “Traiy, you go to the car and get some thermal scanners, he may have a concealed room.”
“Yes sir.” Said that all too familiar voice.
Then it struck him, the voice, he knew who it belonged to. “That traitorous little-”
Suddenly, breaking Kamron out of his reverie, a soldier entered the bathroom. Luckily, Kamron had crouched behind the cabinet next to the door. As the soldier ventured further into the room, Kamron Pulled the legs out from under him, pulled out his switchblade, and savagely slit the throat of the soldier.
With one soldier taken out, Kamron crept towards the side room to confront the leader of the squad. Going into the room, he found the leader diligently investigating the closet back wall for creases. Dashing across the rather small secondary room, Kamron Rammed his still drawn switchblade into the leader’s back. Simultaneously covering his mouth, a picturesque stealth takedown. With all but one of the soldiers taken care of, only Traiy remained. Traiy.
Kamron didn’t know why but he slipped out into the empty hall and traversed the intricate system of hallways until he broke out into the rain and dark. He headed to the only place he could think of to go, the Hornet’s Nest. That was what the people called the broken down skyscraper outside the city limits where the Hornets made their home.
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