Within the City of Flowers, the scent of smoke was always present, under the air fresheners and purifiers. There was always something burning below the surface, behind the eyes of grim-faced Firebreakers and the thin ice exterior of the populace, the city smoldered like cooked meat.
And with that scent, with that aroma of fuel for the fire, came the predators. Brushfires, raking at the sides of the great Apple of the Arctic, swept along in the wake of their apocalyptic brother the PHOENIX. As was their duty, the breakers went to work, sacrificing more and more of themselves in the efforts to protect, to safeguard, and to shield from what was to all people, the threat of annihilation.
But you knew better than that, didn't you?
The flame had been burning long before the Firebird had reaped its toll, deep within your hearts, the Children of Prometheus, it was whispered in dark corners. Rumors, no, hear-say, nothing concrete to be discussed in the land of frozen logic and reason.
But still, the scent of smoke crept into so many ears, and Anchorage clenched, shuddering, on the edge of something...
Meanwhile, far to the south, the City of Champions, Edmonton, remained stalwart, girding their loins for what looked like the city on the verge, the well-protected bastion of Firebreak stood tall, and weighed its options.
They could not lose the north, this was certain, but should they defend Anchorage itself? A ravaged city like there had not been in almost a decade, all signs pointed to dissolution, HECATE remained silent on the matter.
Eyes turned south to Montreal, dug in as fiercely as ever against the ever-hungry south, to the Pacific Shield-Cities, battered by the Firebird's recent flight, digging in against the implacable tide to the West.
Attacked on all sides.
That was it, wasn't it?
The End.
Or, perhaps...?
ARC 1James Volhard (Zurvan)
SPARK
Anchorage, District 7
You exhaled steadily, smoke billowing from your nose like some sort of ancient dragon, meeting the cold, seemingly-emotionless eyes of your competitors, your rivals. It'd been harder than usual lately, something hardening the hearts and minds of the people on the brink, that quiet desperation had faded today, for some reason or another.
Something in the air, maybe?
The blase, droning voice of the newscaster blathered on about something or another, 'Breakers doing something in the snow-side districts, probably another nest. Which was good, you supposed, at least they were doing their jobs, and hey, if they're out there fighting the good fight, means they're not in here, looking for a certain someone.
You weren't particularly worried, though, you'd gotten pretty solid at not being found when you weren't interested.
Plus, Sweetheart Seven wasn't exactly a risky part of town, it was a Cop Place, not a Breaker Joint. Utopia had a habit of not addressing greed very well, and with all sorts of people under some stress, it was an alright place to relax a bit.
You cast your eyes around, wasn't too busy at around this time, just the four of you at the table.
One of the regulars, Heinrich Dobble, older guy, bitched and moaned a whole lot about how life was better before HECATE and ASPHODEL and all of that nonsense any geezer would go rambling about if you gave them half a chance. Pretty solid guy, though, never raised more than an eyebrow at you frequenting the tables, aside from a few grumbles about cheating. Currently he was bitching about his arthritis, slowly flexing his hands.
A girl, you didn't know her too well, flicked through the cards she was preparing to deal with an easy grace, only a light touch of frost to her exterior, to be safe (or so you were told). You think her name was Julie, or Janet, or something. She met your eyes dead on as your gaze passed, smiling blandly.
Then there was the last guy, who put you on edge the moment you saw him, he stunk of something. His thick face looked moist with sweat and his eyes were furtive, like an animal, his fingers were constantly moving around on the table, drumming, fidgeting, playing with a card. He looked nervous, on the edge.
Everyone could see it, grumpy old Heinrich was frowning at him so hard you'd think his brows'd stick that way.
The girl didn't seem bothered, but you caught her looking at him out of the corner of her eye, something glinting behind those glasses.
Your cards fluttered gently down and you swept them up in a hand, glancing over them speculatively.
6 of diamonds, 8 of clubs, house card's showing a 6.
Off to a good start already.
How do you proceed?
Bernard Incendio (Eru Erufu)
District 13, Anchorage
"Corporal, are your suppressants sufficient?"
It'd been a pretty common question since that gods-be-damned Firebird swept across the city. Not just for you, for everyone, Breakers were constantly under a high amount of stress, thus contributing to their poor reputations in some places.
It wasn't easy to win hearts and minds when to most people, you may as well be a soulless husk.
But they cared, they wouldn't be here if they didn't, you wouldn't be here if you didn't.
It was a brotherhood, and you all looked out for each other, even if it was in detached, almost clinical ways.
Like this one.
A Breaker showing emotion wasn't typically too bad, maybe they were a weirdo, maybe they just needed a higher dosage, or command figured they had enough cojones to get away with it.
But now? Now it was all hands on deck, an S-Class sweeping across the city, all of those people, Danny, Lauren, all of them, up in so much flame, all under that damned screeching, like a nightmare.
So, today, when the suppressants had barely worked for you normally, and now may as well not work at all, and you've got your heart on your sleeve, people take notice.
Case in point, Sergeant Waters, 'Eliza', she'd confided to you when the squad got to head off to French Heaven down south for Leave, looking at you like a judge with a gavel ready to fall. Looking at her, it was easy to see why some of the stragglers, the people between the cracks, were so afraid of you all sometimes. Harsh, cold, unyielding, behind the masks, you may as well be a bunch of soulless robots.
You'd be seeing some of those people today, humanitarian efforts, but when you were heading out to the Snowside Districts, 13 most of all...
You shifted in your kit, while it wasn't full on Battle Rattle, you were loaded for bear.
There was a brief, almost microscopic hesitation, unless you were around people, your fellows, your brothers as much as you were, you wouldn't see it, wouldn't feel it in the air.
She's worried about you.
They all are.
Why wouldn't they be? You're a hero, at least that's what the papers were calling you.
You'd earned a fair bit of leave, but you'd stayed on for a bit, at least until the Commander himself made you, which, honestly probably wasn't far off.
It didn't exactly calm fears, however, and there was a lot of fear going around these days.
"Are you fit to fight?"