Breaking news: “The Iskiros Metropolatan police executed a daring arrest in a south side apartment complex this morning, where they arrested one Star Ingram. Sources say that she is involved with the unnamed terrorist organization led by the one calling himself Prometheus. Ingram was reportedly seen at St. Peter’s Memorial on the day of the bombing and sources suggest she may have been instrumental in carrying out this heinous attack.

“In other news, a local landlord found the remains of a tenant after responding to numerous noise complaints. He entered the woman’s apartment after midnight and found her unresponsive. The police investigation is ongoing and they have yet to release the woman’s identity. Could foul play have been involved? Be sure to tune in at 6 to find out more. ‘Your source for all news worth knowing.’”

Cool and confident — that’s what I associated with my black mask. Although, I think others associated it more with Callousness, maybe even Cruelty. But few seem to realize that Compassion just wasn’t on the table at times, and it was the leader’s responsibility to know when those times were upon us. We were sowers of dissension, an overthrown table amidst the status quo. We were Chaos — the compromise between Confidence and Callousness. And as I slid my black mask into place, I became that Chaos.

An open trench coat framed my form. The lower hem brushed the sides of my calves as I left my office, climbing the stairs that departed the basement. Those of the Asylum had welcomed me — an outsider who had lived above them most of his life. My office helped me remember my place in it all. I had a debt — something to give back to those worlds above me — a debt I aimed to level.

The resistance’s headquarters, our home, had a common room at the top of the stairs. Two dark-leather sofas occupied the space, along with an elongated table and accompanying chairs for team meetings. Darla was adorning one of the sofas. She had been biting her thumb nail as I crested into her view, quickly retracting the hand into a sleeve of her over-sized shirt.

“Busted,” I announced.

She jumped up and rushed to hug me. “I’m sorry, Promo. I tried to tell her but she took too long.”

Darla was beating herself up. Because, of course she was. She might have been more awake than most, but she couldn’t see that there were somethings in life that would forever be outside of our control.

I set my palm atop her head and she sniffled. “There will be time for that later. Did you get ahold of Marcus?”

“Yeah,” she replied, lifting her glasses to brush her sleeve against her cheek. “He wants to know if you need him in on this.”

“No. If ever there was something to compromise his position on, it would be in deliberately saving others. But they’ve already got her and there’s too much heat on this. Just get him to feed us whatever information he can while not compromising his position.”

“You were right. They’re moving her out of the city. Some Suits are at the station and awaiting her transport. They’re accompanying her. This isn’t normal, Promo.”

“Yeah. I thought this had corporate stink on it. Likely, pissed about the research we liberated with fire. Not sure what that’s got to do with the girl though.”

“So, what’s our play?”

“Whether she likes it or not, Star’s one of us now. And we don’t leave ours behind. Find out what you can from Marcus. Tell him we’re mounting up and to stay out of it. I’ll see to the crews.”

Darla nodded and ran to ascend a set of stairs abutting a far wall, her thick soles thundering up, then across the room above.

I walked to a wall opposite, grabbed a locking bar, unseated it, then slid a door open. The scaffolding stairs that awaited me would lead to the elevated front porch — the sounds of eager engines idling and revving, echoing to span our underground district.

The street out front was lined with modified buggies and similar vehicles that seemed kitted out for raiding across the surface of some distant planet that wasn’t our own. Spikes and chains were a common feature. Neon reds and purples were scrawled across their surfaces and glowed bright under the black-lit illumination that had transformed the Asylum’s mood.

Unfortunately, that distant planet was a place right next door. The city had long since killed all vegetation in the Asylum, and had subsequently killed that of the topsiders’ — an infection that didn’t stop at the city’s boarders. Now, east of the city was a barren wasteland, pockmarked by ever shrinking islands of shriveled greenery as the craggy, dried surface pressed in on them from all sides.

Iskiros might have been the metropolitan jewel of the entire world, but they were willfully overlooking the real world consequence of its existence. But that was a fight for another day.

Today, there was madness to corral. It might have been subject to direction, but it was no less madness. Riders occupied gun-mounted seats and leaned out from driver and passenger side windows to strike clubs against metal roll bars and frames in a cadence that might have seemed like thunder, their war chant calming as I took a bullhorn from an awaiting Ameelio.

“They’re waiting for you,” he said.

“My neighbors,” I called, the thunder fading. “I thank you for attending our meeting on such short notice. And I’m grateful you’ve all come to see me off. We’ve learned that the Suits have captured one of Selene’s own — one Star Ingram. Perhaps you’ve heard of her.

“If any of you have paid any attention to the news, you’ll no doubt know that they’ve already lumped her into the St. Peter’s incident by claiming that she’s one of ours. Well, I’m inclined to believe them about the last part. And if she’s ours, then perhaps she’ll need a ride home.”

Darla tugged at my sleeve, so I bent to lend her my ear.

“Five vehicles. Three are armed escorts. They’re moving her in a van. The other’s their command vehicle. It’ll likely be number two in their lineup.”

“Any officers in with them?”

“It doesn’t look that way. Should just be suits. A couple of white coats too. Maybe some kind of scientists.”

My mouth flattened into a line. “Something the police are distancing themselves from. That’s its own kind of troubling. I wonder how they’ll cover for her sudden “disappearance.”

She shrugged. “Dunno. But, Promo? Marcus said she’s drugged. She’s not conscious.”

“Guess we won’t have to worry about her resisting when we recover her.” I nodded, returning my attention to the crowd, the bullhorn’s squelch elicited silencing the growing disquiet.

“I’ll be up against five vehicles. Four of them are armed and our Star is being transported in the fifth — a van. I’ll meet them in the badlands, where I’m sure their convoy will encounter various mechanical malfunctions. If any of you wonderful people are interested in helping one of your own, then I invite you — ”

The thunder crescendoed, cutting me off as a smirk spread underneath my black mask. I suppose that could be forgiven. I raised my hand, calling for silence again, so that they wouldn’t drown out the bullhorn. “Message received. Thank you, friends. If this was you, rest assured that you’d have the same effort aimed at your recovery. This will be a live fire operation. Just expect them to shoot back.”

“As soon as their convoy leaves the city, we move. Make your preparations and be ready.”

The thunder grew deafening once again.