[color=6ecff6]	Marcus quickly swiped his mug as everyone poured their beverages. It wasn't the greatest quality of tea that was available in the World, but it provided the sweet taste that everyone wished to have during some [i]Down-time[/i]. All 14 of the Freedom Fighters would all drink together, talking to one another and radioing in to other Nests in Civilian tones to keep the casual theme. The New-Order hadn't to worry about anything, as telecommunications in this area was mainly subjected to a single channel for those with Radios. It could be quite chaotic, which is why smaller Sub-channels were made for certain areas. These made communications less hectic and more clearer to understand who was exactly trying to get your attention. It was mainly for casual groups of adults who'd share tongues and laughter over the transmitter. Marcus would sit quietly and listen, occasionally laughing as well. There was a lot of tension within his chambered mind. A new announcement that would keep himself worried and uncomfortable for a long time. Marcus would go back and replay the audio-message as he finished preparing his tea...[/color]

[color=82ca9d][i]	"As far as we are concerned, there has been a large increase of New-Order contact since the [b]'Order: 51.B'[/b]. For those not up to date with recent New-Order movement, [b]'Order: 51.B'[/b] was the mass-breach on Nest 7, which resulted in only 2 surviving personnel. One of which is within Nest 3 and the other has been collected by the New-Order forces. We can only say that is is fair to understand that perhaps the fighter, identified as [b]'Finch'[/b], had been portrayed as a Lost cause within the action, claimed to be, by-far, dead amongst the rest. We are unsure on whether he has been able to identify any of the other Nests, as those within that Nest weren't informed of Nest locations. However, we can confirm that a few personnel details have been identified, and though your locations may be safe, certain codenames and civilians are now on a [b]List.[/b] We have already received news that two of those identified were already killed upon an Operation, which had been compromised, though we can also confirm that there are at least another 9 who's identities aren't in just the Flock's hands.

	For your safety, when within a highly populated area, it is safe to keep some sort of weapon or defence mechanism upon personnel kit at all times. We cannot lose anyone, even if only 9 are identified. We need to ensure everyone's safety, as the Flock can only work when we are collected as a large group. I wish the best and hope this warning has an effect...End Call."[/i][/color]

	[color=6ecff6]	The voice was a low and croaky voice, obviously transformed into some Robotic-style noise to cover and identification. That is what [i]Earton[/i] did. Whether it was a He or a she was only but a puzzle to the world, and he/she wanted it to stay that way. His own flesh and blood were not allowed to ever meet such a person, and those who followed its outrageous actions never receive any information about this being, apart from the Nickname [b]Earton[/b]. Marcus understood why these precautions were always taken, and so he had to understand what the real danger ahead was. Outside was a horrible-metallic place, and even inside the safety of their own Nest there was never no-threat. This always terrified Marcus.

	To his left, Shikra, Goshawk and Besra would look at him as he took the simplest of small sips. Very minute gulps usually meant something was troubling the ever-worried man, and that usually worried everyone else. Marcus was known to have feared things that came true momentarily after. It was a cautionary superstition, but no one ever really wanted to take any chances when they knew an ever-strong force was waiting to come knocking on their door. Harrier was already rambling on a small briefing with his usual humorous tone to the rest not focusing on Marcus. He was a larger man, Harrier. No one really was like him. He wore much larger armour variants that to those his comrades wore, he focused on ground based movement and protection from enemy shrapnel and bullet-storms. He was a man of many tactical emplacements, movement and fighting strategies that had lead such a Nest to become the legendary Elite Hawks. He says '[b]Legendary[/b]' as if it were true, though in theory they were just a little bit infamous among their own ranks. Harrier was a true idol for the morale of the Resistance Cell, and has sometimes been the topic of auctioning among other Cells, only to be declined. Determination was a single word that could describe such a bloodthirsty soul. Typical for someone fighting for what they thought was right...

"I'm...gonna go drink outside." Marcus would mutter. The trio to his left would listen to his quiet words.

"If you are doing that, some of us will come with you...to, y'know, make sure you don't die or drink too close to the Nest." Besra would say. Besra was the callsign of Luther Martindale, one of the opposite personalities to the awkwardness of Marcus. He was much shorter, much more chatty and confident with life. He believed that what they were really fighting for was the chance to give the world a second chance, saying that [i]'To make peace come true, eliminate everyone so there is no one left to fight'.[/i] It was nerving to hear a man think that way, but he wasn't exactly wrong. Marcus nodded, letting him be followed. He walked to the large, metallic Cog door, twisting the valve to open it up. The clanging sound echoed through the entire Nest, and irritated some of the tired Fighters. Marcus was half-way through opening the door when he noticed how Goshawk and Shikra were also in pursuit of his Tea-drinking spot. He was about to question their actions, when only a sigh of a large lack of attempt came out. He didn't want to complain enough, as it would just lead to them questioning why he was so down all the time, as it always ended as. Eventually, the four pushed open the door and leapt into the world.

[hr]
	He sat there, sipping from his drink. He had moved it into a flask to ensure he wouldn't spill any when climbing a higher building. It was still warm, and he was lucky to have managed to buy a Vacuum Flask from a tradesman claiming to have retrieved it from [i]Beyond the City[/i]. Marcus knew about the Scouts, and didn't understand their reasoning. Going out into a destroyed world to look for equipment, when he had already noticed how much Technology the world had and was creating. Out there would probably be nothing, just nothing. It wouldn't surprise him at all, or anyone, if a lot of them died from both bordem and stupidity once they were out there. Who could tell, apart from surviving bands, of what laid beyond it. Whether it was a blank wasteland, or another civilisation of rampant rabbits or something, it was completely his guess. Marcus' feet was right on the edge of the tower. It was a medium sized office-complex, standing around 14 stories tall. It was quite tall, and a challenge to peak, but it was worth it to ensure that their Nest was in safe hands. The three behind him were silent, two walking around with larger firearms. They were listening to what Earton's message said, and they were prepared. Marcus wasn't wearing his helmet or head-gear, only his body armour and boots.

"So...Sparrow-eh?" Shikra spoke up. Shikra was a quiet type, just like Marcus was. She was slightly less able than the man himself, and was a lot less combat efficient in the real world. What a joy that would be. "You...alrig-" She was silenced when a hand covered her mouth. Goshawk was holding it as she listened. It made Marcus paranoid as he turned, trying to figure out why she was doing so. She was focusing in on the distant world. There was another Office Complex, probably higher and at least 200m away from where they were. She had her eyes narrowed through thick and misty goggles. Everyone else followed her eyes as they looked to the building...Everyone waited in silence, anticipated to find out what exactly she was staring at. They looked deeper and deeper, everyone narrowing their eyes to Zero in on the spacing building. Marcus slowly moved, placing his flask onto the ground. As soon as it tapped onto the rock-solid rooftop, a small glisten appeared from the building. It looked like someone was shining a mirror towards them, sending them a signal or a message. That was when they all realised. It was someone sending a message, and that message was going to be a .50 BMG round filled to the brim with speed and anger...Marcus' eyes widened. "SH-SHIT! LOOK OU-" A zip in the air, followed by a thin vapour trail silenced the woman, as Marcus turned, seeing her drop to the ground with ease. Her chest flickered blood and gore as her armour and under-clothing became stained with the organs inside of her. The projectile passed straight through her, pinging off of the ground behind her. The angle was from a slightly higher up height, meaning that the glisten was the cause. Everyone dived down behind anything they could find, Marcus running for the rooftop doorway. He quickly grabbed the door handle, hearing the other two begin to exchange rounds with whoever was firing at them. A loud noise was being projected from the rooftop, clearly capable to the audible hearing of citizens below. He thrusted his arm into a contracted position, ripping the door from the closed state to open. However, the only result he managed to bring was fear, as he saw the dressed figure. Large armour, helmet concealing their face, was a soldier. And not just any soldier, this attacker was, but a member of the New-Order. Marcus felt like time was slowing down as he watched the man pull the trigger, sending a single round straight into the right shoulder of the man. Pain shot straight through him as he let out a cry in pain, the other two turning to see him fall backwards to the ground. The personnel responsible for his injury walked out, standing in front of his fallen body and raising their weapon to fire and end their comrade, was sighted by the other two. Running around one side, Goshawk rushed around, evading incoming rounds from the attacking crackshot, whilst Besra quickly turned, ejecting shells from the side slot as he unloaded projectiles into the body of the CQC assaulter. A faint shot was heard, as Marcus turned with less-than-no energy in his body. He was in shock from everything. The experience was happening so fast that it was like everything was prepared for their arrival. He looked directly as his saviour, before seeing how the faint shot's bullet crammed itself into the skull of Besra, shattering his head. The body quickly fell down as the cracked skull and inner Mental Organs spewed out both liquid and blood. The shooting stopped as Marcus witnessed the horror of the man's death. From the doorway, several more armed operators emerged, seeing Marcus struggle against the floor. They gave little concern for their fallen comrade, bleeding to his heart's content on the solid floor. They simply kicked the body out of their feet's pathway, looking down upon the bleeding Resistance Fighter. A formally dressed man also emerged from the doorway, bearing a cap and dressing of high standard. He walked onto the rooftop with a great grin on his face as he looked around to see the destruction of the other two. His grin was barely cut short as an arm wrapped around his neck, a gun to his back as the woman backed away. Goshawk retreated backwards with him in her arms.

"STEP BACK, OR I PUT A BULLET INTO HIS BACK!" She yelled, feeling that herself had the upper hand. Marcus should've started his escape, crawling along the ground, but he only laid down weakly with shock and horror gleaming in his eyes. He spectated the quick-paced action. The soldiers turned looking at the Hostage-situation happening right behind their backs. A grin slowly crawled back up onto the higher-up's face as he gleamed into the distance, not looking directly at his Squad. Lucinda's head was exposed...'[i]Move...Lucinda Move! MOVE!'[/i] The thoughts flashed through his mind as he tried to speak, only then realising it was too late. Another shot from the crack-marksman left nothing but a limp body and a large pool of blood. Marcus' eyes widened largely. He slowly reached for his sidearm, being the only weapon he brought along with himself. He drew it, aiming it at whoever came first into his sights. He managed to fire a single shot, before a foot pressed down onto his arm. He moaned in great pain, looking back to see he had successfully managed to knee-cap an Operative. A few more soldiers surrounded both the injured soldier and the defeated fighter. They looked as if they were about to pull the trigger onto him, when a voice silenced them.

"Mmhmm...that's right...we got those one's. Origin? Not entirely sure but I can imagine they are pretty dangerous.....No...no of course not Ma'am...report? Three dead...we got one incapacitated in front of us...yes...yes he is disarmed...Ye-...well...we were about to shoot hi-...Yes Ma'am...y-yes...I understand..." The sound of a radio-link cutting off lead by a sigh carried on. "Stand down...apparently we need to take this one?" A groan of confusion as the drones all stood around, staring directly at the Officer as if he were speaking a foreign language. "WELL COME ON! FUCKING HELL! MOVE! We'd want to get him back before his corrupted blood bleeds out anyway..." His eyes ringed with fear as Marcus felt himself be dragged away; his handgun slipped from his hands as he began to feel more pain from the gun-wound. He wriggled, struggling to break free from the grasp of the soldiers. They were just about to bring him to the door when they stopped, dragging him upwards onto his weak feet. A masked warrior stared deeply into his soul, bellowing into his ears...

"Stop fucking wriggling!" Within the next second, Marcus felt like he was flying in the air, weightless...that was until he saw the downward descent of the stairway flying towards his eyes...[/color]