Another day in paradise, hungry and harassed by wolves with weapons, Jin inhaled deeply as he eyed the black smoke smothering the sky. His brown eyes barely pierced the shadows of his hooded, half-masked face, but they told the same undeniable story of fatigue. He was tired and frustrated, wishing for anything but the same daily struggles. Now, staring into dark plumes of death, he dared to fathom what catastrophe had struck. The intensity of the explosion meant no less than a bomb, but its scale in current times was startling. Recalling his life spared with nervous words of a concentration camp, it was believable that a Novus Ordo outpost was the eruption’s source. If so, could somebody have been fighting them? Jin was a moth to flame, longing to evade his pains but drawn to the light of fire. Its mysteries called him, but more importantly, he was tired of running. He set his intentions and nodded internally, forgetting for a moment his growing aches and hungers. Another deep breath, Jin fully embraced his filtered air, readying himself to stand when a woman’s voice interrupted him.

[i]“Are you alright?”[/i]  she asked him, appearing like a ghost and making him flinch. He had no idea where she had come from, making him question how bad his awareness had become. [i]She then pointed to the thick plumes of black smoke in the distance. “Good news or bad news? Where are you headed?”[/i]

Jin stared up at her from the dusty concrete, caught off guard and confused. He hadn’t been spoken to in a non-threatening manner for weeks, now so many people were at each other’s throats. Outlining her mask with his eyes, he tried to deduce her, suspicious of her intentions. Then, noticing her katana, his muscles tightened. Only a skilled swordsperson could wield such a blade effectively, meaning a clash of steel was best avoided.

[i]“You can handle that thing?”[/i]  he asked her, referring to her katana, before shuffling backwards and returning to his feet. A gentle breeze brushed against his tanned clothes, bringing with it the burning smell of soot. It occurred to him that standing casually in a charging station’s car park seemed particularly awkward given the circumstances. Then again, it wasn’t unusual to become desensitised to danger. Humans always were an adaptable species.

Jin, recognising that he had ignored the woman’s questions, gestured his thumb to the smoke plumes. [i]“I’m going there,”[/i]  he said with confidence, but more realistically stupidity. He had barely eaten in days, which could make the sanest man do the craziest of things. [i]“I’m stupid like that,”[/i]  he continued, secretly insecure that he’d be judged negatively for it. [i]“But food doesn’t grow on dead trees, so…”[/i]

He shrugged, not entirely keen on conversation but compelled to be polite. He wasn’t content with his former self, awkward and problematic, quick to blame others for his shortcomings. It was a long time ago, but he hadn’t forgotten about it. Instead, clearing his throat through discomfort, he asked the mysterious woman, [i]“And you? Where are you going?”[/i]

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The small town of Bravado was generally quiet, aside from the presence of Novus Ordo soldiers and their neighbouring camp. They kept its inner workings concealed from prying eyes, and their aggressiveness to a minimum. The townspeople often benefited them, from importation of clean water to a small plot of land still growing vegetables. The Novus Ordo sought to protect these benefits, though it often meant taking people’s resources as payment.

Rumours of ill-doing had spread of the neighbouring camp, but most people stayed silent. It was believed the Novus Ordo was imprisoning and torturing their opposition, if only innocent people rejecting their oppressive ways. Ignorance was bliss, and most people willingly accepted it, knowing those who stood otherwise often paid the price.

But not everybody was willing to lie down, now devastation had now struck the Novus Ordo. The explosion, erupting from within the private confines of their sandy camp, was no accident. It was the collaborative art of a rebellion, united from broken communities to seek justice and paint their enemies in flames. The Novus Ordo’s camp was their blank canvas, and its assault would begin from the inside-out. Indeed, it was only the beginning, but the N.O.'s hand this day would be challenged, and forced by its end to repay some of its debt.