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Zeia awoke to the echo of far-off gunshots. She sighed groggily, just like every morning since she'd been old enough to know what those shots meant: another twenty-or-so almost innocents had just felt their souls leave their bodies as the cold judgment of the Emperor descended upon them. And just like every other morning, Zeia swore to herself that she would wake one morning to a clock, and not that horrible sound of finality.

She rolled over to see Sera sitting on the floor, using their chair as a workbench to adjust the settings on her boots. Grunting, she dragged herself to her feet and made her way over to the water dispenser.

"Morning, lead-for-legs." How kind of her to start the ribbing so early. Zeia sipped some of the lukewarm water that leaked from the pipes above them before glumly plopping back down onto the bunk.

"Morning."

"How'd you sleep?"

Zeia glared at her, clearly jealous of Sera's comatose state from the night before.

"Like hell. Had some things on my mind, so I went for a walk."

Sera nodded, "I heard you get up. Bit bothered about yesterday I bet. Seems to me like you're starting to lose your touch, little Miss Veteran."

"Shut up," Zeia growled. "I had them right where I wanted them until you decided you'd play hero."

"Mhm." Damn, she was smug this morning. Zeia let it slide though; her run-mate had every right to be pissed off. That misjudging of distance had almost cost them both their lives, not to mention their cover. Sera quietly changed the subject. "There were two squads today."

Zeia crushed the Styrofoam she had been using as a cup in surprise. "Two? Why?"

Sera didn't look up from her boot. "There were too many for just one, I guess. You slept through the first, but from how loud it was and how long it echoed I'd say around 55 dead." Now she looked up, worry clear in her eyes. "It's getting worse."

Thoughts anxiously clawed through Zeia's mind. The biggest execution she'd seen reported in the past five years was sixty-two; this was uncomfortably close.

"Attention, all runners: gather in Terminal 6C for a breakdown of today's run. Five minutes." The small speaker in their room jolted her from her concerns.

"Well, back to it then," Sera quipped, quickly strapping up her boot and heading for the door. "See you out there. And bring that one thing you usually bring... oh yeah," she yelled back as she hurried out, "focus."

___________________________

The dilapidated metro terminal they used as a meeting area was already mostly filled with other runners by the time Zeia got there. Thankfully, Sera had found a spot along the wall in the back where her tardiness wouldn't be noticed. She snaked her way carefully through her brethren and took a seat next to her run-mate.

The low murmur in the room became complete silence as the lights dimmed for the projector screen, and the Patriarch, Quavi, emerged from behind it.

"Good morning, family. I trust you all slept well, as we will be getting straight to business today." He motioned toward the back. "Mala, if you would." The Matriarch slid the first slide into place with a loud click, and a grainy photo of several police loading crates into a large armored vehicle appeared on the screen. Quavi continued. "As you can see, we have intelligence concerning a convoy of ammunition leaving East Bend in about ninety minutes," Mala spun a dial to zoom in on the crates, where shell measurements and munition types were blurry but visible. "We need to stop this convoy from reaching its destination, which we believe is in Dockton." Another photo of a receiving station flashed onto the screen. Quavi grinned slightly, "And it would do us no harm to commandeer some of these supplies either. We haven't really been armed in months."

There was a murmur of approval throughout the gathered mutants. Zeia smirked; this was going to be quite the work out.

The Patriarch retrieved a pointer from the park bench behind him as the picture changed again to a roughly sketched map of south Hibiscus, with the assumed route of the convoy clearly annotated.

"This run will consist of two teams, one to sabotage, and one to recover. The first team will click in at Junction SE541-22," he traced his instructions with the pointer, "breakthrough at drain access 221-BGG, and blend. That team will find appropriate clothing in a dumpster by the breakthrough, and will have about five blocks to walk to the choke point. They will arrive about ten minutes early, before blending, so as not to arouse suspicion in the surrounding law enforcement. Once the convoy has arrived, they will discreetly sabotage key vehicles within it and retreat to a minimum safe distance, potentially drawing away any on-foot patrols. As always, keep an eye out for civilians straying into harm's way; casualties of that nature are unacceptable." He paused as another map was displayed, this one outlining the sewer network and newer subway tunnels beneath East Bend. "The second team will infiltrate the area underneath the choke point, neutralizing any subway security and staying out of sight. Once the convoy has been halted and the opposition led away, team two will breakthrough at the access points along the street and begin moving the supplies back into the tunnel, where the support teams will have carts ready to quickly transport them back to Forinth." The slides clicked off. "Any questions?"

The terminal was largely silent, then, a big, booming voice echoed off the walls.

"When do I get to blow shit up?"

Zeia cringed as the rest of the gathered runners broke into stifled laughter. As always, Kal was the first to speak and the last to think. Her old run-mate was now her constant competitor, and although Sera found endless joy in the way he tormented her, Zeia was beyond tired of his attempts to usurp her leadership role. However, it seemed today was not his day.

"Zeia and Sera will be fulfilling the role of team one today Kal. You and Tiz will be taking team two, and maintaining radio contact with them in case they need any assistance." A cloud came over Kal's face at this. "Understood?"

"Yes, Quavi. As you wish," he growled.

The Patriarch smiled. "Good, then you are all dismissed for breakfast. Be at your assigned starting positions in twenty minutes, and we shall begin."

_____________________________

Breakfast was small, and dry, just like it always was before a run. Nothing heavy to weigh them down, nothing to make them sluggish. Zeia assumed it was just oats, as per usual, but less of them and a few supplements mixed in. It didn't really matter.

As team one, they had been instructed to wear the skin-tight, unarmored base layer rather than the usual, heavier suit. This was to keep any noticeable bulk from appearing beneath their blending attire. Still, this made Zeia nervous. Just like Quavi had said, they weren't armed and hadn't been for awhile. If something went wrong, they had no defense but speed, and no offense at all...at least, nothing to compete with a POTP assault rifle. This really needed to go well.

Using a star-wrench, she overclocked her boots slightly, giving her a bit more movement assistance. She needed to be careful not to overdo it though; if she gave herself too much extra speed and agility through the hardware, she wouldn't be accustomed to it and it would make her clumsy. She kept it in a comfortable range, lifted her arms so Sera could zip the sides of the base layer up, and followed her out to the access.

Everything was normal, everything was quiet. There was a sliver of light coming from the manhole cover above them, just enough that they knew they were in the right place. They both stretched and checked one last time that their boots were calibrated, before clicking the earpieces that had been left by the wrench on the floor into their ears and climbing up into the daylight- if you could call it that.

In the city proper, there was always a haze. When this had still been Tokyo, it had been one of the biggest, busiest, most heavily populated cities in the world, and with good reason: it had been the planet's capital. The UN had been situated here since the fall of America, and the United Global Parliament had been housed in its highest 'scrapers too. But then, the world fell apart.

The bombs had fallen, lashing out across the continents with such vigor and blood-lust that for a few years, Zeia and her family had honestly thought they might be the last on the globe. But slowly, over time, more had emerged, crawling and clawing their way from beneath the ruins and finding each other and rebuilding. But it would never, ever be the same as it was. The people had devolved into an anarchy, a post-holocaust daze that rewarded the strong and devoured the weak. The mightiest among them led tribes and constructed little kingdoms for themselves where they could sit in safety and wage war with bodies that weren't even their own, bathing in the blood of the conquered and living lavishly in the wealth of their stolen lives. It was ironic, Zeia thought, that the largest of these kingdoms would eventually spring up where the old world had died, and the most powerful of these leaders would build his throne on the bones of dead kings and call himself their Emperor. So Hibiscus was born, the Flower of the Pacific, and people flocked here in droves to seek shelter from the hellish wasteland beyond its walls. The Emperor offered a community, and structure, and some semblance of civilization; it was too tantalizing an offer in the midst of the hubris. Through promises of utopia, the man had built it up to something like what it had been before the skies had burned, and it had only taken him a decade. Only after the walls were high and the structured hierarchy in place did the desperate masses realize that they had been baited into slavery.

Laws were passed, laws that would have been smothered before the end of it all. Laws that gave freedom to the Emperor to do whatever he pleased and break whomever he willed. His police he dubbed Power Over the People, mocking his citizens even as they still called him their Savior. Now, as Zeia and her run-mate emerged from the forgotten labyrinth under the city, she remembered how it had been, when she was little, and what it was now. The streets were all but deserted. The only people allowed to travel far were those that worked, to and from their assigned jobs on the highways in cars they did not control. It wasn't so bad at night, but during the day the air was hazy and noxious and orange from the fumes that rose up from the factories and vehicles. The POTP moved about frequently, but only to keep the people placated and mostly contained in their homes. Food and drink were all provided, though never enough, and entertainment was a rare choice: propaganda on a screen, or propaganda over the radio. The nuclear fallout had made most infertile. The fertile ones were kept for the Emperor, and the rest of the needed population was grown now, asexually manufactured. The world here was cold, originality had died, and creativity or any other form of unique thought was quickly cut out like a cancer; every morning, with the squads.

The two runners reached the dumpster and retrieved the camouflage: they were going to be nuns today, complete with veils. Zeia smirked. They were so clearly not human anymore themselves that any type of blending had to include a head covering of some kind. The nuns were a common choice. Religion had all but died, but the Emperor had written himself into a manuscript of his own design and allowed it to be spouted by prophets, his temples tended by nuns. The POTP had become privy to the costumes through past excursions though, so this cover was only utilized when other nuns were in the area of a run.

The earpiece buzzed to life, and Kal's gruff voice came whispering through it. "Zeia, you there?" Already radio silent in preparation, she tapped the heel of her boot once, sending a single tone through to the other team. One for yes, two for no, three for why. "Alright. You've got a decent-sized group of people right beyond the end of the alley. There's a few nuns scattered throughout it." She tapped three times as she and Sera began moving out toward the street. Kal understood; this wasn't their first rodeo, by any means. "The crowd, from what we can tell, is moving along in the opposite direction of the convoy. Seems like a prayer assembly. You'll fit right in." Her heel clicked the pavement one last time as they emerged from the alley and were seamlessly absorbed by the throng as they moved and chanted dully.

Sera subtly tapped her partner's hand and began to move off further ahead into the crowd. Zeia could make out the front edge of the police crowded around the slower moving vehicles of the convoy. They were about five hundred yards ahead, moving around the same speed as the masses the runners were using as cover. She could make out the access around three hundred yards ahead. Almost perfect, Quavi. It'd be too easy if I didn't have to improvise a little, she thought. The access would be a little ahead of them when the cargo vehicles were in position, and, she realized, the prayer group was not even with them, they were off to the side. Zeia watched as the POTP inched closer, noting the tactical grenade each of them had swinging from their bandoliers. They were designed to break into buildings and clear out any revolutionary citizens, and could be used to placate larger groups of adversaries in a pinch. She had a plan. She needed to catch back up with Sera, swiftly.

She quietly, calmly tried to shoulder her way through the teeming horde. The front row of police was even with her, out in the street. A few of them seemed to note the disturbance and turned their gaze her way, but none of them moved off. The front of the first truck was only a few yards away. If she didn't find her run-mate she was going to have to go for it. She took a breath and readied herself...

Someone grabbed her arm. She turned. It was a human, another nun. She started to say something to relieve her captor's suspicion when there was a commotion from the road, the POTP were yelling. There was a decent-sized _bang_and the confused police fired a few rounds. The crowd began to panic and surge back. Zeia smiled under her veil; Sera knew, she shouldn't have worried. She took advantage of her captor's temporary alarm and yanked her arm away before sidling adroitly through the running masses, using the flesh as cover and the armor she lacked. She removed the robes she wore over her run suit, relying on the mayhem to keep her furred arms and tail from being noticed. The veil, she kept, knowing her face would instantly make her a target.

The crowd thinned as she neared its farthest edge. She readied herself again. The police were only a few feet in front of her, still craning their necks and trying desperately to find the cause of the diversion. It was time. She grinned, and ran.

The second truck was right in front of her, she raised her arms over her head and barreled into the ribs of the nearest officer, pulling the pin from his grenade as she removed it from his chest, even as he fell to the ground. She cringed as a few pacification rounds thudded into the asphalt and POTP around her, inciting grunts of pain through their masks. She couldn't go over the top like Sera had; she saw the side of the transport in front of her, the three all-terrain wheels separated by only a couple of feet. She had to do it.

Making herself as narrow as she could, she baseball slid between the two front wheels, feeling the rubber tickle her fur as she cleared it by millimeters. In an instant, she brought her heel to the ground and the hardware read it as "brake". She dead-stopped under the vehicle, dropped the grenade, and scampered on all fours toward the back of the truck. As she scrambled to safety, she saw the cover of the access slide open under the third truck, Kal and Tiz were already there, ready to go.

She was out, the explosive went off, cracking against the mechanical belly of the convoy in a spray of sparks and oil. The truck stopped. She sprinted. The police behind her frantically swapped out rubber bullets for live ammo as they saw her separate from the crowd and her body and boots registered to them finally. She heard the weapons click loaded. She needed to see, she tore the veil off.

Ahead of her was mostly open. There was a railing a few yards beyond near some stairs, which looked like they led into a park. That was it.

_ Tuck your legs, brace your arm, clear the railing, stick the landing, keep momentum, roll._ As soon as the boots became flush to the ground again, they locked, keeping her stable, before firing static up into her calves. Speed, speed. She could hear the bullets zipping by as they fired from too far beyond the top of the steps to get an angle. She saw the buildings clustered together at the border of the manicured park grass, little-to-no cover between her and them. They were too close. She'd have to make do. She just hoped Sera was safe and there weren't even more POTP waiting for her beyond the cusp of the structures.

The rounds began to crack into the ground a few feet behind her and to either side as the officers reached the railing and took aim. She strained. The boots wouldn't give her any more juice than they already were. A round ricocheted off the side of the hardware, the only armored bit on her body. She said a little prayer, thanked her stars. Park bench, on the edge of the grass. She had the proper angle... make the cover if there was none. She turned her body to parallel with the furniture, trying her best to hit it with her feet to avoid any broken bones. The contact still made her grunt, but it was enough. The force of it uprooted the seat from the ground and backwards, as she rolled over the backrest and away from it. The seat was now shielding her from the incoming fire, and she had enough distance on them that she crawled to the wall before clambering up and into the alley between the looming buildings.

_ This_was the playground. This was where she was God. Dumpsters were platforms to boost her higher, debris was cover, corners were distance from them and places to lose them, fire escapes and rooftops gave the chase another dimension that they were usually ill-equipped to traverse. Vault the trash, skid the corner, brace the boots, brake, jump, push off the ledge, where is Sera? The thought entered her mind because she heard her, off to the right, on the other side of a building. Their cover was blown, she broke the silence.

"Sera, where are you, I hear you. What's your status?"

"Disengage! Get back below! Now!" Zeia heard gunfire on the other side of the building in front of her. Redirect. She pushed off from the brick and barreled through a window, barely registering the frightened and surprised stares of the two humans in residence before she was five steps bounding across the room and exploding through the glass on the other side. She glimpsed Sera below, trying to get enough time to get above, and get out. She was surrounded by three POTP, kicking and punching and sliding and keeping them from executing her in that courtyard, but barely. Zeia arched backwards gracefully in midair, before firing off her thrusters and missile-ing herself brutally into the nearest officer. As she came down and connected, she grabbed the top of his head powerfully and brought it and his body beneath her as she crashed into the concrete.

It hurt, a lot. She was fairly certain she'd snapped something in her elbow, and the wind was ripped from her as well. The trooper was unrecognizable beyond a mangled hodgepodge of armor, bone, and tattered flesh. She hastily attempted to recover. Her left arm was unusable, and hung limply to her side. She shook her head to clear it. She was vaguely aware of her battered run-mate desperately continuing her attempts to disarm the other two officers. The one nearest to Zeia didn't have a gun anymore. She didn't see where it was, but she was aware he had a knife. She groggily moved toward him, relying on her sliplocks to steady her until she could reorient herself.

He saw her lunge his way, and stabbed toward her with the knife. She wasn't quick at the moment, but certainly she was quicker than the armored and bulky officer. She side-stepped, but to the wrong side, she'd forgotten she could only attack with the right. He slashed back and caught her across the ribs. She gasped sharply before grabbing his knife arm with her right paw... he began to overpower her, just by a bit. She redirected his power to force his arm out to the side, and as he came across his body to punch her wounded left, she held his right arm firmly, fired the thruster on her right boot, caught his jaw powerfully with her armored knee, shattering the bottom half of his mask. She relied on her other foot being braked to keep her planted, then brought her right hind-paw up and out into his abdomen, twisting his arm in her grip as she did so. His shoulder dislocated audibly. They separated and recovered for a moment, his breath gone, both of them sans an arm. He switched the knife to his right hand, she could tell he wasn't as confident with it. He feinted though, and she bit on it, and he brought the blade slamming into her hip...

She screeched in pain, saw his cut and bloodied lips under the bottom of the broken gasmask, noticed them smile a little, then turn back to stoic as he caught sight of his gun. She followed his eyes, left the knife in, it would halt the bleeding. They both staggered toward the weapon. He got there first, turned to fire at her, she grabbed it and leaned all of her weight into him, keeping it pinned perpendicular between them. He grunted with effort, trying to get the barrel facing any part of her.

She needed to use her other arm. That was all there was to it, they were too evenly matched. With visible effort and resolve, she slowly brought her left hand to the knife handle protruding from her leg, tried to pull it free... she didn't have enough strength in the arm. It was agony even now. She realized standing was tightening her muscles around the invasive weapon; she hooked her right boot heel behind his foot to get him off balance, brought them both to the ground, relaxed her left leg behind, slid the dagger from her side, fought through the blinding hurt to drive it into the only part of him she could reach; his thigh. He wasn't expecting it, he flinched, hard, long enough, for her to wrap her fingers under his and reorient the weapon to face his chin and pull the trigger. Three, four, five shots, gurgle, glaze, gone.

She relaxed as he went limp. She hurt, all over, every inch and she could feel the blood pouring from her ribs and hip and everywhere. She didn't know if Sera was OK. She hoped so, but she reallycouldn't move. After a long moment, a voice registered. It was Kal, over her earpiece, that was somehow still miraculously in place.

"..eia? Zeia! Get the fuck up you damn fool, you've got more on the way! Get below, now!" There was urgency in his voice, more than she'd heard in a long time. Her hearing cleared, she heard the sirens. She rolled onto her back and shrieked as sharp new pangs tormented the nerves. She caught the very end of Sera's fight, as her run-mate finally got her adversary's helmet off, grabbed his face and extended her claws into his cheeks and eyes and forehead as he screamed, then quieted. She let him fall, stood for a moment. Zeia noticed a deep, scarlet chunk that had been taken out of the side of her neck, uncannily close to the jugular. She hoarsely called to her, before bringing her only working arm behind her and weakly using it to sit up.

"Sera... we gotta go. They're coming." Sera turned toward her blankly, not comprehending. Zeia heard shouting from a few blocks away. She let some of the panic creep into her tone, hoping it would bring her companion back to reality. "Sera, fuck, help me get my feet under me and the boots will help my leg. Come on, bitch, you can sleep when you're dead."

After another long moment, Sera finally snapped to. She knelt beside Zeia, helped get the bottoms of her feet flush with the ground so they could brake, then pulled her up by her good arm. Zeia pointed them off in the opposite direction of the shouting and got them moving again.

"Kal. Kal, we're here. Where's the nearest access? They're close."

The other mutant breathed audibly into the microphone. "Fuck you, Zeia. Don't fucking scare me like that again. There's an access the direction you're heading, in a basement about a half mile up. Hurry."

"Such a...sweetheart. See you soon." And with that, she focused all of her effort on getting them home.