"Come on you lot, up and out!" I encourage my team of reporters as our makeshift militia locks the gates of my building behind us. The young lad in charge of carrying our spares jostles the equipment and awkwardly reaches for his collar.
"I don't know about this..." he squeaks, his eyes having a hard time ignoring the way the fires light up the night. It's hard to tell what's responsible for the blackouts in other parts of the city, but, there's no point in thinking about it. All that matters is that we get within range of either the stations or docks. While my group think we're just reporting injustice, I am after something more strategically valuable.
A good story.
"Chins up boys and girls, we're not going to be going near the rioters or looters." I somewhat lie as we will need to find the periphery of the former group. Quickly feeling out for my handgun, a trio of cogships come rushing in from what appears to be outside of the city. Whatever their purpose, it clearly isn't what's going on a few streets down from here. Looking back to my building, I give a final wave to those guarding their families and we go.
Holding a camera close, I start to fiddle with it while one of my larger engineers takes point. They didn't have to come, but, I welcome the machine-built sinew and the strength it brings. Fights are what we want to avoid though some big lads are a big part of keeping that a reality. If I only allowed spell-less women and boys to come, we'd be picked clean, gun or not.
"Sir?" someone asks and I look up from the camera, sealing it back up temporarily.
"How can I help?" I ask back as the sound of riot control hisses its smokey song. The loud, sucking noises, it's enough to make me frown. Seems the local police have started pulling out the airbag cannons. Both formats are being used.
The streets are either being sucked dry of air to disorient the rioters or all that backed-up wind is firing off. I suppose it's better those things than a vacuum popper cannon that's been crudely modified. Regardless, it's a noise I know to be wary of. The noise is distinct enough for me to give directions away.
"Sir, the streets, a lot of them are dark." the man warns and I follow his hand.
"Lights on, everyone, we'll be sticking to the back alleys while we can. Better than being out in the open streets." I explain to them as I kick aside some shattered glass and torn-off metal panelling.
"Remember, straight for Railman's View Tower!" one of the group reminds us and I glance up at the still-standing landmark. If the owners haven't left, I guess I will have some talking to do, otherwise, my foot is ready to go. It's only a restaurant anyhow, we shouldn't have issues accessing the top floor and the premium table area.
Putting my hand against a scraped-up wall, I gesture for the group to go ahead into the gap. Lingering my eyes on the back end on what could be a group of anything, I slip in after them. The ground starts to rumble and a fairly large airship, for a police one anyway, flies over. Our bodies light up as their searchlights jump the gap between the buildings.
Locking the camera up properly, I take advantage of the dark and linger my dominant hand near my barbur. Someone kicks a bin and spooks the group, the yelps are followed by nervous chuckles. Patting someone on their back to speed them up, we suddenly come to a halt. I find some rubbish to raise my height on.
"Sir, the road ahead, it's blocked!" my guy in front hisses and he kicks it a little to prove his point.
"By what?" I ask, unable to get a proper view with all these torches and lamps polluting the view.
"A police barricade by the looks of it, I can see more elsewhere too." he answers and I frown in thought. They must be making a point of locking down the means to flank their shield walls. Or, maybe, it's to keep the crowds trapped within their loaded sights.
"Can you see anyone from the city guard out there?" I make sure to ask as it's becoming a bit hard to tell what armour-made noises are closer. Some of it bangs so hard it sounds almost immediate while others are echoing from the other side of the city. I shine a light on the way we came just to be sure, what looks to be a little feline dashes out the way.
"I'm right on a back door!" someone from the middle goes, the sound of heavy bolting rattling to my ears.
"Mmmm..." I ponder, not sure how we might be able get that door open or down. If there's anyone beyond it, we're going to be seeing some blood, most of it on my payroll.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
"YOU BEST BE ON GOOD TERMS WITH UNDWOTE YOU DAMN FILTHY CREATURES!" a man roars from above suddenly, his gun cocking loudly. Ah, there we go...
"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" I call up, raising my hands and gesturing as clearly as I can.
"GET AWAY FROM MY SHOP! GET AWAY NOW!"
"D-Dad...?"
"STAY INSIDE BOY!" the father roars, his gun wasting a round just to remind us he has lethal means. The dust is still raining as my mouth opens up.
"It's alright, we're not here to loot or harm you! Look, see? Cameras, we're reporters from the printing agent down the road." I explain and it seems the man is lowering his gun.
"What's a bunch of tablet scribes doing in an alley in the dead of night!?" he demands to know.
"We're on our way to the Railman's View Tower, we're going to be taking pictures of the situation at the spiral-train station and the air docks." I explain and the nervous man seems to properly lower his guard. The metal bar flooring rattles and he vanishes out of sight only to be replaced by another armed man.
"Alright, through and out, no lingering." he says and while his thoughts are an enigma, I am glad they're turning in such a way as to benefit me.
"No one tries any funny business. Do as he says without any divergence." I explain to my group as the sound of forceful feet reaches the door. Metal slips up and slides harshly back into a socket. My guy closest to the door squeaks at the sight beyond the open frame and I have some sure bets as to what is going on. Everyone that follows is on guard, just like those inside.
"I ain't opening the front or pulling up the shutters, you lot can use the perron from the third floor." the shopkeep orders as I come in. Using the aid of their light, I straighten myself out and look around. This is a hardware store, one I am pretty sure I often send a runner to for the odd tool or ink refill. I can even see a copy of the newstablet with the government order on it, right from my presses.
A little girl clutches what must be her brother's leg and the young lag cocks his gun like his papa most likely showed him earlier this night. Raising my hand calmly, I reach into my pocket and pull out a packet of old mints. I quite like the tin, admittedly, but, it's nothing special. I pass the sweets on and regardless of their possible acquired taste, they calm down a little.
The shopkeep's hand grabs me with the strength he might apply to a petty thief, "Are you going to be able to put some sense into the government?"
"I can only try." I assure the man as he erratically gestures for some bloke to get the back door shut up again. Another little girl rushes to his leg and his focus fades so he can reassure her. I make a point of looking into the young girl's eyes, she can't possibly be older than four years.
"Listen, I can handle losing my shop. I can handle being forced to build a home from scrap and going a few nights without a crumb to eat but... But, I don't know what I'm going to do. I was so close to getting my little ones out of the city, not even with me, just them. They's got grandparents as far north as Erneherh that can take care of them. But... The city guard, they wouldn't even let children on board after a certain point. Any who might listen got removed from their posts and only the most heartless of bastards are there now."
I offer a little prayer that befuddles the man of wayward faith, "So long as Might can be found in the night sky, help will come. I will do my best, just focus on keeping your family safe. Help will come, remember."
The family man sighs and almost drops his gun, "First left once you are on the third floor."
I nod in thanks and watch him pick up his daughter. He bounces the crying child and he can barely keep himself contained. I pat the end of the stairs and hurry after my lot. Though the father gave me his seal of approval, the others upstairs are still on guard. A hand so much as goes near even a plate with only a bite on it and the guns are cocked.
"Come on everyone, out, let's go." I remind my lot and we quickly hear the window slam shut behind us. The bang of the perron below makes way for the tap of stone and we practically sprint the final distance. I catch a glance at the events closer to the docks. One step away from war.
"No one's home!" one of us at the front calls and I gesture for the door to be smashed open. It blends in with the noises coming from elsewhere in the city and we head up the stairs. Thankfully, this next one can just be opened by releasing the lock.
"Get the tables out the way or made proper use of, I want a good view of the docks ahead." I bark, whipping the lot into shape and what little is left outside by the restaurant workers is thrown indoors. Making my way through the gap to the glass-backed handrail, I pull my camera up. The lighting will take a minute to figure out, but, I can work with the current array of shots offered to me.
Bringing the lens to my eye, I improvise myself a spyglass and take a few quick snaps. I come to a stop and bring the camera down, it comes back to my eye. I catch a few more snaps, but, not of what I expected to find going on at the docks. It seems to be that all of the city guards have been called off of sentry duty and moved on to handling the riots.
The evacuations of the Ibenoroccons and their wealth are being handled by none other than foreign soldiers. The government has given free rein to troops from another country to handle this. I can't help but smirk and I take some more pictures just as one of these desert-dressed men smashes aside a young boy. Water magic starts to fire off at the crowd and it backs away, a few bodies of it no longer moving.
Corpses or not, I make sure to get a field of view which involves their dripping barrels and the motionless people. The others with me start to spend more time talking about what they're seeing than recording and capturing it. I do not make a point of interrupting the gossip, though, I want it to fester. Let it spread throughout our walls and then out into the streets as the few moments of peace we get these days are ruined.
I take a picture of a family being held at gunpoint, only a chainlink fence away. Beyond it, not even a trolley of injured or old Ibenoroccons, no, it's the contents of a bank or a company. One finger so much as touches that thin metal and what looks to be bayonets are thrust through the gaps. More flashes of gunfire and the screaming crowd reels.