The morning sun seeped through the warehouse windows with a pale light that glowed over the gathering Shadow Banner in the central room. Lanoir stands by the window, caught in the early light shone on her platinum locks as she read the report. Her expression was unyielding as she looks at the others.

"It's terrible," she said. "Every civilian near the pipeline was taken in for questioning. They're being accused of aiding terrorists—us.

The air became charged. Slythe's scaled fists clenched, and his voice rumbled like distant thunder. "We can't let them suffer for what we did. We have to break them out."

Myrda nodded, her stormy eyes flashing with anger. "They're innocent. Texxon is just making an example of them."

Panois leaned forward, his fingers tapping out a rhythmic beat on the table. "A coordinated strike could work. Hit the detention center, get them out before the corporations can spin their lies."

"No." Lanoir's voice cut through the room like a blade. "If we act now, we'll only make things worse. They'll see us coming, and those people will pay the price for our rashness."

Rickety clicked his mandibles thoughtfully, his compound eyes shimmering. "She's right. Texxon thrives on control. If we retaliate openly, it'll give them the excuse they need to escalate. We need another way."

Jun, who had been quiet until now, spoke up. "What if we lay low? Gather resources for legal aid or bribes? We could also use the time to scout and prepare for when the moment is right.".

Rickety turned to him, curious. "Not such a bad plan, that is. I could watch the CyberWeb; have access to the black market nets. It's not easy and it's a crap-shoot, but I do have experience finding holes in the wall," he said.

They were pondering on it when Panois set down breakfast dishes: black jelly, made from mana eels, sprinkled with scrambled eggs. Its faintly glowing texture was both eerie and captivating.

"Let's mull this over while we eat," Lanoir said, sitting down. "We need a scheme that keeps us low-visibility but lets us have eyes on Texxon and the Flying Squads."

By evening, the group had dispersed into the city, each member tasked with gathering information while blending into the crowd. Lanoir paired with Jun, a deliberate choice to teach him the subtleties of reconnaissance.

"Stay close," she told them as they wove through the market. "Listen more than you speak. People tell more than they know if you listen."

Jun nodded, his eyes scanning the crowd. The shadow snake lay loosely around his shoulders, its presence a constant reassurance. They moved effortlessly through the throng, listening in on bits of conversation and sensing the mood of the people.

In one corner of the market, a group of laborers huddled together, their voices low but heated.

"First the pipeline, now they're rounding up innocents," one man said, his face lined with worry. "How long before they come for the rest of us?"

"We need to fight back," another argued. "But how? They've got the Flying Squads, and we've got nothing."

Jun felt a pang of guilt but composed himself as he filed the information. Lanoir gave him a nod of approval as they continued on.

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Rickety stepped into the Beggar's Den, a broken-down enclaved suburb of the city ruled by scavengers and outcasts. Burning rubbish filled the air with acrid odors and narrow alleys had makeshift shelters.

He came upon a pair of figures huddled over the rusty barrel fire. Rewa, a wiry woman with a patchwork coat, looked up and grinned. "Well, if it isn't Rickety. Didn't think I'd see you back here."

"Rewa, Meyo," Rickety greeted them, his voice crackling like static. "I need information. What's the word on the street?

Meyo, a broad-shouldered man with a mechanical arm, shrugged. "Same as always. Texxon's tightening its grip, and people are scared. But there's talk of something big coming down the pipeline. Rumors about a new weapon."

Rickety's mandibles twitched. "Interesting. Keep your ears open. I'll make it worth your while."

Slythe chose the Can'o More, a bar everybody in town knew of only because it served only canned booze. The air was dimly lit with murmurs and clinks of metal on glass.

He leaned against the bar as if he owned the place. People gave him warry glances, yet the bartender, Edd, approached cautiously. "What'll it be, Slythe?"

"Just information," Slythe said, placing a coin on the counter. "What's been going around here?

Edd put the coin in his pocket and leaned in. "Not much good. Flying Squads have been circling around, but they're looking for something particular. Heard they've received orders to relocate equipment to a new facility outside of the city."

"Thanks," Slythe said, finishing his drink and out.

Myrda and Panois walked to the city's academy, an uncompromising brutalist structure that dominated the district. Officially, they were scholars, with papers clearing them to enter places usually restricted. Unofficially, they were spied.

Panois worked in the archives digging through files for leads as to Texxon's whereabouts. Myrda moved through the students, with quick wit and disarming charm coaxed out small pieces of rumor.

"They've been moving a lot of resources out of the city," one student confided. "Nobody knows where, but it's big."

Myrda told Panois all of this as they were leaving the academy. "Looks like Rickety's rumors were right," she said. "We need to find out what they're planning."

The team continued their undercover operations for months, piecing together the bigger picture. They watched Texxon and the Flying Squads, keeping an extremely low profile. Efforts unveiled growing discontent in the people, the whispers of rebellion simmering below the surface.

This time around, Jun is training further with the group and gets closer to his shadow snake. The animal's whispers are becoming very frequent now, and they sharpened his instincts so much.

One evening when they sat reviewing their results, Lanoir came up before the group to say, "The people are almost at breaking. We need to be all set when the time finally comes. Until then we keep gathering intel and make alliances."

Jun looked around the room. He had found his renewed sense of purpose. The Shadow Banner was more than just a team; it was a family, and its members were united against oppressors. And he was ready to play his part.