The heat had fallen as quickly as it had descended upon France and Western Europe. A change in the wind was enough, but it had caused significant storms in many regions.

While Paris and its surroundings were fairly spared, in other areas, they had caused major fires. Without the intervention of firefighters trained and equipped to control and extinguish them, these fires quickly grew massive, threatening towns. Fortunately, they were naturally smothered by heavy rains in the following days.

It had been raining almost non-stop for two days now. The first day was enough to fill all the water containers. Most of the time, it was a fine, sticky rain that formed an opaque veil in front of the eyes, but sometimes it turned into a heavy curtain falling on roofs and roads, turning gutters into torrents. The city's sewers struggled to drain all the water and overflowed in places, forming very large puddles where trash floated.

Few people dared to step outside in such dreadful weather. Karima, whose mood varied greatly with the weather, was feeling gloomy. Sitting nonchalantly on a cold metal desk positioned near a large secured window, she watched the sad spectacle outside.

The training ground was flooded, and everything looked gray. The grass, the trees, the sky, the gravel. Because the window was half open, fresh air circulated in the room. She found something comforting in the sound of the rain hammering on the glass and the roofs. She could also smell the rain and the storm. It was much more pleasant than the sewer smell that continually rose from the toilets despite the doors being closed and sealed with fabric.

"Madam," said a young woman in uniform at the entrance of the room, "you have a message."

Karima tore her gaze away from the window where water droplets glittered like crystal beads and looked at the young woman with a lifeless eye.

Her name is Anna, I think?

"Thank you, Anna."

She accepted the document and waited for the young guard to leave before reading it.

Anna was a volunteer. When the Civil Defense Guard was created, all volunteers were integrated and placed on an equal footing with gendarmes and police officers. Karima did not approve, but she quickly noticed that they were all at lower ranks. Few volunteers held positions of responsibility. They were used for patrols and protecting the premises. That was the case for this barely adult girl who certainly did not have the minimum requirements to join the national police or the gendarmerie. Her arms were so thin that Karima doubted she could neutralize the slightest threat.

Despite all her weaknesses, she wore a uniform very similar to the one Karima wore: a light blue blouse, navy blue pants, a pair of thick shoes, and a dark wooden baton at her belt.

Let's see... Ah, it's from him.

The volunteer, or rather the guard, they had sent into the lion's den had produced a report. It was the third in four days, which was terribly imprudent. He had been asked to communicate the important information he could obtain from Léo Marlin and his friends, but it should not compromise the mission.

Well, there's going to be a clandestine gathering tonight. He wasn't told where it is. Hmm, a shame.

Karima placed the document on her desk and silently watched the rain bead on the windowpane. She then saw a ghostly figure wrapped in a raincoat, pulling a wheelbarrow covered by a sheet. The man with the wheelbarrow disappeared behind a building.

If he had known where they were to meet, we could have arrested them all...

Her gaze fell on a toy hanging from a desk lamp whose bulb had blown out at the time of the blackout. It was a Playmobil dressed as a prisoner. She had hung it on the lamp by tying a noose around its neck.

With her fingertip, she gently pushed it to make it sway from side to side.

Really a shame.

(Clément's POV)

A bruised face stared back at Clément. His lower lip was split, and a large bruise covered his left cheek down to under his eye. It hurt whenever he tried to talk or eat.

Ah, they didn't hold back.

Bruises like the one on his face were scattered all over his body. No one could accuse him of not giving his all for this mission. If he had known he would be roughed up to attract the Council's enemies, he hadn't expected to be beaten this badly. He had almost blown his cover before the mission even started by begging his colleagues to stop. Luckily, he couldn't articulate a single sentence.

Hmm, I'll need at least a week to recover, he thought, looking at his bruised back in the mirror.

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He was currently in one of Léo's and his little band of parasites' hideouts. It could be called a squat. The apartment had been unoccupied for months. However, almost everything was still in place. When the owners left, they had abandoned the furniture and a mountain of belongings.

The past few days hadn't been too unpleasant. He slept in a cozy bed, had a roof over his head, and some reading material. He was left alone part of the day, and around noon, his new friends would join him to chat or play games. In the absence of video games, they played board games.

Clément didn't have a good opinion of these people. While others worked hard from morning to night to cultivate a small plot of land, they spent their time doing nothing productive. They would have all starved if they hadn't benefited from food aid. This food didn't fall from the sky; it was the result of other people's work, distributed by the Council they despised as much as the previous system.

For Clément, who had volunteered before joining the Civil Defense Guard, they were nothing but freeloading kids full of ingratitude. He had seen children five or ten years younger than them who were more mature! Like his little brother, for example. Although too young to serve in the guard, he participated and got his hands dirty for the well-being of the community.

"You spend more time in front of the mirror than my sister," a male voice said behind him.

Without even turning around, he could see who was talking. It was one of Léo's friends, a young man about sixteen or seventeen named Lancelot, a name he hated. He preferred to be called Lance, which sounded much more modern.

He was comfortably settled on a large couch that could seat four people, five if they squeezed. For now, there were only three of them in the apartment, including Clément and Lance. He was half-lying down, legs stretched out on a glass table, his girlfriend snuggled against him, trying to solve a Rubik's cube.

"Leave him alone, Lance. If you were in his place, you'd be doing the same thing, considering the state Léo brought him in."

"Yeah. Hey, Clém, come over here. Staring at yourself in the mirror won't make it heal faster."

Laura was using her boyfriend as a backrest and paid no attention to Clément when he sat on the couch. She was quite tall, almost as tall as Clément or Lance, but a head shorter than Léo. It wasn't that they were short, but that Léo was tall. Clément was certain he had played basketball before the blackout, but he hadn't asked since he wasn't interested in the answer.

All he had on his mind was his mission. Maybe he would receive a generous reward if he succeeded brilliantly. He had already memorized the names of all Léo's friends. However, Sub-lieutenant Ali wanted the leaders and organizers of the criminal meetings, not the small fry. He had to be patient and cautious until he got that information.

I hope they'll introduce me to the leaders of this group tonight.

Léo arrived a few minutes later, accompanied by his girlfriend, Morgane, and two other people, Anthony and his brother Kévin, twins who were mainly distinguishable by their hairstyles. One had hair as long as Léo's, while the other had it cut clumsily by a friend.

Morgane was much shorter than Léo. She had blonde hair and slightly droopy blue eyes. She could be considered pretty, but her way of speaking and behavior made her very unattractive. In some ways, she resembled Léo and his friends a lot.

Though one might be tempted to underestimate her, this seventeen-year-old girl had a strong influence over the group. It was apparently thanks to her that these young people found themselves involved in this affair.

To be part of their protest and revolutionary movement, one had to be introduced by a member. That was how this movement had grown so quickly. Morgane introduced Léo, who introduced Lance, who introduced Laura and Kévin, who in turn introduced his brother.

Clément had come to suspect that this group they were searching for was much larger than estimated.

"Tonight, don't say anything stupid. We're not exactly well-regarded because of our age. Most people see us as kids. Got it?" Morgane said in a threatening tone.

"Yes. Got it."

"Good," she nodded, though she didn't seem entirely reassured. "Whatever you do, don't talk to the ones wearing black armbands. They're nuts. And they're very influential. If they decide to go after you, no one will be able to save you. You'll think back on the cops and see them as angels in comparison."

"O-OK."

Clément had very little information about these people and what they did. He only knew what the sous-lieutenant had told him—that it was suspected some among them were survivors of an extremely dangerous criminal group—and what his new friends had told him over the past few days.

Apparently, they had started gathering long before the Council was formed. They didn't like seeing law enforcement restrict individual freedoms to the extreme, according to them under the pretext that it was chaos. From their point of view, the general and all those who followed him were using the dramatic situation the country was going through to seize power and impose their cruel and unjust laws on the people. They saw the organization of referendums as a farce to mask the theft of their right to vote, since now everything was "legitimately" decided by the Council. For them, there was no doubt that the Council was manipulated by General Giraud, whom they saw as a Napoleon Bonaparte.

More than ever, revolution seemed the only escape from tyranny.

Clément had a hard time keeping silent in the face of these shameful accusations. If their society was still standing, it was thanks to them, the law enforcement and volunteers. Without the general's help, each neighborhood would be independent and rival territories. Wars between neighborhoods would probably have broken out without his intervention.

In reality, it was more likely that by now Nanterre, Puteaux, and all the nearby towns would have turned into ghost towns. If they hadn't all fled or starved to death, it was thanks to General Giraud!

Accusing him of seizing power was like spitting in the warm hand that just offered you a piece of bread when you were starving, right after you grabbed and ate it.

Clément's opinion of these young people his age could hardly be lower. Hiding his feelings was difficult. He wasn't sure, but it seemed Morgane was suspicious of him. She had been quite hostile towards him since his arrival. She had reprimanded Léo for bringing and introducing him to the group without her permission.

If Léo hadn't defended him as he did, she certainly wouldn't have allowed him to stay, much less attend the meeting that was to take place that evening.

"Well, we've got time before the meeting. Wanna play a game?"

Everyone turned to Anthony, who had picked up a small rectangular box. Everyone sighed in lamentation upon seeing it was Uno. He had a huge smile on his face because he loved the game. The main reason was that he almost always won.

They spend their time playing… Meanwhile, others are working themselves to death. When this is all over, I'll ask the captain to work you to exhaustion! Fuckin parasites!