“I saw you took out the factory. Good job. They'll have trouble making any more weapons without that.”
“You say that, but Nine got away, and they aren't exactly the kind to stop just from something like this.”
“You don't say. We'll have to step things up, then. Do you know where he is now?”
“Last operative to lay eyes on him was based in the Anarchist Commune.”
“There? Shit. We'll need to move carefully, or we're going to end up on the wrong side of an angry Fire Blanket. Can you get a message to our operative? What about supplies?”
“The first shouldn't be too hard. Might need to get creative for the second, or people are going to get suspicious. We can do it, though.”
“Then give me a moment.”
For a time, there is only the scribbling of a pen.
“There, get that to them for now. And see if we can get a few more on the inside. This is going to take a lot longer than I first thought.”
“The the first graveyard of Monument itself is simple but it contains one of the most striking pieces of architecture in the City. Though not one twentieth of the height of our skyscrapers, this gravestone still towers above the others in the yard, at about six foot high. It is the shape of a jagged shard and dark red, with the now infamous 'Team Red' tattoos curving all the way up the sides, creating complex and beautiful patterns.
“Though many have argued the design is too garrish and not in keeping with the rest of the graveyard, others have said that a gravestone should be judged as a reflection of a person and it has been agreed that this dramatic and sharp affair, dividing citizens, is a perfect mirror of the woman it is dedicated to. Perhaps that is what all architecture should do.”
-Architecture and Architects: A History of Early Architectural Trends
It's not exactly an extravagant home, lit only by a single lamp and the faint evening glow coming through the window. Still, it is home for the two young women who live there. Right now, they are sprawled lazily on their bedspreads, both nursing drinks.
There aren't many who know the truth of what happened to Captain Ferrill, why they disappeared so long ago, to be replaced by the then unknown Dawn. But while those sisters do not know the whole truth, they know more than most.
“I saw them today, you know.” The elder speaks, and the younger does not need to ask to whom she's referring.
“Really!? How were they?”
A sad shake of the head. “I didn't stop to say hello. They were at the graveyard.”
The younger gains a dawning look of realisation. “Visiting those two?”
“Yeah,” she sighs, “I know you weren't really with us back then, but they really did love them both. But now…”
The two are silent for a while, the younger not really knowing what to say while the elder recalls the time Captain learned of Matteo's arrest and demise. She's glad her younger sister can't remember it.
“I miss them, you know. I know you didn't know them, well, but…”
“No. I may not remember much, but I miss them too all the same.”
“Still,” the elder pauses to finish her drink, “life goes on, huh? For them and for us. We'll all keep going. With or without us, they're going to do great things. So let's get on with our own lives. You with me, Caution?”
A soft smile. “Always.”