The Tempest
It had been months since the last time anything big had happened in the City. The Sniper patrols had increased since the last Lyons Riot, and it seemed that the rebels had gone to ground. There was still the odd altercation, the random screen breaking or parts going missing.
But it was nothing out of the ordinary. The powers that be chalked it up to the usual rebel movement which they had accounted for. Frustrating as it was, it was the reality of their situation.
Hands ran across the countless dials and knobs on a console. The air stunk of ozone, with two Snipers laying smoking on the floor. Twenty stories above the city, two troublemakers looked at each other and nodded. One slipped on a pair of headphones and grinned, his cocky attitude infecting the airwaves. Heath flashed a thumbs up at his cohort before he leaned in towards the microphone on the console.
"Gooooooood evening Vietnam!" Heath shouted into the microphone, his voice heavily altered by a modulator. "As you can tell we are broadcasting from everywhere. Yes, everywhere! From Wily's personal toilet to the Loyalist's most secure bunker, we are loud and we are here to stay!"
"The screens are off, the Masters' eyes are closed. We're here to show you that they aren't invincible. They don't have control. The wheels of this city are spinning out of control and we're here to hold them still. You already know they don't keep you safe. You know they steal your hope.
Heath grinned, grabbing the microphone with both hands. "There's a devil in the machine and we're here to exploit it. To break it. We're going to bring back the light. We're going to light up this night."
