Opus Veda

Few things said 'English decline' like the British Museum. The government had no money to remove it and so it haunted London; a liminal mausoleum. Its contents had been sold in past recessions; some handed to old colonies by the final progressives.

Either way, the contents found their way to private collectors, and to the 99%, vanished.

One group still explored its vast and vacant halls. They sauntered through unknown doors, meeting and scheming in their own private club. So presumptive was their claim they stooped to wearing ordinary clothes, unmasked.

Kristoff had been summoned in a few times. His Goldsmiths placement started here. He'd trained to shoot too, in the basement galleries.

And whenever he visited he felt eery, hearing only his footsteps. There were more Vedics here than anywhere, yet he could walk from one side of the museum to the other and see none of them.

"K-"

He flinched and spun.

"Kristoff…" Tanya hopped off an exhibit stand and waved. He composed himself and strolled towards her.

"Tanya! How's things?"

She looked down and rubbed her arms. Kristoff patted them.

"Is everyone here?"

"Luis… and Mike. They're- they're talking about politics again."

"Christ already…" Kristoff muttered under his breath, "we'd better join them before they get too into it."

"I shouldn't sound overconfident but surely Sung will win the north. It's taking the Reds too long to clear the A1."

"He could retake the north but if London falls first it won't matter. Polling already gives Reds a landslide. If they take Parliament out that'll be that."

"Yes but there wouldn't be a revolution if their northern stronghold fell. London's strength is in soft power and that's all online. This city's less of a trophy than everyone claims."

"Red sentiment will remain, and there are three men able to run it. Four if they get Sung to convert, which if they take London, they might."

"Don't even suggest it…" Mike sipped his beer and winced, "you always end up being right about these things."

Luis toasted himself. Mike refused to partake. They were in a seminar room, allocated by Surveillance Quarter - the mind, eyes, and spine of Opus Veda. Five cans of lager had greeted them - one for each section member. Four beers had gone as the leaders caught up; Luis, Andrez's second in command, and Mike, his third.

And as Luis exploited his police background, Mike stayed with business and finance. Both twisted their careers to Opus Veda's gain. Both fought together when the contract demanded it.

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"Bossman!"

The remaining section member approached.

"Kris!" Luis slammed the table, "fuck it's been a long time."

"Here I am!" Kristoff swaggered inside, cocky and upbeat. He grabbed the final beer, sighed at the four empty ones, and gave it to Tanya. They took seats.

"Tanya says you're chatting politics. How typical of Opus Veda's boldest centrists."

"We were wondering who'll win the north, Sung or Byron," Mike pulled a Bacardi out and rolled it across the table. Kristoff caught it and winked.

"Byron would win in a straight match, probably why Sung's delayin'. But if you're back Luis, the war's comin' to London no?"

"That's unfortunately what I'm here to discuss."

Kristoff pointed to the only empty chair, "where's fifth-element then?"

"Can't get to ground. I hear Andrez's found his fifth too. What they like?"

"Met her earlier," Kristoff pinged his drink open, "ex-revolution girl. Had brief success but ended up murdering some rich boy. She's scrappy, but messed up."

"Sounds unhealthy. Hope she doesn't create a scene…" Luis finished his beer and sighed, "we need to get started. First item of business: Kristoff?"

"Yea what?"

Luis slapped a photo down. From its blurry surface Kristoff smiled - the smile England had seen behind burning Goldsmiths. The exposure Opus Veda did not need.

Kristoff bared his teeth.

"Boss it's been contained already."

"Yes and you nearly blew my dear Gemma up doing so. Our first breach this year and it's not only in our section, but my half of it."

"Take it up with Andrez then!? We've been stuck with his social media addiction for months. It's like workin' for a fuckin' ten year old girl."

"It was a bit of a fumble mate," Mike chipped in, ever ready with the Veda's mantras, "always operate as if there is at least one camera on you. Even I nearly got exposed."

"What, slitherin' you way around them munters at the maid cafe?"

"Someone kept trying to access my account. It had to be one of the maids based on the timing of the hacks, and, well…" Mike shrugged, faux modesty masking his glee, "I've hooked up with enough maids to know the dry one's the spy."

Gears whirred in Kristoff's head. He weighed his miserable time with the vagrants against Mike's cowboy accountancy gig.

He turned to Luis with an outraged look.

"I was stuck. Underground. With those vagrants. For weeks. I had to watch the bastards eat fuckin' seagulls. When do I get a maid cafe!?"

"We all contribute the best way we can. I don't like being stuck in a police station either! Watching you lot romp around and have all the fun..." Luis wagged his finger, "and to be honest Kristoff I'm not sure I'd trust you in more civilised settings right now."

"What's the matter? You worried I'm gonna turn up in fuckin' blackface or summat!?"

"Kris-"

"Well detective meesa normally have de mask on!"

"Mate…"

"Tanya can't string a sentence together without callin' someone a prick-"

"Which is why she doesn't get placements."

"Take me off placements then!?"

"Kristoff!" Luis pounded the table. He missed his team often. It wore off quick.

Tanya sniffed.

"You're both pricks…"

Luis closed his eyes. His head cocked. He inhaled through nose.

"Both of you... trust me: the next contract is big. Big enough to make history. We will have better innings come 2090."

Kristoff downed his Bacardi and growled.

"What contract."

"Revolution's attacking London on Christmas day. A full division's strength. We're getting in first and starting the war before them.

What they don't know yet, is we've got a division too."