Opus Veda

They passed a fire exit into a night club - the kind that existed before their time, before date became hookup and hookup became match.

This one was in disrepair, and seemingly vacant. They followed a light source into a cloak room and changed into uniform.

When they finished, a terrorist with daggered eyes appeared and silently ushered them downstairs.

They heard shuffling crowds and hushed conversations. Kasia entered the scene in with a rush of excitement.

Hundreds of insurgents congregated, each one masked and hooded. Around the island bar a group with blocky iron faces scrutinised weapons. In VIP booths, Medical Quarter eyed all from behind their plague doctor's visages. Surveillance operatives roamed too, their eyes pouring data and images.

Armoury, Medical, Surveillance - the support quarters Kasia had come to know. But most here worked for Insurgency, the fighting wing. Her wing. They occupied rows of seats and appeared relaxed.

It made Kasia aware of her ignorance. The fool she had been for joining the revolution when Opus Veda had this hidden underneath.

She joined her section's seating row. Maqbool and Sima Ren made room for her to pass. The backup team were with them; Kasia recognised Kristoff and Tanya. Their own leader - Andrez's subcommander - was studying Kasia intently. She waved and got an authoritative nod back.

The lights dimmed. The chatter died. Andrez appeared onstage as a screen behind loaded.

"In two hours time General Enver Byron will reach London. 30 thousand soldiers march behind him. If they win, the war will continue for years. Millions will be dragged in. And the Xīn Hán will prepare for repercussions in which we all will be found guilty.

Revolution Britannia claims it's a force for public good. You have done enough this year to show otherwise. It is no better than the republic, it's simply had less time to play its full hand.

Thanks to our actions they've one base remaining in this city, from which they aim to threaten Westminster's heart as their army arrives.

We will deal with them first. We go to Kensington Palace."

A model of the palace appeared on screen. Red and black figures formed up. Tooth-shaped barricades pulsed yellow.

"The revolution erected a perimeter around Hyde Park to prevent vehicles getting close. Any attacker will need to cross the grounds on foot. We will bear the brunt of their firepower as we do so."

White arrows traversed the map. Andrez pointed to the mechanics in the island bar.

"Armoury will cover us with a strike against the palace exterior. Insurgency's fire teams will screen the windows. For those sections at the front, each will have an access point to breach. Inside, we clear room by room, converging on the top floor's command centre."

The on screen units progressed on. Andrez paused for section leaders to take note. Kasia saw these seniors nodding slowly.

"A thousand soldiers wait inside. Poorly equipped but energised by their general's imminent arrival. The bigger threat is the First Division marines - a platoon of 15, hand picked and well prepared. If you see them, fall back into other rooms and confront them only when opportunity presents itself. You will need your wits against them.

Surveillance will continue to brief us on the journey. As always: read, rehearse, and call in questions before we arrive. My old family in Medical have opted to join us and provide assistance. Given your recent track record, I'll wager they aren't needed."

A subtle cheer rippled over the audience. The screen switched off.

"Vigilantes. The story of the 80's will be written by the victors of tonight. We would have had better lives, in a society that wasn't our own. Let us enter the 90's not as terrorists, but freedom fighters. They call us villains today, but never forget: all Opus Veda does is show the world its own shame."

The crowd stood, pulling their hoods down and bowing their heads. Andrez returned the gesture. His fingers trembled. His chest ached. Remorse burned for those he loved. Everyone in this room had lived through hell, and for all that, were about to follow him into a deathtrap they didn't deserve.

Tears pattered against his mask's lenses.

The terrorists began arming.

An engineer presented Kristoff with his rifle. Kristoff drilled each mechanism, hammering the bolt and eyeing through the scope. A mechanic issued him a handful of 5 rounds - all he had to survive the night. Kristoff thanked them all the same; he knew Armoury lost their own to obtain even this much. He wouldn't waste a shot.

He joined Luis and Mike.

"Gentlemen."

"Kristoff, is it?" Mike twitched Kristoff's mask. Kristoff nodded at the crossbow on Mike's back.

"What you gonna do with that then? I didn't realise we were heading to Agincourt?"

"It's on firework duty. Gives the Red's something pretty to look at before they shoot us all," he pointed a lumpy iron bolt over Kristoff's shoulder, "the girls and I are going up front with it."

"Girls!? Are you leavin' me on the back line with Luis!? Even you Tanya?"

"Sorry Kristoff…"

"Yea, Kris I need to borrow you mate…" Luis pulled him aside. He took a photo from his pocket.

"I didn't want to hand this over when we were training, you'd get all agitated and lose your focus. I got this from your house before you blew me up in that gunpowder plot."

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Kristoff held it. Dusty, but visible: the last image of him and his cancered sister before he fell into a Vedic life.

He held her to his mouthpiece.

"I didn't think I'd see this again boss…"

"You've done her proud a hundred times buddy. Five bullets…" Luis held Kristoff's head, "make her proud five more times yea?"

Kristoff recovered himself, "her, and all of you."

Luis pulled his team in.

"I wanna see more of you next year, my Family. Come out of this intact will you?"

They huddled in, together for once, though perhaps only for this moment.

Andrez strolled past.

"B-team. Our chariot awaits."

Kasia clambered into the van with Esmé and Sima Ren. Maqbool sat up front, resting his arm on the steering wheel and whistling Stormy Weather. A multitude of vehicles queued around them, each with their own route to follow and personnel to deliver.

Kasia gripped the handle above her. Adrenaline shredded her insides. Weapons jutted from her waist and her shield balanced on her arm. Two tasers slept on her wrist - the only shots she had to fight at range.

Andrez climbed aboard with the B-team.

The door closed. An armoured fist knocked twice. Maqbool started the engine.

They ventured to make war.

Ten friends swayed through the streets of London. Kasia's mind wandered to Eva and Sermon, Leah and Luca, Imany. What would Imany think of her today? Perhaps she would tut, but secretly approve; her passive, daughterly neighbour had stepped up and fought back.

The vehicles filtered apart and shrouded in traffic. Each section watched projections of their assigned path.

Maqbool shouted 'ten minutes'. Andrez dismissed the screen and gave everyone time to themselves. Kasia observed each of them, how they prepared for the end in their own ways. Andrez's subcommander looked up in thought. The shooter opposite fiddled with something in her hand until he noticed and patted his own heart. Tanya twitched beside them, stopping when Kristoff wrapped his arm around her.

Sima Ren and Esmé stood opposite Kasia. The former whispered in mandarin to himself. Kasia understood one word: Bàba. He was praying to his father. Esmé was staring through the windshield; her chest rising and falling as she wrestled fear.

Kasia gripped her weapon. These people weren't terrorists, they were more human than anyone, and every one of them looked terrified. Something replaced her adrenaline. Sadness. Some of them - perhaps all of them - were about to die. She didn't want to lose a single one. Her life mattered less to her than theirs.

Andrez nudged her.

"Excited?"

Kasia offered a feeble nod to the famous doctor looming over her.

"You may see your old captain when we get inside," said Andrez, "I hope you'll give him more than a handshake this time-"

Maqbool called '3 minutes'. The van hit a pothole. In one swoop Kasia became scared. She veered sideways. Andrez held the side of her mask.

"My love… this will be the easiest fight you've ever had and it will pass in an instant. Remember: if you weren't capable of it, I wouldn't have invited you. You're with us because you're good at this."

Kasia felt his hand trembling. He saw her notice.

"Every time, Katarzyna. All of us… we suffer so others don't have to."

"Andrez..." B-team's leader pulled himself forward, "since time is short I might break tradition and reveal myself to our newest fifth, if you don't mind."

"Feel free old friend. Give Katarzyna a fright before we even arrive."

The man grabbed Kasia for balance and removed his disguise. She saw a lean face, blonde hair, an icy grin.

Detective Luis Schulz.

Kasia went dumb. He laughed and shook her.

"I saw a dark horse when we first met but I never imagined seeing you here. It makes sense; after all the shit you've been through I wanted to show my face before the showdown.

Listen girl: I failed you and your neighbours. Being undercover held me back and I despised every second of it. At least let me tell you how sorry I feel. I regret it. And for what it's worth, I made damn well sure your mother will never see Eva."

Kasia grabbed him.

"My daughter! Is she-"

"Don't think about her!" Luis prodded her weapons, "you think about these, and where they ought to enter. Now… you've done off one Nazi and two millionaires. Will you give us another performance?"

"I will sir. Luis…"

The van accelerated. Maqbool shouted over its engine.

"60 seconds we're in sight!"

"I'll see you in the fight dear Kasia…" Luis clambered back to his spot and remasked.

The van broke hard and cut out. Everyone faced the exit and crouched forward. Andrez and Luis held their ears as Surveillance whispered.

"The call's going out," said Andrez, "this is it now. Good luck everyone."

* * *

Varma paced around the command centre. Their northern host was closing in; the police in London collapsed with desertions. All his regiment needed was the signal to advance.

But something agitated him. The police around Hyde Park had fallen back in good order, as if instructed. They were supposed to contain Kensington. They were supposed to be Varma's first engagement.

It made no sense at this time.

The power faltered out. Emergency generators rumbled online. The regiment searched for answers.

Varma's heart sank. He closed his eyes and waited for the despairing wail.

And so it came; the cry of the Veda, an occult choir louder than ever.

A sentry ran inside.

"Captain! The Blacks are here they're at the barricade!"

Varma checked the cameras. Offline.

"How many did you see?"

"Hundreds sir, but we can't see far the whole of London's dark. The siren, it's calling from the whole city."

Varma counted to five, allowing himself to breath and doubt, to permit his fear before duty demanded it be expelled.

"Infantry!"

He opened his eyes and drew his weapons.

"To arms!"

Alarms filled the palace. Officers barked commands and lines of fervour. The regiment took defensive positions - those with guns on firing ports, those without guarding the entryways. The marines lit their lucky smokes and held by the command centre, benching themselves until the counter attack was needed; when Second Division broke.

Guardsmen piled into the palace's main hall. Sermon's squad vanished in the disarray; the crowd squeezed Curtis and Zenia from him. Sermon knew nobody and saw a hundred Lucas. All his training had been for an offensive, a thing he had prepared his skills and nerves for.

This was the unknown. Nobody looked prepared.

His teeth rattled together.

* * *

Kasia raised her shield. She wanted a moment with Esmé but Esmé was focussed on the ground, kneeling like an athlete before a race.

The section inched forward.

The doors opened.

Opus Veda spilled through Hyde Park's perimeter. Fire teams formed a shooting line. Kasia planted herself behind Maqbool. The palace confronted her like the jaws of hell, an immovable edifice massive and far away, alive with alarms and shouting.

Andrez walked ahead of the line and traversed one side to the other. Esmé swaggered behind him, her hands resting on the two knives sheathed on her hips.

They stopped and faced the palace. Andrez chopped two fingers at it.

Armoury launched their salvo. Moaning rockets barraged over the insurgents so close to their heads they ducked from the heat.

The salvo thundered against the palace. Shouts became screams. The air stank with kerosene.

Andrez swung his blade out - a serrated column in ebony - and held it aloft. Tasers on his arms activated blue. He began a steady walk.

Opus Veda moved with him as one.

They cleared the barriers and broke into a run.

And as the first gunshots rang out, they charged.