Pearl POV

The low glow of the night air enveloped me like a gas. It crawled through my lungs, choking me like a familiar poison. The comfortably cursed sweet smelling smoke that lay in a blanket over a sleeping village. The windows watched me as I walked calmly through the streets, turning down insane routes until I reached the door of a run-down pub. To the unseeing eye, I was going for a drink, a merry Christmastime evening worthy of friendly company. But to those who know, those who listen rather than watch, this is no calm drinking session.

I was welcomed by the barkeep, a cheery fellow who was almost always polishing a glass, who's red face and muddy blonde hair made him welcoming to every single patron, though when he spoke to me, his tone was cold. "Dusk. You're almost late."

I nodded, pushing through into the back room. "Don't expect Crimson tonight. He's caught up at the shop. The academies just broke off."

The backroom was empty, bar a few crates and barrels. It was the floor that I needed, for, if I pushed aside a grey fur rug across the flags, a trapdoor would reveal itself. I pulled it open, the whiskery rope stabbing at my skin with blunt and rounded tiny knives. My feet barely found the rungs of the wooden ladder.

Cold stone walls, floors and a ceiling fashioned a small, dingy tunnel through which moss crawled on within the cracks of the bricks, water glittering on the ceiling and floor. It dripped down, landing and echoing in the dismal greenish light, cast by the neon lights that flickered as I made my way to the door at the end.

It was dark and brown, shining with the water. A soft golden handle, aged to bronze with use, looped around itself. It was weaved like a wreath, supple metal wrapping around itself into a beautiful curled ring, a wolf's head holding it in it's mouth. It was old. Really old. You cant find this around here nowadays.

I pushed it open, welcomed by candle light and the strong fumes of smoke. "Evening." I said, holding back the coughs in my chest. They threatened to come out. They all didn't care if I coughed, but I did, I can't show weakness.

"Dusk. Glad you could join us."

We all had names. Code names. We couldn't use our real names in case we were being heard. We all knew each other's real names, but there's always the risk of being seen, rather than just heard.

Fwhip's code name is Crimson. A testament both to his explosive nature and his blood-thirsty energy. Al was Nightingale. His sneakiness, silence, and secretly dangerous air was played in the name. Ex was Vienna. Taken from the old word nirvana, meaning peace and tranquillity, it highlights his way of opting for peace. He's the only one of our little gang of anarchists that take peace over anything else. Creed is Country because... why not.

Creed looked me up and down. "Where's Crimson?" He asked. His red and black mask was pulled over his mouth, protecting his looks from those who watch us, protecting his identity for us.

"Both academies broke off today. He's catching up with everyone." I said, pulling the black hoodie over my head. The hood cast my face in shadow, the bottom lifting up as a built-in mask. I saw Creed's eyes light up in unconcealed excitement, the soft hazel twinkling. "Sylvie and Cat and Indigo are back, yes." I smiled.

Al put his hand heavily down on the table, making the assembled jump. He looked annoyed, but determined. His boyfriend, Ex, looked exhausted, the bags under his eyes as dark as the shadows outside. "We're two men down tonight-" Al started, but Creed cut him off.

"We're only missing Crimson, though."

Al sighed. "I know. However, Vienna doesn't feel too good, so we can't have an ill man in the field." He said, laying an arm around Ex. "So, we're having a duo mission. Country, Dusk. You two are out in the field. Recon mission. Try to get into the tyrant's base, don't be seen. No risks, just record."

I nodded. "We taking weapons?"

Al chuckled. "Naturally. Nothing huge, though, you're in a civilian area. Be careful." He said coldly, before his face broke into a smile. He subconsciously held Ex tighter against his side. "Look after each other, you two."

Creed smiled, nodding. "Blessed be those who listen."

The group of us, all 4, smiled, chuckling. "Blessed be those who hear."

We walked out the door, grabbing our rifles. Another day, another duo.