She smelt like steel and cheap shampoo, sitting on the edge of her bed in the dark, getting ready for the sunrise and thinking. The room had no windows, no vents, just a crooked wooden door that led into a hall of the Underground. She was part of the federation. She was part of the Revolution. And today was her fourth mission, to be on the front lines for a recruit mission. There were 100 rooms in the Underground and a grand total of five were occupied since the last mission.
It had been an attempt on Tirette Millholme's life. One man was captured. 94 slaughtered due to his loose will and big mouth. He was still alive somewhere, a traitor who'd set back the Revolution way too far. And put Vhey Valentine back on recruiter duty. She wasn't pleased.
With a breath of the stale air, the woman ran a hand back through lengthy, pale locks of hair, green eyes weary but alert. With the snap of a cartridge into her handgun she was standing, and walking out of the little bedroom, down a hallway and passed small stone room with a pedestal, the Revolution's reasoning engraved there years ago, when their efforts first began.
She was coming above ground in an alley, slipping passed garbage cans and wrinkling her nose against the pungent odor of tomcat.