A Universe for Aizia

Phase 2

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Well, three months later, and here it is! Phase 2. Fun, fun, fun!

I entirely lost interest in the plot of this story. It bored me to death.

But, by popular demand, I will finish the story. I guess.

Technically, though, only one person wanted me to finish this. I've got nothing better to do, so here it is!

Phase 2.

Even though I can't remember what this is about...

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PHASE 2:

"Aizia!" Muunand scolded.

Ugh. I'd drifted off into Markus-land again. Markus smiled kindly at me from across the makeshift table we had set up in the washroom. I tried to smile, but I couldn't feel my brain. His dark, messy hair shined faintly in the dim lighting...

"Aizia!" Muunand announced once again.

Right. Time to focus. Phase 2, here we come!

"Yes?" I snapped my eyes back to Muunand (and the sight wasn't nearly as pleasing).

Muunand, the control-freak of the group, was briefing us on our new tasks, and there was no joking around with him at the head of the table. A few years back, his parents had supposedly died from radiation poisoning. Muunand became convinced that their deaths were caused by Airship exhaust fumes. Since then, he had been determined to bring down the upper-class. So he shaved his head, built up his muscles, and gritted his teeth. A few of the younger rebels nicknamed him Mental Muunand, and sadly, it was the truth.

Albeit, no one crossed Muunand. He typically controlled our attacks, and unless you wanted to end up as bait, you didn't disobey him.

"Okay, down to business," Muunand continued. "The time has come to take down the Pigs," (our codename for the upper-class) "and we all know we ain't just gonna waltz into the captain's cabin, and he'll just willingly abandon ship! No, this requires stealth, skill, and preparation!" (here he spit across the table) "First, we will have three main divisions each responsible for a different task: group one, Raiza, Olini, Niva, Geof, Inioa; group two, Quinitix, Linaz, Fesun--"

"Muunand, chill out," Markus interrupted. "Listen. What really need to do is rush the control room all at once. Captain Zymun and his crew just sit around, twiddle their thumbs, and take naps! They'll never see it coming!"

Muunand looked uneasy.

"And how do you suppose we get to the control room? Charge down the halls? Don't you think they'd stop us by then?" he retorted.

"Well, we are clearly sufficiently armed," Markus replied with a playful smile and a gesture towards our mile-high pile of looted weapons barricading the door.

"I still don't think we'll ever make it like that. We should split into groups and approach from different angles," Muunand attempted at a compromise.

Markus laughed softly. Of course he intended on compromising. He always made sure to include Muunand's ideas. It made everyone's lives easier.

"I don't know, Muunand," he joked. "I was really looking forward to firing this gun..." He plucked a monstrous gun off of the pile and pretended to shoot the stall doors off their hinges. We all laughed dryly.

Somewhere far off, a bell sounded. Curfew. In a haste, everyone jumped from their chairs and collapsed the table. We stashed it in the usual supply closet in the corner of the bathroom. All of the guys abruptly fled (it was the girls' room and you didn't want to get caught in there, especially after curfew). On their way out the door, they each grabbed a weapon from the pile. Men and their guns.