Headlines

Signals

Amanda lurched towards the small table and the radio it held, fate had seen  fit to lead her to this room, to grant her the tools required to blow this conspiracy out in the open. To dominate the headlines. She pulled the knife from the solid wood, allowing the sheaf of documents to fall freely around the desk, the sheer force of the removal sending them floating through the damp air. She snatched one as it flew past her, curiosity taking the reins. Lines of black-typed letters spelled out transportation logs, grim records of where the vast amounts of metal and raw rock had been shipped. Ten tonnes of raw iron ore to Contingent supply base R40, delivery time 14:00, truck convoy. 15 tonnes of unrefined copper to Manyvale drop point YYZ, delivery time 23:00, military police transport. The list of transportation logs went on and on, making things even clearer to Amanda. This was how Denton had evaded war. They had been mining metal and rock, and selling to each side in exchange for protection. Everything stood before her, clear as crystal. The reason that the operation was hidden became even more apparent, Denton didn't want either side realizing that they weren't the sole recipients of the mining resources. If this got out, the Prime Minister's reign was certainly over. And, after all that she had seen here, that was certainly desirable. A raucous roar from beyond the room snapped her out of these thoughts. This was followed by the heavy footfalls of booted feet upon cold stone, and the occasionally bark of gunfire. She had to get to work, and she had to do it fast. 

She quickly pulled on the gunmetal gray headset and twisted the radio's knobs desperately, searching for the setting that would set the old machine to broadcast on every frequency it could. Eventually, it gave a click and opened up to the swarms of voices and words beyond the convict carved caverns. She cleared her throat, and the work began. "Attention, attention! I don't have much time, but there is something that you must know. Whoever you are please, listen! This is vital! Denton has lied to you, to all of you!" Screams echoed outside the room, followed by the ever approaching thunderous steps of the soldiers. Her time was slipping away. "The war hasn't passed our city by out of sheer chance or good will, no! Both sides were paid off, persuaded to turn a blind eye to our fair city as long as they received a stead flow of metal. And where could Denton find such a workforce to gather this metal? Where did they secure the means to influence not one -- but two great nations? Convicts. Convict labor bolstered by that of your friends and family, fellow citizens spirited off into the night to break their backs alongside criminals." 

Another sound interrupted her. She spun in her seat, catching a glimpse of the heating metal of the locked door. The soldiers were coming. But here conviction to the truth ran deep, surging through her veins instead of blood. She turned back to the radio. No matter the circumstances, this broadcast would finish.  "I urge you, fair citizens of Denton, to not let this pass quietly into the night. Stand up for your fellows, stand up for a city in which all are free, stand against the tyranny of Prime Minister Holden! Protest, riot, rebel! Take to the streets to defend your morals, those that are always on the cusp of sliding into oblivion in wartime! Show the world that the citizens of Denton will always do that which is right, and that the Prime Minister's actions do not speak for ours!" The door fell inwards, kicked by booted feet. She only had time for one quick goodbye before the rifles discharged upon her, bringing the airwaves to a dead silence. Of this she was certain.  "Denton, I wish you the best, the best of luck in yo--" Gloved hands yanked her from her chair, her podium of truth. They pressed down upon her neck, intent on strangling the traitorous voice. But even they couldn't change what had been done, the world knew. The city knew. The people knew the truth. She was certain she hadn't underestimated the raw power of the vox populi, a majority could topple mountains, could stop the stars from shining, and could certainly break the reign of one man. 

As her vision began to fade away to black, she remembered the heavy, cold weight of the knife she held clutched to her chest. Odd, that. Her only hope of retaliation remembered mere moments before her breath stopped forevermore. In a brief moment she was swallowed by the will to survive, to not let the mine become her grave. In this second, she plunged the thirsty blade deep into the side of the armored figure choking her. It slid in deep, the man giving a small gasp of pain and surprise as the knife dived through the small gap between the back armor and the front before burying itself in yielding flesh. She slid out of the choke hold and delivered a swift punch to the man's head, pulling her combat knife free as she went. He fell upon the dirty floor, spilling blood and taking in quick breaths, his eyes fluttering open and closed in pain. He was a fairly young man, aged about 20 years. His face would have been  handsome, were it not for the ugly red mar of blood leaking from his broken nose. His radio was twittering away in a small voice on the floor where it had fallen. "Alan? Alan what's going on? Do you need backup, repeat, do you require assistance?" Amanda looked at his wound once more. It was fairly deep and would definitely become  infected if he didn't revise medical attention or die of blood loss. She picked up the radio. "Yes, Alan needs a medic." Amanda dropped the radio and sprinted out of the room. The small tunnel was filled with the smell of fresh blood and that of melted metal. A few bodies lay about the floor, riddled with red holes. She paid them no mind, picked a direction, and ran.

As she sprinted through the damp tunnels -- desperately gazing about for an exit -- she hoped that her message had gotten through. That was all there was left to do, hope that the people had heard the truth. But what if nobody was listening? What if all of her efforts were for naught? What would she do if she found out that Kory had died in vain? Doubts plagued her mind, swarming about like flies. No. She couldn't -- wouldn't -- accept that as truth until she saw it with her own eyes. She turned a corner, stopping dead and giving a small smile as she spied what she had been searching for. This tunnel ended in a tall steel stairwell. Her way out.