Pages and Pictures

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Fear and Hope

"Robert...where'd you find it? They're banned everywhere East of The Line!" Exclaimed Isiah Hawkfield, a clever, shy man of 25 whose electric blue eyes shone with excitement, looking down at the object sitting on the table in front of him. The object had a black rectangular body, with a dial on the top right. The dial has a button in the center that, when compressed, creates a clicking noise. One side has a cylinder with a glass lens sticking out of the rectangle. On the opposite side was a screen, with many numbers and symbols on it.

"Being part of the Guard has it's perks." Is the answer of Robert Zappata, a smug 19-year-old with sandy hair and emerald eyes. Isiah shook his head, his long black hair mimicking his motions almost humorously. But what was before them was no laughing matter, despite Isiah's growing smirk.

"This is a serious violation of the laws that bind the Homeland together. As a member of the Supreme Guard, you could be discharged and executed for your crimes." Isiah states. Robert and Isiah's eyes meet, and, for a mere second, silence settles over the room like a blanket. The silence is then shattered by their sudden, boisterous laughter.

"Robert, you never cease to amaze me. A camera? No one's seen one of these since the Wiltcreek Riots! That was before you were even born!" Isiah exclaims, but Robert's brow furrows.

"Yeah, only a year, so don't start with the high and mighty act. Besides, my uncle was stationed there when it happened!" Robert protests jokingly.

What exactly were the Wiltcreek Riots? They were the last of a series of rebellions over the art ban. It was followed with a photography ban, since photos were being used as propaganda. The events that transpired at Wiltcreek inspired the whole rebellion to go underground. The rebellion, you ask? The Rebellion of the Arts, they call it. An undercover population of rebels with collections of everything they've banned: Paintings, Drawings, Music, Books, and Photgraphy. They are the only chance of art ever returning.

"Well, I think I can top a camera." Isiah comments, placing his olive satchel on the aged oak table. Robert snickers.

"I'd like to see you try," he comments, but his words die off once he sees the leather rectangles laying on the table. Isiah smirks, seeing Robert's dumbfounded face.

"Books. I found some classics," Isaiah explains. Robert stumbles for words.

"Jules Verne...Charles Dickens...oh. Oh my. You found copies? How?!? These are impossible to get now! They've all been burned!" Robert exclaims as Isiah smiles and holds up his proudest find: Two very thick books, one with a green leather cover and the other with a blood red cover. One with gold trim pages and one with black trim pages. Grimm's Fairy Tales and The Complete Edgar Allen Poe. The rarity of these two books alone made them more valuable than their weight in diamonds on the Black Market.

"Not all. I found them during a raid on a supply train running from Pandora to Central City." Isiah boasts, tapping their covers. Robert nods, shrouding his amazement.

"Have you heard Dr. Sleep's theory on why these are so rare?"

"You know I don't listen to his broadcasts. He's a loon!" Isiah shivers.

Doctor Sleep was a rebel radio broadcaster who spun out theories on how the Highers' minds worked weekly. He was secretive and slightly insane, a mysterious outcast whom no one had ever actually seen.

"Well, his theory is that they hold weapons." Robert said. Isiah sighed.

"Told you, he's a loon. That doesn't even make sense!" Isiah scolds.

"Izzy doesn't seem to think so. She's rather interested in him. Haven't you two wrote recently?" Robert asks.

"No, my sister and I haven't talked in a while." Isiah shrugs. Robert frowns, looking at the floor. This gesture is answered by a cheeky grin from Isiah, which is then answered with the click of a gun, pointed at Isiah's temple. Isiah stands still for a minute, until, with a sudden jerk of his hand, a cavalier's sword and a throwing knife press across either side of Robert's neck. The two share a tense glance before laughing hard, releasing their weapons and packing their stuff back up.

"C'mon, the others are waiting for us in Wonderland."

The moonlight shines, sliding like a liquid over the Defender's tinted visor.

"Confirm, Base Six. The suspects are leaving now....Affirmative, I will follow them." With that, the black armored man crept after them through the night.