SmackDown: Back to Our Roots

Round 1: Raindrops Rising - @minusfractions

The words were cheap, like his drink. Good for only for a little hit to keep you going. How many people had said them before? The speaker continued anyway.

"How do you think this was set up? By one person? By one group? No. By many. I am not the only one speaking in the city now. There are dozens of us. People helped us prepare. Others brought us safely here and will take us safely away. And you will carry the message on.

"You don't need to be a hero. It doesn't take a lot to be a part of a revolution. Well behaved people seldom make history, it's true, but we create a foundation on which the change can occur, and that's more important. It's the change they never see coming. And all it takes is something small, like driving someone to their soapbox or passing on a parcel."

In a world of nice ideas they were some of the more sensible, but sensible didn't stop the buzz of law enforcement approaching. As the crowds began to scatter, he heard the speaker say:

"I may disappear, but we will not."

It was a nice idea, it really was. The idea that you could be part of something greater, but why would this time be any different to the last dozen times? He held a certain kind of admiration for the people who could open themselves up to hope again and again only to have it shattered. What was that life like? Though he did wonder how many actually believed it and how many were just there for the show.

The square was finally clear and he crossed it. It was time to get back to reality. As if on cue, his phone buzzed with details of a new job, from a regular customer. Trevor didn't know what the so-called "Lady of the Depths" had to smuggle, but her orders alone almost kept him afloat. She was some kind of information broker, he knew that much. Did he want to know more? Probably not. Plausible deniability and all that. She's just some lady I deliver packages for, he could plead, if he ever needed to. The main disadvantage in working for her was having to pass through the wrecked, stinking excuse for a bar that she worked above.

Her rented rooms – he knew that no matter how she made them look it would not be her home – were a stark contrast to the rest of the place. Even from outside of the door he could smell the incense she used to try to cover up the stench, and in the dark corridor the door betrayed the disconcerting fuchsia pink glow that she chose to light the place with.

He rapped on the door and it was swiftly answered by the familiar, painstakingly perfect woman. She smiled and allowed him in. There were no hellos, no goodbyes, no small talk or pleasantries. This wasn't even business. It was a transaction that didn't exist. This whole thing was an illusion. A living room? No, it was a comfy office. Were the rest of the rooms even furnished, or was this all the illusion she cared to set up? He didn't know. Again, he wasn't sure he wanted to. Still, his mind always asked the questions, without ever really expecting an answer.

She picked up a package from a low coffee table, but as Trevor held his hand out for it, she did not give him it. It seemed she had other plans. She picked up a bottle of alcohol and a pair of glasses and began to pour.

"I saw you at the rally," she commented, offering him a drink. He declined it, as always. It didn't hurt to be careful, particularly after a question like that. Who knew which side she was on?

It all made Trevor weary. He didn't ask how she knew. The Lady of the Depths knew whatever she wished.

"This one, in particular, holds some interest to some potential employers if you're interested."

"Nah, Lady," he began nervously. He needed to be careful not to burn any bridges here. "I was there by coincidence. I'm not dirtying my hands with this. Pay is only worth something when you're alive to spend it. You couldn't pay me to do it."