A budding writer with a bunch of ingenious rebels risk their lives to try and overthrow an oppressive government to earn back their liberty of expression. They need to unify and put aside their differences, interests and pasts, and race against time...
"I mean how ready are you to defy the government and act against the law — be an anti-national."
"I don't. I'm a law-abiding..."
"Rubbish!" Arya cut her off, "Don't you want back the right of free and uncensored speech? Don't you want the world to have the freedom of expression and the right to pursue their passions without being judged...?"
"And thrown into a God-forsaken malfunctioned cloud," Alizeh completed her sentence. It was all becoming clearer to her. This was what Mrs Maxton was talking about.
"Mrs. Maxton. She's one of you?"
"She's our agent on Cloud Nine." Arya shrugged.
"The agent of what?"
"I asked you a question, girl!" Arya tapped her foot impatiently.
"I'm willing to do anything to get my abilities recognized. I don't want to die as a no one, or live doing something I'm not meant for doing," Alizeh was shocked at the hardness in her own voice.
"Once you join us, there's no going back though. Are you still interested?"
"Who's us? And no. I'm not the kind of person to betray trust."
"Agent M picked up a good candidate...hmm" Arya mused.
"We mean 'The firebirds'. That's' what we call ourselves," Arya got up, "Come with me. I need to show you something."
"Nice name," Alizeh smiled.
"Well, we have writers, artists and all kinds of creators in there, so finding a name was easy," Arya chuckled, "but getting them all to agree on one...well."
"You must be ruling with an iron hand."
"No one rules there. They're all free to come and go as they like. The ones in the outer sphere, at least," Arya gestured to the door, "We're all free spirits working in unison towards creating an earth that is free and just and worthy of living in... A world that doesn't suffocate talent."
"So aren't you afraid someone will go out and speak?" Alizeh followed her into the hallway.
"Not exactly. The traitors just disappear." Something cold glinted behind Arya's eyes and Alizeh didn't bother asking how. "Besides we don't let everyone in into the inner circle or show us our hideouts. There are only a trusted few. But since we span across all clouds, betrayal happens." There was genuine sorrow in her voice.
"So why does everyone fear you?" Alizeh asked.
"Because I'm one of the leader figures out there. A leaderless gang is as dangerous as a grenade without a pin," Arya mumbled, running her hands along the gilded borders of one of the portraits on the wall. The canvas seemed to scream extravagance.
"You're a writer, aren't you?"
"Recognized the metaphor, didn't you? But no. I'm a fashion designer," to Alizeh's surprise, Arya winked.
"Damn straight. You are multitalented."
"So are you and that's why I need you, Alizeh. Mujhe tumhari zaroorat hai," she repeated it in Hindi, emphasizing her point. Alizeh wasn't satisfied though and she launched into a volley of questions.
"So I'm the outer circle?"
"Hmm."
"Don't your teammates know who you are in real life?"
"I don't like to mix my two lives until and unless absolutely necessary, so no," the reply came, short and crisp.
"Where does the funding come from?"
"Pioneers like us and volunteers that make anonymous payment to our cause. Some big officials wanting a platform to display their talents, aristocrats from Cloud One, even ministers that don't like the current government."
"Whoa! You have a huge planning behind those dreams of yours," Alizeh wondered out aloud.
"Lady A doesn't do a crappy job." Arya grinned as she moved to a set of polished wooden doors and threw them open.
"Welcome to Arya Fashions." she announced with pride.
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