Phoenix Rising
Chapter 2
Natalya Daly sighed, pushing her wire-rimmed glasses back on the bridge of her nose, continuing to scrawl further notation on a clipboard. The dull squeaking of a hamster wheel in the background disharmoniously clashed with the incessant scratching of rodent nails against the glass cages in which she kept her rat subjects. Natalya Daly had been trained as a biologist and chemist, but ended up dropping out of college due to lack of funding from her country parents. Finishing a biochemistry degree just wasn’t feasible, not with a war going on. Well, finishing a biochemistry degree that wouldn’t ultimately be used to engineer some sort of biological weapon used to further dehumanize this conflict between men.
Natalya was sickened by the war, but it was all she understood, the same as the generations before her. A hundred years had gone by since the beginning. It was sheer madness. Life had simply ceased. In the search for true freedom, the rulers of the nations had overlooked the fundamental definition of the word. Natalya eventually began working for a pharmaceutical company, her days filled with the banality of drug testing on rodents and filling prescriptions for civilians. She’d been asked out by co-workers, but had always shot them down. She preferred human company to that of the rodents she with which she was tampering. It was unfortunate that she was poisoning most of them. Then again, the government never seemed to mind killing off its people in a similar fashion.
Natalya had dreamed of joining Phoenix Rising ever since entering college. While her parents wished that she would further the Axis cause and bring about victory for their sovereign nation along with unification of the nations, Natalya refused. She’d heard of the organization from a renegade group of freedom fighters in her residence hall. They’d been committed to breaking out victims from the re-education camps and sending them to Allied friendly nations. Not a one of them supported unification. Natalya, however, was afraid of the consequences. And so, she stayed by the wayside, watching as her classmates and friends were all expelled and sent to re-education camps themselves, one by one. As the correspondence stopped coming, Natalya withdrew further and further, seeking companionship with rodents rather than with people.
When she heard of the ability to train rodents for reconnaissance, she began working feverishly on equipping her “team” for Phoenix Rising. It was her rats that had infiltrated the abandoned factory down the road. Natalya knew the consequences if she had been caught in the act, but because of the rats, she was able to maintain a safe distance, yet still capture the video footage and evidence that Phoenix Rising requested. While not technically a member of the organization, only a freelance agent, she dreamed that maybe her footage would be of some use to the reconnaissance team.
Natalya removed her glasses and switched off her desk lamp, setting down her clipboard to begin leaving the rodent lab and move into her living room. Her converted “home” was modest, but functional. A small kitchenette and living room, bathroom, bedroom and converted laboratory were really all she needed to get by. She bid the rats goodnight, and shut the door behind her, walking into the hallway towards the kitchenette to make some tea.
That’s when she heard the noise. Quiet, but sharp, like a falling tree branch under the weight of too much snow. It was winter, but there had been no snow recently. Besides, branches could fall almost any conditions given the woods surrounding her home. Natalya shrugged, filling a tea kettle with water. Upon turning off the faucet, she swore she heard a female voice cry out in the woods. Alarmed, Natalya grabbed a flashlight and threw a coat on over her sweatpants and t-shirt. She gripped the handle of the door firmly in her hand, trying to find the strength to turn the knob. Steeling her nerves, she walked outside and walked towards the road.
Panic gripped Natalya as she realized the sight before her. Four people, their forms nearly too dark to make out, were walking alongside the nearly deserted road towards the abandoned factory. Natalya backed up, slowly, and then turned and ran for the house. Upon re-entering the living room, she slammed the door shut behind her and fumbled for the lock.
Suddenly, violently, memories of her college friends came flooding back. They had begged her to take risks, to stand for what she believed. Fear of her parents’ acceptance always held her back. However, times had changed. It was hard to worry about your parents’ acceptance when you’d already been kicked out and forced to make it on your own. Natalya then realized what she had to do.
A few short minutes later, she was armed with cages and a bag of equipment. Her “team” was assembled and ready to go. A small pistol was among the things she placed with her rat reconnaissance tools. She climbed into her old Volkswagen and drove to the abandoned factory. It seemed silly, but Natalya’s heart quickened a little when she realized that Phoenix Rising’s reconnaissance team might actually be benefitted by the information she could collect. She parked the car off the road, hidden from plain view, and began to approach the factory gate, determined to figure out just what was going on.
________________________________________________________________________
The team walked, cautiously, each daring not to make a sound. While the factory was supposed to be abandoned, the suspicious activity was enough to make any trained fighter think twice. Roxana lead the way, following the digital read-out of her handheld GPS. The members of the team were completely silent, each following the verbal cues of the others. Nothing needed to be said that couldn’t be said by eye contact, a shrug of the shoulder, or any other bodily indication. Max followed closely behind Roxana, gripping his bulky assault rifle. Leo rolled his eyes, gripping his pistol in his right hand; he preferred the elegance of a small pistol to the oversized girth of a rifle. Leo was beginning to understand that many things about Maxamis Slay were overkill.
Roxana stopped short, holding up a hand to signal a stop to her teammates. Maxamis and Leo tightened their grips on their weapons, while Lizzie reached for the rifle still slung over her shoulder. Without much information other than to conduct an investigation, the team had no idea if any patrols or Axis friendly scientists were scurrying about the hallways late at night. Roxana glanced at the GPS and where it was directing them to turn based on the directions from headquarters. Tilting her head to the left, she turned to walk down a winding hallway, and the team followed suit
While the building was not lit, moonlight poured through the tiny privacy windows that littered the walls. There seemed to be dirty tile for miles – either that, or white paint. The structure had obviously not been kept in good repair.
That’s when Max heard the noise, the slightest shuffle and skitters across the echoing linoleum flooring. He instinctively reached for Roxana’s arm and pulled her back, his grip digging into her lower forearm just above her wrist. She whipped her head around to glance at him furiously. For such a tough guy, he still had such problems controlling his nerves. It frustrated Roxana, always preferred to be in the middle of the action.
A moment of increasing tension swelled and eventually released as the entire team released a collective breath. Whatever they heard must have been gone, perhaps a rustling of a tree branch or something of the sort. And then, Max felt the slightest tickling sensation against his foot. He looked down, and jumped back at what he saw.
A small white rat, sniffing his foot, and then scurrying off into the darkness.
Natalya was sickened by the war, but it was all she understood, the same as the generations before her. A hundred years had gone by since the beginning. It was sheer madness. Life had simply ceased. In the search for true freedom, the rulers of the nations had overlooked the fundamental definition of the word. Natalya eventually began working for a pharmaceutical company, her days filled with the banality of drug testing on rodents and filling prescriptions for civilians. She’d been asked out by co-workers, but had always shot them down. She preferred human company to that of the rodents she with which she was tampering. It was unfortunate that she was poisoning most of them. Then again, the government never seemed to mind killing off its people in a similar fashion.
Natalya had dreamed of joining Phoenix Rising ever since entering college. While her parents wished that she would further the Axis cause and bring about victory for their sovereign nation along with unification of the nations, Natalya refused. She’d heard of the organization from a renegade group of freedom fighters in her residence hall. They’d been committed to breaking out victims from the re-education camps and sending them to Allied friendly nations. Not a one of them supported unification. Natalya, however, was afraid of the consequences. And so, she stayed by the wayside, watching as her classmates and friends were all expelled and sent to re-education camps themselves, one by one. As the correspondence stopped coming, Natalya withdrew further and further, seeking companionship with rodents rather than with people.
When she heard of the ability to train rodents for reconnaissance, she began working feverishly on equipping her “team” for Phoenix Rising. It was her rats that had infiltrated the abandoned factory down the road. Natalya knew the consequences if she had been caught in the act, but because of the rats, she was able to maintain a safe distance, yet still capture the video footage and evidence that Phoenix Rising requested. While not technically a member of the organization, only a freelance agent, she dreamed that maybe her footage would be of some use to the reconnaissance team.
Natalya removed her glasses and switched off her desk lamp, setting down her clipboard to begin leaving the rodent lab and move into her living room. Her converted “home” was modest, but functional. A small kitchenette and living room, bathroom, bedroom and converted laboratory were really all she needed to get by. She bid the rats goodnight, and shut the door behind her, walking into the hallway towards the kitchenette to make some tea.
That’s when she heard the noise. Quiet, but sharp, like a falling tree branch under the weight of too much snow. It was winter, but there had been no snow recently. Besides, branches could fall almost any conditions given the woods surrounding her home. Natalya shrugged, filling a tea kettle with water. Upon turning off the faucet, she swore she heard a female voice cry out in the woods. Alarmed, Natalya grabbed a flashlight and threw a coat on over her sweatpants and t-shirt. She gripped the handle of the door firmly in her hand, trying to find the strength to turn the knob. Steeling her nerves, she walked outside and walked towards the road.
Panic gripped Natalya as she realized the sight before her. Four people, their forms nearly too dark to make out, were walking alongside the nearly deserted road towards the abandoned factory. Natalya backed up, slowly, and then turned and ran for the house. Upon re-entering the living room, she slammed the door shut behind her and fumbled for the lock.
Suddenly, violently, memories of her college friends came flooding back. They had begged her to take risks, to stand for what she believed. Fear of her parents’ acceptance always held her back. However, times had changed. It was hard to worry about your parents’ acceptance when you’d already been kicked out and forced to make it on your own. Natalya then realized what she had to do.
A few short minutes later, she was armed with cages and a bag of equipment. Her “team” was assembled and ready to go. A small pistol was among the things she placed with her rat reconnaissance tools. She climbed into her old Volkswagen and drove to the abandoned factory. It seemed silly, but Natalya’s heart quickened a little when she realized that Phoenix Rising’s reconnaissance team might actually be benefitted by the information she could collect. She parked the car off the road, hidden from plain view, and began to approach the factory gate, determined to figure out just what was going on.
________________________________________________________________________
The team walked, cautiously, each daring not to make a sound. While the factory was supposed to be abandoned, the suspicious activity was enough to make any trained fighter think twice. Roxana lead the way, following the digital read-out of her handheld GPS. The members of the team were completely silent, each following the verbal cues of the others. Nothing needed to be said that couldn’t be said by eye contact, a shrug of the shoulder, or any other bodily indication. Max followed closely behind Roxana, gripping his bulky assault rifle. Leo rolled his eyes, gripping his pistol in his right hand; he preferred the elegance of a small pistol to the oversized girth of a rifle. Leo was beginning to understand that many things about Maxamis Slay were overkill.
Roxana stopped short, holding up a hand to signal a stop to her teammates. Maxamis and Leo tightened their grips on their weapons, while Lizzie reached for the rifle still slung over her shoulder. Without much information other than to conduct an investigation, the team had no idea if any patrols or Axis friendly scientists were scurrying about the hallways late at night. Roxana glanced at the GPS and where it was directing them to turn based on the directions from headquarters. Tilting her head to the left, she turned to walk down a winding hallway, and the team followed suit
While the building was not lit, moonlight poured through the tiny privacy windows that littered the walls. There seemed to be dirty tile for miles – either that, or white paint. The structure had obviously not been kept in good repair.
That’s when Max heard the noise, the slightest shuffle and skitters across the echoing linoleum flooring. He instinctively reached for Roxana’s arm and pulled her back, his grip digging into her lower forearm just above her wrist. She whipped her head around to glance at him furiously. For such a tough guy, he still had such problems controlling his nerves. It frustrated Roxana, always preferred to be in the middle of the action.
A moment of increasing tension swelled and eventually released as the entire team released a collective breath. Whatever they heard must have been gone, perhaps a rustling of a tree branch or something of the sort. And then, Max felt the slightest tickling sensation against his foot. He looked down, and jumped back at what he saw.
A small white rat, sniffing his foot, and then scurrying off into the darkness.