A New Dawn, A New Day

There was nothing Nix enjoyed more than watching the golden sun rise slowly over the fog, the dawn of a new day.

For once, her air filter was offline and the chipped helmet was clipped to her harness next to the main and belay lines she’d used to climb to the top of The Eiffel Tower. The toxic radiation that hovered over the city in a thick green cloud lay a mere twenty stories below her dangling feet, completely obscuring what remained of the capital city of France.

She checked her watch. 0550 hours. Still ten minutes to go.

Nix fiddled with her rifle for a moment, checking to see if the glowing blue rounds were still undamaged in the magazine, before tugging on a zipper of her mech suit. From it she removed her most costly possession: a small heart shaped locket. Down in the haze, to carry gold was an invitation for a mugging, or worse, but up on the 105th floor of The Tower, there was nobody around to try.

She listened to the wind moan and felt the iron beams sway beneath her as she pressed her finger against the tip of the heart. It had been worn over time into a sharp point, rather like the rusting metal pike above her. They said The Tower used to be the most visited icon in the world, and if not for “The Big Bang”, it probably still would be. It was a marvel of modern engineering; but quite understandably, tourism had been one of the first items scratched off the agenda of survival necessities for post apocalyptic events.

The distant pop of gunfire wafted over a hot gust of air, turning her attention north east. Flares burst through the green haze like a bouquet of scarlet verbena.

The first signal. The trap was set.

She set a two minute countdown.

From her vantage point, she could just make out the tips of the three spires belonging to the basilica of Sacré Cœur. Another monument, once renowned for its beauty and dedicated to the vision of a loving and sympathetic Christ, now the headquarters of one of the most violent cults in the country.

Was this a divine judgement or a cruel sense of irony? Nix figured it was both. Paris used to be considered the city of love, but from her personal experience, it was nothing but a city of lies. She never would have traveled to Paris, removed herself from the safety of family and the security of life in the country if it weren’t for him.

Her eyes drifted away from the lights to her watch, then down to the locket. The red explosions were still glinting off its scarred face, giving it the illusion of a steady, pulsing heartbeat. Inside were two portraits: the girl she’d been two years ago- the one with rose colored glasses and a hopeful smile- and the man who’d pulled them from her face with such bittersweet caresses.

She’d found a way to live with the memories that felt more like scars. She’d even learned to thank the hand that had carved them. If it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t have learned how to dissect a finely crafted lie, to tell the difference between forgiveness and justification. She never would have understood why she couldn’t pull the trigger on a gibbering pile of rags who stank of filth and whiskey even through an air purifier.

Yet each scar, each life she’d been unable to take, had brought her closer to the understanding of a clearer purpose. The cutthroats and drug addled thieves that crawled around in the metros and sewers like rats were mere symptoms, and it was time to turn her attention to the disease.

The timer chimed moments before the firework display came to an end, and after resetting the alarm she pulled out a scavenged souvenir map of the city. It took her seconds to scan and confirm the final red and black marks on the faded paper. After months of patience and planning the players were set, and "The Bridges" were at last ready to strike a death blow to the cult of Armaros.

Nix wouldn’t have believed everything had gone according to plan if she hadn't overseen it all herself.

The Queen of Hearts had played her hand well, gathering valuable intel on the location of over 75% of Armaros’ caches of grade A tradeables: air filters, water pouches, urine-reclaiming systems, chem kits, and food rations. The Joker had the most unpredictable job by far, but had succeeded in keeping the cultist and his men overindulged and entertained in the pleasure district until sunrise. It was now up to The Jack of Clubs to perform the most convincing role. He had to pose enough of a threat to Armaros’ stronghold on Sacré Cœur to secure the drunken zealot’s attention, and distract him from their true target: clearing the caches. It was the responsibility of The King of Diamonds and his team to make quick work of the extractions with minimal casualties.

As for Nix, it was her role as The Ace of Spades that had sent her to the top of The Tower and out of harm’s way. She was the youngest of "The Bridges" by far, but as the mastermind of the plan, they’d agreed to let her participate so long as it was from a safe distance. Her assignment was to coordinate and communicate, and it was her honor to deal the final blow to Armaros’ tyrannical empire.

The vials currently loaded into the magazine had been found by The Queen in one of Armaros’ personal vaults. He’d claimed that it contained powerful chemical explosives that would level the city in a righteous blaze of fire. Implicit was the threat that he would not hesitate to unleash it should anyone question his rule.

"The Bridges" testing and spy network had quickly led them to question the validity of the threat.

From what they could determine, the concoction was a non-lethal cocktail of natural elements which, when exposed to the right catalyst, would create chemical reactions to cleanse the air. They determined water to be the most reactive catalyst, so when the time was right, she would fire a round into the Seine. In theory, this would create a chain reaction that would first set the water ablaze, then the fog, then begin to purify the air in a one mile radius.

It wasn’t a foolproof plan. There were a thousand ways it could go wrong, but they all knew the risks and they’d agreed it was a chance they were willing to take. While they were banking everything on a theory, the odds were still greatly in their favor. The Seine was densely populated, and "The Bridge" had planted several of their people along the riverfront to stir the masses up into an outrage against Armoros, to paint him as a heretic and a liar and a tyrant trying to hold onto his power.

So long as everything went according to plan...

Static crackled over Nix’s comms, and a series of rapid clicks signaled Armaros had taken the bait and was returning to Sacré Cœur.

As if to drive home the point, she could hear a sudden onslaught of explosions, followed by a thready trail of smoke that had managed to slither through the fog into the open air.

She took her cue and began to climb higher into the spire. It was dangerous work, and slow, the wind constantly pushing and pulling her towards missteps and falls, but the extra height was necessary to give her a margin of safety from the detonation. Once she oriented herself with a good vantage point of the river, she harnessed in as snugly as she could and settled in to wait.

Even as she turned her vigilant eyes to the horizon, her hand returned to her pocket. Her thumb nail began to trace the thin line that broke the heart shaped locket in two. She was tempted to take one last look at the face that had once brought such pleasure, then pain, then unrelenting resolve, but she couldn’t afford to bring up those memories now. She’d held on to them for too long.

She only allowed herself a moment of mourning for what had been before she extended her hand over the abyss, and let the chain slip through her fingers. As the locket disappeared beneath the fog she straightened her spine, locked her helmet into place, and rested the rifle snugly against the crook of her shoulder.

The girl she used to be was dead, and maybe soon, the memory of the man who’d killed her would be too.

The sun continued to climb, but the wind died down to barely a whisper, allowing her to catch the sounds of battle still raging several miles away. Some of those men and women wouldn’t live to see another day, but she had to ensure that their sacrifice counted for something.

A tense half hour passed, followed slowly by another, before the signal indicated The King had finished the last extraction. Though she couldn’t see the river through the haze, she knew exactly where to aim as she raised the scope to her right eye.

I’m coming for you, Armaros.

The shot momentarily threw her off balance, but the harness kept her feet firmly planted. Her heart pounded wildly in her ears as she strained to see into the fog. For a few agonizing heartbeats there was nothing, and then the green carpet beneath her began to glow until it was a dazzling white. A mushroom cloud the size of a city block erupted in a yellow flame of fire, followed by a thunderous crash that shook the very ground. She could feel the blast expand in her chest, and it was several minutes before The Tower stopped swaying, and she could hear again.

She released a wild laugh.

There was nothing Nix enjoyed more than watching the golden sun rise slowly over the fog, the success of her endeavors casting a warm glow across her face, the dawn of a new day.

After several deep breaths she managed to remember to set her alarm before raising the rifle to her shoulder once more. Her trigger finger twitched eagerly against the guard, and she waited with a giddy smile, ready to deliver the next crippling blow.