New Absolon was a mess of a place, especially for the Mid Rim. Their society was firmly split between three classes of people. The Workers, the poor laborers, cogs in the machine of industry. The Civilized, nobles and wealthy land-owners, kings of industry, reaping the benefits of the Workers. The Absolutes, the totalitarian ruling class that controlled it all.
And for the past decade, the Workers had rebelled. Poor living conditions, poorer pay, stolen labor. They lacked money or resources, in a grander scale, when compared to their enemy. But there were many. Very many, in all levels of society that made things run as they were meant to. Ironically, the Civilized and Absolutes had hired such mercenaries as Black Sun to hammer the rebels down. Through subterfuge and desperation, the Workers hired Apex.
For the last decade, the war hadn't really gone well for either side. It was a steady grind and the planet was slowly burning down, like forge coals exposed to wind. Both sides were rapidly exhausting manpower and resources. What more could they do?
Or, more accurately, what would Apex do?
Nakoa was bent over an aging holotable, caked with dust and debris except for the display screen he'd thoroughly cleaned for the clearest possible hologram. Amber-golds stared into the capital city before them, the locations of strike and sabotage cells, the homes of Civilized homes and bunkers, the Fortress of the Absolute. He'd yet to decide on the quickest way to end things in the Workers' favor. It frustrated him, despite only having been on the world with Arla for at most a day.
Some part of him reminded him he should probably rest, but he didn't feel like it. He could rest when he figured something out.
@Phoenix
War Status: 45/100, about even.
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