Weeks prior to the move.
"Basil Luphius D'Mourir." The loudspeaker crackled his name within the small shelter that was assigned to him for when waves of attacks were soaring overhead. "Please report to the main office."
A finger ran over the length of his damaged arm, as he perked his attention towards the battered speaker. "The waves are still passing over, sir. It may be best to wait it out."
"Understood. How are the refugee's holding out?" The loudspeaker alternated to a raspy voice, that of one of the Major's in charge of making sure those caught up in the war of the civilian count were maintained.
"So far, so good. I only have about two dozen with me, though. The city was already evacuated when I arrived." He pulled up from the makeshift bench that he was seated upon, which rattled and broke apart the moment he did so. A glance was offered from behind long bangs. "When is the EVAC team arriving?"
"No E.T.A.. I assume you can watch out for them until I ----" Static filled the loudspeaker mere seconds before a tremor shook the shelter's foundation, which forced Basil to his knees, his one good arm reaching out to support himself upon the floor. The small, dim, flickering hanging bulb, the only floursecent lighting in his small room, buzzed before the power was cut. Small screams could be heard from just outside, which registered to him that their shelter had lost external power. Hopefully, the core would last to supply air until the team would arrive...
This was the life of a certain D'Mourir. When not infilterating rival bases as one of the 'leading' spies, he was assisting EVAC squads to be sure that any and all civilian activity. The work was brutal, down to the very core. And it showed in the face, features, and otherwise demeanour of Basil. Few considered him friendly, even though his heart was of pure gold. Few considered him honest, even though the only lie he told was that he held no hard feelings for his father's demise. Few considered him trusting, even though his deepest secret was a well-kept one from when he was a child. And few considered him 'human', due to the pressure he put on himself to be sure his sisters remained well. He'd stay up for forty-eight hours at a time to be sure that their well-being was two-hundred percent times better than his own.
Armed with nothing more than a raygun his father created for him when he was merely nine years old, Basil had become profound in methods of espionage, sealth, security, and the liking. Some considered him to be a 'thief', using his general habits and skills to break into the homes of innocent for illegal goods. But Basil never understood it as 'stealing', for in a wartorn world, only the most fit could survive.
Life had never been easy, and perhaps it was why Basil misplaced his understanding in his skills to provide for those less fortunate. Robin's tale of "Steal from the Rich to give to the Poor" made sense, here. He'd place his trust in himself, and his faith in his name, to be sure to accomplish the tasks that he had to overcome. For - it was perhaps the only way he'd manage to survive.. day after day.
"Basil Luphius D'Mourir." The loudspeaker crackled his name within the small shelter that was assigned to him for when waves of attacks were soaring overhead. "Please report to the main office."
A finger ran over the length of his damaged arm, as he perked his attention towards the battered speaker. "The waves are still passing over, sir. It may be best to wait it out."
"Understood. How are the refugee's holding out?" The loudspeaker alternated to a raspy voice, that of one of the Major's in charge of making sure those caught up in the war of the civilian count were maintained.
"So far, so good. I only have about two dozen with me, though. The city was already evacuated when I arrived." He pulled up from the makeshift bench that he was seated upon, which rattled and broke apart the moment he did so. A glance was offered from behind long bangs. "When is the EVAC team arriving?"
"No E.T.A.. I assume you can watch out for them until I ----" Static filled the loudspeaker mere seconds before a tremor shook the shelter's foundation, which forced Basil to his knees, his one good arm reaching out to support himself upon the floor. The small, dim, flickering hanging bulb, the only floursecent lighting in his small room, buzzed before the power was cut. Small screams could be heard from just outside, which registered to him that their shelter had lost external power. Hopefully, the core would last to supply air until the team would arrive...
This was the life of a certain D'Mourir. When not infilterating rival bases as one of the 'leading' spies, he was assisting EVAC squads to be sure that any and all civilian activity. The work was brutal, down to the very core. And it showed in the face, features, and otherwise demeanour of Basil. Few considered him friendly, even though his heart was of pure gold. Few considered him honest, even though the only lie he told was that he held no hard feelings for his father's demise. Few considered him trusting, even though his deepest secret was a well-kept one from when he was a child. And few considered him 'human', due to the pressure he put on himself to be sure his sisters remained well. He'd stay up for forty-eight hours at a time to be sure that their well-being was two-hundred percent times better than his own.
Armed with nothing more than a raygun his father created for him when he was merely nine years old, Basil had become profound in methods of espionage, sealth, security, and the liking. Some considered him to be a 'thief', using his general habits and skills to break into the homes of innocent for illegal goods. But Basil never understood it as 'stealing', for in a wartorn world, only the most fit could survive.
Life had never been easy, and perhaps it was why Basil misplaced his understanding in his skills to provide for those less fortunate. Robin's tale of "Steal from the Rich to give to the Poor" made sense, here. He'd place his trust in himself, and his faith in his name, to be sure to accomplish the tasks that he had to overcome. For - it was perhaps the only way he'd manage to survive.. day after day.