Flashes Of Light

Past - Sveta

Logar's shirt had something scribbled on it with a sharpie and in what looked like a small, terrible calligraphy. It said:

"I don't take my country forward

I don't take my coffee black

I am nothing but straight-forward

I want to take my country back"

"Dude," Percie commented. "Did you just rhyme forward with forward?"

"Aw, shut up," Logar fussed.

"You fucking Rimbaud," Ane said. "What is the sentence of the coffee about?"

Logar started picking at his nails. "People talk. They say all kind of things about us. Every time someone is tough, they start spreading this type of news, like that they take their coffee black. I don't. I don't take coffee at all, but if I did, I would need a lot of sugar in it."

I rolled my eyes. "No one thinks you're tough."

"Besides," I added. "The last time one of us wrote something on their clothes, they ended up dead."

"Aw, Sveta, I knew you were afraid of the written word, but I never thought you'd take it that far," Logar said. He was smiling, but I smacked his arm.

"I bet you think you're funny."

"I am the most cheerful leader you could ask for, why are you always yelling at me?"

"Okay, first of all, you're not the leader," I bit back. "And besides, do you really think you're cheerful?"

"I am, I'm deadly serious. I like pissing people off, but my attitude is sparkling and bubbly."

"Those two are synonyms."

"I know."

"Guys, please, I know you're nervous," Ane bit her lip. "But you could you please stop arguing? Look... I know this mission is more than what any of us was bargaining for, but we're all in it together regardless."

The Anti had been talking about the very real possibility that we'd have to kill the President, and that day, he had decided we would have to train for it.

"Alright, let's brainstorm," Percie said. "The Anti told us to think of something that will disguise us, but not too much, since we want to be recognized. I was thinking that whatever it is, it needs to slow down the people who will try to stop us. So, something that will throw them off."

"Is any of you familiar with Ned Kelly?"

"Do you want to wear a make-shift armour and helmet that will guarantee they can shoot us everywhere but in the face and the chest?" I asked. "What? We had television in the Dormitory."

"No," Logar blinked. "If you're familiar with the version of one of the movies, I was thinking about wearing dresses. This will shock them."

"I don't think a dress on me, or on Ane, will be very shocking," I replied, deadpan.

"Perhaps not, but have you wore one recently? One of those terrible pastel things with laces and frills?"

"Terrible?" Ane snorted. "They're not my style, but I think they're quite pretty. Maybe, Iris, you don't get a saying."

The Anti had gotten us pastel dresses and we were practising moving, and in Ane's case, shotting, with them on. He had divided the gym of the Monastery in a way it was set up like the President's vault. In fact, he told us that we didn't need to go into his house with the idea of killing him. We would start with a robbery, and see how it plays out.