The Blackbird Revolution

It was black. A tired voice from a young boy yelled out. “Turn on the lights already, Xev!” The dim lights slowly flickered on. On the wet floor, the scattered remains of advanced technology pulsed and died. A man in his mid-twenties sheathed a knife. He sighed slowly, and then took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. In the hazy atmosphere, no one noticed the hairs on the back of his neck sticking up like pins. He whipped around, drawing out a complex looking gun and pulled the trigger swiftly. It has ear splitting in the small, contained space, and he was deafened momentarily. He contained the huge kick of the gun, but just barely. There was a flash of supremely bright light, a groan, and then a loud, metallic thud.

Half man, half machine, it had fallen forward. Parts of its body were encrusted in metal, a bright, gleaming, and exceptionally strong alloy. Only half of the human face was visible, and it was drawn out, weary looking, and deathly pale. The pigment from its eyes had faded long ago, leaving horrific-looking white eyes, but they were now clouding over. The shooter returned his gun into its slot in his belt, as he watched how to cyber organism disintegrated, as the always did. The man turned away, walking down a long, cold, stone corridor.

“Xevryn, what took you so long?” a voice called out in the darkness. The man turned to face the speaker. “Sorry,” he grunted. He walked into a slightly better lit room, glancing at the inquirer, a teenager with natural bleach-blonde hair in a slightly unkempt fashion, with bright, rebellious and starkly blue eyes. He was lounging in an old, broken wooden chair, sitting at a dilapidated poker table. “Knock it off, Len. You don’t need to bug Xevryn.” This time in was a much more feminine voice. A woman of the same age as Xevryn, slim, a little shorter than Xevryn, with golden-amber hair and piercing green eyes, walked out of a darkened corner. She walked by him before sitting at the table, grasping his hand and whispering, “I was worried, too, Xev.” She went and sat down in her chair, and Xevryn followed her and took his seat. He cleared his throat. “As we were leaving, I noticed another A.M.H.A.” He stopped and they all stayed silent as they heard the pitter-patter of small feet and slight giggling. Two fraternal twins, one boy and one girl, both about ten, ran into the room. The little boy piped up, “H.M.A.A.? Ham, Macaroni, Almonds, and Alligators?” The little girl tittered. The teenager answered. “A.M.H.A.; Advanced Mechanical Human Android.” Xevryn glared at Len. “Abigail, Cliff, run along now. We need to talk about grown-up things,” his voice trilled off as they ran down, continuing their game. He glanced over at the woman. “Abbi, we need to make plans. Sound the alarm; The Underground Clans need to gather, and plans need to be made.

It was the next day, but underground there was no way to tell the passage of time. Over 200 people were gathered in a large room, men, women, and children alike. Some of the children had never known their parents, who had either been harvested or killed. Some had their parents, but they were constantly on the run, living a hard life. These children, some of them had never been above ground, did not play ball or go to school; they were just trying to stay alive. Constantly hiding, learning the hard lessons young, such as kill or be killed. These children were hardy and tough on the outside, but they were truly frightened on the inside.

The people were all sitting on the floor around a group of four chairs. The first one was empty, Xevryn sat in the second one, and old man sat in the third, and a fourteen-year-old girl in the fourth. They all seemed nervous. The old man slowly stood up and the crowd grew silent. He rasped out in a crackling voice, “Greetings, clan members. We sadly mourn the loss of our matriarch of the Albany settlement, Beatrice. She will forever remain in the hearts of those who knew her,” he paused with his head bowed for a moment, a sniffle reverberating off of stone. He coughed politely and continued. “We were called to this meeting by Xevryn, leader of the New York City settlement. He has informed me that there has been a huge increase in attacks by the enemy. It seems that Blackbird has been collecting more and more normal citizens, and is now enforcing it upon the people who still live up there,” he paused, pointing up towards the ceiling. “They also seem not to be killing the people who do not survive the attacks anymore; they are instead bringing them and transforming them.” He sat back down slowly and nodded towards Xevryn. He stood up and continued.

“We have decided that it is time for the final stand; we all know that if the station in Albany is destroyed, all of the machines will power down, leaving their human hosts to go free, saving much bloodshed. We have decided that if all four sectors of the clans could band together, we could stand a chance against Blackbird. Now, fighting is not mandatory; we understand that the mothers and fathers may not want to leave their children alone, and that we should not have the children go into battle. That’s just common sense. We will have all of those who wish not to fight travel with Euxan,” he paused, nodding towards the old man. “To go to New Jersey, were it’s much safer; Blackbird hasn’t expanded into there, yet. We want the evacuees to be far away and in safety incase the mission fails and they sweep our current hideout. We want you all to understand that this mission has high risks; we don’t quite know the odds, but we do know that we have the element of surprise. We are assured we have no spies. We would like you now to-” he was cut off as he heard a scream, a gun shot, the quick, scattered, light footsteps of a child, another scream, and then long, precisely measured steps.

A man, covered almost completely in metal, was carrying a little boy by the neck of his shirt. He walked through the stunned crowd slowly, as they all stared at him. No one had ever been this close to one like him and lived. He reached the three sitting in the front of the stone auditorium and dropped the screaming boy into the empty chair. The boy was in shock and breathing heavily, but he seemed unhurt. Xevryn patted him on the back as his breathing slowed back down to normal pace. The cyborg just stood there, staring. Eventually the little boy wheezed out, “He brought me hear to…tell you…what…I saw…I saw…this lady…she was grabbed by the robot people like him…and they shot her…and they dragged her…and then they all disintegrated!” He shook and buried his head in his hands. He was visibly shaken by whatever he had seen. The robot suddenly spoke. “Message…for…Xevryn Dexan, son of the late Xavier Dexan and his late wife, Dyanne Jien Dexan. Message from Blackbird head agent called ‘Confucius’.” He stopped, and a screen on his chest turned on, showing the Blackbird logo, a blackbird’s head, but the eye of it was robotic looking, under it, in very neat letters were written “Founded January 12, 2103”. Xevryn scowled at the words in hatred; he was born January 12, 2153, the fiftieth birthday of Blackbird. Some would think of it as an honor, but he thought of it as the exact opposite. He shuddered as an overweight man wearing a pure black suit appeared on the small screen.

“Hello Xevryn Dexan, oh yes, I know your name. I know all things!” The man laughed.  Xevryn mumbled, “No you don’t, you obese idiot.” The man on the screen continued. “But do you know who I am? I am Confucius! Yes, the beloved founder of Blackbird. Anyways, You are most definitely wondering why I am contacting you. Well, you see,” he pursed his lips. “I really do wish you and your rebels would stop interfering with my work. It really annoys me! And you do not want to see me when I am annoyed!” The man was getting very angry, stamping his foot and cursing below his breath. He regained himself. “Excuse me. As I was saying, the rebellion going on underground in New York really must stop. If not, I may have to resort to drastic measures…like I have. Oh, boys!” He turned to two identical androids. He whistled, and they pulled a sheet off of a large pile.

“Abbi!” Xevryn yelled out, echoing throughout the area, ringing in the ears of everyone. “Ah yes,” the fat man laughed. “I have your precious little Abbi Walters, who I figured you…liked.” Xevryn watched angrily, his fists clenched and teeth grinding. “I have a deal for you, Xevvy my boy. Here’s the deal: You turn your good self and your band of the New York regiment in, surrender to me, and I’ll let Abbi go. If your team doesn’t want to come, you can just come along and tell me their whereabouts, that’s fine too. But, if you don’t surrender to me, I won’t kill Abbi,” the man smiled and Xevryn sighed with relief. “I’ll only make her into one of my agents. It’s a rather slow, painful process though, that leaves barely any memories of their loved ones. You have forty-eight hours to comply with the guidelines, or…we know what happens. Oh, and remember the old saying, ‘Don’t shoot the messenger’!” His image slowly faded away, his laughter ringing in Xevryn’s ears.

He turned to the messenger. He drew out his gun and shot off six shots, screaming over the bullets, “Tell him I hate that saying, and I never follow it!” The hybrid dropped to the floor on the second shot. It was dead after the third, but Xevryn still screamed at the corpse. “Tell Abbi I’ll get her, too, and that I love her.” Len yelled out from the crowd: “No, Xevryn, we will never surrender! Blackbird Rebellion, we always fight! Through the day and through the night!” The crowd began chanting it too, quietly at first, but it grew until it was so loud Xevryn had to cover his ears as the whole crowd screamed it. He tried to shut out the old war cry. It was like a game he used to play: Chess. He was in a checkmate, but he still had to find himself a way out. Xevryn held back his temper as he found himself torn between loyalty and love, in the worst stalemate of all.


One Response to “The Blackbird Revolution”

  1. Snow October 2, 2010 at 4:11 pm #

    Ooh… Sounds a lot like one of my stories I was writing… Hm. Anyway, it’s good!

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