Editing Phase Q/Node

“We’ll regroup here, join up with H3 and H7, then target their weak points,” says Armadillo.

“Which are?” asks Watchtower.

“Communications, transportation. First we con their broadcast stations, then we redirect traffic. Jam, confuse, destroy.”

Armadillo stops and thinks.

“What if they anticipate our attack?”

“Then we sap the stations, blow their tops, and neither side gets to talk.”

“Done.”

You don’t tell them that their encryption has been broken, and they only have seven hours left to live.

“What’s kickin’ on the livewire?” Armadillo asks.

“All clear,” says Laser. “Tubeworks operational. Seven thousand nodes active. Five main connections. We have 83% throughput.”

Over on a makeshift cot, Natalya stirs restlessly. “We can also launch loose actions against schools and other soft targets,” she says.

As the Futurista cells exchange underground messages, preparing attacks on Trad infrastructure, you think briefly back to your childhood.

“Look, I have an idea,” you say.

“Oh yeah?” asks Watchtower?

“Those lights, are they the nodes?” Blips of light flash on the tubeworks displays.

“Yes, each one has a transcom and a unit rep.”

“Can we summon some of these nearby ones as backup? We can pool our resources. We’ll be stronger together than we are apart.”

Watchtower eyes you leerily. On the wall behind him, a calendar shows a nude model amid a pile of electronics. The month hasn’t been changed yet.

“You’re barely able to survive, here. How many people does it take to operate one of these transcoms? You can’t even afford the redundant effort.”

Watchtower chorts. He paces a bit.

“What else can you do?” you add.

“We’re going to wait. Tomorrow we’ll know what the government tells the people. We can compare that with our traces on their internal messaging. Then we launch the info takeover like Armadillo said. We’re in this for the long haul.”

On the tubeworks bulletins, you see headers streaming by. WE CONTROL RED SECTOR. WATCH YOUR SNIPES. VIVA LA FUTURISTA. GOODBYE OLD DAYS.

Movements trace out the evolving shift in power. You can almost feel the data rushing through your veins. City hall falls to the Futuristas. The Trads take out a node. Forests burn. Propaganda flies.

As the hours go by, tension wears. You see more sweat, more furrowed brows. Futuristas mill about, often in dirty clothes. You could easily be in a prison camp, or an insane asylum. Yet, an optimistic mood prevails.

On the walls, an assortment of weapons, electronics, sex toys, and chemicals sit together. Half-finished projects lie scattered about the room. You can now maneuver around the obstacles without looking.

“Cheddar cheese, looks like we’re going straight to the capital,” says Armadillo. “Well vote me President.”

Boom! The room explodes. A fireball burns off your hair. Watchtower and Armadillo fly across the room, shattered. Your stump scorches with pain. In your peripheral vision, you see Natalya disintegrate.

A heavy squadron of Trads march in through the aftermath of the explosion.  The assault team clears out the node, handcuffing any moving bodies. You feel cold, hard metal lock tight against your remaining wrist.

* [[Phase Q/Heartland|Heartland]]
* [[Phase Q/Showdown|Showdown]]

{{Phase Q}}