The sun rose slowly over the tall steel plated walls of New Anachro as daytime resumed. Thieves dive for cover and vandals hide in their dens, waiting for night time to come around again. Things are sad in the slums. Life is miserable and everyone let's everyone else know about it with sad moans and pained groans. Sickness and disease ran rampant around the slums, a definite contrast to the high society of New Anachro. The place where the upper echelon lived and gorged themselves on excess while others barely scraped by. Silver Claw stood on a third story window, watching the sunrise. He shouldn't be there, no lower class member should even get past the outer market and yet here he stood. His uncanny balance the only thing preventing him from tumbling over the edge. He sighed as he watched the bruisers take to the streets again. Their massive brass legs rose and fell in fluid, perfect motions, too perfect. Their arms didn't move as they marched along and their faces had no expression. Instead they exhaled steam in small puffs, like breath. The day resumed around him and the city, alive as ever, continued it's day to day routine. Shops opened automatically and public doors opened. Steam belched from odd surface vents, the cause of many a child's burns. Silver shook his furry head as he watched the hidden dictatorship wake up below him. Things would change from now, especially if the city had those willing to read his numerous flyers set up along all of New Anachro. From the refineries to the corners of high society. On every billboard and every alleyway. He had been busy last night, and with a little more than just scaring the knickers off of sleeping noblewomen before stealing their jewelry. The flyers read, in plain enambic (print letters)
People, ponies, anthros of New Anachro. The city is more than just a place to live, it is our taskmaster. We must unite in this time of need and destroy the tyrannical dictator.
Join the rebellion, a group with no racial prejudice or discrimination dedicated to the liberation of the city. We don't care who you are or what you look like. We need to destroy the city together.
Find me on the corner of Soliloquy and Enjambment road. Key phrase: "The cogs are in place"
Hopefully some of the other citizens will find the notices and meet me here. he thought as he sat down on the sill, his black trenchcoat hanging off the sill's edge. No doubt he wouldn't be found for a while, the upper class had a nasty habit of not checking the skies for danger . . . Or anywhere for that matter.
