"Garrett Lidwell"❧
Sunlight poured through a cracked, dusty window of a downtown third story apartment, nestled between a chemist's shop and an abandoned building that was half-burnt and threatening to crumble at any moment. The beam of hot sunlight hit the face of a young man, somewhere in his late twenties, who recoiled under the thin sheet and turned his back to the window. His ashen blue eyes blinked open beneath his squinting brows as he peered into the chaos that was his bedroom. He sat up slowly, and shook his unkempt hair between his fingertips, loosening the tangles and letting the uneven locks fall into place. He stretched his arms upward until he could feel his abdomen stretch as well, and then let his arms fall loosely to his sides, letting out a satisfied grunt. Throwing himself out of bed he walked promptly to the window and threw it open to let some air into the small, dank apartment. As soon as the window was wide open, a brisk, chilly morning breeze wafted through the room and blew the stray locks of muddy brown hair out of his face. The cool air coaxed him to take a deep breath, which he willingly obliged, but not without consequence. The air outside smelled strongly of rust and mildew which made a tremble creep up his spine and evolve into a shudder.
The man turned from the window and walked into a small bathroom that was barely big enough to fit one person, containing a sink, a toilet, and a small shower just barely squeezed in. He turned on the sink and let the water sputter and splash until a small stream began to flow out evenly. Cupping his hands underneath the water, he gathered a small pool within his palms and splashed it over his face several times. He looked up into the mirror briefly to see the messy clumps of hair falling into his face. "I need a haircut." he grumbled, his voice gruff from just waking. He turned the knob on the sink once again and it squeaked in response as the water dribbled to a stop.
Finishing his morning routine by brushing his teeth and then urinating, he threw on a pair of dark brown cargo-pants, a loose, tan shirt, and a brown leather vest with a strange emblem sewn on the inside, he scurried out the door and into the inner halls of the apartment building.
He descended hastily down the stairs until he reached the second floor's hallway of doors. He scanned each number painted on the dark wood until he found the one he recognized. Apartment 6B. He planted a few firm knocks on the door and waited patiently for it to slowly be pulled open. On the other side stood an elderly woman, looking to be about in her early sixties. "Hello Rose." The man said smoothly, his voice like liquid.
"Why hello there Garrett. Need another haircut I see?" She teased lovingly.
Garrett let out a small chuckle. "Is it that obvious?" he said with pseudo-shyness.
Rose motioned for him to come in and led him to an old wooden chair that sat in front of her old vanity mirror. The desk worn and chipped with age, but Rose took remarkably good care of the mirror, knowing that most tenants in the building came to her for haircuts, not having the money to spend on them. Garrett admittedly had the money to afford one, but he enjoyed visiting Rose anyhow.
Rose clipped away at his hair gingerly and hummed an old lullaby that seemed to resonate within the walls of the building. The two exchanged small-talk and talked about the new government ordinance that decreed that all persons must be within doors before nine o'clock PM. Garrett huffed, claiming that the law was too strict, but Rose only sighed at the notion, knowing there was nothing they could do about it.
"No use opposing the High Overseer." Rose murmured. "There isn't a thing in the world people like you or me could do about it."
Garrett kept his mouth shut, knowing that if he had said what he wanted to, it would put Rose at risk. "Of course" He choked out.
"Oh, and Garrett, could I ask you a favor?" She said while finishing up. "Could you stop by the chemist's on your way home and pick up my prescription? I'm afraid my knees are being rather disagreeable today, and I'd rather not risk climbing those stairs." Garrett gave a quick nod, and smiled.
He thanked her for the haircut with a tight hug and left in a hurry, shaking his now clean-cut hair between his fingers. He descended another floor and exited the apartment building. He walked in a determined stride down the sidewalk and slid into the shadows of the third alleyway he came to. He scanned the walls of the building to the right and quickly removed a brick from the wall, revealing a small button. He pushed it quickly and replaced the brick. As quietly as possible, the bricks on the wall began to shift aside and replaced themselves in a different order, creating a new doorway that Garrett walked through stealthily. Behind him, the bricks moved back into their original position, leaving Garrett in darkness.
A light above him flickered on, revealing him to be in what seemed to be a metal box. The room jiggled and shifted and began to descend into the earth. Further and further the elevator plunged into a seemingly endless void. Eventually, it halted to a stop and another doorway stood before him. This one guarded by a large, rather crabby looking fellow. Garrett turned the inside of his vest towards the man, flashing the emblem briefly. The man nodded and opened the door behind him, letting Garrett into a secret room that lay far below the surface world.
"Well, if it isn't our valiant and noble leader." A hoarse voice said sarcastically from one of the corners of the room.
There were exactly 5 other people in this room, but each possessed a valuable skill of which they were an expert at. The one who spoke to Garrett first was a tall, lanky looking fellow who wore thick glasses, his name was Dexter, but everyone called him Dex. His specialty was information collection. He was a con-man of sorts before Garrett recruited him. He's usually able to sweet-talk information out of people, or is able to follow them without being detected usually, and if those approaches don't work he has a vast network of connections.
The larger, more muscular one sitting on an old armchair in the center of the room is a genius engineer, particularly in the field of weapon craft. His name was Hector, and calling him any variation of that name might get you hurt. He spoke with a thick, undetectable accent. Sometimes it sounded German, and others a little Russian.
The third was a woman a little older than Garrett. This was Victoria, whom was renowned for her thievery. She's able to nearly melt into the shadows despite her pale skin. She's a viper, though, and the men know not to mess with her.
Next is Quintin, a man in his early forties, who sat currently in the chair adjacent to Hector. He had a darker skin tone and his face was worn and heavy with years of stress. His passion lies within technology and hacking.
The fifth member of the crew was an old man, Clive, who stood quietly in the back of the room. In the past, he had been an honored high-ranking officer in the city guard. However, he grew resentful of the corrupt Government and fled the force, leaving a hefty reward for his capture. He took with him years of guard knowledge as well as the ability to plan and execute the group's raids.
And finally there was Garrett, the young and willful leader of the group, as Dexter called him. He was the motivation, the morale. He is the one that brought them all together in pursuit of a better world. They were the resistance. They were small now, but cunning, and Garrett knew that this would be to their advantage.
"You're late again." Quintin remarked seriously. "I trust it was for a good reason."
"Of course. I needed a Haircut." Garrett replied nonchalantly with a large grin slapped on his face.
Victoria rolled her eyes. "If you're the leader then we're doomed."
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