Part 3
New Providence, FCD
Federal Republic of Centralia
January 24, 2020 - 3:10 PMParker was on cloud nine all the way back to the apartment. He was in such a good mood, in fact, that he didn't even complain when the neighbor they'd borrowed the car from decided to charge them for the privilege. As they approached the apartment door, however, Matt noticed it was ajar. He grabbed Parker's arm and nodded in the door's direction.
"What the--" Parker started to say, but Matt shushed him. Maybe their meeting with Anonymous hadn't gone unnoticed after all; one way or the other, Matt didn't see the wisdom in alerting any unwanted visitors to their presence.
They continued up the hall more quietly, and Matt pushed the door open slowly enough to avoid the worst of the corroded hinges' squeaking. The lights were off inside, and the shutters were closed, so the entire apartment was bathed in a kind of twilight despite the fact that it was still midday. The two stepped over the threshold, and Parker swung the door back closed just as slowly as Matt had opened it. As Matt's eyes adjusted to the dimness, he noticed a figure seated in one of the dilapidated armchairs in the apartment's main room. At first, he thought it was Michael, and he almost called out a greeting, but then he realized the person was too tall and thin. Besides, Michael was in New Eastland to visit his aunt. It couldn't be Kale either, because he was attending a lecture and wouldn't be back for at least another hour.
Parker stiffened, which told Matt he'd noticed the stranger too. Unlike Matt, Parker found his voice. "Who're you?" he demanded, reaching for a light switch.
"Hold up there, son," the stranger responded, and Parker froze. The stranger's voice was deep, obviously male, and resounding with projected authority.
"Who are you?" Parker asked again, arm extended toward the wall.
"Name's Korso," the strange man answered, "You two are Parker and Matt. Come, sit."
It was odd being asked to sit in one's own home, but it didn't even occur to Matt to disobey. Parker, however, put a hand on Matt's shoulder to stop him from walking further into the apartment. "What do you want?" he asked, "And how do you know who we are?"
"That's a long story, son," the stranger said, "But if you'll at least lock the door before you flip that switch, I'll tell."
Cautiously, Parker reached behind him and jiggled the latch until it clicked. Then he flipped the light on. The stranger was lean and tall, with a wiry build. His dark hair was accented by streaks of gray, and his brown eyes were piercing in the intensity of their gaze. Matt was absolutely certain he had never seen the man before in his life, and by the way Parker's eyes narrowed, Matt was sure he thought the same. Still, there didn't seem to be any danger. Matt and Parker took seats on the sofa across the room from the older man.
"As I said," the latter continued, "My name is Korso. I'm with the Sons of Liberty."
"The what?" Matt interrupted, confused.
"The Sons of Liberty," Korso said patiently, "We're a clandestine group of concerned individuals scattered throughout Centralian society who see the present domination of government by Lance Pullman and his Homeland Security and Patriot Party lackeys as something to be resisted. We draw inspiration from the Founding Fathers and their resistance toward Tytorian rule during the Centralian Revolution. There was a group called the Sons of Liberty back then too, in fact. Anyway, we have a loose association with sections of Anonymous. I know that's where you were today, because your contact got in touch with me. I want to offer you a place in our organization."
Matt had a distinct feeling of getting in over his head, but Parker seemed completely convinced. "So what do you do?" Parker asked enthusiastically, all of his previous apprehension gone.
"Me? I'm a civil engineer with the Department of Energy," Korso said, "But I know that's not what you meant. Up until now, the Sons of Liberty have been merely recruiting, building strength in preparation for the inevitable showdown. But you've got spunk, and your stunt with the DHS mainframe has turned some heads. We've been wanting to move toward open resistance for a while now, and we think people with skills and connections like you've got have the potential of turning the tide in the struggle against authoritarianism in this country. In short, we need community organizers."
Suddenly, the intensity of the discussion was interrupted by the sound of the lock on the front door rattling. All three, recruits and recruiter, froze as the latch clicked. The door opened creakily, and there was Kale, back early from his class. He shuffled inside, nose buried in a stack of junk mail from the mailbox downstairs, and shut the door behind him with his foot. He looked up, and his eyes met those of Korso. He froze too.
The silence was broken by Korso. "Kale," he said warily, "I thought you were in class."
"Get out," Kale said shortly.
"Now son--" Korso replied placatingly, rising to his feet.
"Don't call me that," Kale shot back quietly, "Not after what you pulled. I'd wager anything that these two didn't invite you here." He glanced briefly at the sofa where Matt and Parker still sat. "So go."
Korso blanched slightly. "I thought we were past that," he said, almost as quietly as Kale, "That was years ago."
"Yes, it was years ago," Kale said, "Now get out."
Korso nodded solemnly and walked to the door. Hand on the doorknob, he turned and gave Parker and Matt long, searching looks. "Think about what I've told you," he said at last, ignoring Kale, "Your contact will know how to get in touch with me if you decide..." Letting his sentence trail off unfinished, he pulled the door open, and with one final glance over his shoulder, he was gone.