Mr. Nguyen was not the kind of man to waste time on petty
things like tea shops. Never-the-less, this was where he had asked to meet
them. They all knew each other of course, or at least knew of each other. The
resistance was a small world, and few of its members were as capable as the
three gathered around the table today.
The privacy of identities was, of necessity, almost sacred
among the members of the resistance. Deeds and results were however things to
be celebrated, and each of these had accomplished a great deal in their time.
Looking around the table they didn't just see colleagues, they saw indentured
servants freed, resources stolen for the greater good, evil men vanquished in
the name of justice.
They saw works of freedom written in old scars and hard
eyes.
Still, gathering in one place like this was awkward. They
had heard that the shop was the kind of place where they could meet with
absolute discretion, but it still felt wrong. Dangerous.
Of course, it was only a matter of time before their fears
were proven accurate. Sitting in their quiet, well-concealed booth on the
second floor they heard the commotion below. Shouts, weapons drawn, screams,
and the sound of a window breaking as a lit oil lamp was thrown in among the
crowd. They stood as one, bracing themselves for the attack to come, but it
became quickly apparent that their gathering wasn't the target.
Carefully looking below they saw the flames starting to take
hold and armed men forcing the crowds back as they crowded Mr. Nguyen and an
elderly companion towards its warm embrace.
