Princess of the insurgents 20 We're not heroes.

"Jane, come inside. We need to join to the rest of the team right away."

After a lunch who was none other than a simple egg sandwich, Jane was already in a bad mood, but when she learned she had to get back in the car with that speed freak, her lips wrinkled even more.

"No, your driving is not safe, so I'm not getting in any more cars that you drive."

That little girl is so annoying, if Cindy didn't hold back, she'd slap her every five minutes. The young woman, however, restrains her anger and smiles as she points her right hand at Jane, who waves her finger from left to right to insist that she refuses.

"Are you sure?"

In front of the fire who takes birth in Cindy's hand, Jane, who just a moment ago, was very happy to upset the young woman, swallows her saliva. Her eyes wander through this little flame which gives off a hellish heat and she begins to sweat.

She would really do it! Diving into the mind of this brutal woman was a very bad idea. Now that she is aware of this, Jane throws herself into the passenger seat of the car and quickly locks her seat belt.

"I-I was just joking with you."

Maybe eating just one sandwich wasn't such a bad idea after all, because eggs are especially heavy on Jane's stomach. Cindy's driving looks like to a programmed suicide. She takes such sharp turns that Jane's heart is tilting with every turn of the steering wheel.
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04:35pm

On the poorly maintained parking lot of a popular district on the edge of Little Rock, Cindy's Chevrolet Corvette is parked next to 3 other cars, all from the last century.

On the spot, the 3 men and 3 women already there have abandoned their red leather outfits to put on a more discreet garment. The 6 overly relaxed people, who were waiting while smoking and emptying beers, turn their desolate eyes to the one who has to share her room with their boss.

"Guys, this is Jane. Her potential is awesome and if we ignore the fact that she is still a little young, I am sure she will be a great help for our future missions. Jane, this is Tyson, a B-rank auditory Spie and rank Visual Spie. He's the one that will allow our small group to reach the Coliseum without any problems.

That's Jenny, a rank Whisperer from Little Rock. Should anything unexpected happen, there is a 99% chance that the other Whisperers in town informs her in advance. Yes Jenny?"

The brunette woman, approximately 45 years old, turns her anxious eyes south.

"As a matter of fact, there's gonna be an army intervention two blocks from here. The neighborhood in question is on the route we were supposed to take to get to the Coliseum. I think it would be wise to quickly review our route."

Jane, who feels a little lost among all these adults, is being discreet and just listens to the conversations.

Cindy, considers the point of view of her Whisperer, but there's another idea popping into her head. The intervention of the army in the heart of a poor neighbourhood while they are present is a good thing.

"No, we're going to go out there and observe. Our little Princess will then be able to see with her own eyes, the daily life of those who haven't had her chance. Jane, we'll finish the introductions later."

5:15pm

To Jane's surprise, getting through the checkpoint was extremely simple. As a thank you for the large wad of Dollars Cindy gave her, a policeman inserted what must be a special personal assistant, into the slot of the bollard and the team was able to pass quietly, without even being checked.

Unlike Cindy and the other Hanumans on the team, who are sitting quietly on the steps of a building and look the show unfold with cold eyes, Jane's jaw trembles.

Less than 350 feet away from her, soldiers dressed in black invade the main boulevard.

Everything here gives the impression that a long civil war has ravaged this corner of the city.

The road, full of craters left by the explosions of grenades and various bombs, has become impassable. In this area, where the corpses of burnt-out cars abound on the sidewalks, not a single street lamp is still standing. As for the buildings, those that are still whole can be counted on the fingers of one hand.

It is on this Boulevard, seemingly straight out of a post-apocalyptic novel, that the soldiers take out their truncheons.

As soon as these men dressed in modern armour arrive, the previously almost empty pavements quickly fill up. On the faces of the inhabitants who come out of their buildings and invade the Boulevard, a boundless hatred is visible. For these people living in great precariousness, the confrontation with these soldiers who represent the power in place, cannot be avoided.

"We must go and help them. Why aren't you moving? Aren't you Hanumans?"

In the face of all the children born in the ashes of an internal war that has gone on too long who are about to collide with the soldiers, Jane wants to rush forward.

She knows that the adults who taught them to hate power are the same adults who armed their hands the moment they came out of their mothers' wombs.

To different degrees, all of them reject the precepts of this murderous state that tries to subdue them by force. Those whom they consider assassins in their uniforms and costumes and oppress them, are for them the main targets to be shot.

Yet, although she can more or less understand them, as these children, like their parents, go out one by one to face the military, Jane's eyes lose all hope when she sees that her group will not move.

Dylan, the B-rank physical Hanuman, whose strength far exceeds anyone else here, is the only one who seems a little troubled. He sighs with frustration and looks at Jane with regret.

"Little girl, the purpose of these soldiers is not to kill, in which case dozens of bloody bodies would already be lying on the pavement. No, they're here to kidnap children. More exactly, they want to forcefully conscript teenagers. After have conditioned these kids, they will then send them to join those already fighting on the front lines between the United States and Mexico.

You don't have to be blind to understand that despite all the fine promises made by the government, their recruitment propaganda is attracting less and less people from the lower classes.

The hatred of these people for all that represents power is such, that even the promise of becoming a citizen of this great country is no longer a dream, but on the contrary, has become the ultimate shame against which these people stand."

Jane painfully observes a child whose eyebrow arch has just been opened by a soldier's baton, but Cindy's hand grasping her wrist blocks her forward escape .

"If we intervene, we will save a few people, but what about the mission? By murdering this big death dealer, tens of thousands of lives will be saved. Think about it, Jane, and accept the fact that we're not the heroes you think we are."

"I get it." Jane's seems resigned but docile demeanor reassures Cindy. The young woman lets go of her wrist, but as soon as her fingers separate from Jane's arm, the little girl rushes forward.

Chapter end