Inktober 2024 - 3 - Boots

When Remor had first told Hedra what his plan was, she had thought he was insane, that living underground had finally gotten to him. It happens sometimes. No longer able to stand the dampness, or the semi-darkness, or the risk of cave-ins, some people just snap, despite the fact that this is all they have ever known. But Remor had seemed serious. More than that, he had had valid arguments to support his claim. When she had challenged him, he had produced a multitude of schematics riddled with elaborate equations which, upon examination, had checked out. So, she had trusted him.

Since the plan needed a very specific opportunity to be set in motion, they had not bothered with attempting to rally people to their cause. They could afford to take the time to put everything in place themselves. If it worked, then they could recruit helpers for the next round.

After labouring almost tirelessly for months, they finally have everything ready. Including the right conditions. What they needed was a gathering of soldiers above, and not in small numbers, either. Despite the fact that all they hear over their heads seems to be the constant stomping of boots on the ground, large groups of warriors are not easily located. And they don't usually stay standing in the same place for too long. But they are doing just that today.

Based on what Hedra and Remor can see through the tiny periscope they have slipped into a crack in the ceiling, at least two armies must be preparing their troops for a frontal assault. Maybe more than two; it's hard to keep track of all the players in this war. It has gotten so relentless that civilians are killed on sight by all involved in the conflict, leaving them no choice but to take refuge in tunnels. Who knows what those above ground are even fighting for, at this point. But maybe they don't have to find out. Maybe they can just put a stop to it…

As Remor presses a button, he keeps his eyes on Hedra. She gasps as his device, sitting between them, boots up. A terrible noise ensues, but the ceiling does not crumble like it usually does after a sound like that. She doesn't think she has heard any cries, but they might have been covered by the detonation.

They wait, for what seems to be an eternity but is just long enough for the dust to start settling. Then, they decide to emerge. That was the goal, after all: fight not an adversary but war itself, to finally be able to regain the surface.

Once their eyes have adjusted to the brightness of uninhibited sunlight, the couple discover what can only be described as a field of boots. They still have feet in them, and very few have even been knocked over by the blast. But everything above the ankle of the person who was wearing them a few moments ago has simply evaporated into thin air. Remor's weapon is quite literally a roaring success.