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Locus Desperatus


Michael McBride

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"Five minutes to landing. Everyone please strap in." The Irish accent was unmistakable. Michael McBride remained standing. This was the only plane capable of trans-Atlantic travel the Irish Resistance was able to get their hands on, and it was packed to the brim with one hundred of his most elite fighters, all armed to the teeth. Michael didn't know much of what to expect when he arrived in what used to be Pravus Ingruo, but he wasn't going to be caught by surprise.

"Four minutes to Hero City International." Out the window, Michael could see the Hero City, could see Long Island, could see the barrenness that the country had turned a made the island. Once a wealthy residential area, Long Island had been turned into one of the most impenetrable military facilities in the world. But not anymore. Still, Michael knew if he was going to find the people he was looking for, they would be out there.

The plane bounced slightly when it landed. Once it slowed, it taxied to a hanger at the far end of the airport, away from all prying eyes in the terminal. In the hanger, a semi-truck and a number of smaller vehicles awaited. The men filed off the plane and into the waiting vehicles silently. They knew their mission: find the old leaders of Pravus Ingruo.

The full group drove out onto Long Island, leaving the Hero City in the background. Michael led the way. There was only one logical place to go.

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