Jane saw Thomas before he saw her. He was dressed in similar garb, with a backpack slung across his shoulder. The strap clung to his chest, close enough to allow a quick escape if necessary. A pair of binoculars hung at his waist, swinging as if they'd just been let go a second ago and left to dangle.<i>He saw something</i>.<br/><br/>"Any idea where the best view is?" she asked, nodding to him. She kept a look of casual interest on her face, though on the inside, she was concerned. In anything went wrong today -<i>anything</i>- Connor would be dead.<br/><br/>Thomas nodded back and pointed to a place closer to the stage, where a tall, distinct figure was standing. Everyone in Dome, civilian or otherwise, knew who that man was. Victor Lavonne. Jane had never met him in person, but she'd seen his scarred face and heard his voice, more than enough to send shivers down her spine. This was a man who took pleasure in oppressing other people, who could torture and kill, then somehow sleep peacefully at night. Lavonne disgusted her just as intensely as he frightened her.<br/><br/>"There's a spot over there," Thomas said, "but it's a bit overcrowded. There's a better point on the other side of the stage."<i>Avoid him at all costs</i>, he really meant to say. What he had seen through the binoculars, but hadn't mentioned to Jane, was that Ari had been at that exact same spot before Victor showed up, but she was nowhere to be found. How and to where she disappeared were beyond his field of view. "Hold my bag for me, will you?" he continued, un-slinging his backpack and handing it to her. Jane took it and threw it over her shoulder.<br/><br/>The previous night, Tom had stocked the bag with a red flare and smoke grenades, part of a plan to create a coordinated disturbance, so that the rest of the group would be able to rush in, sever the rope if necessary, and escort Connor away. There were two other rebels equipped with the same tools. Ari had been one of them, but it appeared that she was gone - no doubt the result of Victor's appearance. Now, Jane had to cover for Thomas and compensate for Ari. Things were looking riskier than they should.<br/><br/>"Today, citizens of Dome, stands before you a prisoner," a voice announced. The execution was beginning. A lanky, grim-looking man was pacing across the stage, shooting dirty glances at the condemned rebel as he addressed the crowd. "This prisoner is not a man, but an example of insubordinate filth, a disgrace-,"<br/><br/>Jane weaved her way through the audience as the announcements continued, mumbling a few "sorry's" here and there when shoulders knocked into other shoulders. Once she had moved into position, close to the platform, she looked up at Connor, pulling her hood back a bit before making brief eye contact. "We've got you," she mouthed. She saw his brows furrow together, a sort of determined look that moved over his face, and she could only hope that she'd succeeded in reassuring him.<br/><br/>Jane looked across the audience once more, waiting for a signal. Since she had been late, she wasn't in the place to make the first move, so she waited for what seemed like an eternity. Her blood was hot with adrenaline; rebelling against injustice always set her alight. Just having the internal knowledge that she was willing to stand up and take action while others idly watched was enough to fill her with a sense of righteousness that cleansed her spirit. Jane found that after every act of rebellion, whether loud or quiet, she was able to breathe more easily.<br/><br/>Like clockwork, the signal came in the form of loud popping noise, followed by a red flare soaring into the sky. No, not quite the sky - it would take a powerful weapon to shoot anything that cleared the city skyscrapers - rather, the flare went up, flashing and spinning, sending beams of red light to reflect off of the dark grey walls. Regardless of how high it flew, the light served it's purpose, directing the attention of the audience up and creating an opening for Jane to play her part. Reaching behind her, Jane unzipped the back pocket of the bag and tossed three smoke grenades onto the ground. No one paid her any mind, and she feigned surprise, hopping away from the metal canisters while they hissed and steamed, as if they hadn't fallen from her own backpack.<br/><br/>"Poison gas!" she shouted, pointing at the ground as a cloud of pale-yellow fog began rising. The smoke, of course, was completely harmless, but they didn't need to know that. The ambiguity of the situation alone was enough to make people want to scurry away, and they did.<br/><br/>Jane took off in a random direction, knocking and shoving anyone in her way, prodding them to run faster, creating as much commotion as she could. It wasn't hard to do in such a city, where undertones of fear and paranoia followed every social event and interaction. Audience members cooperated, shouting and shoving as she had wanted. Somewhere, another cloud of of smoke was rising, and people began moving in the opposite direction, against the current of already-moving bodies. It wasn't long before Jane set off her own flare, pointing it at the ground. It landed with a satisfying bang and skittered across the stone, flashing at running feet.<br/><br/>Hopefully, the confusion was enough to allow her companions to attend to Connor, but Jane was beginning to worry about something else.<i>Where is Victor in all of this?</i>The thought of being apprehended by him - or by any militia officer, for that matter - sent another chill down her spine. Jane's stomach dropped, and she took off for the alleyways, without looking over her shoulder.