"Damn key's acting up again." Jane muttered her annoyances under her breath as she jangled the key around in the door. She glanced down at her watch; she was already running late - her apartment was chosen for a random search by the militia, and on the worst day possible, nonetheless - and if she missed the others at the meeting point, the whole operation could be royally screwed. Finally, the lock clicked into place. Whenever there was an execution, scarcely would you find people outside the square. Even with that knowledge, Jane wouldn't take the chance of leaving her apartment unlocked.<br/><br/>The steps crunched underneath her feet as she jogged down to the first level, her little shop. All of the lights were off, lending a foreboding atmosphere to the interior. If compared to the rest of the building, the shop looked out of place - and that's because it was. Before the city went to shit -<i>long </i>before Jane came to be - the building was a library, hence the high ceiling and tall shelves. As the city was "renovated", they destroyed most of it and slapped other things onto it. Shops, apartments, offices on the higher levels - it was as if the contractors were children building with blocks, except these blocks were made of cold, uninviting steel. Jane liked to think that her shop was a little glimpse into the past, when the sky was hopeful and blue, and when people weren't afraid to look each other in the eye. Or, at least that's what she'd heard it was like.<br/><br/>"I'll be right back," she said, to no one in particular. Normally, she'd have Vince look after the shop while she was gone, but he was probably already at the execution. Hopefully she wouldn't bump into him. She didn't need other people knowing she was a rebel, as it would only put them in more danger. Chances were, even if she did bump into him, he wouldn't recognize her; her dark grey trench was pulled up to cover the lower half of her face, and the hoodie she wore underneath would cast a shadow over the rest.<br/><br/>Throwing her hood over her head, Jane stepped outside and breathed in the grimy air of the lower level. At least, where she was located, close to the center of the city, it wasn't as bad as it was on the outskirts, but even here, the cracked cobblestone floors offered untrustworthy footing, the rain sent dirt and other questionable litter rushing down the street, and there were a slew of shady figures to avoid at all costs. None of it fazed her anymore, though, and she took off, head down, half-running as she slipped into an alley.<br/><br/>Dome's alleys were like mazes. Each passage was tight and winding, almost like they were carved out of the looming structures. To those who knew them, the alleys were useful. To those who didn't, they were dangerous. Jane knew them like the back of her hand, as she often used them to run messages back and forth. This particular route took her right to the edge of the market, behind a row of vendors, where the group was supposed to meet. Only one of them was there, a tall figure carrying an umbrella, smoking a cigarette. As Jane approached him from behind, he paid no attention to her. Standard procedure.<br/><br/>"Mind giving me a light?" she asked, pulling her own pack of cigarettes from a pocket at her chest.<br/><br/>"You're late," he said, passing her the lighter, and along with it, a slip of paper. "Be a shame if you'd missed such a lovely hanging."<br/><br/>"It would be a shame. The militia stopped by and I had to give them a tour, but I made it here." She read the paper as she used the lighter in the same hand. The message read, "T's on lookout, you distract." Jane took a drag and sighed. So she<i>was </i>late. So much so that they switched her role for the day. She made a much better lookout than a decoy, but if it meant saving an ally, she'd do whatever was necessary.<br/><br/>"Find Thomas in the crowd, I'm sure he can point you to a good spot."<br/><br/>"Will do." Jane stepped out of the alleyway and into the crowd, walking around a few vendors and their carts. Whatever they were selling would probably make anyone sick, no matter how accustomed their stomachs had grown to the food in the city. She passed by another who was selling keychains and necklaces with hanging men on them. The thought that someone would want to profit from someone else's murder made her grimace, and on any other occasion, she would've chastised the man for owning such a cart, but before she could dwell on it for too long, her attention was drawn to a woman in full militia uniform, guiding a man with his hot dog cart into the square. Jane shook her head. The militia were all the same. Never too busy to stop and intimidate the common folk.<i>But damn are they intimidating</i>, she thought to herself, doing a slight double-take before turning her attention back to spotting Thomas in the crowd. From where she was, she could already see the elevated platform where a figure was being led to stand, and rope was being secured around his neck. Jane put a little more pep in her step - they didn't have much time.