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Sender's address: Quadrant 18A2, Floor 34, Room 205.
Receiver's address: Quadrant 54B9, Floor 87, Room 14.
Date: 16/3/22,539
Subject: A story
As you requested of me, I have compiled for you a part of a tale I am working on, which was based on the documents that were sent to me by our superiors. Hopefully, the standards that are expected of me have been reached, and I have hopefully successfully satisfied the quota which is required for the publishing of a short story in the Overseer's most recent compendium.
Do reply to me soon, preferably using the same method which I have sent the work to you with. All criticism of my work is noted and appreciated, and it is my wish that you are as honest as you possibly can be with your analysis.
Thank you.
H39DAS-49LLWP
Three raps on the door, a brief pause, and then two more. This was the secret code which the players of the forbidden game used to differentiate themselves from possible intruders, threats, or the authority itself. Ever since the ban on the ancient game of 'football' had taken place, underground groups had assembled themselves in secrecy to continue playing it, despite the fact that the law now prohibited it. Whether out of true love for the simple game they now treated as creed and religion, or in utter defiance of those above them, the team had continued to operate, persisting in a world of light in the shadows of the righteous.
The captain went to the heavy iron gate, pulling it open with brutish strength not seen in the orderly society he was a deject from. He greeted the man before him, another delinquent who formed part of the team, and let him inside of their hidey hole dug deep into the ground in the slums of the great city. He slammed the door shut behind him — causing dust to fall off of the ceiling — as he followed his teammate down the earthen corridor he had just entered through. Both of them were silent the whole walk through, keeping noiselessness the best they could to prevent anyone outside of the walls from overhearing their operation.
Eventually, after going through the twists and turns of the underground labyrinth for minutes on end, they arrived at another door, this time made of oak wood, a material which in that day and age was renown for its scarcity. The team did not care for this however, for they did not consider the implications of the uses of a material such as oak in their endeavours. They cared only about their own selfish desires.
The captain pushed the door to the right, and motioned for his crewmate to follow him into the room the door opened up. As the duo entered the room, they were greeted with cheers from their fellow teammates which reverberated throughout the halls.
"Long live the good Soren," one of them, a woman named Makenna, shouted. "He has made it back to our abode alive and well, and he shall continue to play the game for evermore! Three cheers for Soren and the good captain!"
Three cheers, organized and distant from the dissonant and barbaric screaming that had previously been heard. The captain waited for the crowd to halt their celebration, as he stared at his teammate, Soren, with a light smile on his face. As the cheering quietened down, the captain cleared his throat, signalling to the rest of his team — a group of vagrants just like him — to listen to what he was to say.
"My fellow players," he began. "Whilst we are all glad that our friend Soren has made it back to us in good condition, I would like to remind you all of the implications of the jeopardization of one of our players. Our operations are no longer as hidden from the public as we thought them to be, and those that wish to suppress us have begun their targeting of our men."
Jeers erupted from the team at the mention of the authority. The captain thought to himself that should these people get their hands on their oppressors, they would tear them to shreds with their hands. He knew this to be fact because he himself would've done the same given the chance.
"Yes, unfortunate as it is, we are now enemies of the public. Our safety is now something we must no longer take for granted, and our game's secrecy is now to be kept with more delicateness and care than we have shown it up until now. But that does not mean we are not to enjoy playing the game, rather, we shall enjoy it more knowing that our latest precautions will ensure that we are not made sitting ducks to the authority's reaches…"
Silence overtook the crowd as all movements stopped. The captain flashed a brilliant smile towards his crewmates as he reached into a satchel he held at his side. The gathering watched in bewilderment when the captain pulled a large sheet of paper from the satchel which was rolled up. He threw it onto the table, unravelling it for all to see, revealing a large drawing of one of the stadiums which they typically played in. Everyone stared at the schematics in confusion, awaiting their captain to give them the explanation they so desperately needed to understand the contents of the paper.
"Cap," one of them began. "Forgive me for clarifying, but last I remember we're doing summin' illegal here. How'd you expect us to build a stadium without being caught?"
The captain smiled. "Well, see… it's already built."
Silence. The group members stood in awe, awaiting further elaboration.
Let me explain. We operate underground, our meetings are held underground, we practically live //underground. The only times we leave this place are to get the resources we use, and of course, to play our sacred game.