Spain Catalonia, Mid March, 1937.

It was a light drizzle outside. It had been raining for a week straight, and was briefly letting up for now. Silva, unlike Herman, who was currently off planning, did not like the rain. He found it torturous, really. He liked the sunshine more.

Silva isn't really special in this regard, so, we find him walking through the streets and cursing the fact that he has to step in puddles. He has been doing this all day, and all day yesterday, and towards the end of the day before. After this visit, he will not even be done. He'll have to do more tomorrow, too.

He knocks on the door to the Union meetinghouse. It's opened up. "You are Silva, yes?"

"Yes, that happens to be me."

"Ah, come in, come in."

Silva is shown in out of the rain to a warm room. There are some drinks and cups in a corner, and some chairs, enough to accommodate the whole Union if some people were willing to stand, or, I guess, sit on each other's laps. It was currently just Union leadership, however, averting that possibility. Well, actually, gossip around the workplace was that Remy and Eduardo wouldn't be opposed to that arrangement, but they weren't here right now.

Silva delivered the news of the coming General Strike, along with information on the tactics to be involved, and this Union's place in the actions. The date would be in Late August.

"We will be providing support to the Syndicates the whole time, and will be deploying paramilitants to help protect the striking workers. Is six months enough to prepare, everyone?"

"It's more like five and a half."

"Sure, five and a half months. Is that okay?"

"We'll bring it up at the next Syndicate meeting. The SWF is doing good work, by the way."

Silva nods. "We're merely working for the good of the working class."

"Yes. Good work."

Silva smiles. "See you when the day comes, comrades."