Breaking Point

Del stared down at his quaking hands. He clenched them into a fist and released, letting out a stuttered breath. He could feel his heart racing inside his chest, drumming so loudly he feared everyone could hear it. A sickening swirl of emotions churned inside him as that all too familiar bitter taste of bile rose its ugly head. He doubled over and vomited into the bucket between his feet, his fingers clutching the rough edges of the old plastic container as his stomach emptied itself until there was nothing left to purge from his body. He shuddered as his nerves spasmed, and dropped the bucket in response, letting it clatter and slosh loudly causing him to swing out to grab it before it toppled over. He growled that it dared defy him and righted it with a determined clunk.

How many nights was he going to keep doing this? Living in denial and lying to those closest to him. Was he the only one that felt this way?

He let out a groan as he roughly teased his hands through his hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. There had to be a way to make sense of these emotions. He pressed the base of his palms into his eye sockets in an attempt to dull the thudding rise of pain in his head.

A sudden flash of memories flickered through his synapses. Children were screaming, women crying out for mercy, the DeeBees looming ominously and that fateful order 'shoot to kill'.

"No!" He announced loudly to the empty room, thrusting himself to his feet at his decision. He couldn't allow himself to dwell on it anymore.

He grabbed the bucket and chucked the contents down the drain and dropped the container in the corner of the room. Unhooking his jacket from the peg, he struggled his arms through his sleeves, trying not to collide with the door at the same time. Leaving the room that had rapidly become his prison. He had to change something, make an effort to overcome the nightmares. He needed to breathe air that wasn't stifled by the stench of hypocrisy.

As he stumbled out of his door into a side street, his boots thumping heavily on the natural paving, he looked up at the buildings around him. Everything towered over him as a stark reminder of the mechanical control that created the home he now lived. He increased his pace, the need to get away from the suffocating sense of spiralling power now urging him. He quick marched down Main Street, his movement catching the attention of a patrol DeeBee.

"Greetings Citizen," the all too familiar friendly yet ruthlessly robotic tone caused him to flinch.

He took a couple of steps away and held his hand out to stop the approaching robot.

"Jus… Don't come any closer, okay,"

The DeeBee stared blankly back at him through teardrop shaped vision receptors, its cogs and springs clicking and whirring as it tried to process Del's demands.

"Are you in need of assistance citizen?"

"I'm fine," he barked back at it, "you can stand down. Just leave me alone."

He barged purposely past it, recoiling as its steel arm knocked hard against him. He balled his fists and shoved them into his pockets as he strode onwards.

"Have a good day citizen," the DeeBee chirped to his fleeing back.

Del cursed to himself, his constrained hate building each time he confronted another bot.

A familiar roar of laughter sounded from his local bar, the clink of glass and a welcoming buzz of chatter drew him closer to the doors. The lights dimly glimmered, and the music trilled vague tunes of yesteryear. The tempting need to be within its embracing confines, to be around the warmth of humankind like a need to survive. He gripped the door handle and pulled, the metal cold to touch as the rush of heat surged out to meet him. As he took a step inside, his eyes cast over the occupants of the of the room and his soul chilled.

The robotic being that stood behind the bar twisted to face him. Inside three other DeeBees stood watching the occupants of the tavern. Each one angled themselves to take note of him. Their motors whirring and clicking were loud enough to be heard over the din of the room.

"Good Evening, citizen, what can I get for you?" The bar droid chanted back at him.

Del shook his head abruptly, finding himself sidle back out towards to door, his feet slowly shuffling him away.

"No, no, no," he muttered to himself as his hands fumbled for the handle, how were these humans not seeing the looming oppression that controlled their every living moment.

He leaned back against the door, pressing himself slowly against it as it swung outwards under him. He staggered outside, his mind crying out for him to flee as he gave the street a cursory once-over. Everywhere he looked, everywhere he moved, something was watching him. They monitored his life, and there was no way to escape.

In a split second decision, his brain decided for him. He needed to see it for himself. He needed to cast his eyes upon a freedom he had never considered a possibility. Frantically he sprinted down the street, every pavement the same as the last. How was he going to get out when his home city was suffocating him from the inside out.

A DeeBee shuttle whirred past him, loaded with a troop of armed droids, each one swayed and jostled at the movement of the transport. Behind it a Watcher hovered, scanning the route as it went.

Del threw himself down an alley, pressing himself up against the wall. His heart thundered inside his chest as he shuffled himself further away from the troops.

"You need to stop acting so suspicious," he growled to himself, "there'll be no getting out of here otherwise."

As the shuttle drove down the Main Street, the droids disappearing from view, he shook his head.

"You also need to stop talking to yourself,"

Satisfied that they were no longer following him, he made his way to the service tunnels. He unhooked the hatch and prised it open; it slammed heavily behind him as he scaled the ladder downwards. He cast a glance around him into the darkness, his fingers tracing along the shaft to guide him, one step slowly in front of the other as his eyes started to adjust to the dimmed light around him. His footsteps splashed and echoed at each motion he made, adrenaline pushing him forward until he caught sight of movement.

He hesitated a moment, wishing he had some weapon to protect himself should he need it. As he edged slowly towards it, a light flickered on at his movement, revealing a large room filled with pistons and engines all oscillating in tandem with one another. He let out a breath; he seriously needed to calm his nerves if he was going to have the stomach to pull this off.

His next direction snaked from the engine room into another, his instincts telling him to keep following the tunnels until a light somewhere in the distance drove him onwards. Keep following the light. His pace picked up as his heart rate lifted, he was so close to freedom now, one step away from being rid of the oppressive world he was made to live.

Finally, the light came into view, refreshing, glistening, free. A metal grill blocked the exit. Freedom was tantalisingly close. Del clamped his hands over the crosshatched gateway, gripping the metal tightly as he shifted hard against it. He pushed, and he pushed, and he pulled for good measure. He rammed his shoulder against the grill, the grating kicking back at him at every attempt he made.

He let out a frustrated cry, his fists bashing at his only chance of freedom. So close and yet so ruthlessly far. Why couldn't they just let him have this moment, why couldn't they just allow him his escape?

He dropped to his haunches and leant against the metal framework, the fight slipping from him, his cheek pressed up to the grill in the hope of feeling the breath of freedom upon him. All to no avail.

He sat for a while longer, his hand wiggling in the gentle breeze, one arm crossed over his raised knees as he stared out into the forbidden outside world. His eyes cast over his hands, taking note of the raised hairs on his arm and then finally fixing upon the old do-rag knotted around his wrist. His lucky charm. Thoughtfully he drew his hand away to examine it, his fingers playing with the ties at the edge until his brain reached clarity.

He had been doing this all wrong.

What was he doing trying to run from a city that would have hunted him down the moment he stepped outside? Why was he doing this alone?

Finally reaching a decision he abruptly drew to a stand, bashing his head against the tunnel roof. He growled, rubbing his aching head and glancing back at the offending beam. Maybe he needed the sense knocked into him after all.

On his return to the city he had already worked out his next course of action, he was going to do it right this time.

The streets were silent, eerily so. It tried to lull him into a false sense of security when he knew they were watching him. Of course, they were always watching. Waiting for him to make that mistake. They knew his attempts were futile.

He let out a final breath, cracking his knuckles against his palms and strode determinedly towards the Officers living quarters. The patrol DeeBee momentarily stopped as he passed.

"Citizen, it is..."

Del whirled round, "Don't even."

The DeeBee silenced as Del turned and continued on his way.

The Officer Quarters were quiet for a change. Usually, the sound of chatter rushed out to him each time he pulled the door open. But now, all he could hear was his footsteps and his laboured breathing. He slowed his pace, taking in the empty rooms as he progressed further into the building. Eventually, he reached his destination. The door hung wide open to reveal a set of benches laden with armour and weaponry. Amongst it sat his Lieutenant and childhood friend, his back to him as he pondered his process. Del watched as he rubbed at his dirty blond hair in thought before connecting one part of the Lancer into another.

"You know you can come in, right?" he announced as he rethreaded the chainsaw back onto the weapon.

"How did you?.."

JD Fenix half-twisted to send Del a look, "seriously?"

Del let out a reluctant sigh as he entered the room and planted himself beside him. The bench creaked under their combined weight. He wrung his hands together as he rested his elbows on his lap. JD continued assembling the Lancer, patiently giving Del his space. They sat in silence for a long while, Del working out the words in his head while JD took apart and reassembled the weapons until eventually he turned decisively and took a breath.

"Settlement two," he begin, the hitch in his friend's breath made him realise that maybe he hadn't been alone after all, "I can't in all good conscience keep doing this."

"And your issue?" JD worked hard to keep any tell of emotion from his voice.

"I can't close my eyes without seeing those DeeBees, hearing those families screaming. Watching those droids mow them down as if they were nothing but cannon fodder. People, man, those droids murdered actual living people, and we just stood and watched,"

"You know that's not true,"

"We didn't stop it," he rubbed his hands over his face, trying to push away the rising sense of repulsion, "I can't keep doing this, it's killing me."

"Del?" JD turned now to face him. One leg straddled the bench to give his friend his undivided attention.

"They're everywhere, those droids, I can't walk down a street without those watchers planning out the route for me. I can't stay here knowing that those things could turn on any one of us at any moment,"

"And your suggestion?" JD's patient blue eyes fixed upon him.

"I wanna get out, I need to get out," he gesticulated to the room around them, "this place, those droids will destroy us if we stay here."

JD thoughtfully nodded, the cogs in his head whirring as he deliberated his next move.

"Look JD I'm not asking you to..."

JD fixed him with a look that silenced him, "why would I consider anything else? You and I are in this together."

Author's Note -

Just a short one-shot that had been bouncing around my head. I've always been curious about what happened at Settlement Two, and whilst I haven't explained it I instead looked at the effect it could have on Del and the reasoning behind why they left the COG.

Meanwhile, I'm midway through early drafts of my next giant creation, difficult writing something centred around Gears 4 when you don't know the direction they are planning on going so I'm having to develop my own journey for these characters. But it'll be worth the wait, I promise. I am also working on Eli's version of the events of Gears 3, but this developing at a slower rate as my priority has gone on the Gears 4 centric creation. Work work everywhere. But patience will be fruitful in the end.