With the president safely extracted and on his way to the White House, we continued our push through the bank to finish off the Hyenas. I can still sense some tension between Sarah and Faye. Even in New York, they often didn't see eye-to-eye...so to speak, with Faye always trying to be professional and by the book, and Sarah the realist, understanding that it isn't always necessary. Now that all of us will be working together constantly, hopefully they can put that rivalry aside.
I honestly sympathise with Sarah. Faye dragged the eight of us all the way down here, to a city that almost seems beyond repair with no real idea of what we'd be getting into. Yet at the same time, Faye is right, too. This mission is now more important than everything we've done so far. Even saving The Big Apple and the rest of the world from the Dollar Flu doesn't top this. While the world has been recovering, it's essentially leaderless. The United States has always been a world leader in the past, with other countries sometimes coming to us for advice and aid with handling some calamity or another. Without the President, who will they turn to? Who will we turn to?
"Okay…" Faye says, pulling me from my thoughts. "Through this courtyard should be the exit. It's time we got out of here."
"One of the Hyenas back there mentioned another head honcho on his way." Jay reminds us. "Some guy they call Rebound. He might be out there."
"We'll deal with him if we have to." Sarah replies. "We took out Roach. I doubt any more of these idiots are as tough as him."
Meanwhile…
The National Museum of the American Indian
East Mall
Dima
*INTERCEPTING TRUE SONS RADIO TRANSMISSION*
"What could be so hard about it?" My earpiece crackles. "It's a water pump, not a jet engine."
"You try it…. See? Not so easy, is it?"
"It's harder than it looks I'll give you that. But we have our orders: Guard this place until we get the pumps working."
"Step aside. Let me have another shot."
"Pff. Knock yourself out."
Always so straight forward, these Americans. Back home, the Russian government either made up a cover story or just denied anything was happening. It's unusual to see how transparent this country and it's soldiers, even former ones, are.
I push the musings aside as I enter the museum. Dedicated to the Native Americans, it must have been quite beautiful at one point. Now, it looks like the rest of the city; overgrown, overrun, on the verge of collapse. Climbing up to the second floor, I find a small group of True Sons guarding what looks like a maintenance room. Two of them appear to be sharing a canteen between themselves.
"How much you have left?" One asks.
"This is it." The other replies as she passes the canteen. "At least until those two geniuses get the pumps going."
"Shit." The True Son mutters as he shakes the can, looking disappointed at how little water they have left. "And here I am, sweating standing still."
"Like a whore in church." His comrade says with a chuckle.
"It sounds like you speak from experience, Matthews." One of the other men jeers.
"Fuck off, Vinny." She calls back as the others share a laugh.
"Nearly there, Dima?" Odessa's voice crackles in my ear. "I think it goes without saying how important this mission is to all parties involved. The True Sons are just as desperate for resources as we are. I can guarantee that they'll put up a serious fight to stop you, but you look to me like you can take 'em, at least if what you said about New York is true. Get it done. Theater out."
JTF Base of Operations
White House
South Lawn Entrance
Miller
"How are they?" Finnigan asks with an expression of concern as Upton approaches. I hand off the cigarette I've been sharing with Lazka, one of the few JTF still here. She accepts it as Upton takes off a pair of bloody rubber gloves.
"They've seen better days," He says tiredly. "But they'll live."
"Good." Lazka says, one of the first few words I've heard her say. She appears to be in a state of something beyond tired. Beyond exhaustion. These JTF have been stretched, pushed and beaten to their very limits, without any form of rest since the start of the outbreak. On constant high alert, they've been guarding the shell of a base with a skeleton crew of a skeleton crew since the evacuation a little over a year ago. A Civilian Militia rose up from the JTF's ashes, a team of which we're on a supply run when they got jumped by a group they called 'Outcasts'.
"Who attacked them again?" Finnigan questions, adjusting his shades.
"The Outcasts." Lazka pipes up again.
"Manny told us about them." I add. "The folks from the quarantine at Roosevelt Island."
"Yeah, but it ain't that simple." There's a slight southern twang to the voice belonging to the Guardsman at my side. "They weren't exactly told politely to go there."
"But it's a quarantine." Finnigan points out, always the naive one of us. "Having their permission shouldn't really be a concern."
"Quite a few of 'em weren't sick." Lazka says rather coldly, shaking off some ashes. "The entire thing was...unlawful to say the least. The JTF garrison there was under the command of Colonel Antwon Ridgeway. That name ring any bells?"
"The True Sons." Upton says with realization.
The thin young woman nods her head, passing the cigarette back. "His group was unsatisfied with how the quarantine of the island and the city were bein' handled. He gained a bit of a cult following and then he and his up and left. The people there revolted and broke out, but I wouldn't sympathise. They're the biggest wackos in this whole nuthouse; vowin' to 'Take revenge on those who did this.'"
"How do they do that?" Finnigan asks with a worried tone.
Lazka takes a breath. "Some of 'em are carriers. Infected. They spread it to unsuspectin' victims by posin' as homeless drifters and get taken in by civvi settlements." She brushes away some wisps of jet-black hair clinging her face. "One, by one that's how the smaller settlements and control points fell on the west side of town." Lazka looks down at her worn out, unlaced boots and filthy trousers. "I was at one of 'em." She mutters. "...one….by one…."
World Bank HQ
Overlooking the West Courtyard
Third Floor
Rocket
"Emily would like this one." I think to myself, scooping up a small stuffed dog from a long abandoned bed roll. Short brown 'fur' with a silky fabric under the floppy ears. All the stuffing beads are missing from one of the arms, likely where the previous owner would carry their little friend.
"From the looks of this place, your companion won't be coming back." I say to the dog, rubbing the top of it's head with my thumb. "Not to worry though. I know someone who will love you just as much as they did."
As I gently push the dog into my pack, more gunfire comes from the other side of the building. This time though, it sounds closer.
"More? Who could still be here? Scavvers? Clearly the Hyenas haven't scared them off."
I stand and move to one of the hall windows. Through a few of the broken panes I see several Hyenas flood the courtyard, one appearing to be toting a steel riot shield, pinning down a small group of people. One looks like she's from the JTF, maybe a True Son. The two groups have been at each others throats lately.
However, that thought vanishes as I notice a patch on one of her comrades shoulders. While worn and faded, with a symbol I can't quite make out, the layout is unmistakable. Even more so when I look down at my own.
A sudden wave of rage fills my body as my fingers wrap around the handle of my machete.
*ALERT* ISAC suddenly chirps. *INCOMING BACKUP REQUEST*
World Bank HQ
West Courtyard
Sarah
"Holy shit! Look at 'em all!"
"MGs on the balcony!"
"They're pushing up on the left!"
"Oh my God….we're all going to die…"
Looking around, I see our offensive line completely collapsing. Off to the left, Kelly sits down hugging her rifle. Faye kneels next to her, pushing her further into cover and blind-firing at our attackers. At my side, Jay tries to return fire, but keeps getting forced back down by a sniper somewhere further ahead.
Suddenly, in a lapse of the gunfire, a window somewhere nearby shatters, followed by a loud war cry. I peek up to see a colossal man land on the balcony behind the machine gunners, quickly standing up and stabbing one of them with a large machete. The other jumps in surprise and scrambles to redirect his weapon. Our new helper uses the first Hyena as a human shield, letting the other finish him off. Dispatching both gunners, the man stows his blade and jumps off the balcony, switching to an MP5 and opening up on Rebound.
This catches everyone in the courtyard off guard, and Jay is the first to jump on the opportunity, finally silencing the sniper she had been dueling with earlier. I rise next, blasting the Hyenas trying to protect Rebound. The Hyena leader starts to panic, unable to deflect the incoming rounds from the Agents beginning to surround him. Our new friend appears to have had enough, taking hold of Rebound's riot shield and ripping it from his grasp, taking his blade out again and swiftly hacking off Rebound's head. The Hyena boss finally falls back lifelessly, and we emerge from cover one by one.
While the others gawk, I chance an approach with our unexpected help. Slinging my SAW in it's usual fashion, I step over a few Hyena bodies towards him.
"Thanks for that." I speak up, getting his attention. The man turning reveals an orange glow coming from his wrist, and the sheer size of him. Easily over a foot taller than me, with the rolled sleeves of his button-up shirt barely holding back his massive arms.
"Don't mention it." He replies with a soft smile, glancing around at the destruction he caused. "Well actually, it's already too late."
"Wow." I hear Jay's voice behind me. "And I thought I made you look short." I roll my eyes at the comment.
"Thanks for the help, Agent." Faye follows up. I look back to see her helping Kelly to her feet.
"It was no trouble." The man says modestly. "Oh! Where are my manners? I'm Roxwell, or very affectionately named 'Rocket' by Manny."
"He told us about you." I say. "I'm Sarah, or 'Dove' if we're going by codenames. This is Jay, or 'Nomad', my partner. Over there is Faye, or 'Phoenix'. And with her is Kelly, from the JTF deployment in Manhattan."
"Manhattan?" Roxwell asks with surprise. "You're a long way from home, kid."
"We all are." Faye pipes up. "That's where we're all from."
"So the four of you came all this way just to pick a fight with the Hyenas?"
"Eight, actually." Kelly says, still shaking off the shell-shock from the firefight. "Three of my men are back at the White House, and one more Agent, Dima, or 'Wolf', went to the Theater to help Odessa."
"That's quite the family road trip." Roxwell muses, his eyes curiously darting to each one of us. "Did you pick D.C. for any particular reason? Other than the Blackout, of course."
"It's...kind of a long story." I say with a tired tone.
"No problem. We can walk and talk." Roxwell says, guiding us towards the exit. "In fact, I know just the place to go."
A/N I've been wanting to post this for quite a while, but there is such a thing as schedules, sooo... Yes, this chapter has several perspective changes, so...sorry if it's a bit confusing. Roxwell, or 'Rocket' as Manny has named him is a character created by The-Story-Man1. If you're into Sci-Fi stories, look him up! Thank you, sir. I hope I do him justice, and let me know if there's anything you don't like. Expect more ferocity towards foes and kindness towards friends from our new friend Roxwell. The stuffed dog he finds is real, and is actually a childhood toy of mine that I still own...and sometimes sleep with.
Anywho! Thanks for sticking around, everyone who still is anyway. And speaking of, if anyone plays either Division game on Xbox One, hit me up! I'm always down to play, real life permitting. Send me a message either here or on Live at zdrfanta17. See you out there, Agents!