Trigger Warning: Chapter contains panic-attacks and mentions of PTSD
Dutch's map of Hope County took up nearly a whole wall.
It was amazing to stare at; a huge land-mass criss-crossed by rivers and railways and hills, like some kind of strange vascular system that belonged to an undiscovered animal.
Rook felt her eyes prick with tears – the strongest indication that she'd already been staring at it for too long. She leant back against the cold bunker wall; the table she was splayed about on, cross-legged, was hard and uncomfortable. But then again, she was the one that chose to perch there. Dutch sat opposite her, leg crossed gauntly as he scribbled down what she'd been telling him in his notebook. She liked seeing Dutch. There was something about the guy that always put her at ease. He had the spirited, encouraging face of a grandpa or kind uncle, who despite the evident wear and tear over the years - shown in his many wrinkles and dark bags under the eyes - still kept the same sparky, determined energy that all young men had once. Her reminded her of Earl. It was a shame that the prepper before her rarely agreed with her boss, unless the conversation topic was on Peggies.
"So there's no new convoys going about that need reporting?", his gravelly voice disturbed her from her thoughts.
"None. We took the Death Wish past the Golden Valley Gas, past the Autoshop, to the farms and even as far as trailing the river on foot. There's nothing". Dutch grunted, sending her a nod as the scratching sound of pencil marking paper kept her focussed on the matter at hand. He knew, she knew. There was something off about this. Returning to Dutch's bunker had been to find some peace of mind, some clarity, and some space from the Resistance's ever-needy radio calls for her assistance. Dep knew, more than anyone else, that help should be given to those who needed it. But sometimes, like today, she couldn't give them what they needed. Dutch had suggested the visit, "Give ya some time to think. We can talk. I'll make coffee – it don't taste too shit with milk in – and ya can tell me all the news. Let someone else worry about the cult for a few hours". Dep had been all too happy to oblige.
"Whaddya think's going on?", her eyes darted towards the giant map of the county once more. Dutch leaned back, sighing as he went, and scratched at his balding scalp. Sometimes she wondered if that was how he lost his hair to begin with.
"Kid, if I knew I sure as hell woulda told you".
"I know", Dep muttered, her head returning to its original thoughts. Something had been weighing heavy on her mind for the last few days, something she had been careful to repress and ignore, but now was clawing its way out of her mouth. "Dutch? Can I ask you something?", his head tilted upwards at the mention of his name.
"Sure, kid. As long it's not where babies come from". Dep rolled her eyes so hard she thought they were nearly gonna pop outta her head.
"God, you even make dad jokes!?", her fingers grabbed an eraser on the desk next to her. Dutch chuckled as the projectile soared past his left ear, smacking into the wall behind him. "Anyway, this is something more serious than bliss convoys".
"What is it?", Dutch leaned forward, the report he'd been holding laid forgotten at his feet. Dep chewed her lip, searching her brain for the right words. The momentary laughter had fizzled out quickly.
"What do you know about Jacob Seed?". A wave of nervousness rose up in her as she spoke. She turned her eyes away from Dutch's surprised expression and over to one of the four posters hanging up on the wall. The grizzled face of the cult's General stared back at her.
"I'm guessin' you didn't just come here for pleasantries, then", Dutch shifted his chair closer, the metal scraping against the bunker floor. "Well, aside from my home-made dossier, which you've read about five times already, there weren't much else I could tell ya". Dep's shoulders slouched. "Why the sudden interest anyway, kid?".
"Ever since a few weeks ago, more and more reports of Chosen have been coming in", Dep met Dutch's eyes. The man leaned forward, intrigue glinting out from behind his glasses. "At first there were only small sightings: they'd been driving around the roads in trucks, boats on the Henbane were seen. At first we thought they were just trying to oversee all the stuff the cult were up to-"
"Like movin' bliss, that sorta shit?"
"Exactly", Dep nodded. "But give or take a few days, they started scouting. Old warehouses were broken into, factories were ransacked, people's bunkers were opened with welders and turned upside down. I'm certain as to what they were up to"
"What?", Dutch's gruff voice cut through the room. She shot him an annoyed stare. "Sorry, patience. I know. I'll be quiet". He held up his hands apologetically. Dep's hands played around with the loop on her belt.
"They didn't take anything". Dutch eyed her, chewing on his pencil intently. He sometimes got through a whole set of stationary before he'd stop pondering. Dep could relate, except for her it was a packet of cigarettes. They were two peas in a pod. "Usually when the Peggies go searching through shit, it's for someone's hard-to-reach stash that they've hidden in a cave or at the top of a barn. But the Chosen didn't stick around long enough to take jack. I think they're after someone", the more she spoke the more she felt the prickled, icy chill creeping up her spine. It was warm in the bunker, almost too warm, and yet cold, sweaty shivers were crawling all over her. Saying it out loud, admitting that something unknown and dangerous was creeping around Hope County like a predator in the night, made Dep's fingers tremble. They instinctively reached inside her jacket pocket, clasping tightly around her lighter.
"I don't need you", she mumbled, trying to refrain by staring at Dutch instead, ignoring the instinctive desire for that kick of nicotine.
"Do you know who it is?", he levelled her with a concerned look. Dep wavered, answering for herself. Her fingers squeezed the packet of cigarettes like a stress ball. Dutch slouched back in his chair. "Christ, kid". She nodded, biting her fingernail anxiously. It was near impossible to hide your true intentions from Dutch – he always had a way of reading everyone like an open book. Dutch's chair squeaked backwards, heaving himself up with a sigh and settled next to Dep on the table.
"And you think he's coming after you?". She didn't bother withholding her nod. "Have there been radio calls? Has he been putting up posters?"
"If you're asking for proof, I heard it myself. Dutch, I heard it. And no, aside from my already lovely convict pictures there aren't any more wanted posters", the sarcasm dripped from her voice. It was her shield, to hide how stressed this was really making her. The wanted posters were no joke either; ever since she was a kid she'd seen stuff in the local news, wondering what criminals would feel like having their names and faces shown for all to see. Sharky had one, but he kept a copy of it taped to his bedroom wall so he saw it every time he woke up. He showed it off like a trophy. Seeing her own face blazed across the county, stapled to buildings, taped to car bonnets and nailed to lampposts, Dep felt like a hunted animal.
"What's this proof then?". He perched on the desk next to her, hands behind his back and scanned her for answers.
"You heard I got Lorna back?"
"Yeah, I heard about her. Tough old girl", a smile cracked on Dutch's face. Something warm and cushy melted into his features. "I knew her back in the day, when me, my son and his family would go fishing down at the marina".
"You got a soft spot for her?", one eyebrow raised cheekily at Dutch. Her sent her a glare, mock-anger evident, but clearly fake.
"Don't get snarky with me, missy. I know she's not into men, but that don't mean I can't… admire her", a misty, faraway look entered Dutch's eyes. A stark contrast to the usually stoic, level-headed demeanour he possessed. Dep didn't know Dutch had his old fancies.
"Mhm", Dep's hum was laced with mischief. "Suuure". A hand swatted at her. She let out a squeal and shoved him backwards, nearly falling off the desk.
"Watch out. I don't wanna explain to Earl how his star-employee broke her back on my floor", he chuckled as Dep scrabbled for purchase, pulling herself back upright.
"Okay, okay. I'll get back to the point", she shook her head impatiently, smile waning. "While I was watching the Truck Stop, looking for a way in, I saw two Chosen escort one of Faith's little groupies. They were talking about me, saying how Jacob's been sending his bruisers into the Valley to try and… I don't know, keep tabs on me or some shit".
"Sounds like you pissed him off big time", Dutch observed, going back to his pencil. "John already nabbed you once, and you've met Faith in that drugged-up garden place. Maybe he thinks it's his turn to take his pound of flesh?"
"Let's hope that's all he wants. Grace thinks we bit off more than we can chew when we sent the Cook to kingdom come, but I…", she trailed off. Her hands fisted inside her jacket pockets, nervously reaching around for her vice. She let out a deep breath, imagining the smell of smoke. The sensation washed over her, steadying her rising heartbeat. "But I think he's planning something". Dutch eyed her warily, the shadow of a frown gracing his lips.
"And do you know what it is?". Her head shook anxiously.
"No. I don't have a clue, but I know it ain't good. Dutch, I'm telling you this cause I think something big's going down. Remember the last big meeting we all had?"
"Fall's End? When you saw all four Seeds having a midnight meetup?"
"That's the one. Nothing seemed to come of it, remember? But now all of a sudden, there's Chosen everywhere. I called Tracy to ask her for a status update, she says the Angels are reducing in numbers; work on the bliss fields is going slack. The people we assigned to monitor the Seeds have said they're staying inside mostly, hiding in their bunkers and shit. They're not coming out much, but there's heavily armed guards placed at every outpost, and there's only glimpses of them carrying out meetings with their higher-ups. What does that tell you?"
"That they're increasing security?", Dutch shrugged casually, but the uncertainty was clear in his voice. "Listen, kid. I get that you're paranoid – trust me, I live in a bunker for Christ's sake – but I think this might just be too much nerves-"
"I'm not bullshitting you". Dep's eyes hardened. There was no aggression in her manner, but the determination was evident. She straightened up, pointing towards the huge Hope County map on the wall to their left. "Something bad's happening, and it's not just cause we may have finally pushed too many buttons. All of a sudden all the Seeds are sheltering where it's safe, they don't go out without security – not even the Father himself holds his own sermons outside the compound – and Chosen start crawling around like rats. Then it goes radio silent. Why are the cult breaking into shit, what are they looking for inside all those abandoned homes? And then they suddenly pull out back to the mountains without a word? You would think they found what they were looking for, right?". Dep turned towards Dutch, her long tirade leaving her slightly breathless. She swallowed, gauging him for a response. He took off his glasses, wiping them on his dark green army jacket, and faced her head-on.
"Alright, I believe you're on to something", he relented, letting out a whistle. "But what are you gonna do about it?"
"I don't know what else I can do, aside from focus more on surveillance". Dutch nodded wordlessly.
"And you're positive it's not just cause you nabbed the Cook? I mean, sure, high-up commanders in Jacob's little army have kicked the bucket before and they never had wild manhunts sent out to find the culprit… but it's probably cause they were close to catching you this time", he reasoned. "You're the Junior Deputy, kid. You've inspired the Resistance to fight like they never would have before; if Joseph is sending out his little boy-scouts to find you it's cause they know they'll get a gold star. You'd be amazed at the lengths these nutjobs would go if it meant pleasing their fuckin' Father". Dep couldn't deny, it was sound logic. But she knew there was more to this. She could feel it in her bones. Jacob wouldn't send out his elite soldiers to scout out residential areas if he wasn't looking for something highly important; and from everything she'd seen and heard of Jacob, he'd only do that if he was trying to find a weapon. Or something equally important. Someone, maybe.
"They were close to getting me last time, too. They did get me", Dep scowled, remembering John's hands around her neck. A lungful of water spurting out her mouth as she coughed, Joseph's soft voice comforting her, the bright headlights of a van before it swerved off the road into a ditch. Pastor Jerome with his bible. Gunshots.
"As long as you don't play around in his backyard no more kid, he won't getcha". Dutch's hand rested on her shoulder. A warm, comfortable grounding weight. A reminder that she wasn't out there anymore, in the fray of the battle where bullets cracked through the air, but in here where it was safe. Safe. "I really, really couldn't tell ya why he's after you, kid. But I know that if he did, we'd all fight like fuckers to getcha back", Dutch's gesture threatened tears to fall from her eyes. He sensed her discomfort, hand starting to rub her shoulder warmly. "He wouldn't do it himself at least. He might preach about 'strength' and that but just like all the rest of them, I bet he's a lazy bastard and would send his hunters out after you". Dep curled up into a ball, pulling her arms around herself as a form of safety. Dutch retracted his hand slowly.
"Is that why you're here, kid? You're afraid he's gonna catch ya?", he went down on one knee, leaning in front of her. Dep's hands clawed at her pale face, covering her in embarrassment. She didn't want anyone to see her like this, but if she had to choose anyone to watch her fall apart, she was glad it was Dutch.
"I'm seriously stressed about this, Dutch", the murmured response came from under Rook's hands. Saying it out loud brought with it the terror of admittance – knowing that the danger was real, but at the same time it brought relief. She no longer had to lie about it, say that she was fine when in reality she was on the verge of everything falling apart. Grace had sensed it, which was why she'd also offered to take over the radio for the night and let her bow out of responsibility for the evening.
"Get some rest, Dep", the sniper's words echoed throughout her brain. "Yeah, you look like shit", Jess had called to her as she climbed up the ladder.
"God, kid. It's alright", he patted her arm, pulling away with many apologies when Dep hissed. She rubbed at her forearm – the bandage had been taken off long ago but the old, fading wound hadn't yet disappeared. Dutch, bless him, did his best to comfort her. Talk to her, explain reason and logic when her mind was attempting to reject all of it. "I know this seems like a huge-ass clusterfuck right now, but we're gonna get through this. You been workin' so hard, doing everything that Jerome and Virgil been askin' of ya, it's alright to admit you need some time to yourself".
"No", Dep weakly muttered, coming out of her daze. Her panic was fading initially, but her hands still groped for the packet and she fumbled about with the lighter. As soon as a deep inhale was taken and a cloud of smoke emitted from her lips, she ironically felt able to breathe easy. "No, I'm not giving up or anythin'. I just… I gotta see this through". She muttered and mumbled through half-crazed, panicked sentences. To his credit, Dutch nodded and acted like he understood, even when her words went round in circles and didn't make any sense.
"I'm not crazy", she breathed at last. The sense of dread was floating away, like a noxious cloud out of the sky. It felt like coming out from oppressive fog, one that stifled and suffocated your senses, but now you had emerged from the cloud and reached fresh air. And it had never tasted so sweet.
"You're definitely crazy", Dutch contradicted, a smug smirk toying about on his face that Dep had the urge to slap. "No sane person would've stuck around this long with a doomsday cult in proximity, but that don't mean you're a nutter".
"Thanks," Dep coughed, turning her head away to focus on her stub. She was inhaling and exhaling so quickly, the cigarette was already half burnt-out. "You're a true gent, Dutch". He bowed modestly. "Not many would sit here and listen to me ramble on about shit".
"You do talk some shit", he agreed, reaching for the packet and placing out of arms reach. If Dep was more conscious about the situation she would've apologised – she knew Dutch hated smokers, and she was doing it inside his bunker as well. Sometimes she was aware just how much she had to thank him for, and it partially scared her. "But you're a good one, so I don't mind listening to your crazy talk".
"What were we even talking about?".
"The Seeds. You wanted to know about the Chosen and shit".
"Ah right". She nodded mutely. "What I said still stands, I don't think the Chosen are just browsing for real estate. I think we pissed 'em off big time, and they're sending out search parties for the Lion's Den".
"Christ, you gave it a name?", Dutch hollered with laughter. Dep sent him a glowering look, but didn't take him to heart. They had to come up with a covert name for their hideout, and since the Whitetails had used wolves, there was no reason why they couldn't replicate the nickname with a different animal. "Is it safe, at least? I know you don't tell anyone where it is, which is the smart thing, so I won't ask either. Better for only you and the squad to know".
"I know", she rolled her eyes. "It's safe. At least, it was when I left two hours ago. Grace and Jess know how to fight, no one would think to look twice for where it is, that's all I'll say", she dropped the cigarette butt on the ground, finally having exhausted its use. She trod on it with the heel of her boot, apologising as Dutch wrinkled his nose. Dep's eyes sailed over his shoulder, settling on a face that hung in black-and-white.
"Anyway, you didn't answer my question". She tossed the lighter back into her jacket pocket, revelling in the weight of it. Smoking was her worst habit, she wouldn't lie, but it was the only thing that could calm her down sometimes. Sensing that her meltdown was over, Dutch had carefully turned his attention back to his terminal. The cameras set up all over the island were still on, the night-vision allowing them to see a deer bound past one of the motion-triggered devices.
"Sorry. Shoot".
"What do you know about Jacob Seed? There's gotta be more than what's here". Dep asked the question directly. After her panicked state she felt her confidence return again, bold as brass; Dutch was never one to make her feel shy, if you forget the first night they met when he had a shotgun pointed at her head. She scanned over the reports and information dockets that were pinned up on the wall, like an elaborate spider's web. There wasn't much about the Seeds before coming to Hope County, but she'd heard tales of their troubled past from Peggie chatter over the radio. Whether she liked it or not, Jacob was now her enemy. She was aware of it now, and had to prepare. He was sending his men after her, and that made him an obstacle in taking down the cult. She sighed, causing Dutch to cast a strange look at her. It was inevitable anyway, she was the Resistance's golden girl and he was Eden's Gate's muscle. They were on opposing sides before they'd even met.
"I only saw him once or twice, before this whole Collapse business", Dutch confessed, slouching into his armchair. Dep tilted her head in interest, arms crossed and leaning against the console.
"Yeah?"
"It was years ago, back when the Seeds first moved into Hope County. Before Joseph started up his Church next door and John started buying up land faster than a chicken-hawk in a coop. We were at a group therapy session together". Dep raised an eyebrow, but the shock didn't regard her. It made sense: Dutch was so good at talking to people, comforting them when they needed it and inspiring them to fight, he must've learnt it from somewhere. She actually felt kinda jealous.
"What were you there for?". Dep suddenly twitched, Dutch probably didn't want to tell her. She opened her mouth to apologise when he spoke.
"Veteran Support", he jerked a thumb at his army jacket. Dep nearly fell backwards off the desk again.
"Jesus, Dutch. I didn't know you were a veteran", her mouth gaped open. She'd wondered many times why he was so detached from society, why he had such a huge armoury, and where all his war memorabilia came from. The guy wore an army jacket and walked around with Vietnam badges for fucks sake. Of course, he must've been in some war. It was obvious. "I just thought you were…."
"Some crazy hermit livin' in the woods?", he chuckled, leaning back and pulling out an army knife from his boot. He twirled it around mischievously, tossing it into the air with an edge of danger before quickly catching it with ease.
"Do all Veterans have stuff like that?", Dep remembered Grace's knife. "I was gonna say 'eccentric', but alright. That too", she teased, happy that the conversation was again light and easy. "What war?"
"82nd Airborne, served in Vietnam". He stood up, chair backpedalling as it went and did a flourished bow. Dep clapped and let out a long whistle. "What did ya think my present to Jess was?". Dep cast her mind back to the lighter the Huntress often used.
"Damn, big game then".
"Best of the best, as we liked to say", there was a twinkle in his eye. "You and your squad would've done good in the army. I know Grace has already shown herself to be the best outta all of us – none of my boys back in the day ever got Olympic medals for their aim, you just got them for survivin'", Dutch's face scrunched up for a moment, a trace of bitterness in his voice. And then it was gone. "But still, you and Jess would sail past training with flying colours".
"Thanks, old man", Dep rolled her eyes fondly, but something stirred inside her. Army talk, an old shadowy memory, long forgotten. Her mom, lecturing her about the importance of ironed uniforms. "What was the therapy, then?"
"It was mandatory shit, the stuff they give everyone who comes out of war with uneasy looks. Course, we all do. What you see in those fields and deserts mark you for life, if they don't kill you first time. They'd make us sit in hoodies and stuff, talk about what we were feeling, what we saw, stuff like that. Our C.O's made us do it of course, we all hated it. The donuts weren't that bad though".
"I'd take therapy over Eden's Gate any day", she nodded. God, how long was it since she'd had a donut? Earl said he brought them into the station every Friday, before the cult business took over their lives. Mmm Donuts. So delicious. Eaten for pleasure, not nutrition. Glazed and pink and covered with sprinkles….
Dutch coughed abruptly, bringing her to attention. Her donut daydream would have to wait.
"Anyway, Jacob was there alright. He was the same ugly mug as he is now, 'cept his hair was longer. Those scars, they were there too". Dutch pointed to the grooves on the scowling soldier's face, bright as day even in the picture Dep was holding. "I don't know how he got 'em, heard he served in the Gulf War or something like that. I don't care either way, he's turned out psycho just like all the Seed boys. And he still looks like he's got a lemon stuck up his butt", he grinned. Laughter erupted inside of her.
"I don't wanna know", she shook the piece of paper towards him flippantly. Dutch took it, grinning like a Cheshire cat, marvelling at the face of their enemy. "What was he like as a person, though? Before he was Eden's Gate's hired muscle". Dep wished to god she had a computer and internet connection. If she had the time and resources she'd try to find out more about the Gulf Wars. She needed to know her enemy, in order to conquer him. Or at least that's what she kept telling herself.
"Eh, not much to say. He was quiet, didn't talk much. He left after three sessions. His C.O. was definitely the one who forced him to go, but I don't know how he managed to weasel out of it. I never liked the bastard, seeing him scowl and roll his eyes like a little shit whenever he was prompted to talk, but I sure as hell was jealous when he stopped showing up". Dep glanced again down at the man in the picture before her. Dutch talked about war easily, whatever he'd endured in Vietnam he must've at least had closure on – but imagining a young Jacob Seed compared to how he was now, there was definitely some shit he'd been through. Grace had told her about war. Not about the war itself, but how you felt in it. During their long talks which happened often during night-watch, over steaming cups of tea, the sniper had detailed everything Dep needed to know about war. And it all matched how Dep felt about Eden's Gate. The determination to succeed, the broken morale, the feeling like nothing will ever be the same again. Constant paranoia, anxiety and sorrow.
"Everyone goes through it differently", Dutch straightened up, re-pinning the picture of Jacob on the wall. Dep watched his movements, fluid and controlled, but with the slightest tremor. "It makes men and women of us, I guess. It breaks your mind, makes you a new person. Even if you're lucky to live through it, kid, you're still not lucky enough to escape without scars. And I don't just mean the ones like Jacob's", he gestured to his face, and then pressed a finger to his temple. "You're changed. It changes you. Not just the war, not just what you see, it's the work. Once you spend time shooting people like they're target practice, and you see names in a squad unit as numbers and ranks, you can't just go back to an office job. That's what made me set up roots in Hope County, that's why I live down here, like a sewer rat". Dutch spoke the self-made insult cheerfully.
"And I bet that's why Jacob thinks what he's doing is right".
Dep rested her head back, absorbing everything. Dutch was right; he was usually right about a lot of things and this was no different. While she was still adamant that Jacob was planning something, it didn't mean that she should lose her head. She could handle it, she would handle it. She'd taken enough of Eden's Gate's shit that she was sure she could endure whatever the fuck else they wanted to throw at her: be it drugs, psychotic wolves or even the fucking Chosen.
"Anyway, pretty piss-poor conversation topic, when you came here to relax. Guess I'm not a good a host as I thought", Dutch poked humour into the great hole of silence that had enveloped them. Dep's eyes followed him as he sauntered out the corridor, towards his kitchen. "I'm gonna make that coffee I promised, you want some?". A resigned smile and a nod made him vanish, footsteps disappearing down the bunker hallway and down into the kitchen unit. The audible click of a kettle and the clink of cups caused Dep to follow. She pulled herself up, stretching her tired muscles - a reminder to get a damn good sleep on her unofficial "night off" – and dragged herself to the doorway. She lingered for a moment, the scent of rich coffee catching her nose as she turned back once more towards the pinboard. The four Heralds, their pictures – taken with a long-ranged camera - not doing them justice. Jacob's face scowled back at her. Messy red hair, piercing predatory eyes and a scowl that would make a wolf run away with its tail between its legs. This man was her enemy, her rival. He was responsible for countless actions that had been carried out against her, and the people of the County she was supposed to protect. He had undeniably been through hell, just like Dutch had. Just like Grace had. Just like she had. He'd probably seen many atrocities, abundant acts of death and destruction, and yet unlike herself and her allies, he was the only one who believed it to be justified. He'd endured hell, and yet his response to it wasn't recovery or resolution, but instead to make others experience the same.
After all that, he still believed war to be the world's solution?
Dutch was right, he and the Seeds were opposites. Two sides of the same coin, but different currencies. Dutch was nothing like Jacob, if the Jacob she'd heard about was true. If he was the malicious, intelligent manipulator that the horror stories spread about him were accurate, then she had no place in thinking about this man as anything more than an enemy.
So why, oh why, did she think about him at all?
XXX
Jacob paced the room for the umpteenth time.
It wasn't unusual for John to be late, his little brother often had some unfortunate underling to snap at last-minute, or rearrange his hair for half-an-hour, but he had never been this late before. Annoyance flicked across his features – John had been the one who was insistent on this meeting. Ever since the Deputy had begun to occupy his time, Jacob had regrettably spent only a few precious moments contacting his brothers – insisting that the management with the Whitetails was proving to be attention-consuming. They hadn't, of course. Jacob had been focussing on other… projects.
Jacob sank down into his chair, his mind oozing with images. Oh, the Deputy. What a menace - and what a delight she was. Every time a report came in about her – some new information Joab had (unenthusiastically) supplied him with, or a new outpost liberated by her squad – had succeeded in simultaneously making him pissed off and enthralled. He loved the thrill of the chase; the frenzied joy that came with closing in around prey was the only fun he could obtain in this godforsaken county. It had been nearly a fortnight since her little stunt with the Cook, and every time his men entered his office with news, his heart had momentarily jumped with the possibility of her returning. He'd barked out his orders over radio, and his men took to them immediately, now aware of their new goal. The Deputy was to be observed at every possible opportunity, but never engaged with. He placed his best soldiers after her, and they had managed to keep a good distance, while supplying him with strange but sometimes intriguing information. He was initially unimpressed – since they were trained to succeed – but pleased nonetheless when it took only a few days to find out. They knew where her house was.
It was quaint, for a killing-machine who had ended the lives of so many of his own personally-trained warriors, to live in a cosy cabin in the north-east of Holland Valley. He honestly was expecting something a little more… remote. Something a bit less… domestic. He didn't expect her to live in a cave or a barn, but regardless he was somewhat surprised to find out that she had an actual house in one of the most residential areas of the Valley. It reminded him of that cougar she kept around. Beautiful to look at, a symbol of power and strength, but also could rip out your eyes before you were aware it even had fangs. Or claws, depending on the method. It could disguise itself as something soft and beautiful, even somewhat cute, when in reality it was as fierce as a storm.
The Deputy was a Lioness, through and through.
Jacob had sent his men to follow her, but only at a distance. They tracked her from Fall's End, splitting off from her group to go solo – and revealing her safe haven. The Chosen had turned the place upside down as soon as she'd left, calling off the hunt when they knew she had wandered out of the Holland Valley, and towards the abandoned island where the old Roosevelt property was kept. He knew there was someone, or something, likely being kept a secret there, but he didn't have the interest or resources to bother scouting out the place. He was annoyed somewhat when his men returned with nothing of interest – there was no hidden bunker, no secret weapons vault hidden under the Deputy's cabin. It wasn't where her band of self-proclaimed fighters lived. A shame. He would like to visit the Lionesses' den just as much as Eli's own bunker. But he supposed that would have to wait. For now.
Again, to his irritation, he had other matters to concern himself with. The Whitetails had been trying to increase their support in the mountains but it was still of little threat, since nearly all residents within the region were either already in-line for trials, or dead. He could only divert so much time and interest into tracking the junior Deputy's movements, as suspending the Chosen from Holland Valley was proving difficult. Ever since his own little breached-security incident, nearly all of his Chosen were deployed to different regions to prevent the rebels gaining morale, and keep pressure on the Resistance tight. However, in the last few days he had to recall the order, much to his own frustration. His men had done well searching the Holland Valley – since that must be where the Deputy was hiding – but they still had yet to uncover the Deputy's hidey-hole. She wasn't living in Fall's End, that was for sure, as he had one very reliable intel source from within the town who had proven repeatedly that after the Deputy met with the Resistance, she always left to go elsewhere. Not even that Pastor Jerome knew of her actual base of operations, as Jacob had been told. Because of this lack of real progress, as well as John's immediate interest and desire to meet in regards to "Our little locust problem", (as he'd called it over radio), Jacob had pulled out his Chosen to retreat to the mountains, giving back the home field advantage and strengthening his army's might. It was inconveniencing his plan to track the Deputy, but at least it would warn off any other idiots who might play hero and attempt the same as she had. It was more difficult to justify sending his men into the Valley when the Deputy – such a smart girl – was laying low. He hoped she was also plotting something, so that he could enjoy hearing of her movements again. If she wanted to come back to him, he'd be happy to let the gates open. A small smile graced Jacob's lips, partially hidden by his beard, as he contemplated his brave little Deputy wandering back to him.
"She'd surely put up more of a fight than Peaches", he smirked, head circling back to the door. Pratt, as he liked to call himself before he held the diminutive little nickname, was no hero. He wasn't even enough of a coward to be called a Deputy. How the man ever shared the same title as Jacob's own little lamb was beyond him. Peaches was snivelling, weak, and not even good enough to wipe Jacob's boots on. Since Peaches might have at least proven useful for something, Jacob had left him in Joab's tender care. His second-in-command had spent many hours with him in The Tank – Joab's own unconventional "office" where he got to know Peaches very well. What Pratt endured was of no concern to Jacob. The thought of his weaselled face was enough to make him glower – if there was even half a man in him then Pratt might've done well in his army. Even the weak have their purpose, and Pratt would make a good live-target.
He snickered at that.
"Ah, Jacob. My dearest elder brother"
The proud, slightly sneering voice of John echoed throughout the room. Jacob grimaced internally – he loved his real family more than anything, but while he wanted to protect John, his little brother was more than "annoying" to work with. John didn't seem to understand the limits of human capability, as evidenced when he demanded that giant "YES" sign on the mountains – a massive eyesore to all – to be built by their followers within a couple of days. Joseph had spent many hours trying to calm down their hot-headed baby brother. Jacob swallowed down an internal lump in his throat, levelling his demeanour and trying to retain a cool composure. He turned to find his brother, standing in the war-room's doorframe, his Chosen bodyguards behind awkwardly, trying to make themselves invisible.
"John", he commented, voice conveying little emotion. His brother, despite being nearly a head shorter than Jacob, seemingly held control over the conversation. He opened his arms wide. They embraced lovingly, pressing their foreheads to one another in typical Seed fashion. "You seem well". Jacob was happy to see John on most days; witnessing the handsome, confident man that John had grown into was a stark contrast to the tearful, chubby toddler that Jacob remembered from their childhood. John had become everything that Jacob had ever wanted, even for himself: respected, intelligent, handsome and charismatic, although that was once-upon-a-time. He was reminded of how he himself had changed as a person, whenever he saw his own ugly mug in the mirror. He remembered that his scars had come with sacrifice however, and if there was a God, then he had proven his own virtues to them. Bravery, loyalty, endurance.
"Why, thank you. You on the other hand are a sight for sore eyes!", John strutted into Jacob's office, lounging into a chair without even asking permission. That was John alright, exuding charisma and excusing manners for assumed entitlement. If anyone else attempted to do this, he'd have them thrown to the Judges. But John was his little brother. Jacob didn't visibly react to John's comment, instead settling into his own desk chair, waving a hand towards the Chosen without glancing up. They bowed out, not making eye contact nor saying a word, shutting the door behind them. The click of a lock was heard. Not to trap them inside, but to keep others out.
"We won't be disturbed. I'll admit, I'm surprised you wanted to discuss matters of security with me", Jacob let his voice drop, low and dangerous. The evident annoyance was there. "John is my brother, I love him. That's why sending him home with a black eye isn't the smartest move", internal thoughts reminded himself. He sometimes forgot that he loved his youngest family member.
"Come, come Jake. You know how difficult these past few weeks have been". Jacob grimaced at his nickname. "Can family not spend time with one another without jumping to business?".
"You tell me, you're the businessman", he glowered slightly. John straightened his shirt smugly, taking it as a compliment. "I just run an entire army, and have more important matters to attend to". As if on cue a knock came at the door. John's head tilted around, staring at it in confusion. Jacob growled out a low "Enter", and Joab appeared, in all his serpentine splendour. Two soldiers in red held the door open for the black-clothed lieutenant as he bowed, straightening up like a pencil. An expression of mock-surprise crossed his face – one that Jacob knew, after being around him for so long, was earnestly fake.
"Brother John, it's an honour for your visit", Joab didn't waste a second to kiss ass. Jacob crossed his arms impatiently as John stood up, shaking the lieutenant's hand and resuming his irritatingly charming persona. Joab eyed John when the man's back was turned, shooting him a bored as fuck look to the General. He met it with a grim expression. "Apologies for the interruption sir, but we have more intel on… our biggest priority", Joab attempted to whisper the last words. If John didn't look intrigued before he certainly was now. Blue eyes as big as saucers, the Baptist whipped around towards Jacob.
"Jake! You didn't tell me you were working on your own secrets up here!", his eyes darted about the office in attempts to find something interesting, then back to the file in Joab's pale hand.
"That's because they're supposed to be confidential", his steely eyes pierced the room, stifling John's excitement for a moment. Joab bowed again, this time in apology. He carefully approached the desk, settling the file down in front of Jacob. He grasped it quickly, before John could scoop it up in curiosity. "I was planning to discuss it with you in this meeting. The one you came here for", he huffed. Of course John would plan this big "important" meeting and then waste time with idle small-talk. "Joab, leave us". No sooner had he barked out the command before Joab was already retreating through the doors. He'd been quietly backing away as soon as he set the folder down, aware of Jacob's routinely orders. The other two Chosen stammered for a moment, eyes following their superior who was briskly heading in the opposite direction. They bowed again, doors closing and the sound of footsteps retreating.
"Wish we could have some female Chosen", John pouted. Jacob's eye flickered for a moment. "The hulking brutes you send are hardly good for conversation, or easy on the eyes for that matter". Jacob let his frown harden his features, like drying cement. Of course John would only want female soldiers around him, let his little ego swell with pride if he had a group of women at his beck and call like a pack of trained dogs.
"They don't speak because they're completing their purpose, John. They're supposed to keep you safe, not entertain".
"You could've fooled me, with all your performing monkeys around I'd hoped they'd be good for something else". Jacob just barely caught himself from rolling his eyes. "You're not the best at conversation either", John leaned against the wall, hands stuffed inside his trench-coat pockets. God.
"Since we are here to have a conversation, the sooner we get to it the sooner you can leave with what you wanted", he sighed, shuffling around some papers on his desk. "Or have you forgotten? Your 'pest' problem". As soon as the words were spoken, John's charismatic façade dropped. His eyes narrowed to slits, a slammed fist came down on Jacob's desk. The General eyed him, face devoid of any amusement. "I sense this will be a long meeting, then", he snarked. His hand waved towards the opposite chair in front of his desk. John slid down, levelling his glare. Jacob knew it wasn't directed towards him, but towards who they wanted to discuss.
John's 'pest' problem, and Jacob's "biggest priority".
"Little whore has been making your men look like idiots", John hissed, hands clenching onto the desk tightly. Jacob ignored the insult, already aware of John's less than satisfactory opinions on women, and pondered giving him a pencil to snap instead.
"Are you sure it's my men who are inefficient?", he drawled. He didn't care personally about his men's characters, but he wouldn't accept an insult towards his army. Some of these people he'd trained himself, they were top of their game and far smarter and stronger than the weak morons they had once been. If anything was the matter with his Chosen's performance, it was likely because of the poorly-decided orders they'd been given. For once, to Jacob's amazement, John ignored the comment.
"To make sure they don't fail again, I have an idea on how to… increase their usefulness". Despite his intense desire to leave the room, Jacob leaned forward. It was better for John to get what he wanted ASAP and leave, lest they be here all night. A sadistic smirk pulled at John's lips. He was plotting something.
"Your Chosen know how to fly planes, correct?".
XXX
Author's Notes: Been a while :)
Covid and returning to school haven't been a good mix, but this is the first chapter I've written and published since August. Took ages ik, but I have gone back and edited little details in a lot of the chapters and re-written stuff to make the story more pleasing to read. Example, stuff like instead of "Her heart beat faster", it becomes "The frantic thudding in her ears drowned out all other noise". I like to improve stuff over time and I like how this website lets you update chapters even after they're published.
Anyway, Dutch is a Veteran! According to his official game lore he was in Vietnam like Wendall Redler - over lockdown I finished all the Far Cry 5 DLCs and played Hours of Darkness which is the one set in Vietnam from Wendall's perspective. It's a solid little side story, and made me wanna focus on the military aspect of FC5. I wanted to elaborate how war impacts people; Dutch and Jacob ironically both served in the 82nd Airborne unit of the US army but they were in different places, as Dutch was in Vietnam and Jacob was in Iraq. It's pretty clear (I hope! Unless I've messed up my meanings and representations lol) that each man contrasts the other despite they're very similar, and I wanted this to be shown how even though they both served in the same army division they both turned out opposites to one another. Both were scarred from what they saw in war but it changed them in alternate ways; Dutch became a paranoid prepper who thought that he had to protect his family by being prepared for anything while Jacob believes the same thing, although he's in Eden's Gate and instead somewhat takes all his repressed angst from serving in the army and then being discarded like stale chewing gum. One's in the resistance, one's in Eden's Gate and yet both fought and were physically and psychologically scarred by what they saw and did (Dutch isn't traumatised tho, he's come to terms with war but he still prepares for nukes and stuff). Eli also follows this pattern (he's a young veteran as well I'm pretty sure. Did you know he and Jacob used to be friends? That'll be important later on), but we haven't seen him yet :) Dep isn't a veteran herself, just to clear up any theories, but she's got a pretty militaristic background which will be... revealed later, hence why she remembers her mum lecturing her about uniforms. Also, Dutch is a sweetheart :3
Personally I like this chapter and it doesn't feel as up-and-down as others I've written. I think I always struggle a lot when writing dialogue because my characters always feel like they flip from happy to sad and it makes them look kind of bipolar? I think I always wanna convey too much emotion and meaning into things and sometimes it comes off as pretty extreme and unrealistic ;-; But that's a working issue :) I hope my writing's improved a lot since I last uploaded bc it's been a while due to school and stuff and I want everything I put out to be as high-quality as possible. Possibly an unrealistic desire, but I'll settle for the best of my abilities, if I try hard ^^
Dep's smoking habit not only matches Jacob, but it reflects Beatrice Santello from Night in the Woods (AMAZING GAME!). Both smoke a lot and it helps them with stress, they use it to calm down a lot although Bea kinda chainsmokes like Winston Churchill lol. Dep can kinda come off as an OC deputy at times which is fine but it's genuinely not supposed to be a self-insert or anything. Dep can look like anyone if you want her to but I wanted to make a dramatic story so added a backstory and stuff for her, even if her name is just referred to as "Dep", "Deputy" or "Rook". I'm really trying not to make her OP because ik that's no fun if it's just "Character is smart. Character is good. Character succeeds at everything they do", which isn't realistic. The actual Deputy in-game tho is pretty OP cause they fly planes, helicopters, wingsuits and do all sorts of cool shit (they rig 3 bunkers to blow and escape each of them and survive a murderous doomsday cult) so I think canonically the Deputy is pretty OP lol xD I like how even Kim kinda references it in-game cause Dep just flies a plane (the Air-Raid story mission) like they've known how to for ages with only 1 informal "lesson" on the bat, so... *shrugs*.
I hope everyone is staying safe from covid and that they're enjoying this story :) I really, really love this Fanfic and I hope everyone who reads it does too cause FC5 is an awesome game. Xmas is coming up soon so whether you celebrate it or not I hope you're happy and healthy this winter :)
Stay safe,
EnchantedMask
xxx