Agent Cage woke with a start in the middle of the night, jolting up in bed. He was shocked as he felt resistance, before realizing that an arm was draped across his chest; wait, not just any arm, Agent Kelso's arm. Memories from hours beforehand came back to his mind, and he remembered just what exactly had transpired between them. He wondered if something like this would ever happen again, or if it was just a one-time thing.

Yeah, it was probably the latter.

Cage decided to just relax, take in the moment and enjoy it before something or someone decided to come along and disturb the peace. So he laid back down, pulling Kelso closer towards him in the process; she responded by burying herself further into his chest, and tightening her grip around him. She was in that half-awake/half-asleep phase, having been stirred by Cage's sudden wake-up. She then mumbled loud enough for him to hear, "You're a lot warmer than my cat was, that's for sure." Cage just chuckled.

Wrapping his arms around her in an embrace, Cage intended to be her personal warmer all night long, however long that would be.

Meanwhile, over 200 miles away, Vanguard was at work. He knew that his vision would bring a sort of clarity to this harsh world that everyone lived in now. Parnell had accomplished wonders with his technological works, he had high hopes for him in the future that was being set in store. Dragov and Conley were the perfect pawns that anyone could ask for. And as for Kajika?

What better attack dog to sic on the government than one of their best ex-hitmen?

Yes, Aaron Keener had a master plan that was going to help this world prosper. As nice as it was to have his four lieutenants, he still knew that he needed more. Since the events at the United Nations Building and his theft of Tchernenko and Amherst's research, there have been more Agents that have disavowed the Division and have henceforth been marked as Rogue. Yet, there were still those who decided to continue on with their blind loyalty to the remnants of the American government.

They called him a terrorist. A traitor to the nation. Last time Keener checked, he didn't abandon any of his people in that dreaded land, The Dark Zone. He didn't cut the rope that was a lifeline to the members of his team. No, the JTF did that. And now, they would pay the ultimate price for their treachery.

In a makeshift lab, Vitaly Tchernenko was working on his most recent and devastating compound yet. Keener had decided to call it Eclipse, a far more deadly variant of chimera variola. Unlike its predecessor, it was fast acting, and death was guaranteed within minutes. Keener knew just the target for his new little toy as well. But first, there was some last minute business to tend to.

"Just one last thing. If you ever get off of this rock, don't come looking for me. When I need to, I'll find you."

Agent Marcus Webb remembers those words on a daily basis, ever since he found the cellphone recording that Keener left behind at the piers. There had been no sign of the man since the incident at the U.N., with mostly everyone being focused on the fall of the LMB after he had shot down Bliss' helicopter.

He sat in his little camp chair he had managed to get out of the Dark Zone a while back. Perched a top the Base of Operations, with the moon shining on the city, he was getting ready to call it a day. And oh, what a day it had been. Aside from running into what could only be called a Hunter, his day was alright enough. But Webb didn't come out of the fight unscathed. He'd gone back to Amherst's apartment, and was deeply disturbed that he was not the only one to have done so.

Somebody else wanted Amherst, but like the Division, they too fell short of their goal before Keener stepped into the picture. Keener had beat him to a lot of things. He'd managed to get off of Manhattan Island, had obtained the virus printer, the scientist with the know-how, and what all had Webb managed to do? Oh, that's right; get clipped in the face with an axe from a masked homicidal anti-Agent, remain stuck on the damned island, even after the SHD network went down, and last but not least, watch every member of his original Agent cell get killed.

Webb took a sip from his flask, savoring the burning calm that the whiskey brought him. Rhodes had given him a whole fifth of Jim Beam as his way of saying thank you before he left to go start a new community. Faye was completely against it, but Benitez acted as mediator and the rest was history. Hell, the only one out of their lucky little bunch to make it off the island was Dr. Kandel, and she was operating out of a facility in Ann Arbor, Michigan.

Then there was the newest hornet's nest that had been rattled; the Black Tusk Special Unit. Word had trickled from Washington that after the president was recovered, he turned his back on the Division, along with the rest of the JTF, to side with them. They were practically a militarized version of SHD Agents. Webb probably would've continued to wonder on and on within his thoughts had he not seen a rather odd sight not far off in the distance.

About 4 blocks away, a flare had been shot off. It wasn't the usual red flare that people had taken to using on the island to signal that they needed reinforcements for an attack on an enemy controlled compound. This flare was green, and a few seconds after it went up, another followed suit. Two green flares.

Alright, the curiosity was piqued, and it was better than pondering and getting drunk at 1:00 AM in the morning. Webb grabbed his gear, wrote a note which he laid in his bunk, then began heading towards where the flare was shot above. Within 20 minutes, he found himself at an alley way that seemed just a little too suspicious.

Webb, his "Golden Rhino" revolver out and ready to use, scouted out the area, pulsing it to check for any hostiles. Much to his surprise, multiple pings rang out, along with ISAC ominously saying, "Warning, Rogue Agents detected." A shiver went down Webb's spine, and as he turned to leave the alley way, his path was blocked by two figures, both holding weapons up at him, ready to kill. He turned back around to see two more figures with their weapons at the ready. Between those two came one more, his watch glowing a bright red, just as the rest of the other Agent's watches did. Holstering his pistol as he knew he was outmatched, Webb simply took a flare off of his vest, struck it across the ground, and lit up the alley around him in a bright red light.

Before him stood Javier Kajika, Vivian Conley, James Dragov, Theo Parnell, and last but not least, one Aaron Keener. Keener stepped forward until he was within a few yards of Webb. He clapped his hands together, smiled, and said, "Marcus! We need to have a talk, old friend."

"Keener, why should I even bother listening to you? You know that we've got shoot-on-sight orders for you right?" Webb said. He had expected Keener to be far away from Manhattan, not back at where it all started. Keener just chuckled before he spoke once again. He was eager to see the reaction on Webb's face.

"The reason I have will convince you to do a lot more than just talk to me. You'll be joining me soon enough. I take it you're familiar with a private military company by the name of Black Tusk?" He spoke nonchalantly. Webb grunted; what Division Agent didn't know who and what Black Tusk was these days?

"Yeah I'm familiar with the bunch. They're just a super version of Charles Bliss and his LMB boys. They didn't last long, and I'm positive that Black Tusk won't last long either. Why are you mentioning them?"

"Were you aware that they were working alongside Andrew Ellis, former House Speaker and current President of these United States? Or that their sole purpose is to eliminate and replace each and every last Division Agent, Rogue or not?"

"What are you saying Keener? That it no longer matters who's right or wrong, we should all band together for the greater good? Yeah I don't think so. Sure, Black Tusk may be a common enemy for the both of us, but let's think about that for a second. They want you dead because of how you originally disavowed the Division. They want me dead because I'm still loyal to the Division."

"Marcus, it's precisely because of your loyalty to the Division that Black Tusk exists to begin with. Think about it. I mean really think about this. The Division has failed in its mission to save what remains. Hell, the Division couldn't even do its job because our higher ups wouldn't properly allow it! My intel, which has never proven to be wrong, has suggested that these guys were up to no good from the start, before Green Poison even hit on Black Friday!"

"So what are you saying then Aaron? It's all just circumstance and shitty luck that we happen to be in the predicament that we find ourselves in? Or are you saying there's a bigger picture here? Because I honestly don't know what to believe anymore. The JTF says one thing, ISAC says another, and now you're telling me all this. Why did you even seek me out to begin with huh?"

"I sought you out because you're the man that single-handedly eliminated Joe Ferro, Larae Barrett, and Charles Bliss. You eliminated them without hesitation, and you did it because you knew just what kinds of problems that they were going to be stirring up. You knew that more people were going to die because of them, and you did the right thing. Most people would've cowered in fear, confronting people the likes of them. But you Marcus, you stepped up to the plate. You accepted the challenge. And because of that, I want you on my team. The winning team."

Agent Webb stood there, taking in everything that Keener had told him. But he only had one more question in mind.

"Alright, fine. You've convinced me. But I've got one question to ask you."

"You've but to ask it, Agent."

"What do we have to do to ensure that Ellis' plan doesn't succeed?"

Aaron Keener smiled. He had finally done it! He then answered, "I've set a plan in motion to handle that particular problem."

Agent Molly Henderson was recovering in a bunker outside of New York. Her wounds had been caused by a Cleaner that had decided at the last moment, as his flame thrower tank had been ruptured, that he'd throw said tank at Henderson. It exploded in front of her and left her with a debilitating injury that would be a set-back for years. Her right side of her face was burnt, the vision in her right eye gone now; there was no chance that it would fully heal.

She thought that working for Keener meant that she had been given the free pass up by the usually hostile factions of New York; unfortunately, she thought wrongly.

And to top off the list of woes that she had been adding up in her head, she had lost contact with the remnants of her cell, curious as to how her fellow Rogue Agents were doing. Suddenly the door to her room was opened, and in walked Aaron Keener himself.

"Hello Molly. We need to talk about some important factors in both of our lives right now. Starting off with everything you know about Black Tusk."

Agent Henderson remained quiet, then said, "I suppose it's the least I could do since you saved my life. What do you wanna know about them Aaron?"

Keener leaned against the door frame before answering, "I want to know what resources you would need to find and eliminate Bardon Schaeffer, along with the rest of the Black Tusk leadership."

"Is that to also include Andrew Ellis?"

"You mean our supposed President?"

"Hey, I didn't vote for him, nor did I ever like the asshole. Are you wanting him neutralized as well?"

"Yes. He's the key to everything. And as much as I would hate to admit it, we're going to need some help here. That's why I'm sending you and your Rogue cell to D.C. You're going to get ahold of this new Agent I've been hearing so much about. He and his team are the best trained Agents I've ever seen, and he's much like New York's very own Marcus Webb. We're going to need him in our upcoming war with the Black Tusk."

"Then once I recover, I'll get right to it. In the meantime though, I'm going to go back to sleep. Fair enough by you Keener?"

"I suppose that's fair enough by me Henderson. We'll talk more tomorrow. In the meantime, sweet dreams."

Aaron Keener walked into his little room that he had set aside for himself. He always knew that he had some greater purpose to serve in life. He just never knew that it would take a biological apocalyptic disease to show him that. Laying down on his bed, Keener pondered about what the next day may bring. However, his pondering was cut short by a quick knock on his door.

"Come in." The door opened, revealing Rogue Agent Vivian Conley. Keener sat up on his bed, focusing in on the 'manic pixie dream girl' as Dragov had called her. "Hello Aaron." She walked towards him as he replied with, "Hello Vivian." She stopped before his bed, kicking off her shoes and moving to get on the bed with him.

She positioned herself above him, then leaned down to kiss him.

Aaron still didn't know how he felt about the two of them together. He had already been married, twice. What could possibly make him believe that something like this would work between a crazy ideologist and a wanted terrorist? Hell if he knew. All he knew was that his loyalty was now to his fellow Rogue Agents, those who devoted themselves to the cause; but Vivian, she was a different scenario.

He didn't see her as the others did. She was fierce, loyal, devoted and absolutely willing to give her life for what she believed in. The other Rogues just saw her as Conley, Leader of the Cleaners. To him, she was just Vivian.

For the first time since the Black Friday terrorist attacks orchestrated by Gordon Amherst, Aaron had begun to feel something that was a remnant of how his world was before society came apart. Here was this woman, who had experienced just as much loss as he had, if not more, and came out stronger and more resilient because of it.

Maybe it was just an attraction thing. Maybe it was an unspoken pact between the two of them, to relieve each other of the tension and stress of the rest of the world by just getting lost in each other for a few hours. The world had fucked up so much for everyone. It only seemed ideal to enjoy what little indulgences there were to be enjoyed.

Hours later, as Keener slept with Conley, her head on his chest, he awoke not with a start, but at the sound of his companion snoring. He laughed inwardly to himself. Who'd have thought the terrifying Vivian Conley was a snorer?

Javier Kajika, Theo Parnell, and James Dragov all sat in the living room of an apartment about a block away from the bunker that Keener had taken over and renovated to his liking. Conley had left a few hours ago, and Keener had left shortly before her. However, the three of them had remained behind at this little room of theirs for one thing only: conversation.

In a busy world such as theirs, they hardly ever spoke with the other. 'Family cohesion' as Dragov had called it. In a sense, they all were family, given everything they had been through. Although most families weren't as fucked up as they all were.

Kajika had taken to reading a book he had found in the apartment, Dante's Inferno, while Dragov was talking to Parnell about the last thing he wanted to discuss – women. It's not that he didn't take an interest in them. Theo, though he would never admit it anywhere near Dragov, had the hots for his right hand woman Duchess. He just never pursued such desires because the hulking brute that was in front of him had practically claimed Duchess, and also for the simple fact that he was working on the Rogue network that was going to be a God-send. It was imperative that his focuses were elsewhere. After his job was done, then he could go after what he wanted.

Duchess in particular.

Parnell simply smiled, stating, "I know what I like and who I like Dragov. I wouldn't worry too much about it." Dragov huffed in annoyance, "What's that cryptic shit supposed to mean?" Across the room, Kajika piped up from his book, saying, "It means he's head over heels for somebody already." He had watched Parnell a few times. They may all be highly trained soldiers, but everyone knows that looking at the backside of a woman, particularly Duchess, is bound to attract the attention of others – in this case, Javier Kajika.

Dragov just sighed, tired of trying to pry any kind of information from his fellow Rogue Agents. There's just no getting through to some people, he reckoned. At least the Rikers would always listen up and joke around with him. These two were a bunch of hammers.

I do hope you've all enjoyed the story so far. I would have posted this chapter sooner, but being in the Army and also working during the pandemic has vastly limited my writing time. I will try to get more chapters to you soon!