Sceniu Complex.
Twelve Years Before Present Day.
Even after the world governments have crumbled and the social infrastructure decays into anarchy, even when, after the greatest and most horrible war of all, the human race has every reason to band together in an effort to save one another from total annihilation - they don't.
-Momma talking about the separation of the 'Stranded' and the 'Cog'.
The greasy man who smelled like the worse end of a sewage pipe grabbed the little girl's shoulder and thrust her forward roughly. "I gotta buyer for ya'," the man said greedily. "So don't pull no shit, you understand?"
The little girl wasn't sure if he wanted an answer or not, so she said nothing. She was six years old now, but was small for her age due to malnutrition. The filthy pair of pants she wore engulfed her emaciated body, and she had to yank them up by their torn belt loops to keep them from falling off. The man strode in front of her with big steps, that took two of her own to cover the same distance. He had instructed her to call him 'master', but she had refused to out of some shred of dignity she still possessed. The man came to an abrupt stop and she pulled up the rear behind him.
"Ah, Mr. Thomas," he said, though his tone implied that he knew it was false. "Here's the one I was telling you all about." He dropped his falsely sweet tone as he whipped around, searching for her. "Where are you, girl?" he growled. "Get out here so the man can see you!"
His theatrics were unneeded, as she was standing right behind him. Used to this sort of behavior from him, she obediently stepped forward into the gaze of her buyer. He was huge, standing half a head taller than the man she was with, and had bulging muscles that were filled with pre E-day prison tattoos. He was loaded down with guns and knives, and she could even see the bulge of a grenade beneath his leather vest. He grinned evilly, showing off his black teeth. "What's yo' name, girly?" he asked.
She didn't reply, and his smile faded. He looked unhappily to the man behind her. "Whatsa matter with her? She deaf or something?"
Her 'master' didn't hesitate to deal with her. He swung, taking a step forward to get his full weight behind the blow. His fist caught her on the side of the face, and she instinctively widened her stance to keep her balance. "The man asked you a question. Don't make him repeat it."
She swallowed the taste of blood in her mouth before she answered. "Bri-Brianna, sir." She was still going by the old alias. As long as she was Brianna, that meant that there was still a Sylvia out there somewhere. A Sylvia who wasn't being treated as a slave sold at auction, who wasn't running her tongue across her teeth to see if any of them had been knocked loose…a Sylvia who still had a family who loved and cared about her.
"She seems a little on da' skinny side, don't she?" he questioned, poking the small girl in the side.
"It's just the pants," he lied, "They make her seem smaller than she really is. She's my favorite, however," her 'master' said. "I've had her since I picked her up in the woods on E-day. It will take a lot for me to let her go. What do you plan to use her for?" His story was true; he had been the one to take care of her after E-day. When civilization had collapsed, so had the moral fiber of humanity. He could have been a nice guy before the locusts emerged, but now the only thing he worried about was how to survive in the coming years. Many humans who had profited over the collapse of humanity, mostly ex-prisoners, purchased young children as slaves. They didn't pay in cash, seeing as paper money was completely useless nowadays. They usually traded in weapons or food, the vast majority almost certainly stolen. What the slaves were used for was up to the slime bags that bought them. The lucky didn't go to molesters, but the sad majority did.
"I don't see how that's any of your damn business, now is it?" the buyer said, almost nonchalantly reaching for his knife.
"Right, right," the man said, following the buyer's reach for his knife with careful eyes. "Now let's talk price, shall we?"
They debated over how much the little girl was worth. She paid them no mind however as she hefted up her pants yet again. She stared out a hole in the wall, watching the sun sink down. The echo of gunfire could faintly be heard in the distance. She reached one hand down the neck of her t-shirt that could have served as a dress, and pulled out a dainty piece of chain. She checked to make sure nobody was watching her as she slid a broken locket around so she could stare at the smiling faces. She had already memorized each line in her mother's face, each freckle in her brother's. It was her only connection to a pre-war world. A better world.
She heard a gunshot behind her and she quickly hid the locket underneath her shirt before whirling around. The man who had wanted to purchase her had evidently gotten sick of haggling for a price, and had shot him instead. It wasn't anything new; dead bodies popped up all the time. He would face no charges for murder, nor would the thousands of others who had killed someone.
"It's your lucky day, Bri-Brianna," the man said, grabbing her skinny arm, "'Cause you get to come wit' me." He dragged her out by her arm. She glanced back behind her to the man who had rescued her, raised her, and sold her. She should have been immensely relieved to get out of his grasp, but she couldn't help the knot of fear in her stomach. One of her father's favorite sayings had been that the known devil is always better than the unknown one. She hadn't understood it at the time, but now she had a pretty clear understanding of its meaning.
The dream snapped me out of sleep, and I instinctively drew my sidearm. After a quick evaluation of the room, I relaxed slightly. The only demons here were the ones inside my head. Sam had snapped to attention as soon as I woke up, and she was half standing, whipping her head around to assess any danger.
"It's okay, girl," I whispered, patting the side of her flank. She whined softly, but didn't relax until she had finished her own assessment. I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to calm my heartbeat and drown out the last of the nightmare. I looked out my wall and saw that it was still dark; probably a few more hours until sunup. It didn't matter now; I knew I wasn't going to get any more sleep tonight.
I stayed seated for a while, reluctant to get up. Finally, as the sky began to lighten, I grabbed my pack and sniper rifle, patted my hip for Sam to follow, and headed out the door.
The sun was slowly making its' ascent into the sky as I headed over towards Jacinto's military base of operations. There had been a guard change overnight, and I didn't have to worry about Darvish giving me a hard time. It was quiet as I headed through the rubble that had once served as busy streets. I detoured over to the small but deep river that ran through the complex. It had been divided into sections, and I headed to the first section that was designated for drinking water. It ran white over the rocks, and was safe to drink. We sanctioned a few guards up river to keep it that way. Dix had issued a sanitation law after our first outbreak of dysentery. Farther down it curved upward, giving the illusion of privacy. That was where the members of the complex bathed. Women had taken to bathing together to reduce the chance of one of us being raped.
When I got to Jacinto's outer limits, I chose a spot on Jacinto's wall's that was unguarded, but gave me a clear view of any troops entering or leaving the complex. I shoved my sniper and pack onto the wall ahead of me, before grasping the ledge and pulling myself up. Sam chose a portion of the wall that had collapsed long ago, and used the uneven edges to climb up.
When Sam laid down next to me I grabbed a few ration bars and unwrapped them. They were almost positively stolen from the COG, but I tried not to let that bother me as I tore into them. Sam wolfed two down in a few bites and sniffed at me for some more. Her ears perked when I tore off part of my own.
"Okay. High five," I said, and held my other hand out for her to place her paw in. She sat up and lifted her foot for me to grab. "Good girl!" I said, and gave her the small piece of food. I patted her absentmindedly while I watched the doors. I watched the trickle of people leave and return to the building, but no sign of any squads. I stroked Sam's head automatically, with her nudging my arm with her nose every time I stopped.
Finally, a team exited the building. There were four of them, all men. Of course, that was typical since the breeding laws took effect. I motioned to Sam to stay there, before dropping down to the ground and sneaking closer to gain information about their mission, and to see if this was indeed Delta squad.
"I don't get what the hell we're supposed to be doing. 'Investigate an abandoned COG outpost'? What are we trying to find, Hoffman's hidden porn collection?" I heard one of the soldiers say. He was huge, as most gears were, with a high and tight blond haircut, partially obscured by a pair of goggles.
"C'mon, Baird baby! It ain't that bad! Maybe he'll let you take a look at 'em!" An even bigger man, with black skin, clapped him on the shoulder. 'Baird baby' jolted forward slightly from the massive weight on his shoulder, then shot the man a look. A third man, Hispanic by the looks of it, watched them with an amused expression on his face.
"Yeah, yeah. Let's go get swallowed by giant worms, cut up its three, count 'em, three hearts, and go on a damn treasure hunt because Hoffman says so. I swear, if all the stranded weren't complete scum, I might consider joining them sometimes."
"Don't let the door hit ya' on the way out, man," the Hispanic man said joyfully. The man who was whining shot him one of the best 'blow me' looks I've seen, and probably would have laid into him if the fourth man hadn't spoken up.
"Control, this is Delta. Where's that Centaur we were promised?" The man was big with a black do-rag covering his hair with the ends tucked under. He let his lancer hang from one hand while he held his communicator to his ear. "Alright, thanks, Anya." He dropped his hand from his ear.
The Hispanic walked up to him. "Yo Marcus, what did they say?"
He was interrupted by the sound of an engine revving close to them. They all turned and looked down the street at something that was out of my viewing range. "That answer your question?" Do-rag said, before gesturing the team down the street towards what I could only assume was the promised Centaur.
"Shotgun!" the black man called, before racing Baird down the street. I grimaced at their antics. Looks like I had my work cut out for me.
I quickly headed back to where I left Sam and hefted myself over the wall. Vehicles were the hardest to follow, and would have been practically impossible if it hadn't been for the shitty condition of the roads. I assumed that's why they wanted the Centaur tank, instead of a regular 'Dill. The Centaur was better at navigating the new world's geography, which was laden with massive emergence holes, collapsed buildings, and the shells of burnt-out cars. Great for cover, not so great for road trips.
I watched them to see what direction they were heading. Thanks to my stranded contacts, I was in the know about where to find most anything in today's new Sera. I had an idea where this 'abandoned COG outpost might be', but I was praying I was wrong. If they were heading towards the one I was thinking, it would lead them straight through the Complex.
I watched them take a left at Jacinto's gates. It meant that they were heading right towards me. They passed, and I caught another look at the squad who I now took responsibility for. About a quarter of a mile up, the took a right onto another street and out of my sight.
"Here we go," I said to Sam, before dropping off of the wall. The key to following vehicles wasn't to try and follow them directly. The best way was to watch where they were headed, and try to cut them off later on. Usually worked, but I had lost the occasional squad when I had guessed wrong as to where they were headed. Since I had a vague idea where they were going, I wasn't worried about losing Delta.
I crossed the street quickly, Sam on my heels. People living in Jacinto, gears and civilians alike, were a bit touchy about finding stranded near their city. I tried to stay in the shadows as much as possible when near here. I ducked into an abandoned building, using holes in the walls to get from place to place. Most of these were cleared out by gears, which meant I didn't have to worry about stumbling upon anyone or anything unfriendly. My rifle lay slung across my back, and my sidearm was holstered. That didn't mean I wasn't on high alert, though. I was listening for anything out of the ordinary, while also watching Sam for hints as to what might be coming.
About a mile up, I curved to the right. I was going to travel about another mile and a half, heading in a diagonal line, and see if I could meet up with Delta on another street. The farther I got from Jacinto, the more cautious I became. I slid my rifle around so the barrel was the first thing anyone would see, and I unclipped my sidearm from its holster. This area was known for unexpected locust attacks. I ducked inside another building, one that was overlooking the path I expected Delta to take, and headed up the stairs. I motioned for Sam to head out in front of me, sniffing for anything unexpected. Locust weren't always the most dangerous things out there. We called the LaMOS, or Last Man on Sera. They were stranded who hadn't joined a camp. They got it into their mind they were king of the land, and was more often a 'shoot first' type. They thought they had it pretty good nowadays, living along the filth, rats, and locust, and wasn't about to let their turf go.
They would set up landmines in certain buildings, leaving it to blow off some intruders legs. I had lost a friend like that, stumbled upon a trap that was set there by some asshole who was probably long gone. Problem was, land mines didn't work in today's warfare. The reason why they were so popular back in the good old wars was that they blew the leg off some new recruit, forcing the army to spend precious recourses to take care off them before they shipped them home, reminding mom and pop that maybe supporting this war wasn't such a good idea. I once saw a grub get caught up in one, shattering both his legs. He was yelling and grunting for one of his buddies to come help him, making a racket. Finally, another grub walked up and shot him, point blank. No remorse, no offer of help. That was the difference between Humans and Locust. We left no man behind.
The rumble of a Centaur interrupted my thoughts. I looked down my scope to see who it was.
Delta. I breathed a sigh of relief that I had chosen the right path. I relaxed, until I heard Sam's low growling next to me. I watched her, gripping my rifle tighter. "What's wrong?" I asked her, and she whined with unease. She was watching the road, her eyes pointed in the opposite direction of the tank. I pulled my rifle back up and looked out the scope for anything suspicious.
There. Shit. It was an ambush. There was a grub sniper laid up in another building about a quarter klick from me. I saw him signal to someone on the ground, in the direction of the Centaur. I whipped my rifle around, heart beating erratically. I saw the tip of a barrel point out between two buildings. I couldn't even distract Delta by firing on them at least not without giving away my position. I turned, threw my pack on the ground as a resting point for my rifle, and slipped into the prone position .
If I fired upon the ground squad, the sniper was sure to take me out, so I fired on the enemy sniper first. As the shot rang out, I swung the gun over to my left just in time to see all hell break loose.
Whoever was driving the Centaur slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. Locust swarmed out of the alleyway just in front of them, firing upon their vehicle. The tank's rocket system was great for taking out obstacles in the road, but it was slow to fire and ineffective against the number of grubs swarming the vehicle. Whoever was driving backed the rear of the tank against a building, allowing someone to drop out the back. He fired his gun -a lancer by the sound of it- from the protection of the Centaur. When he fell back to reload, I saw his mop of blond hair when he fell back to reload. He was followed by the big black man, who popped up on his left.
There were two grubs firing on the vehicle from the alleyway. I took out one of them, but the other disappeared from view. Someone inside the tank used a rocket to take out a car two grubs were hiding behind, and I shot another who was hiding in a doorway with no door.
The black man fell back to reload, and I watched to see if there was any grubs I could take out without making it seem too obvious. If I did my job right, no one would ever know I was here. I had found out fast that gears weren't always sufficiently thankful when you saved their life, especially if they considered you Stranded.
A flash of action out of the corner of my scope caught my eye. I raised my sight just in time to see the grub that had disappeared earlier come up behind my boys. He raised something -I was too far away to see what- and lunged towards Baird. He twisted around at the same time I pulled the trigger.
My breath seized up and my heart almost stopped. Shoot between heartbeats. A sniper can't afford surprises. How had I forgotten one of the cardinal rules of sniping? Especially after having it drilled into my mind so many times by an excellent teacher?
The round grazed over Baird's shoulder and made contact with the grub's chest. Baird was fine, but he whipped around looking for where the shot came from. The good news was that all the grubs were gone.
"Nice shot, asshole. Now show yourself!" he shouted, turning his head to find my hiding place. I smirked with the pleasure of having my presence known, and for getting credit for the shot. It wasn't often I got to play hero, and have somebody actually know that I was around. As long as we didn't make direct contact, I should be fine.
The black man said something to him and they got into the Centaur, albeit a bit reluctantly. They took off again, although this time they were driving a bit slower. It was almost unnecessary, because in another two klicks they'd show up at the Complex. Then they'd have an entirely new problem, but at least there would be no more grubs.
I relaxed into the filthy floor as they drove by. I caught another glimpse of them as the drove by, Baird was scowling out the window while the Latino man watched carefully for more grubs. Sam rumbled as they passed, and I patted her side.
"Good girl. Thanks for spotting the sniper for me." She gave my hand a lick before standing up and shaking herself. She headed towards the back of the room, looking down the rubble that we had used to climb up. I gave one more look towards the setting sun before getting to my knees and slinging my pack over my shoulder, getting ready to leave. If I cut through the camp, I could probably set up before Delta squad showed up at the abandoned military base.
As I stood up, the weather-worn floor started cracking beneath my feet. My eyes flew open as the floor began to give. I started forward just as my perch gave way. Sam gave a short, nervous bark and I grabbed for something to hold onto, anything to hold onto, but there was nothing. Suddenly I was falling, plunging through the air to the rubble below, about two stories down.
I slammed into the ground hard. The world spun around me as I tried to catch my breath. There was a shooting pain on my side, and I grasped at it. My eyes widened when my fingers came back slicked with blood. Sam was barking on what was left of my perch, and she was the last thing I saw before the world faded to a merciful black.
I woke some time later, but there was no way of knowing how much time had actually passed. My skull felt ready to burst, and my side was screaming obscenities at me. Sam was licking my face, and it took me a moment to muster the strength to push her away. It was dark now, which meant it was a bad idea to be stuck outside.
I slowly counted to three before attempting to sit up. My ribs felt like they were splitting apart, and I clutched at them with a low moan. I took a few deep breaths before rolling to my knees. My heartbeat pounded in my head. Sam whined nervously and I placed a hand on her back to steady myself before attempting to stand. It took three tries and a lot of cursing through clenched teeth, but I finally made it to my feet. My pack was still slung around my shoulders, so I pulled my lighter out of one of the side pockets.
I pulled my jacket and shirt up slowly and clicked open the lighter. The small flame flickered into existence, giving me the light I needed to assess my injuries. I had a gash, about four inches long, that was dripping blood. I also had some deep bruises that foretold of at least one broken rib.
I pulled the out package of jerky Momma had given me, and dumped it into my pack. I took off my coat before folding the jerky's white cloth wrapping into a small square. I pressed it to my side, wincing slightly, before tying my jacket tightly around my stomach to hold the makeshift bandage in place.
My headache had eased slightly, and I took a swig of water to help clear the fabric feeling in my mouth. Feeling more alert now, I assessed my options.
I couldn't go back to the camp. Providing they even had the medical supplies I needed, it was already night. The camp was locked down tight after sundown, as Dix had ordered.
That only left the gears I was trailing. They would have a kit onboard the Centaur. I was reluctant to steal anything from the COG, especially something that might be needed by another gear, but then I remembered the scene from earlier. Baird owed me his life. A life for a life… Wasn't that what I had always been taught?
My mind made up, I headed for the abandoned COG outpost. Each step was torture, and I had to work to catch my breath, as the jacket was still cinched tight around my midsection. Sam stayed pressed to my side, a willing handhold to steady me if I needed it.
I didn't bother with keeping to back streets and alleys this time. It was too dark to see me anyway, and I had my sidearm in my hand, trigger finger at the ready.
Finally, finally, I could see the faint outline of a Centaur in the distance, and hear the soft murmur of voices. We were at the outpost. Ducking down, I slipped into the cover of some overgrown bushes. I crept closer until I could make out some of their conversations.
"This is so bullshit," one of the men said, and I'd bet my left hand it was Baird from before.
"Come on, man, it ain't all that bad! We got our health, our guns, and each other. Life don't get much better than that!" I heard another man say in a booming voice.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. And we're standing here outside a shit-hole, freezing our asses off, waiting for the two numb-nuts inside to get tired of playing hide and seek so we can quit guarding the tank that nobody here has the balls to try and take. I see how your optimism is really getting you places, I really do."
I would have laughed had I not been in so much pain. I had to crouch down to get past them and my side felt like it was on fire. I clenched my teeth against the pain and motioned for Sam to stay put. She laid down without a sound, and I cased out the Centaur.
Its' back end was facing me, and next to it were the blond and black gears I met earlier. They were standing about ten meters to the right of the Centaur, facing a dilapidated building, with their backs towards me. I crept a few meters to the left, placing the tank between me and the gears. I was about five meters from the tank before I started forward. This was the easy part; the hard part would be actually getting into the tank to grab the first aid kit.
The only way into the tank was either through the gun turret or the back. I chose the back, figuring it would be easier to get in and out of without attracting attention.
I opened the rear hatch of the Centaur quietly, keeping an eye trained on the remnant of Delta squad to make sure they didn't turn around. If they did, I was toast. I climbed up onto the rear and slid my hand underneath for the kit.
The radio inside the Centaur crackled to life as my hand rested upon the cool metal box of the kit. I opened the kit and rummaged through it, pulling out a suture pack.
"We're screwed," a vaguely familiar voice said, and my head snapped up. My heart was pounding before I realized it was coming through the radio. It must have been the other pair of Delta.
"Welcome to Jamerson Depot. Proper identification is required for entry," a mechanical voice said, albeit faintly.
The radio crackled, and a gruff voice said, "You gotta be kidding me."
I ignored the rest of the conversation, focusing instead on finding some pain pills in the kit. I had just yanked the small white bottle out of the metal box when I heard, "Baird, can you get a blast charge ready?"
The answer came from the radio, and from outside. "Of course. Regular or extra strength?"
"Extra strength," the radio crackled again. "We'll recon until you're ready."
"Roger, boss man. Baird out." The radio fizzled out and hummed quietly and I heard live Baird sigh from my right. "Looks like we've got some work to do. Mind helping me with this?"
I heard footsteps approach the tank and I snapped into action. I shoved the kit back under the seat and whirled around to jump out of the tank. Unfortunately, the gear's shadow was growing larger, and before I could make a break for it I was trapped in the back of the Centaur, staring at the two gears, neither of which looked very happy.
"What the hell?" Baird said, taking a step forward. Too close.
I attacked him, leaping out in an offensive maneuver I hadn't used since living in Jacinto. The move was stupid, another reaction born of instinct and fear. And it was hopeless. He was a trained gear, not a small girl who was injured and on the verge of passing out.
And man, was he fast. I'd forgotten how fast gears could be, how they could move and strike like cobras. He knocked me off as through brushing away a fly. His hands slammed into me and sent me backwards. I don't think he meant to strike that hard—probably just intended to keep me away—but my lack of coordination interfered with my ability to respond. Unable to catch my footing, I started to fall, heading straight toward the ground at a twisted angle, hip-first. It was going to hurt. A lot.
Only it didn't.
Just as quickly as he blocked me, Baird reached out and caught my arm, keeping me upright. I was left hanging there, his grasp tight around my wrist. I followed his line of sight and saw he was staring at the suture pack I still had clenched in my hand; in the hand he was holding. He snatched it away from me, gave it a courtesy glance, and tossed it over to the other gear.
"Well, well, well. Look what we have here. A thief in the Centaur." He gave me a pleased look, having caught me red handed, before looking over his shoulder. "Hey, Cole, you wanna shoot her, or shall I?"
Author's Note-Hello again! Thanks for reading, and thanks to Kade Riggs and Rock For The Cross for betaing this chapter.
Soo...what did you think? What's going to happen to our beloved hero? How is she going to talk her way out of this one? The world may never know!
Anything you wanna see happen? Anything your confused about? Anything you liked? Hated? Send me a review and let me know! As always, reviewers get a preview of the next chapter!
