Sceniu Complex

Six Years After E-day

But he'd still know she'd been crying for hours. No amount of sympathy or tablets could change the fact that their kids were dead - and their parents, and cousins, and half their friends. The fact that the Santiagos were like millions of other utterly broken and bereaved people across Tyrus - across the whole world - didn't ease the pain one bit.

-Dominic Santiago on his wife's depression.

The young girl hummed quietly to herself as she carried her heavy load home. It was ration day, and she had stood in line all day to get her and her 'father's' share of food; mostly dried beans and rice, and a few medical supplies. She already knew from experience that the medicine would be traded for booze.

She was happy for the time away from school, especially because standing in line had taken longer than a typical school day. Family rations were tied up in the children attending the one large school left in Jacinto, in an effort to maintain some sense of normalcy. However, the school was not immune to the changes the grubs had made to society. Classes like science were now mostly based on survival skills, such as what roots were safe to eat and how to navigate by using the stars. Classroom etiquette had changed, to the point where bullying could mean going home with a broken leg instead of a black eye. Even the teachers were not untouched by some of the older kids, and many kept a pistol holstered on their belt.

But the young girl wasn't worried about this as she adjusted the heavy box in her arms. Nobody bothered her on her way home, protected by the watchful gaze of some gears. There always were a few on guard duty, especially after the food riots had caused major damage to humanity's last stronghold. There was an undercurrent of life to Jacinto; mothers calling children to dinner, kids playing and screaming in the street, gears calling out to one another as they left or returned from assignments. But there still was a watchfulness to everyone's movements, always peering out of the side of their eyes to watch for grubs, or if their neighbor was stealing their dinner, or if the population control division were looking to make trouble.

She turned down her lonely street, leaving the hum of activity behind her. All housing had been controlled by the COG, but everyone knew the kind of people who lived in this part of town. Scum, alcoholics, drug addicts, and hookers. And she called this place home.

Pausing by an alleyway, she gave a long look to her medium-height apartment building, where hell waited for her. She grimaced, reluctant to enter the building's dingy, stifling confines. Despite the dangers of staying on the streets, especially in this part of town, she was torn between the two worlds. She quickly chose to brave the streets for just a few moments longer, deliberately turning on her heels and heading into the nearest alley. She adjusted her load, wincing as the rough corners of the box passed over her fresh bruises.

"Kiki," she called quietly. "Kiki, where are you?"

A quiet meow awarded her efforts. An undersized, grey and white cat emerged from the shadows, happy to see the girl. The girl sighed, set her load down, and sat criss-cross on the dirty and cracked pavement. The cat climbed into her lap, purring as she started scratching behind its ears.

"You like that?" she asked, not expecting an answer. The small cat sniffed at her pocket, and the girl smiled. She pulled out a bit of dried meat she had saved from her measly lunch. "You're pretty smart, huh?"

The cat gobbled up the measly meal, and sniffed her pockets for more. Finding none, she contented herself to curling up the girls' lap and licking her hand with her rough, sandpaper tongue. The girl watched her, stroking her soft but dirty fur before sighing.

"What am I going to do, huh?" she asked. "I really don't want to go back there."

She spent the next few moments enjoying Kiki's soft fur against her palm. She started when a man, obviously drunk, stumbled into the alleyway. He hiccupped, swaying a bit, before his blood-shot eyes locked on her. "Hey, I know you!" he said with malice in his voice. He started for her, but he tripped and had to grab the brick wall next to him to stay standing. "You're Bane's kid, ain't ya?"

Not responding, she pushed Kiki out of her lap and hurriedly grabbed the box of food beside her. She ran as fast as the box's weight would allow, fleeing before the man had the chance to reach her. Bane was her caretaker, although the term was used loosely. If the drunk man reported seeing her in the alleyway, she instinctively knew that there would be hell to pay.

She slowed down when she entered the apartment complex. The foyer was dim, and smelled musty. There were dark puddles in the corners of the room where drunks often passed out. She started up the stairs, not sparing a glance for the broken elevator. Landlords had to stay within strict energy quotas, and luxuries such as the elevator had become nonexistent.

She made it to their fifth floor apartment, after stopping twice on the trek up the stairs to catch her breath. She reached into the pocket of her ripped jeans, taking out a tarnished key. She held her breath as the key tumbled in the lock, silently praying that Bane wasn't home, or at least wouldn't hear her.

She heard footsteps approach from inside the apartment, and she shrank away from the door in fear. The deadbolt turned over, and the heavy door was wrenched open. There he stood, looking like death warmed over. His eyes were red and blurry, the result of too much drinking. He had a three-day old beard growing on his jaw, and his clothes hadn't been washed in days.

"What the fuck took so damn long?" he spat at her, bloodshot eyes narrowed.

Muttering a curse when she didn't answer, he grabbed her by the arm and yanked her inside the apartment, slamming the door behind him. He threw her key back at her after grabbing it out of the lock. She set the heavy box on the broken kitchen table, stooping to pick up the key and then backing away. He pulled items out at random, tossing the inconsequential items away from him, most landing next to the box. One bag of rice spilled over, and she winced as the precious granules hit the floor, knowing it would be hell to clean up.

He found what he was looking for, a small bottle of painkillers, and downed a small handful. He washed them down with a swallow of moonshine, before turning his accusatory gaze on her. "Make some damn food. And don't forget, you don't eat tonight, understood?"

"Yes," she nodded slightly, hoping he'd leave soon. The 'bed without food' bit was just another way of torturing her. This one she could get around, however. He couldn't stand to be in the same room as her, so how would he know if she pilfered a bit while she was cooking?

He gave her another disgusted look, as if she was the one drunk and disheveled, "Yes what?" he spat at her.

"Yes, sir." she emphasized the last word. It was a mind trick, used to make her believe he was better than her. By no rights did he deserve the title. He wasn't even a gear, using her as an excuse to get out of serving. Every time recruitment came knocking on their door, he gave them the same song and dance about her mother dieing, and if he was to be gone on missions, who would take care of her?

He shot her one last disgusted look before turning and wobbling to his bedroom. He collapsed onto the dirty sheets, taking another swallow of the ever-present booze.

She quietly got to work in the kitchen, boiling the rice and beans together. She wasn't the best cook, as her mother had never taught her, so she mostly learned by trial and error. Rice and beans was usually a safe bet, but there was no telling while he was in this mood.

She padded softly into the back bedroom, holding the bowl of rice and beans in front of her like a shield. The bowl was scalding her fingers from the heat of the food, and her fingertips burned. He sat up when he heard her come in, rustling the filthy blankets on his bed.

"Give me that," he snarled, snatching the bowl out of her grasp. He took a bite, chewing quickly before spitting out the mouthful on the floor. "What is this shit?" he spat, glaring at her with bloodshot eyes. "You trying to poison me?" He threw the bowl at her. The scalding grains of rice flecked her skin, burning her wherever they touched. She cried out, scraping at the flecks of searing heat along her body, but she just succeeded in burning her hands. He watched her with a slightly satisfied look on his face, before brushing past her out of the bedroom.

"You make me sick," he said, just before she heard the front door open. "I'm outta here." He slammed the door shut, the loud bang echoing throughout the apartment.

She sighed, ignoring the wetness of her eyes. "God help me," she whispered to herself, brushing at a few last sticky grains of rice. Armed with a damp and dirty towel, she wiped at the smear of food on the wall.

Heart filling with anger, she paused in her efforts. Sinking down against the wall, she rested her head on her knees and closed her eyes.. Her fist found the small locket around her neck that she secretly continued to wear. If he knew about it, it would almost certainly be swiped for booze. She rubbed her thumb over the engraved initials. S.C…Sylvia Carla… The last letter had broken off with the other piece of the locket. She examined her dead brother's and mother's faces through wet eyes. Kneeling on the threadbare carpet, she began to pray, just as her mother had taught her to do whenever she needed some divine intervention.

"Dear God," she whispered, "Please bring me back to my family. I miss them. Oh, how I miss them. My mother…my father…they can't all be dead…" She sniffed, clutching the locket tighter in her hand. "Please let my father come rescue me from this place…"

A loud snort from her left interrupted her. "Aww…ain't that precious." He was back, leaning against the doorframe with a sneer on his face. She sprang to her feet, hoping beyond hope that he hadn't seen the locket.

"You miss your daddy?" he asked her in a patronizing tone, stalking towards her. "You think praying will bring him back? Will bring anyone back?" he knelt down next to her. His eyes were oddly focused, and pain radiated from them. Transfixed, she idly wondered who he had lost to make him so cold.

"Prayers are like dreams and wishes. They don't come true. Everyone you ever knew, everyone you ever loved, is dead. Understand? They are all dead!" he roared the last part at her, swiping his arm along the dresser next to them. Empty bottles and trash rained down on her, and she held her hands over her head as protection. "Don't you ever forget that."

He spat the last words at her, standing up. His hands were shaking with anger, so he wrapped them around the half-full bottle of whiskey. He ignored her as he stalked out of the room, slamming the front door even harder this time around.

He's right, you know, the sickeningly sweet voice in her head whispered to her. They must be dead, after all this time. Either that, or they just don't give a damn about you.

Alone, beaten down, and abused, she finally gave in to the voice of doubt. She unclipped the locket from around her neck.

"What's the point of pretending anymore?" she said to the empty apartment, her voice sounding cold and defeated even to her own ears. "They are gone. I know it, Bane knows it. It's time to grow up and move on." She gave the locket a hard look, the spinning chain swirling her mother's face around to smile at her. She shoved the locket into her pocket, angrily pawing at the moisture in her eyes.

It was official. Sylvia was dead and gone, along with the family whose mockingly cheerful smiles still radiated from the inside of her pocket.

Only Bri remained.

A hand shook me awake, and I snapped to, eyes searching the blackness for a threat. For one muddled moment, I thought that he had found me again, as if he had miraculously come back from the dead.

A vaguely familiar voice cursed. "Shit, sorry. Didn't mean to startle you." I heard some fishing around to my left, and I slunk across the wall. I drew my sidearm, not fully registering how fruitless such an act would be. A light click, and the room flooded with light.

Dom was slowly straightening up, after crouching to light the lantern. Sam was half-crouched as well, examining the room for whatever had startled me. Marcus was the only one not awake, and his soft snores filled the room.

Finally realizing I had again reacted to a nonexistent threat, I slouched against the wall. "Good morning," I said sarcastically to Dom. "I trust you slept well?"

"Right…" he murmured, watching me closely. They had both woken me at random intervals during the night, making sure I didn't have a concussion. I must have slipped into a deeper sleep before they had the chance to wake me again, giving me the opportunity to lapse into nightmares. Dom coughed awkwardly. "You looked like you were having one hell of a nightmare. Anything you wanna talk through?"

I shook my head, pinching the bridge of my nose with one hand. "I'm good." We paused, not exactly sure where to go from here. I watched him, waiting for him to make the next move. When he didn't do anything, I snorted. Well…this is awkward.

He eyed me warily, evidently disagreeing with my own assessment. He stood. "C'mon. Let's take a walk." He held a hand out to me, hefting me to my feet. Noticing my empty pistol, he grabbed a box of ammo off a shelf. I grabbed my pack in one hand, Marcus' pillow in the other. As we walked out the room, I dumped the pillow on Marcus's head, delighting when I heard the slight disrupt in his snores.

The hallway was short, and dimly lit. Something occurred to me belatedly. "Is it just my imagination, or did you make me sing the alphabet song last night?

He chuckled. "It's the easiest way of testing to make sure you were lucid, without requiring me to get outta bed."

I thought that over, then shrugged. Hey, whatever worked, right?

He headed out a fire escape, holding the door open for me and letting me walk through first. We were on a balcony, facing east. The sky was still dark, and the ocean reflected the inky black. I let the salty sea air blow my hair back, relishing the chill of the wind.

Dom sat the box of bullets on the railing next to me. I stared him down, not touching the box. His eyebrows knitted together, then understanding lit his brown eyes. "You can pay me back."

I smirked, then flipped open the small white box. "Deal," I said, laying out a handful of mags on the railing between us. We both got to work, and for the longest time the only sound was of bullets sliding into place and Sam's soft breathing as she caught some more shuteye by my feet. As the silence got to me, I asked the only thing I could think of. "Who's Maria?"

He started, halting in his re-loading efforts. He blinked down at me. "How do you know who she is?"

I shrugged. "Back at New Hope, when Cole told you about me, you asked if it was Maria. Who was she?"

"She was my wife," he said, setting down another full mag. "She…she wasn't well when she left. I've been looking for her ever since, about ten years now. I know she's out there, somewhere. Here, I've got a picture." He patted his chest in a familiar motion, then cursed quietly. "Damn. It's in my chest plates. Remind me to show you it later."

I nodded, choosing to keep my mouth shut lest I told him how idiotic I thought he was being. If someone disappeared for a week in today's Sera, they were considered dead, let alone ten years.

The sky started to lighten, and somewhere a rooster crowed. Because of the severe rationing, it wasn't uncommon to find citizens raising their own livestock. Stranded did the same, although those who had the means and the balls found it easier to hunt wild game.

We ran out of mags before we ran out of bullets. I chambered a round in my pistol, then dropped and reloaded the magazine before returning it. I placed the spare mags and bullets in my pack. The familiar weight was comforting to me.

We stood together in comfortable silence, watching as the sun slowly woke the world. Every so often, I'd flick my gaze over to Dom, wondering when he'd say something. Finally, he seemed to notice this and said, "So…uh, anything you wanna talk about?

I thought for a second. "Well, am I stuck here or…" I tried to act nonchalantly, as if I wasn't hoping beyond hope that I could stay.

"It's Marcus' call," he said. "But as long as you don't shoot anybody in the ass, I don't see a problem with you staying."

I tried to tamp down the grin that was slowly spreading across my face. "Well," I said sarcastically, saving face. "If Baird runs his mouth one more time…"

He laughed. "Baird's almost tolerable as long as everyone accepts the fact that he's smarter than everyone else."

I smirked. "You know, I used to think that there was some tragic soul that was covered up behind his sarcasm and surly temper. Now I realize he's just an asshole."

"Yeah," he chuckled, trailing off onto another subject. "You're alright, kid." He reached out to tousle my hair affectionately, and I immediately danced out of his reach. I saw the shock in his eyes, and the apology came immediately to my lips.

"I'm sorry. I just have a problem with people…touching me."

He nodded, still looking slightly shocked. "Understandable, I guess."

We examined each other, not exactly sure what had changed. One minute, the mood had felt familiar, almost like…home. When I pulled away from him, it was like I had taken that moment with me. We were back to being strangers, again. The wind blew the taste of saltwater up to us, and I shivered against the chill.

He shifted his weight awkwardly. "Well...maybe it's time we..."

The clanging of the door behind us interrupted him. Cole peeked his massive head out, smiling when he found us. "Yo, Damon Baby!" he called over his shoulder. "They're out here!"

I wasn't sure who Damon was. I nudged Sam awake with the toe of my foot, striding towards the door. Today was my first 'official' day with Delta, and I was determined to make it a good one.

Baird waited for us with Cole just inside the door. "Morning, assholes," he called. Then he nonchalantly reached over and slapped my ass as I walked into the base.

I froze for half a second, before whipping around and catching him full in the face with my fist. I went for another blow in his solar plexus, but he blocked it.

"Shit, calm down!" I heard him grunt, but I wouldn't, couldn't obey. It was instinct born of too many close calls with death. I would not be a victim, not again.

I stepped inside his guard, trying for another punch to the jaw. Before I could pull my fist back, he grabbed my arm, and used it to spin me around, my back flush with his chest.

He bear hugged me, holding me tight. Panicked, I threw an elbow to his ribs, and I heard him grunt in my ear. He didn't let go, so I rammed my foot into his instep. His arms slackened, and I spun myself out of his grasp, pulling my sidearm as I went.

Everyone froze, staring at me and Baird. His head was in my sights, my finger on the trigger. I vaguely registered how he had his arms up in a surrendering gesture.

"Bri?" I vaguely heard Dom talking to me. "Bri, listen to me. Don't shoot the asshole. He didn't mean anything by it."

Now that the battle rush had faded, I could take in my surroundings- the mass of gears who had paused to watch the fight, who wouldn't look to kindly on me shooting one of their own. How Cole had Sam by the haunches, and she was fighting him, trying to get to Baird. I did a slow scan of everyone watching me, wondering if any of them were going to tackle me. I saw Marcus' face in the crowd, and I lowered my gun.

"Don't you ever," I snapped at him, leaving the threat hanging in the air. I holstered my pistol, and everyone around me breathed a sigh of relief.

Dom came up to me, noticeably leaving a foot of space between us, although I could tell he wanted to mother me. "Shit, are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Baird snapped, rubbing his jaw. Dom's eyes narrowed a split second before he turned to yell at Baird.

Ignoring the myriad of looks and whispered statements trailing me like a cloak, and started off for the cafeteria. Cole released Sam, and she padded over to my side, growling at anyone in my path, which wasn't alot. I kept my head down, not looking at anyone. I was shaking, now that the adrenaline had faded. Instinct had taken over when Baird touched me, and I had reacted out of fear and anger rather than common sense. I knew he wouldn't go farther than that, but I couldn't afford to just assume that about anyone. I had seen girls who had assumed the guys they were with were good guys, and they ended up beaten and used, if not worse.

It took me a minute to notice that Marcus had fallen in beside me. I glanced up at him, feeling oddly comforted by his huge, hulking figure next to me. I waited for him to speak.

He cleared his throat. "You shouldn't hit people like that," he said, but I could tell he was only saying because of some misplaced sergeant duty, and not because he actually believed it. I examined him. His walk was stiff, and his jaw was clenched tightly. Was Marcus...pissed? Only question was, was he pissed at me for going after Baird, or at Baird for starting the fight in the first place?

I rolled my eyes, going back to the conversation. "Oh, yeah? I couldn't resist."

He grunted noncommittally. When a pair of talking gears didn't part fast enough for him, he leaned into the crowd, like a war horse on the battlefield. He didn't even look up when Dom and Cole joined us, but when he spoke I knew it was directed towards Dom. "Any reason why you didn't interfere?"

Dom glanced up in surprise, obviously noting Marcus' mood. "She had it handled," Dom explained. "If Baird had gone after her, I would have put him in the ground. She needs to know she can handle herself."

I looked at him, surprised he understood. He winked at me before patting Marcus on the shoulder. I had a feeling he was the only person alive that could have gotten away with that. Marcus nodded slightly, but I could tell he wished Dom had put Baird in the ground anyway.

Because of the small hallway, we split into two different groups. I fell back with Cole, observing how Dom treated Marcus. Everyone else gave Marcus a wide berth, keeping their distance. His huge biceps demanded their own respect, and people were more than happy to give it. Marcus didn't strike me as the type who had to prove themself, but when he did people ended up in the hospital. Dom was different. He had an easy way about Marcus, treating him like he would any other person in the world.

I gestured with my chin to the pair in front of us. "So…Dom and Marcus. They're pretty close, yeah?"

Cole nodded. "Hells yeah. Closer than brothers. There used to be a third one that they ran around with. He died before all this happened though. Carlos…or something like that."

We reached the cafeteria, and the remnants of Delta ducked inside for breakfast. I paused, thinking hard. Carlos…Carla. Hadn't I been named after someone? But a different name…the name I had before I became Bri…

I thought back, flinching at the memory of my brother's and best friend's body's laying still and cold on the pavement when Hell burst through our streets. I shivered, and decided I didn't want to remember.

Not now.

Not ever.

Authors note- Yay! Another chapter! Huge thanks to rockforthecross74 for betaing this! : D

Sorry this is short, but I really liked ending it there. Next chapter we'll meet some familiar faces, such as Dizzy and Mataki. Maybe even a bit of Hoffman thrown in to keep things fresh.

So let me know what you thought! As always, reviewers get a preview of the next chapter! : D