Pelruan Town

Present Day

"I want you to understand how serious our situation is. You might think you know what war means, but you don't. Most of humankind is dead. All of the cities are gone, even Jacinto. The only humans left alive – apart from Stranded – are on their way here by ship because they've got nowhere left to run. Do you understand the stakes? We're facing extinction. That's why we're moving in. And it's not a request – it's going to happen."

Marcus Fenix addressing the citizens of Pelruan about the incoming Jacinto population

By the third time Dom glanced over to check on Bri, she was gone.

He sighed as he noticed her absence. All day long she'd been crawling out of her own skin to get away from them. It had taken more than one direct order from Marcus or Anya to keep her from slinking away from the squad. He could sympathize with her need to go and explore; he didn't feel quite comfortable on this island. Ephyra had been his home for his entire life, even as it slowly sank into unfamiliarity because of Hammer strikes, grub incursions, or simple dereliction. Everything that had once been recognizable – the gate surrounding the Fenix estate that he and his brother used to climb, the first house he had rented with Maria, the park he and his family would visit on leave – was now utterly destroyed and drowned beneath the ocean.

He wrestled hard for a moment over whether or not he should go after her. This was a large island, and they'd already figured out that not everyone was friendly. She can handle herself, he told himself sternly and remained sitting.

Again he was afraid of overstepping. Again he was terrified of accidentally driving her away.

By the time he turned back to his dinner, Marcus was staring at him. "Want me to track her down?" he asked low enough that no one would overhear.

Dom shook his head. "She'll be back," he tried to bolster his voice with confidence he didn't truly feel. Every time she stepped out of sight Dom had been strangled with a ridiculous fear that it would be the last time he'd see her. She'd vanish again, or walk away like Maria had. Maria's leaving had left him with trust issues; he wanted – no, needed – to keep the people who mattered close to him before they disappeared. Marcus seemed to tolerate it, but Dom understood Bri would not.

At least living on an island had one benefit: she could only walk so far before she hit water.

Marcus was still looking at him like he expected him to change his mind. He dragged his chair closer to the overturned milk crate the others were using as a table and motioned for Baird to deal him in. See, Marcus? I'm fine. He wrinkled his nose slightly at the hand Baird had dealt him – a two of clubs and four of spades – before tossing in his portion of the blind.

The poker game was mere distraction, but he wasn't the only one looking sidetracked. Cole was slowly shuffling the pair of cards in his massive hands, looking like he was trying to pick his moment. Dom watched him glance worriedly at Bernie, and suddenly understood.

Bernie had recognized some of those Stranded. And the reunion hadn't sounded joyful.

"Bernie, you want to do some liquid resource investigation at that handy little bar?" Cole asked, ponying up a few chips as a wager.

Bernie called his bet. "Maybe tomorrow," she said. "But thanks."

Dom wordlessly checked, and Baird did the same, allowing Cole to spearhead this particular conversation. Dom didn't mind having the hard talks, but sometimes Cole could put people at ease in a way he couldn't. Maria used to tease him about being too earnest, too intense. Cole was more relaxed, like nothing ever really touched him. Maybe it was all just a front, but nothing seemed to cut him up inside.

Bernie watched in silence as Baird laid down the flop – a king, a five, and a three – and shifted her cards around as if she could turn them into something different. "Okay," she finally agreed, laying her hands down in an obvious fold. "I'll tell you a horror story. With monsters in it. And one of them is me."

"Ain't prying, Bernie," Cole started to backpedal, giving her a way out. "But we know you're troubled."

"Who isn't?" she said, watching another round of betting pass between them. "The whole army's a psychiatric ward. Our civvies are stressed shitless, too. Can't live in a world like this and stay normal."

Dom's thoughts immediately jumped to Bri. How much had she endured over the years? How much had she suffered because he hadn't been there for her? How many times had she been afraid and close to death? He should ask Bernie – later, after they'd gotten through this particular conversation – about how hard was it really to survive as a Stranded. He wasn't sure if he was imagining the worst after what had happened to Maria, or if he couldn't even begin to imagine what that kind of life was like.

Baird had laid down a four on the river. A straight, he realized idly. He should have bet more.

"No point pissing around with a long tale of woe," Bernie continued. "I was raped by Stranded a couple of years ago. So, I went after them. I killed two of the guys, but the third got away. That's about it. Anyone want to play another hand?"

Everyone in the room went very still. The tension was almost palpable as everyone digested what she had said. Anya's eyes sank shut as she shook her head almost imperceptibly. Dom felt like he had been punched in the gut. Immediately he reached out to grab her shoulder but thought twice about touching her. "Shit, Bernie," he said, breaking the silence. "I'm sorry. I had no idea." Then something she had said earlier came swirling back, and he frowned. "You're not a monster. You were dishing out justice." So was I. I'll do it again for you, Bernie. Dom liked to think he wouldn't kill for just anyone, but Bernie had been his instructor during Commando training. She had known and served with Carlos. It was becoming exceedingly rare to have those kinds of ties with people. Mostly those people were dead.

"Okay," Bernie said, but it didn't sound like she was agreeing with him. "It needn't have happened. This gang of bastards spent most of its time cruising the islands, killing, robbing, raping – preying on the other Stranded. I happened to have my nice big Longshot, so I put a few holes in them. Then they came back. I can probably handle one man, but three – no."

"I told you they were friggin' animals," Baird interjected. He tossed his cards on top of the pot – two kings. Dom wondered for a second if he was the kind of guy to cheat. "Dom's right. Why are you the monster? Because you shot a few? That's just pest control."

"I didn't exactly shoot the two I tracked down."

Baird shrugged. "Good call. Why waste the ammo?"

"So," Marcus spoke up. "What are you planning to do when you find the third guy?" Of course Marcus would cut straight to the point. He was probably worried about Dom making a habit out of tracking down rapist scum and wile-y coyoting them off cliffsides.

"I know what I want to do," Bernie answered, "And you're going to give me that disapproving Fenix look."

"Is that what's really bothering you? What I think?"

"We've got a legal system, right?" Cole looked like he was regretting starting this. "Martial law. Rules are clear. Boss man's comin' soon."

"You saw how Prescott handled Bri's trial," Dom snapped, feeling the anger rush into his chest. "Prescott didn't seem too keen to see justice done then."

"Yeah, but Prescott recognized Bri," Baird observed. "There's some kind of bad history there." Everyone stared at him for a beat. "What? None of you saw that?"

"Speaking of Bri," Marcus interrupted before Dom could puzzle out Baird's meaning. "Anyone else notice that she's gone AWOL on an island with a known rapist present?"

Dom remained in his chair for two, maybe three milliseconds before he was on his feet and reaching for his lancer. He was sprinting for the door in the next breath. It was an instinctual call to action – no plan, just gut reaction. His senses started to close into the tunnel-like focus he got before a battle, so he almost missed that Baird had jumped to his feet and was following him out the door. They bull-rushed the door at the same instance, their shoulder pads catching and holding them both back. Before Dom could snarl something at Baird, Marcus' hand grabbed Baird by the backplate of his armor and held him back for the split second it took for Dom to slink out the door and into the night.


As I sprinted through the darkness, Sam running by my side, I came around the corner of the first building and almost ran face first into Dom's chestplate. I skidded to a stop, my boots scrambling for purchase on the gravel, and I would have fallen on my ass if he hadn't reached out and grabbed me. "Are you okay?" he asked worriedly, not letting go of me even after I found my footing. "Why are you running?"

"There's someone on the water," I told him. "Signaling with Morse code – a mirror, and a flashlight. They're headed this way." My voice sounded slightly breathless. I stepped back out of his grip.

"Stranded?" Baird asked. I hadn't noticed him standing behind Dom, but I nodded at him.

Dom pressed a button on his comm. "Marcus, you listening?" Of course he would be; the sergeant never took off his comm piece. "Bri said there's Stranded on the water, heading this way. Yeah, we found her."

Baird squinted at me accusingly. "Is there some reason you can't manage to sit still for ten friggin' minutes?"

I felt a wave of guilt wash over me. Had they been looking for me this whole time? Is that why they were out in full armor – on patrol? Couldn't I step away for even a moment without Dom losing his mind?

Dom held a finger to his ear, listening to whatever Marcus was saying. "Wilco," he finally said, dropping his hand back to his rifle. "Marcus wants us to regroup at the town hall. We'll come up with a plan."

The three of us turned and jogged back up the hill. I glanced back worriedly at the water, but the dim lights were swallowed up by distance. Maybe they were fishermen? Did people fish the oceans at this time of night? My stomach knotted with anxiety as every instinct told me to run. I knew instinctively that they were Stranded, and they were here to do harm.

And that meant fighting humans. Something I'd never done before.

Could I do it? Pull the trigger on another human life? Would I even have a choice not to?

I sprinted after Dom and Baird in the dark to rejoin Delta. In the distance I could hear the Ravens spinning up, getting ready to take to the air. Marcus was watching me before I'd come to a stop. "What did you see?"

"There's someone out on the water. They're using mirrors and a flashlight to communicate in Morse, and they're headed this way."

"Alright, call me paranoid. Ravens are doing recon. Anya, communicate with Gavriel and tell him to keep the civilians indoors and leave the fighting to us. Then get into the 'dill and patrol the landward boundary. Everyone else grab a buddy and pick your spot on the shore. We'll see if they make land." Marcus gave us our orders like he was reciting them off a list. "Rules of engagement," he continued before anyone could move. "Remember we have them."

"Yeah," Baird scoffed. "But do they?"

"They're not grubs. Self-defense or defense of COG citizens when presented with lethal or injurious force." Marcus sounded like he'd memorized that straight from the Gear handbook. Hell, he probably had. Cole tapped Baird on the shoulder and motioned for him to move out instead of launching into an argument. It almost surprised me that he went. Marcus followed Mataki down to the eastern edge of the island, near where I had just been.

Dom started to head back down the hill but I shook my head. "I do better with heights. More sight lines, better shots." I slung my lancer and brought out my longshot. "I'm going to head up the hill, pick them off from a distance."

Dom hesitated. I could see him wavering, trying to decide whether to keep me close or keep me further from the fight. Finally he gave me a curt nod. "Keep safe," he ordered me. "If they make it past us on the beach, go find Anya and the 'Dill."

"Be safe," I echoed him before turning and heading further inland. At the furthest edge of the town had been an old, white church. It only looked to be about two stories tall, but it had been built on the highest part of the hill. Even better, it had a bell tower that was open on all four side, giving a complete view of the town. It was the highest point around that was still in range of the beach. I had already picked it out as a potential sniper's nest during the day.

As I turned the corner I saw Anya speaking to Mayor Gavriel. He didn't look happy. As I rushed past I heard a snippet of their conversation: "I can give the order to shelter in place, but my people aren't going to be happy. We have dealt with these Stranded before. Let us-"

I didn't pause to hear the rest of the argument, although I thought letting some locals fight might have been a good idea. The beach was a couple kilometers long. That was a lot of land for one squad to cover. On the other hand, if any locals got killed fighting a battle we had incited it would be a lot harder to stay in their good graces. Leave it to Marcus to always be thinking three steps ahead.

Luckily the church was unlocked. I let Sam in first, then shut and locked the door behind me. "Guard," I commanded Sam, pointing at the wooden door. If anyone came in here after me, they would be greeted by a pissed off guard dog. Sam sniffed the door a few times, then stepped back and sat. I already knew she wouldn't leave that spot until I gave her a release command.

Inside the church were several rows of simple, wooden pews. It smelled faintly of burnt candles and incense. Behind the pulpit I could see a staircase up to the second floor, and I headed up the stairs. I had to search for a way to get into the bell tower, but deep in the tresses of the ceiling was a small trapdoor. I pushed open the hatch with the barrel of my longshot, then pulled down the folded ladder that was conveniently lying in wait. Once in the bell tower I had a square box open on all side, with a four-poster roof to help conceal my muzzle flash. I kicked the trapdoor shut – I didn't trust myself to fall through it once the fighting started – and settled into a prone position with my barrel pointing down to the beach.

The town was small enough that if you got enough elevation you could see everything from the main road to the shore in one axis, and from one headland to the next in the other.

I searched the darkness through the scope of my rifle. Delta was spread out along the kilometer of beach. If anyone was going to come ashore they had to do it there, between the breaks in the cliffs. I could see the silhouette of the Ravens parked on either side of the cliff sides, ready to take flight at a moment's notice. When I looked to my right I could see Anya climbing into the 'Dill, the headlights sweeping the town and giving it an eerie ghostly pallor. The town itself looked abandoned; the civilians were heeding Marcus' order to remain indoors.

The only thing I couldn't see from my perch was whoever was out on the water. Again I felt a slight bit of hope that they were just fishermen, or maybe some locals out joyriding. Maybe I hadn't really seen the light – it could have been a reflection of the stars, or some kind of bioluminescent fish.

Two figures came sprinting out of the darkness, heading for the beach. I flinched back behind my scope and squared them in front of the crosshairs. They were moving far too fast to be human – two dogs, running together. Two wolfhounds – a large, scraggly breed that was good for protecting farmland. I tensed as they blew past Delta but the dogs didn't even pause. They continued further down the beach, just past where I could see around the cliff face.

Seconds after they vanished I could hear them start barking their heads off. It wasn't an excited bark, or even a mindless 'Here I am!' bark that some dogs did when lonely. There was anger in their voices – it was an alarm. Then two, three, four shots rang out of the darkness. The barking fell silent.

Here we go.

Both Ravens took flight in the same heartbeat. Gettner's bird lit up the searchlight and the ocean changed from an inky blank into an acid green. The waves probably hid them from the gears at sea-level, but I could see them: a group of three, no four, small raiding boats, coming in slowly. I did a slow sweep and saw another raiding party coming in further down the beach, close to where Mataki laid in wait. Gettner focused the spotlight upon one of the inflatables and I heard her activate the bullhorn. "Drop the fucking weapons, vermin, or I will open fire."

I saw the men on the boats lift their weapons and aim at the Raven. I clicked the safety off of my rifle just as one of them lifted a long, steel, pipe-like object. A small yellow ball of ignited gas blew out the back of it as it fired a grenade at the Raven. The explosion lit up the night as I pulled the trigger. The man with the RPG fell overboard as I struck him dead center in his chest.

No time to worry about the ethics of killing another human. I was racking the bolt and loading up another round before he even hit the water.

The night descended into a symphony of small arms fire and the racket of the choppers. Gettner's bird was still airborne, and she was firing short bursts into the shallows. I could recognize the lancer fire of the Gears, but there was other automatic fire of various other weapons. Those assholes were firing at my family. My father. I snarled as I let loose another round and struck a man attempting to climb over the hull of his boat and onto the beach.

Four men out of a dozen managed to break past the line of fire Delta was laying down. It was a couple hundred meters from the beach to the first buildings of the town. I fired at one of the running figures and struck the dirt just behind him. Before I could reload they had vanished into the narrow streets of Pelruan. I saw two members of Delta peel off the firing line and give chase.

"Fuck," I cursed, scanning the streets for any sign of them. The buildings were mostly wooden, and wouldn't provide any sort of cover to a firefight. It didn't help that there were civilians huddled inside nearly every building, who wouldn't know enough to stay down.

Glass shattered, and a yellow tongue of fire lit up the night as one of the buildings started going up in flames. I dropped the longshot and pulled my lancer around front as I leapt over the edge of the bell tower. Sniping and taking the bastards out from a distance wasn't an option anymore. Fire would spread quickly in a shanty town like this. Wooden buildings, narrow streets, civilians. No matter how I worked it, people would die.

The roof below the bell tower was slanted, so I only dropped a couple of feet before I felt the shingles under my boots. The next building's roof was only a few feet away, so I leapt for it instead of jumping to the ground. The line of roofs were angled, providing a slight bit of cover as I ran down the streets atop the houses. I had to leap between buildings, making sure I timed my stride right so I didn't lose momentum.

I heard another Molotov break against a building, and the following whump of fuel igniting. I crouched down against the angled edge of the roof and peered over the top. I aimed at a man lighting a scrap of fabric tucked into a liquor bottle. I squeezed off a burst of lancer fire just as he managed to let it fly. He dropped just as the bottle hit the ground, splashing two buildings with burning alcohol. The dry wood quickly caught flame, both buildings quickly becoming engulfed.

"FIRE!" I shouted, getting ready to drop off the roof. The front door of the burning building slammed open and a man exited. He swept the street with a snub-nose revolver, then caught sight of me crouching on the roof. He quickly raised and pointed his gun at me and let loose a round. I ducked, but I could hear the hot whistle as the bullet whizzed past my head, missing my skull by inches. "I'm with the COG, asshole!" I screamed at him. I very gingerly eased over the ridge of the roofline, ready to duck back into cover if he tried to shoot again.

But by now he was working on getting his family out of the house. Others had emerged from nearby buildings and had started splashing buckets of water onto the growing inferno. I had lost sight of Delta, but I listened hard and could hear turret fire from the east. Just as I began to head off in that direction the shooting died down. The fighting was over, but the battle wasn't done. Making a judgement call, I decided to stay and help fight the fires. A few people were filling buckets at a nearby tap. I slung my lancer and grabbed a bucket and started hauling water to the two burning buildings. The thick smoke choked and the shadows danced, looking for all the world like an army of stranded coming out of the darkness to kill us all. I found myself keeping my head on a swivel, flinching towards my sidearm at every shadow and reflection. Then I remembered the man who almost took my head off with his pistol. The Stranded weren't the only threat to me.

No one here was used to a grey area between Stranded and Civilian. Trying to live in that grey area was going to get me killed. The time was quickly approaching that I'd have to choose a side, and live with it for good – one way or the other.


"Well?" Dom asked, his voice unsure. "Do you like it?"

It had been a few days since the Stranded attacked Pelruan. The town still bore the scars of battle, but Delta had become dedicated to helping with the repairs. Baird had commandeered some welding equipment to fix Gettner's crew bay steps on the Raven, then set into repairing the burst and damaged pipes in the fire-bombed houses. Cole and Dom used the chainsaws on their lancers to cut trees into wooden planks to replace charred walls. Mataki had taught me how to make a natural sealant from oil and vinegar to apply to the walls to keep water and insects out.

Yet despite our efforts the townsfolk were less than enthused about our presence. Many of them blamed us for antagonizing the Stranded and causing the attack. Hell, I was inclined to agree with them. But even if the Stranded marauders had been able to overpower Delta and force them off the island, more would fill their stead in only a few short days. Their cause was doomed from the start.

Once we had ensured that the civilians were housed again, Dom had called dibs on a barracks room in the naval base. It was a small, twelve foot square room with two twin beds on either side, two chests-of-drawers, and two small writing desks complete with chairs. Everything was made from a yellowed hard wood – even the floor. The only contrast was the dusty mattress and peeling paint on the walls. Directly across the door was a large picture frame window, propped open with a rock to air out the mustiness of the room. I entered the room and did a small, slow turn, taking it all in. "It's ours?" I asked, biting my lip.

"Families get first dibs. I can try to get another room with a separate bedroom for you, if you'd like. So you can have your privacy. Is it too small? I think the rooms upstairs might be a little bit bigger – I'll go check."

"It's huge…" I whispered, my voice filled with awe. All my life I'd lived in cramped closets, or bolt holes with barely enough room for Sam and I to crawl into. But an actual bed? Drawers where I could store things – and keep them safe behind a locked door? It all seemed like the height of luxury. I pointed at one of the beds. "And that…that one's mine?"

This time Dom just nodded, watching me closely. I gently set my pack on the floor before trailing my fingers on the sun-faded mattress. It was dusty from disuse, but soft and relatively clean. I slowly sank down onto it, half afraid it would vanish as soon as I set my weight on it. Sam, evidently untouched by my feelings of awe, immediately jumped up and joined me on the bed. She curled up against the wall and started cleaning her paws.

"I'll get a divider somewhere," Dom finally entered the room, letting the door shut behind him. "So you can have your privacy. Maybe some curtains – whatever you want. Bathrooms are down the hall. They're communal, but separated by gender, so you shouldn't have much competition. Mess hall is, well, over there." He pointed out the window towards the building we'd passed on the way in.

He sat on his bed, bouncing slightly and testing the springs. "I think these mattresses are older than you are," he said apologetically. "It'll probably be a while before we can replace them, but I'll work on it-"

"Dom," I finally interrupted him. "This is…amazing. I've never lived anywhere like this – my own bed, my own space. It's perfect."

He positively beamed. I understood now that he wanted to give me the entire world, but there was precious little left of it to give. I hoped eventually he'd realize I didn't need much: a safe place to sleep, a meal in my stomach, and ammo in my gun. Everything else was just gravy.

He hit the release on his chestplates and the straps went slack, allowing him to pull them off his shoulders and place them on the desk next to his bed. He rolled his shoulders, adjusting to the lack of weight on them, then reached in his pocket. He emerged with something small and silver, then tossed it to me. "Catch," he said.

I caught it, then opened my palm to examine it. It was a key, complete with an old silver dollar keychain. "For the door," Dom explained.

I ran my fingers gently over the teeth of the key. A house key…a home…a family. It all seemed so unreal. I kept staring down until the mist cleared from my eyes. "Thanks," I whispered once I was sure my voice wouldn't crack.

We sat in silence for a moment, neither of us quite sure what to say next. I chewed on my lip, debating whether or not to ask what I'd been wondering for days. "Hey…can I ask you a question?"

"Of course! Anything."

"Why did you decide to become a Gear?"

Momentary surprise flittered across his face. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly before he answered. "Well…Maria had just told me she was pregnant. And, well…it was good money."

"Oh," I responded mildly. That hadn't been the answer I was looking for. I think Dom saw the disappointment in my face.

"That wasn't all of it, however. Carlos had just enlisted, as had Marcus. I think part of me didn't want to be left behind – it had always been the three of us, you know? And my dad – your granddad – he had been a gear. There's a lot of pride in serving."

I nodded slowly, not quite meeting his eye. He was waiting for me to ask a follow up, but none was forthcoming. Eventually he sighed and leaned back until his shoulders rested against the wall. "Does she have to be on the furniture?" he motioned towards Sam with a disapproving frown.

"Hey, what's mine is hers." I gave Sam an affectionate toss of her ears. "I'll make sure she doesn't claim your bed, though."

"Appreciate it."

We fell back into contented silence. My eyes kept roving over the room, taking in the little details I'd missed earlier. The mattresses were dusty, but everything else was sparkling. Dom must have cleaned up before he showed the room to me. The room smelled slightly of lemon and vinegar – a homemade cleaning agent. My eyes paused on the windowsill, and I reached suddenly for my pack. I fished in one of the smaller side pockets before coming back with the small, paper crane that he had given me a day earlier. I gently un-squished it until it resembled its original form. I got up and set it upon the windowsill in the sunlight.

"There," I said, giving him a small smile. "Now its home."


Author's Note: And with this chapter, this story hits 200,000 words! Thank you so so much for sticking with me this long! So much has changed in my life over the years, but I love that I can still pop into Bri's world no matter where I am.

Thank you for reading, and please leave a review on your way out! C'mon, I wrote 200,000 words for you. Toss me a couple back?