I would love to work on this more but Jesus... if you have any friends who are studying in STEM, give' em a hug. They need it.

Resting against a stone pillar south of the White House, Grant stopped to catch his breathe. Looking down at his watch, he continued to track his team leader. She was heading due east, toward the capital building. Grant just hoped she wasn't going to do anything stupid.

Collecting his final thoughts, he set out again.

"Where do think she's going?"

John-Francis turned to Jennifer.

"Who?"

"You autistic orangutan. Fucking Sarah moron."

She felt a little bad over her outburst when Gooch's face turned into something resembling hurt, but in her defense, who the fuck else could she be talking about. Fucking Abraham Lincoln?

"She's just probably running somewhere to blowoff some steam. While I don't condone her behavior, she put more effort into the mission than arguably any other person. I think she just feels cheated."

"Huh, good point. I was scared that she wouldn't back down back in the room. What?"

Gooch' was looking at the unopened candy bar in her hand.

"Ya gonna eat that?"

"Sonofbitch." She muttered under her breathe. "Here, it's all yours."

"Thanks. I'll be hanging by Amaya in the basement if you need me. Need to adjust my sights, got knocked around during the battle."

"10-4."

With that, they went their separate ways.

"Fucking Division. Those goddamn traitors need to be shot. Hell, I think it should be carried out slower."

"Shut up McCowski, you were literally a failing Police Cadet before the outbreak. You ain't know shit. Get back to work."

Master Sergeant Graves was getting tired of this jackass that was assigned to his team yesterday. I mean I know during a pandemic beggars can't be choosers but fucking seriously? Graves was surprised the kid hadn't shot himself yet. It wasn't until last night the kid even heard about the Division. Graves had only encountered them once before and it was the scariest fucking thing he'd seen.

"Hey Sarge?"

"What is it Rivieras?"

"It's cold."

"…that's it? Seriously? Get back to work before I take that shiny rifle of yours and shove it up where the sun don't shine."

"Yes Sergeant!"

"Fuck me."

William Graves had seen many things. He was among the increasing-minority of the True Son's that had genuine experience and training, serving in Afghanistan. He was assigned to train new recruits of the Son's. A job he hated but knew how important it was. He was practical, he was intelligent, and he was a self-named patriot. When he followed Ridgeway, he did it because he didn't know Ridgeway had been court-marshaled. He just knew he was at some point appointed to contain the virus in the Capitol. It wasn't until too late that he found out the truth, but at that point he stayed for simple survival and brotherhood.

But he was getting tired of it. He always took the missions that would avoid civilians because he refused to follow the shoot-on-sight policy. These were Americans goddamnit.

"Sir, take a look." Corporal Tan pointed north, down 9th Street. At first, he didn't see it through the heavy rain, but he soon saw figures come into view.

"Positions! Be ready for anything!"

His team, officially known as Bison Squad, McKinley's Company, soon took positions.

Finally, the figures came into view. Civilians. Fan-fucking-tastic.

"Safety off." Remarked Corporal Tan.

Finishing his sentence, Graves soon heard clicks from the other True Son's.

"Stand down. Now!" He called out.

"Sir?"

"I will not have you fire on innocent civilians."

"Please sir, with due respect, they aren't innocent. How do we know that they just didn't kill someone else for water or food?"

Tan was the only other member of his team who had any remote experience, serving as an undercover cop pre-pandemic.

"So your solution it to fire without question? They aren't fucking rabid dogs Tan, they're Americans."

"With respect, General Ridgeway as ordered tha…"

"It is the duty of all respectable members of the US Armed Forces to disobey an unlawful order. Now stand down. Now."

"Can't do that sir."

"I'm sorry?"

"Sir, I am hereby placing you under arrest."

Tan didn't get the chance to raise his rifle before Graves had his head between in M9 sights.

"Tan, don't do this."

"Soldiers, arrest Sergeant Graves now."

McCowski started toward him. Feigning surrender, Graves acted, as if he would let him of all people do this. Kicking his feet out from under him, he punched him twice in the head before going for a gut shot at Specialist Favreau. It was too late when he felt the heavy hit of a rifle but against his head and was knocked unconscious.

He awoke later, having no idea how long it was, though he was still in the place his squad was. He felt like his legs were trembling. His heart was pounding. Turning his head, what he saw horrified him. Bodies of civilians lined up with bullet holes in them. Some of his squad was laughing and smoking over them. Fucking Animals. Turning, he saw his rifle up against the building's wall. The stupid fuckers hadn't even tied up his hands. For once, he was glad of the ineptitude of his True Son's

He heard the sound of Tan's voice.

"He up yet?"

He quickly assumed his original position and closed his eyes and slowed his breathing.

"Hasn't stirred yet sir. What do we do with these two?"

"Make' em dig their own graves."

"Sir." Before picking up some shovels.

Graves heard them walk away before he once again opened his eyes.

Sitting up, he went to the corner of the building and looked past. His entire team was laughing at the civilians attempting to dig their own graves.

He had a plan.

Grabbing his rifle, he once again returned to the corner. Unfortunately, Tan had other ideas.

"Hazel, go get another shovel and help' em."

Quickly going back into cover, he grabbed a sharp piece of class. As soon as Hazel turned the corner, Graves grabbed him and covering his moth, stabbed him multiple times in the throat. he silently laid down his body and grabbed an extra clip from his vest and his combat knife.

"Hazel! Come on man!"

Without hesitation, he turned the corner and took one more breathe before he condemned himself from the True Son's.

Pulling the trigger, he expertly put two rounds into three True Son's. Tan and McCowski turned around in shock.

"Stop right there! Now!"

Both put up their hands. The civilians were now just wide-eyed in shock.

"You two, get outta here and run. Go!"

They quickly climbed out of the graves and ran west, down the Mall.

"You'll be shot for this Matthew."

"We've lost ourselves. Come with me."

"You know I can do that." His hand was crawling towards his holstered pistol.

"Don't do it man. Do not grab that."

Tan pulled his M9 out fast, but Graves was quicker. Putting two rounds into him, ironically falling into one of the graves he was forcing them to dig.

All that was left was McCowski.

"Sir. You're a traitor!"

"To whom?"

McCowski sputtered in indignation.

"I'm sorry." McCowski didn't have time to ask what for before he too was shot dead.

"Fuck!"

Click

Turning around lightening quick, he aimed his rifle westward. He saw a Division agent pointing what looked like an X-45. Oh just perfect. It was known in the True Son's that just as they opened fire on civilians, the Division opened fire on the True Son's.

It was a fearsome sight. Angling their torso away from him, aiming one handed as well. Covered from head-to-toe in black and camouflage. He couldn't discern their gender as they had a breathing mask on and a beanie on. Their eyes were bright and imposing, commanding authority.

"Umm, parley?" Graves asked half-jokingly and half-terrified. The reference from a movie about pirates in the Caribbean sea.

The agent turned their eyes just slightly to view the dead bodies of his former comrades before focusing back on him. Like a predator and their prey.