Jacob leaned back in his chair, examining the screens before him.

It had been almost a month since he had seen the Deputy – and he'd been keeping close watch. He chose to track at a distance, understanding the cost if she knew he was onto her. He knew how to track, how to hunt, to kill. But he didn't want any of that from her yet.

Since their odd meeting across the river that night, he'd returned to his base and barked out orders. It was easy to send his men scrambling, they only obeyed him after all. Within a few days – anything that could be dug up from old public records was brought to the table. It was fucking difficult to find information on someone whose name they didn't know however. It seemed the junior Deputy had evaded them, either deliberately or by luck. Not that it mattered right now. They'd find out in the end.

Jacob stood up from his office chair, choosing to pace around the room. He twirled his army knife around in his hands – only something he did when he was frustrated. And oh boy, was he frustrated. His men had still failed to find the Wolf's Den – the Whitetails' activity was getting stronger by the day. He had slammed his hand down on his desk every time his officers returned with nothing. The rebel militia were ghosts, it seemed. They appeared when least expected, stealing from the Project and then vanishing into thin air.

However, it yet again wouldn't be a problem for him. He knew all the most populated places in the mountains – they had to be somewhere secluded. That narrowed down the options nicely. He had his men scavenging the woods for the so called "Wolf's Den", as the ragtag group of rebels supposedly called it. He chuckled to himself. The Whitetails had nothing in common with wolves. They were not strong, organised or clever enough to hide from him forever. They were more like a pack of deer, trying to stick together while the real wolves were closing in around them. He was only seeking them out as they served as the last line of defence the residents of his region had, but they were more like a myth than anything. Something for the civilians who remained here a chance to hope.

Jacob felt a small wave of smug confidence pass over him. The residents of Hope County wouldn't have much hope for long. The amount of small daily victories for him was at least double the amount of losses he suffered at the hands of the Eli's militia.

Eli Palmer.

Jacob's grip grew on his knife tightened at the thought of the man. He didn't see killing the Whitetail leader as a personal success, more of an all-around beneficial goal. He had everything to gain by removing the rebel leader out of his plans – and he could use him as an example for what happened when you messed with the Seed family. Jacob let himself relax, stopping his pacing to look at the monitors at his computer terminal. He grunted, letting out a scoff at the thought of Eli being any match for him. He had heard rumours that Palmer also set up cameras around the mountains, to survey Jacob's movements.

Psh

As if one little architect was any match for a decorated soldier like himself. Eli was more of an annoyance than anything, although he was an annoyance that was continually getting under Jacob's scarred skin. Jacob already had control of these mountains; his soldiers trained and culled here, gaining a home-field advantage. Eli was a man running out of time, there were only a finite number of places he could be hiding, and every day Jacob's army grew stronger. The culling of the weak, the recruitment, the training – while it was being delayed by the Whitetails incessant interference – was slowly coming together. Soon, Jacob would have the army he promised Joseph. His men would be strong enough to protect his family, and his brother's flock during and after the 'Collapse' that Joseph spoke of.

Jacob frowned. He didn't believe in God, but he believed in his brother. And he knew when Joseph was lying. Joseph had never sounded more honest in his life than when he first told Jacob he'd been chosen by God. "It don't matter if there is a God", he thought darkly. He knew the cost if he failed Joseph. He never denied his brother anything, and this was his chance to prove himself. That there was more to Jacob Seed than just his scars. He wasn't some broken husk of a person, that the US military had churned up and spat back out. He wasn't the same man he was back in Rome, when his brothers had found him on the streets. Homeless, pathetic, weak.

This was his purpose. To give Joseph an army, to protect his family. He couldn't fail. He refused to.

"Failure is not an option", his own words went through his head. Jacob's speeches played on a loop at the Veteran's centre and all large properties they owned; his men heard the phrase every day when they woke up. If Joseph believed his purpose was to save souls, then Jacob would do everything in his power to help him. And anyone who tried to stand in his way – he would put the fear of God into them. That was why he had to get rid of the Whitetails. They were the last thing standing in his way from completing his mission. As long as they continued to resist, the more people came onto their side. Jacob smirked maliciously. They were bringing about their own destruction. The more people the Whitetails tried to turn onto their side, the more innocents Jacob had to kill. It was in his nature after all, he had killed enough targets in Iraq to have lost count many years ago. He was only turning what he learnt from the military onto the good people of Hope County. It was about time they stopped their meaningless lives, fretting about shit that didn't matter in the end, and instead put their lives on the line to help everyone after the Collapse.

That was true bravery in his opinion. Not cowering in a bunker while you made teenagers and housewives fight your battles.

Jacob's steely eyes glanced about the room. The Veteran's Centre had been the perfect choice in the end to set up his Headquarters. He let out an involuntarily shudder, looking out through his office door and into the hallway. He hated white walls. He could still remember when he'd been in a hospital just like this. When they needed three orderlies and a shit ton of tranquilizer to restrain him, and even then, sometimes the dose wasn't enough to keep him under for more than a few hours. He'd thrash and scream like a captured animal, limbs flailing and heart-pounding, nearly hospitalising one of the staff...

Jacob shook his head. This wasn't the time nor place to remember that.

The location was perfect, at least. It was away from the main road, the farthest from civilisation in the mountains. Secure, secret, and distant enough so that no one could hear the screams that echoed from within its walls every night. The courtyard out front was where they kept the prisoners – and Judges – in cages. Only the strongest Judges were kept here – they were made at the Elk Jaw Lodge in the far south of the mountains and shipped across to the other side of county. Jacob liked his best Judges here as it allowed him to see the strongest at work defending his headquarters. The Veteran's centre was more than heavily armed. Barbed-wire fences, a huge wrought-iron gate, and mounted anti-aircraft guns on top of a high stone wall that circled the facility.

Jacob walked onto his balcony. The words "TRAIN – HUNT – KILL – SACRIFICE" were painted in white against the dark walls. Jacob had the walls of his office painted dark green, reminding him of something more familiar – his army camo – due to his hatred from the majorly white walls of the building. He leaned out, looking at the view before him. The dried-up white fountain had Chosen running laps around and training in their spare time. When they weren't out on hunting parties, gathering intel for him, tracking down the Whitetails or guarding the base, he expected them to be training. He spotted Joab, his second-in-command and top soldier, skulking across the courtyard. Joab had the same disgusted look on as he usually did, under his mop of greasy black hair. He barked out sharp orders to the Chosen at his feet, who were doing push-ups. Of course, Joab attended to all the torture and training of Jacob's Chosen. It was a test of his competency, if he could run the operation just as well as Jacob could. Truth be told, these days Jacob felt that Joab was running his faction of Eden's Gate more than he was. Joab was the one behind the idea of using the music box to indoctrinate their soldiers. It wasn't a bad idea. Jacob agreed to include it once the first few trials took place, and he knew the stubbornness of the people he'd have to train. Joab was a decent lieutenant. He had come up with some good strategies that Jacob had used over the years, although he seemed to enjoy watching the trials a bit too much.

Jacob felt himself swallow the bitter taste in his mouth. Nowadays (and even at the start of their occupation of the Whitetails), Jacob rarely had any interest in the torture that Joab carried out. It wasn't that he couldn't stomach it – he'd seen enough in his lifetime – but it was often… excessive. Joab always had excuses to make it "necessary", however. Jacob didn't care much, but he couldn't deny he hated seeing the civilian casualties that Joab's body-count list tallied. If people would just listen to Joseph, get it into their puny brains that Eden's Gate wasn't the right option, it was the only option, then all this violence would cease. He didn't enjoy killing people, he did it because it was necessary. It was his purpose. It was what he was good at, but it was a badge he wore with grim resolute. Despite his lack of trust in Joseph's idea that "God" was talking to him, Jacob knew that they were definitely bringing about change in the people of Hope County. His trials were making people smarter, stronger, the skills they'd need if the end of the world came about. Joab's torture on the other hand…

Jacob ground his teeth. Sometimes, just rarely, he sensed something else in his second-in-command. The generic ambition of every solder to ascend the ranks was overflowing in Joab – who sometimes glanced at Jacob when he assumed the General was distracted. Eyes full of envy, and desire.

It didn't matter. Joab had proved himself to be smart; therefore, he was smart enough not to challenge Jacob's authority. Jacob's blood relation to The Father was more than enough a reason for why he was in charge, despite their different motives. The only reason Jacob built this army, and had the position of "Head of security" for the Project, was for one thing. His family. Every time he thought of Joseph and John, safe and protected in their bunkers, he remembered how everything he did was worth it. Faith was an exception. He cared little for the bliss, or the "flower-princess" persona she paraded around in, but he felt neutral around her. She did her job correctly, so he had no more to say. She completed her purpose, as little as it was, and that was enough for her to gain his satisfaction.

Something on the screens crackled, disturbing him from his dark thoughts. The Deputy.

She was new, something he hadn't seen before. He felt like a child on Christmas day, wondering how to play with his new toy. She was strange, exotic. She intrigued him, and when his attention was given, he was wholly invested. There was no turning back for the young woman now. She had gained his eye and he planned to watch her carefully. He wasn't threatened by her – the very thought made him want to chuckle – but there was something about how she operated, made him think of himself. From the little he had heard, and from what even less he had seen, she also preferred to fight with a snipe-rifle. A .50 cal bolt-action rifle to be precise, almost identical to the one he carried with him. He looked across the room to where it lay. Blood-red, compared to the dull forest-green walls. He rarely used his rifle, but he kept it close. It was the one good thing he brought back from that godforsaken period of his life, and there was only one he wanted to use it on.

Eli.

"Time's running out for you both", Jacob turned to his pin-board. He had a picture of Eli Palmer – back when the man still worked for him to build bunkers for his family, and looked less like a bear needing a haircut. The only picture his men could scavenge of the Deputy was from the Sheriff's office in Fall's End, the one that his little brother had burnt down. The Sheriff's office was nothing more of a smouldering ruin by the time Jacob's Chosen had arrived to sift through the ashes. It had been the first thing to go when John had taken control of Fall's End. Jacob let out a tired sigh. He loved his baby brother, but John often took things too far. It was no wonder that he had come scrabbling to Jacob, begging him to deploy his Chosen around Holland Valley. John listened to neither reason nor logic sometimes – and Jacob had given in to his younger sibling's pleas again and again. Deep down, he still cared about John, despite his brother being determined to push every single one of Jacob's buttons.

"One day, I won't be here to protect you anymore", Jacob's husky voice had told the youngest Seed, when he'd called for a status update on the Chosen that were being sent to the Valley.

"That's why you're building an army isn't it?", John's snappy tone had come through his end of the radio. Jacob shook his head at him, despite knowing his brother couldn't see him. He let Joseph be the one to deal with John nowadays.

The picture of the Deputy was miraculously salvaged by one of Jacob's soldiers who had found it safe in a metal locker, amongst a few of the Deputy's other personal possessions. They weren't much to remark on, aside from a pair of running shoes and a hairbrush. He could easily work out that she hadn't spent enough time at the Sheriff's office to leave anything of significance in her work locker. The picture wasn't anything special either – just a semi-formal photo of the Sheriff's department. Whitehorse and his four deputies posing as officers of the law. Jacob smirked at seeing Peaches looking so arrogant - It was amazing what a few hours in the chair could do to someone. The grinning Pratt in the picture had his arm around Hudson – Jacob vaguely remembered her name – and the Junior Deputy. He also recognised one of Joseph's followers – the older woman Nancy who had conveniently cut off all radio contact outside of the county. The Rookie Deputy wasn't smiling widely for the picture. She looked calm and composed, clearly taking her job seriously. His lips quirked upwards at that.

When he first received the picture, he tried to work out a place for her on his pin-board. He wasn't sure what to do about the young woman yet. While she was stirring up trouble everywhere else, she had made the wise decision to stay out of his backyard. He wondered whether it was out of strategy or fear – but he knew she'd show her face eventually. All he had to do was wait.

Jacob leaned back in his office chair. He was a patient man. He could bide his time. He was the Big Bad Wolf, and she was Little Red Riding Hood. He just had to wait for her to leave the path to Granny's house, and find herself lost in the woods.

XXX

Dep jolted awake. Her heart was pounding in her ears, her lungs at the back of her throat. She let out a long exhale, wiping at her furrowed brow nervously. She flinched. Her hands were soaking wet. She jumped up out of bed, hissing when her bare feet touched the cold metal floor of the bunker. She turned her hands over and over. The wetness that had soaked the front of her shirt wasn't blood. It was sweat.

"Fuck", Dep sat down on the bunk. It was better than someone else's blood, although now she stank worse than the Peggies. Sharky often joked they didn't have showers in the Peggie barracks and camps – which was why the cultists always smelt of sweat and Frankincense. Dep thought it was a little over the top – for the followers of Joseph to spray themselves with the perfume that was given to Jesus (or at least how the Nativity story went), but it didn't entirely mask their terrible body odour. Shame. She was certain that weird spray cost loads anyway. Not like it mattered. The Seeds were filthy fucking rich.

Swearing and sweating, Dep hauled ass to the bathroom across the bunker. She noticed the top bunk was still vacant – Jess hadn't returned yet. Rook shrugged her shoulders. She appreciated everything her Lionesses did for her, and understood when they took a day off. They still had their radios, and knew how to find each other. Jess had mentioned she was going to the Henbane to "check" something, a few days ago. They'd only received one check-in with her to say she'd arrived there safely before she went quiet. It wasn't unlike Jess to go radio silent, Dep wasn't worried. Yet.

One shower later, Dep came out of the bathroom to the sound of the bunker's hatch opening. She instinctively reached for her pistol – but paused when Boomer ran out from under her feet, barking and tail wagging. She didn't bother to check who it was, instead going to the tiny kitchen to brew a pot of coffee. If Boomer recognised them, they clearly weren't with the cult.

"Morning", she called over her shoulder as Grace entered. "Jesus, you look like shit". Grace let out a laugh – a rare but pleasant sound. Her hair was down, pulled loose from her usual side-ponytail and she had mud up to her thighs. Rook even spied a few twigs in her hair, and walked towards the sniper. With permission, she carefully pulled loose the debris as Grace set down her weapons and took off her gear.

"Take a look in the mirror, sis", she said, snatching one of the steaming mugs Dep offered out to her. "At least I got a reason to, I been sitting in a tree all night watching John's goons comb the woods for you". Rook felt a pang of guilt go through her. It had been three and a half weeks since the night she saw Jacob, but since then reports from all over the Henbane River and Holland Valley had come in about the Chosen prowling about. She knew there was a connection – not sure what it was yet – except that it really wasn't good. First Jacob appearing in the south, now the Chosen being sighted shortly after. They'd been tailing Rook everywhere she went.

"Maybe he's tryna extend his borders?", Jess suggested a few nights ago as they looked over the maps. Rook wasn't sure then, and she wasn't any surer now. What was clear, the youngest Seed brother was getting more desperate to put his hands around her neck.

"God, you alright-", Rook began. Grace waved away her concern before she had time to finish her sentence. The sniper took a long swig of her drink, pulling a face.

"Tastes like how we look"

"Shit", both spoke at the same time. Grace dropped her rifle onto the chair, sinking down on the sofa they had. Boomer trotted over with one of Grace's brown army boots in his mouth, dropping it to the floor happily.

"Hey boy, how you doing?", Grace ruffled his ears as he jumped up next to her. Grace fussed over Boomer the most, it was sweet to see the stoic sniper petting Hope County's best boy. Moments like these gave Dep hope, that one day they could go back to a life where the biggest problem was parking tickets and buying out-of-date groceries. The simplicity of a mundane life – what once seemed boring was what she craved. A day where she could walk freely outside a bunker without having to worry about being shot at by a million cult fucks.

"Sorry 'bout the coffee", Rook peered into the depths of her own murky mug. "There's still no sugar or milk but it's the closest you'll get to a Starbucks"

"I take it black anyway, it's just bad quality. Not your fault", Grace hummed. Dep understood that Grace just wanted to relax after her long recon missions. She didn't blame her, and let her be in silence. She dressed quickly, grabbing a pile of fresh clothes from the bedroom-area of the bunker and looked in the mirror. She had made true on the deal that she'd try to get better at looking after herself. They were spending more time getting food from the Spread Eagle and actual Resistance-owned establishments instead of the rations Grace had stored. She had also taken the time to brush her hair actually. She had liked Hudson's braid, but hers wasn't long enough yet to make it suit her. She'd chosen to keep it in a bun, out of the way but nice to look at. It was a pleasant distraction she could focus on, other than checking their ammo count and cleaning her rifles.

"How does it look out there?", she called over her shoulder to Grace, checking the ammunition rounds for her pistol.

"Well… it's raining", Grace's voice came from the living-room area.

"Damn", Rook stuck her head through the doorway. "Didn't know that could happen around here". It was the first time it had rained in Montana since she'd arrived in the state, and at the Sheriff's office. Her stomach sank.

"Earl…".

"You say something?", Grace's silhouette stood in the doorway, arms crossed in a mix of confusion and curiosity. Dep bit her lip, she said that out loud.

"No. Yes. I just… ugh!", Dep flopped back on their sofa, wanting to bury her face in a cushion. The sofa dipped next to her, Grace's presence settling down softly to not startle her. A finger tilted her chin upwards, no longer squashed into the sofa.

"What's up?", her warm brown eyes stared directly into Dep's. The woman turned her face away, she couldn't lie to that look.

"I can't….", she trailed off without even finishing her sentence. "I can't help but feel like… this is our fault". She got up and pointed over Grace's shoulder to the bunk beds, where her official green Deputy uniform was neatly folded. She started around the room, Peaches following with a purr, thinking it was a game they were playing.

"Girl…", Grace stared at her pointedly. "You tryna tell me you blame yourself for 'dis?". Rook's anxious pacing increased.

"If we'd never come here, in the first place", she muttered, just loud enough for the sharp-shooter to hear. "If we'd just left alone, you all could've been spared from this shitstorm"

"Nah", Grace shook her head dismissively. She got up from the sofa, making Rook falter. Boomer lifted his head and whined at Grace's absence, who put her arm around the Junior Deputy. "They would've still seen the signs of the apocalypse. Joseph Seed is the real disease. He'd use whatever he could as a 'tell-tale sign' that judgement day was comin', and his followers would've believed him anyways". Dep didn't know how to argue.

"You have a point", she slumped her shoulders over in defeat. This was her battle, but Grace was right. Joseph would've started his goddamn holy war with or without the interference of the police department. She didn't have to fight this battle alone.

"Course I do", she felt a warm hand brush the small of her back lightly. Grace had a weird way of showing affection. She wasn't very talkative, but when they did have a moment to bond over something, it made them just a little bit closer. Grace and Jess on the other hand was like a volcano and a hurricane. Both got along well, but they had their moments. Sometimes Rook would leave them alone for a few minutes and come back to find them arguing. Usually Jess started the fights, beginning a verbal brawl on the best way to kill Peggie and who was better at it, while Grace argued with her just for the humour from it. Jess was just explosive in her way of expressing herself, sometimes being quiet and then coming out with elaborate curses that would make Virgil's already-greying hair turn snow-white.

"Thanks", Dep smiled at her partner warmly. Grace stretched as Boomer jumped into Dep's arms, eager to get attention from his owner. She fussed over him and his wet tongue slobbered at both women's faces.

"Now, what do you say we find some decent breakfast-"

"LADIES!". Both women turned to the sound of the hatch slamming shut and loud, frenzied footsteps coming down the ladder. Jess practically fell into the room, a huge demented grin on her face.

"You know… this place is supposed to be discreet for a reason…", Rook joked. Jess elbowed her out of the way, grabbing onto both Grace and Rook's shoulders and dragging them to the desk.

"Grab your shit, you pair of badass bitches!", Jess rummaged through the armoury-cupboard, tossing Dep her American-flag painted AR-C and throwing a crammed ammo bag at Grace.

"Jess, what's going on?". The Huntress turned to them, her grin turning to an evil glare.

"I ever tell you about a guy called The Cook?"

XXX

Author's Notes:

This is the part of the story where I begin to worry if the quality starts to tank. I really hope not :')

Also I based a lot of what the Deputy wears over what I chose and played as (I love the Amita outfit and usually wear that as the default), hence why her gun is the "Stars-and-Stripes" prestige AR-C skin. You can find all these outfits and weapons in-game, pretty much everything in this fanfic is based on what you can find in-game - such as how Eli has cameras all over the mountains - apart from a few exceptions (for example, Joab is a made-up character). I chose to make it as close to the game as possible because I wanted it to be new but similar to what people were aware of, aside from some headcanons that people would hopefully enjoy ^^

I looked pretty deep in the lore and canon about the game as well (thank you Wikia!) to find out all the stuff I could about the individual Seeds, and when I saw someone make a fanfic about Jacob being partially traumatised from being in war, I thought it was such a good and interesting concept that I hadn't done before I was quick to try and create my own interpretation on it. It'll become more elaborated on and relevant later tho :)

Finally, I'll give my apologies on stuff that I might not be spelling or using cultural descriptions correctly - I'm not from the USA (I'm British) so if I say "quad bike" instead of "ATV", you'll know that it's just how we say stuff over here lmao.

If anyone enjoyed it pls let me know :3 I appreciate feedback and people telling me what they liked and disliked about my content

Stay safe xx