Author's Note - Sooo I spoke too soon about the hiatus. Well, December happened kind of quickly, and annoyingly I kind of spent it being ill. Typical. So here is chapter twenty, more of a building chapter but the next few chapters are all deliciously brutal and heartbreaking.

Chapter Twenty – In The Name of Duty

Lem followed closely beside Archer and Cam, two very different individuals from diverse backgrounds united to protect their home. Not that there was much of it left to save.

A support beam from a nearby structure creaked as it collapsed in the heat of the fire, sending the hut to the ground in a mound of expensive kindling.

The two older men dodged the collapse easily, aware of their surroundings as they responded quickly to anything that came their way. Lem counted himself lucky that the two were so experienced at handling such situations, he doubted he would have fared so well himself. They didn't talk much compared to when Wilks ran the squad, but then Lem wondered whether it was necessary. Cam was short but quick on his feet, and Archer had brute strength on his side. Plus he knew the village from memory, so navigating around blockades and stalks were simple. The biggest issue was ammunition.

"We're going to blow our way through our ammo before we even get to my cache, too many things between us," Archer grunted as he assessed the bullets in his Boltok.

Lem heard a screech behind him as a Former caught sight of them. It gave him an aggressive look like it remembered every needle he had injected into it, all the pain he had inflicted, then charged towards him. Lem staggered backwards letting out a long yell of attempted disguised fear, lifting the Gorgon and pulling the trigger. Bullets hit the creature as it kept charging until it collapsed onto him in a mound of ash. He let out a disgusted snort as he brushed off Former ash from his clothes, glancing back at Cam and Archer who had just watched him from a safe distance.

"Thanks for the help," Lem commented sharply.

"Just checking to see whether yer capable of holding your own," Cam responded exchanging a glance with Archer.

"Just remember without me you won't get any cure to your precious Wilks,"

"And if you attempt to hold Wilks' life hostage again I don't care how he gets the treatment, I'll be firing the bullet through your friend's head to get it," Cam held Lem's expression a lot longer than Lem was able to sustain. He had to keep reminding himself, these people were not his friends, they were a means to an end.

"An assist would have been appreciated,"

A distinctive growl emerged from Archer's throat as he aimed and fired at something behind Lem. Lem twisted to take in the slumped Former on the floor

"I don't owe you anything," he responded stomping away, "after everything you did to our people, I'd happily leave you for dead. The people sympathetic to your cause aren't with you now."

As they edged their way further through the village, they came to discover that their rapidly diminishing ammunition had forced them to alter their tactics and adapt an avoidance approach. By the time they reached the infirmary, news of Archer's return had seeped through the population of the village. They embraced him into the safety of the building so they could rebuild up their confidence.

Cam assessed the injured, making sure to check on Tate. He acknowledged Sofie, standing protectively by the door with a gun in hand, and shook his head. She gave him a look as she turned her back on him and returned to door watching.

"Arch!" a woman called from somewhere within the crowd, muscling herself through the villagers to make her way to Archer.

"Marta?" Archer was stunned at her appearance as if the sudden magnitude of the destruction around him had finally hit home, "where are your sisters?"

"They're safe, but those creatures attacked Marya, we were lucky to get here with minimal injuries," she flung her arms around him, "We thought you were dead. Don't ever do that to us again."

Marta's sister sidled up behind her with a small baby in her arms, causing Archer to release one sister and take in the other.

"There's something else," Marta announced worriedly, "Burn's gone, no one can find him. The fire started from his house. We just about managed to get their Granddaughter out, but the flames were too strong, I'm afraid we couldn't get Emma out in time."

Archer exhaled sharply at the thought of losing his family in one sentence. He'd seen the state his poor Niece had ended in and now his sister. His eyes flicked to the small child cradled in Melinie's arms, then at the people cowering around him. Cam had busied himself helping to bandage some of the worst injured. A groan sounded behind him, and he turned to see one of Burn's bodyguards, his slumped body was burnt severely with a tag stating 'do not treat' around his neck. He dropped to his knees beside him and took his hand.

"I'm sorry," the scorched human barely managed, "I failed him."

"It's okay. You fought bravely,"

"The girl, the COG, she asked us to help her, she wanted us to protect the village, but we were cowards. We chose to protect Burn instead, and we failed."

Archer was unsure of the best thing to say. His people had failed their village because they had refused put petty rivalries aside to help a Gear. They had made the wrong choice, and they were paying for it now.

"We should have listened to you," he leant forward and coughed, bringing up globs of blood into his hand.

"I'm back now, don't you worry," he told him, "we're going to fight for this village no matter what."

"What if it's too late?" the man sitting beside him asked.

"It's never too late," Archer rose to his feet, making an instant decision. In Burn's absence, his people needed reassurance that they could survive it.

He made his way towards Cam, who was elbow deep in dressings, second nature kicking in.

"I'm going back out, I need to find a way to beat those bastards, my men are still out there. Surely if they see me with a weapon in hand, they'll come join me,"

Cam thoughtfully nodded a moment as he secured the end of a dressing strip.

"I'll come with you, remember the plan, Wilks wants us to meet in the harbour,"

"Surely you're better needed here?" Archer asked.

"As a doctor, my priorities stand with my patients. As a Gear my loyalties will always lie with my family," he looked over at Sofie who was busy ushering in an injured woman, "plus I think they have it sorted here."

Archer cast his eyes over the villagers in search of Lem, "that rat bastard. He's gone and ditched us."

"Probably for the best," Cam grunted as he wiped his hands, "he knows what he has to do. We'd do him no favours."

Wilks let out a grunt as he attempted to stand, leaning heavily against the wall.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Miles asked reaching out his arm in case he needed to catch him.

"I can't frigging sit here and play the patient, Miles. Not when the place is burning down, and people are dying to protect it. What kind of Gear could I call myself if I sat back and dwelled on my mortality."

He clicked the magazine from the Lancer and slotted a handful of bullets into it, then slid it back into his weapon carefully. Miles could see that Wilks was rapidly losing the battle within him, his features had started to look drawn and tired, as if every move he made was a struggle. The lambency had advanced further than expected. The guy was determined, but even the strongest person had a breaking point.

"Ol," Miles said carefully, causing his Sergeant to turn to him, "I'll look after her, you know that."

Wilks held a hand up to assess the tremor, the reality of his condition hitting home. He nodded eventually.

"I appreciate it, Miles,"

"I'd rather be the cool uncle, but if it comes to it I'll make sure she doesn't do it alone,"

"Before you start writing out my headstone," Wilks indicated the door, "I'm leaving now, are you coming with me?"

"Like you needed to ask," He held his Snub up, "with this monstrosity I'll always have your back."

They opened the door out into the darkness, ready to greet the monsters with everything they could muster.

Aidie made a running leap over from one building to the next, carefully working her way towards her target. Her brain working overtime to come up with a strategy to get in and out of the schoolrooms unscathed. She threw herself into a roll as she unsteadily landed on the roof of the next building, bashing her elbow. Wincing as she clutched at her already injured arm, she sucked back a yelp of pain. As she waited for the throbbing to subside she took a moment to assess her location. Her movement had to be as stealthy as possible to prevent the Formers from spotting her. So she carefully and silently picked her way through the village, using the rooftops as her guide.

The distinctive sound of raspy breathing below forced her to her hands and knees. She paused a moment as her rapid breath nervously echoed off the metal panelling at her feet. The Formers stalked dangerously close as they caught the enticing scent of a human. She lowered herself further, flattening herself completely to the roof with one hand held ready on her weapon. She waited, heart thundering loudly in her ears until the creatures eventually moved away from her position.

She let out a nervous sigh, hoisted herself to her feet and peered over the ledge to chance a glance at the darkness below her. The schoolrooms were within sight which meant the Formers were somewhere below, waiting. She trod carefully now, squinting at the movement further down the streets, a Nightmare swung his weapon at a captured civilian. Their head parted from their body at the impact. She lifted and fired her Longshot in the hope of catching the attacker, but the bullet ricochetted off the wall. He twisted in response and caught sight of her.

"You!" he bellowed. She recognised his distinctive voice as Chrysto, the one Nightmare with a particular vendetta against her.

He charged towards her, howling as he swung his huge weapon, thrusting it heavily into the wall of the structure. She felt herself topple, as he kept hammering into the building, reaching to scrabble for something to catch herself, just as her hand caught and slipped through a nail. She let out a shriek as it slashed down her arm, blood already seeping around the wound before she even hit the ground. The only thing that went through her mind, as she careened towards the arms of the awaiting Nightmare, was to protect the life of the one thing that mattered. She lifted her Longshot, aware that she didn't stand a chance in hitting him, but a distraction was all she needed. She fired at his feet, forcing him to lunge out of the way. As she reached the ground, she staggered quickly to her feet to avoid him swinging an enormous hammer-like instrument embedded with rusted nails. The Nightmare rushed towards her, knocking her hard to the ground and leaving her winded, heaving for breath.

"Bastard," she wheezed.

Aidie gathered to her knees, the world spinning rapidly around her as she worked her bearings. The sound of terrified screaming echoed through the tunnel of streets as the Formers savaged the village bit by bit. She wobbled to her feet, hand bracing against any surface she could find to steady her movement as she left bloodied hand prints after her. Every part of her petrified mind begged her to run, to flee from the monsters and the people wanting to kill her. But her instinct told her she had to stand up and fight, to protect the place she now called home. To protect her family.

Holstering the Longshot, she drew out her pistol, wishing that she still had her Gorgon. The Boltok rarely stood up against the Locust, but she was fighting a different threat now, one entirely susceptible to a bullet to the brain.

Blood dribbled down her arm splashing on the cobbles, forcing her to stop and assess the injury. She held her arm upright, as a temporary measure, as she dropped into the cover of a doorway. She fumbled around in her first aid pouch pulling out the ragged remnant of bandaging, but there was barely enough to wrap once around the entire wound. Her next option was to keep it elevated until she made it to the schoolrooms, there was always a first aid kit kept there, she just needed to slow the bleeding until then. That and stop the scent of blood from reaching the Formers.

"I'm coming for you bitch," Chrysto's eerie threats echoed through the streets.

As she eased herself from the darkness Chrysto's rusted hammer swung abruptly at her, she dove out of the way, and a shower of stone rained over her. She blindly fired in his direction, hearing his whiny laugh in response.

"You gotta do better than that to catch me,"

She heard his breathing this time, huffing and puffing and a distinctive wheeze as he hoisted the hammer to deliver another blow. This time she was ready for him, he had caught her off guard once, she sure as hell wasn't going to fall victim again. As the hammer swung toward her in a cloud of dust, she lay on her back, both hands gripping the pistol and fired upwards. A grunt, followed by the sound of the hammer clipping a nearby wall confirmed a hit. She struggled back to her feet forcing herself to keep silent to listen for his movements.

From the dust charged a Former, its burning core set firmly on her position, eyes lit in hunger. She fired at it until it puffed into ashy nothingness. The diversion had been enough to avert her attention as Chrysto charged behind her. He elbowed her to the ground, causing her to cry out in pain at the impact against her arm

"You killed my brother," he spat as he wrapped a huge hand around her neck, "you will pay for this."

For a moment she struggled one handed against him, the red mist dropping over his vision as he watched the whites of her eyes flash in fear. He was unaware of the Locust blade she slipped from the sheath on her waist with her bloodied hand. He didn't even notice as the blade jabbed at an angle into his guts. He felt the knife withdraw, as the serrated edges hacked away at his insides as she drew it out. He sucked in a gasp as he clutched at his stomach, watching the blood bubble over his fingers. He stared back at her just as she pulled the pistol to his head and fired.

"I would have thought you'd have learnt from your brother's mistakes," she commented emotionless, pulling herself from his slumped body and into the shadows as the Formers started swarming towards the fresh kill.

It was the diversion she needed to get into the school room before they chose her as their next target.

Lem wandered aimlessly through the streets, no idea where he was going or where he had come. He knew he had made the best decision, leaving Cam and Archer back at the infirmary, but wished he had asked for directions beforehand. As he twisted his way through the labyrinthine streets, he had no clue whether he'd already been down it.

His inexperience with a weapon proved to be a rather major failing on his behalf. He wondered why he had never considered it before, although he had always relied on the stronger built more aggressive members of the Nightmares, Lem had never thought that he would have to hold his own alone anymore. He had limited ammunition and no other weapon to help defend himself. Instead, he opted to use his instincts. He crouched behind a wall watching a group of Formers snarl at one another as they stalked the street. He had noticed that they seemed more volatile since their release, they were now quicker to provoke and faster when they responded. At least he could say that he was good at observing any changes. It didn't bare thinking that he was responsible for a lot of these abominations. But he'd never thought he would be encountering these creatures face to face again.

A sound of a scuffle nearby drew his attention. For fear of bringing any further noise, he crept quietly to investigate, dropping into cover. He caught sight of Chrysto swinging his beastly hammer at some unfortunate victim. Lem had mixed feelings about his fellow Nightmares. Their tactics had always bordered on the extreme, but he had remained a part of them purely for the sake of their Leader until Angelo had needed him more. To the point that now as he watched Chrysto's brutal nature emerge once again, he felt sickened that he had been a part of them. Not that his actions had been excusable. He watched a moment, realising that he recognised the victim, short stature, scruffy blonde curls. Aidan. He felt confused, hadn't Wilks said that she was dead? Unless she had escaped.

From a distance he watched as Aidan, struggled against Chrysto, he contemplated stepping in to help, but the Formers were drawing closer to the smell of blood, and he didn't have enough ammunition to make a dent. As she fired the kill shot and the Formers swarmed he followed her, unseen, to the school rooms.

He flung the door open in haste, slamming it closed after him, for fear of the Formers following him. Darkness surrounded him as he squinted around for his target, Aidan had to be somewhere. Blindly he felt his way around wooden desks and chairs, shuffled and flipped over to defend the people inside. The sound of hushed panicky voices echoed somewhere further in the structure. He followed the murmuring until he entered a back room where three small boys huddled in the corner.

The sound of the trigger clicking against the safety alerted him as he slowly turned to find Aidie standing behind the door with a gun held to his head.