Dying Light: The Descent

by Vickie1

Kyle Crane returns to Harran after his disappearance, tormented by the ghosts of his past and the fear of what may have happened to those he left behind. He must navigate a fractured Harran with Mad Jack. But he doesn't know that Jack is searching for the man with the answers she needs, unbeknownst to her that he's been with her all along. (Sequel to the Following, Harran Arc)

21. INTERMISSION I-II

Chapter Summary

- BACK TO THE GRINDSTONE

Mahir, the Junction leader, asked Jack for her help on something. But he's pretty cryptic on what he wants and for good reason. - Kyle

---

INTERMISSION I-II: CALM AFTER THE STORM

---

SIDE QUEST: GROUNDED

---

Mahir called in about something urgent he wants us to look in. And it doesn't sound good from the tone of his voice. - Jack

---

"You look displeased."

Jack had returned to the Junction's command room on a call from Mahir. A first time hearing him ask something from the specialist since - usually, it was Siv or Orhan on the comms. But it sounded serious and vague.

And it also looked very serious when she met up with Mahir.

"Something wrong?" she asked with her wide smile.

"Besides recovering from that blackout, a lot. But…" Mahir looked torn. The shift in the eyes told it all - uncertainty. Deciding if he should go with his gut or not.

"I can't do my job if I don't know what I'm in for, Mahir."

"No. You've done more than we could ever ask for."

"But?"

"...Your partner. He hasn't come around to the Junction, has he?"

"Can't say he wants to. Keeps to himself mostly."

"But he's ok with you?" he asked honestly.

She simply shrugged her shoulders. "Took some time warming up to me. But he's no slacker."

Mahir stood up, stern. A moment that said he hadn't opened up to the idea of someone who hasn't approached the Junction. All he hung on was Jack's word. "Can he keep a secret?"

"Of course. Not much of a talker either."

"Geez. I wonder why," Jack heard the exasperated groan over the comms.

Mahir didn't accept right away. It was a debate: a mysterious man that appeared out of nowhere, suddenly partnered with the newcomer of Scanderoon. That Jack stumbled upon outside the Junction. Of course, he had questions but never once had he, a leader, asked unless it was a risk. But as far as Mahir had heard, the stranger had been helping her - from getting cargos of Antizin to turning the dam back online. In turn, this man helped the Junction without asking anything in return.

And there were the rumors. All of them made no sense. First being the new girl, Esme, rescued yesterday, saying that the stranger was extremely fast. Then Carl from the Orphanage blabbering something about him being a freak of nature. And a Halloween costume? Mahir had made the mental note to send Carl to the medbay. Poor guy did spend the night hiding at the fallen Orphanage. But against his suggestion and better judgement, Carl declined.

Ever since Jack found this stranger, there have been a lot of good things happening for the Junction. And stranger things too.

But Mahir conceded with much thought. He could trust her. Not so much the partner.

Might as well go on his gut feeling. What else could he lose?

"You know that the Ministry cut off supplies for Harran, right?"

"I suppose that's the same case here in Scanderoon."

He nodded. "We have an outside source that smuggles for us. Phantoms. They go in. They get out."

"That's a risky job. On both ends of the delivery."

"The Ministry got too much on their plate to worry about a airplane entering quarantine. And Vulpes is the best pilot I know."

"Vulpes being?"

"A close friend of mine from our training days. Used to be from the Air Force. Now he's working with the Phantoms."

"Alright. I'm getting a picture. The Phantoms are here for the next shipment but they're stuck."

Another nod of confirmation. "The rains made it impossible for them to leave. So they're grounded at the Old Airport."

"A plane, right?" Freakazoid whispered in Jack's ear comms. "Watched it go down during the storm."

"The weather damaged their plane?"

"No. The zombies on the ground did," Mahir corrected her guess. "Vulpes radioed in, saying he's repairing his baby now."

"So another vehicle lover." Lenny would make good friends with this Vulpes pilot, Jack thought to herself.

"Dua's the best plane ever. She's pulled through a lot for her pilot and us."

"Dua," Jack exclaimed. "Siv said that name before."

"That's the name I told everyone. Not about the Phantoms and Vulpes."

"A need to know basis. I get you're protecting them from getting caught."

"I have to. Not just from outside but also the convicts. If we lose the Phantoms, we lose our only means of getting supplies from outside. And a safer way of getting Antizin."

Ahhh. "That's why you're keeping this under wraps."

"If GRE finds out someone on the outside is smuggling Antizin, they could detain them. Vulpes' group is already putting their necks out for us."

"Lips are sealed. So. Head over to the Old Airport and make sure the Phantoms are safe."

Right on the point that Mahir didn't need to give orders. "He has Dua hidden in a hangar for the time being. But I don't know how long the Phantoms can stay without help."

"Partner's on his way. We'll make sure they get back to the sky."

"This partner of yours," Mahir stopped her from leaving. "...Can he be trusted?"

"Of course. I can't talk to anyone anyway." The one-legged man couldn't hear that horrible-sounding answer over the comms.

Jack smiled. "We wouldn't have gotten this far without his help."

That gave some sort of assurance.

"Tell Vulpes this. 'I'm calling this favor for Afghanistan'. He'll know."

A story that Jack didn't pry. "Duly noted."

With that, Mahir went back to his work. The goal set, it was now about catching up to Freakazoid for Jack.

Which would be nice if she had some faster way of doing that when the Old Airport was on the other side of the city. Really, she couldn't complain. She had Caroline.

---

"Not good."

Jack had only turned the boat down one canal - some distance from the Old Airport - and already she got some bad news.

"Spotted a couple of jailbirds nearby," Freakazoid explained over the radio.

"If you were able to see the plane go down, they would have too." Jack climbed over the riverbank and sprinted across the overgrown green skirts of the airport's perimeter. Away from the snapping wanderers. All too open for her to parkour out until she reached and hopped onto the roof of a small flirtation lot. "Any sign of the Phantoms?"

She quickly joined the sight-seeing high up with binoculars. The Old Airport had been left alone long before the outbreak since its spaces could fit the larger and modern commerical aircraft. But it made the best ideal spot if Vuples' darling plane, Dua was light.

Not far from the entrance did she spot there the group of convicts Freakazoid talked about, going in. But no sign of the Phantoms - that was good to her, they weren't outside the safety of a hanger with zombies lurking around.

"I see the hangar. They're bunkered down. Alive," Freakazoid reported. Something promising. "But the storm messed up the UV lights from the looks of it."

"So. You go after the bad guys outside, I clear up the horde inside?"

"Sounds like a plan."

Alright, she thought to herself as she watched Freakazoid scamper off. Now how to get down there quickly?

Still too open until she'd reach inside the airport. With a sigh, she again bolted. Over the fence, dodging some Biters, a few vaults on the roof of some side low-leveled buildings. With a zipline at the top. Just a snap of a zipline and a straight woosh into the small Old Airport while she looked down at the prisoners.

"-I saw it go down here." The comms from the other end picked up voices.

"C'mon. This place's infested. Pilot's gotta be chewed by now."

"He might be onto something. Made a round last month and found a hangar with UVs."

"A safezone?"

"Yeah. They weren't there a month ago. Something's up-"

One of them spun around, eyes and gun up. "Hey! Look up!"

He spotted Jack halfway across the metal cable. Seriously? This high up?

It made a good distraction, though. The jailbird never saw the sneak attack of a shark down below.

"Shit - Gah!" Jack heard their yelling. Along with the amount of ass-whooping Freakazoid gave them. It was left to her imagination once she couldn't see the fight. Which was pretty straightforward. A couple of Judo moves, some invisibility play and several stabs of that bone blade.

Now the human problem was being taken care of, she turned her attention to the other problem inside the Old Airport.

Dropping down on the terminal building, she looked about the surroundings. The fields had an obvious clue; an enormous trail of blood stretched long across the strip. Bodies lied on either side of the red line, limbs sliced right off. Gashes too big for a normal weapon to make that kind of damage.

The blood-red line led her eyes to the one hangar, the most obvious destination with broken UV barricades. One, two, three, four Virals. Raking their claws on the hangar door. Several more luring to the banging noises.

The cause wasn't entirely the Virals. Each pound made the dents cave in further.

A Brawler had to join the party.

"Marvelous." But Jack didn't back down. She headed right into the mass. "Phwwwhht!"

"Garsnk!" The Brawler snapped towards the sound and leapt into a charge.

Jack was already onto a dash as well. Faster and faster she went - she had to beat the Brawler at the midpoint, where she skidded down with a kick ready to its feeble knees...

---

"AHHHHHH!"

THUD!

Three prisoners down. Crane literally threw the third like a disc, right into a dumpster across the street. The bastard had a damn machete, trying to jump on him.

The last three would have still come at him - had he been human before. Rais' men never knew the word quit and all ended up by Crane's blade or bullet. Prisoners, of course, knew when to quit. Despite being strung tight by their boss, Alexander, they scrambled away from the hooded beast - weapons dropped in a panic.

Crane didn't give chase. One, he didn't have that urge and two, they were beyond the shadows.

But he didn't give them a chance.

"UGH! AHHHHHHHHH!"

It was all like a horror movie for the thugs. Slithering tendrils wrapped around a pair of legs before the bastard was tossed right into one of his pals - battered on impact, unconscious to the wandering infected looking for free munchies.

Crane's tendrils retracted back, one pulling the hilt of a dagger into his hand. Dropped from one of the convicts. He readied back his hand and gave one good fling.

Stab. Right into the back. Down went the last orange-suited man.

With that cleanup down, Crane scrambled deeper into the Old Airport - to check on Jack. Awfully quiet on the comms from the chatterbox. He couldn't help but feel a little - just a taaab - worried. What he wasn't full-blown worried was because it sounded like she got herself into a fistfight on the other end.

Up he swished to the top of the terminal and spotted Jack's handiwork: a dead Brawler and several infected dead on the ground. Jack handled it find, although looking a little fatigued, like she had run a marathon. She walked over to one hanger for a few steps. Stopped for a short breath. Then lifted her hand.

Bam! Bam! Her fist hit the hangar door.

"Hello? The Junction sent me to help the Phantoms out."

Silence. Not even a stir from inside.

Alright. Let's try this again.

"Mahir's calling in a favor for Afghanistan."

Noises, clanking and shuffling, muffled beyond the large door in a split second. A soft holler ushered - trying to stop the owner from hurrying over to the side door. The owner, however, snapped back that he knew what he was doing.

The side door flung open - a Turkish man around the same age as Mahir and probably, from the same cadre, stepped forth. The differences between the two weren't just the facial features but also the look: one had been surviving three months in a pandemic with a prosthetic leg, while the other had been up in the air. Sleeves up with soot and oil over Vulpes' arms, leggings and left cheek. A wrench in one hand.

He put up a front first. Understandable. A woman in the middle of a quarantined Airport saying that code to him... Df course, he'd be cautious.

"Vulpes? Phantoms' pilot?"

"...I would have said, 'who wants to know'." He pondered. "Lupus wouldn't have told you that without a reason."

"Mahir's handle name, I take?" No budging. Arms folded to show Vulpes wasn't gonna answer. But she'd take that as a yes. "He wouldn't have said anything if he didn't trust me. Jack Brecken. Retrieval Specialist."

"Jack Brecken?" Now the mood changed. "The Wild Dog?"

"In the flesh."

"Holy..." It took a while for the man to take in the awe it that Vulpes forgot the situation. "Never would I dream of meeting a legend in the middle of all this."

"A good time for legends to happen."

Quickly, with some ushering from the Phantoms inside, Vulpes hurried Jack into the hangar and shut the door behind.

Inside was a quick assessment: four people including Vulpes, standing by a Cessna plane that was covered in scratches and blood. Evidence that the moment the plane touched the ground last night, the infected tried to attack it. Quick thinking then forced the pilot to roll them over with the wheels and butcher them with the propeller.

Two of the folks indoors were local. Maybe from the same cloth as Vulpes' - taking the cause to fly into a quarantine zone with smuggled goods. The third one was clearly American, lighter in attire. Smarter in taste. The only woman in the group.

"What are you thinking?" she exclaimed.

"Relax. She's with the Junction."

"I was fine if it's only your one friend. Nothing about adding more people!"

"And you are?" Jack asked before the start of the explosion could occur. Vulpes had a word or two ready to speak up.

There was the usual assessing - checking Jack out to see if friend or foe. 'Neither' from the way the dark-blond-haired woman. Then she straightened herself up, making herself look tougher. As if to keep Jack in check - any trouble and she'd be thrown out.

"Annie Scott. That's about all you need to know."

Oh, what a stiff. Were all Americans like that?

"I understand you want secrecy. What you're doing for the Junction is more than they can ask for," Jack praised.

"What we're doing can get us all arrested if anyone were to find out."

"Really? When the world looks like it's coming to an end?"

The uptight woman gave no comeback. But her frigid silence was good enough: telling Jack that current global circumstances weren't any of her concern.

"Nobody except me and my partner knows your cause. He's even taken care of the prisoners that were just outside."

"Partner?" That made Scott frown. Fast. "No." She turned to Vulpes. "We agreed no one else will know."

"I understand you don't like playing with others. But you're stranded here," Jack pointed calmly. A thought that never crossed Scott's mind. "You need all the help you can get if you want to survive this quarantine."

"She's right," Vulpes vouched. "Until I am done with the fixes, Dua can't fly."

"She's just a civilian-"

"Ah. Not from around here. The Outskirts, actually," Jack corrected the uptight American.

Wide eyes from everyone on the brunette. But Jack shrugged it off.

"That's even better. She's experienced," Vulpes uttered with a smile.

"No, it's not! How did you get out?" Scott demanded.

"I knew a way," Jack sang, enjoying the little shake out of her.

"You can't just leave a quarantine zone-"

"Does it matter? Everywhere has the damn virus!" Vulpes cut the American short. "Lupus sends the best for the job and she's offering help. She and her partner stay."

That put a stalemate. The Phantom associate had a lot more to speak but it was clear she wouldn't get anywhere with this.

"This is on you," she snapped before walking away, to the other side of the hangar.

Although things had subsided, Vulpes heaved out a tired sigh.

"Don't mind her. Everyone's been on edge since Dua can't fly."

"Anyone would, stuck in a quarantine zone," Jack assured.

"Can't complain. Without her, we wouldn't be able to pull this off. Heard she's a liaison officer under the UN."

"Liaison. Hm." Didn't seem off on paper, no point in communicating with the locals if they had to deliver Antizin discreetly.

So why did it irk Jack?

It was then she noticed Vulpes had an unusual glance on her. She could tell - it wasn't the eagerness of being in the same room as an old champion. It was out of disbelief like he couldn't believe something about Jack.

"So you really are from Harran? A survivor?"

"Yeees," Jack answered. Why was that hard to believe? "I didn't come here for the holidays."

"Then there are more of you?"

"Whoever is left alive, that is."

The pilot found himself in a spot, almost too anxious that he might have stepped on a mine. "Sorry. It's just… I've been wanting to talk to someone from Harran for the longest time."

"Have folks over there?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No. From the Capital." A struggle out of the man's body happened right before the ex-kickboxer. Almost like setting his piece ready for a jury. At first, he couldn't find the words and moved over to the open engine of his plane. "I don't suppose you've heard that the Ministry tried to bomb Harran some time ago, right?"

"Of course. Everyone knows that. It's a miracle Harran isn't a giant crater now."

"Yeah," Vulpes started. Where should he even begin… "I was one of the pilots for that drop."

"Oh..." Not too sure how she should feel about that piece of information. "At least you didn't go ahead with it."

Or else she would have been a dead Mad Jack, along with thousands of survivors left in Harran.

"You can thank one guy for that. He somehow got on our feed and exposed the Ministry for the fraud they were. I knew something was up even before they sent us over." The shoulders looked a little lighter on Vulpes, because he got to tell a Harran survivor about it. "If it wasn't for him, Harran would have been blown to smithereens… I'd have walked away as a murderer without knowing it."

"It didn't come to that," Jack reassured, lifting up more of that weight off his back. "Nobody in the Outskirts knows what happened. We just thought they changed their mind."

"Hmph. If only that was easy. Then Scanderoon got hit with the virus and you know what one colonel said? 'Should have listened to his order'."

"You got discharged."

"Hah. I quit the Air Force long before he gave it any thought. Best decision of my life. Got Dua and joined the Phantoms once I heard they needed a pilot. And I managed to get in touch with my old army buddy... You could say I'm making up for...trying to blow up Harran."

"You're doing a lot good to make up for it. You're saving lives."

"Really?" Vulpes deflated. "Wish we could do more."

Jack gave a light nod. "Don't we all? But small things can make a big difference. Just like the man who saved Harran."

That got a chuckle out of the pilot. Never really thought that. One call to stop a flock of fighter aircraft from firebombing a city.

"Yeah… You're right." It ushered out a soft laugh. Something Vulpes hadn't done in a while now.

Small things. One big difference.

Faraway on a perch, Crane had listened to the entire conversation while keeping watch. Imagine his surprise - a pilot who would have bombed Harran if it wasn't that one broadcast.

Kyle was that man who made the call. The Ministry had convinced the whole world there were no survivors with a jamming signal - a desperate attempt to wipe the virus off the face of the map. So Crane took a gamble, climbing up to the tallest antenna tower and putting an amplifier to overcome the jam. It worked. Amazingly.

He remembered watching the fighters fly off to the horizon. Nearly shaking in his boots from the close shave Harran had. But that daring act saved the city.

What was more, to see a meeting between a Harran resident and one of those pilots, talk about a twist of fate. On one hand, it put him on edge - that someone had remembered him and was talking to Jack about him. On the other, he was glad to find out the outcome of that one near-disastrous event in his life.

Eventually, Jack made a call to the Junction, to confirm for Mahir that the Phantoms were safe. Sending men from the Junction was out of the option when Mahir wanted it confidential. The Scott woman would have lots to talk - complain - about too. But now that the danger in the Old Airport was over, the Phantoms could set themselves up without worry. The two other comrades went to work on the barricades outside before more walkers would fill up the airstrip.

"Oh." Vulpes rose away from Dua's engine. "You said you're a retrieval specialist?"

"That is my occupation now. Have a request?"

"No. And...it's a stupid one."

"I've been asked to find stupider things before."

"...Fine... If you're ever back to Harran, maybe you might be able to find that man from the feed."

"Hm…" Jack, and even Crane didn't expect that. "Finding a person… Can't make promises. But I do want to shake this hero's hand."

Crane cleared his throat. For certain, that got picked up on the line. Didn't know how he should feel about that. Not a hero and definitely didn't want Jack to know.

This was going to bite him back.

Vulpes laughed. "That's why it's a stupid idea."

"Doesn't mean I can't try."

But of course, she would say that! God! Why was this woman just… Crane gave up on asking the question that already had the answer!

"If you do find him, tell him I'm buying him a drink."

"I'll pass the message," Jack said. "Does this hero have a name?"

"Wow. Been months. But I still remember it like it was yesterday."

Shit!

"He said his name was-"

"Hey, Jack. Saw more of the prisoners around the corner. Might be following up with that group."

Jack put one finger up - a gesture saying to give her a minute. Vulpes quietly obliged and went back to the repairs. "And I'm sure you can handle them fine without me, mate."

She opened her mouth, to ask for the name-

"Now."

She flared her nostrils. Rolled her eyes. Said her goodbyes to Vulpes and left the hangar.

Good, seemed like the pilot forgot on the spot. A moment of relief to Crane.

"You are such an impatient freak." Jack eventually joined him up on the terminal and looked out for the so-called threat. "Where is the fire?"

"Huh?" Crane feigned ignorance. "Oh. Lost sight of them. I was too distracted waiting for you."

Jack's eyes narrowed tightly on him. Found that very hard to believe. She eventually sighed - just let it go at whatever this lying game Freakazoid had.

"Smartass," she mumbled, purposefully soft, as she started her slow drop down the roofs while Crane glanced back at the hangar for a moment...

"He doesn't need to buy a drink."

"Who doesn't what now?"

Crane was slowly getting used to his thought-talk, never a dull moment in learning more of what this sort of communication could do. He never could gauge the proximity either - it wasn't sound, it was thought alone, invading any nearby skull.

Jack's question also didn't help him figure out whether she caught some of that thought-sentence or all of it.

"Nothing. Just talking to myself."

Another frown out of the brunette. Something had taken her back. "You. Talking to yourself. Now that's scary."

"Shaddup."

A crackle ushered out of the red-jacketed brunette as the two took off for the next job.

---

SIDE QUEST: GUARDIAN ANGEL

---

So someone named Ata tells Jack that he thought he saw a...four-legged creature downtown? He wants her to take care of it in case it could be dangerous for the Junction... Never seen an infected run on all four before so this will be new. - Kyle

---

The streets of Scanderoon were different from one after another, in some shape or form. Some were empty, others were packed. Some seemed safe, others too dangerous to tread through. The kind of life that stirred across the tar was the undead, sluggishly searching for something, anything. And the crows too.

The funny thing, however, was that a guy named Ata from the Junction swore he saw something roaming around Laleli Street.

On all fours.

The piece of information was a strange one for Jack. An animal? No zombie has ever been sighted on fours. And Freakazoid had been sprinting and vaulting like any two-legged being since their first encounter.

Still, it intrigued her. The only critters around were the rats and crows. So she took the request out of curiosity.

But to find something like that in the streets of Scanderoon? Freakazoid thought it was ridiculous. Regardless, since Jack had already accepted it, he might as well move his ass and work. He did the quick rundown once they've arrived at Lalei Street.

"Something caught your attention?"

He didn't reply right away. "...I think we're being watched."

Jack jerked her head back with a raised eyebrow. Well, that couldn't be good. She prompted herself to search for the source. If it was a human, that was bad. They couldn't drop their guard down. If it was an infected, that would be good. It meant Jack could test her blood on it.

Whatever it was, Freakazoid couldn't find it with his bizarre sight. It was concerning-

That was when Jack noticed something further down the road. It stared back at the odd couple with its carnal brown and blue eyes.

She relaxed. So that was what got Beastly in a tizzle?

"That's a rare sight."

Once Crane saw the object of her interest, he understood her composure. It was, after all, something he didn't think of seeing with zombies around.

The brown and white large canine kept its distance, observing the strange 'bipeds'. It didn't bolt from where it stood, neither did it show any sign of meekness. Was it wondering if they were a threat? Well, one of them was at first glance, anyway.

Seeing such a creature, alive and walking in the streets of the damned, was indeed a surprise. Crane recalled back in Harran, the one thing he had noticed was there was never any sight of any other four-legged animals out and about. No cats, dogs, nothing. He had just assumed they were scared off by the infected. The only times he had seen a pet; one poor boy's friend gutted open and a few best friends dead in the Countryside - oddly not ripped apart and feasted on by the zombies, a detail he had never thought more on.

"I thought all the strays got spooked off. Or eaten."

"Not the case here... Life finds a way."

"Really?"

She turned to Freakazoid, catching a disappointed expression from the eyes. "What?" Jack uttered with a raise of her shoulders.

Crane simply shook his head at the reference she had to pull. Full of surprises...

The big dog didn't run off at first. Jack found it to be a very peculiar mutt - maybe Akbash. Even stranger for its behaviour. Most strays would avoid human contact at all cost. This one should be fleeing when Jack was standing right next to a Day Hunter, after all. But the dog stood still.

So Jack cooed, "come here."

It was an attempt she knew would fail even if she tried. Just like every stray in this country, this one wasn't easily swayed by a kind, soft voice. There was a little wave from its bushy tail but the dog kept its cautious, stern eyes on Freakazoid - its drooping ears perked back at his presence.

"Yeah...I don't think he's gonna come," Crane said with a little disheartening in his thought-speech. "I like dogs."

"Really? I took you as a cat person."

His eyes narrowed, locked on the smiling brunette. Where did she get that idea? And why did it feel like it was meant as a joke at him?

"What's with that tag there?" he then asked, pointing to the conspicuous object dangling from one ear. "Belongs to someone?"

Jack was silent at first: she would remember that distraction. "Ear tag's from animal welfare... But that collar, though... Odd-looking thing."

He had to agree. Didn't look like the standard collar for a pet. In fact, it was a bit bulky with a green box attached to it. Did this pup have a tracking device on her?

Why, Jack thought quietly to herself.

"So he escaped from a shelter? "

"It's a bitch," Jack corrected him. "Stray dogs are a big problem in this country. Too few shelters can take care of them. So, the only way around it is for the government to capture them, give them the works and let them go. That's what the ear tag's for."

"Just like that?"

"Don't get too heartbroken over them. The dogs here are smart critters. They've lived off the land without needing people."

There was some merit behind Jack's words: the stray didn't look like it was starving. No ticks on its beautiful coat. It was a healthy, six-or-eight-year-old canine that it had learned to adapt over its lifetime. And now the new circumstances around them. As much as Crane's old self surfaced with a wanting to pet the dog, her stance warned him otherwise. Not like the ones he had seen in Chicago.

Then again, no dog would approach him when he was like this.

"That said," Jack started. "Never heard of a program where they put GPS trackers on strays."

"GPS?" That fell on Jack's deaf ears, however.

"Let's head back. Report to Ata that it's only a dog."

"We're not taking her?"

"She isn't budging. If she's wary of us, then she's wary of the infected too. She knows how to avoid them."

It was obvious, Crane couldn't deny that: the dog would not come to them. But the girl would not leave them either - something Jack didn't pick on as she had already walked off the street. Perhaps because the brunette thought the dog would get bored and move on. Regardless, Kyle kept a passing glance on the she-dog until he couldn't anymore once the duo left around the bend.

For a while, at least.

"She's following us."

Jack furrowed her eyebrows out of surprise. It had only been five blocks they'd walked. Sure enough, on top of a car, far off in the distance, was the stray.

She sighed. "So this lass isn't going to leave us, is she?"

That was a problem. A dog equalled barking, which equalled loud noises that attract Biters. Although there hadn't been one peep out of the mutt, it was only a matter of time before she'd get spooked.

"Maybe she's hungry?" Freakazoid suggested. "Thirsty?"

"Of course… Clever enough to get fed by humans," she mumbled, admittedly amused by the animal's intelligence. She scanned the streets. "Fine. Let's find a pet store."

---

"Alright, girl. Here you go."

It was awfully absurd for looters to be stealing pet food - but nobody could complain if there was a food shortage. Thankfully in a ransacked pet store few streets away, one lone tin can had tumbled underneath the cashier. A few infected wanderers were taken out and after one water bottle found later, Jack settled down to make the dinner table presentable for the she-dog. Even picked a lovely turquoise pet bowl.

Still, she didn't move. Kept a ten-foot distance in the back alley. The ears perked at the metal click of the tin can opening but there was no further reaction out of the mutt. No tongue out but Jack could see her heavily salivating at the sight of the revolting muck plopped into the metal dish.

Jack sat back, her unimpressed face resting on a hand, which her elbow was on a knee.

"I don't have all day, Lassie."

There was a little nudge. The multicolored eyes darted between her and Freakazoid stationed not too far, on watch for wandering Virals. A few steps forward, then another few steps forward.

The dog took a sniff. Even when a meal was presented to her, she took to it as discreetly as possible. Those eyes could never leave Jack for every few seconds before the dog dove down for another bite.

Poor dog, Crane thought to himself. She couldn't relax even for a bowl of dog food.

"You can pet her."

Freakazoid rose up like a falcon who had hit a window and couldn't comprehend what had just happened. Jack had already seen the little itch and hurt he had while keeping his distance from the pupper. A dog lover in his old life, indeed.

"You clearly want to."

He was aggravated. Torn on the spot. Then he pouted back with a fold of his arms.

The chuckle out of Jack seared him even more. She found it adorable - a strange word to pick for the strange man. Just how easy it was to put the right buttons on him and how much humanity she could usher out of him. It was a desire he strived to achieve but refused to take a daring plunge - all because he was afraid. So she might as well have some fun and get him out of that shell.

She'd soon find out what skeletons he had locked away in that closet of his.

With the distance shortened between Mad Jack and the canine, she spied something metallic on the collar. Carefully, she took a chance and reached for the name tag, first feeling a sharp pull from the dog. Her hand retracted back.

"So you know I'm a little different. Hm," she laughed, the stern multicolored eyes warning her not to do that again.

The canine was silent. Slowly, she went back to eating.

"'Melek'," Jack managed to read off the tag. "Someone's given you a lovely name."

Melek again freed herself from Jack's grasp, licking her chops. She was done. Satisfied to get a free meal.

"You're fed and watered." The ex-kickboxer climbed up on her aching knees, patting the dust off her pants. "Run off, Melek. Someone's clearly watching you - Hey! "

It was a swift snatch that she never thought would happen. Or that a dog could be a thief. Melek the stray managed to grab her sling bag, luckier enough that her teeth unclick the buckle. There wasn't enough time for Jack to reclaim it back as Melek skidded off with the price in her jaws. The lifting even surprised the Day Hunter.

"You vicious, little-!" She stopped herself. Why should she get upset over a dog?

"Want me to catch her?"

"And have you scare her off?" she scoffed. "No, thank you."

"Hey. I'm trying to help."

Jack didn't give chase at first. Melek gave an interesting performance to her that made her ponder. For every two steps Jack took, Melek hopped a leap back. But she didn't run away. She waited.

Like it was a game of tag.

Granted, Jack did just say the dogs were smart. This was an impressive level of intelligence - the brown and white canine somehow trying to communicate with her for an unspoken reason.

It finally clicked to her what she wanted.

"This is getting ridiculous. I'm catching her," Freakazoid proposed, jumping off from his perch. He had the tendrils sooo Crane could simply rope her, have it like a leash-

"Wait."

Kyle wheeled back, puzzled. At first, he didn't understand why Jack wasn't rushing to retrieve back her knapsack but the several times the dog stopped and waited for her - it made him realize something was up too. It was all on purpose. Not on instinct or fear.

"Alright, Lassie. Lead the way."

As if Melek had some higher comprehensive thinking, more than an infected, she did just that. The next five minutes were about an ex-kickboxer and a sentient zombie following a dog down the streets of Scanderoon.

"Are you sure she's a stray?" Crane had to ask.

It had been a little nerve-wracking following what other infected found as a delectable living meal on four. The times he found himself running up at the sight of a infected targeting the mutt - only to see Melek either bounce faster than that clumsy Biter or taking to the high ground a dog could jump up to. Always on a fixed path, to wherever they were being led.

If he didn't know any better, someone really trained her well for agility competitions.

"I also said they were smart," Jack pointed. "...Where are you taking us?" Her answer would have come at the turn into one road, with the sound of barking and inhuman snarling not too far away.

Freakazoid hollered out the answer, "People. Four. Five of them."

Jack's feet quickened as she watched the Day Hunter take off to the roofs.

"Shit! They're surrounded."

She picked up the pace, bringing out her choice of weapon, a blunt one.

The district they hurried into was more open and less with the coastal, tall buildings. Of all the deserted structures, an animal shelter was clearly fenced up and protected by boards, UV lights and spikes. Other strays, big and small, in many different arrays of color, held their ground behind the perimeter while they growled at the threats outside.

Biters and Virals. They couldn't pass the UV lights shielding the main gate. But irrationally as always, they sought to find a way inside. Somehow. Somewhere.

"Get back!" a man hollered inside the safe shelter with a swing of his bat.

That was when Melek dropped the sling bag and darted inside. The escort was over.

"Leading the cavalry to your friends," Jack began as she took back her stolen item during her run. "Clever girl."

"They got an infant inside." Crane only noticed the tiny skeleton, clutching tight to one of the big ones.

"You take the front. I'll handle it inside."

No complaints there. Freakazoid leapt onto the doorknockers without a second delay while the brunette sprinted around the bend. Three Biters slamming their arms on the wire fence.

Would be nice if the strays in the shelter stopped making such a racket! One Viral came in swooshing after Jack but was batted down by her weapon. Another Viral howled from out of some nook or cranny. Again, they were put out of their misery.

The barks became louder. Before Jack's very eyes, the other dogs inside somehow scrambled out of the fenced perimeter and attacked. Not her. The infected. Like Dogs of Harran would do against a threat, they would hold their ground and bite at the legs. Amazingly, it was actually working.

"Grrr!"

It was a growl that didn't come from the zombie behind Jack. At the corner of her eye, she saw Melek fly.

"Whoa!" It surprised her. It took her by surprise even further to see a dog bounce off a wall and a dive onto the neck of the walker. Her momentum and weight b[[rought the infected down to the ground, an opportunity for Jack to take it out.

Thud! Cracked open its skull like an egg.

"Melek!" the man shouted from inside. Almost a mistake in getting distracted.

The dog didn't stop there, determined to heed to her name. Before Jack's eyes, it took two springs up and over the fence. The tricks the canine knew? It was maddening to think it knew parkour.

"Hah. A parkour dog. Harris would love you to bits," she joked, halfway immediately over the fence.

A Viral had scrambled in - hungry eyes targeted on the man inside the perimeter. But Melek was faster, diving its teeth onto a leg and pulling it back from him. A pull and flaying of her head to try and bring the threatening zombie down. It tried to retaliate back, unable to see the pitching at its head.

"Get inside! Now!" Jack hollered once she was over the fence. With a nod, the man did as he was told and back off, ducking inside.

Some walkers were scared. Some were angry. But their numbers had been thinned down by Jack and Freakazoid. Melek's pack gave a surprising chance to aid the strange humans - them warding the threat away rather than adding more with the noise. Maybe the infected decided it wasn't worth it when they couldn't catch any of the slippery dogs. No new Virals joined the shrinking horde on the attack.

A soft "arf!" caught Jack's attention once it seemed like the Biters just backed off. Melek attempted to communicate to her, in her own way, before the clever stray then slipped through a doggie door - maybe to tell her she was welcomed.

The brunette might as well give the ok to the people then. Freakazoid already hurried to secure the front gate in her stead as she hurried to the dog.

"It's safe," Jack called out. "Dogs scared them off."

She heard nothing inside. So of course, she stepped inside the animal shelter, looking well-stocked up for humans and four-leggeds. By the reception area, Melek sat next to the man, who was trying to get back his nerve.

Jack took another step only to hear a click.

"Don't move."

Jack's arms raised up. It was a shotgun. A shotgun. Pointing out of the back of the reception area.

"Zahia! Wait!"

A Turkish woman was the wielder of the firearm. Ready to shoot Jack clear off.

Being held at gunpoint wasn't old to her. But this time, she didn't cook up a plan to get out of it. Because she could see one important thing in the room the woman hid behind the desk.

The woman was extremely scared for that one important thing.

"Jack," her earpiece rang. Shit! The creepy voice almost made her jump. "Say the word and I'll come in."

"I'm no intruder," Jack explained to the woman, hands keeping well high up. She had to defuse the tension as much as possible.

"Zahia," the man regained his composure, delicately trying to take the gun from her. "She's not here to hurt us."

The hands were shaking, almost slowly giving the shotgun to him. The final verdict was made by Melek herself. She took over the stage before the bomb went off.

The silent dog could actually reason humans with no words - she forced herself in between Jack and the gunwoman. The mulitcolored eyes were soft, yearning, which the shooter noticed. Melek assured her human companion that it was alright.

"You…" the woman behind Jack started. "You took care of those monsters?"

"Your dogs cleaned up the rest." Jack took off her shades, a common custom she did in tight situations. "My partner's outside watching for stragglers."

A warning but also out of reassurance.

Another second passed. Then another tense second.

Suddenly, a heavy sigh of relief came out and the woman with the shotgun tumbled back. The man particularly rushed over, one hand taking the shotgun and the other to help her down on a seat.

"Zahia!" Jack counted several other people - what was left of the shelter's crew. A second woman and a younger man - between late teens and early twenties - hurrying over to the gunwoman. An old man was at the back, holding a broom as his only weapon. One grown man had his eye on Jack, just to be sure she wasn't going to do anything funny. With some help, the shooter steadied her breathing, hands tenderly cupped by the owner.

Almost immediately, Melek knew. The clever dog hurried over to her human friend and rested her nuzzle on the woman's thigh.

"I'm sorry… Couldn't take any risk," the shooter said, pushing the shotgun away with trembling hands.

"Nobody should. With everything happening in this city," Jack assured her.

The people she examined didn't look like they had any sort of connection, other than their occupations. Animal rescuers, folks who unfortunately were at the shelter wrong place and wrong time, one looking like a vet and if Jack had to gander, the shooter and the comforting man were in charge of the group.

He took a deep breath. "Thank you. If you hadn't come, I don't know what would happen."

With that, the room stirred up - the two men and one woman jumping in to work on better securing their safe zone. Check the damage and prepare for the next wave.

"I won't deny. Rather dangerous to have this much noise around. Aren't you afraid of attracting Virals-"

"No. No. Usually, the dogs can scare them off. We didn't expect so many Virals to come." Zahia collected herself.

Melek's owner then glanced at Jack's direction, almost squishing his eyes like he had only recognized something. "Wait a minute! Aren't you Mad Jack?!" he uttered with amazement. The younger guy joined in with wide eyes, exclaiming, "Really?!"

Jack shrugged. "Guilty as charged."

Zahia cracked out a soft smile. "I guess you can ask her for her autograph, Fuad."

"Really, now," she chided along with the mood. "More than happy to."

The man nervously crackled. "Y-Yes. Fuad. Fuad!" He took a moment from that little brain fart. "The owner of this shelter. Everyone's friend. Sorry. Give me a minute to sit down." He didn't sit, he particularly took the table to hold himself up.

"Take your time," Jack offered.

"You're my husband's favorite in the ring. The Wild Dog."

"Never thought I'd live this long to meet you in person. And with my luck already run up."

"How long did you have that bite?" Jack already shot the answer out before a frown could spread across Zahia's face and then contagious to Fuad.

He didn't have the time to hide the bite on his arm other than just a bandage. For the sake of everyone in the shelter, he kept up a poker face as best as he could.

The strain was readable, however, to Jack.

"Got it during the blackout… I haven't been hit with the symptoms yet." Like a switch flipped on, he beamed brightly and took his wife's hand. "It'll be alright. We've pulled through many things… We can pull through this. Never give up."

"For your child?"

The prompt managed to make Zahia crack a smile. A little. Enough for her to rest a palm on the heavily-rounded bump.

Zahia nodded. "Due day's supposedly around two weeks now."

A pregnant woman in the middle of an outbreak, and her husband infected with the Harran Virus.

That was the toughest deal of all, Jack thought to herself. The same woman had to show the strongest aura of all, for her child and Fuad. Because everyone knew that if they broke down, it would destroy the entire group inside the shelter.

The heavy burdens had mentally and physically affected her. But what gave her strength wasn't just the unborn baby or standing by her husband to the bitter end or the staff staying for them but Melek's overwhelming calm presence as well.

"Doc. Are you there?"

The couple looked confused. There was no person by that name. Even more puzzled at what she put her hand to her ear.

"Yes? What can I do for you?" spoke the self-appointed doctor on the other line.

"We have a group of people at the animal shelter. One bitten. Would it be alright if he takes my share for the Antizin?"

Fuad's eyes widened. Antizin?

"I see why not. But you know we have plenty-"

"It's alright. Give him my share as soon as possible."

"I'll get a runner over there."

"Much obliged."

It was almost too good to be true. Outrageous! Good things have never been handed to the animal shelter - Fuad had built everything up on his own for a decade. And to have someone, a legend, give the suppression drug to him?

It also dawned on him. That meant his hero was infected too.

"I can't take that. Y-You-"

"The Wild Dog isn't going to be stopped by a virus," Jack said with her usual confident smile. "You should take care of yourself for your family."

On the spot, he wanted to refuse. But her reputation was powerful - she had always made her say. A fan couldn't make her change her mind.

"Never give up," she repeated the same line he had always said. Over and over like a prayer.

"Thank you," Zahia expressed her gratitude. "Thank you."

"Really, thank Melek here. She led us to you."

"Yes. She is a clever one. Bravo, Melek. Bravo," Fuad uttered.

It was an immediate trot to Fuad - Melek's nose slipping under his stretched out palm for the pats. The enormous amount of appreciation from both humans couldn't be translated but just the praise was well-received to the canine. Her tail wagged while there was a serene look about the canine.

"All these dogs," Zahia explained. "We've rescued them across the country. Melek was found off Harran's streets."

"Ah," Jack exclaimed. "That explains a lot about her."

"Yes. Dogs of Harran are the cleverest creatures." Another inhale to dull down the anxiety inside the pregnant woman. "Fuad and I… We couldn't abandon them. But the storm came...I really thought they'd leave."

"But all of them stayed. Must be their way of returning the favor," Jack expressed. "You never gave up on them. They didn't either."

It was a thought that never crossed Zahia's mind. But it was a grateful thought that gave her some happiness, her husband's cheer helping to soften her steeled heart. Melek, the faithful companion, gave a comforting lick to encourage her.

They were going to be fine.

Then Melek's floppy ears perked up. The warmth died out with a snap of a finger, all ruined by sudden noises from outside.

Melek took off. To what was happening outside.

"Whoa! Hey! Hey! Hey! Shit! Stop!"

Jack could easily guess from the hollers through her earpiece.

"You said you have a partner." It only dawned on Fuad. "Are they ok with dogs? They've been on edge since this outbreak started."

The snaps on the other side of the call - a few "Down boy! Down! WATCH IT! ACK!"

"Oh. He'll be fine," Jack assured them. "He likes dogs."

---

"So. How's the view up there?"

The grin was daunting to Crane, boiling him up inside. It didn't make it any better with how the strays looked like they were smiling with the ex-kickboxer. Not even a Freakazoid glare could tell them all to back off.

A moment ago, he was impressed by the dogs. Braver than any guy he knew to leap from the shelter and attack the infected. Smart to keep a distance away from flailing arms and snapping teeth. The zombies couldn't put focus on which one to attack - the barks disorienting them around them.

The Virals were the tricky ones that not even the hounds could handle. Crane, however, took care of them until the undead crowd died out, getting tired of pursuing after the pack.

He thought it was over… Then the dogs suddenly turned on him and chased him up to a balcony. Like a cat escaping by going up a tree.

Jack came to his rescue, all right. Which he didn't want. Because she admired the scene in front of her with that usual cocky self of hers. Melek sat beside her, as if joining her in the sightseeing as well.

"Hardy har har," he snarled. "Can you please?"

"Alright, alright. Maybe I can find something for them to fetch..."

"URF!"

It was between a low bark and a growl, quiet that the walkers couldn't pick up but sharp for the canines to hear. It even surprised the two infected bipeds, seeing the pack disciplined with their ears down and tails between their legs. Melek, the quiet she-dog, head down and ears perked back, gave out that order and the others obliged, trotting back to the shelter.

"Impressive. She's her own boss here."

Safe. Crane slowly descended down the wall but he steered clear from Melek. Just to be careful.

She didn't return to the shelter. The multicolored eyes seemed locked on him, almost evaluating him. Did she somehow sense something was different from Crane? Or would the dog change her mind and attack him?

"Looks like she sees something in you."

That was so bullshit. Crane couldn't help but frown at that remark. "Really. What gave you that idea?"

"Well, she hasn't made you bugger off, now has she?" Jack pointed. "Pretty admirable."

Admirable?! He got chased by dogs like the Biters from earlier! "Admirable how?"

"That she hasn't run away from you."

He had never thought that. A dog, fearless by something like him? No way. But he couldn't help but be a little glad.

He understood, however. It was going to be a long way before the collared stray would be more accepting. Even to Jack. The situation had settled down so Melek trotted back to her home, stationing herself at the gate.

She was a guardian angel watching over her pack.

---

SIDE QUEST: CATCH OF THE DAY

---

A man named Durul dropped a bounty at the Junction. Description says he needs someone to hunt down a problem at Hope Habor. No takers. So I took it. - Jack

---

Crane was back at the vantage spot he had first found looking over Hope Harbor, eyes on the brunette entering past the UV barricade. Out of all the sleek yachts and expensive motorboats, a fishing boat stood out from the rest. Thinking back to his time in Harran, he had seen a few destroyed or beached dinghies near the Fishermen's Village but never the size as those forced to dock in the Harbor. In comparison, the fishing boat looked the most weathered and prepared than the other boats.

"Durul, I presume?" he listened to the chat on the two-way radio.

"Yeah," the fisherman uttered rudely, ditching a screwdriver aside out of fit. The engine went through a lot that he was now resorting to dismantling it. "What do you want?"

Jack turned her attention from the unusual dent into the boat's side. Something gave him a field day. And recent.

"You asked for some help from the Junction."

"Yes and every other 'helper' before you."

"Why the hostility? They couldn't finish it in time?"

"Gave up immediately. I'm not holding my breath."

"Too early to assume, mate. Try me."

The local fisherman huffed loudly, annoyed at the prying and his dying hope that someone would answer. But he pulled himself from his engine and gave one hard look at his supposedly-willing hired hand...

"I need you to catch a sea monster for me."

There was a sheer moment of silence. Just as Crane took a while to proceed what he had heard over the comms, Jack took a moment to respond.

There had never been a dull request for her. There had been questionable ones, other requests she had downright refused if they went against her rules.

And this was another case of people overthinking what her job scope was.

"Maybe you are asking the wrong person for the job. Not in the business of cryptid hunting. Nor do I believe in that sort of thing."

"Oh good," Crane mumbled sarcastically. "So you're not as mad as a mad dog after all."

He didn't see Jack roll her eyes all the way down in the Habor.

"I don't know what a...cry-pit is. Or what this thing is. Can't call it a whale," Durul explained as he climbed out of the engine to sit on the boat's edge. "But it's been terrorizing anyone out in the water for weeks now. Someone's gotta get rid of it."

"Terrorizing how?" Jack asked with a sense of 'she knew where this was going and she didn't like it'.

"Every boat leaving this port gets capsized by it. Nearly turned mine over." He pointed to the damage on the bow.

"And nobody has seen it? Beast came out of nowhere?"

"Well...yeah."

"Hell's bells." Jack's shoulders slumped down.

"Sounds like you've run into this thing before."

"And here, I thought I wouldn't come across it again."

"Thing is attracted to engine noises. It's not going to be long before it starts attacking the harbor," Durul explained the urgency. "Three people couldn't catch it before you. So if you take the job, I'll make it three times worth your while."

For the first time, the brunette hesitated. Didn't say 'yes' to the job and took a few seconds to contemplate. Now Crane dreaded the idea of going after whatever their target was if Mad Jack was that apprehensive. "Don't suppose you can give me a net to catch the thing?"

"Tried that. This thing is uncatchable... You can ask the newcomers," Durul pointed a finger to the far part of the closed safe zone. At some van. "A pair of loonies. But they can build kooky stuff. If you get them on the same page. Maybe they can help you."

Really? After saying normal tactics couldn't stop the hidden sea-dweller? But Jack might as well try - never had she quit a job and neither had she backed away from an impossible one.

But really, she should, Crane thought to himself as he slouched back on his perch while Jack went over to the van.

"So I heard a few geniuses here can help me with a problem. Know who that might be?" The usual roll of Jack's introduction to any stranger.

Strangely, no reply. What, the fisherman said the wrong thing?

"Hmph. Looks worse than the last monkey."

"That's rude! She could be helpful."

Hang on. Why did those voices sound familiar?

"Excuse me?" Jack exclaimed - a little seething tint of disdain under her calm tone.

"She doesn't look as trustworthy as he was."

"You idiot! You're going to make her mad!"

"I am not!"

"Oh, no. Don't mind me. I'll leave you two to your quarrel," Jack added. Crane wasn't sure if it was her attempt to bail or another one of her playful schemes. "You clearly are busy-"

"See what you did, Fatin!"

"Shut up, Tolga!"

Crane's eyes widened. He bolted right up from his seat.

No way.

He literally leapt to the edge of the shadows, his brain whacking itself with disbelief. But no matter how many times he hoped for what he had just heard to be fake...no, he heard them alright.

It was almost like seeing a memory of his past unfold before him. Standing before Jack at a van parked near the boathouse were two familiar faces - extraordinarily brilliant but god, could they not stop belittling you.

Why were those two here in Scanderoon of all places?!

"Boys. Tolga and Fatin, right? " Jack immediately stepped in to defuse the situation - her trademark charisma having some effect. "We got off the wrong foot here. Jack Brecken's the name. You might have heard of me as the Wild Dog. "

"No."

"Never heard of you."

"Never heard of me-?! How… Forget it." Jack responded deflatedly. "Can you help me or not?"

It looked as if there would be a standstill. The two men glanced at each other, the uncertainty about cooperating with a new stranger reflected on their unsmiling faces. Crane could only hope they would turn her down.

"Fine," Fatin exclaimed. Not at Jack but to the other man. "We underestimated him the first time round."

"Remember. Use simple words. We can't confuse her like the last one."

"Confusion is the least of your worry, mates," Jack pointed, the hum in her voice partially breaking.

"So? What do you want? " Fatin started.

The body language on Jack already told the story - she should quit. Now and then. There was no way her silver tongue could work on these two either, Crane thought to herself.

But she was a stubborn woman, after all. So she gave it a try.

"Need to catch something big and nasty in the waters. Durul says you could make something for it."

Crane should have told her to leave. He paced aggressively back and forth. What should he do?!

That got the gears ticking inside those skulls of theirs. A few passing glances at each other.

"He is right, right?"

"Of course, he is," Fatin remarked rudely, easily taking Jack's bait. "You primitives always have to question every little thing."

"I just assumed my simple words were too much for you," she sang.

"You see," Tolga responded, almost unaffected by that remark, much to Jack's surprise. "She handles information a lot faster than he did."

"That might be a problem. Her mouth runs as fast as her ape brain processes."

"Ape brain?" Jack snapped. Just a very tiny snarl in her voice. But the two brothers rebuffed it completely. Or didn't hear it.

"What do you expect? Female primates do better on tasks related to verbal ability."

"That is only conjecture. Males and females are no different when it comes to primate intelligence."

"Except the size of the cranial. Size does not equate to better capability."

"Quite true. We'll just have to endure it, " Fatin indeed directed that remark towards Jack.

"Agreed."

"Why do I feel like this requisition is the other way around..." Jack grumbled. This business wasn't going how she thought it would.

"You're catching a big fish. Simple. You need a speargun."

"A fish doesn't turn boats over," Jack muttered at Fatin, wondering if he didn't comprehend the scale of this job.

"A hydraulic spring will do," Fatin pondered with his brother.

"A rig, too. Stainless steel."

"And blades for the tethers."

"Got that? Get these items for us and we'll make you a weapon."

"Remember. Hydraulic spring," Tolga said slowly. "Stainless steel rig. And a handful of blades."

"I heard you the first time." Any trace of Jack's grin had completely been wiped away from her face. The faster she'd leave, the better this dribble could end.

But that wasn't the end - Crane thought to himself. Oh boy. What had Jack gotten herself in… This was going to be the start of a long, mentally and physically drained line of work.

Maybe he should tell her. About those two. But that could open more cans of worms!

"What's wrong with you?"

Crane wheeled back to see Jack joining him up on his perch. Dammit. Not again. How easy was his face for her to read off it?

"Nothing's wrong," he replied. Hopefully, not too quickly.

"Hm-hm."

That 'hm-hm'. She had used that phrase before when she already had a thought in mind. Another one of her guesses on his past. Just more fuel to his anxiety when Jack didn't speak that guess out.

"What's that 'hm-hm' for?" This time, he went on the front. He should have ignored her.

"Oh. You look like someone hit you with a shovel."

He couldn't help but weakly laugh. "That's...one way to put it…" Kyle exhumed so much air out of his chest. "So we're going with this plan?"

"What plan?"

Crane turned back to see an eyebrow raise behind the shades. The brunette didn't budge from her spot.

"You know... Making this thingamajig?" he said with uncertainty. Why the hesitation? That was a first from Jack.

In fact, she looked unimpressed. As if she already expected how this could end so she chose another option herself. "I just thought we could go straight to finding Fishstick."

"Ok, the direct approach. But...aren't you a bit..." Crane really tried to find the right word. "Opposed to the idea?"

"If you want my honest opinion. This weapon of theirs sounds hogwash."

"Really?" Crane exclaimed vocally. Coming from her, of all people? "You asked them for this thing."

"If it were the Grads, sure. Some of them are brilliant engineers. These two? I can't get a good read on them."

Was that why she wanted out? But he couldn't argue there: Tolga and Fatin were just...insufferable. In their own rights.

"They're harmless... I mean, from the looks of things," he quickly added that small line. Divert Jack away from the small little truths he hid. "They could help us."

"Or they could blunder the job. All we know is they could be talking out of their asres and this weapon becomes a bloody bomb."

Boy, understatement of the year, Crane thought to himself. The things Fatin and Tolga could make. They built a frigging rocket, for Christ's sake.

Last time he saw them was on one side of a dam in the Countryside and the last time he heard was from the other side. The two, while idiosyncratic that Crane could not believe he had tolerated their condescending, numbing banter for so long, were no joke in engineering the most complex, convoluted ideas. They built a submarine one time! Which unfortunately failed on the first testing.

Their last idea he helped create - it shouldn't have worked. But it did. And Crane truly believed they had escaped the quarantine, right out of Harran.

But he didn't think these two would somehow be stuck in another quarantine zone. Not sure if he could find it funny or ironic. Talk about as much back luck as he had. Only without being turned into a monster.

Was it a blessing or a curse? Still debating on that.

"And? You've talked out of your ass many times."

Jack smirked. "Ah, but I do it with a flare. They are as thick-headed as two brick walls facing each other."

"You don't have to tell me twice," he grumbled softly. "But hey…" He actually held himself back. On one hand, he wanted to leave. Fast. On another, he wasn't the one dealing with those two. Crane just couldn't find the right, convincing words. "Maybe it'd surprise you."

Nope. Seemed like it didn't convince Jack.

"...Alright," she answered. "This one is on you then."

Ah, hell. Not what he wanted to hear.

"Could really do without the nicknames."

"Look who's talking." Jack clearly ignored him again.

"If this doesn't impress me," she stopped herself as she pondered. "Well, you've yet to stop impressing me."

Crane gruffed at her with a flare of his nostrils. Fine, he might as well hold up his fists if she kept at the conversation game.

"Wouldn't want to bore ya," he droned sarcastically. "We'd better not keep them waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

Crane jerked his head back at the surprising question. "The stuff. What else."

"Pft," a soft, tiny laugh escaped from those lips of hers. "How adorable."

The bright blue eyes narrowed tightly at her. He was about to rebuke, demand where she was going with this - that was all stopped when Jack went to the comms.

"Ender. Riza. Have a shopping list for you."

"What are ya buying?" Ender answered with some sort of exaggerated, croaky voice.

"One hydraulic spring, cable rig, and a handful of blades."

"Exactly what are you making? And should we be concerned?" Riza asked.

"I'm not making this arts n' craft project. These two guys are. Go by the names, Tolga and Fatin."

"Wait."

"We know those names."

"You do?"

"Yeah. They're like, the smartest engineers in the country," Ender explained. "They came to the University to give a lecture on acoustical engineering. At Geyong's department."

"Last year, right? " Riza added.

"Think so. Heard they insulted one of the lecturers' intellect to the point of tears."

"Ahaha! I remember that now. Geyong was so thrilled!"

"I'm surprised they're alive. Thought they were still in Harran."

"Uh-huh," Jack replied, completely disinterested in the little details. "So can you get the stuff?"

"We'll be done in a jiffy. "

"Call you later."

With the end of that call, Jack glanced over to Freakazoid. Putting out her palms as if to say, 'see? It's that easy.'

"I may be a retrieval specialist. But I'm not wasting time scavenging for parts when I have a supply system to work with."

"Hmph," Crane groaned vocally. He would, actually. "Well, excuse me if I like to get down and dirty."

"I know. You really showed me how you do things."

She got a low and sharp gruff from Freakazoid, translating in a way that said 'stop rubbing it in', before he took off first, Jack right behind.

---

"It's finished."

Jack peered over her shades with a stern look as she carefully took the weapon from Fatin. For one, she didn't expect any out of this. Two, she didn't think the two brothers could make something out of the collected junk and two hours worth.

It was a weapon, all right. And as they called it, a man-made spear gun. But she had to call it a contraption. Quite heavy, at first making her concerned that two grown men struggled to carry it to her but once she took it, she commented to herself, they weren't as physically adept as she was. The device was overall straightforward in design: easy to latch it down to something and a deadly tether to do the job for her.

Surprising for a Frankenstien's monster work but now the next question: would it work?

"Don't suppose you've tested this...thing?" Jack dared to ask.

"It will work," Tolga said confidently. "Make sure to strap the end to something. Your boat will have to do."

"Don't go pointing at yourself," Fatin explained, reenacting a poor attempt of 'holding a rifle'. "Aim and pull the trigger. Easy task for your proto-human cranial cogitator to understand."

"You must be wonderful at parties," Jack jested. But for the first time, the jab felt dissatisfying to her as it simply flew over their heads.

"Never been to one."

"Must be tumultuous if organized by simians."

All the brunette could utter was a tired sigh. What were these two human beings?

Well, she was already this far committed. Couldn't back down. So she returned to Caroline, Freakazoid waiting patiently on starboard.

"That's it?"

"Supposedly." As instructed, she hooked the rig to the boat and started the engine. Off they went across the waters. "Let's see how bad this all goes."

"C'mon. It's a spear gun. That's gotta do the job."

"You're awfully optimistic about this one." It was too specific, too casual. Why?

A huff escaped the Day Hunter. How could she think that, Jack read the question off his body language. But he had a moment of hesitation, as if he were to say he was always optimistic, it'd come off as a lie.

"You're the one acting pessimistic here," he dodged. "It'll be a piece of cake."

"Really, now?" she hummed.

"Yeah," he barked. Then he realized he fell for the easiest trap - now he had to keep up with the excuse. "For once, this doesn't involve bullets."

"Good point."

Which meant it was only 'one' good point to her. And that gave him an uncontrollable itch.

"...Sure. We're two, three hundred feet away from shore… If this boat goes under, we'll have a long swim. Heh… Has this thing eaten people before?"

"Dunno. Never saw it rise up from the surface. Best be ready."

"You're not helping."

"This is the place." With the gears shifted and the boat slowed to a crawl, Jack scanned the surroundings. "Not far from where I crashed."

It had been what? A few days since she unintentionally docked into Scanderoon? And those few days, she got herself a couple of surprises - the biggest one peering out as the watchful hawk for their target. None of them was a disappointment to her. And now look at where she was.

Sailing along the Coastline...waiting for her mysterious boat-crasher to come...

"Annnd we're fishing… Thrilling," Jack grumbled.

Patience was a virtue. But that was with people or zombies. She was on a boat, waiting for something to take the bait - that something having forced her right into the Coast. She couldn't use her words or her fists for this one. She had to wait.

So impatience slowly and insidiously took over the Wild Dog. Every quiet second out at sea felt like a minute longer. It prompted her to drum her fingers on the wheel. Just to get something to spice the dullness.

"I'm not being entertained," she complained.

"It's been a minute. Can't you be a little patient?"

"I am patient," she continued. "But this thing comes and goes like a shark. Mongrel rammed into my boat-"

Thoomd!

"Whoa!" It was sudden - the boat shaking and the odd sound below his feet. Crane particularly had to regain his balance by gripping tight to the boat's edge. He glanced cautiously at the water.

"What was that just now?" he asked, only to see the stern look on Jack's face and her hand readied on a weapon. Full-on fight mode.

That wasn't good.

CRASH!

"Shit!"

The second impact came out of nowhere, stronger than the first. The boat went spinning as Jack's rapid steering to regain control helped stop it from turning over.

This time, she was prepared. She couldn't let Caroline fall to the sea-beast or else, Lenny would never forgive Jack - he'd outright fray her skin. Keeping an eye on the two lines of seafoam trailing after the boat, she steered the boat in a zig-zag pattern. True to Durul's tip, it was attracted to the engine - the faster Jack drove Caroline, the louder it roared.

"Here it comes!" she warned.

Crane hurried, preparing the contraption, the rig to the boat. With the snaking streams across the water surface acting like target lines of a dartboard, he lined up the shot. Right in the center.

He was confident the device would work - it was made by Tolga and Fatin. Chances of it failing versus chances of the boat sinking?

Wouldn't matter which was the worse outcome out of the two.

He pulled the trigger.

Ka-sthwip!

Out shot like a dart powered by air pressure. Dove down under the water. The streams shifted in a jerk and a cloud of red foam dispersed under the murky surface.

"We caught it!" Freakazoid hollered.

"I don't believe it!" Jack uttered. "That thing-"

The rig tugged with a loud sound.

"-worked!" Her whole world turned into a tumble. Hands off the wheel and back hit against hardwood.

It worked too good! Right there and then, Crane felt him lose his footing. It was a desperate attempt to grab for a railing but it helped him get back up.

Ok. Maybe in hindsight, it wasn't a good idea to attach the rig to the boat! Why did Jack listen to those two?! No! Kyle would foolishly have done it himself, he thought!

Against the shakiness of the boat, he worked his way to the rig. Same was said with Jack, trying to take control on the wheel. Whatever the sea creature was, it had to be massive! But just as Crane tried to unhook the cable - an attempt made impossible with the tension tight thanks to the sea monster pulling on it - everything ceased moving. A sudden jolt of the boat and all seemed to calm down.

"It stopped," Kyle said with relief. Did it die?

Jack's face didn't agree with him. The seriousness hadn't washed away from her, mixed with apprehension for some reason. She quickly turned to the dashboard and the engine purred back to life. Caroline turned around.

Crane regretfully wheeled back, with shoulders dropped once he saw the two streams reappearing and taking a slow steer towards them.

"And it's coming back."

"Spoke too soon, mate!"

"I know! I know!"

The hunt had turned itself around - lassoed to the teeth, thanks to the rig. If it weren't the fact the creature underwater was a tab slower than the boat, that would be it. Thanks to the distance between them, the rig was loose. With a hurry, Freakazoid unhinged the cable right off from the boat.

Now they weren't tied to the damn shark.

"It's still following us!"

"You bloody remember our first encounter, Fishstick," Jack hissed, not to Freakaoid but at their pursuer. Despite the attempts to shake the sea beast off, it was relentless in chasing the small boat.

"What do we do? Go to the shore?"

Something then caught Jack's gaze. Off in the distance. "Taking a detour."

"What?!" To where?! But all Crane could do was let the ride take them onwards. The coastline wasn't that far. Now they were towards more of the tourism district, stone walls dressing the side compared to sandy beaches or wooden piers.

At one point was a canal. Like every exit of the channels Jack had driven Caroline through, in and out into the ocean. Nestled right above was a familiar and small establishment. Rickety. Man-made and people patrolling the edges.

One of the prisoners' outposts. And they were heading towards it.

"Jaaack!" he hollered with a sad whine. And he knew it was pointless.

Mad Jack grinned wickedly and widely.

Tik-tik-tik-tik!

The bullets from the assault rifles darted. Both passengers of the Caroline dropped down for cover. The boat turned a sharp right, right through the channel's entrance like an arrow. For a split second, the convicts up in the outpost wondered what was all that above but their eyes quickly noticed the strange streams of foam heading their direction.

"Shit!"

THUD! CRASH!

Timbered went one of the foundation structures from the aftershock, the rickety wood and two convicts right into the water. More gunfire and shouts erupted - the sea beast had certainly stirred a lot more trouble other than crashing into the outpost.

Jack turned the boat around and drove back forward. From the sound of the chaos, their target might have risen up from the water. So as the boat sailed out of the channel, the duo searched for the damage. Which wasn't hard to spot.

The convicts had built their establishment into part of what looked like a closed yacht club - perhaps for something 'fancy and rich' for the corrupted. Beyond the barrier rocks was a crop of an artificial beach - a slope where any creature from the sea could crawl out from.

Their mark came out onto the beach like the Swamp Thing from that one movie Jack had watched. A little surprised to see it walk on two legs and not 'hop' like a fish out of water or move with hideous tentacles.

"Is that...a Demolisher?"

A very big one. Maybe just as big as the Holler Crane encountered in the Countryside - a towering freak of nature that was as tall as a house. But this one was slightly bloated, covered in algae and seaweed it had collected from its underwater walks. The skin had paled from having been submerged for who knew how long.

"How is it alive?" Crane exclaimed. "I thought the infected drown in the water."

"Can a Demolisher even die from hydrophobia? Never had tested that out in the Outskirts. We don't have any large bodies of water," Jack hummed to herself, cupping her chin as she pondered.

A loud, faraway thud captured their attention. The Demolisher had disappeared from their sight but the rafters of a nearby coastal building crumbled off like having a wrecking ball through it.

"This thing is going to destroy the city if we leave it!"

"Who said we were?" In a hurried leap off the Caroline, she unhinged the harpoon gun and vaulted up the sea wall. Freakazoid followed her up and higher to the nearby buildings for a better view.

Three tethers left. The brunette quickly slipped one into the gun, the rig roped around a pillar. In hindsight, she took it because she wanted to try it herself now that Jack had witnessed the raw power behind it.

At least, the brothers were smart enough to put a scope on it. Not on par with a sniper rifle but enough for her to see.

Through the eyeglass, she spotted the first tether lodged through the Demolisher's shoulder, at a downwards angle, with the rig draping behind. So she moved her aim to the other shoulder.

Ka-sthwip!

Right where she wanted through the crosshair - at the other shoulder.

"Holy shit," she hollered as Jack took a moment to shake the sudden pain of her wrists. Didn't expect the knockback. "Gun can pack a punch."

"Really? Hand it over," Freakazoid asked and got back the harpoon gun without a complaint. Odd, though. He didn't feel any knockback.

"Going down," Jack sang as she descended down a nearby zipline with her ascender tool. The Day Hunter rocketed off, one tendril fired out for him to Tarzan his way over the yacht club.

The second tether did quite little to slow Demolisher down. In fact, it was but a chain for a furious, large dog. The giant infected waddled into another charge but couldn't go in a straight line. Led by the limitation of the rig. If it weren't for it, the water-logged infected would have stampeded through the front gates.

It had only then noticed the woman in red running towards it and pitching something right at its feet.

BANG!

A DIY grenade shredded off the armor easily - more so than a regular Demolisher's. Days, months in saltwater had indeed eroded the riot gear. But the small explosion startled the sea beast up with a wave of its heavy arms.

"Damn," Jack cursed, forced to roll out of harm's way.

Ka-sthwip!

The third tether skewed right into a leg and into the concrete. All the way from another pillar on the first floor of what was the club's entrance.

Kyle was about to use the last harpoon when he spotted Jack turning around from where she had skipped to and grabbing the dangling rig - the first shot he made. Right on the go, she already had an idea - a crazy idea, no doubt - where she took the rig and roped it to another nearby pillar.

Dammit, Jack! One person doing that wouldn't be enough!

Holstering the harpoon gun away, he dashed over to Jack. No matter how much gloating she did about her golden career, the ex-kickboxer couldn't pull alone. The sound of the rig reeling from her gloved hands? A recipe for burns if she held on for too long.

Then she took out her ascender. Another idea had already came to mind before Freakazoid joined her in the pulling. Latched the ascender onto the rig and that was enough of a grip, the teeth inside the contraption biting the line in place. There had been a tug, nearly bringing the two off their feet. Luckily, one inch, two inch, the rig went back and the Demolisher went backwards as well.

Its footing finally gave way and the monster timbered down, like a chopped-down oak tree. THUD! It went like any defeated Demolisher. Limbs flopped a little in comparison to a turned-over turtle. Its own heaviness prevented the infected from getting back up.

One last groan bellowed out of the Demolisher. A gurgling, choking sound that grew softer towards the end.

The two glanced at each other with wide eyes. They had taken down a feat no other survivor could have done, tripping a Demolisher and a big one at that. Such an attempt could easily be broken by a simple bull's charge.

Crane cautiously staggered to the fallen beast. The large ribcage didn't raise up and down but there was now a horrendous smell. Like rotten fish. A light kick to the side did nothing to revive it back up.

"It's dead."

"Gah," Jack choked from the rancid odour. She couldn't help but laugh with a bit of disappointment. "Well, that's anti-climatic."

"Uh. Jack."

Oh. She already noticed the gathering, angry men - strolling closer to them now that the biggest danger had succumbed. Steaming mad that two idiots with a boat and a giant infected managed to destroy half of their outpost.

"Bastards!"

"Hands in the air!"

Taking a gradual pause, Jack raised her arms up - give the blokes a moment to lower their defenses for her unexpected leap. Freakazoid did the same, mostly for the brunette's sake. He had the contraption in his hand, held up high.

"You think it's funny to bring that thing here?" one barked.

"Guess we should thank you for cleaning up your mess. Now we want compensation for the damage."

"Drop your weapon!" a thug demanded with a shotgun pointed at them.

Really, though? How dumb were these convicts, Crane wondered. They were surrounded by infected people that flocked to the loud noises they were making.

"Drop it!"

"Do what they say, mate."

His unnaturally-blue eyes peered back to the grin on Jack's face without turning his head. A shrug of her shoulders told him they had no 'choice', after all.

So Crane dropped it, throwing the spear gun forward.

Ka-sthwip!

The last tether fired, speared through the very prisoner who made that demand. Right between the eyes, his brain exploded from the fanning of the sharp blades. An unfortunate way to go for the bloke but an opportunity for the two to jump out for a fight. The rest of the convicts - too baffled at the sudden, horrible death before them and already too late for them to retaliate back.

The grinning, maddening woman in red and the cloaked monster under the hoodie took them out without any problem.

---

"Here's your fish monster."

Thud!

"Holy-!" Durul jumped at the evidence Jack dropped on the pier, his nose twitched from the horrid fish stench. The head of an infected with a barnacle-covered helmet. With tether hooked onto it, so that Jack could have an easy way to carry the bloody thing.

"A Demolisher? That's what's been turning boats over?"

"Seems like it," she hummed her amusement.

"But that means… It's gotta be massive to be able to capsize boats underwater."

"Actually, it's around twenty feet. Give or take. Biggest Demolisher I've ever encountered," Jack pointed. "Maybe it can swim."

"How did it get into the Coast?"

"Does it matter?" Jack asked. "Now the waters' safer without this thing around."

"Safer." Durul's face twisted. "...Wish the Navy could stop bombing anyone who leaves."

"All we can do is be patient. Hope for things to settle down."

"Heh. Ain't that a kick in the head."

So very true. What could be done when the whole world had their own problems to deal. Despite her best efforts to give a little something back, she couldn't help but take a glance at the fallen city behind her and exhume a soft sigh.

She could take the challenge. She could tempt fate to see how long she could survive. But the rest of Scanderoon, the Outskirts and Harran? That was the impossible for them.

Alright. Jack turned her gaze to the van and walked over.

"That gadget you built," she started, catching the attention of the two brothers. "You weren't kidding about it working."

An arrogant huff escaped from Fatin. "More primitive questioning. You shouldn't waste your neurons on pointless thought processes."

"How many aneurysms have you burst doing that?" Tolga pointed. "Can't be healthy."

"Has anyone told you that you can be difficult to work with?" Jack asked with the 'tamest' word she could find. But she held every ounce of strength to keep going with her silver tongue. "But I would be lying to myself that I didn't see the potential."

"That's what our boss said too. Mr Dal."

"A visionary. A billionaire, too. Had the same ideology as we did."

"But sometimes, he got blinded by his own expectations."

"Couldn't imagine why," she droned quickly. Move on, she thought to herself, don't stagger too long, as she brought forth the device in her hand. "Can you tweak this to be more practical on land? Easy to set up and fast on the go."

"For the infected?" Fatin started, now with a motion of curiosity.

"Mainly, the Specials."

"You hunt infected?" Tolga asked.

"Retrieval specialist. But I guess that's part of my resume lately," Jack laid out her job description. "That invention of yours. It can help me with a side project I'm doing."

Again, the brothers looked at each other.

"She's tackling the problem head-on."

"Barbaric. Like every primate. But she has a point."

"We have tried three times to escape the quarantine area. The last one was successful."

"The only problem is the rest of the world. Some idiot monkey brought the virus out."

"A global scale. We should just isolate ourselves to an island."

"No. The submarine was a failure. Blew up because of you."

"You were the one who blew it up!"

"Boys!" Jack interrupted. What a clown show she was in. "Can you improve the design or not?"

"We can," Tolga exclaimed with confidence.

"But not for free."

"Of course…" Ok. These two were extremely clever, she had to give them that. "Here I thought you'd be, ahem, fixated to care about materialistic things," Jack spat.

"How else can you invent without fundings?" Tolga pointed. "We have our futures to worry about."

"Not much of a future anyone has with this virus going about," Jack mumbled quietly.

"We also care about results," Fatin stated. "You look like you're good at stress-testing."

"More experimenting means fewer failures. Fewer failures mean a better design."

"So 'quid pro quo'," Jack uttered at that conclusion.

"Impressive."

"The primate knows Latin."

"We expect good things from you."

"So don't disappoint us."

"I'll keep that in mind," Jack murmured tiredly.

Way up at the usual perch, Crane watched it all. He had a bit of satisfaction out of Jack's dismay. But what had she gotten herself into? She was the negotiator, the skilled manipulator here but whatever she did or tried, the conversation never went her way with these two. Same went for him so Kyle simply let it run its course. It was idiosyncrasy, after all.

What could he do? He couldn't turn down before - he knew on the spot, those two would somehow contact him again. And Jack was in the same spot that she couldn't get out even if she tried.

"Here we go again," he mumbled to himself.

---

A/N: 28/5/2021 Hello everyone and very sorry for the long-awaited but not really because this is another intermission chapter, chapter.

This is also a tricky chapter because of a long of thinking and going over the source materials while still keeping the stories interesting. Also one of these short stories is gonna pissed many people off, especially one person I know irl. Ladies and gents, my closest, best friend and also a reader of the Descent. Heyo, friend! I know you're reeing loudly as you read this after reading a short portion with two Dying Light characters most people hate: Tolga and Fatin. :D Love you too!

For context, me and my friend played Dying Light and the Following together while enjoying most of the story. He *hates* the two brothers with a passion. :P So I couldn't pass it up.

This intermission chapter was quite difficult because I had a hard time imagining how Jack would have to handle these two. I kinda thought her being a quick thinker and schemer could give some leeway. But then I realized, It's Tolga and Fatin. It ended up a very interesting interaction that not even the Wild Dog can deal. To a degree. And as Crane said at the end, here we go again.

BTW, Vulpes is actually a character from Dying Light - the unnamed pilot you hear at the 13th story questline, Broadcast. For the longest time since making this story, I had always wanted to write about him, whether short or not. Vulpes may not be the name because he had no name to begin with. However, there was a part in his voiceline that sounded like he was stating a codename, as close to sounding like Vul-pes. I could be entirely wrong and I don't mind fixing this if his name was officially stated by Techland. All in all, I absolutely adore what I created for this one-time background character! :3 And I hope you like him more too!

Anyhow, I'm slowly working my way back to the main plot. I've also decided that this arc should soon finish up and I can move on. There are still a lot of things I need to tackle but I have overstepped long on Arc 1. I want to get to the other Arcs and more diving regarding Jack and Crane. Arc 1 isn't enough to cover more depth between them, as well as Crane's lil box of secrets that it does have to be spread out. With that said, once I'm done with Arc 1, we can get more into the juicy parts of storytelling. So the next chapters will take some time in planning/brainstorming/development. It's also quite difficult because there are quite a number of unfinished elements so far and I don't want to leave them unfinished for another arc as well as not extending the end for too long. So we'll see how this all goes.

With that said, I hope you enjoy these little short stories and more to come in the future! Let me know which did you like the most and if there are things you'd like me to tackle in these short stories with Jack and Crane, or a callback to things from the first game and the Following!

28/5/21 - First initial.

29/5/21 - Fixed errors and phrasing.

19/12/21 - Fixed errors and phrasing.
5/3/22 - Went over a full chapter edit with some fixes, retwists, deletes and adjustments. Removed a dialogue section and replaced it with new dialogue, for Guardian Angel quest. Maybe will bring the old chunk to a future quest story.

5/4/22 - Fixed a missing line.