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)

27. TWENTY-FOUR: LOOSE ENDS

Chapter Summary

- RUN BOY RUN

We found Peri and the missing survivors and got them out of that outpost with those Grads' help. Now Alexander's men are after our heads. That's fine with me. - Kyle

---

TWENTY-FOUR: LOOSE ENDS

---

"Bzzt!"

Static resounded in Jack's ear like an unwanted worm.

"Jack. What a surprise."

She ignored the dulcet tones snaking their way into the comms. If GRE had surveillance devices, then Alexander would certainly have seized them for his own benefit.

So hijacking the channel was child's play.

It was nothing but stalling. The criminal lord's loyal mutts hounded after her and Freakazoid. Some tried to climb the rooftops, one cutting close to grabbing the woman in red.

Only for the bloke to get roped by the hooded man instead and be pulled right off the edge. He plummeted—splat onto the bloodied pavement—another misguided soul removed from the face of a shattered city.

"Not only have you been putting your nose into my business, but you've got yourself an interesting-looking pet."

Crane could have protested—snap at him and say, "Who are you calling a pet?" The way this convict accentuated that name actually made his thick skin crawl.

"You haven't lost your touch," Alexander droned.

"I don't disappoint." A jab back at him, even though Jack knew it wouldn't make a dent.

"Hm," he hummed, ruffled. "I could spend the next minute asking questions. But you know how business is."

"There she is!"

BANG!

A bullet strayed past her head the moment she slid down the asphalt shingle and ducked behind an air-con vent.

"You're kidnapping people and testing them for the Harran Virus. What's more to it?" Right to the point, Jack had never held back her punches.

"Is that why you've been snooping around?" Alexander countered. Feigning his shock. "Heroism is not your shtick."

She dashed around her hiding place. The shifting shadows gave it away—a convict trying to get the jump on her first stared right back at the woman with shock.

The close distance became his disadvantage as a sharp parry to his dominant arm rendered him helpless with a hard, brutal shove of his head to the vent.

THUD!

Alexander continued to drone. "Ever heard the phrase, 'the need of the many outweighs the need of the few'?"

He added a chuckle, as if he found it ironically hilarious.

"Everyone wants a solution to this pandemic. What's so bad about a few infected people helping out our cause?" he explained with no shred of morals. "We only live once."

Always reasoning with people. Bringing them to his vision. And putting that fine print in between the lines.

It's easy to lose a life anytime, anywhere.

"Watch your back, Jack," Alexander warned. "Because this time, I won't give favors."

There was a history Crane couldn't deny in the lines. From everything he's been learning about the current news in Scanderoon, the man named Alexander has made 'his business' even before Kyle regained his humanity. And almost mirroring his own problematic deal with Rais, Jack had also treaded carefully—or vivaciously with intent—around this guy's feet.

But the thing about favors…

"And I'll be sure to take that pet off ya," the Greek convict pointed with fascination in his voice.

"Give it your best shot."

Freakazoid shouldn't have done that, but Jack didn't try to stop him.

One startled laugh escaped from the comms. Then came his excited, loud burst. A surprise to Alexander in the middle of everything; hearing first-hand something that should have been deemed fiction.

"So he talks?!" he gushed. "He really talks!"

To Crane, hearing a man cackle made him growingly uncomfortable, sprouting out Greek words of excitement. If this were Rais, he would definitely jump to the idea of capturing a sentient infected.

Jack, however, drowned out the bellowing. Kept her feet going, eyes up front. The furthest they were away from that man, the better.

He was entertained. And a pleased Valchos was the last thing Jack wanted.

"Oooh…" Alexander ended with the same, usual reticent tone. "Keep making this interesting, Jack."

And like that, the chase crawled to an end—either the convicts had given up or the duo had indeed killed a great number on the go. Anti-climatic, disconcerting, and yet reassuring at the same time.

Jack scouted back to see themselves far from the outpost. It had been on the spur of the moment when she just decided to go in one direction and didn't look back.

That also meant Ender and Riza headed off in their own directions, away from the danger.

"Ender. Riza. You two all right?" Jack quickly called over the comms.

It took a few seconds for any response, clutching at her worry. Then she felt it lift off once she heard Ender's voice.

"We're good," he assured through bated breath. "Got Peri and the kid to a safe place."

"You didn't see any infected in robes?"

An odd question that Freakazoid picked on but left the other speakers puzzled.

"Robes?" Ender repeated.

"Are we talking about those cultists?" Riza intruded. "We didn't see them."

Jack didn't go into context, uncertain on what she had seen…

She moved on. Some other time on this strange story.

"Whole neighborhood's a mess now." Smoke could be seen and wails could be heard over the urban landscape, thanks to their small trespassing in the outpost.

"We can take these two back to the Junction." No play on words, not witty banter from Riza either. The two Grads had their priorities already set so that lighthearted talk could be done another time.

"Don't stop for anything."

The silence comforted Jack that they'd follow through. No matter what, they couldn't get caught. Not when Alexander was in that kind of mood now…

"So."

She wheeled back to her partner.

"Not only do you have GRE looking for you. But you also have the most dangerous man after your head… What did you do before you met me?"

She uttered her usual, nonchalant laugh. "There's a lot of things I've done."

"Shocker," he countered out loud.

"Isn't it better to keep your friends close and your enemies closer?"

"You don't see this as a problem."

"Never have. I see this as an opportunity."

"Opportunity," Crane finished the sentence just as she said it. He was almost in rhythm with Jack, which was a scary thought. "Remember that when you're six feet under and I'm put in a cage again."

Again, Jack shrugged it off. There was a fine difference between being overconfident, and being too gutless, but he kept that to himself.

"You can't stay in Scanderoon."

And who decided that? However, Jack refrained from saying it. She thought it over; she knew full well before she left the Outskirts that she'd have to make both friends and foes. She just didn't anticipate seeing an old face...

"Technically, my contract with the Junction is finished." She glanced at Freakazoid with the usual grin. "I got the Day Hunter. Found Crybaby. And we put a stop to those disappearances."

Jack strode about casually as she pondered a conclusion...

"Why not?" she said to herself. "We can go sightseeing some other place."

Crane huffed. "You mean Harran."

"It's not like I can go anywhere else, can I?"

Crane didn't rebuke back at the jesting joust. It did leave him in knots but…

This was it. Things had slowed down, but now nothing held Jack back. After all, her destination had been Harran from the start.

Looking over the circumstances now, a trip there might be for the better. Until things could cool down.

Maybe.

"So. Think you can hold off on your own for a while?"

That offer… Jack may be the most unreadable and enigmatic person to him. But never had she forcefully tugged on his leash to do her bidding, not like Rias. Above all, Crane had shown her many times that he didn't want to go back to Harran.

He couldn't stop her. Nor could he stall for time. Or reject the one request he's been given the entire time: be her Lifeline all the way.

"And leave you to do something reckless?" he complained. "Hard pass."

The brunette chuckled. "So you're not sick of me?"

No rebuttal. That didn't mean he wasn't at times.

"Then it's settled."

The sudden 'final verdict' nearly took him by surprise; underneath his scarf, he grew more worried.

"First thing first, the Junction. Can't just up and disappear on them," she uttered. "Then we'll head for Harran."

Crane felt…disheartened.

"Yeah… Harran."

---

It was a straight beeline to the Junction. No stopping for anything, not even for a side job. Time to move on: Jack reached the front entrance while Crane waited at the usual spot, the silicone factory.

How funny that he has accepted this as routine. Not that he entirely liked it. Besides listening to Jack's rambling, he did find the waiting boring.

So he watched from his perch, following Jack's line of sight to one part of the Junction's courtyard. There, the two Rav traders made idle chit-chat before noticing their compadre.

Ender gave both thumbs-ups at her, a signal saying Peri and Ozan returned home safely.

A head popped up behind them, making Jack crack a soft smile. Immediately, the young runner bolted in her direction.

She ran too fast that Jack had to brace her hands up to help stop Siv from tripping over.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

"Whoa. Easy there, princess," Jack nearly went for a spin. "Put on the brakes, there."

"Sorry," Siv quickly apologized and did her best to regain her composure. But the strong emotions couldn't be controlled easily. "Peri. Peri's back! She's alive."

She couldn't believe it. Her eyes were so red that she must have cried a river since Peri returned.

"Yes, she is," Jack assured her again that it wasn't a dream. "And she's back home."

All the weight on Siv's shoulders seemed to have flown off. This must be a time when the young teenager had finally taken a moment to relax.

"Thanks, Jack. I mean it."

"Thank Freakazoid," Jack pointed. "He was the one who found her."

Siv's first reaction was surprise, but quickly, her eyebrows knitted together. "That explains a lot."

Meaning Peri couldn't hold a coherent conversation about Freakazoid with her fellow runners.

"How is she?"

"She's in sickbay. Will's looking over her, but she might not need to stay."

That was good. Moreover, the atmosphere seemed lighter than the first time Jack first came to the Safe Zone. No new red flags raised either.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! I wouldn't be blind if it were a kid!"

Yup. Too soon, she berated herself. At the side of the gate, Carl was talking to one of the gatekeepers, Izzet. From the many times Jack had visited the Junction through the front, she had eventually picked up the names on guard duty.

"What's wrong, Carl?" Siv intervened.

His eyes lit up at the familiar faces, but his worry didn't phase out. "One of the orphans has been missing since lunchtime. The kids said he suddenly got spooked."

Carl looked ashamed on the spot, trying to wrap his brain around how this could have happened. But he didn't stammer.

"His name is Ekrem." That deepened the seriousness on Jack's face. "He's the only kid with one arm."

"C'mon. Kids do dumb shit all the time," a bystander who couldn't help but blabber. Ignorant of the glares towards his insensitivity.

"You learned that from your own childhood experience?"

The guard flinched from the brunette's rebuttal. Her grin suddenly stretched, coming at him as hostile.

What was her problem?

"I mean… They want attention," he tried to reason with her. "He'll turn on his own."

"Of course. Adults don't do dumb shit like ignoring a missing child during a zombie outbreak."

That put him in his place. A grown-ass man stomped for being a child about children's habits. He stepped away from the judging eyes.

"Let's do another sweep before we search outside," Jack reassured Carl.

"Yes, yes," he said with one too many nods and hurried off.

"I'll ask the runners." And Siv bolted off to the east side.

"Up for another game of hide 'n' seek?" Jack tossed the question in a genuine manner as she headed west.

"Already on it."

Crane had already swooshed from one building to the next with eyes on every side of the Junction. The place stretched far, having claimed three enormous warehouses and a few nearby buildings in the first place. Additionally, he glanced at the outside surroundings just in case for that one small stray blob of orange.

He found that child, alone and hiding inside the Junction. Far from any adult. But safe at least.

"I see him," he messaged back, spotting Jack's silhouette not far from the boy. "Around the corner."

She turned around, faster on her heel. And the closer she got, the gradual her running grew.

"Ekrem."

She started off cautiously, and her notion was right. The little kid suddenly perked up. Terrified.

As if his worse nightmares lashed out at him again.

"Ekrem-"

He tried to run, but the Junction's walls stopped him. Where could he go? All he could do was cave down.

Then his one, only fist rose up and came down hard.

The reaction stopped Jack. And when the self-beating kept going on the poor child's noggin, the muffled frustrated wail escaping from his mouth, it forced her hands to reach out.

She jumped in on an already-ignited trigger.

"Stop! Stop!"

She couldn't have done it any other way. The grab on his only arm added more to Ekrem's fear, making him so speechless that he couldn't scream.

Tears fell.

Ekrem looked at her like she was a monster.

Jack stared at him. Confused. Horrified. Scared both of him and for him. What had she done?

"Jack!"

It took a desperate call from Freakazoid and then every fiber in her to finally let go. Ekrem didn't run off. But he glanced at her, confused—why did an adult look at him the way she did?

She dropped to her knees, with anxious, wide eyes.

"Talk to me, Ekrem!"

Enough was enough. She had given him time to himself, but what she had forgotten was the poor boy's view of the world. In his eyes, he had been left all alone. His mother, his sister, the Orphanage and Lina.

He needed much more than just time. Because Jack was worried…he might let out an inner monster.

"...Are you gonna kill me?"

"What-? No!" Jack quickly replied. "Where did you get that idea?"

She got her answer.

"Because you killed Lina."

That did it. A punch she never expected the kid to deliver, or that it'd hurt as much as this. Jack…found herself stunned. Stuck. Suffocating. This time, she couldn't fight back.

For the first time since the outbreak started, the ex-kickboxer seemed defeated.

"...Yes," she finally answered. "...I did."

"...With that secret weapon?" he asked cautiously.

Now Jack was uncomfortable; she sat over to the wall and leaned back as she tried to keep a hold of herself. To have a person talk about that one thing about her, a child no less. It gutted her. Twisted. Then pulled.

The circumstances back then had flown out of Jack's hands when Lina bit her. Trying to explain to Ekrem...

Gradually, Ekrem sat next to her and waited.

"...Lina was… She was sick."

That was an honest start, but Jack couldn't figure out where to go from there. Should she give it to Ekrem straight? Should she still treat him like a child who didn't know better?

There weren't any right answers.

"She became one of those monsters," Ekrem suddenly said. And that took her and Freakazoid by surprise. The small lad's head drooped low, almost unfocused.

"I saw her bitemark."

In other words, he knew how it would end.

Jack sighed, deflated again. "...Yeah. My secret weapon kills infected people."

Ekrem rocked a little back and forth in his seat. One couldn't really follow through after that kind of conversation.

Then his eyebrows knitted tightly. Just a slip of anger. He couldn't stay in his seat any longer.

"Couldn't…Couldn't you have helped her?" he asked. Demanded.

Could she?

Could anyone?

"The grown-ups said there's a cure!" Ekrem snarled. "That the guv-ver-ment," he struggled with the word. "Was making one."

How well did children listen to the gossip in the Junction. Then again, they learned everything by mimicking the people around them. A person's manner, word of mouth, all sorts of things.

So it was easy for him to understand the words, despite how frail they really were.

Any answer could have been said. But that would only push the boy much further away. Make him distrust everyone even more.

"...If I could…I would have helped myself too."

Ekrem's eyes widened. Quickly, he looked for her bite wounds.

Jack helped him out with that, pulling down her arm sleeve. The reveal made Ekrem jump in horror. Then shame and guilt.

The adult right in front of him would die the same way as Lina did.

And Jack accepted that a long time ago.

"The thing about everything around us… You can't always save everyone."

"Jack… No..."

Freakazoid's voice was far too weak. As if he shouldn't have stopped her, but he couldn't help it. He saw that answer as too harsh, even for a seven-year-old boy.

She grimaced. Angrily, disappointedly, but partly acceptingly. This time she took her earpiece out of her ear. She just couldn't…not with him on the line.

"...That's how it is."

Brutal. But she didn't change her mind. Again, in their grim reality, what was the right answer?

She could see the young boy thinking about that too, struggling with it less than a grown adult would.

"Can I ask you a question?" Ekrem asked. "You don't have to answer it if you don't want to."

"Ask away."

"...Does it hurt them?"

"..." She said nothing. Refused it on the spot. There were some things children shouldn't learn. Ekrem, despite being only seven years, could read the heavy air.

Not even Freakazoid could say anything. He stayed silent behind the walls.

"...I wanted to be a hero."

Ekrem's statement first surprised her. Such a whimsical, innocent idea.

"Really?"

Ekrem nodded. For the first time since Jack met him, it looked as if the small spark she noticed back at the Orphanage could have resurfaced.

"What kind of hero?"

He shrugged. "I don't know… A fireman?"

Crane cracked a smile. Funny, he had the same idea as a child too.

Unknown to him but shown to Jack, that little spark, however, could also fizzle out quickly.

"...But I can't-" He reached for his empty sleeve with his free hand. Absently feeling nothing in his grasp, he just realized again that his arm was long gone. Right beside the adult, he curled up even smaller. Out of frustration, out of angst. His missing arm was a constant reminder.

"...I'm scared."

Half an excuse, half a truth.

He still had trouble accepting the fact he only had one arm.

All of his dreams and confidence shattered after he lost that arm. To top it all of, the boy was placed in that special room for weeks. No one to aid him, the adults perhaps thinking time would heal all wounds.

Just left him alone with his thoughts, his sadness, and fear.

Jack levelled herself eye-to-eye with Ekrem.

"Hey."

Ekrem glanced at her smile, which helped him out of his struggle.

Look at her now. Let's put those thoughts away for a second.

"Breathe and repeat after me."

He pondered, partly scared and partly attentive. Even his nod was so timid. The only thing that showed a glimpse of courage came from his green eyes.

Nonetheless, Jack clenched her hand into a fist in the air. While waiting for Ekrem to follow her action.

"1, 2, 3, 4." She counted her fingers.

It took a moment but he did as he was told, just as fast as he could mirroring her. With the only hand he had.

"Breathe in." He heard the inhale and puffed out his cheeks like a hamster. Again, the fingers counted, "1, 2, 3, 4. Breathe out."

He listened to the exhale and let his breath go.

Again. This time, Jack repeated her chant in silence. Again, he followed through until it felt second nature to him. Gradually, all the uncontrollable emotions inside him settled down.

"Better?"

Ekrem started off uncertain. Then, a soft, honest nod.

A start, at least. "Whenever you're scared or angry, stop yourself and do that."

That seemed to help, giving her a clear mind.

Abruptly, a thought came to Ekrem's mind on the spot.

"Do you get scared?"

Jack shrugged and admitted, "Sometimes."

The answer puzzled him even more. "But you're Mad Jack. You never get scared."

All he got was a lighthearted laugh from the ex-kickboxer. She wondered if that was a little trivia he had heard from the adults.

"Can I show you something?"

Ekrem looked weary at first. Then puzzled when she offered an open palm to him.

Crane watched the orange skeletons interact, waiting for the answer. But he could only guess from their mannerisms—now the blabbermouth decided to stay quiet of all things.

The young boy gradually took it with his only hand. Jack's head hung low as she brought it to the side of it, under her hair.

Ekrem recoiled back. Not out of disgust or anything. But pure shock as he glanced at her with wide eyes.

What did she show to him? Crane would never know.

The young kid started off cautiously again. "...Does it hurt?"

"Used to," she explained with some hesitation. "Get these awful headaches every now and then."

One deep, soft inhale; a moment to work out a speech for a child. Ekrem wasn't the only one listening to her.

"I know what it's like to feel scared." She tapped a finger on her knee but still wore her wry smile. "Spent some of my years feeling that way…"

Crane had stayed quiet for most of the conversation, and only into Jack's little story, had he realized something. Although he kept his own secrets as tightly as possible from Jack, it was the same the other way around for her. Never once did she talk, as in really talk.

It was always putting on a show for herself, always gesturing the topic away from the grim stuff behind her closet door. A façade, a mask, just as he wore one in Harran. That stubbornness might be a coverup to hide that she hadn't let go of the past…

There could be as many reasons as he had for zipping his lips. But the feeling of being scared slithered uncomfortably out of all of them when he thought down his list of excuses. Must be the same for Jack.

That was one of a few things he felt relatable about this strange woman.

"...Taking the first step is hard. But it helps to know that you're not doing it alone."

That relaxed the boy, who had noticed something about the woman in red for once.

Her smile hadn't been the same wide grin, but neither was it shallow. The Wild Dog wasn't present, but what Jack expressed wasn't for show.

Then the Wild Dog gloated, bringing back her usual chime.

"Take it from me. I work better as the underdog."

Maybe a deliberate change in the topic, Crane thought. For the better.

"…We could really use heroes right about now," she then pointed out nonchalantly—Crane couldn't agree more. Realistically, that was a far-away wish.

A new orange glow appeared in his twisted radar. It awkwardly shifted around the corner, as if peeking over.

"Hey. You've got company."

Well, it wasn't that hard to spot her. Jumped behind the corner the moment Jack looked to that direction.

She didn't mean to eavesdrop. She just…happened to walk this way. But Siv kept quiet and stepped out of the shadows.

The brunette pretended not to notice but walked over to her, holding Ekrem by his only hand.

How much had she listened?

"So. Uh. You found him."

"A little game of hide n' seek. Ekrem here found himself a good hiding spot."

Siv hunched her eyebrows, but she didn't pry for answers, especially with the kid's face faintly brightening up for some reason.

"Hey, Ekrem," she started off friendly. However, Ekrem's eyes stuck to the ground, his only hand tighter on Jack's. He stirred up, thanks to a pat on the head from the brunette.

Siv didn't take offense to it. Just extremely happy he was ok.

"I got something for ya."

Ekrem's eyes widened as Siv brought up a toy to the light. Jack recognized it—the Master Sword he had, and only then now had she realized he hadn't carried it with him. He joyfully took it and held it high up like a brave knight.

A happy child made everything around look less dreary.

Then Siv's expression changed.

"Is everything ok?" she cautiously asked. "Anyone giving you a hard time?"

Bad move. The boy shied away, doing every book to make himself invisible behind Jack. From his mannerisms, he had no ill feeling but something did leave a mark on him.

Or tried to open it up again.

Siv thought she'd screwed up. Luckily, Jack's presence helped him be rooted. She gestured for him to go ahead first with a light push to his back, allowing the two grown-ups to talk privately. He did stop, puzzled but strolled onwards.

"What have you heard?"

Siv rubbed her arm sheepishly. "The kids were playing some game. Cops and robbers... But with zombies."

Through the comms, Crane cursed out, "Shit…". Yeah, something that looked harmless wouldn't be to another person. He could only imagine the blowout.

"One of them kept whacking that sword at me," Siv continued, annoyed for certain. "I saw Ekrem's name on it."

Jack heaved a heavy sigh. Although the orphans were safe and sound, their situation was still the same: trapped in the quarantine zone like everyone else.

Nothing has changed.

"You said it'll take time and patience," Siv started, a throwback to what Jack had said before. "Do you believe that?"

Jack began to fidget, telling her she partly did. "Lad's lost all his trust and self-esteem… We have to keep him busy. Stop ruminating on the bad stuff. Kids thrive when there's structure and rules."

"Think that'll be enough?"

"Yes and no." The brunette composed herself. If Siv had asked that outside the quarantine zone, she'd have stuck to a yes. "...He might have to relearn a lot of things without his arm."

Back and forth, Siv glanced at the kid, who was in his own little bubble now. He jabbed his sword forward, making up moves of what he thought swordsmen would do. Anyone could tell he had some struggle with only one arm but he was too engrossed in his own imagination.

"...Couldn't we get a prosthetic for him?" It came across as an innocent question from Siv. "Like Mahir has with his leg?"

It wasn't so much that nobody thought about it. It was more the fact that nobody took the time to do so with their circumstances until now. Not a bad suggestion to Crane.

"Know a place where we can find a child-sized one?" Jack's question also came across as faultless, prompting Siv to think. It wouldn't be that easy.

"Don't know about finding one. But maybe Noam can make it." Jack didn't think an answer would come to them right away. Or Siv's face lit up with optimism so quickly. "If anyone can do it, he can."

"Isn't he only a mechanic?"

"Doesn't hurt to ask!" she groaned with the mannerisms that said she had faced prejudice over ideas like that one suggestion. Siv ran after the young boy, dropping down to his level with a smile. "Wanna meet someone cool?"

"She's right, you know."

Jack left the two with their sweet talk, putting a finger to her earpiece to cut out the outside noise.

"Kid needs a confidence boost with all this shit happening around him."

"You're not wrong either." Yet her tone wasn't as agreeable as his was—more cautious and a little pessimistic.

"Then what do you have to lose?" he pried.

Odd for Freakazoid to be on board that she wondered if Siv's aspiration rubbed on him. Especially with how often he had been a stiff. But turning her attention back to the two kids finishing their talk and waiting for her, she followed after them back into the warehouses.

Out of sight for Crane. Back to listening over the comms, and waiting until Jack was done with her business.

Which was honestly boring on paper. The waiting lasted five seconds before he decided to move his feet—he wasn't the type of guy to stay in one place, after all.

The thing was…what could he do? He took to 'strolling' along the verandas and trailing his eyes over his surroundings.

"Hey, Noam!" he listened to the teenager burst loudly after the swing of a door. "Do you think you can make a prosthetic arm?"

"A what?" came a gruff voice from across the room, probably a garage from the sound of metal-hit-metal.

Siv swore out the most experienced mechanic in the entire Safe Zone with earnest hope. Noam was the immediate to-go guy. After all, he made the ascenders, the complex mechanics for the traps and many other gadgets. Right into the garage, she led Jack and the timid Ekrem to a solidly-built man in his forties, currently working on a van before he tore off his safety goggles.

"I repair cars for a living! I don't know a thing about making limbs," he gruffed.

Crane didn't need to be in the same space to know everyone was disheartened on the spot. A harmless proposal rejected. Even a sentient freak could feel that but he was used to it.

He excluded Jack, given her earlier expectation that things wouldn't be easy to begin with.

"You said you were into mechanical engineering, old man!"

"When I was in my prime. This is a completely different specialty." Noam explained.

"But you made the ascenders. Isn't making an arm like that?"

"You're holding too much faith in me, girl. Only thing I had to go on was you lot rambling about some video game."

"'Video game'?" Jack repeated, puzzled by the sudden detour in the conversation.

"Uh…some of the runners played a lot of survival games."

"You're better off finding an expert on this," Noam pressed on. "Maybe finding a working prosthetic elsewhere."

Maybe, Crane thought. But where could they find someone like that?

"How about a prototype?" Jack suggested, however. "Just for the time being."

"Why are you two deadset on one? You both look fine."

A pause that gradually became awkward to the other party.

"This is Ekrem," Jack introduced. The silence hung, surely Noam taking note of the obvious elephant in the room. "Say hello to Mr. Noam."

Nothing. Certainly, the kid kept quiet. Huddled up to her rather than making eye contact with a stranger.

He really needed some miracle. Any sort.

With a heavy sigh, Noam defeatedly uttered, "...I'll see what I can do."

"Yes!" Siv hissed on the sideline.

"I can't promise anything. Gonna need parts for this to work."

"Give me the list," Crane immediately offered. "I can find them for him."

"My partner will happily oblige to the task," Jack vouched.

"Hmph. I'll hold them to it." A drawer opened and the sound of bolts and knick-knacks rattled about until the mechanic found what he was looking for. "Shalom."

For a rough-and-tough man, he now came across as soft and calm as possible—without a doubt, greeting Ekrem with the utmost patience. Not a peep out of the boy but it didn't sound like he wanted anything from Noam.

"I'm gonna need to measure your arm, young man. That ok?"

Another pause; Ekrem timidly gazed at Jack for approval. Which she did, saying "Go on."

Although it all grew quiet, Crane took comfort in the fact that Ekrem took the first step. He wasn't alone, like Jack said.

Perhaps this could be the start of a better future for him. Wishful thinking as Crane glanced about at the ruined, dying city but for the little things…

They could make a difference.

Something caught Crane's eye in the far distance. It didn't move like a bolting infected or a human fleeing from a mob. Too methodical, following the roads in angled paths.

It looked like a vehicle. Good condition. Driving at a steady speed.

Another appeared with it at the turn of a corner. Slowly, with the number increasing, something swelled in the pit of his stomach.

"Jack," he called, vaulting forward for a better look. "There's trucks coming our way…"

Then he saw the decal.

"Fuck. It's GRE."

---

Jack's grin loosened at the news.

She didn't like it. What was GRE doing on this fine day?

But she couldn't react brashly. Not in front of Siv, Ekrem and Noam. Normal civilians shouldn't be alarmed and take arms. With her movements casual and careful, she decided to play it safe with her words.

Because she knew Siv would decide something daft.

"Think it'll be problematic?" she asked, but not directed to the mechanic.

"Very."

"First time for everything," Noam answered, none the wiser.

"How long?" she asked.

"Well. If all goes well, maybe day or two," he proposed.

While Freazkoid replied, "Four minutes. I can stall them."

Four minutes. Enough time to inform Mahir and the guards.

"Siv. Can you take Ekrem back to Carl?" Despite Jack's best effort to stay in character, Siv grew worried. The surprising request came from left field as the ex-kickboxer gently passed the young boy over to her. "Noam, you should get your workers together."

"Is something wrong?" Siv caught on.

"Stay inside and don't do anything rash."

"Did that Freakazoid guy say something?"

"Freakazoid?"

"Stay!" Jack's final word to the teenager, and she bolted out of the garage. Sprinting full throttle as she searched for Mahir.

Four minutes; Crane didn't delay on his word. He launched himself to the direction of the GRE trucks, counting more as he jumped up to the top of a fire escape.

It was a whole convey, congoing down the streets. Anyone would have thought GRE brought the army. Maybe finally, help was coming.

But Crane could see exactly that wouldn't be the case.

He lifted up his left arm and pointed. He didn't have a rifle, but he had the next best thing.

Tat tat tat!

A wheel burst with a loud BANG and a jeep swayed to an abrupt stop. That slowed the other vehicles down to a crawl—first having to deal with the spooked infected.

That should give the Junction enough time.

"Mahir!" he heard Jack utter. "GRE's heading to the Junction!"

A pause, but the seasoned military man didn't question her. Instead, he barked, "You heard her! Toygar, radio the front."

All seemed to be going in order. Except the convey itself. Kyle jerked back with surprise that, after a minute or two, the vehicles had driven off. They didn't abandon the car or offer a drive; the passengers reluctantly went to work on the busted wheel.

"Shit. They're still going," he hissed.

"What do you mean they're not picking up?" Then suddenly, "Jack?", implying that Jack quickly left the command room.

Another problem Crane didn't like. He wasn't there, but it couldn't be good.

Another fire at a wheel wouldn't matter if GRE didn't care about stopping for one of their own. Crane tailed after the convey, approaching back to the Junction.

"Hey!"

Jack burst out of the warehouses, hurrying over to the main gates and to the person from before, Izzet.

"What's going on? We got company coming our way-!"

She halted at the sight of one man she definitely didn't think she'd meet, spotting the stiff mannerisms Izzet carried in his posture. His worried eyes did steer back to the brunette and then to the expert trapper.

Jack could already figure out the conversation between them and it was one Izzet didn't agree with. The news that something was on its way to the Safe Zone had no effort on Quasim.

He simply ignored her.

"I don't know," Izzet admitted, almost trying to reason with him. "People've been talking about GRE being shady."

"They've been shady since the Harran Virus Outbreak," Jack intervened. "Been mates with the prisoners on the sidelines."

Izzet and the other men exchanged glances at each other. Even for a moment, that sort of news came as a surprise to Quasim but he shrugged it off.

"That's not our concern." She grimaced, baffled to hear Quasim continued on with a straight face. "Getting the sick the help they need is important."

"Help? Do you know what they've been doing to infected survivors?!"

"And what would you do?" Quasim snapped, as if hoping Jack could be in agreement. "This has been going for months."

She understood that—this city's outbreak was a second time for her. But to the trapper, the duration of her survival was irrelevant.

He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself down.

"This is the best option we've got."

"Best for everyone, or for you?" she retorted back.

"You're in no position to question us either." He lashed out, grabbing on her arm just as Jack instinctively tried to parry that same arm free, but to no avail.

Immediately, he turned his attention to that arm. Before she could do anything, realizing where this was going, Quasim quickly pulled down her sleeve.

Exposing her bite wounds for everyone to see.

"I know you haven't taken a dose of Antizin since you got here. Do you think nobody would know?"

Jack hardened her gaze—no, she didn't. If Siv made the connection herself, anyone else at the Junction would have done so too. The consequences that would happen after that? Jack had already been prepared.

What she never anticipated was for Quasim to take things into his own hands.

The trapper let her go, passing her over to her captors to hold the professional fighter down. Still quiet and unproblematic. The way he wanted.

"Don't take this personal," he glowered at the ex-kickboxer, letting her go. "You need help too."

Jack grounded her teeth, almost ready to let the chain off, but she put all her willpower into not suckerpunching him. Now it was personal. Quasim made it personal.

That last sentence. It was the last thing she wanted to hear from anyone.

"You're out of your bloody mind - argh!" Jack didn't see it coming. She found herself being shoved down from behind and retaliated with futile effort. The man responsible for the sneak attack got a black eye, prompting two more buddies to force her to the ground.

"We got her!" one of them, reeling back from a broken nose, hollered at his radio comms, pulling from his belt.

"Jack!" Freakazoid pointlessly cried over the comms.

"Hold it! Hold it!" someone yelled. Young, inexperienced, but with a Texan voice?

What was happening? If Jack didn't know better, the group that jumped on her had nothing to do with everyone else—the people around them staggered back out of shock. Quasim, the first culprit Jack immediately thought of, stared at the assault with wide eyes.

He didn't expect this to happen. But these were some of his trapper men, weren't they?

Jack peered up at her assailant and spotted the distinctive facial features under his headwear. Tanned, furrowed eyebrows, sharp nose. American.

A bunch of rats had walked right into the base without anyone knowing, under the pretense of being survivors.

"What's going on?" "Who are they?" "Americans?" The Junction residents muttered out the questions loud, and in fear while the guards stood on the defense, demanding the intruders to stop whatever they were doing. When the other group refused, demanding them to put down their weapons instead, it became a stalemate.

"Roger that," the man on the radio answered to whoever was on the other side. "They're on their way."

Acknowledging that, one of the Americans stepped forward. "Quasim, right?"

Jack's eyes widened as seething anger filled her up—her mind raced, demanding. She knew that bloke didn't like her one bit, but she didn't think he would go that far. But Quasim's confusion mockingly assured her that he was in the dark just as she was. He jerked back, initially defensive, but gradually waited for the negotiations.

What choice did the Junction have? They had armed and dangerous men inside the base.

"Let's settle down. Nobody's hurting anyone," the American man started, hopeful that the trapper would see eye to eye. "We're just here to help you guys."

"...You're GRE," Quasim made the connection.

Good, the GRE mole thought to himself. They could finish their assignment with ease.

"You wanna do right by these people," he continued. "Open the gates."

"Quasim," Jack growled. Don't.

On the spot, he was torn. He would have rejected the proposal. But the longer he thought, weighing the outcomes, the more his hesitation lightened. Jack could follow his line of thinking—they had two choices: open the gates or rebel against the intruders.

If they'd ignore the first choice, they might lose out on more than just the base—they could let the opportunity slip out of their fingers if they were to turn away now. It had been the intention all along before the GRE men decided to jump onto Jack. Ironically, she would have picked it as well. If it meant keeping the residents safe. Giving her a few minutes to come up with a plan.

Reading right from Quasim's face, she knew. When they would open those gates, it would be for the sick people, for Siv and for Jack.

And the bastard still believed that was the best option!

With a clear conscience, Quasim gave out the order to the gatekeepers in a heavy voice.

"Do it."

People glanced at him, appalled. People who trusted him. But nobody could interfere with the trapper goons giving a silent warning. Lives were on the line, and they were against a wall. Out of the opposing team, only two residents were compelled to do as they were told.

"What's going on here?!"

It didn't take long for the commotion to reach ears indoors. Mahir hurried out to see the madness around him—hindered back by his prosthetic leg. One of Quasim's men, however, blocked his way.

"Quasim! What are you doing?!" he demanded.

"What you could never do."

The thought of infected scrambling into the base snaked into everyone's minds as they helplessly watched the gates grate loudly. But instead of the screaming damned rushing inside, vehicles skidded across the tar to a stop—Jeeps, trucks, and armored Humvees that had the decal read GRE.

At first, a majority felt hopeful. Then, thick concern at the sight of troops marching out of their vehicles and forming a large circle around the gates. Not an immediate word that the citizens could finally leave the quarantine zone.

From the large group, a handful strolled into the Junction, led by a stiff American with a goatee. The kind of leader that kept his men in check with that formidable, stuck-up stance of his.

Out of those new faces, Jack recognized an old one.

"Why hello again, mate." She flashed her award-winning, mocking smile at the GRE commander from the mall.

Taylor glared icily at the grinning brunette. He hadn't forgotten and forgiven the truffles Mad Jack had given him as of late. But diligence overrode his need to let out his anger and trailed onwards.

Quasim took the lead, so easily, as if he were the one in charge. He was particularly glowing with content to see the agents walk in with the help they needed.

"You don't know how much we appreciate this."

The man leading the small army didn't seem to listen.

"We can help you gather the sick before nightfall," Quasim continued, oblivious. "There's also the children. It's not part of the plan, but they need to go somewhere safe."

"Where's Umit Solak?"

Quasim's smile dampened down, looking confused. That old politician git?

"Sure, my men can find him. But why him…?"

The reply didn't move the man in charge. In fact, his stern gaze wavered. Not at Quasim, or the people in the courtyard. But to one woman in the flashing, red jacket. Baring her teeth out as she tried to shake her captors off her.

His eyes darted up and down her body, indifferent. Jack could see that he didn't recognize her just as an old athlete.

After all, their mark was now served on a silver palate.

"Good. Makes our work easy."

Easy? Quasim was taken aback. What was this? And why so much interest in an ex-athlete?

The cold-stone GRE lead strolled closer to the red-jacketed woman. "...I get the archaeologist. But you… You don't look the part."

"And what part do I look like?" Jack hissed back. "Don't leave me hanging."

"...Another damn loudmouth," he gruffed.

Then he spotted Jack's exposed arm.

"If I had my way, I'd throw you in with all the infected people," the bloke maintained his composure. Just like that, the arrogant prick stood back up and walked over her. Literally over her struggling body.

"Pick her up."

From the pair of trappers to a pair of jarheads, Jack felt herself topple around, hands forced behind her back once again, and feet planted firmly.

On cue, another important figure stepped out of the passenger's seat of a car. A woman dressed like someone who begrudgingly left her desk back home and was thrown into the Scanderoon heat.

"We've secured the perimeter, Fischer."

The mention of the name froze Crane. Shocked. Angry. Binding together once he picked her among the crowd. That lean face and natural-red angled bob haircut, strained with a few grey streaks.

As much as he thought he'd never see her again—or any of the higher-ups—that he had believed hearing her voice back in the mall would be the last time, fate seemed to disagree with him.

Evelyn Fischer.

His handler, his ex-employer. The damn woman who spoke to him over the comms during his time in Harran.

"Why the hell is she here?" he mumbled. She didn't do fieldwork.

It was clear Fischer was just an overseer. As she examined everything around her, she sauntered over to Jack. Holding a thick folder in her hand.

"You're a very difficult woman, Miss Brecken," she said, as a matter of fact.

"Really?" She bore her pearly whites behind a maddening smile. "I must be doing something right."

The only response was the woman's right hand, the bloke with the goatee. He huffed to clearly show he disliked Jack's attitude. Fischer, the boss lady of the entire operation, stayed unexpressive. A cut from all the rest that she was there only for business.

"We're in need of your assistance."

"Well, why don't you get in line?" Jack snapped, "I have other clients waiting."

A glimpse creased so subtly. Jack guessed five minutes before her impatience would cave in.

"There are two things I know about you."

"Oh?" Jack hummed. This will be entertaining.

"You're trouble."

Out came a soft, proud chuckle. What's new about that?

"And you're not right in the head."

Oh-oh! Saying that to Mad Jack-

"Miss Brecken. Are you still taking your prescription?"

...What a sinister question to sneak around the defenses. An effective one. Deliberately soft that no one in the crowd would hear but coy enough to reach Jack's ears up close.

This woman had the gall to go there.

Jack's wide grin drooped slowly across her face. A deadly unsmiling gaze behind the shades stared back at her opponent.

Did she bribe someone for those records? It wouldn't be unbelievable that someone high up in GRE had done a lot of shady things. All to secure her goals, regardless of the consequences. With hands and that nice-looking set of clothes of hers clean of any stain.

Alright. Gloves were off. Jack's own hands were the bloodiest compared to her opponent's.

"...What do you want?"

Fischer, however, showed no sign of backing down, posh and poised in composure. She got her attention, however.

"Are you Mahir?"

Mahir stiffened up on the spot when the redhead turned to him—there wasn't a soldier that didn't know about GRE. Foremost, he could tell the kind of glance the woman gave: expectation out of him following through. For the sake of his country.

"This base is now under GRE's protection," she sold a discomforting, unparalleled proposal to him. "We'd appreciate your cooperation."

The goatee man signaled the circle of GRE men into the base. Taking position, setting up shop deeper into the courtyard. The Junction was gripped in GRE's clutches.

Nobody spoke out. Not even Mahir when he noticed a few mercenaries circling him. His leadership was removed temporarily for the time being. Now he was a normal civilian in GRE's eyes.

"Hey!"

Out of the jittery crowd, Quasim sprinted but stopped halfway once the woman turned her attention to him. He didn't falter.

"We had a deal!"

The thought had slipped out of Fischer's mind. Or that it wasn't relevant.

"Of course. We can take the infected and orphans to a medical facility."

The expert trapper jerked back, unable to follow this train of thought. And it wasn't just him. For some odd reason, Taylor also reacted. His face appalled.

"Ma'am, that's not what we-"

"Agent Taylor, I remind you that whatever you say is under strict confidentiality," his superior warned. "Not a single… word."

Agent Taylor's face said it all—he didn't agree. But he couldn't oppose. So he solemnly stepped back.

"The kids aren't the sick ones," Quasim stated loudly. "They should be outside the quarantine zone!"

"Sir. I understand your concern. But we have a protocol to follow through," Fischer explained, firm and stern. Skipped over the unimportant steps that Quasim wanted to address first. "I assure you they will be escorted out in due time."

Her tone didn't come across as generous or virtuous, only methodical and uncaring.

Quasim fell silent and let the red-haired woman amble deeper into the courtyard with her men.

"Anyone objects, detain them," Crane heard the quiet whisper between Fischer and her second-in-command. Always remorseless by the books.

No. He shouldn't let her get that chance-

"Unhand me!"

He barely took two steps forward before someone cried out. The Day Hunter searched for the source, just as everyone else in the courtyard did.

Like a bunch of apes dragging a poor, old animal out into the open, the grunts pulled the familiar old man in the sunhat—the very man GRE had been looking for. Umit then took to walking ahead, showing he complied. Fists clutched tight with a gaze that could drill right through the indifferent Americans.

When he saw Fischer, his face twisted with contempt.

"All this for that insidious tomb," the old man bellowed with a strain in his voice that reflected his age, but it was also with a tone a statesman would use on a podium. "Is this how far you people will take?"

"We apologize for the treatment, Umit." So she says. "But it is imperative that you continue working with us."

"What more do you want? The only thing you can find is broken pottery!"

"That is for us to decide."

Her second in command passed a nod to Taylor, expecting him to take the old man. Quietly, he did so. And for a tough and rough mercenary, he offered a gentle hand to Umit.

Maybe it was manners when dealing with senior citizens. Maybe it was the earlier friction Taylor had. He didn't force the archaeologist into a car.

But Umit wouldn't accept the good gesture. Only a disapproved glare at him; at GRE as a whole before he was led away.

"Freakazoid," high up in the canopies, Crane turned his attention to Jack, seeing her use the moment in slipping a whisper through the comms. But a plan didn't come his way. "I can try to make an opening. But I'm gonna need a helping hand too."

"Jack-"

Too late—he watched the brunette put her earpiece away again, deep into a pocket. A gaze around to make sure no one saw the swipe.

If GRE were to find out about Freakazoid, it could spell more disaster for the Junction and Jack. High up from the silicone factory, he could only watch Jack be pulled aside like a criminal to a small office building inside the Junction. Ideally, as a private room so that they would talk alone.

Really amusing to Jack. So fast that they have settled in and taken the place as theirs.

The heavy-duty thugs shuffled her into a place of their own choosing: a small conference room on the ground floor. They particularly forced her down to one side of a table while Fischer took a chair on the other side.

Jack had seen this in shows. In real life too. Right down to one musclebrain handcuffing her to the table leg for good measure.

"We're not enemies," Jack repeated what Fischer said earlier and lifted up her cuffed hand with a hard tug. "Says a whole different story, mate."

"We both know that you're too good at what you do. I don't need to talk about your past history." Fischer beat around the bush with her eyes saying 'right?' to the poker-faced woman. Time was against them, so this conversation should go on smoothly.

Jack wouldn't oblige.

"Do you remember this man?"

Out of the folder was one photo. The bloody, familiar smug mugshot of Vlachos. A face Jack knew all too well.

"I don't know." Jack slouched back in her seat, uninterested. "I've worked with a lot of clients before… Gotta jog my memory."

"That stunt isn't going to work, Brecken," Fischer's voice almost rose. Almost.

"You tell me. You've read my medical report."

Fischer grimaced at her own little verbal mistake. She didn't yield, however—evident to Jack that she had enough ammunition to make the brunette change her tune. But that was unlikely.

After all, GRE wasn't here for Mad Jack personally. Not even an autograph.

Why else did she put her earpiece away? The first of two reasons, of course. She was confident the fabrics would dull out any more talk from her end.

Some things weren't meant for Freakazoid to listen… Things she was still burying.

Fischer cautiously waited, but her gaze stayed plastered on Jack. "I heard you've been going around as a Retrieval Specialist."

"Ahhh." Now she saw the bigger picture. "...And what does this have to do with him?"

Finally, it seemed like Fischer would get to the meat of the topic. Her shoulders were slightly deflated as she tapped the table with a finger several times. If anything, she had a gamble right before her.

"He's a dangerous man," she stated a pointless state-of-fact. "Earlier into the Scanderoon Outbreak, we offered relief aid to the civilians."

"Out of the courtesy of your heart or to save face?" Jack cut her. "Everyone knows you're behind this virus."

"I don't blame you," Fischer continued with a light nod and a moment of defeat. "We… We shouldn't have let this get this far."

Jack remained unconvinced. Frigid cold. "...You haven't answered my question," she pressed.

Fischer regained her composure. "Like I said, we offered relief aid. Even for prisoners."

"Terrible move there."

"Regardless of their histories, they're still civilians. They deserve a second chance, wouldn't you agree?" She leaned forward, chin on hands. "You understand that better than anyone."

She did, but Jack stayed quiet.

"…That said, they took our goodwill by stealing valuable medications from us."

"Hm. Quite the predicament," the ex-kickboxer hummed, detached from Fischer's situation.

"That is why we need all the help we can get. Desperate times call for desperate measures."

"That it does… Too bad that cheap lie isn't going to fly."

Fischer blinked. Then she glared, hesitant at Jack's claim.

"You know… I heard a rumor a while back. A colonel stole an important document from GRE and ran to Harran. Right under their noses."

Fischer shrunk back in her seat. She had known this would happen, and still, she took the gamble. Jack, however, had already broken away from her façade.

For a moment, the GRE lead found herself talking to another person—not Mad Jack. The real person she read in the reports sat across from her.

"Baffles me why a humanitarian group shows any interest in someone like Savvas Vlachos…" Jack started. "He moved money for the biggest names out there. Warlords, drug cartels, corrupted politicians, colonels … I wonder if your bloody name is on that list too."

Fischer flinched.

"Which was it? You asked Vlachos to help you out? Or did he convince you first?"

The lips curled. But the boss tried to keep her composure as hard as she could.

"Those are wild accusations," she began. "...We've made a mistake-"

"Developing a bioweapon must be nothing compared to everything else on your assessment record."

Fischer's temper sparked. "We screwed up," she hissed. "We're doing everything to make up for it."

"Hmph," Jack chuckled and drew out her hand. "I beg to differ."

Clink.

Fischer's gray eyes widened at the sight of a small, empty vial. Her hands rolled into fists and retracted back to her from the vile thing. This time she couldn't refute it. Jack had positioned the glass vessel to show the partly-scratched GRE label to everyone.

Those same eyes shot back up to the brunette with one definite question.

How did she find out?

Jackpot.

With her hand given in the proverbial poker game, Jack waited for the next futile move. Seconds ticked by so she prompted another poke at the boss lady's vulnerability.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," she repeated what Fischer said.

"...Things got out of hand-"

"Ha!" The laugh was bewilderedly loud, crackling like a hyena, before ending with a deep, satisfied sigh. "Your superiors must be bloody mental to buy that excuse from you…

You let the world's biggest financial mastermind run your little experiments on this blasted virus."

Fischer's shoulders tensed up. A fatal mistake she didn't plan… The higher-ups' patience had been tested far too many times that now any more screwups, and it would be her head.

All because of that fool, she thought bitterly.

"I don't care why. But you blokes made a grave mistake if you think I'm going after Vlachos for you," Jack pointed out, which caused her opponent to raise her eyebrows. But Jack dismissed the facial cue, her anger softly seeping out.

Boss lady had no idea how deep she put herself in allying with that man.

"He's not what we're after."

"Really? Then who?" Jack barked through gritted teeth.

"I need you to find Kyle Crane."

Jack blinked. Slowly digesting what she had heard…

"...I'm sorry. Who now?"

The bossy woman tossed the very same folder she held right onto the table. Its weight slapped the surface with quite a loud sound.

Jack didn't take it right away. But it didn't mean she wasn't curious enough to read it. Right there and then on the label…why that name?

Kyle Crane.

Fischer opened the folder for her. Among the documents, Jack unknowingly brought a photo closer, sliding it across the table by the tips of her fingertips. A face she had never seen before but it drew her to it…

The face of a Caucasian man in his early 30s. Short dark brown hair in a buzz cut with a stubble. Muscular build that could rival men she's fought before. Most notably, dark brown eyes staring back at her.

Strangely recognizable.

"We sent this man to retrieve those stolen documents months ago."

"...He works for you?"

"He used to," Fischer spat—addressing they had long since cut ties with him. Or maybe the other way around. "But circumstances changed... He went rogue on us. Last heard working with a group called the Tower in Harran."

Jack lifted her head too fast at the sheer mention of that location.

The first time she had heard the man's name, she didn't think much. Simply one of several random names like any unlucky bloke who got stuck in their dire situation…

…Did anyone at the Tower know this man used to work for GRE?

"You have family." That stirred Jack out of her rut. "A cousin named Harris Brecken."

Jack's hazel eyes went wide as dinner plates. As angry as a Rottweiler.

"It'd be in your best interest to help us find our operator," Fischer insisted coolly, fully confident that the ex-kickboxer would now listen.

Jack did, all right.

Her growing worry got the better of her. The feeling of helplessness was agonizing and in times like these, she would do her breathing exercise to stay calm and in control. Her fists, however, shook…

Harris. What is happening in Harran?

---

Crane clenched his jaw at the men down below, two minutes after Jack was hauled away. If he didn't know any better, GRE seemed to have multiplied the last time he worked for them.

He pondered, pacing. What could he do as a helping hand for Jack? An infected couldn't waltz its way in without being shot.

"Hey. Freakazoid, right? You hear me?"

The voice on the comms surprised Crane. And he had thought the girl would never talk to him after their encounter.

"Hello?" he began wearily, softly, so he wouldn't scare Siv off again. Then a cough to clear his throat.

"What are you doing?! GRE's taken the Junction and Jack's in serious trouble!"

"I saw," Crane answered. "...I can't go in without spooking the whole place."

"Aren't you worried-" Siv stopped herself first, "At a time like this, you should be creating havoc!"

Saying that to a monster really didn't help his case.

"Ok. Do you see the two silos behind the Junction?"

He did see the two giant industrial silos. Stuck out like two sore thumbs.

"You can sneak in at the back. The guards are too distracted by everything happening upfront."

"The back - wait, hold on! You can't be serious!" Kyle uttered. Sneaking an infected into a Safe Zone?!

"I am! GRE isn't here to play patty cakes with us."

"I know that," Crane told her. "That's why you need to stay low-"

"It's not gonna matter. They're dragging the sick out now!" Siv exclaimed, the news dumbfounding him. GRE was already doing that? "You get in asap and help Jack."

"You couldn't stop shaking when you saw me!" he barked.

"I'm over that!" she deflected, but he could tell that was a lie. "I told Orhan to turn off the UV lights at the back." Like that was the biggest problem here! "Hurry!"

"Hey! Hey!" he barked. But only silence answered. "Shit…! Not this again."

Jack did say he had to give a helping hand. And not with that girl's help! This wouldn't go well, and worse: if he didn't go in now, she could get herself killed.

He quickly noticed the large silos. Unburdened by the sun, Crane swung his way closer to them and then to a red-brick building next door.

The back was quiet: less orange skeletons patrolling on the higher grounds of the Junction. Cargo containers had covered up every little nook that a scrawny infected couldn't slip in. Amidst them, extra defenses had been put up that not even the bravest Volatile would dare intrude.

"-Siv wouldn't put this place in danger."

"She asked you to let a total stranger in."

Two young men, illuminated in blurry x-ray orange, causally exited out onto the open second floor of a smaller warehouse. Free of worries with the Junction's protective perimeter below them.

"You'd think she'd relax after Peri came back." One of them spun around in a circle.

"Everyone's been on edge lately. You see anyone?"

A sigh and a roll of the eyes were all he got from his friend.

All too bothered to notice someone take a huge leap forward. Crane cared less that the UV lights stayed on. He was against the clock, just as his old self had thrown himself into the thick of it with Rais' men.

Only thing he hoped for was that nobody would try to shoot him.

"Mahir's gonna kill us. We could accidentally let a freak in-"

Clunk!

The metal floor shook under their feet. Immediately, they glanced at the beast on the other side of a wire fence. On the same level as they were, nearly fifteen feet high.

Crane could feel the tension shift drastically. Nobody wanted a day when an infected climbed their way into a Safe Zone. Adding more to his growing guilt was seeing a familiar face look at him with horror.

He recognized the runner: Orhan.

"I-Infect-!" Orhan's friend could barely roll the word off his tongue out of sheer terror.

"Yeah, yeah. Infected. Get it out of your system so we can move on," the Day Hunter groaned with a gesture of his claw to hurry up.

"It talks?! What the fuck!"

Just hurry up. Every second counted, the longer the two young men stayed staggered. It didn't help that Orhan had to hold himself on the railings.

"Y-You… You're from before!"

"I'm not your enemy." That didn't help, whether Crane tried or not. He climbed over the first protective hurdle and ignored the second line of defense—UV rays felt so light to him at this point. But his intrusion into the Junction all the more horrified the two runners.

The other man tumbled back on his bottom and scrambled away. What baffled them more was how straightforwardly the beast continued in that hoarse voice.

"GRE has this base under their control."

"What?" Orhan's friend yelped, wrapping his brain around the insanity before him. Not at the grim news about GRE.

"They're going around looking for infected people. And they're not here to be charitable."

"Are you listening to this, Orhan?!"

But Orhan digested everything he heard, his gaze wavering down to the floor and eyebrows knitted.

"Siv's infected." Dread crept over him.

The monster nodded. Shocking the runner but alerted all the same.

On the spot, Orhan gathered up his courage and prepared his weapon for a fight. But not before he turned back to the strange Hunter behind them. A moment of hesitation showed that he still hadn't gotten over that night's encounter.

"You coming?" he asked.

A part in Crane had stopped him from rushing into the base. But to see someone else on board for the cause gradually chased away his anxiety.

"Are you insane?!" Orhan's friend shouted.

He might be. But so was Crane going through with the plan.

The monster took off first in a terrifying bolt, instinct driving Crane forward, just as he always had in the past. Jack was in trouble. The whole Junction was in danger.

He practically outran Orhan, despite both of them 'walking' fast. Behind him, Orhan's pal made a last-minute decision to tag along, blabbering about how everything had gone to hell. There were the expected reactions—a resident in the corridor would glance over his shoulder, uncertain. Some had a peek and gasped, jumping away like sheep.

But Crane didn't falter in seeing the repercussions of his presence.

"I'm not letting you take these children until I get an explanation!"

The bright light fixtures still hindered his vision, but the shouts quickly painted the scenario inside a reseller warehouse, not far from the garage.

"C'mon, chumpy. Don't make this harder on yourself."

Other folks witnessed the scene in confusion and unease. A group of armed strangers storming the place approached Carl, suddenly asking for the orphans.

"Not until you tell me why!" Carl shook in his shoes, but for once in his life, he refused to move, blocking them from entering a side room.

"Hey! I found a carrier," another mercenary hollered somewhere on the same floor.

"I'm not infected! Let go of me!"

"Esme!" a woman yelled.

"Esme!" Carl watched in horror at the treatment of one of the new residents: the military bully dragged a young teenage girl by the hand and pushed away an already-injured woman trying to stop him.

Crane recognized their faces too: Esme and Peri.

"Where are you taking her?!" a Junction bystander demanded from the sideline. It made no sense to Crane. Esme wasn't infected. No bitemarks on her and a clean bill of health; the last he heard about her.

But he knew better than anyone in the Junction how GRE operated. Sick or not, reasons didn't matter—no questions asked. GRE didn't discriminate against anyone, and that assertive tagline extended to even the cruelest acts hidden from the public.

"C'mon, girl. This is for your own good."

"Hey!" Orhan uttered, having caught up. "What are you doing?!"

"Nothing to worry about. Move along, people," one of the GRE agents explained.

"That includes you-hey! Ugh!"

The men saw the approaching hooded stranger as another resident of Junction. Taller than the folks, but they didn't think otherwise as a threat.

So he didn't fully register the frontal grab from said stranger. He felt someone slip a foot behind his ankle, and his body pushed down to the ground with one powerful takedown.

"Hey!" The other agent held his rifle up quick—be big, mean, and bad to civilians—then suddenly, a tendril came from nowhere and wrapped itself on the barrel. Out of his hands and a pull nearly taking him forward, he was left baffled.

Then came the punch.

BAM!

Teeth rattled inside his mouth as the mercenary went out like a light.

In the moment of the brawl, Peri had grabbed Esme to safety while everyone watched in terror of the violence. When the hooded stranger rose up, they flinched at the sight of the silver-blue eyes and the sheer giant height. One by one, they settled down once they realized their savior. Esme, Peri and Carl.

"Freakazoid," Peri called, prompting a surprised look from Carl to both find out the name of the ex-kickboxer's mysterious partner and the unbelievable calmness at the whole situation.

"You're Jack's friend…" Esme uttered, surprisingly less afraid than she had been the day Crane terrified her.

"Get everyone somewhere safe," Crane told Orhan and his friend, and they didn't hesitate—as much as he tried to keep his voice from sounding monstrous. "I'll take care of GRE."

"You're going after them?" Peri asked, genuinely worried.

It had been a wishful thought that did cross his mind. Once. Now Fate smiled his way this one time.

"It'll be ok." Crane assured the Junction folks and continued on his way. "I've been meaning to pay them back for the longest time."

Deeper into the Junction, he had more eyes turn to him. Two Junction guards instinctually raised their weapons, ready to blow the horn, but a few GREs beat them to the punch.

POW! BAM! THUD!

Right before their eyes, the Junction guards watched those professionally-trained mercenaries be thrown across the floor and the infected intruder march on like a human. Never in their wildest dreams would they see this kind of show!

The same was said for the people he left behind in the reseller warehouse.

"Come here," Carl quickly assessed to the kids behind him, checking each one present. The old, scared self that had been at the Orphanage had mostly vanished out of him, and relief washed over him once he made sure the number of children stayed the same. "Everything's gonna be alright."

The children muttered every sort of whisper: who was that man, what was going on, was the place being attacked like the Orphanage, etc.

One child hunched down quiet, easily noticeable to Carl as the group started to be led to safety with Orhan's help.

"It's ok, Ekrem," he started carefully. Patient and slow, even if things could be dire. "Help is on the way."

Ekrem said nothing. He put all his efforts into breathing and counting. 1, 2, 3, 4. In. 1, 2, 3, 4 . Out.

Rinse and repeat to stop the trembling in his hand.

---

The silence in the conference room was deafening and rewarding at the same time. Having the chatterbox shut up at the mention of a family relative did surprise Fischer. She had read her background with a fine comb.

The details didn't matter to her, regardless.

"It's a simple retrieval." Fischer firmly tapped a finger on the photo. "Find him and bring him back to us… You'll be compensated for your work."

The bitemarks on Jack's arms were all too noticeable for the boss lady not to look at. She, like any infected survivor, needed Antizin.

"You can't take Antizin. But what about your cousin?"

Under the shades, wide eyes shot at Fischer. And she still continued to tug at the brunette's metaphorical chain.

"He may already be infected by now."

Before she knew it, Jack rose up. Shot like a rabid Pitbull. Teeth flashed in that scorn of hers.

Thud!

A pained gasp escaped through Jack's gritted teeth while the two muscle men held her down. Fischer had full confidence her men would protect her. But the sudden burst did somewhat make her recoil.

Seeing the expected reaction firsthand was very different from anticipating it.

Regardless, she kept her cool upfront and nodded to her men to step down. The faster Miss Brecken agreed to be on board, the better.

A gesture of the hand, and her men let Jack go. She sank in her seat, recovering from the unheeded brute force. She had to hold her head with a free hand…

"We both want the same thing," Fischer continued with such a soft and gentle tone. "Help me help you and these people."

Trapped in a corner. Jack stared at the documents again while both hands clutched together under the table. Maybe contemplating her choices.

Fischer was patient, though.

"...Is this how you recruit people?" The brunette tilted her head in an uncaring manner. "Give them some incentive so they can work for you without question…? Money? Fame? Freedom? Family?"

The mercenaries in the room stiffened at the swaying glance of the Wild Dog as if being sniffed for any sort of careless movement.

Every one of these men with her had some sort of incentive, one way or another.

"What's his story?"

The question came out of left field to Fischer but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

Mad Jack was gone for a moment, and then she rose back up in her seat with a lopsided grin. An odd newfound sense of…admiration reflected in her pose.

"You must have pulled some bloody shit to get him to work for you."

"That's none of your concern. Are you in or not?" Fischer demanded.

Silence dragged on. Fischer sent a side gaze to her men. Ready for a backstab or the mark turning uncooperative.

"All right."

The tone came off chirpy. Too sudden to Fischer's liking as she watched Jack's mood lift up.

"I'll find this Crane guy."

Fischer almost uttered, 'huh'. That went unexpectedly easy-

"He might prove to be more useful than you lot." Stretched across her face was her award-winning smile again—Mad Jack right before Fischer. "Maybe answer some questions I've got held up for months now."

The boss lady narrowed her eyes. "Then you'll do it?"

A soft chuckle escaped Jack's lips, making Fischer's wary stare turn into a glare

"Who said I would bring him to you?"

It only dawned on Fischer. Anger slowly swept in, deepening more thanks to the brunette's grin. Did she hear her right?

"You misunderstand how this is going to work. You help us, we help you."

"I did say I have a long list of clients," Jack reminded her. "So get in line."

Fischer's glare bored right into her. This was not how it was supposed to go, Jack read her expression. The problem, however, was she faced the Wild Dog. Right there and then.

"Let me go!" a cry could be heard from outside.

All eyes turned to the door; Jack's at their widest when she recognized whose voice that was.

And not a moment too soon when she finally picked the lock on her cuffs with the hairpin she swapped from her hair.

Click! Mad Jack freed herself from the table.

"Hey-!" Fischer yelped at the sudden pull on her hand. A click! She found herself handcuffed, and a kick to her leg forced her down. "Stop her!"

Three men tried, given the immediate danger their employer was in. One thug lifted up his pistol at close range.

Click!

The other cuff slapped right onto his wrist, and suddenly, he had his supervisor thrown his way. He made a mistake—instinctually catching his boss as he lost his firearm from his other free hand, thanks to the added weight.

Jack wouldn't give him the chance to play hero, though. She jabbed him with an uppercut, knocking him out temporarily. Just as both people continued falling, she hurdled the brute's body with her shoulder. A wall between her and his buddies.

Such a split second of hesitation helped. She swirled forward like a dancer, dropping her captured bloke and giving a left hook at her next opponent. The third man then unsheathed his combat knife.

He thought he got the woman with a good swing. Careless thinking when she ducked under and fired a punch left, a punch right. The pro fighter hounded forward, leaving no chance for him to retaliate.

The goon tumbled, his back to the closed door. But Jack wasn't done—a foot up and a strong kick.

Thud!

The loud bang of the door flung open did attract problems outside the conference room. Two guards on post quickly assessed the situation and took out their batons. The man to her right attacked with a yell.

A miss as she dove back and greeted him back with her punches.

The man to her left jumped her, buff arms around her throat. Confident, he could squeeze the rabid woman unconscious.

Unfortunately, she allowed that to happen. Jack jerked her head back as hard as she could, feeling the back of her scalp hit his nose. Freed, she kicked hard at his abdomen to keep him down.

"Brecken!"

She had made a fine, bloody mess. The longer Jack stayed, the more men would surely charge in. With that, she decided to take her leave.

"This talk has been fun. Thrilling, even," Jack droned at the red-haired superior. To add injury to insult, she flashed the stolen photo of the ex-agent in her hand

Fischer grimaced furiously.

"But you've overstayed your welcome here."

"Brecken!" Fischer bellowed again. How the tables had turned.

"Oh."

The brunette stopped, gesturing out one finger as if wanting to make a point. Jack turned back, shining her wide smile but with a hint of enmity.

If you and your goons ever come near my cousin or the Tower…then I won't be so nice to you."

"JANES!" Fischer shouted one more time.

Jack ran on, shoving her way through three more GIs down the hall with brute force. It'd take a minute or two for those men behind her to wake up and uncuff their boss. Another minute to chase after the woman in red; only to find professional men down before being badgered by Fischer to get their target.

Enough time for Jack to get out and assess the new situation.

Thud! Out of the office building, she immediately found the front yard stirred up again.

"Let go!" During the whole interrogation, Siv somehow wound up being hauled by a GRE agent. It had started at the sickbay—another jarhead carrying the still-unconscious Nazmi like a body bag.

Three more residents were added to the list, hands cuffed behind them. They had shown resistance, only to be answered in violence.

"She's just a kid - Ugh!"

"Mahir!"

Next person pinned was the Junction leader. Seeing the sick—and Siv, the youngest within that target group—dragged out to the open prompted him to retaliate. But despite years of military training, he was jumped on from behind, adding a hard stomp at his leg—his already-busted prosthetic leg!

Something small and metallic loosened out of it. A real low blow at a disabled person. With the balance gone, Mahir could do nothing but fall to his knees.

"Mahir!" Jack hollered. Nobody leapt in to stop it; everyone was too horrified. Even the Junction guards recoiled.

One bypasser stood out to Jack's eyes—Quasim. This entire time he and his trappers had been herded off to the side by the GRE so they and anyone armed in the Junction couldn't pose a problem to the militaristic group.

Quasim wouldn't move. No, he couldn't. Suddenly, a man who had made it a commitment to capture and kill infected had cold feet.

He watched in horror as one of the Junction folks was treated like a criminal—even a soldier with a medal of honor.

Then the barrel of a firearm was held up to the back of Mahir's head to keep him in check.

"They tried to kill Nazmi!"

Siv screamed as loud as her lungs could go. For everyone to hear.

Closer and closer, she was pulled to the front gate, where a bus's door was opened. Maybe to be taken to the Checkpoint like she had heard. Or some medical facility to be a lab rat, her imagination ran wild.

"They don't give two shits about any of us!"

"Someone shut her up!" Fischer's second-in-command, who had been waiting until the boss lady would leave the building the entire time, yelled with frustration.

"Siv!" Jack bolted. Grabbing the closest weapon on the fly.

Then something loomed out from one of the warehouses—all eyes stuck on both the yelling teenager and the running woman in red. It was but a brief moment before Siv caught it at the corner of her eye that she lifted a foot and booted her captor away.

That barely did much, but the military bully did notice a shadow lurking over him.

Down,

down,

down.

He looked up.

The pair of silver-blue eyes illuminated under the hood, boring down at him. A scaly claw held up like a readied punch. The hooded stranger appeared out of nowhere—where did he come from, the mercenary wondered.

All the way from the second floor.

Smash! His head didn't crack like a watermelon thanks to standard protective headgear but the terrifying grip was enough to knock him out cold.

"Hold it!" some of the GRE men shouted at the intruder. "Stand down!"

"T-That's an infected! Infected!"

That did it. The entire yard riled up. The Junction folks wheeled around and cowered back indoors. Firearms did rise up but nearby civilians hurried to stop the gunmen—terrified of the idea that more noise meant more infected would flock to their Safe Zone.

It was funny to Crane. GRE mistook him for a human. A man. Until the gunman saw past his façade in horror and yelled.

"Get Solak out of here!" Taylor ordered. "Where's Fischer?!"

Quickly, Crane rushed over and helped the young teen up onto her feet, ripping her zip locks off with a sudden swap of the arm blade.

"Thanks, Freakazoid!" she uttered with a trembling smile. "You couldn't have come at a better time-"

"Are you out of your damn mind?!"

The hoarse voice, along with that out-of-nowhere comment, surprised her. Like an adult scolding a child.

"You could have gotten yourself killed!" he snapped at her. "You're not invincible, Rahim!"

Siv's eyebrows knitted together, her expression more surprised than offended or scared. She almost opened her mouth, as if asking a question regardless of their current circumstances.

It didn't help with how stunned the Hunter's eyes were immediately after his outburst.

Then something caught Siv's eye behind him.

"Quasim!"

For a brash kid like her, she jumped with idiotic bravery. Following her gaze, Crane looked over his shoulder at one big problem in the courtyard. Instinctually, he raised his arm over Siv, stopping her and being her shield instead.

In the midst of everything, Quasim somehow regained his composure. With a crossbow draw out, he pointed the arrow dead at Freakazoid. Right where the heart should be.

It wasn't for protecting Siv from the 'monster' or out of fear—it was to hunt.

He didn't see someone come at him from his left.

Thud!

"Gah!"

The pain wracked through his fingers, forcing him to drop his firearm. And the damage looked severe—his trigger finger bent the wrong way.

He swirled towards his attacker, fuming mad. Then stopped.

Looking down was the Wild Dog. No doubt she purposefully pitched the wrench at him when the weapon was in her hand.

He tried to pick up his crossbow with his other good hand-

Click!

But the lady kicked it away. It was absurd for Quasim. That thing was the danger!

And yet, the brunette's emotionless face assured him that she was fine in the head. She warned him in silence, angling the wrench under his chin.

Don't go hurting my partner.

If he dared try anything, he'd be sorry.

Something was incredibly off with her. There was something sinister and colder in her stare. The ex-athlete didn't even grin.

This woman had gone mad.

He gritted his teeth angrily.

"Stop that Hunter!" he tried again.

"Stop them!" Jack hollered over his anguish yell. Turn the commotion around. "Stop GRE!"

The focus became clear—GRE was the threat. Hands on deck for anyone who could rival even the best operator. Runners jogged right in too, armed to the teeth. Even a few trappers changed their minds and aided the cause.

Moreover, the uproar attracted the nearby hordes to the main gate, combing first at the circle of GRE grunts. Growling, hounding, and hunting for anything that moved. Three sides were at each other's throats, and quick decisions had to be made.

Quasim was baffled. His eyes darted at the scene around him. Nobody but him would pay any attention to the hooded monster.

No one fired bullets or nets. They cared too much about the little things!

But it did the job.

"Jack!" Siv uttered, happy beyond belief to see the red-jacketed adult running towards them-

"You," Jack snarled at her, making her flinch. "Back inside now!"

"O-Ok! Ok!" Siv could have retorted, but everything around her made her zip her lips and back away from the chaos. Adding the wrath of an ex-kickboxer was asking too much.

That didn't mean she listened completely and went indoors, not knowing that Jack's supposed wrath was quenched at the sight of Freakazoid.

"What took you so long?" she chided, appreciative of his presence inside the Junction.

"Oh, you know," he started. "Lurking around, terrorizing people. The usual."

A war cry made the two turn into a charging thug with a machete up high. Aimed at Freakazoid. Crane, however, dodged right, missing the blade by a hair. Jack, forward for another incoming opponent.

The first guy swung again, hard right, only for the hooded stranger to grab him by the arm and flung him over his shoulder. A tougher-looking mercenary hopped in, probably thinking that he could rival him.

Crane rammed him down with just a run, arms up, and crossed together.

The two professionals, divided and conquered. The ex-kickboxer's past glory days shone with every fist fired while the monstrous hooded man jumped into the fire to save the day.

It was bewildering. But not everyone stopped to watch the scene.

Out of a few bystanders, Mahir couldn't comprehend everything he saw as a few residents dragged him away.

A terrifyingly strong infected had gotten inside their base and was…fighting GRE. Protecting the civilians. This couldn't real, right?

His bafflement was short-lived as a grunt turned his attention to the retreating group.

If only he could stand. But all he could do was alert his friends-

A tendril shot around the grunt's neck. An "ugh!" and he got yanked away from the folks, as anticlimax and comedic as it seemed. It was horrifying, but the residents couldn't have been happier.

If anything, guns hadn't been fired. Because GRE focused on a tactical retreat. A riot would be a sneeze for them to deal with but current circumstances outweigh that decision.

Besides, Crane could tell they had other priorities to worry about. Out of the crowd, he saw Fischer flee. Of course, she stood out like a sore thumb to him; looking roughed up no doubt by Mad Jack's treatment all while being hurled away to the safety of her Humvee.

And if he spotted her, she saw the hooded infected as well. First petifried, and then, she was gone beyond the main gates.

Did she figure out who he was? Not from across the yard but either way, he didn't care.

Outside, the heavy-duty wheels shrieked loud and every GRE vehicle drove off at full throttle.

Which meant everyone in the Junction would eventually take notice of the Day Hunter inside the base.

"C'mon!" Jack then ushered Freakazoid to the gates. No point of him staying around. And there was the other pressing matter. "We need to get Umit!"

Crane hadn't forgotten—the poor old archaeologist tossed into one Humvee before everything exploded.

Freakazoid sprinted off first.

"Mahir! Close the gates behind us!" Jack hollered.

A million questions rammed in Mahir's head. But he stopped himself once he realized the reason behind her request—watching the strange hooded man run with her through the open gates.

"You heard her!" he ordered and the gatekeepers hurried to their duties.

It was lucky the horde hadn't spilt into the Junction. On the run, Jack bashed one down. Then the creature called Freakazoid lassoed the legs of another with strange tendrils, pulled and slammed its head down. Cracked like a watermelon.

Then the two disappeared, the gates closed shut behind them.

"No!" Quasim snapped. No matter how loud he tried to order his men to take down the biggest threat, it slipped out of his broken fingers.

He knew she was fishy! The damn snake hid the secret of another Day Hunter from him, from the Junction!

Worse of all was her control over everyone. They couldn't see past her schemes, all roped up by her so-called legacy. And the most naïve person to fall for it first, to Quasim, was Siv.

Quasim slammed his fist to the ground. "You stupid girl! You let that monster escape!"

"You're the fucking monster here!" Siv shouted back. For the first time inside the Junction, she finally bucked up. Finally showed the jerk that she couldn't be afraid.

He hurt Jack! He let those men take Junction civilians! He got Mahir's leg broken! And he dared look at her with that stupid face like Siv was the insane one there.

"Siv!" She wheeled back to Mahir. The poor Junction leader had been left oblivious the entire time, seeing that she knew more than he did. "What is that thing?"

"He's not a thing!" She corrected him. "He's Jack's partner!"

---

Driving through the streets of Scanderoon wasn't ideal when some places had been barricaded. The walking dead hung around the city most of the time. Regardless, that wouldn't completely stop a convoy from racing through.

Catching that convey on foot…well, it was mildly feasible.

A parkour expert jumping across rooftops could be possible, with the right tools and the best route. Adding the fact of being infected, Freakazoid was hot on the trail.

One blissful yet deceiving take he had—no more of the intense burning under the sun. He could run in the open, free to sprint in the open in the day. His body had finally developed some UV block and gradually, the duration extended the more he endured. Some kind of natural tolerance?

Somewhere deep down, Crane fearfully knew that could be a setback. One day, when it would be his time to end it all, his body might fight back before he could willingly accept his fate. The other self would revolt and seize control.

Then he would prepare himself when the time would come. Now? He had a GRE car to stop.

Higher and higher he rose, vaulting about the industrial buildings and bridges the Junction runners built. Easy for him to spot the fleet of cars ploughing through the empty streets.

"They're going too fast," Jack uttered over the comms as she went her own route in the canopies. Maybe just as high as he was to survey for the best way about the rescue. "Don't think you can grow wings right about now."

"Paraglider."

"A what now?"

"You need a paraglider. Get around the city without dealing with the infected."

"Sure. I'll add that to my bucket list," Jack chided. "They're going through Bumin Square."

Convenient but good—that area should give them time. He immediately recognized some of the landmarks the last time they had gone through there. Not too far away was the beginning of the Strait.

"Soften them up, Freakazoid."

Swoosh, Crane vaulted onwards. Light as a feather but swift as a bullet. Closer and closer to the convey, he lassoed a tendril to a water tower and launched himself forward for another leap of faith over the wide streets.

If anyone saw him there and then, it'd be like any movie scene he had seen where an infected hijacked a vehicle.

But for his case, it was with a sorta clumsy landing.

"Gaah!"

His grip on the bus's roof didn't clutch on, the talons just barely searching the metal sheet. Quickly, he sunk his other hand far deeper for good measure and pulled himself up.

The bus angled off for some reason. Ominous enough that Crane could figure out the driver's intentions.

"Shit!" He bounded to the back of the transit vehicle just as it slammed its side to the highway's pillars. Sparks off the metal and broken debris flew by.

His heart pounded inside his chest, nearly ushering out a laugh at the close-death moment. Then back to realizing he dangled off by one claw. Crane hauled him up onto the roof.

This is fine, this is fine, he thought as he balanced himself on the moving vehicle.

Not too far away, Jack tried to keep up her speed. Which she gave up quickly over spotting a tripwire. Maybe by the Junction runners, maybe it had been there before the outbreak. It ran across the streets a good fifty feet distance, and with a quick latch of Jack's ascender, down she went in a flash.

The landing was going to hurt, no matter how well she timed it. Instead of a literal dive-down onto any of the moving vehicles, Crane watched her go further away from the car chase and drop down onto an abandoned tourist bus. With one good, hurried leap, she landed on a Jeep, followed by punches and kicks to the driver and passenger—a bold move he would do himself.

"It's above us!" Crane heard muffling below him once he made it to the front.

And of course, the passenger's door of the bus flung open. A jarhead peeked out to search for the infected.

Immediately, a tendril snatched the arm poking out. One good tug, and the GRE agent went flying.

The driver then tried to defend himself for protection, pointing a pistol out of his window.

Not a chance—Kyle yanked the grunt out of his seatbelt. Adding another one to the road kills.

As the bus slowed down, he prepared for the next hijack. This time, it was a military truck. Ahead of that were three other GRE vehicles left.

One of them had Solak held in the backseat.

"Blast it!"

An arsenal of blacklights in the back of the truck flashed on. Probably a temporary means to keep infected at bay and away from the fleet. But panic turned on the mercenaries' faces when the Day Hunter pushed forward, one leap onto the tailgate.

They thought the bulbs might have broken. Or that it wasn't effective during the day.

"It's not working!"

The mercenaries wasted too much time on the lights. One desperately kicked the stand right at the monster—a pathetic attempt. He got a stab to the gut for trying.

The other thug reached in for his weapon.

THUD!

"Agh!"

The truck suddenly shook, nearly taking both the human and freak down. Crane thought it could have been a Demolisher, only to spot a GRE jeep slowing down. Dead men in the front seats.

"Gah!" Then an arm latched around the grunt's neck and pulled him over. The maddening Wild Dog switched his place on the truck while his body rolled down the road. The Jeep bumped up and then swayed off a curb.

"What took you so long?"

"Hilarious!" Jack snapped comically at his terrible turnaround of her earlier joke. As of late, Freakazoid was getting more and more humorous. At the best and worst timings.

The two swiftly had the same idea; to the front, they headed. Jack to the driver and Freakazoid to the passenger's seat. The window had rolled down, and a standard 9mm pistol pointed at him.

Again, Crane grabbed the arm and pulled. The mercenary's face smashed into the door, and in a moment of dizziness, he got hauled out through the open window.

The driver first shrieked. A monster at the side!

Then his own door unexpectedly opened.

"Goodday!"

POW! A suckerpunch right at the driver's nose broke before Jack yanked him out and into the pavement. Quickly, she grabbed the wheel and kept it steady and straight, partially hopping a foot on the pedal. Might as well acquire the vehicle if they wanted to catch up-

"Jack!"

She wasn't fully in the driver's seat when she saw another car in the side mirror—one that came out of the blues and took a nosedive. Without Freakazoid's warning, she wouldn't have swung out to the truck's back.

CRASH and the two vehicles slammed each other at the engines.

Of all the stinky luck! It was the car Kyle had busted the tire once he realized the familiarity behind it. They must have fixed a new tire and rushed after being radioed for backup.

With no one at the wheel, the truck took a hard 60-degree right. The headlights plummeted into traffic barrels of stale water before hitting the concrete barrier of the Strait.

Over the edge was a twenty-foot drop into seawater.

None of them needed to yell "jump". They leapt right out as the truck plunged down with a loud splash.

They held on the Strait's side for dear life, gripping on metal palings and stone ridges. Once Crane felt his feet grounded on a ledge, he took to helping Jack up first and back onto the Strait. By the time he climbed up himself, the brunette bolted down the tunnel for another couple of feet.

The few remaining GRE vehicles had already disappeared into the darker parts of the Strait, where the large windows ceased in the architecture thanks to the surrounding terrain. Nothing but their lights shrunk away.

"Umit!" Jack hollered in vain. Her yell attracted a few infected, forcing her to stop and turn back.

"Gaaarh!" A Volatile's swing missed her by a hair, only for the sunbeams to force it back into the tunnel's darkness. Disciplining it for leaving its sanctum.

Whooshed, the tendrils went, cording around the scorching Volatile's abdomen. A hard pull took it off its feet and down to the tar road. It writhed in excruciating pain before Crane crushed its head with one good stomp.

The other infected snarled at the new enemy and racked their claws to snatch the tasty morsel in the red jacket. However, the sun beckoned them back into the lit-up bridge section. In defeat, they crept back to their pitch-black home.

Both Jack and Freakazoid stood at the second threshold of the Harran Checkpoint, staring into the darkness. They could hear the hordes far deep in the Strait, livened up by the intruders.

The GRE agents were incredibly daring to go through a Volatile-infested route, including Fischer, which Crane found surprising. But as one ex-agent, he knew GRE didn't go into a crisis without being prepared.

The question now was: did they all make it? Was Umit all right, Jack wondered. They needed him alive for some odd reason.

"Remember what I said before? If someone from the Junction was taken to another city, that's where I'll go?"

Crane did remember. On the same wavelength as hers, he said nothing to her question when he could easily read the stick-to-itiveness in her face.

She was going to Harran and find Umit. And if Freakazoid were to stop her, she'd leave without him.

"So what are we waiting for?"

Her brow rose behind her shades at the joke. Then she faulted herself for being surprised at Beastly.

"We better get ready then." She grinned back her wide, toothy smile—what Crane wanted to see out of her. "It's gonna be one long boat ride."

The Day Hunter had no problems with the proposal. But he did turn back to the tunnel.

That direction. Harran.

He couldn't help but tense up, feeling mixed inside. Kyle had been back and forth on his decision about whether to go back there. It wasn't like going back home, but…it made him admittedly afraid.

How bad was the state after he left for the Countryside?

A cry from the distance caught their attention. "I see them!" shouted a goon. A group of jailbirds didn't try to hide in the urban environment and had already hurried after the woman in red by the Strait's entrance.

More problems on their plate.

Crane breathed in. Then out. No point in thinking about the future now. So he wheeled around—he might as well join Jack and take his frustration out on the convicts. Break enough legs to send a message.

Just enough to say that if they'd misbehave while Crane was away, he'd come for them.

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END of ARC ONE: FIRST IMPRESSIONS

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A/N: 14/6/22

Hello everyone! Finally, here it is. The last chapter of the current Arc: Welcome to Scanderoon. First off, I want to thank my close friend/co-editor/gamer bud (Sand, thank you so much pal!), ChronoSeth a reader of this fic and the Dying Light Discord fan group for beta reading this chapter.

While this took, uh, 4 months, it ended up coming together into a chapter that I really liked. There were actually a few ideas I had previously backtracked because it didn't seem like I could connect the pacing to them earlier in writing this arc and surprisingly, I did manage to put those discarded ideas back in. One example was being GRE themselves - I kept going back and forth to choosing GRE or Alexander's men confronting the Junction for a finale of the arc. That also would mean taking away Jack's interrogation scene, which really now helped give a few little breadcrumbs of what's to come. A piece of advice I think should be taken for any aspiring writer is don't worry too much about how much you add/subtract from the main plot. You will always have to 'kill your darlings' but it's also ok to put them on the backburner to see when's a good time to bring them back. There's no right or wrong way to writing, just the same as there's no right/wrong way for any creative content.

Now…the next arc. While I do have a draft of ideas about how they'll play out, this is where it might take a lot more thinking and planning, especially on two major points that are on everyone's minds: what is the aftermath for most people in Harran and Jack's reaction in regards to DL1 events.

I can see myself taking probably as long as I did with the previous arcs, plus the revamping I did before - and considering I have freelance work on the side that my time has to be put elsewhere. Additionally, I plan an ending intermission next chapter to wrap some things up in Scanderoon I couldn't in this one. So I humbly ask if you continue to be patient and look forward to what's to come. This is the arc everyone's been asking for and I hope to deliver it to your satisfaction. It will tackle on Harran and perhaps has some Scanderoon issues bleed in and I intend to use the same kind of planning/document method I've done for the previous arcs, to help me gel the ideas together.

I can see myself taking probably as long as I did with the previous arcs, plus the revamping I did before - and considering I have freelance work on the side that my time has to be put elsewhere. Additionally, I plan an ending intermission next chapter to wrap some things up in Scanderoon I couldn't in this one. So I humbly ask if you continue to be patient and look forward to what's to come. This is the arc everyone's been asking for and I hope to deliver it to your satisfaction.

Anyhow, ending this note. I hope you've enjoyed this last chapter of the arc. Thank you again so much for all the love for this fic/worldbuilding/characters and see you in the next arc!

PS. As always, feel free to check out my tumblr blog, Dying Light: The Descent where I use to give news when my next arc will come or any updates!

3/7/22 - Made some fixes and small edits.

27/7/22 - Minor changes, dialogue fix

7/9/22 - Added some new lines

4/10/22 - Improved scene on confrontation between Quasim and Jack (for the second time because I done goof on saving).

26/1/24 - Final fixes and changes, I hope

19/12/24 - Changed Fischer to Fischer. For story reasons. :3c