It took a moment for Eric to realize what was happening, the sound of glass shattering having roused him from his sleep. But reality was quick to set in.

Someone was breaking into his house.

Without a further moment of hesitation, Eric reached for the bedside table and opened the top drawer in it, revealing a pistol. He grabbed the gun and racked a round into the chamber, then stepped out of bed and began to carefully creep towards the door that led out to the hallway. Outside it, he could hear unfamiliar muffled voices speaking. His heart began to hammer in his chest, and he reached for the doorknob, intending to throw the door open and confront whoever had decided to break in.

He never got the chance before he heard the door opposite his come flying open, and heavy footfalls reverberated against the floor. Someone gave a shout of surprise, and Eric flinched as shots rang out inside his house.

A few seconds later, the screaming started.

His eyes widened, and he threw the door to his bedroom open, leading with his handgun.

Frantically, he looked around, but the darkened rooms told him nothing. In desperation, he searched for a nearby lightswitch, finding one within a few seconds and flicking it on. Light came flooding into the house, temporarily blinding him as his eyes adjusted to it.

When they finally did, all he saw was blood staining the floor.

Eric stared at the tide of crimson in shock before shaking himself out of it. The trail led down the hall, and he steeled himself, his grip tightening on his pistol, before following after it, sidling up close to the nearby wall as best as he could in the process. As he drew closer to the living room, he heard moans of agony echo throughout it, and took a deep breath.

When he spun around the corner, he froze at what he saw. Thirteen was standing there, dressed in only a set of nightclothes, and was holding a man aloft by the throat as he thrashed in her grasp, his face steadily turning blue. As Eric watched, she raised a pistol to the man's head and thumbed the hammer back, her finger hovering over the trigger.

At the sight of it, Eric couldn't hold himself back.

"Rebecca!"

***

It all started with the sound of glass shattering awakening her in the middle of the night. Thirteen's eyes immediately flew open, and she rolled out of bed, then picked herself up. Her artificial eye stared into the darkness, the house appearing to her like it would on a brightly-lit afternoon thanks to it. As she listened, she heard several unfamiliar voices speaking in hushed tones down the hall, along with muffled footsteps sounding against the floors. Her eyes narrowed dangerously at the sound of it.

Something told her this wasn't an ordinary occurrence for civilians. After all, she knew what raids sounded like.

Eric had to still be asleep in the next room over. She didn't know how capable he was in a fight, especially with his leg, but she wasn't particularly keen on finding out whether he was a liability or not. The fact was, she had the means to fend off those attackers, and therefore it became her responsibility to do so.

But even more than that… this was her house now, too. And she wasn't about to let people come in to raid it, especially not when it put Eric in danger.

Silently, Thirteen crept over to the bedroom door and opened it, just enough that she could look out down the hall.

The first thing that caught her eye was the handgun. It was a standard-issue model, likely military or police surplus that someone had stolen. She was so focused on the gun that she almost didn't notice the person carrying it – tall, thin, mid-twenties in age, apparently untrained, likely addicted to some kind of substance if the way he was twitching and scratching at his arms was any indication. He was quietly conversing with at least two other people in the living room, which meant at least three hostiles to neutralize.

Then, without warning, one of the others stepped out from around the corner and began to move down the hall. Thirteen's good eye focused on him, and as he crossed near the door she was behind, she threw it open, striking him in the face. The man gave a muffled cry of pain as his nose was broken by the impact, and she immediately followed up with several strikes to the sternum that broke multiple ribs with every impact. Finally, a kick to his right leg caused a compound fracture and brought him to the ground screaming; she grabbed him by the hair and dragged him behind her as she advanced into the next room, leaving little behind except a trail of blood.

The commotion had caught the attention of his comrades, and the gunman had now angled towards her, pointing the weapon at her while he stammered out a threat. Thirteen didn't pause, however, and merely continued to advance; as she drew closer, the man tensed, his grip on the weapon tightening, but before he could fire off a shot, Thirteen hefted his downed companion with one arm and threw the man at him. Both raiders collided with each other and fell to the ground; the gunman's weapon discharged twice into the air as he collapsed, but struck nothing.

Footsteps from off to the side caught her attention, and a third man advanced on her, charging with a knife. As he drew closer, Thirteen deflected the incoming stab, breaking both his wrists in the process; he dropped the knife and she caught it in mid-air, then plunged it directly into his stomach several times as fast as she could before letting go, leaving the blade buried in his guts. He fell to the ground, screaming in agony as he clutched at his wounds.

Just ahead of her, the gunman stood up, his face contorted with rage as he raised his pistol yet again. Thirteen raced over to him, grabbing him by the throat and smashing him back-first against a nearby wall. He struggled, kicking desperately in her grasp as she lifted him off the floor with one hand; with her other, she ripped the gun from him, breaking several of his fingers in the process. He gave a muffled shout of pain, but was unable to do anything as she disarmed him.

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And yet, the fight wasn't over yet; she still had a job to do.

Instinct took over. She raised the stolen pistol to the man's head, thumbing back the hammer as she did so. Her finger moved to the trigger, and-

"Rebecca!"

She paused. Slowly, she turned to look over her shoulder. "Eric?"

He was standing there, a gun of his own held in his hands. Their gazes met, and she realized there was something different about him. He was wearing a new emotion on his face, one that she'd never seen before.

For just a moment, Eric was afraid of her.

That gave her pause. She'd known him for a few weeks now, and in all that time, she had never once seen him show fear. He'd always been very strong, even for a standard service member. But now, he was looking at her differently, like he'd just witnessed something terrible.

Whatever it was, it didn't last. He blinked, and it was gone, having been replaced with something much more neutral. He motioned to the man still struggling for air in her grasp.

"Put him down."

Thirteen hesitated. "He had a gun-"

"And now he doesn't. Put him down."

"Eric-"

"The fight's over," he insisted. "That man is no threat to you. And if you kill him, things are going to get even more complicated than they already are. Believe me when I say that neither one of us wants that. So, please, put him down, Rebecca."

She flinched, still unused to hearing her true name being called like that. After a moment of hesitation, however, she did as he asked, releasing her grip on the man and letting him fall to the ground. Immediately, his hands began to massage his throat as he greedily sucked in deep breaths of air. Rebecca stared at him without emotion, and he shrank back out of sheer terror, pressing himself against the wall and trying to look as small as he possibly could.

"Talk," Eric said as he approached, his own gun still in hand, but lowered. "Why are you here?"

"L-look, man," the would-be home invader stammered out, his voice coming out forced due to him almost being choked out. "We just wanted to score some quick cash-"

"What makes you think anyone here has money?"

Shakily, the man raised a finger and pointed to Rebecca. "H-her! She's really rich! My little brother mentioned it to me!"

"Your little brother?" Eric asked, confused. "You mean that teenager at the clothing store?"

"Y-yeah, man! Said she was a multimillionaire, or something!"

"So your brother was involved?"

The man's eyes widened in shock, and he frantically shook his head. "N-no, fuck no, even! He just mentioned it to me in passing, man! Once I heard about it, the three of us broke into the store and checked out the security footage to see if we could find you both! We did, and thought you both looked like you'd be pretty easy, so…" He quieted down, clearing his throat before continuing. "...The security camera caught your car through the window. It was distinctive enough that all we had to do was drive around some nearby neighborhoods for a few days looking for it. From there…"

He trailed off. Eric stared at him for a moment, then sighed tiredly. Slowly, he turned to her.

"Watch them," he said. "I doubt they'll do anything, but still."

"What are you going to do?" she questioned.

"I'm calling the police… and Rosa, for that matter. She won't appreciate being woken up this early in the morning, but I suspect we're going to need her.

Give me a few seconds, I'll be right back."

With that, he disappeared back into his bedroom.

***

Eric's hands shook even as he set the handgun down on his nightstand and reached for his cell phone. He took a breath to calm himself, for all the good it did.

He'd known she was a highly-trained killer, but she had completely decimated those three home invaders in a matter of seconds, and left a trail of blood behind. And she hadn't even broken a sweat while doing it – if anything, it had all seemed utterly casual to her, like she was just going through the motions… which, now that he thought about it, she probably was. Compared to everything she'd done during the war, this was child's play for her.

It took some effort, but he managed to unlock his phone and dial Rosa's number. It rang just a few times before she picked up.

"Eric?" she asked, her voice groggy on the other end of the line. "What's going on? It's the middle of the night…"

"We've got a huge problem," he told her.

"What kind of problem?"

"Three people tried to break in. It didn't end well for them. No deaths so far, but it's… messy."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "I'm headed over now," she said, suddenly sounding completely rejuvenated. "Just… do me a favor – call the

police and the EMTs, and for the love of all that is holy, don't tell them anything but a basic statement until I get there, and don't let her talk to the cops at all."

Eric let out a slow exhale. "Please hurry."

The line suddenly went dead, and Eric wasted no time in dialing emergency services. He gave the dispatch operator a basic summary of what happened, and then at her request, hung up the phone and pocketed it, then stepped back out into the living room. Rebecca was still there, watching over the three home invaders, all of whom were still writhing on the ground in a combination of terror and pain.

"Eric," she said, getting his attention. He turned towards her, and the two of them locked eyes again. She was concerned, he noted, though he was only just barely able to tell. "Did I do something wrong?"

Eric said nothing, instead stepping over to her and pulling the gun from her grasp. He unloaded the weapon and field stripped it, then dropped the parts onto the ground before silently taking one of her hands in his. Together, the two of them stood there until lights and sirens began to fill the neighborhood.

Once they did, Eric took a deep breath, then opened the door and stepped outside, still holding on to her hand the entire time