Username: Adam Westfield

Ethnicity: Unknown

Title: Her Chosen

Competence Level: 2-10

Experience: 73%

Vitality: 100%

Plasma: 100%

Available Biometric Keys: 8

Adam had never encountered a real fire in Steeldale, but he had stumbled across its wreckage a few times. The city possessed a wealth disparity as wide as a medieval king's buffet. Many of the buildings on the south side were holdovers from the 1950s, where fire regulations weren't as strict as the modern day. He remembered walking out on the streets one day, only to be stopped by a frantic fireman waving a flag, and then seeing the mass of blackened wood and fallen supports behind him.

The ash today tasted greener, but mostly the same.

"Jesus Christ…"

It was one thing to acknowledge how grasslands didn't recover in a week. It was another to see it in action at the top of the hill, past the forest's exit. The rolling hills and fresh, open fields had vanished in smoke, replaced by stretches of devastation that covered the land like a nasty bruise. The Flame Witch had torn through large chunks of forest, tearing over many trees and leaving the ones still standing as shrivelled, greyish sticks, like burned-out matches. Smoke no longer billowed, but a greyish, dirty fog covered the land, tickling his nose and causing him to sneeze.

Lucy shot a glance at the nearby water. The stream from the mountain remained clear, but it now intersected into a muddy-brown river. She placed a few fingers in it, scooped a portion out, and shook her head. The red skies no longer reflected off it—the only consolation. Adam glanced over to his newest War Maiden. Saria was taking the sights in, her fists clenched, not saying a word.

"Saria…" Lucy began.

"I know. I know, damn it." Saria said. "This wasn't me, and it's no worse than Scourge attacks, but…"

"Hey, do I need to repeat myself?" Adam said. "'Sides, it means you're still human. A monster wouldn't give a shit."

That seemed to calm her down. It didn't make her feel any better, but after seeing this, neither he nor Lucy were in the mood for jokes. He suddenly felt glad there weren't too many people living in the wilderness.

They headed down the hill towards Glenn's Rest. The path had seen better days. Fields of dead plants, a collapsed bridge, and tyre tracks dug into the earth. Those were his. Probably. He hadn't cared about where exactly he drove during the fight, only that it was clear and led to the ravine's drop. Were the pickup's wheels patterned with zigzags, though?

Eh, it's probably nothing.

Glenn's Rest stood in the distance, its surroundings more green and brown than ash-grey. They stopped a dozen feet from its front.

"Chosen." Lucy stated.

"I know." Adam said, equipping his weapon. Saria and Lucy followed. Both War Maidens sidestepped in front of him, forming a protective shield.

"Miriam, you got anything?"

"Negative. All I have is a bird's-eye-view, remember?" Miriam said. She had opened a line with them since their departure from the MOB. The satellite would allow it until they moved out of the signal beacon's range. Adam took the portable camera attached to his uniform and raised it up.

"Nope. No good. You'll have to investigate by yourself."

So investigate Adam did.

A battle had taken place here, and a recent one at that. The bullet holes in the barricade were days old, their shell casings littering the grass, non-rusted. Wood and scrap from other barricades littered the dirt at odd angles. A burned line—possibly oil—ran the breadth from a fallen barricade to the side of the river, dyeing the water with murky rainbow traces.

The trio took a step forward, and their synapses tingled as one.

"The red…" Saria hissed. "It's here?"

"No. No hostiles within my range." Lucy said. "You two?"

"Can't detect anything." Adam said. "Seems like they're after-traces. Shouldn't be too much of a threat. Don't set it on fire."

"Wasn't going to." Saria said, but he saw her fingers outstretched, anyway. Adam inspected the ground. He checked again and, yes, that was indeed his synapses repelling against the faint strands of corruption. His vision would have missed it amongst the red light from the sky.

Candleheads, was his first guess. But they were products of the Flame Witch, unless a few had survived and decided to propagate before being killed off by the townsfolk. The red tended to vanish once the host body was destroyed, as his experience against the wraiths and other monsters had taught him. No monsters had attacked them on their way through the forest. That was strange. Were they too cowed by the devastation of the Flame Witch, or was there another reason?

"Lucy, you said there's a sniper here?" Saria said.

"Tower. Watchdog. It almost escalated to a conflict, but the Chosen and that rogue girl quelled the situation first." She glanced up. "Ah, he's here."

Cole re-appeared on the watchtower, his trusty rifle slung across his back. He took out a pair of binoculars and scanned the horizon first. He swept his gaze once, twice, thrice, and Adam grew annoyed.

"Oi!" He shouted, raising his hand. "Down here, kid!"

Cole startled. He fumbled his binoculars, hoisted his rifle and swung it in the direction of Adam's voice.

"You! You're still alive?"

"What, wishing I was dead?" Adam said. He lifted his other hand, motioning for Lucy and Saria to halt. "How's things here? Everyone doing okay?"

"Who's the other girl?" Cole said.

"Another bodyguard." Adam lied. "Met up with her after the Flame Witch tore the valley up and we escaped by the skin of our noses. She's like my other friend here—won't finish shit if you don't start it."

Cole lifted back his rifle. He glanced around, terse. His jaw clenched. "You wanting in?"

"Yeah? Why else would we be here? To say hi and then fuck off?" Adam said.

"It's kinda not a great time to be around." Cole said. "Not you, just in general."

"The hell is that supposed to mean?" Adam said. "You got beef with me again?"

Cole didn't answer for a while. The boy kept turning around in doubt, flicking between Adam, the devastation outside, and the objects below him. Lucy and Saria didn't take their eyes off him, and Adam had begun to consider if he should ask the girls to help him sneak into the village instead.

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There was a creak. The boy had punched the side of the watchtower, causing one of its supports to tremble violently. He looked at Adam.

"You still up for work?"

Adam stared. "Say what?"

"Just come in. We… might need your help."

----------------------------------------

Glenn's Rest used to be happy.

It was a weird thing to say, Adam thought, given the villages existed in a world where corruption created monsters from corpses and the skies were taken straight out of hell itself. The buildings gave Steeldale's lax housing laws a run for their money, and the residents lived without proper sewerage, electricity, water filtration, or the wealth of other modern conveniences Adam had taken for granted.

Yet, he couldn't deny the villagers' smiles when he had toured the place searching for Witch intel. It wasn't hard to understand why. The villagers worked hard. They provided for themselves and possessed trade connections via the merchants down the river. The village was situated on a prime spot, near a fresh water source and fertile farmland, yet wasn't too far from the rest of civilisation to be outcasts. Everyone in the town knew each other and maintained relations with outsiders, while prepared to defend themselves if necessary.

It had irritated Adam, and not because he was jealous they weren't saddled with the responsibility of Astraea's Chosen. He assumed the collapse of mainstream civilisation would result in humans turning on each other, the same way Steeldale's underworld had operated. And here was this little rustic place where everyone got along with each other. Somehow. Staying in the place had felt like shoving his face into a wad of sunflowers. Too damn bright, like Lucy's mystics.

They're like Mary. That nasty little voice whispered. Just to each other, on a large scale.

He didn't believe it for one second. Mary had been a beacon of light within the churning, concrete sea of the ghetto. She didn't count on the grand scale.

The gates swung open, and Adam found he didn't like what he saw. Not because the townsfolk were offensive, like those hoity-toity upper-class scum and their retarded charity ideas. An air of unease clung to the townsfolk. They enacted the usual emotions, shopping, working and conversing, but Adam had seen enough cowering victims to recognize a forced smile. Signs of their evacuation were present. Scuff marks lay in the road, and he didn't spot any merchants.

The whispers followed his group as Cole led them towards the center. They halted as a man fell forward in their path. His head landed on the hard concrete—or he would have if Saria hadn't caught him at the last second,

"Sir, are you alright?" Saria said. The man looked up at her blearily. One eye was bandaged up, and he wore a vest made from hard leather. He mumbled something. Saria blinked. "Oh right, different language. Uh, Chosen, help me out here?"

"He's grateful that you helped him." Adam said.

Saria helped the man steady to his feet, then stepped back with an encouraging smile. The man looked like he wanted to, but couldn't muster up the effort. He turned around and walked away, dragging his feet on the ground.

"Take care!" Saria called, regardless.

"That does not look like burn damage." Miriam noted. "Something is up. Be careful."

"Hey Cole, where are we going?" Adam asked.

"Where else?" Cole said. "The Ram's Roach. You gotta meet the bigwigs first."

The general sense of unease carried into the little pub. Jona stood behind the bar, as usual, and she had her arms crossed. A faint look of shock passed on her as Adam walked in, then faded away for aged sternness. The patrons were not spread out this time. They were centered, seated at a bunch of tables clumped together. A map with several pens lay on top of it, along with several mugs of half-drunken ale.

Chatter died. Jona took the stage. "It's you, boy."

She sounded harsher, as if she smoked a group of cigarettes in one go. "Here to pick up your missing girl? Well, she ain't here."

Adam stepped forward. Lucy and Saria followed him, the plasma thrumming inside them, ready to be unleashed at a moment's notice. Their clean uniforms and technology contrasted with the bolt-actions and run-down furniture more than ever, and the other patrons had noticed. A grizzled veteran type slipped a hand straight to his belt.

"No point in wasting time, then." Adam said. "You let Penny out of your sight? Thought you gave a shit about her."

Jona sneered. She waggled a wrinkled finger. "I told her as much. Told her to stay with me, instead of going back to you. She insisted, anyway."

"Penny wanted to come back to us?"

"What, don't believe me? Didn't believe her when she made that promise?" Jona said. "How typical. She said she still had business with you. An obligation, she phrased it. Guess you cocked it up big time, boy! Remember what I said about bad men and their lack of responsibility?"

That threw him for a loop. Penny hadn't abandoned him? She had been loyal? It was relief, sure, but at the same time the words didn't sound right. As if they belonged in some lost fragment of a dream that he recalled in a moment of idle thought. He shook his head.

"Then where did she go?" Adam demanded. "She didn't show to our meetup. We searched around this place and couldn't find an inch of her."

"Like we care. We've got our own problems to deal with, brat. No time to waste on a single scavenger." The grizzled old man said. He peered at Adam through a shaggy grey fringe. "Now, I have to ask, who beneath these blasted skies invited your sorry ass in?"

Adam bristled. "Cole did. Ask him."

The boy winced. "I thought, Miss Jona, Mister Banner, that he could help us out with our bandit problem."

"What, again?" Adam said. "Is that what happened to you guys?"

"And he knocks it out of the park!" Jona cackled. "Yes, boy, turns a village caught up in a Witch's mess is prime picking for the bandits. Those scars you see outside? That came from us trying to fend them off from stealing our crops. They took a couple of our kids!"

Cole stamped his foot on the ground. A ruddy red bloomed across his nose. He grunted, seethed, and grabbed Adam's sleeve.

"Please, man, you gotta help us."

"Don't touch me." Adam hissed, yanking his wrist away.

"The Flame Witch destroyed our crops! Turned a whole bunch of farmland to ash. Even though we returned, we can't grow nothing no more, and the bandits showed up the very next day! They've been hammering at us for the past week. We fended them off for a while, but our supplies are running low and none of the merchants are responding to our radio calls!"

"Didn't I hear you guys say something along the lines of being able to handle it yourself?"

"And this is why I don't like mercs, Cole." Jona said with a sigh.

"It's not our fault!" Cole cried. "They were way too many of them! They're hiding out, I know it, and they're gonna strike soon!"

"Adam, I don't know what you've been saying, but be careful." Miriam said. "Some of those patrons are eying your tech."

Adam turned to them. "Hey. If you want to start a fight, these girls will finish it. I wouldn't recommend it."

One of the patrons reached for his shotgun, only for a hand to be raised, putting him back down.

"Please, everyone." A man at the back of the conjoined tables said, "This is no time for violence. We need all the help we can get."

Adam folded his arms. "And who are you?"

"Andrey Salman." He was a lanky fellow, dressed in a checker shirt and work pants. A tie set him apart from the other farmhands. More than that, despite the situation, he remained solid. The others folded their arms and stared down at the ground, while he sat upright, straight as a Marine, and spoke to Adam without anger or apprehension. "I'm the town mayor. Shall we deal…your name?"

"Adam."

"Adam. A good name. Got it." Andrey said. "Alright, let me keep this simple. I see you like your star-tech, so if you help us, you get our power box."

That caused a reaction. Murmurs and cries erupted from the bar patrons, the loudest of which was Jona.

"Salman! What the buggering horseshit are you saying?"

"Your power box?" Adam said. "You mean the thing that's powering all your lights? "

"Correct." Andrey said. "It's star-tech, a very good one at that, and since you're stocked to the brim with that, I'd assume you'd like it."

"That's…" Adam considered it. This did seem like the type of thing Lucy and the others wanted to confiscate.

"Andrey, are you out of your damn mind?" The grizzled old man growled.

"We have to pay this young man somehow. You saw his credentials; killed a trio of the Gasheads and a cabin of monsters. His tech surpasses ours. He's a valuable asset, and I rather have no power and us still alive, than the bandits prise the box from our cold dead hands."

"There's still a chance we get reinforcements from up the river, boss!" One of the patrons said.

"We're running out of time and you know it." Andrey countered. He looked the patron in the eye and gave him a sad smile. "I feel you, Jackie. The thing is our pride and joy. But old Grandpa wouldn't forgive us if we threw our lives away with a fight."

Andrey stood up. His chair creaked across the aged floorboards. He grabbed a cane and limped towards Adam, who noticed a crude cast around his right leg. The man's weight was balanced on his left side, and it looked to be his weaker one, judging by how he corrected himself as he came to a stop.

"I apologise for my friends' behavior." Andrey said.

"What?"

"They're quite stressed, you see. It's been a very rough week for us!" Andrey said. "But they spoke the truth. We're desperate. I know we can't offer you much, especially in the way of food or drink, and I know that there's probably a thousand other things you'd rather be doing, but we truly would appreciate your help, even a little bit. Would you be so kind as to lend us your services?"

He extended his hand. Adam boggled at him, closing his mouth shut before the spit leaked out along with his disbelief. Where the hell had this guy been on his first trip?

He couldn't get his jaw to work. Couldn't spit it out that he wanted nothing to do with this damn village and he'd be on his way, thank you very much. Indeed, he knew he would've said that a week ago. Now…his mind was in a tizzy. It churned like a storm in a sea. He clenched, unclenched his hands and averted his gaze from Andrey's still outstretched hand.

What…what the hell was he feeling?

Would this guy react the same way Miriam, Lucy and Saria had, if he ordered his crew to burn the bandits down the ground? Surely not. People weren't that nice.

And yet, here he was, thinking about it. He swallowed. Took a step back to get his bearings.

"I…"

"Adam!" Miriam suddenly called. "They're coming."

"What?"

"Enemies are encroaching on the front of the village. Prepare for battle!"