It was the day of the attack. 

According to prior experience, they would hit us around high noon, 30 minutes from now. They come from the forest, but we had people manning the riverside as well, just in case. I doubted they would be smart enough to flank us, but I also doubted they would be smart enough to throw back grenades...

I was armed to the teeth, revolvers by my side, my modified sawed-off in its holster, and my new repeater slung to my back. I had enough bullets to take over a country, and so did my compatriots. The wooden wall was reinforced and had mounted machine-guns alongside stashes of explosives.

If this didn't cut it, I don't know what would.

Edmundo clapped his upper left hand to my shoulder. "Beautiful, ain't it?"

"The guns?"

He sighed. "No, the teamwork."

Well, I wouldn't call it beautiful, but he had a point. The wall was manned by dozens of armed Chaira, grim determination etched on every face in sight. You could practically feel the camaraderie in the air.

I shrugged. "What are you doing up here? I doubt your gun arm is worth the risk."

Edmundo waggled his fingers with both of his right hands. "Now now, I'll be down soon enough. I just wanted to have a chat before the battle."

"What kind of 'chat'?"

"I...just wanted to say thanks," he murmured, somehow embarrassed despite being a grown-ass man.

"For?"

"Everything. Frankly, we wouldn't have been able to prepare so well without you." He was silent for a moment. "I don't think this new world is meant for people like us."

"As opposed to people like me?"

He just nodded and took his hand off my shoulder. He turned to the crowd on the wall. "Good luck, to all of you! Come back alive!" he yelled and was met with a cheer.

He left, and it was silent again. It was a familiar silence, one of men who knew that the next moments would be of life and death. Where people try to come to terms with their mortality, but never really do, not even in the end. 

I would know.

I would try my hardest to keep these people alive. They've been good to me. Maybe I would have survived on my own, but I would have been alone again.

Pastor was on the wall with me, Jeff was in the stables, and the kids were all indoors, despite Diego's and Lillia's arguments to the latter. They wanted to stay on the wall, Diego to quench his bloodthirst, and Lillia because dying was something that happened to 'other people'. Maybe she would learn, eventually, the way that everybody does.

Time passed quickly, and before I knew it, it was high noon. The tension was palpable, as every man and woman on the wall grasped their weapons tight in whatever digit they used to hold it. 

-Final Wave has Initiated-

And that was that. The forest filled with noise in an instant, as if they came from nothing and nowhere. It took only a moment for the first wave of creatures to swarm out of the forest, dog-likes, spider-likes, and everything in between, too many to properly categorize. They were much like the Chaira, too many interchangeable bits and pieces.

There was no organized firing line, or anybody shouting 'Open fire!'. No, everybody unanimously agreed to start shooting. The mounted 'machine-guns' did the most work, shredding through targets with a speed that even I couldn't match. The rifleman began firing too, although considerably less effective considering the distance of 500 meters.

I aimed my lever-action and waited for a priority target. I didn't have to wait long.

The larger creatures crossed the treeline next. Edmundo dubbed them 'mutants', though I'm not sure how fitting the term was. They were clearly different from the rest. Bigger, faster, stronger.

Smarter.

There were dozens of them. There were about to be 14 less.

I shot, and my aim was true, blowing straight through the chest of an armored variant, the same type that I struggled with before. It was dead before it hit the ground. Blas's 'special blend' was ridiculous, and the recoil would have seriously hurt if it wasn't for my enhanced strength. 

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Rinse and repeat. 400 meters. Bodies fell, and more slipped on the fractured bodies. The gunfire was deafening, but everybody on the wall had earplugs. Enough to stop permanent damage, but not enough to stop the headache.

Rinse and repeat. 300 meters. The machine-gunners were starting to kill the mutants as well as the rank and file.

Rinse and repeat. At 200 meters, the situation changed. Someone next to me took a projectile through the head. It looked like a spine from a porcupine, but that didn't matter so much as the fact that they could shoot back.

"INCOMING! GET DOWN!" yelled Pastor, crouching lower behind the lip of the wall. Most everybody followed suit.

I identified the shooter. It was...well, it looked like a porcupine with extra teeth and armor. It would have been funny, had it not just killed a man. I shot it through the eye. There were more.

I shot them as quickly as they popped up, their spines stretching and distorting as they launched using physics I don't quite understand and suspect made no sense anyway. Very few managed to get a shot off before I did.

I ran dry, and Pastor picked up the slack while I reloaded. He ran out, and I picked up his.

Rinse and repeat. 100 meters. The gunmen began to throw explosives, and that put the biggest dent in them yet. Pieces of monster mixed with blood and dirt as they flew into the air, the explosions carving wounds into the earth and monsters alike. They were being torn apart, and I wasn't letting them shoot back.

A few of the mutants tried to throw them back, but we made some modifications to the explosives. They were duration-based instead of impact, so they just blew up in their hands. I was quite proud of that particular suggestion.

Rinse and repeat. 30 meters, damn near point-blank. Nobody, not even the worst of us, missed a single shot now. Machine gunners and riflemen held down the triggers, and the grenadiers were practically dumping barrels of explosives off the wall, explosions close enough to paint the people atop the wall green with blood. They were too close for me to kill all the shooters before they got a shot off, so a few more Chaira fell, some wounded, some dead.

They didn't reach the wall. The last one fell just before the gate.

Everybody raised their guns towards the treeline, hands shaking, waiting for the next wave. It never came.

-Combat Over-

-Assessing Performance-

-Skill(s) gained -Penetrating Shot III, Single-Action V-

-Core Progress 90%-

High noon came and went, and the Chaira cheered.

I was in shock, frankly. This went well. We won with minimal casualties. Where was the catch? Where was the punch in the gut, where everything goes wrong? Where was the sick surprise that fate loves to play?

I waited, just standing there for a moment. Nothing happened. The corpses were still corpses, and no giant monster emerged from the treeline, promising death.

My nerves were shot. I refused to believe there wasn't a catch. There was always a catch.

Pastor slapped me on the back, almost knocking me over. "What are ya standing around for! Cheer you son of a bitch, cheer!"

I didn't. 

Pastor stopped cheering, giving me a concerned look. "What's wrong?"

"It went too well."

Pastor nodded. He knew what I meant. "Sometimes it does."

"No," I said. "It don't."

-Final Wave Concluded. 6/59 Communities Succeeded. Lowering Communal Barriers-

Here it comes. The catch.

-You are Section two of six. Subjugate or Integrate all other Section within one year-

Edmundo was halfway to us, hands in the air, when he got the message as well. He stopped, looking thoughtful. Most of the Chaira ignored the message, continuing to celebrate.

Pastor and I walked over to him. "What does this mean?" I asked.

"It means that we have some diplomacy to do," said Edmundo

"I meant the words."

"Oh," he said. He told me.

Ah. I see now.

Pastor looked grim. "More enemies?"

"Now, now, there's no need to jump to conclusions. It said 'integrate', correct? That means diplomacy is an option."

I knew what 'diplomacy' meant, in the same way I knew what 'decency' meant. 

I interjected. "We should ready ourselves for a fight. Don't be naive."

Pastor nodded. "Agreed. We should set up patrols."

Edmundo furrowed his brows and sighed. "Tomorrow."

I found myself lying awake, staring at the ceiling. I liked it here, but did we really stand a chance against other communities? What's to say there wasn't a whole damn city with a garrisoned army? What's to say they didn't decide that subjugating is the easier way to go? Well, they would. The only time diplomacy works are when violence is too costly.

Edmundo was naive. He would probably learn his lesson, though I hoped it would be as gentle as a lesson like that could be. 

I thought of Pastor. It was funny to think that people could be so similar, even across planets and species. Was there a common factor? Empathy? Intelligence? Experience?

I thought of the kids. Lillia would have to learn her lesson just as her father would. The only people who get to keep attitudes like that live in a city with thick walls and overflowing pockets. Diego learned his but learned it a bit too young. Jorge was too busy being lovestruck to contemplate his mortality, which was frankly for the best.

I dozed off, thinking of the people I've come to care about.

I woke up to the sound of gunfire, explosions, and death.

The lesson was here, and it wasn't going to be gentle.

WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE

Buck Jones

0 CHIPS

Bronze Core Occupation: Vagabond

Stats:

BODY- 1.4

SPEED- 3.6

MIND- 0.9

Skills: Quickdraw III, Take aim III. Penetrating Shot III. Fan the Hammer I. Single-Action V. Dodge I. Dual Wield II.

Traits: Deadeye V.

Unique Skill: Outlaw.