An alarm rings out loudly across town, taking your attention away from your conversation with Frank. The alarm itself winds and moans across the skies like an old air raid siren from World War 2. Considering the town’s apparent age, you have no doubt it’s one of those old timey hand-cranked sirens, and you can practically imagine someone spinning it over and over tirelessly.
You and Frank immediately jump up on hearing it, and uneasiness fills the room around you. It gets worse when you hear gunfire elsewhere in the town, coming from multiple directions.
“You stay here,” Frank tells you as he grabs one of his rifles hanging off the wall. He loads it up with an already-filled magazine, then grabs a couple more magazines and stuffs them in his pockets.
“Like hell I am,” you reply as you draw your pistol.
“Listen, you’ve got a nice self-defense sidearm and all, but it won’t do much in a real firefight, alright? All it’ll do is make you a target and not much else.”
You grimace at Frank’s words. Although you don’t necessarily feel like you should fight for these people, you do feel somewhat indebted to Frank and the Mayor. After all, they’ve helped you by giving you a spot to sleep, as well as allow you to trade with the others in the town. That’s been more valuable than anything you’ve gotten in the last few weeks.
On top of that, many seem decent enough folk, despite the presence of Carl and his ilk. They might harbor all kinds of anger and fear and aggression, but they haven’t exactly taken it out on you. Well, not yet anyway.
Still, you feel they could all use whatever help they can get.
“You’re seriously turning down a gun at a time like this?” you say.
“I appreciate your offer, Nomad,” he replies. “But in truth this fight’s got nothing to do with you. This is my town, not yours.”
“All due respect, if you all get wiped out, it’ll become my problem anyway.”
It’s Frank’s turn to grimace at your words. Clearly, the idea of the entire town getting killed is an image that bothers him a great deal. His hands grip his weapons even tighter as a result.
“Fine,” he says gruffly. “Let’s go. Don’t get shot. Follow my lead.”
“You got it.”
The two of you run out into town, where the sounds of gunfire seem to escalate even higher. It occurs to you that fighting is occurring in three different places around town itself, specifically in the vicinity of Town Square.
Frank runs northwards, towards the fighting at the eastern end of town, close to where the barn is. The two of you crouch down a bit as you approach, so as to hide your advance. Frank gives you some basic hand signals to let you know to slow down or stop, and when to follow after. You do so dutifully, as you get the sense that Frank is attempting to flank the combatants ahead of you.
The gunfire gets extremely loud as you turn a corner. In the intersection beyond, you find a number of residents inside of shops and buildings defending against armed combatants. The combatants have posted up at building corners or behind abandoned cars opposite the residents, and are firing back with numerous high-powered fully-automatic rifles.
Although they look exactly the way that Frank and Janet had previously imagined, these ones in front of you are clearly far better equipped. They may still have the cheap fatigues, but they’ve clearly upgraded their armor and their weaponry.
Not only that, but their equipment isn’t a mish-mosh of different stuff. They’re all wearing the same body armor, and are wielding the same automatic rifles. Basically, they appear to be more of an organized militia than ever before, and that is certainly worrying.
Thankfully, their discipline seems relatively poor, and they spray ammunition all over the place without much care for where they’re aiming. Their rounds strike at the buildings where the defending residents are hiding, and chip away at the brick with every impact. But they barely actually hit the residents they seem to be aimed at.
You sense some of the defending residents get clipped by random shots here and there, but as far as you can tell, none have been lethal. A Scan reveals a handful of them off to the side in one of the buildings, tending to each other and wrapping up whatever minor wounds.
It’s clear from their actions that the residents have practiced all this before: the shooting, the defensive positions, the patching up. It’s very similar to the Watch, but a little more chaotic than them in some ways. They’re practiced but not experienced, and it shows.
Not that it matters much - they seem to handle themselves quite well even despite being under constant fire.
You and Frank maneuver yourselves closer to the southeastern corner of the intersection, so you both have unobstructed views of the enemy combatants. Considering they’re focused on the fighting in front of them, they don’t spot either of you as you sneak into place.
“Goddamned gangers,” Frank whispers at you. “On three…”
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But you stop him just as he hits Two.
“Lemme try something first,” you tell him.
A quick Scan reveals that there are exactly eleven of them, and their minds feel rather similar to the ones you had encountered at the Shopping Center. It’s almost as though they’re absolutely compelled to be here and commit to this attack, the same way as when those two were experimenting on the Crags.
You can’t help but think that these people might be the same group, especially when it dawns on you that they’re bound by the fervor of their orders. It feels the same, both times you’ve encountered them. That fervor feels somewhat distinct to you, and isn’t something you’ve necessarily felt in others.
Both your Dad and Frank have a similar kind of discipline in their mindsets, which you feel is likely because of their time in the military. These ‘gangers’ in front of you have a very similar mindset, only with far more blind zeal.
In essence, they feel that what they’re doing is the right thing, without question.
You shape a Surge into a tight cone ahead of you, just enough to catch each of the enemy combatants in a single attack. And once you’ve dialed it exactly how you want, you unleash waves of sheer doubt right into them.
Your Surge washes over their minds and bodies a handful of times, even as a spike of pain splits the side of your head. Thankfully you’ve capped your own capabilities, or this headache would be far more debilitating. As for the combatants, the doubt is enough to cause their zeal to shake and shudder.
Many of them take a breather in the middle of it all, as that doubt chews into their minds. They pause just long enough for Frank to realize what’s going on, and he capitalizes on the moment.
He pops out of cover just as you finish up your Surge, and fires numerous tight bursts at the combatants in front of him. He rips apart a trio of them before the rest can even react.
With another spike of pain, you Surge outward once again into the enemies, this time with alarming amounts of panic. That combined with the lingering doubt causes them to completely lose their cool, and cause them to scatter in a frenzied search for better cover. Although they scramble to find safety against Frank, they inadvertently open themselves up to some degree against the residents they had previously been fighting against.
On seeing the chaos in front of him, Frank shouts out to the other defending residents, and encourages them to pick their enemies apart.
“Hit ‘em now!” he yells out loud.
They do so eagerly - many of them lean out of cover and take a few potshots at fleeing enemies. As a whole, they hammer the area with dozens of rounds, more than enough to tag a half dozen of their targets. Their rounds tear through them with ease, either crippling them or killing them outright.
Frank certainly does his best to take down one or two more with exacting fire amidst it all.
His proficiency with his weapon is as clear as day to you, especially in comparison to the rest of the residents. They handle their weapons well enough, for sure. But with nowhere as much discipline and control as Frank is able to muster. His previous training is certainly shining through, and it makes absolute sense why he’s in charge of them.
No doubt he trains them, just like your Dad trains some members of the Watch.
Regardless of how their skills differ, they all do their jobs well and rip apart the enemy combatants with relative ease. They take advantage of their enemy’s line falling apart and chip away at them even further as it disintegrates.
One or two of the enemy combatants are able to scramble away in spite of it all - you can sense them literally drop their weapons as they flee away from the fighting, and from the town itself. Their hearts and minds are filled with panic and fear and tons of doubt, which only causes them to run faster as the moments pass.
The defending residents all cheer in victory at the sight of their enemies running, though it’s brief. Gunfire from elsewhere in the town cuts any celebrations short, and reminds everyone that the fighting is far from over.
Frank rounds up the defending residents from across the intersection, and rallies them to follow him towards the next group of enemies to fend off. High off their victories, they all follow eagerly.
“You never said you were onna them psions,” Frank tells you as you all jog to the next position.
“Never came up until now,” you reply.
“Mhm. I bet you told the Mayor.”
“Couldn’t help it - Mayor’s a psion, too. We could immediately tell that about each other. Well, psions can tell when other psions are around, anyway.”
“She is?! I thought Chris and Nance were the only two in town…”
You’re immediately taken aback at this. Why didn’t Frank know that the Mayor has psionic energy? Since he’s one of the town’s leaders, he should definitely know that.
“Why didn’t the Mayor tell you?” you ask.
“Maybe for the same reason you didn’t tell me you were,” Frank growls.
“That’s way different. We only just met, and I don’t tell just anyone what I’m capable of, no offense. I can only assume that you’ve known the Mayor for years…”
You can feel his consternation grow at the revelation. His surface thoughts are that of trust - that he had given more than he had been given himself. He also wonders why the other two psions didn’t tell him. The thoughts cloud his mind and chip away at the loyalty he willingly gives to the town. Or at least, to the Mayor herself.
“Guess that explains why you’re able to walk the country with just a pistol,” Frank says after a while.
“I haven’t even fired it yet,” you reply. “Haven’t needed to, anyway.”
“I get why you don’t tell people what you can do. You’re all by yourself trying to get on by, and gotta rely on skating under the surface. But Lisa… she… she damn well oughta know better than hide that from me, from the town.”
“What, you mean no-one knew?”
“If anyone did, they didn’t tell me.”
You don’t know what to tell Frank. Maybe the Mayor simply believes that hiding her true nature from everyone is the best thing to do. Maybe she believes it protects them, somehow. Or maybe she just believes she’s protecting herself, similar to yourself.
It hardly matters what you think or feel on the matter though.
“Think about that later,” you finally reply. “We’ve got more pressing problems to deal with right now.”
You sense Frank’s resolve solidify once again, as his thoughts return to protecting the town and the people that he loves. But you note that his heart and mind have been irrevocably shaken, and the intensity of his feelings for the town is distinctly weaker than before.