It’s always a sight, the path to the raider camp. Lined with pitfall traps, and zombies impaled on spiked poles for display. The general message was always “KEEP THE FUCK OUT” to everyone but those who already lived inside, and nothing made that clearer than what was essentially a twenty foot pit with two heralds hung above in cages, connected to the concrete walls of the inner raider camp. On the sides stood two tall towers on both sides of each cage, a flame thrower attached to each one, for easy removal of chasers who fall inside the pit. This was the castle’s moat.

Not to mention, the actual sign above the doorway saying “IF WE CAN SEE YOU WE WILL SHOOT YOU!” and a side note saying “unles u git pusy”, the latter, written with red spray paint instead of soldered on and carefully painted.

Rider looks on in pity at the hanging bait. Their fate was cruel, any traitor, elderly or unlucky shmuck to be caught would be bitten or force fed zombie guts, hung and then left out to rot, waiting to be turned and then killed. The reason for all this? Not to rid the world of undead, but because they make an excellent fuel source. Their bile especially. Whatever is controlling them, dislikes the sunlight, probably because it burns really well.

Rider approaches the gates, and she sees three raiders. The first two seem to be guarding the entrance, while the third is chatting them up leaning against the wall and towering over them. The sounds of the roaring engine makes him turn around quickly, machete brandished. But quickly slides it back into its scabbard when he sees Rider.

“So, the lapdog returns! What did you fetch for the King this time, eh?” he laughs out, while the other two remain silent. They’re too focused on their own card game laid out on a small table by the side.

The scraping of the metal doors grabbed everyone's attention, and out came the Boss, the inner guards pulling back to their post after pushing the door for him. He was there looking for the visitor. “Boy. Manners.” He grunts out in a deep and growly voice.

“Manners?” the raider scoffs, turning to the old man. “Didn’t realize the King came to see us! Don’t tell me you’ve gotten even softer, Michael.”

“Jared. Watch your tone before I watch it for you.” They both stare at each other, before Jared lets out a dismissive tsk and turns away. “Regardless, I'm glad you're both here. Rider, after you make the deposit, there's something I'd like to discuss with the both of you.” Jared looks back up at Michael, scowling slightly but curious. Rider follows the boss to the inside, where several scattered shacks are set up, and further ahead, a central tower with a bunch of slave’s hooked next to trading posts circling it.

“Follow us up once you’re done down here.” Michael says, walking up the stairs into the metal and concrete tower.

Rider looks towards the slaves, and finds the quartermaster in charge. “Ah, Rider, my friend, it is good to see you, yes? You have more for me to give these ingrates, yes?”

A short and stubby sandy man, with the muscle to back up his cruelty. He grabs the offered bag from her, and counts out her spoils. “Mmm, yes, good good. You do well for my business. Don’t be afraid to take what you need my friend. In fact, how about a stud just for you?”

Seeing Rider not say anything he backtracks, “Or do you prefer the whores? Don’t worry my friend, if you need it, I can get it!”

Rider shakes her head, “The boss wants to see me. Please take your time.” She says sarcastically.

The quartermaster’s eyes widen, and nods his head. “Very well, very well. My scavengers found something I thought you’d like. Looking after that rabbit all this time, you might be running low on sewing materials!” He says, taking out a small box and opening it up for her. Inside is a pristine kit, carefully arranged. “And, is that a head you have on your bike? Let me see it already.”

She nods, as he waddles over to her bike, grabbing the glider head. “Oooh, one of the new specimens, Kalo will like this. Come back once you’ve talked with the boss and have an idea of what you’d like. I hate owing you so much.” He chuckles, tossing the head into a basket full of them.

She follows the boss upstairs, and reaches a control room of sorts that's been repurposed into a command room, with a throne too. On the side there’s a metal door where voices can be heard talking, quite loudly. At least one voice now.

“You talk to me like that again, and it won’t just be another round in the pit again. I’ll keep you down there until you beg me to let you out. Now get out.” Can be heard as the door is kicked open, Jared storming out. Tall, muscled and bald, the epitome of deadbeat and angry. A young man with a lot to prove. His darkish blue eyes bore into Rider, a wave of fury being kept within.

“Get out of my way, lapdog.” She moves aside, dodging his shoulder trying to bump her. Seeing that he missed he just rushes out faster. Michael, looks up from his desk inside the other room, and waves her in.

“Take a seat.” She slowly sits down looking at him in confusion. “Rider, you have helped us with these runs for three years now. You explore and travel the area. You know more than anyone else about the outside world. While we still scavenge and defend ourselves from others, we haven’t been on a raid in those three years. And unfortunately some of my raiders are getting ideas. They long for adventure, for challenge, for blood. But I know now that there’s strength in a fortified position, in helping each other, in helping humanity as a whole. The enemy isn’t another group, but the infection. You taught me that, Rider.” He says fondly, getting up and looking at a glass case full of trophies, mostly zombie skulls but a few of them from the leaders of other raider groups he domesticated.

His eyes turn cold, staring at her through the reflection. “I’m getting old. Soon, old enough to be put up as bait in the cages. I don’t fear my death, but the death of my camp. What I’ve built. My kingdom. And like any king, I need a successor, Jared. Head strong with a lot of potential, but I can’t allow him to sit on my throne while he still worships the savagery that were the raids we went on and ruin everything I’ve built to protect my community. That's why, I’m sending him with you. You have a knack for making people better, I want you to do the same with him.”

At the end of his speech, his face is now adorned with a bitter sweet smile. Rider looks at him, and tilts her head to the side. “Okay.” She stands back up, heading towards the door, but is stopped as he starts again.

“He’ll see it as exile, but I’ll always welcome him back. I just wish to see him improve as a man.” He shakes his head out of the memories in his head. “I’ll get Jared to meet up with you at the gate if you don’t mind waiting, and please send him up, he’s probably sulking by the market.”

Rider nods in response, and then continues downwards back to the market where she left her bike at. She sees a slave run off holding onto a blade, and the quartermaster snarling. “GET BACK HERE YOU UNGRATEFUL BASTARD, YOU’RE GOING TO GET SHOT!” And as soon as he says that, a bolt is found stuck in the slave's head, courtesy of a guard with a crossbow. “Bah! Wasting my property like that. You’re going to pay for damages!” The guard flips him off in response.

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“Keep them on a better leash then!”

He notices her, turning with a smile on his face “Ah, Rider, you’re back. Given any thought to what you’d like this time?” He points to a market stall with a mousey raider who jitters about staring at everything with wide eyes, her clothes only being a mess of rags. “This one’s just been caught with her hand in a cookie jar! Metaphorically of course. Usually we would tie her up in the cages, but I can tell how the guys looked at her. However, she’s still fresh right now!”

Rider gives the slave a once over, she’s a thin waif of a woman, a crop of dirty blonde hair adorning a frail pale face, and green eyes that stared at her in equal measures of hope and fear. The poor thing looked like she hadn’t eaten in days, maybe weeks. She looked familiar to her, in almost a funhouse mirror type of way.

Rider thought it over, and ultimately caved. While she was a thief, and possibly deserving of her fate if she was deemed a traitor, she needed someone to help her with her tasks, and supply runs. And maybe even look after Jared. A thief she may be, but she looked like she needed a palace more than anything else. “I’ll take her with me.”

The quartermaster looked at her wide-eyed, a genuine smile forming on his face. “Ah I see you like her that much. Very well, I’ll give her chains over to you. After all you’ve done for Nigel, Nigel owes you at least this much.” The slave looks at her in confusion, the fear draining slowly.

“T-thank you. I-I’ll do whatever you want. Thank you.”

The quartermaster looks at her in disgust. “Quiet!” The slave shuts up, and sits back down, head almost bowed.

Rider sees Jared standing by a market near another woman, this time a bright and cheery lady who was selling weapons to various raiders. His eyes seemed to be glued to her chest, and not the big one by her feet filled with various tools of murder. Noticing a pair of eyes on him, he turns to her, and a scowl adorns his face within the second.

“Mike wants to speak with you upstairs.” She says in a monotone voice. Jared sighs, and jogs his way back up, hoping to get this over with.

“Couldn’t have said it earlier could he?” He mutters under his breath, giving her a stink eye.

Nigel looks at her, a fake smile on his face this time. “I can see why the boss likes him, but it may be best if he learns to be a little more quiet. I’ve heard what he says at the bar. No respect in that boy's voice for anyone.” He shakes his head in disapproval. “Even worse, he looks at my property without paying a penny! I bet the bastard wants to touch them too. For free.” He says the last part as if it was the most insane thing ever. “Anyways, take your new property with you. Don’t want her pinching my goods.” A chain enters Rider’s hands, attached to the neck collar of the slave, the girl herself crawling over to sit by the bike.

“Do you have a name?” she asks the chained girl before offering her a hand to stand up. The girl looks up and stares at her hand for a few seconds in confusion, and hesitation, before slowly reaching out to get up.

“I’m Eliza. Ma’am.”

“Pleased to meet you, Eliza. I hear you have nimble fingers.” She bends down slightly, to get their eyes leveled with each other. She tilts her head slightly, first to the left, then to the right, appraising her new property, her new aid.

“I uhh, Yes Ma’am.” She says, before quickly looking down and fidgeting from the constant staring. “I also know how to- how to use a knife. And my-” She gulps face going slightly red. “And I’m really good with my hands.” She almost whispers the last part, cringing slightly at herself.

“Good. From now on, you’re helping me on my Vulture hunts.” Eliza looks up confused, the embarrassment gone, and nods. Before eyes widening, and lips trembling as she realizes what exactly Rider means. Dealing with the undead. But she keeps quiet, a tremble to her lips as she forces herself to keep quiet. Rider notices her expression and tilts her head curiously.

Before she can ask, Jared is already storming down the stairs, shotgun and rifle slung over his shoulder, with a large makeshift sledgehammer in one hand, and a duffel bag in the other. He’s wearing a black leather jacket adorned with chainmail, fur and small bones. His eyes are glazed over, but his face is stuck in a furious expression, and everyone that was gathered on the path to the gate shuffles out of the way in confusion and fear.

He stops in the middle, turning his head towards Rider. “Hurry the fuck up!” And then he continues onwards, as the inner guards push open the gates.

She looks down at her hip and in her own thoughts, she speaks to the rabbit. “You see this shit Frankie? Friends.” She pats Eliza on the head, and points at the side car. After they both get on the bike, slowly driving out of the gates, to Jared, who has now gotten on top of a dark red motorcycle of his own. He just stares ahead silently grumbling to himself, waiting for her to lead the way. And so, the trio set off to her treehouse.

They stop near the tree house, Rider parking her bike on the platform. The pulley system can only support one bike, so she gets off and climbs the ladder before pulling it up with a crank like before. Jared, seeing that the platform isn’t going down, grumbles to himself and parks near a tree, using a chain to wrap it and the tree locked. He follows up after her, managing to haul all of his gear up with him. Eliza stayed on the bike while it was hauled up and has a smug smile on her face while she stares at Jared climb.

Rider unhooks the slave's chain, handing it over to her, and starts rearranging her room, setting up beds with the few remaining pillows and blankets she had. “There are empty crates around here you can use. Do whatever you want with them.”

It was a makeshift home, but a home nonetheless. “Feel free to move your set up anywhere.” Eliza nods, but chooses to drop her chain by a bed, and sits down in it, covering herself up into a small huddle. Jared instead drops his bag and weapons, goes out of the room and comes back in quickly with a crate in his arms. He sets it down in a corner, puts his shit in the corner crate, and drags the blankets over there. Then he leans against a wall and stares at Rider.

Rider picks up Frankie from her hip, unzips its mouth, and gives it a whiff. she grabs the severed hand of the chaser and looks it over, “Not as potent anymore.” And tosses it out her window.

Eliza jumps slightly staring wide eyed, but Jared does nothing, his brows only furrowing into a glare. A basic staredown.

She looks at both of them “What?” Eliza only shakes her head in response, but Jared steps up to her, towering over her. “Michael kicked me out. Says I could learn a thing or two from you. Bull fucking shit. Scrawny little girl like you doesn't know a damn thing I don't. If you have something to teach me, I’m fucking waiting. Dog.” After that, Jared goes back to his spot, and lays down in his cot, focusing himself on sharpening his machete.

Rider thinks for a moment, noticing Eliza’s expectant stares. She smiles underneath her helmet.

“Chasers are attracted to heralds because their human smell is amplified. They say the undead can smell your fear from a mile away. And that may just have some merit. Interestingly enough, they know the difference between a human and an undead, and to them, heralds having freshly turned, smell human. They're attracted to human smell. So it's common practice for solos and vultures, like me, to carry a fresh body part from a zombie with them to mask their human smell.” she explains, unsure if he heard her or not. Jared grunts in response, turning over to face her. His frown is gone, and he just stares at her unimpressed, and closes his eyes, while laying down.

Eliza looks at her, actually impressed, and eager to learn more, but realizing that it's dark out, lays down to sleep. “Goodnight Ma’am.” Her eyes close too.

“Goodnight, Eliza.” she replies, turning to face Jared. “Goodnight, Jared.” The first time she’s said those words to anyone other than Frankie. Jared fakes a loud snore.

She sits down on her bed, crossing her legs and stares up into the night sky, through the leaves of the tree. “Goodnight, Frankie.” She holds it in her arms, for a while, before finally deciding to lay down and join them in slumber.