A lone police cruiser drove leisurely down the tarmac. Its sirens blared softly, the spinning lights mounted atop the car drawing the attention of passersby or the curiosity of those hiding in their homes. Veronica leaned out of the window, megaphone in hand.

“For those of you who are still in your homes, please evacuate this area. I am Veronica Vargas with the LPD—”

Trace Taylor followed behind the police car with a hand resting on the grip of her pistol. She’d been requested to assist with something important after Veronica saved her life. All she had to do was walk, and others would trail after her.

It was a long line of men, women, and children that formed this gloomy parade as they made their way through the city. Seeing this many people crowded together admittedly made Trace a little bit nervous. The last two times she saw such a large gathering of people, it was accompanied by a lot of bloodshed and death.

However, there were no signs of either violence or the prefiguration of violence here; it was like there was a tense wire tied around the hands of everyone here, and thanks to Veronica, no one was stupid enough to break it. Because—

“I repeat: please evacuate this area. It is dangerous to remain at this part of the city without electricity or shelter. Do not panic. We will do whatever we can to ensure that you and your family are safe.”

Veronica promised them sanctuary, restoring a sense of normalcy to their lives. She offered them an idea: one that created a semblance of order in the chaotic world. It was the same thing Trace’s parents talked about but done on a larger scale. They were trying to create a… commune.

That was right— a commune. Not a city or a town or a village. Veronica was just trying to establish a community where those who were scared and afraid and in need of help supported each other through the literal end of the world. She explained what she was doing to Trace, and the redhead agreed to help.

But while this procession seemed peaceful, Trace wasn’t just going to let her guard down around them. Not after what she’d seen last night. She stalked behind the police cruiser, practically hugging it, detached from the rest of the crowd. They’d just made their final round and were now headed back to the commune.

The Evergreen Gun Range was located right at the edge of the commune, fortunately. So, Trace wasn’t going to have to relocate like many of these people were doing. Although, it wasn’t going to be too difficult of a job, considering that more than half of the apartment buildings and houses in Liberapolis were currently unoccupied.

Veronica’s partner, a broad-shouldered man called Jerome, stood at an intersection just up ahead. He formed a line with a dozen other police officers and a SWAT team at the arbitrary border of the commune. The police cruiser rolled to a halt as Jerome stepped forward, calling out orders to the crowd.

He began to split the sea of people into a dozen different groups, delegating each police officer with him to oversee a group. The groups would then be ferried off to find new homes in the commune. When Veronica proposed this idea to Trace, the redhead assumed it’d be very much more organised than it actually ended up being. Because what she saw was a very haphazard and messy ordeal.

Veronica stepped out of the car as Trace pursed her lips

“Are you sure it’ll be fine?”

“I’m not sure,” Veronica said with a sigh. “I hope it’ll be fine. But we’ll have to divvy up work, food, shelter, water— there’s a lot of things that can go wrong.”

Trace shook her head. “I didn’t mean that. I mean… what happens if someone here decides to just start a riot? All it would take is a single fireball, launched into the crowd…”

“Don’t worry about it. Most of the crazies are at the Dungeons. Or if they were in the city, they wouldn’t have followed us to the commune. They’re insane, not suicidal. Those gathered here are good people. You just have to trust that.”

“I’m… not sure about that.” Trace stared dubiously at the procession. She glanced back when she felt a pat on her shoulder. Veronica smiled reassuringly.

“You know, I’m glad that I ran into you again, Trace. There’s something I wanted to show you.” Ushering the redhead to follow, Veronica walked past the SWAT team and pressed further into the commune. “Come on.”

* * *

The commune was crowded and held by a durable silence. There were small gatherings at every street corner and alleyway as people prepared to light trash cans on fire for some warmth from the chill of the night. But despite being bundled together in groups, they somehow managed to keep to themselves, silent, unspeaking.

They weren’t downtown, where skyscrapers cast uncomfortable shadows over the autumn-cooled streets. The commune was closer to the outskirts of Liberapolis. Here, five-storied brick buildings lined the pavement on either side of the tarmac roads, letting the lukewarm sun laboriously beat away at the cold gripping Trace.

Adjusting her red scarf, the redhead’s body shivered like she’d been dipped in a frozen lake as a chilly gale washed over her back. “I hate autumn.”

“Aren’t you British?” Veronica quirked an eyebrow. “I’d have thought this weather wouldn’t bother you.”

“I came to America when I was a kid, alright? I’ve grown used to the weather here.”

“Well, the power grid won’t be back up anytime soon, so there’ll be no heating in any of the houses around here. We’ll try to provide an alternative to everyone we can— I know that fire magic is a thing now, but not everyone is a Spellcaster.” She shook her head, stopping right in front of a police station.

“How are you going to manage all of this, anyways?” Trace pursed her lips. There clearly weren’t enough remaining police officers in the force to manage an entire commune of thousands of people. Tackling this was going to be a difficult task. Veronica realised just as much.

“We’ll be getting volunteers,” she said. “Anyone who’s willing to offer what they can to help. We’re not the only ones who’re scared of everything that’s happening, Trace. Everyone is.”

Somehow— whether it was because of everything Trace had seen or heard about in the past week, or both— she doubted that. There were far too many psychopaths thriving in the literal apocalypse; it would’ve taken only one or two of those individuals within the commune to ruin it all, for the fun of it.

Veronica entered the police station, and Trace trailed after her. “Look,” the redhead started, “as long as you keep the crazies out—” She halted as the door swung close behind her. Apparently, she spoke too soon.

The lobby of the police station initially appeared to be like that of any other police station. There was a waiting area with a few chairs right by a bulletin board, and a small office space with a coffee machine behind the front desk. A man sat there, casually sipping on a cup of freshly-brewed coffee as he read a newspaper. He glanced up, blinking as he saw Trace. They recognised each other immediately. He was—

“You’re that fucking arsehole who tried to kill me!” Trace instantly whipped out her pistol, aiming it at his head.

Adair Russel, home invader, attempted murderer, and level 15 Energy Caster raised his hands as he stood up. Backing up slowly, he opened his mouth. “I-it is with great distress that I…” He bit his tongue. “P-please help me, uh, officer.”

“Calm down, Trace.” Veronica stepped in front of the redhead. “Let me explain.”

Trace’s eyes narrowed. “Explain? Are you saying you let him out on purpose?!”

“I did. But that’s because he promised that he’d help. He hasn’t done anything so far to make me doubt his word.”

“He nearly murdered me just a few days ago.” It took everything Trace had within her power to stop herself from shooting Adair there and then. He gulped, and her grip tightened. “Why is he free, Veronica?”

“This was what I wanted to show you, Trace.” The police officer gestured at Adair. He looked like he wanted to say something, but a single glare from Trace kept him quiet.

Veronica sighed.

“He’s an Energy Caster, and we need help creating a temporary power source for at least a few homes. I know you two share… an unfortunate history, but we need people like him to help us keep this commune from falling apart.”

“And how exactly is he going to do that?” Trace frowned. Her suspicion was evident.

“I’m not so sure, myself. The details are lost on me. However, we spoke to an Engineer, and he confirmed—”

A door swiveled open. Someone walked into the room, holding a bowl of minute ramen in his hands. “Hey Adair, can you do me a favour…” His gaze landed on the redhead, and he paused. “Trace?”

“Brandon?” She stared at the black man standing before her.

He wore a casual shirt with jeans, deceivingly loose-fitting on his body. His head was almost cleanly shaved, shorter than even his messy beard which was littered with crumbs and foodstuff. While he didn’t look like it now, Trace knew that underneath this laidback disguise was an athlete who represented the United States for the Olympics in boxing.

“What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you in years!” The redhead dropped her guard, lowering her pistol much to the relief of Adair. She reached over to hug him before awkwardly going for a fist bump instead.

“Do you two know each other?” Veronica asked, amused.

“We go way back.” Trace waved a hand dismissively, standing next to Brandon. “He used to train me when I took boxing lessons way back.”

He nodded, looking her over. “Are you seriously that same kid from Frenzydeck who couldn’t even throw a proper punch? You’ve grown, Trace.”

“If you want, I could show you how much better I can punch right now.” She grinned, balling a hand into a fist.

Brandon scoffed. “I’ll save you the embarrassment.” With one hand still holding his ramen, he used his free arm to pull her into a half hug. “I didn’t think this is how we’d meet again.”

“What are you even doing here?” Trace drew back, smiling, and taking in the sight of her old trainer and friend. He barely looked like he aged since she last saw him— which was through a television screen. “I thought you turned pro after you won bronze in the Olympics, but I heard you only fought three times since then.”

“I turned pro, but I also received a full scholarship to New York University. I was taking it easy until I was supposed to graduate with a degree in engineering next semester, and… well… aliens decided to show up and derail my plans.”

“As it did all our plans. You weren’t the only one affected by this, y’know?” Trace rolled her eyes. Then she paused as a thought crossed through her mind. “Wait, engineering? …”

Ex was quick to respond as she squinted at Brandon.

[Magitech Engineer – Lvl 11.]

“You’re that Engineer Veronica was talking about?”

“Well, I haven’t actually gotten my degree yet.” Brandon shrugged. “But then all this happened, and I’m now officially an unofficial Engineer thanks to… magic and aliens, or something?”

“And that’s a good thing.” Veronica placed a hand on his shoulder, nodding. “With your help, we’ll be able to get a temporary local power grid up and running for everyone in the commune.”

He chuckled and scratched his head. “You’re making it sound easier than it actually is. It’ll take a while before I can get anything running, and it’s going to be extremely difficult since I don’t have a guide or anything to help me out. But hey, that’s why I’m here.”

“And that’s why I brought you here, Trace.” She turned to the redhead with a serious expression.

There was a pause. Veronica pressed her lips thinly together, gathering herself before she could continue. Trace was puzzled by her reaction, but Brandon snapped his fingers and made a face.

“Oh, so that’s what’s happening,” he said.

“What’s going on?” Trace glanced between them.

“We need your help,” Veronica explained. “I told you earlier that we’ll be getting volunteers to keep this commune together, and you’re one of such individuals who could really help us out right now.”

Trace blinked. “Me? But I didn’t agree to anything. I’m not even smart— I’m just a brash idiot. I can’t help Brandon with whatever he’s doing.”

“I’m not asking you to do that. I’m asking you to help with… something else. You saw it yourself. Those serpentfiends attacked the city, and they’re not going to stop. They’re going to keep coming— them and other monsters too. We need someone to help us defend our commune. Someone with high levels.”

It took a moment because Trace’s mind was mush right now, but what Veronica was saying finally sank into Trace’s mind. “You want me to keep fighting those monsters.”

“Or at least just deal with those serpentfiends,” Veronica quickly said. “This wasn’t the first time we fought them. They attacked a different part of the city just yesterday, and I lost two men fighting them off. I know you’ve noticed this, but we don’t have a lot of people left in the LPD.”

The redhead gritted her teeth. “So, you want me to die to those fucking monsters.”

“I won’t be asking you to go alone. But you’re one of the highest-levelled individuals in the city, Trace. I brought you here to ask for your help. It’s why Adair is here, Trace.”

Veronica nodded at the man standing stiffly behind her. He immediately averted his gaze when the redhead looked his way.

“It’s why Brandon is here. We need people who can help during this incredibly tumultuous period.”

“I-I’ll…” Trace hesitated.

She wanted to say no. What Veronica was asking of her was incredibly dangerous, something that could get her killed, but she couldn’t help but think of the scene of that family struggling as the serpentfiends came for them. It drove her to act just earlier. Now, it was driving her to act once more, and that annoyed her.

Sighing, she gave Veronica a helpless look. “I’ll think about it,” Trace finally said. “This sounds like a complicated mess, and I’m not in the right state of mind to give you a proper answer. I barely got a wink of sleep last night. And standing in the same room with that bloody bellend is only pissing me off.”

Adair shrunk back as Trace’s gaze loomed over him. He seemed like he had something to say, but she snapped her pistol up.

“Don’t you fucking dare say a word.”

He acquiesced after a split second of deliberation.

Veronica gently pushed Trace’s gun down, speaking in a placating voice. “I understand. I’m not going to ask you to help us out now. Or even to decide now. I just wanted to bring this up with you while I could.” She led the redhead away from Adair, back to the entrance of the police station. “I’m sure you must be exhausted. You look tired. Go and get some rest, and we’ll speak again next time, alright?”

Trace bit her lower lip. She felt kind of guilty, even if she didn’t exactly turn down Veronica’s request. It was true that Trace was, all things considered, relatively high-levelled for a city like Liberapolis. But just over a week ago, Trace was an eighteen-year-old whose sole responsibility was going to college, and even that was a complicated task to overcome then. It was the reason behind her argument with her parents, after all.

This was probably too much for her to deal with.

“It’s good seeing you again, Trace!” Brandon waved at her as she left the building.

She bade him goodbye, not really able to meet his gaze. He’d been her boxing coach in the past. Sure, he was a sixteen-year-old then, working part time teaching children for some cash. But Trace couldn’t say she didn’t have any respect for him. So, she felt slightly ashamed for how selfish she appeared to be acting.

Stopping in the middle of the street, she looked towards the orange glare of the sunset, letting out a tired breath.

“What do I do, Ex? If I go out of my way to help them, I’d be putting my life on the line for people I don’t even know. My parents could lose me because I recklessly decided to be a hero— I’m not a hero. I’m just an idiot with a gun who got lucky a few times. I don’t think my luck will keep up if I keep pushing it.”

Trace clenched her fist, irritated by her indecision. She waited for Ex to respond. For any sage wisdom he could impart on her. And the AI spoke—

[Trace Taylor. I only achieved sophonce a few days ago. I can offer you no advice.]

“…fair.” She took in a deep breath. “Fuck. I’m all alone in this, aren’t I?”

[Affirmative.]