Pat stood, watching a group he couldn’t describe as anything but children hold rifles at the ready.

“Number four, bring your stock in closer. Everyone, remember to control your breathing.”

The ‘cadet’ in question did as Pat instructed. He’d been trying to train the men Summers had sent from the wilds with few results. They were eager, as only men whose lives depended on what they were learning could be, but the limited training Pat received from Summers only went so far.

Pat called out to the group. “Fire when ready.”

Gunfire rang out as the group fired, tearing into the paper targets at the far end of the base.

Three missed their shots. Pat moved to the group, laying a hand on their backs.

“You failed to kill your target, your enemy didn’t. Both you and the man next to you are dead, sit down.”

One cadet, the one who’d hit his target well, tried to argue before Bard and Viggo pressed down on his shoulder, forcing him to the ground. Seeing that, the others were smart enough to stay quiet, sitting as Pat instructed.

This was something he’d thought up. When they were travelling together, Nowak had always treated everyone as one ‘unit’. Both he and Summers had told them it didn’t matter how good you were if the man beside you were a weak link. It was a sentiment shared by many of his teachers back in the city. Hopefully, this would encourage them to help one another. Though, if they started to single out the weak, then he’d let Tel handle that.

“Fire when ready,” Pat repeated.

More shots, more misses. Either they improved, or this would be their reality.

“Perhaps I should step in,” Tel offered from Pat’s side.

He was looking at the cadet that had tried to talk back. If this were an actual military force, the boy would have been whipped until he passed out. They were not, fortunately, an actual military.

“They’re getting bolder, but we expected that.” Pat responded.

“My concern is if it happens during an attack. We need a clear leader. Someone they don’t question.”

Pat understood the concern. The cadets were learning, but that wouldn’t mean much if they wouldn’t follow orders when things got bad.

If Summers were here. . . No, that wasn’t worth thinking about. He’d put Pat in charge, and so Pat would have to solve the problem. He was just thankful that Tel was willing to work with him on this. The man knew exactly what was at stake. They were on the backfoot, they needed to prepare. Even his people, the ones that had set up in the heart of the base, were starting to repair its structures as best they could. This place was their last hope.

“Do what you can.” Pat replied after a moment. “I’ll think of something to solve our. . . problem.”

Tel inclined his head, moving off to the group of recruits. As Pat watched him leave, he couldn’t help but look up to the night sky.

Somehow, it seemed different tonight. Darker, as if some of the stars had simply gone out. His imagination, to be sure, but it worried him all the same.

Summers yawned as people gathered in the square below. He’d set up on the roof of a taller building, weapon in hand. Asmund would be here soon for the sermon, and Mia usually made an appearance. If not, then he’d have to go about looking for her.

Synel had spent the last few hours leaking the ‘secret’ that Mia was hiding, and news of the monster in the making was already getting around. Now, all that was left was to take care of the woman herself and see what happened. Once he set things into motion, it would get messy. What happened next, would be up to luck.

One way or another, he couldn’t let the samr’s grasp on the city get any stronger. Even if he left things as they were, they’d make a move eventually, that much was clear. All they could do was try to limit the damage and hope for the best.

Summers spoke into the handheld radio at his side, “Synel, anything change?”

“I see a procession, but not our lieutenant,” she replied.

The woman was watching the square from a higher vantage, just as she spoke, men with crates of food began to file into the crowd below. Summers tensed, looking over the people.

“Synel-”

“Asmund’s heading towards you, but not with the procession,” Synel interrupted. “He’s. . . angry?”

The fact that Synel could tell that from a distance was a surprise. Given the elves’ stoic nature, ‘angry’ probably translated to pissed off beyond belief. Summers considered the crowd below. They’d already confirmed the food for these things came from the church’s stores. And usually, Asmund came along with it. The pieces fell into place as he saw Mia at the tail end of this new procession.

“Shit.” Summers nearly stood from his vantage point.

If this was her making her move, there were good odds that food was poisoned. Hell, even if it were only a few of those boxes, she’d just need that first spark of chaos to get the ball rolling. The people down there were already starving, they’d probably chance it once things went to hell.

“Synel, either Mia ran out of patience, or my stunt moved up her timeline. She’s going to use the sermon to infect the city.”

“So, kill her and get out.”

“I do that they’ll still rush the food. I can’t just leave.”

“. . .Should we abandon the city?” Synel replied. “If she’s acting now, she thinks she can win. We might have already lost.”

Summers considered that. It was the right call, get out before things went to hell, but it nagged at his mind. They’d be safe for now, but sooner or later, they’d have to fight everyone they lost here.

No, buying a few weeks wouldn’t do them much, this wasn’t a war of attrition, they needed a win. They needed these people.

“Take the others, get somewhere safe.” Summers ordered. “I’ll think of something.”

With that, Summers hopped down from the roof, and into the crowd.

Summers landed with a crunch to the shocked expressions of those at the fringe of the square. All he needed to do was take out several armed guards, prevent a riot, and then convince a city filled with scared, hungry people he was on their side. Easy.

First thing was first, he counted ten of the black-eyed guards around Mia. They had guns, so they were the only threat. Thankfully, Mia had made her way to the center of the square, probably to make some grand speech. Good. Explosives it was.

Summers unslung his rifle and aimed.

Thunk!

The explosion detonated. A mix of blood and smoke filled the air. Summers saw one of the soldiers try to get to his feet, he put him down with a burst of fire a moment later. He saw one of the haggard looking men in the crowd eye the boxes guarded only by a handful of slaves.

“Anyone tries to touch that food you die!” Summers shouted.

He punctuated the statement by executing another one of Mia’s soldiers. A shot slammed into his chest, shattering off his stone-like skin. It only slowed Summers down as he took out a third man.

Mia’s eyes locked with his, hut but alive because of course she was. He’d started to train his weapon on her when it suddenly froze. Her hands were outstretched towards him. Apparently, she’d realized what he was and what she could do to Summers. He tried to struggle, but the force was stronger this time. Something was calling to him, forcing his body to move as she willed it. His arm just wouldn’t listen.

That didn’t matter. He focused his will to a point, clenching his fist in on itself. He willed the skeen’s power to loop in on itself, forcing his own muscles to move, covering the last few inches he’d need to put a bullet in the woman’s head.

This is what he should have been doing all along. He wasn’t a tactician, some mastermind working behind the scenes. He was a soldier. His talent lay in killing what was in front of him.

The woman’s eyes went wide as she realized what was about to happen.

Crack!

Summers’ shot went wide as the ground shattered beneath him. To his horror, an amalgamation of limbs and bodies began pouring out of the hole in the ground. Mia’s monster had arrived.

She’d been calling this thing. And it was using the cities’ tunnels against him.

“Shit!” Summers lost his balance as a house beside him erupted into brick and dust. People ran, screaming from the square. That solved one problem at least.

He didn’t get a chance to appreciate that fact as the mass of bodies pressed in towards him, limbs of black tar reaching for his form. He held up a hand, allowing it to reach him, and pressed his will into the mass.

It wasn’t enough. Just as he halted the first few feet of flesh, more pressed in behind it, countering his power with sheer momentum. Summers was thrown back, slamming into a wall as the massive creature barreled towards him – then abruptly disappeared.

Summers blinked. “What the fuck?”

“Saved you. . . again.” Asle gasped out. Her hand was held up as if she’d just made a portal.

Summers got to his feet, checking his gun. “Where are we?”

“Not far. It’s still there.” Asle pointed to the street a few blocks down, the creature in the distance still writhing in its place. People were pouring from the street, trying to escape as guards pressed forward, stabbing spears into the slowly expanding tendrils of black flesh that rolled through the streets. It seemed that Mia was doubling down on her plan, despite the setback.

“What do we do?” Synel asked.

Summers could only just see that she and Roan were behind him, waiting.

“Didn’t I tell you to get out?”

“Yes, and we didn’t listen, now what do we do?”

Summers took in the chaos unfolding in front of them, checked his magazine. “Support Asle, save who you can. Get them as far from the city as possible.”

Summers moved to the edge of the roof, gauging the distance.

Synel held up a hand. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“I have no fucking idea, but I’m going to start by putting holes in that thing.”

With that, Summers started back towards the fight.