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…"
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.
~~ Author's Note ~~
Hello readers! Just want to note that I will be taking a short break from writing simply because I have to move. Writing and updating will be quite difficult to do while moving, apologies about that! But no worries as the break will only be a week. Thanks for reading!
You and Frank run down the township's streets, towards the frenetic gunfire south of Town Square. Running just behind the both of you are a handful of other defending residents - at least the ones that aren't already wounded. Their minds are a mix of determination and togetherness and resilience and also fear. None certainly want to get shot or killed or worse, but they're filled with a need to protect their town, their families, their friends - it's strong enough to override all else.
You sense their resolve harden the further you run, though their fear also rises the closer you get, especially considering that the wild gunfire only gets louder as you do.
From the wild bursts echoing down the streets, you can already tell just how much more frenzied the fighting is here. A deep Scan reveals close to two dozen enemy combatants in entrenched positions inside of buildings and behind abandoned cars all along a wide street stretching east and west.
Opposite the street from them are roughly a dozen defending residents fighting back as furiously as they can. They're posted up at open doorways and windows, and doing their best to keep their opponents at bay. Another third of their numbers are scattered here and there deeper in the buildings, most of whom are wounded to varying degrees, from slight to mortal.
One of them dies even as you finish up your Scan.
Your group comes up to the northeastern edge of the block and sidle up to the corner. Frank orders everyone to stop and catch their breath for a moment, then peeks around to scout out the fighting for himself.
Once he's satisfied with what he sees, he gives everyone a few more moments to rest, then arranges all of you into two teams with quick hand gestures. He leads the first with a couple other residents wielding automatic rifles, then adds you as the fourth member. The rest are put into the second team.
Frank then beckons the first team to run around the corner and down the street with him at the lead.
"Get behind that van quick-like!" he yells at the three of you, even as he runs straight towards it.
As the four of you leave the corner, the second team comes up and attempts to lay down some covering fire for you. Each of them take turns firing their bolt-action rifles or handguns at the enemy combatants, just enough to keep them at bay - it's enough to allow you to get to cover.
Your heart beats a million times a second as you run up to the van. Despite the second team providing some cover fire for you, it doesn't stop some of the enemy combatants from taking potshots anyway.
Bursts of rifle fire erupt from their vantage points, causing bullets to rain down all around you and your team. They impact the asphalt and concrete and brick with ferocity, breaking off chunks and scattering fragments in every direction.
The sound of the rifles firing are far more frightening than anything else - you're right in the middle of it all, and can't help but be reminded of a terrible thunderstorm. Each of those rifles bark explosively in the air, which drives incredible amounts of fear right into all of you.
You do your best to exude some calm and emit low levels of your Surge, but you're too shaken by the gunfire to do much good. Instead you allow your base instincts to pretty much take over, and you focus everything you've got into running your ass off instead.
Energies from your Temperance flow around you, albeit thinly, allowing your body to move just a little bit faster than without. It reminds you of the first time you discovered the power and activated it, all those years ago. You were this weak back then, or maybe slightly more so.
You can't help but feel a sliver of excitement course through you, led by your own nostalgia and your sense of self-growth. You've certainly come a long way since then, and can channel much more energy through your mind and body.
If you had the abilities you have now, you're certain you could have made it with Kaja at your side. But you shake those thoughts away - this isn't the time or place for that.
The four of you make it to the van, panting and heaving heavily from exertion and stress. You hear bullets rap into the van's metal exterior on the other side, and even feel it shake and shiver with each impact. Whatever glass is left on the windows break and shatter on getting hit, and some of it falls down on you like a tiny ice shower.
"Help us out, wouldja?" Frank asks you.
You nod in compliance, even though you're still recovering from your harrowing run. You do your best to clear your mind of all distractions, just enough to dampen the sounds of the roaring gunfire to some degree. Then you focus another conical Surge at the enemy combatants, to catch as many of them as you can.
Waves of dizziness and confusion sweep across almost a dozen of them, enough to give them pause for a few moments. Some are caught mid-burst and out in the open, giving the defending residents an opportunity they possibly can't pass up.
Frank in particular waits for you to do your thing. Though he can't sense when you're doing what, he can definitely tell when the enemies' gunfire lulls. In that moment, he and the rest of the team pop out of cover and lay down their own barrage.
The three of them line their sights on a handful of stunned 'gangers' and fire as many bursts as they can at as many as they can see. Most of their shots hit their marks, and a handful of enemy opponents are torn open. They're thrown down to the ground or out of sight from your team's unerring weapons fire, and you sense their life's energies wink out or fade quickly, evening up your numbers to some degree.
Emboldened by Frank and his team, the other defending residents pepper the enemy opponents with their own gunfire, and suppress them for a few scant seconds.
"Get in, quick!" Frank yells to the second team, waving at them with frantic gestures.
They immediately do as he tells them, and leap out from behind the northeastern corner. Although they're still stressed out by the fighting around them, not much enemy gunfire falls on them.
Anyone dumb enough to get out of cover while the defending residents are peppering their locations are cut down in short order.
The second team dashes past you, going at breakneck speeds. They turn into an awning in the middle of the block, at the building where the defending residents have posted up. The team runs into the main entrance, then immediately disperse out to the numerous windows inside. There, they join the other residents and fire at the enemies across the street.
You sense their morale increase significantly when that happens, and much of their lingering fears and anxieties about the fight dissipate into the air.
Although the enemy combatants are pressed back for a few moments, you sense them repositioning within the building across from you, away from most of the current lines of fire. There, they regroup and wait patiently for the defending residents' attack to lull.
When more than half of you duck back into cover to reload, the enemy combatants launch their own counter-attack. Instead of tight bursts, they unload entire magazines at the defending residents, spraying bullets all over the brick building's facade.
Some of the residents are caught off-guard, and are met with a hail of gunfire. A handful are clipped on the shoulder or in the gut or their arms or legs, and are thrown down on the floor. Another is shot right in his face - the bullet practically tears his skull open into a bloody gaping wound. Blood splashes onto the wall near where he stands. Thankfully his death came quickly and painlessly, at least as far as you can tell.
You hear someone scream and sob, even as the dead resident falls over on his side.
The resident's death causes an upswell of anger and despair and sadness to course through all of the defending residents, uniting them in that moment. Many hop out of cover and fire back with their guns, driven by the gut-wrenching loss of their friend and loved one.
As a result, some are wounded or cut down by enemy gunfire, but they manage to do just as much damage to the enemy combatants in exchange. Still, it's enough for Frank to immediately get stricken with a deep anguish and runs into the building, screaming for everyone to get back in cover.
You three are forced to follow after him, even as he attempts to rally the defending residents. His concern from them is through the roof, plenty enough to cause you to empathize with him deeply, even without psionics to augment such emotions.
A handful of bullets blast into the concrete sidewalk and brick front as you run in right behind him, heedless of incoming fire. Instead of focusing on yourself, you turn your psionic energies towards the defending residents, and shape a conical Surge at them.
Although it's rather weak, you throw as much calm as you can into them, to get them back to their senses. The emotion courses through them, enough to snap some of them out of their rage-filled stupor. You follow it up with a slight Surge of fear and sense of self-preservation, just enough to allow Frank's words to seep through them.
And it works, just so. Most of those enraptured by vengeance are able to snap out of it thanks to you and Frank. They realize just what they're doing and fall back behind cover. The few that resist you are able to ignore Frank's pleas and continue on their warpath, blinded by loss and rage.
As a result, they take a number of enemy bullets and are killed or severely wounded on the spot.
A deep sense of grief washes over you as their bodies fall, as their consciousness fades away. It's not so much that you know these people and lament them, but rather you realize you could have easily saved all of them. You could have unleashed your true capabilities at any time and overwhelmed the defending residents with your psionic energies. You could have echoed Frank's thoughts directly into their psyches and snapped them out of their violent reveries with greater ease.
A grimace forms on your face when you realize that you have practically sacrificed those people in order to preserve your own identity. Part of you is torn at your decision, and chides you for it. But a greater part of you is alright with that. You know that you need to maintain your own cover at any cost. After all, you don't want to get blown apart by leaving it.
You sense some relief fill Frank as he directs people back into cover, at seeing enough of them escape death. Of course, it's tempered by a sliver of sadness at the senseless and unavoidable loss the township has suffered.
"Hold on to yourselves, goddammit!" he tells them sternly. "Gather yourselves up, don't get caught up in who's right next to you, and who ain't any longer. Just keep your damn heads down and fire back only when I say, alright!"
He then turns to you, and with a low voice asks, "do something here, wouldja?"
You nod decisively with your lips still pursed flat, then turn towards the enemy combatants. With a Scan, you take a snapshot of the defending residents' emotions into yourself, all of their despair and fear and frustration, and ball it all up into one discordant mix.
Then, with another focused Surge, you fling all of it into the enemy combatants across the street. Not only that, but you do so with as much psionic energy as you can muster. You even borrow whatever you can from Noir and do your absolute best to overwhelm your opponents.
Though both of you are capped, and the energies you channel are far from your absolute maximum, it's still more than enough to imbue your enemies with sheer misery. You sense their psyches get filled with gloom at their situation, which heightens when you Surge outward a second time. But instead of channeling how the residents feel, you inject your own regret and guilt.
You sharpen it with your energies and stab right into each of your opponents with it.
And that's the straw that breaks the metaphorical camel's back. The enemy combatants' morale drops down to the bottom, as each of them imagine the damage they've done to the people that live here. Chaotic thoughts about how they're invading someone else's home fills their minds. They're accompanied by deep pangs of guilt which border on actual sorrow.
It's enough to get one or two to literally run from all the fighting - a Scan reveals that they make their way towards the rear of their building and escape from whatever window or door they can there. The act causes a few more to hesitate even further, then ultimately decide to run as well.
Those who don't run are barely able to fight back. The thoughts and emotions tumble around in their hearts and minds, even as they aim down their sights. As a result their trigger fingers are weak, as is their hold on their weapons. And this causes their bullets to scatter in every direction, hitting nothing in particular but more brick and concrete.
On sensing the enemies' lack of aggressiveness, Frank marshals the defending residents and has them counter their opponents decisively.
"Shoot now!" he cries out. "Give 'em everything you got!"
Though they're still somewhat shaken, they're able to take down another handful of the enemy combatants with relative ease. Their rounds tear through one of the enemies and turn him into a mess. His body convulses wildly as his blood splashes all over the walls and floor. The sight of it is more than enough to completely demoralize whatever courage the enemy has left, and the handful still remaining drop their weapons and flee with abandon.
"They're running!" you call out. "We've won!"
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