9 Years Later...

  The wind was calm that day, sweeping across the northern grasslands with a kind, gentle breeze that belied the violence of the season. It was hunting season, and five men were running for their lives, or rather, running to take a life. They were chasing a buck that was sprinting with desperate speed, forcing the men to formulate a plan on the fly. They began to flank the animal, positioning two men on either side and one trailing behind, waiting for the command. "Strike it now!" Darrel yelled. It was over in seconds. The buck was dead before it hit the ground. The men converged on the carcass, retrieving the shotgun round they had used to take it down. "Now that’s what I’m talking about, baby!" Raphael shouted, unable to contain his excitement. Michael patted Darrel on the back with obvious pride. "Great going, D!" Uriel nodded in agreement. "What he said. Good call." Gabriel smiled, a true, genuine expression of relief and camaraderie.

  These men had been traveling the world together for the past nine years, ever since the fall of Lockwood. After Darrel awoke from the chaos of that time, the survivors began journeying together as the men left standing. Darrel was twenty-three now, the leader of this group they called The Legion. Gabriel and Darrel were the first to join forces, bonded by the fact that Gabriel had saved Darrel’s life. Raphael had joined third, he was hesitant at first, but warmed up to the group quickly. Uriel joined fourth, claiming it was simply the "best option" for survival. Michael joined last, he had almost returned to his home in Lumenhaven, but for some reason decided against it. They were a group now...a family.

  "Alright! Let's take this bad boy back to camp," Raphael said, gesturing to the kill. Gabriel looked up at the sky. "Yeah, it's gonna get dark soon, probably best to head out." Uriel immediately turned away. "I’ll get the car." He ran off to retrieve the vehicle they used to get around, an old machine they had found still standing in the ruins of Lockwood. While Uriel was gone, Darrel stood still in the field, writing in his notebook. He looked stressed, his brow furrowed. "You alright, sir?" Michael asked. Darrel looked up and shut the notebook abruptly. "Yeah. Just trying to figure out where we are headed next." Gabriel approached them, having finished packing the buck into a bag. "I thought we were headed east after the hunt? Did you change your mind?" Darrel shook his head. "We were going to, but the east is Wilds territory and I've heard some not-good people are setting up base down there." Michael frowned. "Not so good people?" Darrel sighed. "Yeah, I just think it's best to avoid conflict if we can." Gabriel nodded. "I get that."

  The sound of an engine approached them as Uriel arrived in the car. Raphael loaded the bagged buck into the trunk, and everyone piled inside. As they took off, Uriel glanced in the rearview mirror. "Where we headed?" Darrel didn't hesitate. "South East. We want to make it to the bay to get some fish before we enter the city." Uriel nodded. "On it." They turned and headed for Eagle Bay, the largest bay in the world. As they drove, the sun began to fall, casting a deep orange hue on the horizon. "Almost ten years," Gabriel mused aloud. Raphael looked at him. "Until what?" Gabriel stared out the window. "Almost ten years have gone by since we all met." The group fell silent as the bumpy road shook the car. "Hard to believe," Uriel muttered. Darrel did not speak. He had tried to forget the past, but the sunset’s orange glow shone directly onto his face, as if the world itself wanted him to hold onto that pain. Suddenly, Darrel spoke up. "Head North." Uriel blinked. "What?" Darrel’s voice was firm. "Head North. I want to visit it. I want to visit Lockwood." The car went silent as Uriel turned the wheel, changing their course once again.

  An hour had passed.

  Thirty-six miles outside of Lockwood, night had fully set in. The sound of leaves and grass crunching beneath the tires was the only noise that filled the car. No one spoke after Darrel gave the order, because everyone else was trying to forget that place as well. Finally, Raphael broke the tension. "D... Why? Why go back?" Darrel stared straight ahead. "We all need to be reminded of what happened that night. We cannot let the story be lost." Gabriel nodded solemnly. "I understand." Michael agreed. "Likewise." Raphael sighed, leaning back. "I guess I get it." Uriel remained silent as the car sped up, approaching the twenty-five-mile mark. It began to rain, the drops hitting the glass in an eerie rhythm, as if the weather knew the grief sitting inside the vehicle. "It’s… strange, isn’t it?" Uriel said suddenly. The group looked up at him, he was smiling as he drove. "How—how time moves. It's almost been ten years... and yet it feels like yesterday. I still hear every scream in the back of my mind. The thought process I went through as I ran out of the town. As I ran for my life."

  He laughed to himself, a small, sad sound. "Up until that point, I was alone. I lived alone, I ate alone, I slept alone... All because I thought that everyone in the world would reject me." A tear fell down Uriel's cheek. "Then that night I—I ran into that shack and found Michael, and Raphael. Then came Darrel and Gabriel." Michael shed a tear, and soon everyone was emotional. "That conversation we had after we woke up. It... changed me. I realized there were people in this world that would accept me. That cared." The car passed a mossy sign that read 20 Miles to Lockwood. "The reason I stayed, why I joined you all—The Legion—is because for the first time in my life I felt seen." Darrel began crying quietly in the seat. "You all... you all made me alive again. I love you all so much. Gosh, man." Uriel began laughing through his tears. They were a family, people brought together by an event that would have broken others. "Whenever we get to Lockwood," Uriel said, wiping his face, "I say we open up the beer we've been saving, and just enjoy the moment." Raphael sniffled. "That'd be nice. That'd be real fucking nice." Michael raised a hand. "To us!" Gabriel joined in. "To us!" Raphael shouted. "To us!" Darrel smiled. "To us!" Uriel beamed. "To us!"

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  BANG!

  Glass shattered instantly as the car began to spin out of control. It hit a fallen tree stump, flinging into the air and spinning violently. In the chaos of the tumble, Darrel looked at Uriel. Uriel was dead. He had been shot in the head. The car landed with a loud thud, and everyone crawled out of the wreckage. Darrel got out first and saw men on horseback approaching them, surrounding the crash site. They held guns and weapons, carrying a banner with an insignia Darrel had not seen before: an eye, circled by a sheriff’s star, a construction drill, and a cherry blossom tree. "EVERYONE! GET BEHIND THE CAR!" Darrel screamed. They all scrambled behind the now smoking vehicle as the horsemen began to open fire while approaching. "WHERE IS URIEL!" Raphael shouted. Darrel couldn't look him in the eyes. "DARREL, WHERE THE HELL IS URIEL!" Before Darrel could answer, Michael threw assault rifles to Raphael and Darrel. He grabbed one himself, while Gabriel readied a shotgun. "RETURN FIRE!" Michael commanded.

  The gunfight was brutal. The smell of gunpowder and smoke filled the heavy air. One, two, three of the men on horseback were taken out, but the rest were still approaching at rapid speeds. "REPOSITION!" Darrel yelled. The group shifted away from the car, retreating into the forest behind them. As they ran for cover, the horsemen continued to fire. A bullet struck Darrel's leg, and he collapsed. Gabriel, running behind him, scooped him up and ran further into the woods. "HOLD ON D! HOLD ON!" Gabriel shouted. They kept running, but just then, Darrel felt himself fall again as Gabriel's grip went slack. Darrel rolled and looked up to see what happened. Gabriel was dead, shot in the head as well. Darrel picked himself up and ran the best he could on his injured leg, trying to dodge the oncoming fire. In his peripheral vision, he saw Raphael get shot three times in the back. Raphael fell to the floor, motionless.

  Darrel kept running and finally caught up to Michael. "WE NEED TO SURRENDER!" Darrel screamed over the noise. "WHAT? WE CAN'T!" Michael yelled back. "We must," Darrel insisted. They turned around, now in a different field, and put their hands up, tears streaming down their faces. "We Surrender! W- We Surrender!" The horsemen caught up and circled them. They dismounted and ordered the survivors to their knees. "Shouldn't have ran like that," one horseman sneered. "Dirty outlaws. Always afraid to fight," said another. Darrel and Michael were crying quietly, terrified. "W- WHY!" Darrel shouted. A pistol was immediately pressed against Darrel's forehead. "If you speak again I blow your brains out," the first horseman said. "We wait for the Governor. Then you can ask questions." The barrel was lifted from his head, leaving a cold impression on his skin.

  Only a few minutes later, three more horses arrived, approaching more slowly than the others. The horseman in the middle was wearing a sheriff's uniform. He dismounted and handed his hat to the man on his left. He stared at Darrel, then pulled out his pistol and pointed it directly at Michael’s head. "WAIT!" Darrel screamed. The same horseman who had threatened him earlier punched him in the face for speaking. The man in the sheriff's suit—the Governor—knelt down to look at Darrel, his gun still pointed firmly against Michael’s head. "What's your name?" the Governor asked. Darrel spoke shakily, truly afraid. He had never been this afraid of a person, the last time he felt like this was when his dad would get angry at him. "D- Darrel. Darrel Roanshaw." The Governor nodded. "Okay, Darrel. What Outlaw tribe do you belong to?" Confusion mixed with Darrel's panic. "What... What do you mean?" The Governor enunciated slowly. "What. Outlaw tribe. Do. You. Belong. To." Darrel shook his head. "N- None. None." The Governor narrowed his eyes. "Then why did you run?" Darrel snapped. "Why did I run?! YOU SHOT ONE OF MY BEST FRIENDS YOU PSYCHO BITCH!"

  The Governor stood up and stared down at Darrel. "What's the name of your group?" Darrel was bewildered. "What!?" The Governor sighed. "If you're not from an Outlaw Tribe, what was your group's name?" Darrel swallowed hard. "The Legion." The Governor signaled the majority of the horsemen to go off somewhere. The sound of laughter and horses softened as they left the immediate area. "Are you the leader of this 'Legion'?" the Governor asked. "Y- Yes," Darrel stammered. "I a—"

  BANG! BANG! BANG!

  Michael collapsed to the ground, dead. Darrel did not scream. He did not cry. He did nothing. That was all he had left. "Come with me," the Governor ordered. He got onto his horse as the remaining men loaded Darrel onto the back of another mount. They rode off. Darrel was unresponsive. He was awake, but he was not present.

  They rode off into the night, approaching a massive glowing city with 3 districts. Darrel and his friends had just crossed paths with the strongest faction in the world. The agency.