In his office, Eren pulled out some old papers and began writing furiously, drawing maps, making lists, working away until the sun was past its peak.

  He sat back, in deep thought.

  The radio clicked and produced static.

  "Boss, this is Herb."

  He picked up the receiver. "Go ahead Herb."

  "We've just heard something from the antenna, it sounds like a distress signal from South, but you might want to come and make sure."

  At this, Eren practically ran across the compound, stumbling into the antenna room at the base of the largest radio tower for miles around. He stood there in front of Herbert, catching his breath. "Well?"

  Herbert handed him a headset, which he put on. Herbert pressed a button on a tape player.

  The headset crackled in Eren's ear, "This is South... Rebels... overrun... We need help... God... us."

  Eren sat, a bit shaken, the heartfelt cry echoing. "I recognize that voice. It's their leader, it's legit." He started to pace the room. He stopped and turned to Herbert. "Where are our special forces?" He asked, referring to a group of former Marines who now worked for him.

  "I think training, boss," Herbert replied, his eye unwavering. "Should I call them?"

  Eren stood. "Call them to be ready, I'm going with them and we're going to help defend South." He thought for a second. "Tell them to get everything, and I mean... everything."

  Herbert acknowledged before turning to the radio set in front of him, starting to broadcast instructions while Eren stepped outside.

  "Alright boys," Eren stood in front of the most advanced fighting force for hundreds of miles. "We have more than a little problem now, we're going to take out a Rebel fighting force."

  The soldiers laughed nervously.

  "Alone?" One of them asked.

  "No, along with South Settlement's forces." Another round of chuckles went through the soldiers.

  "Well, boss, at that point, it might be easier to fight alone," someone remarked.

  Eren smiled slightly. "You might be right." He sat in front of them. "You, Mitch. You know how the Rebels fight."

  Mitch smiled and looked a bit worried, his forehead creasing. "Like they've got twenty-one virgins on the other side." He looked up at Eren. "Yeah, as if they've got nothing to lose."

  Eren nodded. "You're up against that, but try to keep your head on you, South troops always like to get into trouble at the worst moments."

  Mitch stood and patted Eren on the shoulder, then spun around to face his troops.

  Eren stood there as Mitch spoke to his troops, watching his movements: trained, exact, very... military.

  Mitch turned away from them as they all nodded.

  Eren assisted with gathering the equipment for a bit before going outside to prep the troop carrier -- a tall, imposing, and most of all, ancient piece of machinery. It stood before him, silent, looking down on him as he checked tire pressure, fuel, and oil. He patted it on the long hood and stood back, admiring its regal beauty, something steel, something solid. He ran his finger through the many craters caused by bullet holes; he chuckled. "How long has it been, huh?" he mused, donning his armor and doing an inventory check on his guns. After he made sure he was ready, he leaned against the vehicle, lighting a cigarette to calm the nerves, and watched the smoke rise up.

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  "Hey boss!" Mitch jogged up to him, clinking and rustling from the pounds of gear now weighing on him.

  Eren stamped out the cigarette. "Yeah, everything's ready, carrier is good to go." Mitch handed him some medical equipment before directing his men into the belly of the carrier.

  "Alright, hit it!" He hopped up into the passenger seat as Eren started the motor -- a deep, throttling, roaring sound, drowning out any chance for conversation.

  He released the brake with a grinding squeak, and set the beast into gear. They lurched forward, and began their journey, the sunset casting a warm glow on them through the dust.

  Eren smiled through it all. He knew people were going to die -- images flashed through his mind of his time in combat, where all it took was one bullet to render life, a corpse. He mused about the power of a speeding piece of metal against the flesh sustaining life. Suddenly, a memory advanced sharply to the front of his mind, causing him to wince.

  He remembered a quote from Churchill:

  "People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf".

  How fitting that was. But did he sleep peaceably? Did the people sleeping know his name?

  After three hours of continuous driving, the thick suspension making the trip feel like a slow rocking, the vehicle rolled to a stop.

  "Alright, everybody take a ten minute bathroom break!"

  Eren moved over to the passenger while Mitch got into position to start driving.

  "Let's move it, folks!" Mitch called to them, making sure they didn't waste time - The crucial steel from South Settlement was on the line, even though the whole world didn't know it. Over the noise of the engine, he muttered softly, "Sleep peaceably, people."

  His train of thought was broken when Mitch patted him on the shoulder; the vehicle lurched forward to resume their trip.

  "Boss! You should sleep if you can!" Mitch shouted over the noise and Eren nodded, leaning against the window of the vehicle and closed his eyes.

  The vehicle rocked him gently, swaying back and forth, images passed before his eyes, at first blurry, then becoming clearer. What he saw quickened his heart -- it was bright, very bright, soft around the edges; a kind of golden light that goes further than to illuminate the dark. He felt his hands holding something, he saw a twirling figure, a beautiful woman, one he was supposed to forget. She smiled as she twirled, looking into his eyes. He pulled her close, he felt her weight, the fabric of her dress-

  "Boss," Mitch said gently as he was shaken awake. "Boss," he repeated. "We're here."

  Eren stretched, rubbing the memory from his eyes.

  "Sorry, Mitch." Eren stood up and stepped into the cold night, looking out. "Where are we?"

  "On a hill overlooking South Settlement," Mitch pointed to an expanse of light below, handing him a pair of binoculars. "And over there is the Rebel camp." He pointed to an equally sizable, yet dimmer, set of lights slightly over to the right over the Settlement.

  "There's so many!" Eren exclaimed.

  Mitch looked through the binoculars, "Or maybe that's what they want us to think."

  Eren nodded, surveying the horizon.

  "Mitch, let's get an action plan." Mitch turned and nodded, "Go ahead, boss."

  "I need overwatch and long-range capabilities from a sniper squad. Radio goes with them too." Mitch turned to some of the soldiers and made sure they understood.

  "I need two assault squads, I'll be leading one, you the other." Again, Mitch instructed his soldiers.

  "And one machine gun. Someone to provide covering fire." Mitch pointed to a burly man, holding a machine gun and with ammo belts all over him.

  "Good. We're gonna drive for a few more miles, then disembark and head to our respective posts."

  "Hooah!" Was the unanimous reply as everyone got back into the vehicle for the final stretch of the journey.

  They drove in the darkness, not wanting to risk being spotted by their headlights, although the sound was probably more of a giveaway than the flickering yellow lights.

  Eren rolled to a stop, and pulled the parking brake.

  He jumped down and faced the troops. The air was cold, making them shiver as they stood. "Alright, boys. This is it. Some of you have done this before, some have not. The most important thing to me is for you to come back alive." His gaze swept over them. "Shoot the people of South point blank against a wall if you have to, but you are mine. Alive." A smile formed on his lips, but not in his eyes. There was an awkward pause as he realized what he had just said. He cleared his throat, "Let's win!"

  The soldiers offered a half-hearted "Hooah!" in return.

  With that, everyone split up and went their own ways, jogging to their posts to await the dawn; jogging towards an unknown fate; jogging to destiny.