The Neosun was falling. The SERaMACs medicopters should be here any moment now. But so can be the enemies. And besides, there's one last person he needs to speak to.

  Lou is in hiding with most of the techies.

  All those assigned to defense had by-now finished simulations.

  All of the traps were set. All of the ambushes were fully manned.

  Gary was among the defenders. As was Gilbert. As was Crosby, and the rest of his boys.

  The rain was thin outside. It was deadly quiet.

  The winds were no more than a gust. All of the lights were turned out; those with snipers or vantage points were given night vision. It was clear the resistance would fracture after this, though not in spirit. That spirit would scatter to the wind upon SERaMACs graceful transport.

  The Versa was parked just outside the truck within the hangar. Inside that truck remains the only computer still operational. John stared at it. Amy sat beside him.

  The hangar door was open. The thin veneer on Neosunlight bouncing meagerly off the tarmac and into his eyes as he looked out.

  In his peripheral he sees the screen finally change.

  “Look, I think he's coming.” Amy points out. The man of the minute pops on screen.

  “If it isn't Lawrence Kilmeade in the flesh. Or should I say, the fancy suit.” John comments rather offhandedly. There are simply other places his mind wants to be right now.

  Larry K responds, his voice coming through low-quality.

  “I would've hoped you would accept the offer of a virtual meeting. John I gather?”

  “You're looking at him.” John replies.

  His mannerisms make Amy nervous, though she sits out of frame.

  Larry replies to John, moving to the meat and potatoes of the discussion. “Right. Well you have quite some charisma. I can see how you've made something of a resistance for yourself.”

  Was that sarcasm? Amy thinks it's sarcasm.

  Some dull lightning comes from outside as John talks.

  “Not just me but yeah. Quite some resistance. Expect it to be going international after tomorrow. We've got almost forty men and women under our arms right now. Each and every one of them will be a revolutionary somewhere else.”

  “What exactly are you offering?” Larry asks, somewhat disregarding what John just said.

  John leans forward, a feral hatred bruising under his breath.

  “Listen to me, suit. I don't give a shit about your fancy tie. You're stupid party. Or some fucking fancy mat. I'm not offering you shit right now. I know you're interested in rebellion. So talk. Or I'm ending the call.”

  “Alright hold up hot shot…” Larry says as he twists around to grab something. He speaks while his face is out of frame.

  “So your name is something like the Arch Legion eh?”

  “Just cut to the fucking point.” John demands. Amy covers her face and buried it in her palms as she thinks John is burning one of the only bridges they've successfully made.

  But as Larry comes back into a laggy frame, that might not be the case. “Calm down sunshine. I can tell you're not a plant. Lay off of it. Now, does your name have anything to do with the Archliege?”

  “Yes.” John says.

  “Do you know anything about the Archliege?”

  “...no.” John admits. His answer makes Larry snicker, his slightly oversized suit allowing room to breathe.

  “Alrighty sunshine. Well, we'll start there, shall we? Now, I know fuck all, but I do know this… the Archliege was supposed to be erased from history the same day the sun was bloated out. Obviously, with you here… he wasn't.”

  “No shit. Your next words better be good.” John warms. Amy resigns herself to what happens from here. It's too late to stop him.

  Yet Larry still seems unfazed. She'd think that a politician would be super uppity and formal. But he seems just fine. At least so far.

  Because Larry spoke.

  “Alright. Here's some good fucking words for ya. What the fuck are you offering for a partnership?”

  John didn't tread carefully. He merely spoke the truth as he saw it.

  “Under best conditions? We overthrow the whole goddamn regime that's keeping you out of power. And then, once you're in power? We don't give a shit what you do after. So long as it doesn't affect us. Now, what do we get?”

  “Hmm… sounds like a nice offer…” Larry lingers. He looks aside to think, then looks back again. Or maybe it was one of his aides. John highly doubts that Larry is the only one sitting by himself right now.

  He looks back to his screen and gives an answer.

  “For your propaganda position? We can offer the full undisclosed support of our campaign funding to your propaganda division. And, in return, we expect you to stay neutral towards our targets and our benefactors.”

  “Sure. Sounds good to me.” John groans lowly as he pushes the conversation forward. “So how is this happening?”

  “That'll have to be organized at another date. But within the next week.”

  Hearing that was like an auditory eyesore. He leans back into the bench seat of the truck and wipes his face. Amy is worried and flat.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “Please, excuse me for a moment.” John tells him before muting his screen. He looks over and leans towards Amy. “Amy. I think it's about time I relinquish my leadership here. What do you think?”

  “I uhh… I don't know John. What would the others thinks?”

  She replies. He puts his hand on her shoulder in talks. The weight on his shoulders coming through in his voice.

  “I… I don't care what the others think. All I want is for them to be safe. But I don't want to lead anymore. And besides, we'll be going into the middle of nowhere to wherever SERaMACs takes us. I can't lead from afar. I can barely lead here.”

  It has been an emotional day for Amy. No more was it apparent in her expression. Her voice, though less burdened, is as heavy as his own.

  “Well in that case John… I think it's best to step down as leader then. Let the others carry that torch with them. You and I can just live together in… wherever we finally go.”

  A long-lost smile finally forms on his face.

  Her own can’t help to contort in kind. They kept a brief, but heartfelt eye contact for the following moment. He could've looked all day.

  Except he couldn't. And so he looks back at Larry who seems eagerly waiting. He unmutes the microphone.

  “All right Kilmeade. You got yourself a deal. But there has been a change of plans. For those pending conversations, I will refer you to our technical leader Lou. This will likely be the last time you see me, so treat him as if he was the leader, alright?”

  “Sounds fine to me. What is his mobile contract number?” The politician asks. John turns away from the camera and reaches to turn the thing off. “SERaMACs will tell you. I have to go now. Goodbye.”

  “What do you mean SE—” The screen was shut off.

  All was silent, except for the outside. And this time, though in less darkness, he at least got to be in some good company in this here truck.

  He closed his eyes and leaned back again.

  He took a deep breath in, and then a deep breath out.

  He feels a hand grab his as he exhales. The sensation surprises him, and he opens his eyes to look at her. And there they sat. Together, yet alone. Inside a car inside a building. Awaiting either a future the flies to them, or their death which will surely rises all the same.

  They stared at each other. No talking. No noise. Just exhaustion.

  This was nice even if it wasn't. Today is almost over.

  And things will change, one way or another.

  They haven't heard any medicopters yet. Yet neither have they heard any warning. Amy is the first of them to finally break the silence.

  “They probably need you out there John. Want me to move?”

  John sighs. “I want you to stay safe.” His body comes back to like as he begins moving, hopping out the right door just to circle around to her left.

  He opens it for her, and she hops out ever slowly.

  Once she is, he slams the door shot. For what will be the last time.

  Those medicopters still aren't here. The wind is still soft, as is the rain, relatively speaking. It's louder out here in the hangar.

  He realizes he should probably grab a weapon.

  Lightning thunders because thunder always follows the lightning.

  It's impossible to have one without the other.

  What also follows is John opening the boot of the Versa, and taking some of his favorite weapons. His dual pistols, which he shove in his holster and some extra magazines in his overcoat pockets.

  He also shoves some slug shell in his pants pockets, for he decides to grab a shot this time too. A Kel-Tec KSG-25 Pump Action shotgun. It can hold an entire mod of shells without reloading. In his head, that was reason enough.

  As he closes the boot he looks over to Amy, who stands awkwardly as she usually does. It's just something unique about her. He realizes she's unarmed. She's unarmed? She hadn't had to hold a single weapon the whole time. And yet now… they're coming. Of course she needs one.

  It visually deflates him.

  Not that Amy had much idea what was going on in his head. She watches as he comes closer, and lethargically unholsters one of his pistols.

  “Take this. You might need it soon.” She asks of her.

  Amy looks down at the pistol and grabs it like an artifact. She's seen some of the defenders use them in the range but… she's never had to shoot a gun before.

  “But I… but I don't know how to use this.” Amy looks up to tell John. John couldn't open his eyes to look at her. He couldn't even face his head in her general direction. Despite that, he reaches down to give her some ammo.

  And he replies to her comment as he does.

  “I know Amy. You might have to soon. Just… just don't aim it at yourself or someone like us.”

  As she takes the magazine he finally opens his eyes and comes closer rather unsettlingly. He lets go of the magazine for her to take, attempting to make a joke as he does. “Look… if you die I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

  Amy is silent as she puts it in her pocket. She looks up to him again, the joke not quite working. “It was only funny when I said that…”

  She laments.

  Too tired to cry. And not tired enough to not care. They stood there, in the hanger, covered in darkness. John gives her a tap on the shoulder as his eyes grow bloodshot.

  “Well… I guess you and I should go to our posts now… do you know where I'll see you if the medicopters arrive?”

  His voice quivered. And so did hers.

  “W— Wh— When they arrive John. You'll— s— see me here, right?”

  “I… I hope so.” He replies. It takes a second for him to regain composure. He can only do it through an exhale.

  “Alright. And if I'm not here, please… leave without me. I'll be in the hangar next to this one.”

  He starts to head off to rip himself away from all of this… emotion.

  He isn't sure if she's started moving more not as he does.

  He gives the tinny roof of the Versa two light knocks as he leaves.

  Just afterwards, a deep boom comes from outside. Was that lightning? It stopped him in his place. No… it has to be lightning, he thinks, as his walk becomes a run to the outside.

  He unslings the shotgun from his shoulder and holds it at a low-ready position as he runs towards the outside. Finally, he is immersed into the rain. The Neosun setting up on the opposite horizon from whence it rose… since this morning? It felt like a year since they last woke up.

  John swallows as he hears another boom. And so he runs towards the first hangar there they'd never explored before. Just never had the time.

  A few people were posted in there, particularly near the roof where that awkward booth scaffolding let up to.

  He marched up the stairs steadily. Another boom echoed out, closer this time. And finally, someone started the alarm.

  Not an air horn, but a unified notification to all their digiphones.

  They wouldn't dare make this place look alive with a more obvious warning.

  John and some of the others checked their digiphone hoping it wasn't true. But it was. They all read the same message.

  “Attack incoming. May we have no mercy.”