It wasn’t the smell that bothered Rachel, it was the noise. It filled almost every corner of the city with people arguing over trivial matters and she struggled to hear herself even think. Shopkeepers were peddling garbage, soldiers were yelling at kids making trouble, priests and all manner of religious zealots yelling about the coming of the second apocalypse and all the while she had to squeeze through them in the narrow streets of the Peak. The young woman pushed past a large crowd in front of a rundown building with the words “Headquarters” painted on the front.

“Excuse me!” She repeated half a dozen times over the throngs gathered in front of the entrance. She stood on her tiptoes and waved to one of the armed guards in front of the building.

“Mack!” She yelled at the one she recognized. He turned to her direction and waved back before moving to push the crowds away for her.

“Let’s go, come on, move, move!” He yelled in a sandpaper voice that had plenty of experience yelling at people.

“Thanks Mack.” Rachel patted him on the shoulder as she made her way into the building. Rachel Wright was a well-liked Officer around the Militia. As an analyst, her job was to dive into Bastion and pre-war files they managed to come across for any useful information. She knew her job inside and out but what garnered the attention of her superiors was the drive she had. She was promoted to Captain in record time for someone her age. At least in a field not related to expeditions where promotions were rapid given the life expectancy.

“Corporal, tell them outside we’ll make an announcement soon and that plans are in motion for other options. Hopefully, this will buy us some time without half the city trying to hang us.” The Corporal was one of the few people in the building younger than her and looked terrified to go make an announcement but nodded and carried on with his orders. Rachel didn’t run but she walked just shy of it down the long corridor with offices on either side. They were pretty sure this was a law firm or a courthouse before the war and it made a fairly respectful HQ for the Militia. Plenty of offices, large spaces for equipment, and thick stone walls in case it ever came to a fight. It was the best option they had anyway.

“I’m sure someone was going to come get me at some point and tell me what the hell is going on.” She barged in a room and interrupted the meeting taking place before the door behind her even finished closing.

The room stunk of molded paper even though they had cleaned it a dozen times. They finally accepted that the smell had permeated the walls and would never go away. Everyone was busy with different patchwork uniformed men and women scrambling about looking through old paper files and scanning computer screens.

“Of course you’re here, why wouldn’t you be here? This is only a meeting for select officials but that must include you too.” A sarcastic tone yelled over the other people in the room that didn’t pay her any attention.

General McBride had the privilege of being Rachel’s Commanding Officer. This often resulted in him having to weigh punishing her for insubordination and risk upsetting the whole damn Militia that loved her or letting her get away with her antics and them possibly getting worse. More often than not he picked a stern ‘talking to’ that hardly if ever worked. At least it gave him an excuse to tell his superiors that he had verbally reprimanded her.

“I found out what happened from a passing food cart yelling ‘we’re all gonna die’ outside my window. So, all I’m saying is we need to tell them something fast or we’re going to have a big problem.” Rachel’s voice was more commanding than her petite figure indicated but she had plenty of practice arguing her side. She had learned from an early age that the only way to get anything done was to do it yourself.

“We understand that, which is why we’re all here.” A woman in a dark green uniform that looked like it used to be blue interjected with her eyes rolling to the side.

McBride walked over to Rachel and led her outside the doors she had just come through. He wanted to lessen the mocking he would surely hear about for her behavior.

“Rachel, what have I told you about doing things like this?” McBride rubbed the bridge of his nose while his face looked tense with veins bulging on the sides of it. He wasn’t an old man but also wasn’t exactly young. Rachel didn’t know his age but guessed him around mid-40′s given he came from the Bastion during the purge so many years ago. Apparently, he had been somewhat of a hero to the survivors escaping the Bastion. Which she respected him for but also hated the dreadfully slow way everyone seemed to work.

“What am I supposed to do, sit outside and wait for the riot to start?” She pleaded.

“No, you’re supposed to await orders like Officers and Enlisted are supposed to do.” he put extra emphasis on ‘do’.

“So, what’s the plan?”

“That’s not - that isn’t how this works.” He replied while gritting his teeth, frustrated.

“When we are ready for your help we will tell you, understood Captain.” He thumped the twin silver bars on her collar to get his point across that she could always be demoted if she continued her behavior.

“Understood, just trying to fix a problem before it gets any bigger.”

“It’s fine Rachel, you’re a good soldier. Just shit at being at the bottom of the food chain. We’re planning something else since the thermal generators were knocked out and this has an even better potential for a long-term power source.”

“So why didn’t we do that, to begin with?”

“Not that I’m supposed to tell you but it’s got a Gray nest on top of it.” McBride shrugged as he knew he shouldn’t be telling her anything but she was too damn persistent and reliable.

She swallowed subconsciously at the thought of the creatures.

McBride looked down for a second and rubbed his palms together as he formed an idea. “Have you ever been attached to an expedition, Captain?”

Rachel raised an eyebrow and her heart skipped a beat.

“What?!”

The ride back to the Bastion was always quiet as Pale Horse dreaded the inevitable procedures awaiting them. The time of being a free man was over and now they had to go back to being machines.

Once back the drone would initiate docking procedures as the beetle-shaped object was swallowed up by the mountain which hid the main hanger bay meant for decontamination procedures. Inside after a quick bath to remove any radiation each team member would be stripped down to the nude and subject to various tests.

“Open” The egg head lab coat wearing shrimp was getting on Moses last nerve. He had checked his mouth and taken photographs three times now and Moses was starting to wonder what the hell he was looking for.

“187 you may proceed to the next testing area.” Moses wanted to roll his eyes but knew better. The tests were supposed to check for defects and anomalies but usually ended up being games of screw with the Venator. Where rolling your eyes got another batch of shots and probing. No one ever talked about the probing station.

“287 your caloric intake is too high. I’m restricting your ration values by 25%.” Rose bit his tongue to the point it almost bled.

You saying I’m fat you pasty faced twat?! He thought to himself as he fantasized about breaking the guy in half.

Rook or 333 as his designation was, sat on a white table like the others. Hands at his side and no clothing to cover his ‘shame’. He may have been the newest member of the Team but he had already done this more times than he had wanted. Unfortunately for him the technician going over his meta-cognition hardware in his brain stem was a very attractive woman with little patience. Last time he let himself get to...excited during testing. They had placed him on a series of pills that made him crave sugary foods and really moody.

5. ..4...3...2....1....5.....4....3....2....1 He kept repeating mentally to focus on something besides the women rubbing his neck and scanning the cybernetics in his skull.

Once completed with the testing they were permitted to go to the Venator quarters. Where they’d stay until the next mission or the order to go into Cryo to preserve their life as a tool. Cryo was the preferable option since they didn’t have to endure the Bastion. While the Bastion was a marvel of human engineering built in the years before the great war, the people it housed were a different story. Generation after generation living in an underground complex built into the side of the Yucca Mountain had unforeseen side effects on the human mental state. The Venators were blind to many of the Bastion problems since they were shunned and kept locked up like wild animals, only to be unleashed when needed.

“Glass, you find me that Lexus emblem!?” Mouse began interrogating the other Venator the moment the barracks doors opened.

Glass who was sitting on his top bunk reading something on a tablet paid him little attention. Glass had got his nickname when he accidentally ran into a glass pane wall on a mission. Something no one would have predicted would survive a nuclear war but it definitely didn’t survive Glass slamming into it while Black Horse was trying to sneak past a Gray nest.

"Rose owes me 2 double A's, you're not getting shit until he pays up." Glass replied without looking up from the tablet.

Rose who had been rummaging through his locker looking for a stashed nutrient cube stopped for a moment and looked at Glass as if personally offended.

"What the hell? I paid you before we went on ice?"

Glass finally set the tablet down and sat upright on his bunk. He had to stoop his head to avoid hitting the ceiling that would have been fine for any normal human height.

"Did you give it to me personally?" He inquired suspiciously.

"Well no I gave it to Boomer, you had already gone under."

Baron walked past the bed bunks and lockers lining the narrow rectangular room as he headed for the Venators gym at the back. He caught himself smiling as he listened to his team argue with Black Horse. The dysfunctional group he had as a family was in good spirits which chipped away at his stone covered heart.

Baron stepped in the gym and nodded to Warden, the Captain over Black Horse. Even when not training the gym was almost always occupied as privacy was not a commodity the Venators had in great supply. Baron cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders as he walked over to one of the tables near the far wall. Warden was sitting beside the table in a metal chair with clothes piled on it to make it slightly more comfortable. He was slumped down in a lackadaisical manner with his feet propped up, probably asleep before Baron walked in. Warden nodded in a casual greeting as Baron pulled a chair over closer to him. Baron let out a deep sigh as he leaned over the table and rested his elbows on it while rubbing his temple.

“Rough one?” Warden asked.

“Just survivors this time but you know how Command is with them. I'd rather go against the Gray to be truthful, at least they're worse monsters than us.” Baron replied as he cracked his neck for a second time. He had a throbbing headache from the shots they gave him earlier at testing.

Warden let out a grunt as he leaned forward over the table and sat upright.“I remember one time when we found a kid hiding in a shopping center.” Warden stopped for a moment to adjust his uncomfortable metal chair, no matter how they tried to fix it no one could make them comfortable.

"So, this kid right." Warden continued as Baron nodded eagerly wanting a story to distract him.

"He was skinny as a twig and alone, said his dad never came back when he went out looking for food. Burbank thought he'd know something about a turncoat we were looking for from a nearby outpost. Don't ask me why we all know the man's a fucking lunatic. Anyway, he orders Boomer to start breaking his fingers, one by one. You know Boomer, he hates that kinda shit more than the rest of us but he did as he was told. Finally after what had to be an hour the kid goes into shock and when Burbank looked away for a moment Boomer snapped the kid's neck."

Baron furrowed his brow and bit his check as the story took an uncomfortable turn. Warden shook his head without saying anything as if he knew what Baron was thinking.

"We both know what Burbank would have done to the kid. fingers would be the least of his worries anyway. What I'm getting at is we are damn worse monsters than the Gray. At least they kill for food and not...whatever the fuck we do." Warden leaned back in his chair as he finished his story.

"Can't say we're monsters when we aren't the ones making the call." Baron tried to reason as needed to make some sort of sense of all the violence.

"Bullshit." Warden bit back which Baron hadn't expected.

"We got a choice the same as anyone else." Warden continued.

"We're doing what's best for the survival of the species." Baron shrugged as if to convey his lack of enthusiasm for the direction the conversation was taking.

"Mhmm." Warden simply answered. They both sensed no satisfying conclusion would come from this as an argument in ethics was not uncommon among the Venator ranks. They just had to keep it out of earshot of the BDF, who knows what they would do if they suspected a mutiny.

After a lengthy period of silence where Baron swore he heard Rose punching someone in the barracks, they started talking about more trivial matters. The newest meal being served in the mess hall, potentially new equipment, rumors overheard from Bastion residents and whatever else they could use to distract themselves until frozen in Cryo or the next mission came. Baron knew deep down that they were meant for something more than this. Raiding the weak and serving the corrupt hardly seemed like a fitting existence but it was the only one they'd known there entire lives. Something needed to change he just didn't know what or how.