Chapter Text
“Man, it is hot as dicks out today.”
Geoff Ramsey squinted up at the sky as if that would fix things, pushing his hat back to scratch at his scalp. He hated how the sweat made him itch.
“For once, I agree with the use of that phrase,” his friend, a burly man with a beard befitting their job description, grunted as the business end of his axe sank into the sturdy trunk of the tree before him. With a groan, it began to fall and the man took a step back, calling out a warning.
It was his fourth tree of the day. Geoff was still on his first.
“Damnit, Jack, slow the fuck down. You’re making the rest of us look bad,” Geoff grumbled, prompting the other man to roll his eyes.
“If you would stop staring at the sky or kicking at the ground or sighing like a damn teenager, you could keep up. What’s up with you today, man?” Jack asked.
Geoff sighed one of those deep sighs and pulled his cap back onto his head. “Griffon has an appointment today. They’re checking on the baby. I’m just… shit. Winter was rough, man. She’s gotten so… so skinny, you know?”
Jack knew better than most how hard winters could be. He’d lost his wife just last year, one of several who were taken by pneumonia. This year, they’d been a bit luckier—there was no massive outbreak of disease, but…
The winters in Oakvale had been getting progressively worse for several years. Relentless demands from the Capital meant that many men spent the entire winter out chopping down trees, preparing lumber for transport. Even the women, who normally spent their time indoors tending to chores, found themselves outside with the men for the majority of the day, children and the elderly helping as much as they could.
Normally, what they lacked in timber they could make up for in crops or livestock, but the ground had been tilled and used so often that no amount of crop rotation could help it anymore-they had been forced to move their fields several miles from the city last spring, deeper into the peninsula where the ground was more fertile (and the beasts more feral).
Their livestock had fared far better, but what they failed to send to Elysium in crops and lumber, they had to make up somehow, so the town of Oakvale, at 300 strong, had been living off rations for a town half that size for months.
Griffon had been giving up her own rations to save children and the sick for quite some time before they knew she was pregnant. She had gone a week solid consuming only water and stale heels of bread before realizing that her morning routine of rushing to the bathroom to vomit was more than just an outbreak of the flu.
That had been two months ago. Unfortunately, even with Geoff giving her half of his own allotments, his wife had still not put on a single pound, unable to stop working long enough to ensure the safety of their baby.
Jack gave his friend a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, murmuring an apology—he knew how long Geoff and Griffon had been trying for a child. He hated seeing his friends like this, so worried and helpless, but he knew that offering empty words of support would do nothing. So he squeezed Geoff’s shoulder, told him he was there for him no matter what came of this, and looked away as Geoff’s eyes glazed over.
“She’s supposed to be back from the hunting trip today, right?” Jack asked, digging his axe into another tree. When Geoff spoke, his voice was clear, so Jack looked over his shoulder and watched as his friend picked at the scars and blisters on his hands.
“Yeah. She got back this morning as I was walking out the door. She looked…” Geoff trailed off, a bit helplessly, and shrugged, unsure how to describe how Griffon had looked. Honestly, with her frighteningly small frame, the pallor that only starvation could give, the empty eyes of the truly impoverished, of those always surrounded by death and disease… Even though she gave him a sunny smile and a peck, Geoff couldn’t help but notice that she looked haunted. They all did.
He wished he’d had time to stay and talk to her, to give her the comfort that she needed but wouldn’t ask for, but he was already running late. And in times of hunger like this, a five-minute pay cut could easily be the difference between life and death. So he’d left his wife and her sad eyes, vowing to himself to make it up to her when he got home.
Jack’s elbow in his ribs snapped him out of his reverie. Geoff groaned good-naturedly as he watched another tree fall and followed the redhead to the next one, ribbing him about being a goddamned machine. Jack made sure to keep his friend busy, but that uneasiness followed Geoff for the rest of the day.
“Griffon?” Geoff called as he stepped into the house. The smell of cooking meat surprised him and his stomach clenched so hard he nearly lost his breath, the physical ache of hunger making him lean against the doorframe for a moment. It passed soon enough (it always did) and Geoff followed his nose into the kitchen.
Griffon looked up as he entered and gave him a smile. She set her tongs down and covered a pan to let the meat finish cooking, making her way over to her husband and wrapping her thin arms around his neck. “Welcome home,” she said.
“Likewise,” he replied, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. It had been nearly a week since he’d last seen her—going on a hunt nearly always kept her away that long. “What is that?”
“Rabbit,” Griffon answered simply, turning away to baste the meat again.
Geoff waited for some elaboration, and when none was forthcoming, he grinned. “You Robin Hooded this, didn’t you?”
“You bet your ass I did. Now set the table and let me tell you about the appointment.”
They were having a girl.
Geoff wanted to name her something classy and refined, a sardonic joke given the state of their town and the appearance of her parents.
Griffon was not amused. She wanted to name her after her own grandmother, a kind woman who often sacrificed her own comfort for that of her family. With an argument like that, there was no way Geoff could refuse, really.
So their little girl was much anticipated and already well loved, talked about all throughout the beginning of spring on a daily (almost hourly) basis with anyone who would listen—most often Uncle Jack. She was already the apple of Geoff’s eye.
It was the best spring Geoff and Griffon could remember.
That summer, drought hit southern Arcadia hard.
The people of Oakvale rationed while they could, but livestock care little for the constraints of human society and crops do not understand the concept of conservation.
By midsummer, Geoff was skipping as many meals as he could to give his rations to Griffon. Much as she wanted to refuse the food, they had been trying for a baby for so long. She wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize their little girl.
Griffon got thinner but her belly grew, and even if Geoff went to bed with his stomach aching, body wracked with hunger pangs each night… All he had to do was put his hand on his wife’s stomach, rest his palm on his baby girl, and it was all worth it.
It rained for the first time in months one day in early July. If Geoff had a poetic bone in his body, he could have reflected on how it seemed the world itself wept with him, with his wife, as he held her on the floor of their bathroom.
Perhaps he could have found the right words to comfort Griffon. Maybe he could have found some way to bring her a modicum of peace, a big of a reprieve from the constant, steady onslaught of sorrow.
But he was no poet. So instead of feeding her pretty lines, he cradled her against him, pushed her hair back away from her face as she vomited again and again. He covered himself in her blood and tears as her body, wracked with pain and half-starved, rejected the life growing inside it. He let his own tears fall slow, thick, silent down his face as he wiped away hers.
And he thought, Something has to change.
Barren.
It was a word he was used to, really. Barren land, barren crops, barren livestock, all things he had come to know well in this day and age.
In that context, it was an inconvenience. New, fertile land had to be found, cleared, tilled, and seeded. New crops had to be planted. New livestock had to be purchased and transported from other towns.
People would die from these inconveniences, inevitably, but that just meant fewer mouths to feed, which was often a blessing, as fucked up as that was.
Barren.
Funny how a different perspective could so dramatically alter a word.
He held his wife again that night, but neither of them cried. Griffon was too tired, too numb to cry anymore.
Geoff was too furious.
Something has to change.
The idea came to him one day during their lunch break, which, at this point, was really just when a lot of the guys stood around and shot the shit for an hour.
He was listening to John, one of his oldest friends and the father of four, explain the lengths he and his wife had to go to in times like this to keep their family alive. Even now, with the winter as harsh as it had been and the drought right on its heels, their youngest was getting thinner by the day.
The plan was nearly fully formed by the end of lunch, and against his better judgment, he opened his big mouth to Jack once they were alone.
“I’m going to the Capital.”
Jack paused mid-swing, his eyes swiveling to land on Geoff. “You’re what now?”
“I’m going to the Capital.” Geoff leaned on the handle of his axe and leveled Jack with a steady look.
“… Uh, why? No one who goes there comes back, man, you know that. You really thing Griffon won’t have a problem with this?”
To be honest, Geoff hadn’t really thought of that, though now that Jack had brought it up, the solution seemed simple. “I’ll tell her I’m going to Columbia, or Rapture, for food. We have extra money—a pretty decent amount—so it’d at least be believable.”
“Yeah, except that Columbia and Rapture are suffering from the same drought we are,” Jack said, shaking his head and getting back to his work.
Geoff frowned. Columbia was certain to be affected, sure, but Rapture was right on the river. As one of the largest cities in Arcadia (not to mention the very first city on the Road to Utopia from the Bay of Champions), they were certain to at least be living comfortably. Hell, they were probably the only city in the south whose inhabitants were still eating well.
“And when you never come back? What about Griff? How do you think that’s going to make her feel after… after everything?” Jack asked. His face was set in a deep, angry scowl. For a moment, Geoff felt a pang of guilt. Jack had lost his wife, the love of his life, because of circumstances beyond his control. Even though he had just lost his little girl, he still had Griffon. Jack…
Geoff could understand why his friend was angry at the idea of him willingly leaving Griffon. He could, really. But if something didn’t change, and soon, he knew it was just a matter of time before he lost her, too.
“I have to do this, Jack. How many more husbands or wives or kids have to die before someone gets off their ass and does something? We aren’t the only place suffering, man, we can’t be,” Geoff insisted, going to work on the tree beside Jack’s. Hitting the wood, destroying something like this, was cathartic in the way only destruction can be. He felt his rage bleed away a bit more with every strike until only exertion was causing his heavy breathing.
They were silent for a long while after that. Geoff assumed Jack had just dismissed his idea, which was fine. If he didn’t take him seriously, he wouldn’t try to stop him. When the redhead chose to speak again, though, he took Geoff completely by surprise.
“It sounds like… what you’re suggesting sounds like the beginnings of a revolution.”
Revolution. The word hung in the air for a moment.
A revolution. Yeah, it does. “Don’t be ridiculous, man.”
Jack went on as though he’d heard the thought that flit through Geoff’s head. “Of course, if you intend to do that, a simple chit-chat won’t really do, will it? I mean, I doubt the Overlord will listen to reason now, not if he hasn’t for thirty years,” he mused.
If anything is going to get better, it isn’t going to be because of a little chat over tea. No, someone has to take that guy down. “Maybe he’s getting soft in his old age. I mean, if someone just sits down and talks to him rationally—“
Jack buried his axe in the trunk of his tree and stared hard at Geoff. “We have to kill him.”
“We?” Geoff glanced around, making sure they were out of earshot of their coworkers. “Since when were you going with me? Someone has to watch out for Griff while I’m gone.”
“And you expect me to just let you go, alone, all the way across the damned continent to try and take the Tower yourself. In essence, you want me to watch my two best friends—my only living family—die?” Jack had somehow managed to keep his tone conversational, but Geoff could see his anger, his frustration and helplessness, in the tightening around the younger man’s eyes. Jack had never been one to sit around and let other people take care of his problems.
Geoff heaved a sigh. “You realize that what you’re suggesting is the highest form of treason, right?”
“No. Sitting on a perch at the top of the world, watching as your subjects starve and die—that is the highest form of treason.”
With a second person around, Geoff had to admit it was significantly easier to plan out his course of action. The two decided to keep their intent secret, doing all their planning away from Griffon.
For several weeks, Jack and Geoff stockpiled as much food as they could without arousing suspicion. They bought maps of Arcadia (neither had been further north than Rapture), got new weapons that would last longer than a week, and finished it off with some light but durable armor. They stored everything at Jack’s house in the interim, mapping out their route on the most detailed of their maps (though it was hardly what anyone could call comprehensive—Geoff made a mental note to find a new map in Columbia).
Finally, four weeks after the initial idea was birthed, Geoff and Jack were ready. He approached Griffon early one morning, his lie well-rehearsed and ready to be explained. As usual, she beat him to the punch.
“Whatever you’re doing, I’m going.”
Geoff scrambled for a response to that. “I-what? Jack and I are just going to Rapture to try and get some—“
“Bullshit.”
“Wh—“
“You’re shit at lying to me, Geoffrey Lazer Ramsey. You’ve been giving me these baleful, sorry eyes for weeks. Don’t you dare try to tell me you’re ‘just going to Rapture.’ Even if that were true, I wouldn’t let you leave without me. I just lost my child; I will not risk losing my husband.”
Geoff looked at Griffon there, so small and fragile but every bit the strong, determined woman he’d married, and felt a rush of love for her that was so strong that it physically pained him. And he realized in that moment that he didn’t want to go without her.
“It’ll be dangerous.”
Griffon smiled beatifically as she pulled a freshly hewn bow and a full quiver of arrows from the closet. “I thought this was just a routine trip to Rapture,” she teased, a full pack of food and clothing following her weapons.
“Yeah… Yeah, okay, about that.”
When he met Jack half ah hour later with Griffon at his side, the redhead just smiled and pulled out the map.
Even at a leisurely pace, it only took a day and a half to reach Columbia, a small town situated between Oakvale and Rapture. With their lose proximity to both Rapture and the river, this town was handling the drought far better than Oakvale.
The smell of cooking meat punched Geoff in the stomach about half a mile out of town, and by the time the small group had crossed Columbia’s threshold, even Griffon’s stomach was growling audibly.
It was with much self-control and much more regret that they passed the inns and restaurants, their eyes lingering but constantly moving on, searching out one shop in particular.
“There—“ Jack said as he pointed to a simple, hand-carved sign that read ‘Haywood—cartographer.’
“Hopefully he has something of real use. The maps you guys got are shit,” Griffon muttered, waving off the indignant replies of Jack and Geoff as she pushed open the door. “All I’m saying is if you knew there was a cartographer here, why did you even waste time with those useless scraps of parchment from Old Tom? He can hardly find his own house anymore and it’s attached to his shop.”
“Look, we had to know roughly how we were going to get to the Capital before we left—“ Geoff started, but a gentle cough made him snap his mouth shut.
“So you folks are going to the Capital?” a tall, blond guy asked as he stepped out from behind a shelf, straightening a small pile of rolled parchment.
Geoff glared. “Why are you eavesdropping?”
The man lifted an eyebrow. “You literally shouted it. I’m pretty sure the people on the street heard you. I’m assuming you need a better map?”
Before Geoff could snark back, Jack spoke up, rolling his eyes at his friend as he said, “Yes. Please. Preferably detailed ones.”
The stranger smiled a genuine, charming smile, offering his hand to all three in turn. When Griffon took it, he stooped to kiss the back of her hand. “My name is Ryan. I’ll be pleased to help you however I can. What’s the nature of your trip to Elysium?”
“Business,” Griffon answered at the same moment Geoff said, “Family vacation.”
Jack put his head in his hands.
Ryan, to his credit, kept whatever suspicion he may have felt to himself, hiding it behind a smile. “Let’s just look through the more detailed ones. I’m sure there’s something here you can use.”
Ryan ended up being a valuable asset. He had a photographic memory, so he was able to point out unmarked trails and abandoned but still useable roads on each of his maps.
They replaced all of the maps they’d brought with them and Ryan, understanding the plight of poverty, gave them a discount for trading them in as well as a place to stay the night.
“Will your wife mind?” Griffon asked. She regretted it immediately. Ryan’s smile faded, his gaze turning to the ground.
“She… uh, I’m not married,” he said and cleared his throat. No one bothered to ask for clarification.
He led them to a humble but well-kept house on the outskirts of town. Though it was small, it was large enough to house both a spare bedroom and an extra bed, which Ryan implored them to use. He even made them a hearty dinner that filled them up for the first time in months.
For several hours after that, they stayed up and talked. It came out that Ryan had originally lived in Elysium and that yes, he had been married. He’d even had a son, a five-year-old that had been his pride and joy. He explained Reapings, the price the Capital city made for living in peace and excess. How once a year, two people would go missing, one male and one female—“sacrifices to the eternal bounty of Elysium.”
They had never been from the same family before.
His wife had taken their son to the market one day. She’d kissed Ryan goodbye, told him they’d only be ten minutes, and laughed as their son chased her, demanding to go with Mommy because he wanted a new toy. Ryan had watched them go, a smile on his face, and turned back to making dinner.
They never came home.
The rest of the night was spent in a similar fashion—Jack talked about Caiti, Geoff and Griffon about their unborn baby girl. Ryan joked at one point that someone should go to the Capital and take back the Tower.
An uncomfortable, awkward silence fell. Griffon chose that moment to stand and stretch.
“I’m beat,” she said, offering her hand to her husband. “Let’s go to bed.”
“Yeah,” Geoff said, standing and taking her hand. Jack, who had offered to sleep on the floor in their room, also bade Ryan a good night.
Ryan watched them go with guarded eyes and a curious smile.
“So we take this route through the Citadel, then—that looks to be the fastest, and it should deposit us right beside the Central Outpost. If we need to restock on weapons or food, we should be able to do it from there.” Geoff stood over the new map the next morning, pointing at a now visible route while Jack sharpened his axe on a strip of sturdy leather.
Griffon, who was critically eying the suggested path, murmured, “We need to be cautious about raiding anything, especially outposts. Those will have soldiers in them, and it would be pretty dumb to die before we even get to the Capital.”
“There aren’t just soldiers in those outposts.” Jack swore as he dropped his axe.
“How the hell would you know, Jack, you’ve never—“ Geoff looked up to see Ryan at the kitchen door. “Oh. Wow, you… man, you sound just like Jack.”
“Sorry?” Ryan said, stepping in and pointing to the Southern Outpost. “I’ve been in this one, and if the others are set up at all similarly—which, to be fair, is decently unlikely—there are security cameras, alarms, and automated traps. Going in blind would be suicide.”
Geoff gave Ryan a long look. “If you’re suggesting something, spit it out, man. I don’t do subtlety.”
“I can only assume, after last night’s conversation and this discussion, that the business you’re taking care of in the Capitol has something to do with the Overlord.” Ryan spat the title out like it tasted bad in his mouth.
The other three neither confirmed nor denied this. Ryan nodded. “You gonna kill him?”
Silence.
“I want in.”
So they set off for Rapture with one more in tow. Along the way, Ryan explained what they could expect from the outpost. Though it was the one nearest the bay, it was also furthest from Elysium, and thus was often understaffed and in disrepair. Five years ago, the last time Ryan had been there, only half of the security cameras had been functional.
They took their time along the well-worn trail from Columbia to Rapture. As they walked, they quietly planned, assigning jobs for each member of the group. Griffon, with her exceptional marksman abilities, would take out any guards on the outside. Jack would stand lookout, watch for reinforcements coming from town, and make sure that they didn’t make it back to the outpost. Geoff and Ryan would infiltrate the building, avoid the cameras, grab some guns and ammo, and get the hell outta dodge.
If all went well, they would be in and out in little more than two hours.
They wouldn’t let themselves consider what would happen if things went awry.
Night fell on the sprawling city of Rapture. Two miles out of the city limits, a ragtag group of four revolutionary wannabes slunk through the grass, clinging to the shadows cast by the large walls around the Southern Outpost.
They approached it from the back, hyperaware of all movements and noises around them. Geoff glanced up to see if there were any guards posted on the wall, but it appeared as though this wall was just that—a simple wall—and they wouldn’t have to worry about guards in the crenellations.
The cameras on each corner seemed to still be in working order, but with blind spots the size of a herd of horses. Ryan had little problem in getting them around those. He tucked them into one of said blind spots while Griffon poked her head around the final corner. There was one guard on watch at the front gate. The guy stood at attention, but it was a lax stance. He was clearly on another planet.
He didn’t hear the high whine of Griffon’s bowstring as she loosed it. The arrow sank deep into the side of his neck, pierced his larynx and destroyed his voice box, and nicked his jugular. It stuck through his neck, point jutting through one side and feathers through the other. The soldier sank to his knees, fingers scrabbling at his neck for a few moments as he tried to scream but only managed a weak gurgle.
Griffon looked away.
When she next checked, the man was dead, a pool of red spreading around him that was quickly being swallowed up by the dry, greedy ground.
When she tried to round the corner, Geoff grabbed her arm and whispered, “Wait. Make sure no one’s gonna come and check this out.”
For several breathless minutes they held their positions, until finally Jack murmured, “I don’t think anyone’s coming. The camera at the entrance must be out.”
The relief that realization brought with it was palpable. For the first time, Geoff had real hope that they wouldn’t leave here empty-handed… or in chains. Still, they exercised extreme caution as they crept to the gate’s opening. Inside the courtyard was empty. There were no guards at the front door.
A chill shot up Geoff’s spine. Before the older man could voice his concerns, Jack muttered, “This is all wrong.”
Ryan nodded, his grip on his sword tightening. Griffon nocked an arrow.
“We need to take this opportunity while we have it. Regardless of what’s in there, their security is lax as hell out here. We couldn’t have asked for an easier in. Everyone take your positions. Don’t forget what we discussed, and don’t fucking hesitate to take a motherfucker out. They sure as hell won’t give you that favor. Let’s do this,” Geoff ordered. Despite all misgivings, everyone jumped to it. Griffon, who no longer had to worry about the guards on the outside, scaled the wall like a cat and perched atop it to help Jack with lookout.
Geoff and Ryan glanced at one another and took a collective, deep breath before pushing open the sturdy oak doors.
Inside was just as deserted as out and Geoff took a moment to shake out the nervous shiver that shot through him.
“This way,” Ryan whispered, hugging the wall as he jogged down the hallway. Geoff tossed a glance over his shoulder and followed Ryan, his pulse loud in his own ears. This is wrong. This is wrong. Where is everyone?
“Here!” Ryan hissed after a few minutes of jogging and avoiding cameras. The younger man darted to the far side of the armory, peeking around the corner into the empty room. There were two cameras in opposite corners of the room, both facing the door, but they were arranged so that there was a small but noticeable gap between their views. Ryan shook his head and smiled as Geoff snorted.
“Jesus. This is almost too easy. ‘Here, please take our shit—we really don’t want it, we’ll just leave it laying out for you—‘”
“Shut up and let’s get what we need,” Ryan said, exasperated.
Geoff snorted again and stepped into the room. As soon as he cleared the threshold, a light beeping picked up. The older man hardly noticed it, but Ryan’s reaction was immediate. The blond sucked in a sharp breath and spun around, eyes frantically scanning the walls.
In a dark corner on the same wall as the door, half-secluded by a stack of ammunition, was a motion-activated camera. It was following their every move. Ryan didn’t have to look to know that every camera in the building was now pointed at this room.
“Fuck. Fuck, not good, shit.”
Geoff turned quickly and followed Ryan’s gaze. When his eyes lit upon the camera, he froze.
“How long do we have?” he asked, grabbing a rifle and taking aim.
“No! No, don’t shoot it, that will trigger the alarm. We have thirty seconds—we can at least get out of this room and make it halfway to the door—“
“Isn’t there a way to… to, fuck, turn them off or something?!” Geoff snapped, grabbing as much ammo for the rifle as he could find and shoving it into his bag.
“Yes, there’s a-a panel outside this room—by the door, but—“
“Then shut it down—“
“I don’t know how—“
“You said you could—“
“I said I knew where they were, not how to disable—“ Ryan felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as the beeping stopped.
Geoff held his breath for only a moment before whispering, “Run.”
They tore out of the room as the hallway was flooded with light and a shrill, piercing siren rent the night. Several sets of footsteps thundered along behind them—and even though they were running for their lives, literally, Geoff noticed that there could only be ten at the most.
Where the hell is everyone?
“Run!” Geoff shouted as they cleared the front door, dashing to his wife who had climbed down from the wall the moment she’d heard the alarm.
He took her hand as a bullet ricocheted off the wall by his head. Another kicked up dirt by Jack’s feet. Together, the four took off into the night, the soldiers hot on their heels.