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fc5holidayexchange · 4 years

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FAR CRY 5 HOLIDAY EXCHANGE 2019 FIC

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Title: Gävlebocken

Deputy Mattie Covington/Sharky Boshaw- Mattie and Sharky reunite after a failed trip to burn the Gavle Goat

@ma-sulevin

Hi Kate! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, wherever you are and however you're celebrating! Hope the festive season is full of joy and magic! I had a fabulous time writing Mattie and Sharky together and I hope you enjoy reading it! xxxx

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“All I’m saying, shorty, is never leave a man behind. Marilyn Manson and Carly Rae Jepson wanted to go torch some Gävlebocken butt too, y’know? And who was I to deny them their Bejeebus given right as Incendiary-Americans?”

Mattie cuddled the red-cheeked pyromaniac closer into her chest as she eased his sorrows on the couch. He hadn’t stopped blushing since she’d collected him from Missoula International Airport, where he’d been marched from the building between the firm grip of two unforgiving, no doubt underpaid TSA officers, cuffed at the wrist and short two of his beloved (and musically christened) flamethrowers.

“... you know, they probably sell flamethrowers in Sweden. You could have got one when you got there. Or matches. Shit, there’s plenty of sticks you could have rubbed together too.” She mused, trying to make light of the situation.

Sharky Boshaw was having none of it.

“Nuh-uh, no-can-do. Had to be them, babe.”

“Only the best for the holy grail of goat effigies, I guess?”

He nodded and crushed his face into her.

She couldn’t tell if the residual ruby tinge on his face was from the trauma of his ordeal (though he was hardly a stranger to arrest), from the abundance of alcohol still in his system, or from where the ravenous teeth of a cold winter beast had nibbled at him. December had fallen, and the snow was up to their knees. The smell of evergreen firs and smoky chimneys and roasting meat and fresh gingerbread permeated across the county. Even the sickly scent of Bliss had subsided, the cold-sensitive Georgia peaches known locally as the Seeds having retreated indoors for the season.

Christmas was coming.

Boshaw Manor’s festive decorations were tacky and yet, made with love. The Christmas tree was a little scorched on the edges, and adorned with homemade ornaments that were just beer tops looped onto string. They twinkled rainbow in the glow from the string lights, and tinkled as they clinked against each other. Paper chains and worn tinsel in emerald and silver shades hung from every available surface, and though he had no fireplace, he’d dragged a metal bin into the centre of the living room so they could roast chestnuts and make smores through the long winter nights.

However, Sharky’s favourite holiday accessory was a slightly dusty Santa figurine. He had, at some point, made the toymaker his own little flamethrower from aluminium foil, and the rotund, bushy bearded fellow still clung to it with his moth-eaten mittens, ready to chargrill Rudolph. But truly the highlight of Santa’s unusual skillset, the crown jewel in his sleigh full of secret talents, was the voice recording feature.

From the depths of Santa’s cookie filled belly, Sharky’s voice echoed:

“Burn baby burn… CHRISTMAS INFERNO”

And now, the jolly figure danced laboriously by the door, Boomer resting beside him, snoring along to the increasingly demonic rasp (Mattie made a mental note to replace the batteries).

Of course, this year, Mattie had put her own little touches on the place.

When he’d first taken her in, Earl had given her a little archangel statue, with beautiful, expansive wings, and a majestic flaming blade in it’s right hand, and her name engraved upon it. ‘Matilda means mighty in battle’ he’d explained, pulling her into a hug to assure her of just how strong she was. And last year, Nancy had knitted her a little yellow star, gold flecked through it, to sit atop the tree, and now it sat pride of place, shimmering like the true holy light.

It was slightly overwhelming, to see her things, however few, amongst Sharky’s.

To know that now, she and Sharky could make Christmas memories together.

That was the best gift of all.

And normally, snuggled together on a winter’s night like this, she’d be teasing him, slipping her chilled hands down the back of his shirt, or tickling his neck which made him squirm and giggle the most, or even sticking an icy naked foot into his face when he wasn’t paying attention. Or she’d be letting her hands wander into his pants, and they’d be making love and basking in each other’s glow until the sun came up.

But the sheer misery welling in his eyes, Christmas dreams obliterated and Hall of Flame pedestals empty, like a baby bird beak without a worm to sate it’s hunger, sent a pang of guilt ricocheting through every inch of her. One that made her stomach squirm and her lip quiver. He was her family, and though her dad back in Challis hadn’t exactly been the model of perfect, or even the model of good, she knew with all the certainty in her heart that families weren’t supposed to look so despairing at Christmas.

“What were you thinking, Shark?”

“I, uh… I wanted to surprise you.”

“And you thought running off to Europe to go burn down a giant goat was the best way to do that? I’d have taken socks instead, you know. Or a John Seed's head on a spike.”

She moved to hold his hand, fingers intertwining comfortingly, and he sniffed loudly in appreciation. Mattie felt so complete when her hand was nestled in his- who needed gloves to when you had a hand to hold?

"Just because Hurk nearly got Wicker-manned out in Europe, doesn't mean you have to."

He mumbled in reply, sheepishly resigned to his deeper urges- "I'm a Khaleesi. I go where the flame takes me."

She chuckled softly and teased:

“I know, babe. I know. Who do you think is the one who prints the posters? The whole station is more like a groupie's bedroom."

Mattie cursed the day she’d so catastrophically put her foot in it. A late night drinking and feasting up in the Whitetails, near Fort Drubman, out under the stars and the bleak winter moonlight. A slew of cultist corpses were ragdolled along the path behind them, definitely not having a Merry Christmas, and a skinned Judge or two had fallen prey to Jess’s hungry trapper knife. The pelts would make a fine coat for next year’s snowfall and the burgundy branding of Jacob’s chosen mutts was simply an added trophy for Mattie’s slightly feral friend.

There they were. Mattie, Sharky, Hurk, Jess, and Staci (who'd called in sick from his night shift), with Boomer and Cheeseburger at their heels.

Munching on fish from the iced over rivers.

Getting drunk out of their minds and trying to forget all the shit that the past months had wrought.

The topic of conversation had turned to (what else) fire. They’d just proudly set alight to the old lumber mill, and watched the Peggies scatter like roaches from the scene. Merry on Whistling Beaver beer, Mattie had hiccoughed and giggled after her umpteenth bottle, snuggled under Sharky's arm, and announced loudly:

“Did you guys know there’s a huge ass wicker goat in Sweden? They put it up for Christmas every year and it keeps getting toasted.”

Well, it’s not like she’d expected him to take off a week later towards the airport… after he’d downed probably somewhere near a keg's worth of homemade eggnog… all rum, barely an egg or a nog in sight.

But Charlemagne Victor Boshaw’s eyes had illuminated with possibility, and so had the eyes of the airport security officers at the sizable lethal and flammable weapons he’d packed into his luggage. Having the fuzz for a girlfriend, who could come flaunting an arrest warrant and claim jurisdiction over the prisoner was an absolute saving grace, it turned out. The TSA had handed him over with very little resistance.

And now, here they were, back home in the depths of the county, almost definitely up a couple of places on the ‘no fly’ terror watchlist.

Sharky sat up suddenly and rubbed at his slightly runny nose, a sudden determination taking root in his chest. Spring coming early as a flower bloomed there, petals of fury and vengeance and abject loyalty to his cause.

"We gotta get Carly and Marilyn back. We gotta Ocean’s Eight, Sandra Bullock the airport, po-po. You and me, Hurk, sure we can get Nick and Kim on the crew too, what are we up to, five, Boshaw’s five, Sharky’s five-?“

Mattie nuzzled her face into the top of his head. She was a hell of a lot shorter than him, but he’d sunk into the couch so deeply that she could now smell the scent of his Old Spice shampoo and see the bald patch where he'd thought wearing a crown made of sparklers at Thanksgiving fireworks was a good idea.

“Yeah, I’m sure a woman heavily into her third trimester is gonna really be up for a heist-“

“Kim? Fuck yeah, she can kick butt with a bump, her centre of gravity’s probably on kung fu master levels here. Ooooh, maybe the baby’ll come early and kick some airport ass too.”

“I think it’ll be more like she’ll kick your butt for not inviting me along to go torch the goat."

It was crazy, knowing that next Christmas, there would be a Baby Rye for Santa to visit. And that maybe, in the Christmases to come, there'd be a brood of Baby Boshaws too, ready to tear the tree down and hurl food at each other, giddy in their festive hysteria. She thought about sharing such a fanciful idea with him, and went to murmur a few sweet suggestions in his ruddy ear. Maybe they could make some new dreams tonight...

Sharky wasn’t listening though.

“Maybe we go Die Hard 2 instead… be in keeping with the ol’ time of year?”

“All the guys who break into the airport die in that movie, Shark.”

She sighed and stroked his cheek.

"I think, maybe, as much as it sucks, we just have to let this one go."

He went to open his mouth to protest or beg or maybe come out with another heist movie to take inspiration from, but the words seemed to fizzle away on the end of his tongue. He knew it was futile. She was right. His visions of making the headlines in every Swedish tabloid evaporated, his name destined not to be heralded by enthusiasts of the Gävlebocken legacy. His shoulders sagged and he seemed to want to disappear into his worn green sweatshirt, like a turtle burrowing back into its shell.

"Hey, y'know, who wants to go smoke the goat anyway, much better things to burn here. Seeds and shit."

He settled into moody, reflective, uncharacteristic silence and Mattie knew not to push the subject any further. And while searching her thoughts for a way to soothe his wounds and bring the hope and joy of the festive season back into his heart, she casually leaned over to the table and picked up his abandoned plane ticket, also slightly singed like everything else the man owned (what had happened this time, Mattie couldn’t even begin to guess).

Her stomach dropped.

The rollercoaster was taking an unexpected plunge deeper into irony.

There it was, printed neatly under DESTINATION.

A final foil for the Sharknado that had sought to wreak havoc across the fjords of Scandinavia.

“Shark, babe…”

“Yeah?”

“The big ass goat is in Sweden, right? You know, next to Norway?”

“Home of the dancing queen an' the smorgasbord. Oooh, and the chef.” He proceeded to spit out a garbled string of vowels in poor imitation of the Swedish language.

Mattie sighed and for a moment, debated whether to just keep her mouth shut. To let his Christmas dreams, however shattered, maintain some form of dignity. But laughter pulled at the corners of her mouth, from the singsong Muppetry in her ear and the ridiculous error before her eyes and she just knew it would make him laugh too;

“... Shark, this ticket is for Switzerland.”

He gave her a little confused frown and she wrapped her arms around his neck, to press her forehead, and then her lips softly to his.

“God, I love you so much.”

He returned her kiss, sharing her warmth and the sweet taste of hot cocoa and a sprig of mint and melted marshmallow, running his hands through her wind-swept hair. They lost themselves in each other, forgetting the snow falling fast outside, and the bodies across the county buried deep amongst the icy grass, and the slowly fading tire tracks from their long journey home.

And wrapped in the comforting embrace of her best friend, Mattie’s imagination shone.

A flame taking to the tinder, spreading until it burned so strongly, it could never be extinguished.

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"My extremities are getting real cold, chica, an' I'm too young to lose my junk t’ frostbite."

"Don't worry, you'll be warm soon enough."

"Heh heh, sounds like a party."

Mattie had led Sharky through the dark forestry, the trees naked and sparse like a threadbare patchwork blanket. They'd walked for some time, boots snapping the carpet of fallen branches and crunching in the deep snow and squeaking over patches of icy oil spills across the roads, until they'd reached a pasture south of the Henbane.

And now, in the early hours of the morning, he stood blindfolded, Mattie's hands protectively on his shoulders (although she'd been tempted to mischievously let him wander into a patch of shrubbery or two, but decided she didn't want to be pulling thorns and thistles out of his ass all night).

"Are we there yet?"

"Almost."

A few more steps, up a slight incline, the frozen grass snapping underfoot.

“OK, you can look now.”

Sharky tore off the blindfold in childlike impatience and his eyes widened at the sight he beheld.

Before them, silhouetted by the amber light from surrounding torches and the staring full moon, stood a large wicker goat.

A Gävlebocken… well, a Hopebocken.

A warm earthy brown, as though the trees hadn’t perished weeks before, with bark flaking from it to make the fur seem shaggy, thick, truly like a majestic beast from the hills of Scandinavia, with fleece enough to shroud a Viking king. Horns magnificent upon its head, red and gold Christmas ribbons adorning them like Roman wreaths. His nose was round and his face was long and he stood watch upon the hill, noble, a guardian, a protector.

And at his feet were gathered the artists of this crudely fashioned idol. Nick and Kim, Hurk and Adelaide and Xander, Dutch and Jess, Jerome and Mary May, Virgil and Wade and Eli and Tammy and Merle… it seemed the whole county, faces beaming and hands willing, had stepped forward to play their part in Sharky's Christmas miracle.

Mattie watched Sharky take a stunned step forward.

"I wanted to surprise you." She whispered into his ear, taking his hand and giving it a little squeeze.

And there was that smile she loved so much. His eyes crinkled in the corners and a laugh catapulted itself from deep in his throat into the night air. It rose like a ball of light, and exploded into a thousand stars to light the county and every county beyond it.

"I… I…" He stammered, pupils dilated, entranced, and he turned back to face the love of his life, choking on the wonderment and the realisation of just what she had done for him. “I can…?”

“You bet.”

“And I ain’t gonna get arrested?”

“Like that’s bothered you before?” She grinned and watched as he jumped and whooped, punching the air. Overwhelmed with adrenaline. Crying her name to the heavens, unabashedly proclaiming how much he loved her and all who had come to give him this gift.

“Shark… Shark?”

His head spunt to gaze at her.

An almost breathless gasp escaped him.

And the look on his face made Mattie want to throw herself upon him and never let go.

In her outstretched arms, lay a new flamethrower, blue and purple disco graffiti emblazoned on the side, and a big red bow ornately tied along the neck. She carefully placed it in his hands, and he weighed it, mesmerized, feeling the perfect balance of the full canister of fuel, and the soon-to-be warmed steel. Tears bloomed in the corners of his as he grasped it. As he readied himself for the greatest bonfire of his life.

“Merry Christmas, babe.”

She placed a careful kiss on his lips.

“Now… go toast that goat.”

#Deputy/Sharky Boshaw #Sharky Boshaw #Deputy oc #Christmas fluff #cuddling #present giving #comforting #mentions of fire and arson #mention of dead bodies #mention of skinning animals #fc5holidayexchange #gift: fic #ma-sulevin #submission

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isobel-thorm · 4 years

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Well, now i have to ask... 1, 4, 5, 16 for my son in law, grant... 👀

1) Would they be recruitable? Absolutely, but he wouldn’t be accessible on the map. You’d have to stumble upon him first.

4) Where would you recruit them from? Initially he comes with the Sheriff’s Department on the arrest, but you see him get taken by Jacob. Along the lines of Falls End having to be rescues vs rescuing themselves, depending on your progress in Jacob’s region you can find him beaten, half-dead at the Veteran’s Center, where he’ll come with you, or if you’ve got a good chunk of progress, he’ll intercept you being captured. The usual arrow-to-the-leg prompt cutscene plays, but it’s an actual bullet and you look up and he’s getting another shot ready and then just about drops the rifle, “Rook?! Christ, I thought it was one of them. ROOK!” and joins you from there.

5) What would their recruitment mission be? Considering the last answer with ‘half-dead’ as Path A, ‘I thought you were one of them’ as B: Path A: Grant’s not leaving the Veteran’s Center without getting the latest prisoners who haven’t been through the trials yet out of there. Fight your way into the Center, free everybody in the first immediate cages, get out. Path B: Makes the Veteran’s Center a capturable outpost, but some plot twist cutscene at the end reveals that the Trials area isn’t at the actual Center but it’s some bunker nowhere near the place and Grant is furious.

16) What’s their idle chatter like? Do they talk a lot (when you arrive on each planet) or do they suddenly say something in some strange places? He doesn’t talk much, but he’ll make the occasional small talk comment. He’ll talk to the Fangs for Hire a lot. At the smaller outpost on Dutch’s island: “Kinda cozy in a weird way. Reminds me of my uncles’ place out in Wyoming.” In any of the random buildings around the Mountains where evidence of Jacob’s brainwashing/some other unsavory stuff is implied at best: “I don’t like this. Can we go?” / “These poor bastards.” / “Rook, promise me one thing. If you can- let me be there when you kill this guy.” / “I’m gonna kill him.” Free-roaming in the mountains: “You know what’s really fuckin’ weird? Take away all the mania, all the... heavy bits of the survivalist bullshit... I think I would’ve gotten along with Jacob.” At Fort Drubman: “Fuck. This guy. I’m his worst nightmare, bisexual but more interested in men, and I’m a soldier. Can’t make up his mind whether he wants me dead or wants to honor me with a car magnet.” / “Hurk Jr drives me insane but he doesn’t deserve THAT as a father.”

#Deputy Grant #amistrio

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deathvalleyqueen · 4 years

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“Fort Drubman ” & “Hurk’s Gate” - Whitetail Mountains

#So obviously doing Jacob's region now #Far Cry 5 screenshots #scenery #farcry 5 screenshots #my edits

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papa-rhys · 5 years

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New Dawn: Where are they now?

Here are my headcanons for what Hope County folk would be up to in New Dawn (if they all survived). I stuck to main characters (catergory 1 and 2) for this and I didn’t count anyone who died in fc5 canon because there’s 100% no chance they’d be in New Dawn and this is meant to be a “what I expect from X character if they appear in ND” thing. If I missed any important people out, then let me know and I’ll see about adding them in!

Holland Valley

Mary May Fairgrave: Lives in Prosperity, even though she doesn’t enjoy it as she can’t quite shake the thought that John used to live there. She runs a makeshift bar in the kitchen. She tells everyone that it’s because it boosts the morale of the people living there, but really it’s because she misses the connection that the Spread Eagle had to her parents. She grew up behind the bar, so in the first 10 or so years after the bombs fell, when she was kept away from the Spread Eagle, she didn’t feel like herself. Making her own replica of the Spread Eagle in John’s old kitchen makes her feel like she’s a little closer to home.

Jerome Jeffries: In charge of Prosperity. He lead a few people to John’s ranch to look for shelter after they crawled out of their bunkers and as the group has steadily grown in size, they all look to him as the founder/man in charge. He doesn’t like to sit indoors and let people do his bidding though, so if he sends someone out on a supply run or a job, he’ll likely go with them. Otherwise, he feels like a bossy control freak who doesn’t care about his people and just has them running around and working themselves to the bone for him. It makes him feel too much like Joseph and he obviously hates that.

Casey Fixman: Casey still cooks for the people of Prosperity primarily (also sending nice home cooked meals to the Wolf’s Den once a week as a treat for the remaining Whitetails), but he also provides valuable knowledge about combat and the inner workings of human beings. He’s a very knowledgeable guy and Jerome can often be found having hush-hush meetings with him behind the kitchen whenever Jerome needs advice on how to handle a problem.

Nick Rye: Nick looks after the kids of Prosperity. He doesn’t fly much anymore as he’s found happiness in other things, like spending time with his family and looking out for the children that were born into this new world. He finds it incredibly rewarding to give them some kind of normality in the form of reading to them or playing hopscotch with them in the grass – things that he believes all kids should do.

Kim Rye: Kim works with Nick as a duo. Whilst he has fun with the kids, she gives them an education. She teaches them basic things, like reading, writing, maths (the important bits), etc. But she also teaches them basic (and age-appropriate) combat. Among other things, she teaches them how to hold a knife, how to fire a gun, and how to break free if someone grabs them. She loves working with the kids and takes pride in knowing that she’s helping them to stay safe. Nick is also super proud of the work she does and tells her everyday, of course.

Carmina Rye: Much to Kim and Nick’s misery, Carmina is a total brawler and is always desperate to go out on runs with the supply team. She wants to explore the world outside the walls of Prosperity and meet new people, often sneaking out of Prosperity and scaring her parents to death. She gets into trouble with Hudson a lot, mainly for silly teenage pranks or generally causing trouble. She likes Wheaty a whole lot and always finds an excuse to go with the trading team when they deliver things to the Wolf’s Den. She denies that it’s a crush, but it 100% is. Safe to say Nick doesn’t like Wheaty much anymore.

Grace Armstrong: Grace runs an adult combat training program. The kids get basic training from Kim, but once they get to a certain age, they move up to the adult tier, where Grace will give them full training. Including, but not limited to: how to use all types of firearm, how to properly use knives, how to fight without weapons, how to free yourself from restraints, different signals used in combat (and what they mean), and how to stealth kill. She’s basically doing the same job as Jacob, except she does it way better than he ever could.

Joey Hudson: Hudson is still a cop! She’d live in Prosperity and she’d patrol the place and make sure that everyone is getting on okay. She’d handle any arguments and disputes that people had, because even though they’re all on the same side, they’re still bound to fight. So she keeps the peace. She has a shorter fuse these days and has a tendency to get mad at people pretty quickly sometimes, but everyone knows what she went through and they cut her some slack, knowing that she doesn’t mean any harm.

Whitetail Mountains

Tammy Barnes: Tammy lives in the Wolf’s Den and still does the same kind of stuff. She “handles” what’s left of the cultists and still looks after Wheaty (who is now 36 years old and still doesn’t do his own laundry). She’s toned it down with the torture in recent years though, and has more time to do mundane things (like cooking, cleaning, and spending time with Wheaty) which she finds a lot of solace in doing. She also managed to find her true calling – knitting copious amounts of scarfs that Wheaty wouldn’t be caught dead in, although he appreciates the sentiment.

Wheaty: Wheaty now runs what’s left of the Whitetail Militia out of the Wolf’s Den. He went straight to the bunker when the bombs hit and after things had settled, he focused his efforts on rounding up as many of the remaining Whitetails as he could, desperate to hold onto Eli’s legacy. Now he trades with Prosperity and offers the help of his men and women should Prosperity ever need it (and vice-versa). When he’s not swamped with work and making sure his people are safe as they scavenge for supplies, he’s winding down by watching old tapes of Eli’s favourite TV show or home videos of Eli and his family celebrating Christmas or birthdays. He also still enjoys his music; often playing records for Tammy - the same ones that the Deputy collected for him all those years ago.

Hurk Jr: Still resides in Fort Drubman, which he’s built upon and fortified since his dad’s death. He doesn’t really do much outside of shooting at beer bottles and setting off rockets in his backyard, which he claims to have a good reason for beyond “it’s a whole heap of fun, amigo.” He occasionally works as a hired gun, helping out on supply runs for the Whitetail Militia whenever they need someone a little more… “heavy-handed.” In exchange, they give him a fraction of the supplies that were found (which is increased if he sustains an injury on the run). Other than that, he’s all about “kicking back and gettin’ buzzed, man.”

Jess Black: Jess lives in the wilderness, setting up her camp in a different place each night. She makes an effort to stay pretty clear of other people, suspecting that human beings have only gotten more dangerous since the end of the world. Tammy gets in contact with her from time to time, just to make sure she’s okay (after Eli and Dutch died, Tammy took on the responsibility of checking in on Jess), but other than that, Jess rarely has contact with people. She dedicates all of her time to surviving in the wilderness and any spare time that she has is spent on hunting and crafting. I could see her sat in front of a campfire crafting arrows or cooking a rabbit for her dinner. She doesn’t really care for anything else and is more than happy to live a secluded life alone in the forests of Hope County.

Staci Pratt: Pratt needs something calm, easy, and mundane ever since his brains were scrambled by Jacob. He can’t handle stress anymore and isn’t safe enough to be in combat or unsupervised around people. So he assists Casey in the kitchen, cooking food for Prosperity, which he enjoys more than he thought he would. In his spare time, he likes to read – mainly because it helps him to practice focusing his mind. He struggles picking out individual thoughts, often jumbling things together and getting stressed out by it. So reading a book and forcing himself to take time focusing on each individual sentence is really helpful for him. He also enjoys the escapism and seeing characters get happy endings. Other than reading, he likes spending time with friends; especially Hudson, who he feels very connected to after going through similar things.

Henbane River

Earl Whitehorse: He tried to secure the prison after getting out of his bunker, but it was too far gone, so he moved on to Prosperity. For a while, he acted as Sheriff of Prosperity, helping Hudson keep the peace in the ever-growing settlement. But he eventually began thinking of the apocalypse as his second chance. He figured that if he survived the war in Hope County, the Bliss, and then the nukes, then that has to mean something. And he didn’t want to waste his new lease of life on doing the same thing he’d been doing for the previous 30+ years. So now he spends most of his days fishing in the river behind Prosperity, providing fresh (albeit oddly coloured and disproportionate) fish for Casey to cook and providing himself with a taste of the well-deserved retirement that he never got to see.

Tracey Lader: Tracey has a whole lot of anger to share with her enemies (and people in general) so she found her place as a soldier. She acts as one of Jerome’s most trusted lieutenants and is second in command (and sometimes completely in charge, when Jerome isn’t there) of most of the supply run teams that are sent out. She debated going it alone like Jess for a while, but she ultimately likes human contact too much to live like that – no matter how annoying people can be sometimes. She’s pretty busy running the show for Jerome, so she doesn’t get much spare time, but when she does, she spends it in her room, brooding.

Sharky Boshaw: Sharky goes back and forth between locations; sometimes living in Prosperity, and sometimes living in Fort Drubman with Hurk. He still likes fire. A lot. But he contributes a little more to the grouthan he used to, using his “creative genius” (his words) to devise traps for enemies, ideally keeping said enemies as far away from the walls of Prosperity as possible. There’s sharpened branches, there’s tripwires, and most importantly; there’s fire. In his spare time, he messes around with Hurk, getting up to all kinds of trouble and not being inconspicuous in the slightest – much to Jerome’s dismay.

Adelaide Drubman: Adelaide is 83 years old now so it’s a miracle she’s still alive and you best believe she doesn’t let anybody forget it. She’s still rampantly horny, but doesn’t have the energy to keep up with her own needs anymore. So she spends most of her days messing with people around Prosperity; picking on them and getting a kick out of getting adverse reactions from them. She’s quite close with Carmina Rye (unfortunately for Nick and Kim), who keeps her feeling young, and Carmina finds her hilarious. The pair can often be found sat on the front steps of the former ranch, giggling at passers by and enjoying some time away from the destruction and misery.

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packhuntcr · 5 years

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❛ Whats the point of nice days when stupid people are allowed to enjoy them too? ❜

He’s sat shoulder-to-shoulder with his brother enough times to recognize the voice: the wayward Deputy. Except, she comes through clear this time. A crisp,clean, and direct signal rather than the the vague tin of an intercepted commune with Roosevelt and Rye. The smirk that curves Jacob’s lips is predatory, amused... and curious. The Resistance haven’t yet tapped this station. Jacob would know. He’s got ears to the ground to match John’s watching eyes. They’d allowed the resistance to intercept some general chatter--too much silence would be suspicious after all-- but the direct channels remain clear. Or at least, they were.

“Another lucky shot, Deputy,” the old wolf murmurs to himself, plucking the handset from his cluttered desktop. His thumb hovers over the button, measuring what to say; if he even should say anything. No hooks sunk into her to play his games. Threats are beneath him. Perhaps she doesn’t yet recognize his voice. He’s yet to find her leavings among the mountains the way she’s littered the Valley and Henbane.

“Allow me guess, Deputy,” Jacob sighs. “You’re regarding Chateau Boshaw. Or have you wandered up North to play and stumbled across the disgrace to the species that is Fort Drubman?”

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themysteriouslou · 5 years

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To the deep ends

I wrote this as part of an angst war between @elusetta @foofygoldfish and me. Another good motivation was noticing that there are few bunker ending fics where the deputy explores their grief following the death of their friends. So, my deputy is going to be the guinea pig of this little experiment of mine, hope you enjoy it!

The days in the bunker went on smoothly.

Or at least, she perceived them that way.

It was difficult to guess how much time had passed since the bunker's doors had closed to the outside world. Joseph had removed Dutch's body one day after she had woken up from her blackout, muttering about giving him eternal rest once and for all. The hours following it, though? They felt the same to her, without any change that would point out something anew.

One thing she could be sure of was that, if she was careless enough, she could lose the perception of time in that dark box that kept her safe from "God's wrath". She had to keep herself constantly alert to the sounds of the radio, to some errant paper that had flown from the desk where Dutch had kept his things, to the calendar that was too far away from her eyes to see. Leslie knew she could ask Joseph, and she could almost picture the scene in her mind's eye; him going and coming through the door, the rosary around his wrist tinkling with his footsteps, approaching her to give her to drink (or eat, or just to watch her without uttering a word). If she concentrated long enough, she could see herself looking at him and asking what day it was (how long have we been here?) But it wouldn't work.

She had already tried, step by step, but the words refused to come out of her mouth. Her lips were glued together, and the air in her lungs (wasted, of course it was) did nothing but remind her that she was no more than a doll whose strings had been torn apart: soundless, motionless, and useless.

What remained of those efforts was him leaving the room and her making a futile attempt to extend her hands, a plea on the tip of her tongue: stay. Because if Joseph stayed, her memory would give up the chance to torment her. Please, don't leave me. Don't go.

But he never saw her doing that gesture, and Leslie hadn't the strength to repeat it when she was in his presence. Both were tired and preferred, somehow, to coexist without really interacting with each other. A kind of symbiotic relationship, one that ensured their survival but prevented them from interacting with the person who had caused the most damage in their lives.

Isn't that right, Joseph? She thought, hearing his restless gait in the continuous room. I complied with everything you predicted, and even so, it's difficult for you to see day after day the sinner you swore to convert to the cost of your family.

The sinner that took everything from you, just as you took everything from her.

And she understood, she really did, and she didn't blame him for it.

After all, every time she made the slightest attempt to blame him, something inside immediately reared its head at her, compelling her to close her eyes, to hold her breath and wait. Wait for the surrounding sounds to die out, for the lights to flick down like a candle's flame—and then, stillness.

She had enough self-awareness to understand that her psyche’s silence wouldn’t last long. It never did. It creeped on the edges of her consciousness, reminding her of the words branded in her memory since she woke up in Dutch’s bunker.

The world is on fire and it’s your fault.

"Breathe," she whispered, the sound echoing through the empty room. Her throat felt hoarse when she took in a deep breath—when was the last time she swallowed?—and held it, allowing the lungs to expand and fill with the smell of ashes and humidity the bunker carried. It cleared her mind for a brief second, made it easy for her to listen to the pounding of her heart. She was alive, breathing and well. However, at what cost?

Joseph claimed that God was purging the earth for them, that He was making sure they received a new and blank start. A pure one, where they would replace the bad with the good. Where they could forget.

But how to start again if everything reminded her of what she had loved and lost?

She didn't even have to access her own mental space to remember it—the images assaulted her daily, regardless of whether she was awake or trying to sleep. She saw towers of fire rising from the forests. Saw the white church where everything had begun die out in a pile of dust before her eyes. Saw their faces, both known and not, frozen in time with the same widen-eyed, mouth-opened expression.

And yet, nothing could beat out the dreams.

...

Sharky was sitting next to her, roaring with laughter as they drove alongside the Henbane River, Johnny Cash blaring out of the speakers and a host of peggies following them closely from behind.

"C'mon, Les, you can't tell me you've never tried it!" She couldn't take her eyes off the road; hands firmly curled on the steering wheel, yet responded to his playful tone without missing a beat.

"Driving with music at full volume as I go through a horde of cultists? No, Sharky, I haven't had time to attempt it."

He laughed; the sound muffled by the wind as he leaned out the window and pulled his flamethrower with him. Looking through the rear-view mirror, Leslie saw the cultists trying to keep themselves out of the fire's range. It can't be helped, she mused, returning her vision to the road. I would've rather lost them the old way but desperate times call for desperate measures.

The outlaw patted her hands affectionately, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You are in good hands; Dep. Uncle Shark will teach you everything he knows."

“Only if you don’t call yourself uncle ever again.”

...

"Les, isn't it a little... too much?"

Leslie looked away from the landscape below them, raising her eyebrows in brief confusion. Looking at her through the rear-view mirror, Nick sighed deeply, releasing Carmina's controls to make a gesture with one of his hands.

"I mean that monstrosity of a bag you're carryin' in your hands."

"Pregnant women need protein, Nick," she beamed lightly, squeezing his shoulder to remind him to look forward, "I'd rather stuff your fridge to the brim than having Kim and the baby missing some delicacies to eat. That ain't to do, don't you think?"

He grinned, “You don’t have to go to all this trouble for us.”

"I want to. Now, keep your eyes on the front view—if we crash into a tree and die Kim's gonna revive us just for the sake of killing us again with her own bare hands and that's somehow an even more terrifying thought than the cultists doing it themselves."

...

It was in that moment she opened her eyes.

It wasn't the typical movie scene where someone jerks awake from a nightmare. She wasn't screaming her lungs out because of something her mind made her see. She wasn't sweating profusely, nor was she wondering if whether it was a dream or an actual incident.

She knew it was real. She knew it with the same certainty she felt when she saw those faces, mirages of a previous life where she didn't feel alone. (Where the world outside was bright and hope was just around the corner. Where she could do things right...)

It wasn't a nightmare, too. The images were too vivid, too precious to have been one. That much she did know.

Trembling, Leslie tested impulsively the shackles that had her bound to the bedpost, only to find her wrists free of the metallic cuffs. Joseph must have been sure she wasn't going to attack him as soon as he took the chains off. He must have known that she…

You’re weak, a voice uttered in her ear, a soft and deep cadence that made her think of red (the color of his hair, of his burns, of the lights in the trial rooms, of the blood dripping down on Eli's forehead). And you know what happens to the weak.

“I do.” Curled up in the bed, hands tightly drawn to her body in an attempt to stop her shallow breathing from taking ahold of her being, she darted her sight from the radio to the ceiling in quick succession until everything blurred out. “Believe me, I do.”

Morpheus didn’t look for her again, nor did he do it the following nights.

It was for the best.

Joseph was bound to notice it sooner or later.

And, in all honesty, Leslie was right to assume it would be the former option.

"You haven't been eating well," he said, as she put her meal's leftovers in a tupperware.

Her fingers twitched lightly, holding onto the food container as carefully as she could. His gaze burned the back of her head, making her want to face him. It's all on the eyes, she thought, they're called the windows of the soul for a reason.

And that was the exact reason for which she turned away every time he was near her. He would notice the slight frown in her mouth, the dark bags under her eye sockets, the tiredness of her features—she didn't doubt Joseph was a perceptive man, one who knows exactly what a person is going through just looking at them.

He would know.

And she couldn't let that happen. Not yet.

"It's just your imagination," Leslie assured him, looking at him over her shoulder. Yup, he's effectively burning holes through my skull. "I'm okay."

You've always been a terrible liar, but at least you can look like you've got yourself together.

"Now, if you excuse me..."

She didn't see the tight-lipped expression that settled on Joseph's face once she left the room, but it didn't matter.

She would get acquainted with it soon.

...

"No!"

"As you hear it! It's only a matter of time, Ladybug. The Monkey God has not forgotten me, we just have to wait." Hurk clapped his hands, visibly satisfied at his audience's stunned countenance.

The two were enjoying a pair of beers in the backyard of the Fort Drubman, taking a break from the fighting as soon as Drubman Senior’s truck Nancy —Leslie gripped the mouth of her bottle strongly, almost sneering at the thought of the traitor that sold her and her colleagues to a conflict neither of them wanted to happen. Fuckin' Nancy— was safely back in her owner’s hands. It was just her and Hurk chilling in the sun, listening to the chirps of the birds and the sound of wind through the leaves of the trees…. until Hurk deemed the silence to be boring and dreary, and started telling her stories about his exploits around the world, about being part of a Resistance group in the past and crucially helping the hero when they needed him.

She suspected Hurk embellished some parts of his story, but it truly didn't bother her. The places he went were exotic but dangerous and she wondered, in awe, how Hurk was still alive following that. Dumb luck or an actual Monkey God protecting him? No one will ever know.

"Are you still in contact with Ajay after what happened in Kyrat?"

"Sometimes, though I haven't heard of him since the county closed off to the outside world," Hurk opened his mouth, but then closed it and looked at her, furrowing his brows in contemplation. "Now that I think about it, you two are very similar. You're both bull-headed and fight like mad dogs when you see people getting threatened by others." He nodded to himself, in agreement with his own train of thought, "Yeah, you two would totally be each other's best friends, after me, of course."

Leslie shook her head slightly at his words, amusement still openly evident in her mien. "Should I take that as an insult or a compliment?”

"Whatever you wanna make of it, Ladybug." Hurk stood up, stretching up and sighing at the feel of his joints popping into place. "Now, what d'you think about going to blow some peggie stuff up?"

…

"Adjust the angle two inches to the right." Grace advised, watching her from the shadow of a tree.

Leslie nodded, closing her left eye and rotating her body slightly to the right, until she was aiming where she wanted it to be. Focus. She breathed in and pulled the trigger.

The thunderous noise of the shot made her grit her teeth and left a buzzing in her ears, but when she looked at the target, her hands tightened around her weapon’s handle in glee. Straight at the bullseye.

A calloused hand touched her shoulder. Grace was smiling at her, a proud smirk lighting her usual stoic face. “That was good, Les.”

Her lips quirked upwards, sighing deeply as she strapped her rifle to her back once more. “You’re a good teacher, Grace.”

“Have you done this before?”

“Opa used to take me to his and Dad’s hunting trips.” A wistful expression flickered in her mien. It’s a shame he’s not here anymore, her eyes wandered up to the sky, almost picturing in the clouds the solemn weathered face of a man who had been dutiful until the end, but then again, had he been alive Eden’s Gate would be shitting bricks and running to the next hill in fear, no doubt about that. “We had – have – a sniper rifle back at our house, but it was my Gramps’s and there were few occasions were we took it with us. Most of the time we used standard rifles with suppressors.”

“I see.” And Grace understood, she truly did.

The former Olympic champion gazed at her companion and observed her posture attentively. Having been in the Army made her knowledgeable of certain aspects of body language—how the behavior of her colleagues or targets changed at the drop of a hat in the face of adversity and weariness. The deputy could fool anyone else with her composed semblance, but she couldn’t fool Grace. She wouldn't let her.

“Come with me.”

Leslie looked at her, confusion briefly flashing across her face, but she followed Grace without a second thought. “Where are we going?”

“We are not far from Fall’s End. You need to eat and rest if you wanna take the cult down,” after a quick scrutiny, she nodded to herself, walking to the motorcycle stationed at the side of the road, “and perhaps a bit more practice at target shooting with that sniper rifle. I know a place for that—my Pop and I used to go there to practice our aim when we felt stressed. A change of air will do you good.”

“… Thank you”.

“Don’t mention it.”

...

Fool, you absolute fool!

Hands gripped onto the mattress underneath her body until her knuckles turned white, a way to keep herself from slipping away, to reminds herself she couldn't go back. She could still feel the wind playing with her hair as she and Grace rode through the highway, her hands placed firmly on the motorcycle's handlebar and the sight of Holland Valley's gorgeous landscape in front of her. The colors, the sounds, the warmth of the sunlight on her skin... Everything felt so utterly vivid that one might think it was reachable.

Oh, she wished it was. Please, let me return, she begged, shutting her eyes so tightly it almost hurt. Please, please, please... Tremors shook her body with the force of ocean waves, making her gasp and loosen her strong hold on the smooth textile to grasp at her neck. Count!

Uno, Due, Tre... She inhaled quickly, oxygen making its way to her lungs and brain. Quattro, Cinque, Sei... She sat up, holding her own head between her hands, giving into the structure she made to cope with the dreams. All she had to do was to breathe.

Had someone decided to seek her out, they would've found her in the darkness of Dutch Roosevelt's former bedroom, her face giving nothing away while she looked at the ground with a focused but blank stare.

She was there, but at the same time... she wasn't.

You will not hide any longer.

"I know," she muttered, digging her fingers through her hair. Flashes of people and places played like a movie inside her head.

Mary May's gleeful expression when she saw that she managed to get the Widowmaker back.

Pastor Jerome sitting next to her in his church's steps and giving her gentle encouragement to never doubt herself.

Boomer nearly barreling into her the second she returned to the town from the mountains.

Kim smiling at her from a wheelchair and putting her daughter in her hands, asking if she wanted to be the godmother.

Believe me, I know.

…

"Come on, dear, you can't tell me you haven't had any experience when it comes to hunting meat, if you know what I mean."

She sighed, pulling leisurely the line of her fishing rod back to her. "Addie..."

"Don't "Addie" me, young lady.” Adelaide chided her, and then quieted down. Perhaps she forgot what she was going to say? The hopeful tone of her thoughts was, nonetheless, swiftly stifled as the Chopper Queen looked at her once more and waggled her eyebrows, a lewd smile blooming in her face. “I worry about you, when was the last time you had a bit of the old in-out, in-out?"

That absolutely prompted the reaction she was looking for: the deputy turned to face her so quickly she nearly fell into the river. It’s a shame I don’t have a camera with me right now Adelaide thought gleefully, watching her companion making an effort to stare anywhere but at her. Of all the things that could’ve encouraged a response, this one’s the quickest yet.

"Addie!” she spluttered, morphing into the true portrait of mortification. “Th—That’s private!”

The older woman threw her head back and guffawed, slapping her thighs as if she had heard the greatest joke ever told. “That’s a good one, honey! You can tell aunt Addie everything, y’know. And for your information, it’s a small county, no one is private here about their matters, so you don’t have to feel ashamed of it.”

"For your information, trying to fight a cult seriously lowers my opportunities to "hunt meat", as you say,” Leslie huffed, raising a hand up to her neck to rub it absently. It was warm and she didn’t doubt for a second it went red the moment she was caught off guard the way she had been.

"You're doing a lot for us, Lessie.” Adelaide touched her shoulder and squeezed, “and we’re grateful for it. I just want you to have some fun. It mustn’t be easy to be the figurehead of the Resistance and you’re so young—you shouldn’t be going through this,” her voice lowered in volume, gaze wandering to the rippling waters below them in contemplation, “any of this, if you ask me.”

They fell silent as they observed the sun melt into the horizon, both of them lost in thought—mulling over the war, their comrades and the people they had to fight to liberate their home from the cult.

“Addie?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I stay at the marina?” she cleared her throat. “Just for the night, if you…”

“Of course, sweetie,” Adelaide stood up and extended a hand to her, helping her get to her feet. “You don’t even have to ask.”

...

She should’ve known it was a bad idea from the start.

"Damn moose,” Jess cursed, wiping the sweat from her brow. “I swear they're everywhere.”

Finding a spot in the Whitetail Mountains where they could hunt wasn’t the hardest part of the day, the region being overflowing with wild animals of all kinds all the time of the year as it was. In fact, she guessed they should count themselves as fortunate: in one of the bags they had brought from the small market at the Baron Lumber Mill laid the skins of two deers and a coyote, in the other, their meat. A productive and calm day, indeed.

Or so they thought, until they heard the gunshots.

“Shit,” Les crouched down behind a bush, rummaging through her backpack till she found what she was searching: her binoculars. She felt Jess duck out by her side, waiting patiently for a report of their surroundings. “What do you see?”

“Cultists on their quads,” she pressed slightly to zoom in, furrowing her brow in concentration. “They… They’re leaving.”

“A shame, really,” Jess flexed her fingers around her arrows, as if conjuring up pulling them out and making of these peggies her own shooting targets. “Hopefully they’ll remember they forgot something and come back here.”

Leslie chuckled, standing up lest her legs went numb, and extended her hands to Jess, who accepted them right away. They were ready to part back to the mill to gather the rewards of their work.

That was the moment they noticed the mooses.

Two big, strong and shaggy mooses that looked pissed off and were looking right at them.

Fuck!

The deputy pulled her sniper rifle from her back as one of the mooses charged at her. Body tense and mind working at an alarmingly fast pace, she surrounded the hostile mammal, looking through the sight of the rifle and pulling the trigger.

The moose fell to the ground with a dull thud.

“Are they usually this aggressive?”

“Only when they’re startled by something." The huntress adjusted the angle of her arrow, squinting until her eyes became thin lines, cold blue peeking from behind her lashes.

She shot. And the beast was dead in an instant.

Leslie approached the dead carcasses, slowly and carefully. God forbid they were still alive and decided to kick her in the face as their last act of revenge. Her hands were placed at the inside of the mooses’ elbows and waited.

Nothing. She sighed in relief, and then examined the carcasses intently: the bodies wouldn’t fit inside their bags. They were too heavy and huge for it, which meant they would have to call someone to help them carry it back at the mill. We have to skin them immediately, too. For one, it would cool the meat and prevent the sourness of the bone. For other, it’d be a lot easier to remove the hide while it was still warm. It had been years since she watched her father, uncles and Opa do it, but she would manage. She always did.

She was about to call Jess, to look over her shoulder and ask for rope, when her eyes fixed on the antlers. A little smile spread across her face, visible enough for Jess to notice it.

The younger woman tilted her head and squatted down beside her, furrowing her eyebrows in slight confusion. “Why are you smiling?”

"It's nothing; it's just that it reminds me of a joke my Opa used to tell me." Leslie smiled nervously, clearing her throat and trying to keep her face as straight as could. "Do you know why moose have such large antlers?"

Jess kept looking at her, waiting for the punchline that'd follow.

"To have better radio reception!"

Silence followed her awkward attempt to light up the mood. Way to go, Grünewald, way to go.

But then, she saw Jess’ lips quirking upwards and turning her gaze away from her, eyes crinkling in contained laughter.

Maybe the joke wasn’t as bad as she thought.

...

You were weak. The memory of a giggle ringed in her ears, a distant sound from world consumed by the flames, rising from the grave to taunt her. And you were selfish.

The dream morphed. Instead of a remote forest in the Whitetail Mountains by Jess’ side, she was standing in front of the closed doors of a church—a church she knew all too well. Eyes adjusting to the light the moon provided her with; she saw the Marshal and Sheriff Whitehorse prepared to enter the church, from where chants could be heard beyond the building’s walls. Amazing grace, how sweet a sound…

The night of the arrest. A shiver went down her spine, fear holding a tight grip on her heart.

Leslie looked at the marshal and the sheriff and the urge to grab them and pull them away from those doors was overpowering. She felt the words building inside her chest: the request to go back to the chopper, where Staci was waiting for her. You’re not going to come alive from this if you go through that door.

But her body refused to cooperate with her. She was a prisoner of her mind’s set-ups, reminders of the possible what-ifs that could have happened had she walked away. She gripped the cuffs in her hands tightly, hands trembling by the sheer force of her grasp, and went forward.

Except that, just before she entered the church, a hand touched her elbow, stopping her in her tracks. Joey Hudson gave her an encouraging smile and muttered, low enough for her to hear:

‘You’ll be fine.’

She wasn’t the Joey she remembered, the one who was filled by so much rage and pain against those who broke her.

No, she was the Joey who gave her advice about how to survive in the station without going crazy in the first try, the one who snarked at hers and Staci’s antics, the one who became her first female friend in the county.

The Joey from before.

No…

Another hurricane of colors surrounded her; the church’s doors slowly moving away as a new image replaced it.

She was running through a bunker, looking for… someone. Someone important to her. She had to find them before Jacob’s men noticed the trail of dead bodies left in her wake. She promised him she would come back for him.

And she did.

A sheen of sweat covered her body, soaking darkly into her clothes along with the grime and blood from battling the Soldier on that mountain. Hurry! She walked into a room quickly, almost barreling into the figure strapped at the lone chair in the center of the room.

Staci Pratt opened his eyes with difficulty, the wounds in his face still leaking blood. When he looked at her, it was as if he was seeing a miracle, as if her presence were but just as dream.

‘Rook, are you real?’

Her throat tightened, swallowing down a sob as she inspected him. Oh, Staci… Sweet Staci Pratt, the first one after Whitehorse who welcomed her to the station. He had always been kind to her, even when he was teasing her at all times of the day, leaving a mug of coffee at her desk every single morning without fail. They broke him. He broke him. Oh God…

As she reached for her fellow deputy’s bonds, she was pulled away from the bunker, Staci’s hopeful face fading into black before her frantic eyes.

No, no, no!

As soon as the scene changed, Leslie found herself in the pilot seat of a truck. She saw the walls encircling the Hope County Jail coming into view, people pouring out of the structure to take care of their injured and dead.

Sound gradually started reaching her ears. She blinked once, twice, thrice—and turned on her seat to listen to the person speaking to her, hands leaving the steering wheel to rest on her lap.

Earl Whitehorse was sitting on the copilot seat of the truck, exhausted but alive, face reflecting the fondness and pride he felt for his junior deputy. His eyes wrinkled around the edges when he smiled at her, patting her hands as a proud father would to his daughter.

‘A lot of good people died, but everyone here, all of us, we’re alive because of you… and I’m damn proud of you.’

Tears gathered in her eyes at his words. She struggled with the invisible bindings that didn’t let her reach for the sheriff. There were so many things she wanted to tell him. So many, and the dream gave her the opportunity to do it. She just needed to try harder….

Just as she managed to raise her hands to him, everything dimmed out.

Until all she could see were a succession of images. Images she thought she forgot, except she hadn’t.

Cameron Burke was staring at her, a finger on the trigger of his gun. His hands were extended to his sides and his posture displayed an alarmingly openness that chilled her to the bone. ‘I told you I didn’t want to leave’; he spoke, voice carrying a dejected touch to it. She dared to glance to her right side, horror striking her chest at the sight of Virgil Minkler’s lifeless body beside the table where he and the marshal had been playing cards before.

Stop.

Tammy Barnes was giving her speech at Eli’s funeral, her voice trembling as she recalled how her dear friend helped her when she needed someone the most, the one who gave her a second chance to be useful. Once she finished, she looked straight at her and walked up until they were standing face-to-face, her eyes shining from unshed tears. ‘It wasn’t you. Eli knows that.’

I killed him, and he knew.

Tracey was looking at her through the window of the truck, a soft expression that she wasn’t used to see exposed in her mien. She didn’t think there was a more capable person to fight against the cult as Rook, not after everything she had done for them. ‘You saved a lot of people here today, Rook. Don’t forget that.’

In the shadow of a tree, in a meadow somewhere in the Holland Valley, Cheeseburger laid his head on her lap, purring happily when she scratched him behind his tiny ears. Leslie grinned down at him, placing a gentle kiss on his brow. ‘I know you’re tired, but I promise that soon all you’ll have to worry is how many salmons I’m going to bring you. You like that, don’t you?’

Peaches was running alongside her, sprinting past one of the forest trails she had accidentally found in her hunting trips. There hadn’t been calls over the radio for her, no one was in need of a rescue, and the cult had retreated briefly to rethink their strategy. Enjoying the warm rays of the sun as the autumn breeze played with her hair, the deputy halted her steps, closing her eyes and just breathing in the fresh air of the mountains. Life’s good.

You’ll be the one who decides what happens. You were the start, and you’ll be the end.

Hands reached out to her body from the dark, shaking it at a persistent rhythm. Deputy…

You did everything he said you would do. And you didn’t even know it. You had no fucking clue.

The movements intensified, trying to rouse her from her slumber.

May God have mercy on your soul.

…

She stirred awake and sat up, blinking to chase away the blurriness of her sight. Where was she?

Her hands flexed tentatively from one place to another, feeling the soft textile of the couch under the pads of her fingers. She didn’t remember falling asleep on it, but then again, neither she remembered walking away from her room to the bunker’s living room/kitchen mix.

So much for swearing sleep off.

“My child…”

Her muscles stiffened.

Oh, fuck.

“Deputy…” His voice was a whisper, but she heard him well. It was difficult to not do so, when he was at her side and blocked the bluish light of the aquarium, giving the shadow her sensible orbs needed to see. “Was it a nightmare?”

He saw her hesitate, close her hands strongly over her trousers and give out a shaky sigh.

The deputy had always tried to stay composed in his presence, to hide her emotion behind a strong and inscrutable mask she had created to give others the security they needed. The security she needed. He saw it in his church, that fateful night when the county’s sheriff department came to arrest him and pull him away from his faithful, and he saw it the night she refused to accept his peace offer.

But the grief had been consuming her for days—once he went through his own time to grieve for his siblings and his faithful, he noticed it, in every movement she did. He didn’t have to look at her face to know what was happening to her. He already did.

Joseph breathed in, and drew her in close, holding her against his heart so she could listen to the beating of his heart. Constant, even. He looked at her face and was almost startled to see her eyes welling up, figure slightly shaking in his arms. She was holding back.

He wouldn’t let her.

“You don’t have to hide it anymore.”

The silence in the room was deafening for a second.

Then, brick by brick, her walls came tumbling down, leaving behind a rawness borne of an open wound that hadn’t been given the chance to heal.

As much as she tried to let it out little by little, as much as she tried to control it, the pain came out from her throat in the form of a silent howl, sobs wracking against her chest with such intensity that she clung to Joseph in an attempt to steady herself. She pressed her forehead against his skin and wept bitterly, her sight turning the world into a blur of color until all she could see was gray.

“I want to go back” she choked on through the tears. “Please, let me go back. They’re dead. They’re dead and I see them everywhere. I want to correct this, please, let me go back.”

Joseph’s arms tightened around her middle, before whispering in her ear.

“You can’t.” He stroked her hair, pulling it away from her face carefully, kindly. “They’re dead, but they aren’t suffering anymore. They’re with the Lord now, in a place where there’s no pain, where they will not lack anything. And one day,” his voice took on a fierce tone, “one day, we will meet them again. I promise you that.”

She nodded, blinking away the tears to look at the newspaper clippings and photos she had collected from Dutch’s former war room. Boomer, Sharky, Grace, Nick, Hurk, Jess and Adelaide stared at her over Joseph’s shoulder, smiling contentedly at her.

Someday, we’ll find each other for a second time. But until then… wait for me, guys.

I love you.

18 notes · View notes

eli-whitetail · 5 years

Note

you've lost everything, why stay? why not leave and begin again? you know my brother won't let you live if you remain. such heroics, for what? for who? your wife is gone, your child is dead. you know jacob won't stop until you ..well, come to the valley. i can help you with the resources you need, brother. trust me.

He had lost a lot.

Looking back those few short years ago to when the Seeds had first moved into the area, Eli lamented for the person he had been.

Young, hopeful, content.

It all seemed such a distant memory now. Living beneath the ground, constantly on-watch for new movements, radioing updates to Dutch and checking up on as many local residents as he could. Crash for a few snatched hours of sleep every few days and begin the cycle all over again. Punctuated only by the retrieval of bodies from the Grand View.

Jacob wouldn’t stop until he finally got his head on a pike, and Eli knew that. He had caused far too much trouble for the Mountain Herald. Pretty much went and signed his own death warrant a dozen times over by now. But it didn’t matter. He stayed in the mountains fighting the Cult because someone had to. Someone had to stand up to these fucking lunatics.

He had lost a lot, but not everything. There was Tammy, there was Wheaty, there was Dutch and so many more; the stupid jokes thrown around the Wolf’s Den, bets on how long it’d take Hurk Jr. to set Fort Drubman on fire without Sharky’s input. He had lost almost everything, but Eli clung on to what thrown-together family he had left.

But this? Trust John Seed? Those words just didn’t belong in the same sentence at all. This new offer tickled a horrible sense of humour in him and Eli answered the baptist’s radio call with a grin on his face; doubt big-bro Jacob knew of this little conversation.

“I might not have much, hell I never had much ... but ya know what? The Whitetails are my family and I’m loyal to my family. Don’t ever call me yer brother you two-faced fuck.”

#gcdsaved #replied

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lulu2992 · 4 years

Text

What I learned listening to Far Cry 5′s audio files

The game’s lore, as told by its characters.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Hurk Drubman Senior

Biography

Hurk Sr. hates millennials, liberals, Canadians, and political correctness. He believes bullies are useful because they “turn weak boys into strong men”. According to him, Obama is to blame for Eden’s Gate because they are “libtard snowflakes”. He’s running for Senate and, if he’s elected, he says there will be no more women in the military, no more marijuana, no more immigrants, no more “chicks with dicks”, no more abortion, and no more free healthcare because his platform is “all about freedom”… He also wants to build an ice wall at the Canadian border (he got the idea from Game of Thrones), “sea walls” around the country, and make it the law for everyone in Montana to own a gun. Senior doesn’t want to live in a bunker and hates prepper food because it reminds him of MREs. He apparently has prostate problems but refused to let his doctor do a rectal examination.

Comments about other characters

He thinks Boomer is smarter than his son.

His ex-wife Adelaide hasn’t spoken to him in 17 years. He thinks the fact she left him for a “California liberal” is “undignified”. He’s thinking about making it legal to kill your wife’s lover if he becomes Senator.

He explains Hurk Jr. had to be homeschooled because he didn’t wear any pants until he was in 3rd grade.

Sharky is his sister’s child. He says he once caught him “tugging it to a fireplace” and advises the Deputy to stay away from him.

Other characters’ point of view

According to Adelaide, he weighs 250 pounds, is “lazier than a house cat”, a “limp-dicked alpha dipshit”, selfish, dumb, never learned to cook, and used to tell her how she should dress. He named his boat the First Lady, she says. He and their son want everyone to think they’re the victims and that she’s the one who abandoned them but she disagrees.

Hurk Jr. says his dad didn’t like his ideas for his campaign (women in wet t-shirts, mostly) and made him sleep outside when he lost Nancy, his campaign vehicle. When he was little, he wanted a toy train but they were too poor so Senior cut windows in a tissue box and wrote “Bullshit Express” on it to make him one. According to him, he hates Eli but likes Nick, beer is his favorite breakfast, he practically lives at the Spread Eagle, and he often was hungover on Sunday mornings. He also puts juice in his cereal.

One NPC describes him as egotistical, misogynistic, and self-righteous. Jacob’s men stay away from Fort Drubman, according to several people. A man says Senior is ready for anything... except maybe his son.

According to news reports, he doesn’t believe in global warming and “unsurprisingly” didn’t show up for the recent debate between the six State Senate candidates.

#far cry 5 #hurk drubman sr #far cry 5 spoilers

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tuppencetrinkets-a · 4 years

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FOR HIRE ROSTER

When traveling through Hope County, you encounter many people and animals who wish to join you in the fight against the Peggies. These characters are categorized as specialists and fighters. Having one of these companions with you can often mean the difference between life and death.

Specialists appear on the map with a radio message when your cursor hovers over their location. They are typically tied to story missions or to liberating a certain location. Specialists come with two abilities that are extremely powerful and unique to that individual and to the specific situation. Recruit them based on your preferred playtype and your current needs. There are three specialists in each region of the map, for a total of nine.

Fighters are found all over Hope County by liberating outposts, being freed from captors, or just patrolling through the wilderness. Fighters also have two random abilities that unlock by killing enemies; these can be quite strong if you invest the time with them. You can recruit up to three fighters at any one time and summon whichever one is most useful or if one of your other guns for hire is resting. At the beginning of the game, you are only able to recruit fighters to help you with your fight against the Peggies.

In combat, specialists and fighters following you engage any enemies you are already fighting. However, you can direct them to attack specific targets or move to specific areas to override their normal behavior. If one of your followers is defeated in combat, they are not permanently dead. They simply need time to heal and cannot be summoned again until their cooldown timer is up. Putting points into the Leader perk tree can reduce this cooldown, and allow you to summon another follower in your squad. In addition, your follower can revive you if the enemy strikes you down, making them essential companions.

GUNS FOR HIRE

Grace Armstrong

Characteristic: The Sharpshooting Hero

Class: Sniper

Location: Holland Valley - Lamb of God Church

Abilities: Boom Boom / her sniper shots will scare enemies.

Abilities: Friend Sight / her laser sight is easier to distinguish.

Grace Armstrong is an excellent sniper with a powerful rifle that can one-shot most cultists. Use her for taking out especially hard-to-reach enemies, like snipers or cultists with RPGs. Note that her attacks come slowly, so she is vulnerable to melee cultists and predators.

Grace is found at the Lamb of God Church in Holland Valley. Approaching the church and clearing out the cultists surrounding it begins the mission, Grace Under Fire. Once you climb atop the church, you are required to help Grace protect three mausoleums from cultist attacks. After you defeat the cultists and ensure at least one mausoleum remains intact, Grace joins your team as a gun for hire.

Nick Rye

Characteristic: The King of the Skies

Class: Pilot

Location: Holland Valley - Rye & Sons Aviation

Abilities: Bomb’s Away / you want a bomb? He’ll drop it.

Abilities: Light ‘Em Up / you want a strafing run? Look out.

Nick Rye supports you from the sky in his plane Carmina and is only useful in open areas. His strafing attacks and bombs are devastating, especially to vehicles, but have a significant delay after each attack as he circles back around. Nick is weakest against Chosen fighter planes and mounted weaponry. Do not summon him when your fight takes you into heavily wooded or indoor locations.

Nick Rye’s missions begin when you go to Rye & Sons Aviation and defeat the cultists attacking his home. He asks you to head to Seed Ranch and retrieve his plans. After you clear John Seed’s Ranch in Holland Valley and get into the yellow plane located inside the hanger, Nick asks you to use it to destroy some of the cultists’ property before landing the plane at Rye & Sons. Once you secure his house and his hanger from the cultists, Nick joins your team as a gun for hire.

Hurk Drubman Jr.

Characteristic: Just dangerously stupid

Class: RPG

Location: Whitetail Mountains - Fort Drubman

Abilities: Heat Seeker / RPGs will track air and land vehicles.

Abilities: Junk It / RPGs on vehicles are more destructive.

Hurk Drubman Jr. carries an RPG and is perfect for helping you take down armored convoys and aircraft. Any vehicles he destroys explode with greater force, inflicting carnage in a wider area around the vehicle. However, he can be a liability if you are trying to capture vehicles, rescue civilians, or fight in tight quarters.

Visit Fort Drubman n Whitetail Mountains and speak to Hurk Drubman Sr. This starts The Prodigal Son mission, which requires you to help Hurk retrieve his father’s truck. Ride with him to Haskell Lookout Tower and clear out the cultists entrenched there. Climb the tower to spot your next objective below to the southwest. Follow Hurk down the zip lines and head to the cabin on the pond’s southwest side. Defeat the cultists guarding the truck and drive back to Fort Drubman with Hurk in the rescued vehicle, defeating any cultists impeding your path. Finally, finish the mission by speaking to Hurk Drubman Sr., who begs you to take Hurk with you, making him a gun for hire.

Adelaide Drubman

Characteristic: The Chopper Queen

Class: Pilot

Location: Henbane River - Drubman Marina

Abilities: Call a Chopper / when called on, will deliver a helicopter.

Abilities: Less Reload / gun + big magazine = more shooting.

Adelaide Drubman brings support to your squad when she is summoned by arriving in a helicopter. This ability alone makes her invaluable. However, even on the ground she can maintain a longer sustained fire against enemies before needing to reload. Adelaid is neither particularly strong nor weak against any foe, making her a dependable companion in almost all circumstances.

Adelaide Drubman’s mission begins are you liberate the Drubman Marina in the Henbane River region. When you speak to Adelaide, she asks you to hunt down her prized helicopter Tulip, which was stolen from her. Additionally, she’d like you to eliminate her traitorous pilot friends while searching for Tulip. Once you have recovered the helicopter from the cultists and returned it to the marina, you must defeat the cultists assaulting it. After using Tulips superior firepower to make short work of the enemies, land it at the marina’s helipad and speak with Adelaide. She joins your team as a gun for hire.

Jess Black

Characteristic: The Master Huntress

Class: Hunter

Location: Whitetail Mountains - Baron Lumber Mill

Abilities: Concealment / enemies will have a harder time detecting her.

Abilities: Feral Friendly / wild animals see her as one of their own.

Jess Black is a master of her environment and is nearly impossible to detect when in stealth. This makes her perfect for helping you silently disarm cult outposts alarms. In addition, she can kill any hard-to-reach cultists with her bow without alerting nearby enemies. Jess can be easily overwhelmed when facing large waves of fast-moving enemies, such as Angels or armored units and vehicles.

Jess Black’s mission begins after you liberate the Baron Lumber Mill in Whitetail Mountains. When you speak to Jess at the lumber mill, she asks you to help her track down a cultist named “the Cook.” Follow Jess to the Cook’s camp, eliminating any cultists in your path. Once you arrive in the camp, free the captives and eliminate their cultist tormentors. Follow Jess to the nearby quarry, where you must rescue more hostages. Finally, you have the Cook’s location - a place called the Pit. Follow Jess to the Pit and defeat the Cook and his cultist guards; then speak with Jess to have her join your team as a gun for hire.

Sharky Boshaw

Characteristic: The Pyrotechnics Phenom

Class: Heavy Flamer

Location: Henbane River - Moonflower Trailer Park

Abilities: Fire It Up / attacks will have an extra spark to it.

Abilities: Shatterproof / resistant to most explosions and impacts.

Sharky is a powerhouse when fighting enemies that like to get in close. His preferred weapons are the flamethower and incendiary ammo for his shotgun. Sharky does come with one major drawback: All that use of fire tends to catch the terrain on fire, which could burn you alive.

Sharky’s mission begins once you speak to him at Moonflower Trailer Park in the Henbane River region. He wants your help in defeating the Angels that always come when he plays his music. After killing the first wave of Angels, Sharky asks you to shut the music off by switching off the four speakers around the trailer park. Once you finish that and secure the area, Sharky joins your team as a gun for hire.

FANGS FOR HIRE

Boomer

Characteristic: The Good Boy

Class: Scout

Location: Holland Valley - Rae Rae’s Pumpkin Farm

Abilities: Pointer / will tag all enemies nearby.

Abilities: Retriever / will sometimes fetch a weapon after an attack.

Boomer is great for scouting cultist outposts. He reveals nearby enemies to you without alerting suspicion, and in a pinch, he can retrieve weapons for you from fallen enemies, and even has a small chance to steal weapons from enemies who are still alive. Boomer can defeat regular cultists but is not a great fighter. He is ineffective against most predators and higher-ranking cultists. However, there is a small chance a predator will flee when Boomer engages them.

Boomer is found at Rae Rae’s Pumpkin Farm in Holland Valley. Approaching this farm begins the mission, Man’s Best Friend. Once you free Boomer from his cage and defeat his captors, he joins you as a fang for hire.

Cheeseburger

Characteristic: The Fearsome Grizzly

Class: Heavy

Location: Whitetail Mountains - Linero Building Supplies

Abilities: Bear Arms / will exercise his right to attack.

Abilities: Cross to Bear / will draw focus during combat.

Cheeseburger is a murder machine. His melee attacks are devastating to all but the most heavily armored cultists. Additionally, his imposing presence draws enemies to him. Cheeseburger is most helpful when fighting Angels and other melee focused cultists. His only known weakness is, ironically, cheeseburgers.

Cheeseburger’s mission begins after you clear the F.A.N.G. Center outpost in Whitetail Mountains and you speak to Wade. The first thing you must do to win Cheeseburger’s favor is catch his favorite fish; feed it to him once you find him. The stream just north of Landsdowne Airstrip has what you need. Then head to Linero Building Supplies and feed Cheeseburger the fish you caught. Shortly afterward, defend Cheeseburger against a horde of cultists attempting to capture him. Once you have defeated the cultists, Cheeseburger joins your team as a fang for hire.

Peaches

Characteristic: The Feline Power house

Class: Stealth

Location: Henbane River - Peaches Taxidermy

Abilities: Pounce / will silently take down an enemy.

Abilities: Stalk. / will stay hidden when moving through tall grass.

Peaches can silently dispatch most cultists, makng her a perfect companion when choosing to stealthily liberate an outpost or ambush a Peggie patrol. In the wild, sh remains hidden from all foes when in tall grass until she chooses to strike a target, or she attacks a target of your choice. However, once Peaches is spotted, gunfire can quickly take her down, making her especially vulnerable to heavy-weapon-wielding cultists.

Peaches’ mission begins once you speak to Miss Mable at Peaches Taxidermy in the Henbane River region. She asks you to track down Peaches, who has run off to hunt down the cultists. Get some of Peaches’ special treats on a table near her cage. Next, travel to the nearby camp to search for her. Eliminate the cultists and equip Peaches’ treats. Throw treats on the ground and lead Peaches back to Miss Mable. Once you near Peaches Taxidermy, you and Peaches must defeat the cultists assaulting the area. Lure Peaches near the enemy for added support. After you defeat all the cultists, lure Peaches back into her pen and then talk to Miss Mable. She releases Peaches to your care and she becomes a fang for hire.

RESISTANCE FIGHTERS

All resistance fighters are different. Experiment with each until you find one that matches your play style. The following table lists all abilities that a recruited fighter can potentially have. The first ability is unlocked once a fighter kills [5] enemies, and the second is unlocked at [12] kills. These abilities never change, so if a fighter doesn’t possess the skills you need, feel free to hire and use another. Once your three available recruitment slots are full, it is possible to dismiss a recruited fighter to make room for a new recruit; feel free to experiment on your travels.

Veterinarian / will revive fangs for hire.

Back Up / will revive themselves when downed.

Quick Recovery / will take less time to recover health.

Field Surgeon / will fully revive your health when downed.

Mechanic / will repair the vehicle you drive.

Hoarder / will allow you to carry more ammo.

Fortitude / will draw attention and take more damage.

Herbalist / will grab plant life when not in combat.

Vulture / will find extra stuff when looting a body.

Intimidator / will lay down fire that scares the enemy.

Power Hitter / melee attacks might send enemies flying.

Hot Buckshot / shotgun blasts might start a fire.

Spotter / will tag enemies at the start of combat.

Thick Skin / will be more resilient to damage.

No Tracks / will make you untrackable in tall grass.

Sharpshooter / will snipe less often but be deadlier.

Recycles / will hand over recovered ammo after some kills.

#far cry #fc5 #far cry 5 #EXCERPTS FROM FC5 GAME GUIDE

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