The Winter Tyrant-Chapter 75: No Survivors

Zach sighed heavily as Don’s body hit the floor. It left a large imprint in the snow, as his lifeless eyes were rapidly covered by the blizzard and its cruelty.

He heard a voice erupt in his headset instantly pulling him back to reality.

"You okay, Perseus?"

Zach took a moment to get his thoughts straight. Staring past the dead whose cold bodies were already in the process of being reclaimed by nature.

Instead, he gazed into the snow, the fog, the mist, and the world around him. Covered in layers of frost that would take weeks to thaw, assuming if the world suddenly returned to normal tomorrow. But tomorrow would be even colder... he knew it in his bones.

In that moment, Zach found himself settling into an odd state of clarity as he sighed and shook his head before heading back to his snowmobile once more. Clicking the PTT button on his shoulder as he mounted the vehicle’s seat.

"Never better... I suppose we should inform Elysium of what just happened. I suggest you get that relay up and running if you haven’t already. And tell the big man what just went down out here... After that, rendezvous with me at Outpost Theta. Over and out...."

Zach sped off, leaving his fellow Peltasts to do as they were instructed. They had witnessed everything, and heard every word spoken through Zach’s hot mic. It was deliberate and prepared from the start.

---

Dean sat there inside the home office space that had been converted to a makeshift radio tower. A subtle but capable radio antenna had been erected from his home when it was remodeled into the fortress it had become.

It now acted as a beacon for the Peltasts and a relay to all radio traffic throughout Elysium’s borders.

It came as a challenge code.

"Of all the creatures that breathe and move upon Terra...."

Dean heard the words and instantly responded with the proper answer back to the peltasts out in the field.

"Terra mother’s nothing more frail than man...."

There was static for a few seconds, and finally a voice emerged.

"This is Dimoirites, sir... The situation has grown complicated.... We made contact with an unknown third party near the foundry perimeter. Four individuals, lightly equipped, civilian background by appearance. They were conducting reconnaissance with the intent to recover hostages."

There was static for a second before the voice continued.

"They confirmed that the bandits are taking prisoners and extracting resources from nearby settlements in exchange for their continued survival. Food, water, fuel... munitions when available. Medical supplies hold the highest value. One of the men became unstable during the exchange. He attempted to draw a concealed sidearm. Engagement was immediate and decisive."

Dean sighed, thinking perhaps Zach had already been lost in a gunfight, he stilled himself for a grim report. But what followed was a story he didn’t expect.

The dimoirites gave a clear and concise briefing of what happened. It wasn’t panicked, nor was it abrupt. Anything that needed to be said was said. And anything that was unnecessary for the moment was left out.

In the end, Dean sat there, nodding his head. It was a messy situation... But he had given a brutal and stringent training program to his peltasts, and gave them a large degree of autonomy to operate beyond Elysium’s borders.

And in the end, he had one simple question.

"Did your lochagos leave any survivors?"

There was static once more, but it didn’t last long. The dimorities responded as soon as he received confirmation from the others in his team.

"No, sir... Perseus made sure to that."

The implication didn’t need to be explained. Everyone on the line understood exactly what that meant.

Dean sighed in relief when he heard these words and fell back into his chair. Shaking his head, he responded in the only way he could.

"I understand. I have placed my faith in Perseus, I will naturally expect a full report of your operations the next time you have returned to Elysium for resupply. However, in the mean time continue to follow his orders. I am certain he acted appropriately, over and out."

Dean then sat back in his seat and stared at the ceiling for a long while, mulling over the situation in his head.

If there were one settlement, there would be more. And if the bandits were extracting resources instead of simply slaughtering and looting, then they had already moved beyond opportunistic raiding.

They were organizing and that made them dangerous. But it also made them predictable.

Organized groups required stability. Stability required supply. And supply chains could be mapped, disrupted, and ultimately controlled.

The existence of hostages complicated things, but it also presented an opportunity.

These settlements weren’t allies of the bandits, they were victims, forced into compliance. bled slowly to sustain something that would eventually consume them, regardless.

If Elysium moved carefully... if it struck precisely... then it wouldn’t be seen as another predator. It would be seen as a liberator.

That perception alone was worth more than any single firefight. But only if it was preserved. And that meant no witnesses. No survivors. No conflicting accounts of what had happened beyond the walls.

Zach had understood that.

Dean exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

"Good..." he muttered under his breath. "He’s learning."

There was always the likelihood that a third party would be involved in their conflict. And contingencies had been prepared in case this reality manifested.

However, for them to stumble upon Zach and the boys and nearly blow the whole operation. Let alone try to pull a weapon on Zach? He was glad that Zach had left no survivors.

Not because he reveled in the death, but because it allowed them to approach whoever this third party was later as potential allies, and not as immediate hostiles. Dean rose from his seat and left the radio tower behind.

His voice letting loose as he exited the room.

"At least it wasn’t one of my peltasts who was shot."

---

The others rendezvoused with Zach exactly where he had told them to. It was a small overlook, an outcropping at the edge of town. One of their caches was buried here, but more importantly it was a defendable and remote location.

It was one of the areas preselected as a rendezvous point and a potential campsite before they set out on this week’s patrol.

There the men gathered before Zach, he was sitting there drinking from his canteen, before stashing it away close to his chest, inside his coat, so that his body heat kept the water from freezing.

He stood up from the seat of his snowmobile and took off his helmet. His face was young, likely not even old enough to drink in the old world that once was.

But his eyes expressed a maturity far beyond his years. One gained rapidly through hardship, struggle, and bloodshed.

His voice was calm, cold as ice one might say, as he stared directly into the visors of the men who followed him, and the eyes concealed beneath their darkness.

"Whoever fired the first shot, step forward...."

In truth, he already knew it didn’t matter who had fired first. What mattered was that none of them hesitated.

Out here, hesitation was death; not just for the individual, but for the entire team. And today... none of them had made that mistake.

The young men looked at one another before one finally volunteered for the position. Whether any of them actually knew who had fired the shot, or if the young man in question was simply taking responsibility for the others and their actions, only he really knew.

Zach stared at him as the cold winds swept them by. One second, two seconds, three...

Finally, he silently and simply nodded his head before turning around and pulling the tent kit out from the storage on the back of his snowmobile. It was then, and only then that he finally responded.

"Good job... One of them tried to pull a gun, and you guys took him out before he could become a threat. That’s the kind of quick thinking I like to see. I know the Archon does as well. Now help me get these shelters in order, lest our bikes and their fuel will freeze up within the hour."

The Peltasts quickly got to work, assisting their team’s leader in setting up the camp for the night. It was designed to be concealed, hidden from the world at large.

As for the night’s first watch, Zach planned to take it for himself. He had too many thoughts that would permit him to sleep.

The wind howled softly across the ridge, carrying with it sheets of drifting snow that rolled over the landscape like a living thing.

Below them, the world was quiet.. too quiet. Somewhere in the distance, barely visible through the storm, the faint glow of the foundry cut through the darkness.

A reminder that the enemy was still there, still breathing, and still waiting... always waiting.