Present Day. The Vandal walked cautiously along the road. Its horned helmet swivelled from side to side, twin sets of double eye optics glowing a bright light blue as it regarded its surroundings. Its armour was a scratched and gauged mix of yellow-tinted white and brown pieces that hugged a body tight with athletic muscle as if it were custom made. Its upper arms cradled a large weapon whilst the lower moved back and forth, claws flexing in anticipation of action. Felicia watched it through her rifle's scope. The only sound it made was a scrunching of debris underfoot as it roamed in a zig-zag pattern, abruptly and fluidly changing direction like a lone stage dancer practicing its art. Gradually it moved further and further away until it was lost behind the remains of an old roadhouse. The young woman raised her rifle and stared after it, one hand absently brushing short brown curls away from her face. Crouching, she slowly made her way through what had once been a car park, most of the rusted metal vehicle bodies still sitting in orderly lines. She retraced her previous steps perfectly and in moments was passing under a large cracked smiling plastic face greeting her to 'The Drive-through' and 'The Best Burgers in Western Australia!'. Strange things had survived the apocalypse. She remembered an outdoor table laid ready for a meal standing untouched beside the ruin of a home, dust and dirt coating carefully positioned cutlery and tableware. An intricate metal sculpture had stood before a deep crater, somehow able to stand on its thin legs whilst something else had been obliterated. She had walked through a children's playground with swings gently moving in the wind before the broken husk of a tank; and she had seen a small grey dog that had silently watched her pass from atop a pile of bones several times its size. Each scene spoke of the insanity and unpredictability of their reality. You could not make sense of this life, to try would break you. You just had to take it in, accept it and move on. Jaspiel bobbed his head to her in greeting from a serving hatch as she approached. She did the same in acknowledgement and entered the building through a nearby fire exit. The building was mostly intact with only one side having collapsed. The roof had dropped to cover the fallen wall and had remained in virtually a single piece, albeit one with its back broken. They had found the inside clear of rubble and a storage locker that was unsurprisingly empty, but surprisingly could still be shut tight. This had been their home for the past ten days. Mirim and Hausen were inside the locker and watching the doorway as she neared, Mirim with her weapon in hand, Hausen with his laid across his lap. Dirty rags were discarded around him from where he had obviously been cleaning it. "It's back". "You sure its the same one?" Hausen asked, rubbing down the rifle barrel as he continued to look at her. Felicia raised her eyebrows at him. The older man raised one hand in the air in apology. "I'm just saying..." "It has an emblem on the top of its helmet, the left side of which has several large scratches running into it almost to the design's centre. It's also got several similar scratches on its left shoulder plate and across its chest, so yes I know its the same one". "Any others?" Mirim asked. Felcia shook her head. "It's alone again. That's why I'm going to follow it if it comes back". Mirim and Hausen remained silent, both looking at the other woman. "Look", Felicia said and she crouched to kneel before them. "We know something is going on. I'm going to see if I can find anything". "Are you sure you're ready?" Hausen's voice was soft and heavy with concern. The young woman's eyes tightened and she stood taller, muscles in her face flexing as she ground her teeth. "I am going. I was not asking you". Hausen returned her frigid stare with one of his own. "That's not how we work" he said flatly then turned his head abruptly as Mirim laid a hand on his shoulder. "Let's see if it turns up tomorrow" the older woman said, looking at each of them as she spoke. "I am going" Felicia repeated and then strode from the locker. "After Mattaus..." Hausen began. "...she needs some time for herself again" Mirim finished. "She was surviving alone before she joined us. Mattaus really shook her. She needs to prove to herself she is still strong". Hausen grimaced but remained silent. "Besides", the woman continued. "Mattaus is out there on his own". "That's different". "Because she is a woman?" "You of all people know I don't think that way" Hausen replied forcefully. "Then what is it?" The older man waved his hand in the direction Felicia had walked. "She is barely more than a child". "There are no children out here any more", Mirim said quietly. "No one has that luxury". The Vandal swayed as it moved and seemed totally disorientated when it tried to turn to its left. Felicia watched in rapt fascination as it knocked into an empty, corroded metal canister and rebounded with a swift skip as if trying to distance itself from its mistake. Four steps later it fell against a small wall sending chunks of masonry clattering to the ground. It dropped to a crouch, threw its arms into the air and howled. It was a horrifyingly alien sound, a cacophony of screeches and a hint of growled words. Felicia watched as it ranted and vented. Finally it's arms dropped and it continued on its way, albeit at a much slower and deliberate pace. She did not know exactly how long she followed the Vandal. Minutes and hours meant nothing in the wastes, there was little that could measure time any more. What did matter was the start, middle and end of the day. Temperature and light were survival. When she had started following the Fallen it had been early morning, the day cool but warming rapidly. The heat had come and gone though and a slight breeze had gusted up from the south carrying a noticeable chill. Looking at the large bright sun in the clear deep blue sky, Felicia saw that it was well past midday. The alien had taken her along a wide road with little on or beside it. The land swept out from the cracked tarmac in a vast dusty, sandy plain scattered with boulders and desert shrubs that stretched unbroken to the horizon. The road itself was similarly empty with only a handful of scattered vehicles. She artfully used what there was though, hiding beside and darting between the haphazardly scattered metal shells and natural growths, keeping herself small and unseen. Abruptly the Vandal turned off the road and walked out into the desolate land surrounding it, small plumes of dust rising with each footfall to be swept away on the light wind. Felicia crouched silently beside an old pick-up truck laying on its side and watched it wander drunkenly away through the glassless door window. Just. There is just enough. Carefully she calculated a path where she could still find cover to hide herself. Taking a deep breath she began to follow. The road was still in sight when she found the dead Dreg. The smell brought her to it, a noxious mixed odour of cooked and rancid meat. It lay where it had obviously collapsed. It's face was turned to one side and its limbs were stretched wide beside it. It reminded Felicia of a flattened spider. The ground was raked beside the two clawed upper hands where it had obviously struggled and its gloves were thick with the dirt it had been desperately scratching at. Grooves beside its amputated lower stumps told the same story. Nervously she rolled it over, the body stiff where it had boiled within its armour in the unforgiving heat. There were no obvious injuries and its face mask was still securely fastened. There was nothing to tell her how it had died. The young woman stared at it, tracing the contours of its helmet. She had been this close to the Fallen many times before, both Dregs and Vandals. Out here you made sure what looked dead was dead, you always followed-up and made sure of a kill. No matter how many times she had stared at them though, they were still so uncompromisingly alien to her. And she hated them. She was more than a little disappointed that this time it had not been her that had killed it. She grasped its head and violently twisted it, the neck snapping with a brittle crunch. Felicia looked up at the dimming sky. The light was already failing. The sun set swiftly this time of year and it would be dark soon. She returned her gaze to the Vandal a good way ahead of her. I could do it, she thought. I could still track it to its camp. She almost continued, but finally thought better of it. It would wait for tomorrow. Removing the shock-knife from the alien's belt and sliding it behind her own she turned back.