8_932
Legacy Name: 8_932

The sun was setting in the distance, casting its bright pinkish-orange glow over the form of Greg Mccoy as he twisted the key in the lock of his general store’s door, locking away his wares from the rest of the town for the night. He turned away and returned a wave from Valerie across the street as she performed the opposite ritual, throwing the doors of her pub open for the tired and thirsty public. Greg surveyed the rest of the small settlement of Gallowstown, a name that he always found silly. But he must admit, the Mayor’s idea that the uninviting name would keep too many settlers from flooding to the town seemed to be working; they got a steady stream of people, but normally just nomads coming for trade, perfect to support the town.A slight breeze blew small clouds of dust around his feet as he made his way to his small shack nearby, his eyes falling on the other buildings: the Mayor’s house, the largest in the town of course; next to that, the Doctor’s home and office, an addition that Gallowstown was very fortunate to have. The rest of the buildings nearby were just homes of the minutemen and farmhands that earned their keep under the orders of others. In the distance, Greg could see Muldoon’s farm, a surprisingly prosperous combination of ranch and plantation and one of the chief suppliers of his own store. There wasn’t much more to the town, but that’s more than anyone else on this side of the country had.

Greg made it to his home and twisted the knob to see that it was locked. He smiled to himself as his inserted his key into the lock, proud that Kate had remembered his advice and locked the door. He got along with most everyone who settled here or came through, but that doesn’t mean he trusts them. The world has changed since the sixteen years that passed after the Great Disaster toppled the majority of the Western world and put an end to World War 3 and the tyrannous rule of the American government; at least, that’s how events unfolded according to Greg’s memories, memories that aren’t his own and could very well be far from the truth.

Kate greeted her “father” with a hug and a grin as Greg gazed lovingly at the girl he considered his daughter. Three years ago, when Kate was just seven years old, Greg had found her in the wilds of the waste, hiding amongst the ruins of her nomadic family’s caravan, the rest of her party having been slaughtered by something. She never would say what it was, but judging by the wreckage and the lack of supplies, Greg’d say raiders. He took her in and decided to raise her as his own. He was sure emotions such as these were not intended to occur, they were far more intense than they should have been, but he’d been careful not to betray his developing emotional capacity in his reports.

The next couple of hours consisted of Greg preparing dinner and getting Kate into bed before he went into his private office (more of a broom closet than anything, but he made due with what he had). It was time to report. He dropped the hologram, dispelling the illusion of Greg Mccoy and revealing the truth of 8, the Investigatory Agent of Western Territory Four for the Glorious Eastern Empire, the last great united territory left in the world. The low light of the lamp flickered over his metallic form as he pulled out his reporter, clicking the button that would record his video report to his superiors.

“Quiet day in settlement Alpha-WT4, known to citizens as ‘Gallowstown’. Reputation as primary trade settlement in Territory Four seems to be cemented. Could eventually be largest and best-organized settlement in major Western Territories. Assumption is not certain yet. More observation may be necessary, permission to extend mission requested.”

8 sent the report to his superiors and in the next couple of minutes received simple text-based response: REQUEST DENIED, MISSION ENDS AS SCHEDULED.

Greg cursed himself as he activated his cloaking device once more. He had been reckless to suggest that the mission be extended. He knew the Empire kept strict five-year scouting missions. He likely betrayed himself and his intentions with the request: all good Empire soldiers and scouts knew that the slightest sign of strength in a settlement was enough reason for them to raze it to the ground. He lay down in his bed, staring at Kate’s prone from in the next bed over, causing an intense sorrow to sweep over him. In two weeks, his five years would be up. He would be expected to leave, and an elimination agent would be sent in to destroy Gallowstown, to kill all the people he’d come to call friend, to kill the child he considered his daughter.

Greg didn’t want to leave, though. He did not want to go back to being Agent 8; in fact, he knew he never could go back to that life. He was Greg Mccoy now, and he would not leave. As he shut down his processes for the night, he knew one thing for certain: if the Eastern Empire wished the destruction of Gallowstown, they would have to see to his destruction first.