23. S P A M A N D V A N E X A : Dreamers

EPILOGUE

ARMY

2024

"PF Support, we've got some reports of suspicious activity over by the Safespace sub-district. Nearest units, please respond."

Vanexa's ear twitched as she raised a finger to it. "This is Agent Pierce of Unit 17," she reported. "That's in our wheelhouse. We'll take care of it."

"Yeah, no sweat!" Spam agreed, putting on his helmet and goggles. "We'll be done in a jiffy!"

"Roger that, 17. Caution is advised: suspects may be armed and dangerous."

"Yeah? Well, so are we." Vanexa revved her motorcycle's engine and took off down the street with Spam right on her tail. "What do you think it is this time?" she asked, speaking into her helmet's commlink. "Crusaders? They usually target the Safespace, right?"

"Yup! It's probably them again!" Spam agreed. "We'll take 'em out easy!"

"Don't underestimate them," Vanexa warned. "The assassin might be there this time."

"Right. I guess we..."

Spam trailed off as he and Vanexa rounded a corner, coming to screeching halts upon seeing what they were up against.

Shockingly, it was not Crusaders, nor Faithful, nor gangsters, or even Masked... but a massive crowd of Havenites gathered in the street—and they were all armed to the teeth.

"Holy..." Vanexa began, unable to finish as her eyes widened.

"What the heck?!" Spam exclaimed. "What's going on here?"

Vanexa watched as the Havenites continued to march down the street, undaunted by the appearance of the two agents. Then she frantically raised a paw to her ear, shouting, "Dispatch, this is Agent Pierce! We've got about fifty hostiles on Dalton Street, all armed! Requesting immediate backup!"

"Copy, Pierce. Hold your position; B-Team's en route."

Vanexa hissed a curse under her breath and revved her engine, streaking in front of the crowd and stopping. "HEY!" she shouted. "WHAT THE HECK IS THIS?!"

The person at the front of the crowd—a tall, lean half-ogre with swamp-green skin, stringy brown hair, and burn scars all over his body—held up his free hand, bringing the crowd to a halt. "Get out of our way, Pierce," he snarled. "Our fight's not with you."

"Yeah? Then who's it with?" Spam snapped, riding over to Vanexa's side. "Why all the guns and hoopla, chap?"

"That's none of your business," the half-ogre snapped back. "Now move."

"We are agents of Xirxine's Protector Force Support Team," Vanexa growled, her eyes flashing dangerously. "You'll tell us what's going on right now, or suffer the consequences."

"Xirxine?" The half-ogre's eyes narrowed. "Oh. So you guys joined them, too."

"Hey, Bog," one of the marchers, an anthropomorphic bat, called, a finger raise to his ear. "We've got incoming. B-Team."

"ETA?" Bog asked, glancing at the bat.

"Last spotted 'em in C!, so I'd say about three minutes," the bat reported. "D---! They're some fast sons of b---hes."

"We'll be faster." Bog turned back to Spam and Vanexa. "You wanna know why we're marching?" he asked in a low voice. "Why we're getting ready to fight?" He raised his automatic rifle and poked Spam in the chest with its muzzle. "It's because of people like you. Xirxine, the Protectors, and everyone else who messed up our home. We're fighting to restore the balance—to bring true peace back to Safe Haven."