In the former state of Ohio many factions fight to claim the land as their own. For one rebellious Wyld, she too battles internally in order to maintain some semblance of her previous life while struggling to adapt to what she had become. Can a negotiator from the Northwest do the impossible and peacefully resolve the conflicts on the battlefield and within this young Wyld's heart?

The Heart of it All
A Wyld Universe Story
Part 3
by AoifeM

(taken from Ian's point of view)

Dawn arrived and a few hours passed since I awoke from my mortar-induced slumber. The woman who referred to herself as “Scott Ryan” decided it was best to wait until I get bearings straight before we have our little chat. In the meantime the Priest, who has since identified himself as Marcus, was doing his part to treat my wounds.

It really isn’t surprising these days. There have been cases where newly formed Wyld changed genders. A lot of times you can tell who they are through the trauma many of those Wyld suffer as a result. While many countries do have counseling services in order to deal with mental afflictions, many Wyld have no choice but to hide their problems in fear of repercussions.

Either way, using the moniker “Scott Ryan” while being female is very genius indeed.

Marcus came into the room, handing me supper. I was hungry, but this mush could give nightmares to a top dollar French chef.

“Sorry this isn’t much,” he empathized. “It’s hard to find decent food when the soil is barren and the crops are dying.”

I appreciated it nonetheless. Something made me wonder though. Why is a priest working for a bunch of Wyld, let alone a rebellion?

He seemed to recognize the puzzling look on my face. “You have a question for me I take it?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “I see that you’re a priest.”

He seemed to have understood what I was getting at. “Only in God’s eyes. My church excommunicated me a long time back. Apparently we’re all God’s children, except those with tails, three eyes, or are 15 feet tall.”

He paused as I let the thought sink in. Marcus was a Wyld sympathizer.

“Have you ever heard of Martin Luther King?” he asked, “There was a time where this man was revered. He brought people together. Black, White, he worked hard to make that happen. That’s what made me become a preacher.”

“So why this? Why the rebellion?”

“Normally, I’d be one to fight this in a non-violent manner,” He admitted as a streak of guilt fell on his face. “But you can’t just force a strike, or shut down production, or starve yourself and try to get the world to pity you. The world would love to see us dead, and not think twice about it.”

“So this is a fight for survival.”

“There won’t be any Wyld pride parades, and no underground railroads leading to freedom. Here, we are on our own. This is our Megiddo, and if there was a Rapture, it must have happened long before this. Now I pray God for strength in hope that we may see the light at the end of this tunnel.”

I had to admire this man. It could’ve been easy for him to turn face and walk away, but he stood steadfast in his convictions. Too many people would rather put up with it than take a stand. Perhaps I had the wrong first impressions of this group of people.

…Then again it’s not like he was the major threat of this group either. And some people turn fanatical when defending their beliefs. While Marcus told a good story, I need to assuage my fears by speaking with someone else.

I set my breakfast aside and jumped out of bed, feeling fresh and unbelievably vibrant. To believe only days before I was knocking on Death’s door.

“I’m going to see Scott,” I told him.

It’s surprising how quiet this place was. Seemed like everywhere else the echoes of war could be heard overhead, but this place remained mostly unscathed. Looking at it, you could almost see the picturesque visions of Ohio before the taming, like the ones you’d see in old history textbooks.

I remembered the story about the Wyld Purge. It all started, apparently when some young girl from Columbus was murdered. Reports claimed that this girl was murdered by a rampant Wyld. That girl was the sister of General Jackson Bigsby Wells, the youngest and most accomplished member of the newly reformed Confederate Army. He supposedly dealt with the murderer, but it wasn’t enough. Armed with not only an army but the charisma that could mesmerize an entire crowd, he called for the extermination of all Wyld. The result was the Wyld Purge, and the infighting eventually caused the destruction of the Ohio capitol, and created the mess that we’re still in 10 years later.

Today he sits behind a desk in the Confederate Capital of Nashville, but you can bet his prints are all over what is happening here.

Marcus directed me to the house in which Scott was staying. He stated that She tends to stay in different quarters than most of the other soldiers, and only allows Trish to room with her, mostly for support.

So I knocked on the door, and sure enough Trish answered, with the Red Haired Woman known as Scott right behind her.

“I was told you were staying here. I’d like to have this discussion if you’re ready.”

With a nod directed toward her roommate, Scott sent Trish away, closing the door behind us.

“I see you’re up and moving,” she began.

“Yeah,” I confirmed, stretching out a little, testing my muscles to double check. “I’m surprised, to be honest actually.”

“Trish is good at what she does,” Scott stated matter of factly. She pulled up a chair and sat down, looking me over.

“Look,” she continued, letting out a sigh, “I just want you to know I didn’t blow up that build back there.”

“They look kind of like your guys,” I claimed, “I’ve seen what some of your soldiers look like.”

With a quick retort she snapped back at me, “And I’m telling you it wasn’t my troops!” Silence filled the room, seeing we were at an impasse. She calmed herself down, and continued.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.” She stood up using her hands to point at her body. “Being as I am sometimes I can’t help it from time to time.”

“So I take it you weren’t always like this?” I quipped.

“No. At one time my name did match the body.” She looked down, obviously this fact brought pain into her eyes.

Suddenly she moved on to a different subject, “Look. Trust me. I truly wouldn’t want to sabotage such a thing. I want peace too; for us and for the other nations.”

Honestly, and I don’t know why, I decided to believe her. To me, I almost felt like she felt just as awful as I did about the incident. Perhaps it was the warm, yet determined glow of her green eyes. She didn’t seem to be the cold blooded killer that normally was associated with her.

“When we got there,” She continued, “the damage was done. Going to a region meeting up with four armies to talk peace, even if under the watchful eye of a neutral nation, is still a risky prospect. Someone could pick us off with relative ease if we went in through the proverbial ‘front door.’ And as you can see, we’re not a professional army. We’re just a guerilla group of Wyld, relying mostly on our powers, not training to do our battles.”

She made a good point, You can’t be too safe here, as I found out.

“I wanted to save as many people I could, but the building was leveled, and by the time we got there, most of the victims were dead. Somehow you were still alive.”

“And so you rescued me.” I finished her train of thought.

“We transported you from Columbus here.” She confirmed. “Although if I was just in it to treat you I wouldn’t have revealed myself to you.”

“There was a catch!?” I asked, stunned.

“You don’t have to do this, I won’t make you,” she said calming me down. “I ain’t one to make people into personal slaves.”

With a quizzical look I asked, “What is it you want from me?”

“I want you to take me name,” She declared, “I want you to be Scott Ryan.”

What does she mean by that? “Be” Scott Ryan? That didn’t make sense at all.

“No one knows who I really am,” She went on, “not even my army. They just assume that Trish is my Superior, or older sister, or whatever. To them, I’m just another soldier in the fight.”

She must be amazing being able to hide her identity even in front of her own men.

“My men grow restless,” She admitted. “They think they’re fighting for an imaginary hero. We have no morale, and I fear the worst. Plus,” she paused, then immediately blurted out, “I need an army! I need a figurehead that is not only male but someone who can really people! You have the charisma, you have the intelligence. You know people far and wide! You can work with other nations, negotiate, and find compromise. You have all the qualities necessary to be the leader of the unit!”

I didn’t know what to say. I was flabbergasted. I didn’t even think my skills would hold so much merit. Indeed I was good at words, and rather level headed, but she’s asking me to “Be” her- Scott Ryan. Can you just pass on your name like it’s some kind of title? It’s not like she’s Caesar or anything.

“Look, think of it like this,” She said. “Think of it as I’m the President and you’re the Prime Minister. I’ll help you manage the troops, plan our strategies, and tell you how to go about doing things. Basically, you’re my mouthpiece- no offense.”

“None taken.”

“And Trish and Marcus can help you out. They’ve carried out my decisions in my place, they probably can help you get comfortable.”

This was still a lot to consider. And she knew it; she just had to tug at my heart strings. “I want to be free! I want to be like your Cascadia! Or Japan! Or Ireland! Why can’t I-why can’t all Wyld, be free?”

Feeling dejected I let out a sigh. This is what I get for getting involved. I really just wanted to say ‘To hell with it!’ and head back home to Unity. Sadly I doubt I could, my bodyguards were all dead, no access to any outside communication, and going out in a foreign land all alone, particularly during war, was suicide. The truth of the matter was Scott and her rebels were all that I had.

…I can’t believe I’m about to go through with this, I thought back to myself.