resistance | far cry 5

Chapter One - History

Every step, she questioned John Seed's words. His unforgettable voice rang through her ears at the most unfortunate times. And he knew it, too. He knew the effect he had on people. Nights spent restlessly sleeping, because of his words: "we'll come for you." She wasn't afraid of him, no. She was afraid of the idea she could be taken at any time, without a warning. She had already met him once. And that one time should have been enough for him to realize not to mess with her. But he was stubborn, like her. He wouldn't let her get away quite so fast. Not without more confrontation.

She sat at the bar alone, a glass of whiskey below her. Her right hand rested on her forehead as she contemplated drinking from the bottle rather than the glass. She regretted coming back to Falls End immediately. She was hounded by the townspeople. All that she wanted was a break, just to sit and forget about her duties. And right now was the best time to forget.

"I can't believe you had the balls to talk to him like that. No one has ever stood up to him." The woman was referring to John. She spoke fast, as if she was meeting her celebrity crush.

"It was something else," she muttered, remembering what it was like to see his face up close. She brought the glass to her lips and finished the rest, not wincing once as it trickled down her throat painfully. The woman was a bit surprised at the lack of excitement and detail. Without needing any further clue, she walked away from the coping deputy.

She remembered seeing his crystal blue eyes stare into her's, and how convincing he tried to make himself be. It was almost humorous, at first, how intimidating he thought himself to be. But she knew others were terrified of him. They looked into his eyes and saw death; they saw the torture and pain. She saw his history, his reasoning for enjoying such violent things. And for that reason only, he didn't scare her in the slightest. He wasn't just a man who enjoyed pain. He was a man with a tragic past, and a purpose. The purpose may be skewed, but it still remained.

"I know you want to be alone right now," a familiar voice said behind her, "but I want to know what's going on inside your head right now." The owner of the voice sat on the barstool next to her.

She scoffed at the man. Out of everyone in the county, she respected Pastor Jerome the most. Religion may not be at the top of her list of the most important things in life, but he is a respectable man. One who knew of boundaries and feelings.

"It's a mess," she finally declared.

Jerome laughed before pouring a glass of whiskey for himself, and refilling her glass. "Really, though. Talk to me. You've barely spoken a word since last night. What did he do to you?" His voice got comfortably lower, as he understood the fact she didn't want to make the story public knowledge.

"He just... talked to me."

"Talked? That's it?"

"Believe it or not, yeah." She shifted in her seat to face Pastor Jerome.

"I would have expected more from a guy like him."

"He may know not to fuck with us now. He can tease the resistance day in and day out, which is what he's doing happily. But he knows what his family has been told, and he knows they are promises. Not threats."

"And that's why we needed someone like you. Everyone is afraid of standing up to them. Including me," he laughed. He raised his glass in a mini-cheers and took a drink.

She nodded in agreement and drank with him. "Sometimes you just need to push a little to get what you want."

"Amen to that," he agreed.

How are you doing today?