Wash Away.

“Man. Anarchy. Man-Archy. MANarchy.”

It was something Penny had spouted off earlier that day, and Kale had immediately taken a liking to the portmanteau. The word rolled off of Kale’s tongue, and repeatedly saying it over and over, especially emphasizing the “man” part of the compound word, provided him with a momentary escape from what it was he was preparing to do.

His conversation with Deacon the night before had taken on a timeless sense. What was said between them had already been formulated in their consciousness years before; the words had merely waited for their time to be spoken. Both Kale and Deacon’s legs dangled over the edge of the roof like they once had many moons before, the conversation between the pair lasting for a period of time that seemed to dwell simultaneously between “forever” and “all too brief.”

—

Deacon didn’t taste the tobacco flavored smoke of the cigarette clamped between his wind-chapped lips as he watched Kale march the Dynames to a small spit of land that would remain untouched by the coming onslaught. The Assassin’s emotions were a mix of sadness, and an almost electric sense of excitement for what the future was going to bring. He had finally come home, both literally and emotionally, but in his heart of hearts he always knew it wasn’t going to last. He was ready to leave, to fight the world so to speak, but before he moved on he had to witness the funeral of the land that had breathed so much life into him.

—

It was odd, Kale thought to himself, how he was so attached to the Empire Wastelands. It was an inhospitable hellhole that not even a mother could love. The streets were filled with powdery red sand, the kind that got into your lungs and never came out. Each building was a unique deathtrap, every step potentially your last as you crawled through the twisted metal and broken glass. If one was lucky enough to run across an animal still living in the Wastes it was likely to be diseased, or uncomfortably interested in attacking you; usually both.

Despite all of its flaws, or maybe because of them, the Adventurer knew he would miss roaming its forsaken streets. Walking the green mobile suit to the crest of rocks he had chosen to stand witness from, Kale positioned the Dynames with the Empire Wastes to its back, and the infinite vista of Lake Michigan to its front. He waited patiently for the sun to come to that magical point where half of the burning red globe had dipped beneath the horizon, its other half desperately clinging to the sky.

“Are you ready Kale?”

The 00 had walked to where Kale and the Dynames stood, Deacon ready for what was about to happen.

“No, I really don’t think I am.”

Regardless of what he said or felt, Kale mashed the button that triggered the bombs that he had installed on nearly a mile of the seawall that dividing lake from land. The barrier disappeared in a flurry of blue and black water with white crests, and car-sized chunks of concrete. Quickly turning red from the sands of the Empire Waste, the tsunami consumed all of Great Lakes II in a flash, rapidly expanding into the deserted city once known as Chicago. Neither the Dynames nor 00 moved as their pilots watched the torrent of red waves race through street and building alike, taking over the Empire Wastes.

It took nearly five minutes for the water to finally stop expanding, the surge losing all momentum only a couple hundred yards from Low Chicago. The deed was done, neither pilot speaking for several minutes. It was Kale, his voice not carrying his usual optimism or wit, who spoke first.

“Deacon, how many bases does this leave us with to take care of?”

The grizzled mercenary thought for a moment, mentally tallying every base he was aware of before giving a ballpark figure over the COM.

“Around sixty. Maybe more, maybe less.”

The man inside of the Dynames sighed for a moment, his task clearly spelled out in front of him. With another deep breath Kale sat up, his voice once again carrying his normal, boisterous, optimism as he replied.

“They don’t stand a chance. Not with Deacon and Kale back together once and for all!”

Inside of the 00, its pilot did something he had found himself doing more of since he had found Kale again. Deacon smiled.

“Not a chance in hell.”

Outcome: Great Lakes II destroyed.