Community Spotlight – Q3 2026

Welcome to the Q3 2026 Community Spotlight! With DayZ update 1.30 in full swing, the DUG community has been busy, and we’re excited to share some of the best stories, events, and artwork our community has created. If you missed our last edition, go check out the previous Community Spotlight catch-up.
Behind the stories, videos, and artwork is a lot of time and creativity, and we want to give those who put in the effort a moment in the spotlight. The content below is only a taste of what this community is capable of. There’s so much more waiting on the DayzUnderground Subreddit.
Not a member of our private subreddit yet? Once you’ve spent some time on our servers and understand what the DUG community is all about you can apply to join. If you have any questions feel free to ask in our Discord.

We hope to see you on the coast soon!

Let’s start with some DayzUnderground milestones:

Jul 9, 2026 – Clothing items added thanks to Asmondian

Jul 24, 2026 – We welcomed 3 new moderators (Dillon, Bagman, and Tina) to the staff team

Aug 17, 2026 – We introduced our new Cannibal (kuru) system rework

Sep 19, 2026 – We worked with DayZ developer and artist Lad testing new Winter Chernarus V2 features

Oct 2, 2025 – DUG was mentioned in the September DayZ Community Spotlight put together by our friends Friendly?: A DayZ Podcast

Now, let’s show off the amazing content our community has made!

“Mantle” by Tino

Following Tino and Roy’s commitment to the cause, they rise through the ranks of the insurgency.

Video by Tino

“Meet Whisper (Dayz Underground Character Intro)” by Whisper

Novak reaches from the void to find a malleable soul to aid him in his return.

Video by Lame Tendencies

“Father Abraham Meets the Cult of Papa” by Firecross

Father Abraham is confronted by the Cult of Papa

Video by Firecross

“A Declaration of War” by Lavender Flowers

Video by LaVNDR

“Invictus – A DayZ Underground Story” by The Refuge

Video by The Refuge

“Red Livonian: Issue 12” by Ent

“Thrust In Thy Sickle” by ThePetrifyingBaghead

Don’t talk to them. We don’t talk to the unclean. Cattle don’t get words. Words are for saving things and I stopped saving things, stopped it, down in the dark, some year, doesn’t matter which. They think silence is our piety. It isn’t holy. They aren’t worth the breath. Four days now I haven’t made a single sound, not one utterance. Only one candle down here, and it’s been burning for a long time.

Not a man. Get that first. Not a man, don’t have the name anymore either. Burned them together the same night, the name and the man. Good, good riddance, both of them the same rot; that little voice every one of them has up there; going me, me, I’m someone, I matter. That. That’s the disease. That’s the whole disease right there. There’s no me. There’s the grey and there’s the meat that isn’t grey yet, and this whole city is a carcass. All of it. Quiet, grey. clean. We can’t leave one full man walking around thinking he’s owed his next breath. We can’t, it doesn’t work, the wound just keeps weeping. We’re the thing that closes it. Burn it till in his name until there’s nothing left to rot, and then burn that, and then the quiet. The silence we’ve wanted since I had a name to want it with.

Tonight it’s the ones on the dock. Lord knows I’ve watched them for four days and I hate them so cleanly it’s nearly the other thing. Nearly love.

Look at them. Look at the pride. Stacking the block. Cleaning their iron. The little heathens go round and round on their little business, acting by their little ranks. The brazenness, the vanity of it. It makes my mouth water, it actually does. I can feel it. That’s not a fort. That’s a tomb. They’ve been laying it for months, block by block, for us, and they’ll never get it. Not even while it’s happening. The wall will never keep us out, but it will keep them in.

The pilgrims already have the taste. Down at the stone edge, the water, a few nights back, out in the open in the filthy light. Opened a few up and took a fistful of them into their throats before they got pulled under themselves. No prayers for them. We don’t mourn the buried ones.

I know their habits. Every wretched one.

The seam in the night when the watch turns over and nobody’s holding anything. The weedy low place where they never bothered to finish the wall. The ones that went for water, standing their rifles up on the rail to carry it. You can’t hold your breath and your thirst both, can you? and they pick the thirst, every time, every single time, like the animals they are.

They think the routine keeps them safe, but habit is just the groove worn smooth for the blade. Everything they built, every clean line of their essence is just a map of where they neglect to look. I’ve spent four days being the thing that stands in every place they don’t look. Patient. Quiet. My body is a vessel, filled to the teeth with something ancient and cold as water from a deep well.

They’re coming down now. From the water. I feel them before I hear them. I’m done praying now. Get up – don’t rush. Haste is a human thing, and you have left that behind. You learned this place the way dirt learns of the rain. Soon the city will be as quiet as us again.

“The Ghost of You” by Sam

“…”

Sam’s finger loosened on the trigger. The woman in front of her was visibly shaking. Tied up,
looking slightly paler than she had ten minutes ago.

What was her name again?

Allison.

Her name was Allison. The woman in front of her was innocent, she could already tell. Yet the desire to keep her in this position was somehow greater than letting her run off freely like that.

It was a risk. Too big of a risk if something else went down, innocent or not.

—

After disbanding, The Fetch all had gone on different paths. It had been forever since Sam had been a nomad. As far as she remembered they had been ‘Sam and Debbie’ the second she left New Balota up until this point. Debbie always had been in her corner, yelling at her for walking through the fields, jumping down rocks or starting fires next to main roads. They had been there for each other through thick and thin.

Sam still saw Debbie around now and then, but it was hard to meet up when they were both occupied with their own things. She had kept her promise and walked the trails of Chernarus to find answers to the questions she had in life.

Was there even still good in the world left?

A cliche in the books she had once read, a moral philosophical question Sam had asked friends and travelers she came across, yet none had given her an answer that had satisfied her. She knew she needed to focus on something else, so she tried to fulfill one of her bucket list items: walking the red trail of Chernarus. Thinking it was probably a dangerous one, Sam found herself traveling along the trails to the Golden Compass Hiking Club, hoping they would provide some advice and guidance on her journey to walk the trail.

In the woods near Dolina, Sam was getting closer to her destination. The rain had been unbearable. Dark, hard to see even meters in front of her, she tripped over something in the mud. She had cursed. It had been a fucking mistake, all of it.

The rain stopped, and so did all her cares in the world. Sam was cold, shivering, with everything on her body drenched from the rain. She lit a fire in the middle of the woods. What’s the worst that could happen, right? Looking over her shoulder, she took the time to wring out her clothes and sort through her items. The map the Woodsmen had given her barely held it together. She tried opening it as the paper ripped, leaving her with one piece of it: the South, Mogilevka.

She hadn’t seen Mufasa in ages. Despite her miserable position a smirk had formed on her face, remembering how Debbie and herself would bicker in the Helping Hands compound. Mufasa would hand them a pair of boxing gloves each to sort themselves out. The man never hesitated to spare them a piece of clothing, some medicine and as always food and water for the road. She had looked back at the trail she just walked, and figured that maybe saying hi before her journey wouldn’t hurt.

Movement around her sucked Sam back into reality. Her arms and shoulder aching as the fatigue slowly kicked in. God, she really wasn’t used to holding a gun this long. The sound of the other woman’s stomach growling made her internally flinch.

Sam never extended the same grace Mufasa had given her. Instead, she turned her back on the woman, tied her up and held her at gunpoint. All they needed to know was if Allison was involved with the individuals who had pulled a gun on her people in their compound, but they hadn’t found anything incriminating in her pockets.

“I-I promise I had nothing to do with it.” Allison’s shaking voice told her, eyes on the door, nervously moving left to right. The men were outside and it was just the two of them in the shed. Gunfire outside made them both look up, her fingers tightened around the gun. Sam’s eyes immediately darted on Allison.

“Don’t you dare move, you understand me? Stay here.” She hissed, exhaling deeply trying to release some tension in her body. “Don’t move from your spot. It’s for your own safety.”.

The terrified look on the other woman’s face never left as she agreed another growl emerged from her stomach. Sam eyed the door knowing the others were occupied with whatever was going out there. It was a risk, one she was willing, no, had to take.

“I’m just putting some food in your bag, that’s all.” She said, inching closer, filling the empty spots with chicken, adding a can of bacon. The silence in response was loud enough to hear the crickets outside the shed chirping.

“Eat some. Free yourself, but don’t try anything funny.” She warned, watching Allison struggle out of her restraints.

Had they tied her up too tightly?

Sam tried to grasp a glimpse of her wrists. What was Allison going to do the second she left their compound? Run home? Slander their names? Tell the Fireflies? The Merry Men? Their close alliances?

Her nail lightly scratched the side of her gun.

Or should she put an end to it right then and there? Pull the trigger?

She swallowed hard at the thought of it. Sam couldn’t even remember the last time she had taken an innocent life.. At least not with purpose. Her stomach ached, her throat dry as she tried to clear it.

The other woman’s eyes darted between Sam, her gun and the door with each bite she took. Her movements deliberate, her posture tense despite being crouched down on the floor. The blood stained on her shoes had dried up. All alone, with no one in her corner. No friend, no family member to lean on, just a group of strangers who had turned on her after witnessing the gunfire.

A rude reminder that fear and danger were always walking hand in hand in the shadows of Chernarus, always lurking and a short distance away from making an appearance.

Similar to when Sam witnessed the Forsaken Loyalists show up at the East Side Traders months and months ago.

To see Rouj’s cut up body at the end of the New Balota docks.

The moment the Legionnaires had turned on her and the rest of The Fetch.

When she was kidnapped by The Insurgency.

Or by The Duchy, which forced her to drag her body across the forest back to Mogilevka.

Sam exhaled deeply, wondering if Allison could hear the way her heart was beating against her ribcage. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. One finger brushed lightly against the trigger.

Was there actually still good in the world?

—

Time had passed since they had Allison in their barn, ironically enough the woman had joined the Helping Hands as a finger. They had come to terms with the past, yet it was hard to forget when Sam got a glimpse of the banged up canned bacon that remained in Allison’s bag. It made her wonder, motivated to find answers to questions she still had.

She surrounded herself with people even outside of The Hands to find answers to her questions. As some brushed her off, others were more receptive to her. It’s what brought her on her current trip to the west, walking through the forest as the last drops fell from the sky.

The soil beneath her black chucks dirtied the white laces as she followed him through the woods. His black cowboy hat looked close to perfect, yet his jeans had definitely seen better days. She rummaged through her pockets for a sewing kit as they talked.

You’re a good person, Sam. Even though you like to break someone’s legs, and taze some asses.

The smirk on her face from earlier quickly faded as she took in what the man was saying. She wasn’t good. She really wasn’t.

But Sam wanted to be.

“I am just trying to be.”

“Journal of An Apocalyptic Pub Landlord” by Wednesday

A quite day at The Honest Coin Pub in Stary Yar. Wednesday finally finds himself alone in the pub. So sits at his desk to write.

Been a while since I wrote in here…as a matter of fact I had lost this journal for some time. I finally found it today lodged behind the broken television upstairs. How it got there only the gods know.

It could of been after one of times we were raided at the Pub?

Was it when the pretend patriarchs from Skalisty visited? Who cowardly waited outside and shot X as he left the pub then they went rummaging around upstairs.

Was it when the glutenous, greedy and generally obese cannibals from the south were here? They’re always leaving notes talking about hunger and needing food and meat. Probably knocked it behind the television as they waddled threw the door with our sea chest full of beer and snacks.

Also, they really need to learn to clean themselves before stepping into my establishment. The amount of crap they traipsed into the pub. We were all sick for weeks after.

Although it could have been lost before then, at one of our events, the wedding of Izzy and Mario maybe?

I was working the bar all night as Dodge had “phoned” in sick, leaving a note on my door saying he couldn’t come in that night — That’s a story for another time though, the Bastard. But yeah, I remember there being wedding guests in and out of the pub. They might have snuck upstairs and accidently knocked it over.

It may have been Halloween. We had a lot of people round the pub that night. I remember Mango stupidly put a gas cannister in the fire, the back porch took some structural damage. It could of shuck the book behind the T.V.

Christmas! The Stary Yar Xmas market we held when “Santa” Rusty P was getting changed, I could hear him upstairs struggling to get the costume on. I had to send Deedee up to help him. She was up there a while, possibly went missing then.

Our last open mic night might have been the night? When the Cult of Papa showed up and started spraying bullets at the pub shouting “Hail Papa” he probably chipped off some of the back wall of the pub and knocked the Journal. I mean this building’s over 200 years old the walls aren’t as strong as they used to be. Good job the Forsaken Loyalists put the Cultist down before he caused any more damage.

Guess I’ll never know how it ended up behind the T.V, anyway got to go now, I can hear customers at the serving hatch and no one is around as Jenette has just fucked off on a drive to coast.

Wednesday gets up from his desk to see Igloo has been stood watching him all this time with a beer in hand.

Wednesday why are you writing in that old book? I thought I’d thrown that out ages ago?

“She Had Work to Do” by Mamie

The day started normal enough, but soon there were more visitors to Fort Warden, as was usually the case.

Mamie was tired, more tired than normal. The wedding, the aftermath, all the unanswered questions had been keeping her awake at night. Pup just held her close, and really, that was all she needed.

There had been enough words. Mamie had always believed words were powerful things, and she used them liberally. Tonight was no exception.

Nightshade was there and wanted answers. Why was FL there? Why were the clowns there? Why didn’t you do better, plan better? At one point, the word ‘hypocrite’ was whispered, and this was ultimately the word that brought her to attention, made her angry. Even if… they were accurate.

Things calmed, as they always did. Kaiah pulled her aside, expressing understanding despite the harsh exchange they had just had.

‘You’re a good woman, Mamie,’ she had said, and her words were soft and genuine despite her group’s disappointment.

It was a hard meeting, one where the truth sat like a bitter pill in Mamie’s mouth.

It was while she stood there, swallowing that pill, that she heard a familiar voice from days long past.

‘Harry,’ she whispered and smiled.

Harry of the Insurgency. Harry who once hoped. Harry who always despised and fought against those who would hurt others. Harry who learned that people would disappoint, and that eventually words would fall short, become meaningless. Harry who became the monster this world needed.

Mamie gathered her things and followed Harry and Nightshade into the forest. Harry picked the top of a cliffside overlooking Turovo. And there they stood. Two old relics of the past.

They talked little about the past, though there were mentions of those days gone by at the DUGOUT.

You see, no matter what anyone had said about Harry Churches, Mamie knew that he was doing what he must. She knew he wasn’t doing it without cause. She knew he gave them all choices. There was always more to the story than what was told.

Standing next to him, he seemed different and yet the same old Harry she used to stand in the courtyard of the Dugout and debate with about the evils of neutrality.

She didn’t know where the conversation would lead, and she didn’t mind so much. The wedding had been a disaster. All the factions that shouldn’t have been there were there, and she understood Harry would take a disliking to that, and could possibly decide to shove her right off that cliff or end her right there. But she also knew she wouldn’t care if he did.

As fortune would have it, he simply understood. Mamie also understood.

The time for talking was over.

There would be no more negotiations, no more words begging for unity and diplomacy. Her tired old hands may not be what they used to be, but she knew she had to do more. She had been alone without a faction for some time now, but today she knew she would make a choice, and the Timberwolves made perfect sense.

She could still care for St. Joe’s, still be herself, but she needed, as much for herself as for them, to finally just belong somewhere.

All of these thoughts simply raced through her mind while Harry spoke of the hope he once had.

All Mamie could think in reply was, ‘You still have hope, Harry. It just looks different than the hope you had before.’

It wasn’t a long meeting, and Harry soon turned to go. Mamie had the profound sense, as she watched him disappear into the forest, that she would not see him again.

She wasn’t wrong.

The day was long, with trips to Kamensk, to the Honest Coin. Thaddeus, Mackenzie, Hope, and Pup all traveling with her, mostly because they had all grown tired of sitting behind the walls of that factory that had become a tomb to her.

Later, Hope and Mackenzie stayed behind rather than make the long trek home.

Mamie grew tired on the way home, almost stopping to just sleep under the trees with Pup. It was his favorite place to be.

In hindsight, she should have.

They arrived home to the converted factory in Turovo without incident. There were just a few of them milling about.

Earl had stopped by from BMR and exchanged a few words. Natasha, who had been sleeping in a far corner of the factory, woke up silently and scampered off into another corner.

The difficulties between BMR and Nightshade were well known in this corner of South Zagoria, but the relationship between BMR and Nightshade, at least, was showing the possible promise of healing.

Once everyone had cleared out, it was Pup, Kraze, and Mamie left. Everyone was tired, food was short, and the decision to fish was made. Kraze stepped out to do a little fishing in the pond behind the factory.

As Mamie walked up the ramp back into the main part of the compound, she heard the distinct sound of footsteps in the grass, the sound of guns in hands, and it was most definitely not just one or two. It was a large group, by the sounds of it.

She called out.

Who’s out there?

She knew it wasn’t good when no reply came.

‘Who is it?’ Pup asked, sounding slightly frustrated.

‘Can’t be good, no fuckin’ answer,’ came Mamie’s hurried reply.

‘Get back in here.’

Pup grabbed her elbow and rushed her back to the farthest end of the compound. The more gates between them, the better.

That was when she heard it.

The unmistakable voice. So horrifyingly, sickeningly jovial in tone.

‘Oh, we are going to have some fun,’ he said.

Harvey.

Dark as Midnight was outside.

The world turned into a sickening whirlwind of gunfire, explosions, and smoke as they blew open the front gate.

Mamie stayed back, the camouflage nets impeding her vision but more than likely shielding her and the rest of them somewhat from DAMN’s eyes.

Pup had launched gas at the door, and it was holding them at bay for now, but she knew, they all knew, the inevitability of it.

They shuffled around, looking for cracks in the windows, peering for anywhere they might make use of an advantage.

Mamie took the small grenade launcher in her hands, and as the gas dissipated, she tried to fire a smoke round over the wall to at least provide them with a little more cover and buy them a little more time.

But that was the last thing she did, the last thing she really remembered before her world turned completely black.

Everything that followed was a blur of pain.

From waking up on the beach to the run home, the motion was purely muscle memory. She knew something was terribly, terribly wrong, but she knew Pup would be worried and she wanted to get home. She wanted to make sure the others were all right because it had not been looking good when she left.

A chance meeting with a dice master in Berezino.

‘Roll your fate,’ he said.

Mamie disinterestedly took the dice and rolled them.

’28, a fine roll. You get courtesy instead,’ he said, handing her a nearly full jar of honey.

She introduced herself. He recognized her from one of the radio broadcasts she had made and, in what can only be described as a strange turn of fate, he offered to escort her home to Turovo.

Her head pounded. Breathing was difficult. The edges of her vision clouded in the one good eye she had left. Her ears rang, a dull, high-pitched scream that cluttered her mind and made her wince.

And eventually… she was home.

They repaid the man who escorted her, but Mamie really only had one thing in mind. She had to make sure the Fort was secured. She had to help Cross and the others get some things in place, and she did.

As if on autopilot, the only thing keeping her going was sheer purpose.

As the last of the gates was secured, she muttered, ‘I don’t feel well. Gonna go sit in Cross’s tent.’

She knew the young doc would look in on her when she was done with the task of getting those walls and gates back in operation.

She was tired, and in pain.

She sat down at the back of the tent and leaned back against the wall, pulling the hat down over her eyes, never feeling the warm trickle of blood still seeping from the wound in her neck.

And that is where Cross found her, sitting as if resting peacefully, but she was cold, quiet, and quite dead.

The wound had been catastrophic, and Mamie had hidden it well.

She had work to do.

She always had work to do.

No time for anything, not even dying.

Slumped there, underneath that Black Stetson Hat, she dreamed her last dream of a white picket fence, a man named Pup who dared to love her, a young girl named Ember, a brave friend named Kraze and the rest of the Timberwolves who would walk beside that girl, a girl who Mamie knew would change all of South Zagoria one day.

A man named Harry who still had hope despite his own doubts.

Fishing near the Dugout with the sound of Audi’s laughter in her ears, and the warmth of a sun that only existed in these, her final dreams.

“Karma – Part 2” by Claire

Four months had passed. I had gone out west, running away from everything that had happened, from the memories of my choices, and the heavy feeling of the life I left behind. I was looking for myself, looking for answers, and looking for a quiet place to rest.

​Life out west was cold and quiet. Surviving on my own wasn’t easy, the cold wind and the silence of the woods often felt really loud. But that isolation didn’t last long. I met two guys on one of my runs, Connor and Sully. I didn’t know who they were, I was too exhausted to care. I simply started running with them. There were no big speeches or promises. I barely spoke, they didn’t ask questions, and when asked, only short answers were given to them, I just stayed in their quiet presence. Together, we shared a small cabin in the woods near Tri Kresta. One morning, after a long and tiring day, I woke up inside of the cabin, I looked for Sully and Connor, but they weren’t there. “Maybe they are hunting something,” I thought. Days passed by as I kept doing the same routine that we used to do west, but alone. I knew something was wrong. They were gone.

The Journey to Pusta

​The small wooden cabin was completely quiet. I sat alone on the edge of a rusted bed, and I could still feel the adrenaline rushing in my body from the recent run. Looking down at my worn boots, I start reflecting about how I couldn’t keep running from this. It was time. I stood up slowly, checking my gear and walking towards the door. Stepping out into the cold air from the hill where the cabin was located, I closed the cabin door and put a 3-dial on the door. Without looking back, I followed the path towards Pusta. I owed Juri an explanation.

​When I arrived in Pusta, the place was completely quiet, I could barely see anything because of the fog. Nobody seemed to be home, so I left a short note at their front gate. I then walked up the hill to the northeast and stayed among the trees, watching Pusta from above. Through the fog, two people walked into Pusta wearing light purple armbands, one had a poncho and the other was wearing a helmet with cat ears. I knew what I had to do. I walked down the hill and went to talk to them. It was Juri and Lavender Flowers. A long conversation was about to start. I knew there would be many hard questions, but for the first time in months, I was ready to answer them all. I didn’t regret anything.

​We spent hours talking about everything that had fallen apart while I was away. Odyssey was dead and gone, just as I expected. Juri was no longer a Firefly, and a new group called Nightshade was now roaming the lands of Chernarus. Later that day, Juri, Lavender, and I went to The Northern Oasis to meet the rest of the group. Peruvian was already there, and soon after, Kajia arrived. Even though it had been months since I last spoke to Kajia, I chose to stay silent on that day. As everyone around me was talking, I just sat there, tuned out from the noise, unable to stop thinking about four words that had never left my mind since the day I tried to kill Bobs.

​Failure, regret, shame, and betrayal. I had failed the plan, something I thought would be easy turned into a total mess, leaving me with nothing. Then the regret came, the thoughts that returned every quiet night:

​‘Should I have done it? Did I do the wrong thing by hesitating? Was I just weak?’

​I kept hearing Cob’s voice in my head, saying that now Bobs would have to live knowing he killed a friend, but I wondered if that was really enough to wash away the guilt. Along with it came the sickening shame of failing and putting myself and the few people I cared about in danger again, something I knew I would never forgive myself for. And finally, betrayal. I knew this game was dangerous and that something could go wrong, but I put myself in that position anyway. Trusting Hip’s sickening mind was a mistake, but what hurt the most wasn’t just that Hip sold me out to Nova Aurora, it was the fact that I let it happen. I felt like a fool, not just because he betrayed me, but because I saw the trap and stepped right into it.

​The anger I felt toward Hip wasn’t just about what he did, it was a mirror of the hate I felt for myself for being so careless. I still had a score to settle, with Hip, and especially with my own stupidity.

​Days passed by as I kept running with Nightshade. The routine was completely different from anything I had experienced before. Always on the move, never staying in the same place for long. Some days we would head North, other days West, East, or South.

​On this specific day, we decided to head South, hoping the Fireflies would be home. I saw familiar and new faces inside the Fireflies compound, and a different feeling hung in the air. I could clearly see the exhaustion in Carter’s eyes, something was wrong. Information was exchanged, and soon after, we left the compound and kept going South. Gunshots echoed in the distance, so we went to investigate, but we found nothing. The night turned completely dark, and it was almost impossible to see what was in front of us as we walked through the woods. We heard rumors about people living at the Elektro gas station, so we decided to go that way. After overwatching the area from the hill, we descended to take a closer look. Nobody was around, the only thing we could hear was the cold breeze and the ocean waves crashing against the rocks near the shore.

​A few minutes passed before we spotted someone running towards the gas station. Wearing a yellow shemagh and yellow sneakers, we had no clue who that person was. The man didn’t notice us at first, so we approached him and asked for his name. He was reluctant to answer, ignoring our questions and nervously moving from shelter to shelter. But after being pressured, he finally let it out:

​My name is Hip.

​A rush of anger, happiness, sadness, and shame hit me all at once. I couldn’t believe it was actually him.

​“I’m just looking for food,” he said, realizing he was completely surrounded.

​“Oh, you want food?” I replied. “Take this then.” ​I stepped forward and slammed the buttstock of my gun into his face twice. Too much was left unsaid, but words were useless at that moment. Juri proceeded to tie him up, and the final walk of Hip’s life had begun.

​“It’s a beautiful night today, isn’t it, Hip?” I said, walking right beside him as Nightshade escorted the prisoner through the dark forest. “You should take a look at the sky… the stars… the air you’re breathing.” ​Hip didn’t beg for his life. He didn’t flinch, or tried to run. He just walked with a cold, calm look on his face while handcuffed, totally unbothered by the blood on his nose. There was no fear in his eyes, just the blank look of a psychopath who seemed to not care about where his choices had brought him. His complete silence made the night feel even colder.

​After a short, quiet walk through the dark woods, our group arrived at the entrance of a hidden cave. Waiting inside of the cold cave was Kajia.

The Final Judgment

​As we reached the cold entrance of the cave, everyone moved to different sides of the place, our eyes were fixed on Hip. The tension in the air was suffocating as I took a step towards Hip, breaking the silence. “Do you remember that conversation that we had in Bor when you asked me if I thought you were a good person for killing your brother, Felix? Do you remember that? You asked me that and I said yes, that I thought that you were still a good person for doing that. But I lied, Hip. I really don’t think you are. I know you’ve been through a lot. But betraying someone like Felix… someone that has been with you forever, that’s cold.”

​Hip remained unbothered, replying in a monotone voice, “No one asks why.”

​I stepped closer, “Well, tell us why. Why did you kill Felix? This is the time. If you have anything to say, do it now.”

​”Janette came to me and told me Felix was going to kill me. So I killed him,” Hip said.
​”Why was Felix going to kill you?” Juri asked, taking a small step forward.

​There was a long, heavy silence in the cave. Hip just stared back at him without blinking, before finally speaking, “He didn’t like my company.”

​Lavender stepped forward into the light, “Why not just leave like you did anyway?”
​Hip explained, “I didn’t leave. They kicked me out. I left to go on a trip and they locked me out, and I wasn’t going to make it easy for Odyssey to just come knock on the door. The managers made that decision. Tallos paid with his eye. I haven’t been able to find Mac.”

​I whispered, “I see.”

​Lavender added, “In the end, it doesn’t really matter, because most of them ended up with Torchwood, and EST is burning to the ground again.” ​Hip remarked, “As it should,” and I agreed. ​But Lavender pressed him more, “Do you understand that it is you who set these things in motion?” “Of course,” Hip nodded.​ Juri asked, “So, are you happy to see the place burn, or was that just unintentional?” ​Hip coldly answered, “I am pleased with the progress of Northeast.” ​Juri sighed, “If you say so…”

​I looked around to the others, tightening my grip on my gun, “Do you guys have anything else to say?”

​Before anything could happen, Lavender asked, “I want to know why you didn’t talk to Odyssey before deciding to blow in the door of the pub.” Hip defended himself, “Shifty asked me long ago if I held any resentment towards Odyssey or himself for the events that happened on Kelm Hill. I always told him I didn’t because I trusted Shifty. I didn’t blame him. I blamed the rest of Odyssey, and then they did nothing when he was struggling. He did everything for everybody, and then you all failed him.”

​As much as I hated Hip, I couldn’t disagree with that. I knew he was right.

​Lavender asked again, “Have you ever considered that we were trying? And after the fight, did you ever consider that we were mourning?”

​‘It didn’t look like they were,’ crossed my mind as Lavender was speaking.

​Hip said coldly, “Again, the only one I cared about was Shifty.” ​Lavender replied, “So it would seem.” ​Hip looked around “Any other questions? Anything regarding the host attack? Anything? Anything else?”

​Juri offered, “Well, if there’s something on your heart, you can speak. If you want to tell us something, now’s the time.” ​Hip explained, “I think we all know the host is working with the loyalists. The only reason I left with the loyalists that day to go to Khelm Hill was because Beer was the one to tell me to trust him. I trusted Beer’s judgment. It almost led to my death. That’s why I attacked the host. I’m not all bad. Just mostly.” ​Lavender countered, “A couple of redeeming actions don’t negate what you’ve done. You’ve really fucked up with a lot of people’s lives… it seems to me like you don’t care.”

​Hip plainly answered, “I don’t.”

​Juri stepped away briefly to get more firewood. You could see his silhouette disappearing as he walked away from the cave.

​I stepped closer to Hip, “Tell me, what are you thinking of right now knowing that these are your last moments, Hip? I want to know.” ​Hip answered, “Thinking about where I’m going to go next… who I’ll see when I get there… how long have I waited.”

​Juri returned with wood and looked down at him, “If you truly don’t care and if you do think you did evil, why did you even continue on? Why did you run to that gas station earlier just to find food? What is there still for you?”

​”The King Tide is all that there is left,” Hip replied. ​Lavender questioned, “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Hip smirked, “It took me a long time to find out. And I’m not just going to give all the answers to you.” ​Juri said, “Well, I guess no matter how important it is to you, then that will die with you.” ​Hip stated, “It will not. It took a long time to become hollow.”

Juri looked at him, confused by his answer “That’s something that you see as desirable? Are you happy with what you are right now?”

​Hip answered, “The most happy. The most free.”

​​I felt confused by his words, but nothing mattered anymore at that point, “Well, do you have any last words, Hip?”

​”I’m proud of you, Claire”, he said.

​A quiet laugh slipped from Juri as he looked over at me. I smiled looking at him for a quick second, then turned my head, looked straight down at Hip, and pressed the trigger. The loud noise of full auto fire filled the quiet cave. Hip’s body fell hard on the floor, completely still, leaving deep bullet marks on the rock wall right behind him.

​Lavender broke the silence, “Alright then.” ​”I guess that chapter is over,” Juri said, lowering his rifle. Kajia stepped out from the back of the cave, looking down at the body. She walked over to me, placing her hand on my shoulder, “You did the right thing”. ​I remained standing there, staring at the fresh blood dripping from his body on the floor of the cave. “I think I did”, I said, looking at Kajia. ” I know you did”, she replied.

I thought I was going to feel better after doing that. I thought I was going to feel relieved by taking his life… but I didn’t.

We then left the cave, leaving Hip’s lifeless body behind.

Weeks later…

I see red helmets on spikes from a distance. It’s a ghost town, haunted. Shivers ran down my spine as I approached the place. It was time to focus on something else.

“Losing Hope” by Stella

The Fireflies gave me something worth fighting for.

I was someone the insurgency saw as nothing more than a criminal that deserved to be shot. Threatening to end my life if I ever step foot outside of Pusta. I wasn’t angry, I understood that I deserved their hatred. They viewed my attempts at seeking redemption as pathetic. Someone like me didn’t deserve the chance. Quietly letting their words eat away at me, I was ashamed of trying.

Simply telling them to do what they wanted I avoided their gaze and remained silent as I walked out.

The Fireflies had overheard what Insurgency had said to me. They took me by the hand and marched back in.

…Despite everything…

They disagreed with The Insurgency, they refused to kill me, and they refused to allow The Insurgency to stand there, threatening my life. The Fireflies refused to allow them to belittle my efforts. The Fireflies looked into my eyes and saw someone that just needed a purpose, someone that desperately wanted to change. Protecting me when I had given up, they gave me a purpose and guided me. After all the harm I had cause, after all the lies, and despite everything they’ve endured.

They still opened their hearts and believed in someone like me.

That day I grew to admire their empathy. I wanted to be like them.

They made Ignoring them impossible. We were conflicted on how to treat them. They showed up in every corner, involving themselves in our affairs as if The Fireflies owed them something. The Bastard that wrote the warrant against Harry went and joined them. What were we supposed to do? They built their own conflict with us. We refused to remove the warrant, we pitied them. We viewed them as broken men trying to do what they thought was right.

But….action after action….

Harming those who disagreed…

They had proven they had become more deranged over time.

The Insurgency chose their outcome when they took one of our own hostage for a reason they made up. They chose to take advantage of someone who just wanted to help, someone who was worried for the safety of a child. A veteran Firefly named Ida heard the sound of a distressed young man outside. The Insurgency knew she wouldn’t hesitate to go help. They knew pulling a trick as low as that would work, our enemies pulled the same trick on them when many of the insurgents themselves were in The Fireflies. An ambush awaited Ida inside Hope’s Rest. The insurgents surrounded her, aggressively confronting Ida. They demanded she tell them everything as they brandished their guns around, threatening to shoot anyone who intervened.

I stood outside waiting, the sight of their outburst scared me.

Thoughts raced through my mind.

An explosive reaction, over something so insignificant…

How far will they go next time?

All because they thought so little of the people they once called “family”. They chose to cross the line that day. They placed the blame on us for their actions, it was our fault they misunderstood. It was our fault they were forced to do that.

“If you had told us everything none of this would’ve happened.” Santiago snarkily remarked.

The Fireflies hung their heads low in response and allowed their old family to spit cruel words at them. I sat in silence and I watched Insurgency scurry away like rodents. They were proud of themselves. I pitied the older fireflies. How could you be so blind, how could you not see? They hide behind the word family to hurt you, manipulate you.

Why do you let them hurt you? They don’t deserve your sympathy.

The Insurgency’s paranoia grew worse, their eyes becoming cold and empty. There was nothing, just empty husks angry at the world.

It left me afraid of the things they might do for the sake of change.

They paraded a child around, weaponizing a child’s innocence as a moral shield. They did so intentionally so they could paint whoever dared to shoot at them as monsters. We captured the young man that they used to trick us, demanding he leave this way of life before it would get him killed. He stumbled over his words, repeating the same lines as the rest. We let him go.

“How could you threaten a child’s life, don’t you know how old he is ?” Tino said

“How could you have a child fight in your war!” I shouted ” You’ll get him killed!”

“It was his choice,” They replied, irritated, “He wanted to fight for our cause.”

“Kids make stupid decisions, you know better.” I said, giving them a look of disgust

It was only a matter of time before there was another “misunderstanding“. We needed the Insurgency to keep their focus where it belonged, far away from us. Ed, a veteran Firefly, didn’t want it to lead to a war, so he gave them one final warning.

To leave the south, to not cross another line.

Tino mocked his pleas, polluting the area with his presence only days later. Repeating the same lines he spat countless times. Preaching about how they were getting their hands dirty so we wouldn’t have to. They were doing it all for us, everything was for us. Yet they belittled us for refusing to commit the same brutality.

They couldn’t see past their own deranged ideologies. What they had done in Hope’s Rest decided the outcome for them that day. I was tired of witnessing The Fireflies’ mistreatment. The insurgency chose to raise their weapons at us in an act of rebellion. Was I supposed to allow them to gun you down, was I supposed to stand there and let them hurt you?

No matter what they say you didn’t deserve that.

Ed drew back in shock at the display of violence.

I’m sorry, Ed.

It was easy for me to pull the trigger, but the sight sickened him. Ed threw his armband at our feet and walked away in protest at what we chose to do. Angry that Insurgency chose to ignore his pleas days before.

Shots rang out in the direction he left.

As Ed slowly stumbled to Pete’s grave, alone, a trail of blood followed him behind. He laid beside his old friend and by choosing to succumb to his wounds he had refused to give into brutality. The thought of fighting in a war against his old brothers was unbearable for him.

It was hard to come to terms with his death.

I blamed myself, I shot Insurgency down.

Why didn’t you let us help you, why did you give up hope, Ed?

Upon hearing about Ed’s death, Santiago simply replied with

“I’m glad he’s dead, I wish I would’ve been the one to pull the trigger.”

Monsters.

Those sick bastards abandoned their humanity.

“The Sanity of Apathy” by Harry Churches

Bursting through the door like a bounding animal making chase, I confronted my prey. Carter. Once one of my best friends, but we both knew that was a long time ago now. Much had changed. Too much. I was ready for a fight. Hell, I wanted a fight! Everything he’d said about me, everything he’d done. I needed a reckoning. I had to understand why this man, who I once would have died for, had utterly betrayed me. I deserved to know that much.

Santiago had agreed to meet with him alone, but I had trailed. I had no intention of letting him scuttle off without so much as a word to me. The last time we talked, months ago in Pusta, he couldn’t even meet my gaze, and for what? Had I wronged him somehow? Did he blame me for something? Was it hate or fear of what I had become? All things I could understand. Unfortunately the truth was much worse.

“You couldn’t even look me in the eyes last time!” I yelled, and with the same calm monotone drone I had come to expect from Carter he replied, “I had no reason to.” His simple and uninterested response incensed me even further. After everything we’d been through, our brotherhood, the countless times we’d saved one another, and the people we’d lost, together, it all meant nothing to him now? That, I just couldn’t understand.

I had read his letters to Pete, left above his tombstone. Claiming I had lost my way, that I was no longer the man he admired. Yet now, when faced with me, he did not have anything to say. He didn’t hate me, nor was he lashing out in grief, just… nothing. He merely didn’t care. He walked away from the Fireflies, and left them with his heart. Whether he was keeping his true thoughts to himself or telling me the truth I could not tell.

Ultimately, despite all the talk about how much I had changed, I could not recognise the man standing before me at all. I had never given up. I could never let everything I’d lost have no meaning at all, and how he could just walk away from it… How he could just move on from caring… It was completely and utterly alien to me.

Perhaps that was what angered me most. I had spent my entire life believing that caring was what made us Human. That every death had to matter. Every betrayal had to hurt. Every sacrifice had to mean something. Otherwise, what had we been fighting for? I couldn’t simply decide that Pete’s death was unfortunate and move on. I couldn’t look at everything we’d built, everything we’d destroyed, and shrug. I could not give up now!

“Well that must be real convenient for you!” I said as he explained his new way of life. Alone. Not just disconnected from others, but disconnected from himself. When Pete died, his spirit, and what he was to all of us, albeit in many different forms, had survived. His body was in the ground, but he was not. Carter, however, had buried himself above the soil. His spirit was dead, while his body walked on.

I’d always thought Carter was unstable. Back then, it had seemed obvious. The anger, the obsession, the way he could become consumed by things that nobody else seemed to care about. I thought I was the only one who felt that way sometimes. Meeting Carter all those years ago, I knew we had much in common. He was a reflection of myself, my darkest choices, we both knew what it meant to be consumed by that. To have the responsibility of leading others, and doing ANYTHING to keep them safe.

But standing there, watching him look through me as though I were a stranger… I began to wonder if I’d had it backwards. Maybe Carter had figured it out before I did. Maybe not caring, was the only thing that made sense in such an uncaring world. I walked away from that talk hoping never to see him again. For all I cared he could die alone in the woods, and be forgotten. It’s what he deserved.

However, less than 12 hours later, I would begin to understand the appeal of apathy myself, and of course, it reached out to me like the devil’s hand on my shoulder, from the very same place Carter had found it, the Fireflies. They were supposed to be ours. Mine, Tino’s, Santiago’s, and Carter’s… once, they were family, a home.

For years, I’d told myself that they were different. That they weren’t just another gang with guns and grievances. We had something to build. Something worth surviving for, and one day something to live for. A goal which only fools have tried, and all the wise have failed to accomplish. Because such a goal, remained impossible in a world that’s very foundations were of death itself. Like quicksand below our feet, anything and everything I built with hope, had been swallowed by the insatiable appetite of Earth.

After everything that had happened, I tried to rebuild that bridge. Piece by piece. Both sides seemingly offered the other a way forward, together, even after everything they’d done. We told ourselves that if we could just make them see what we’d seen, if we could remind them of who we had once been, and that we were still on the same side, perhaps there was still something left to save between us.

What a foolish thought.

I heard the crack of gunfire in the distance. The same direction Tino had gone on a loot run just minutes before. I remember the sound more than anything. The crack of the gun echoing through the sky. Somehow I knew what had happened even before I arrived on the scene. Deep down, I knew this was coming. It was inevitable. Like the very world I lived in, inhabited by men with nothing but the soul of Judas, the Fireflies had betrayed me too.

For years, I had wondered what it was like to be betrayed by your brother. To watch someone you trusted hand everything you loved over to the people who would destroy it. I suppose now I knew. As I patched up his wounds, it wasn’t the first time I had saved a friend from the brink of death, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last.

Unlike in the betrayal of Christ there was no silver, no grand confession, no moment of regret, no. The conflicting convictions of supposedly good men had led all of us here. None of us were God’s children, none of us had merely been selfish, nobody was totally wrong, and yet, we all were. Carter had littered his mistakes somewhere along his long journey, and he was a lighter man for it. I carried mine. Every single one. Everywhere, and what had it gotten me? Where had caring led me? Here, to unimaginable pain and suffering, again.

And suddenly Carter’s way of seeing things made sense. No expectations. No grief. No responsibility beyond yourself. No burden of carrying every dead friend on your back as though they might somehow remain alive if you refused to put them down. No holding back against an enemy because some flicker of hope to put down your guns existed in both of you. Just, calm.

If all those who claim so vehemently that I see the world in pitch black and holy white could see what I truly saw, what I felt, what I knew. They’d want nothing more, than to give up on caring too. It would be so much simpler. I hated him for that, and I envied him for it too. I still cared. I cared about Pete. I cared about Tino. I cared about the Fireflies, even after they’d turned their backs on us. I cared about Carter, God help me, even after he had made it perfectly clear that he no longer cared about me.

This is my curse. The mad man Harry Churches, an angry fool who cared too much for his own good. How easy it would be to stop caring. If only I could. For a moment, more than a small one, I was tempted to give in, to prove those who claimed I saw the world in black and white correct, for they had forced the colour from my eyes. How easy it would be to wipe the Earth clear of my enemies if I let go. Then I spoke with Bobs.

One of the last good men I knew. I told him everything. How I had resigned myself to the fate of my monster-hood, and he offered me a way out. He told me he learned long ago that nobody truly cared, and asked me to live here, with him in Guglovo. To put down my gun, and walk away. It was more than a tempting offer, but peace was never something I had in the cards, and in offering me this, he had shown me the real truth. No matter how much he protests, he, like me, did care.

I had drawn my gun on him over my convictions, and we had found our way back to each other still. We had been close enough once to consider each other brothers, I had jumped in front of bullets meant for him, ready to die, and later become estranged enough to be prepared to kill him, for my mission, and still, he wanted to save me. The Fireflies were in my way, and for that they would be removed, but one day, perhaps that wouldn’t be. To give up now, because of them, to resign my men and theirs to being lost, was something I was never going to do.

So no. No. I couldn’t do what Carter had done. I couldn’t bury myself alive and call it peace. So let them call me obsessed. Let them call me bitter, broken, unstable. They’re right. I am. Maybe caring this much was its own kind of madness from the start. If madness is the price of remembering, then I will gladly lose my mind before I ever forget.

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