kyle “gaz” garrick

He hated scouting duty.

Always had. Even before the world had utterly collapsed and practically ended, it still wasn’t a joyous activity that brought warmth to Gaz’s heart. It was just... boring. Plain boring and such a slag. Nothing ever really came about it, he never personally had the thrill of catching someone trying to take his team’s stuff and taking them down ever so heroically. No, that was all other people getting the exciting part of the job. All Gaz got was just plain nothing. Like, literally nothing. As in he had never been successful at finding anything to defend his bases from. Literally nothing.

Was that such a bad thing though? Maybe to some yes, but logically, he didn’t think it was. His heart called for action, yet his brain knew of the protective safety blanket that he was practically shoved in. Yeah, go and complain you didn’t get to shoot anyone, you daft fool. Wasn’t like the thought of violence was uncommon. Not after the Others came. Wasn’t hard for him to get and join the cause, considering who the founder was, but now it was just all day every day pure madness. Around the clock threats of death and destruction from beings outside his comprehension.

So maybe it was good he didn’t see them, didn’t have to face them.

Gaz moved carefully through the misty outskirts of the Federation’s base, the weathered landscape of post-invasion England stretching before him. The bunker, hidden beneath the overgrown remnants of an ancient forest, loomed in the background like a sleeping giant. The rain that had started earlier was just a drizzle now, but the wet earth clung to his boots, each step dragging through mud as he navigated the once familiar terrain. The concept of an old life was nothing more than a distant memory of crumbled towers and silent streets, the heart of a world that had been stripped of its dignity. The Other had come like a storm—quick and merciless. And now here he was, trying to survive it all.

The crackle of the radio on his belt was muted, a sign of how far he'd wandered from the command center. Gaz kept one hand on his rifle as his other pressed the button to speak. “Perimeter’s quiet. Moving back soon.”

A faint hum of static was the only response, Price probably not even feeling the need to comment. He wasn’t surprised. But something nagged at the edges of his mind—a persistent unease that had haunted him ever since Price had briefed him on scouting missions all those months ago.

They're everywhere, the man had said. The dissenters. Some of them don’t agree with the way the Other are handling this... conquest. You may come across one. Be prepared. But remember, they're still the enemy.

Gaz had nodded back then, as if the warning didn’t matter, but now, trudging through the thickening mist, the words gnawed at him. A dissenter? What would that even mean? Could one of the Other really stand against their own kind, after all they had done? Could they truly be trusted?

He didn't trust them. Not for a second.

Suddenly, movement ahead caught his eye. Gaz froze, his breath catching in his throat. It could have been an animal, a little thing that should have died out a long time ago but refused to like a stubborn stain. But that idea went away when the mist parted, revealing a figure— and it was unmistakably alien. Its silhouette was as strange as it was familiar, the flicker of conciseness inside its eyes an only source of connection to a human instinct. An Other. An Other. Maybe thinking about dissenters at that moment was ironic?

But this one didn’t appear to be armed. Was it right? No. Didn’t feel that way, no matter how much he justified it in his gut.

Gaz’s grip tightened on his rifle, palms clammy with nerves. His heart pounded in his chest, a heavy thud that echoed louder than it should have in the silence. The sight of the Other sparked a visceral reaction deep within him. The face of humanity’s oppressor, of the ones who had destroyed their cities, enslaved their people. And now, here one was, standing unarmed, like a lamb wandering into a lion’s den. But why? What the fuck was the deal? The species should have had everything. Benefited from humanity’s resources and lived a life of practical luxury. So why were they here?

His instinct was to shoot. End them right there. After everything the Federation had fought for, after the months of living underground, scavenging for resources, losing people to raids and hunger and disease—why should he listen? Why should he give this creature any kind of audience?

Still, something kept him from pulling the trigger. The creature moved closer, and though he couldn’t see its eyes, he could feel it watching him, waiting.

The radio at his waist hissed again, breaking the silence. Price.

Gaz, what’s your status? Over.

He swallowed, his voice low and strained when he finally responded. “Contact. One of them.” A long pause. Then, “I think it’s a dissenter.”

Hold your position. Do not engage

Gaz gritted his teeth. Don’t engage. It was easy to say from behind the safety of the bunker’s walls. As much as his commander had ever done for him in the past, Price didn’t have to face it— standing here, in the open, staring down one of the very beings that had driven humanity into the shadows. He had always admired Price’s leadership; his strength, his relentless focus on the goal. But in moments like this, Gaz questioned it. He questioned the whole damn war.How much did they really know about the Other? They had taken everything, yes, but they were alien in every way. No one understood their motivations, their history, or what had led them to Earth in the first place.

Maybe Price had tried to negotiate in the early days, but now, years into this war, peace seemed a fantasy. A green light upon the bay that would shine forever and ever, not ever truly coming intro fruition in the ways that humanity wanted. And yet, the Other before him wasn’t making any move to attack. Gaz stared at the creature, waiting for some signal, some betrayal. Maybe this was a trick. Maybe it was part of their plan all along—to infiltrate, to divide, to confuse. But there was a different possibility, one that crept into his thoughts like a shadow.

What if they aren’t so different from us? The idea seemed absurd. And yet, hadn’t history shown humans fighting among themselves, warring over differences as shallow as territory, resources, and ideology? Maybe the Other were no different—fractured, conflicted, their ranks filled with those who didn't believe in the invasion.

Gaz exhaled slowly, his mind spiraling with questions.

He took a step back, raising his rifle just slightly. For a moment, he felt a strange connection, an understanding that ran deeper than words. But then he remembered the ruins of London, the ash-filled air, the craters where homes and schools once stood. He remembered the faces of the lost, the ones they couldn’t save. His rifle remained raised, though now it felt heavier in his hands.

"You’ve got one minute to explain yourself,” Gaz muttered under his breath. He needed to say it, to anchor himself in the moment. Price had told him not to engage, but this was a chance— a small, fragile chance to understand what the enemy really was.

But all he did was stared and waited. For any response, gun still locked right with their temple. Or whatever was close enough to it, strange blokes.