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It started with Jeremy, really. Well, he was the first. The first person they protected, the first person to follow them. Protection by numbers and all that crap. Plus Miles was mad as hell. Mad at the whole fucked up world and the lack of order.
He was the kind of guy that needed order, and discipline and rules laid down simple for him because he had a fucked up sense of right and wrong. It's one of the reasons he became a Marine. He was great at following orders and even giving them as long as there was some kind of system.
In this kind of world Miles was slowly going insane.
Even with Bass at his side pulling him back from the brink. He didn't know those people in the tent, but their blood was never forgotten. Senseless, needless death. Then he saw Jeremy on the floor, bloody, beaten, but still alive and something broke inside.
Miles was pretty sure it, whatever it was, was still broken.
He never intended to start the republic. But once Jeremy decided to tag along it just happened. He only had one mission. Get to Chicago. He couldn't think beyond that. Surely there would be order there.
But it was one long-ass walk and they came across as many people who wanted safety and order as those who thrived on the mayhem. After all, who was as safe as two tough marines? People would do anything if Miles and Bass gave their protection.
And they gave more than that.
In return for loyalty Miles showed them how to fight. How to hunt and protect what was theirs.
They were just a little band of misfits really. Until one day a man thought he could take what Miles offered and then walk away, giving nothing in return. He wasn't some god damned charity.
Miles didn't waste a precious bullet on him. He used a gnarled tree branch and battered the back of his head in and splattered his brains over and over until blood rained down his face,
Miles wiped the trickle that was too thick to be blood off his cheek and then stared around him, at the people who were blindly following him to a better life. Would it be better in the city?
The kids were crying, some of the adults were shocked, some not so shocked. Miles looked around, breathing hard, wanting to scream. What did they expect?
"This ain't some fucked up charity. I'm not you're god damned saviour. What I have to offer ain't free. Got it?" Only Jeremy seemed pleased.
Bass stepped forward, all calm, deadly strength, with a trusting face and cutting words said in that soothing way that made people like him even when he was being a bastard. "You think we're helping you for nothing? Neither of us are Jesus. You want our protection, you do as we say, you want our knowledge, do as we say. You want to leave, then leave. But you'll owe us. Food, clothes, water...your children; whatever we need. Don't forget that. We won't. One day we will turn up on your doorstep and expect you to pay up."
He looked at Miles and wiped at the sticky mess on his cheek. "We are not unreasonable men, but this is a new world and these are our rules."
That night Bass and Miles slept in their two-man tent while Jeremy slept under the stars just outside because Bass was paranoid someone would try to kill Miles. Bass' sleeping bag was opened up all the way, covering them both, while Miles' was beneath them, covered in sweat, come and dirt.
They were both still dressed, neither of them could shrug off their training enough to really relax, but their flies were undone and their cocks were peeking out of thermal underwear, soft and spent.
Bass turned to him, angled his hips so their cocks were touching and he pushed his head into the side of Miles' neck, getting comfortable, getting close enough so they could talk without anyone hearing.
His hair was getting long, getting curly in the way Bass hated but Miles secretly loved. It was greasy because they hadn't bathed in god-damned forever and they both stunk to high heaven.
This was as close to sane as Miles had felt since that call from his brother. "We have to go there with a plan to take over. We can't go in there and be someone's bitches, yeah? We have to be top. It has to be us." Bass' lips were wet against his neck and when his hand found their cocks; not to give pleasure, but to hold on for comfort then Miles thought he'd just about do anything to be the one that Sebastian relied on.