Bright Sunny South - Part 2 - SCP Foundation

Series Archive » North Star » Chapter 1 » Bright Sunny South - Part 2

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September, 1998

Not guilty! Milo thought as she stormed out of the courthouse. Not fucking guilty!

Even after she, the only other person present during the murder, had testified against her father, the jury still managed to pull a 'self defense' justification out of their ass. All because Benjamin always kept his work knife on him.

Of course, Milo shouldn't have been too surprised by the verdict. The jury had been made up almost entirely of Klan members. They'd never convict her father. Still, there had been a sliver of hope that the evidence would be too much for even them to ignore.

Apparently, it had not been.

Milo stomped off of the marble stairs and onto the concrete sidewalk. She looked up at the sky as a warm breeze blew past her face. The sun was out, shining just as brightly as the day Benjamin had been murdered. What few clouds dotted the sky stayed clear of it. Never had Milo experienced more unfitting weather.

Stuffing her hands into her pocket, Milo turned and began walking down the sidewalk. She had stomached a ride with her father this morning, though now she was in no mood to so much as look at him. She had considered catching a ride with Benjamin's family, but ultimately decided against it. They would just remind her of him, and this whole situation was the last thing she wanted to think about.

In all honesty, Milo just wanted to be left alone.

It took her about 10 minutes to realize she had her wish. Stopping, Milo looked up and down the sidewalk and street. She was now far from the courthouse and everyone who had been there. Instead, Milo found herself on the edge of the small suburb that sat on the outskirts of town. Nobody was home, she managed to deduce from the lack of cars in the driveways.

She was completely alone.

Her eyes wondered to a slim tree off to her left. It was a few feet into the homeowner's lawn, but close enough that going to it didn't feel like trespassing. Looking around to confirm no one else was there, Milo turned and made her way over to the tree.

She placed her hands on the bark, feeling its coarse bark in her palms and fingers. Then, she laid her head onto it, and screamed.

Her throat burned from soreness as she let her rage out. Her chest felt like it was caving in on itself from the sorrow of Benjamin's murder. These past few days had pushed Milo's emotions to their limit, and after hearing her father would walk free…

After about a minute, Milo finally stopped and began inhaling heavily. She had totally depleted the air in her lungs, leaving her lightheaded.

The faint sound of an engine reached her ears as she stood catching her breath. Milo looked up towards the direction of the noise as it got louder. Judging by the revving, it was most certainly speeding.

An old pickup truck rounded the corner faster than it should've, tipping it slightly. Milo's heart sank as her father drove directly at her. Screeching echoed across the suburb as the truck skidded to a halt. The driver side window was down, and inside the cabin was Milo's father.

"Get in." He seethed.

Milo took a single step forward, ensuring he'd be able to hear what she had to say.

"Fuck you." She hissed.

In the span of a quarter of a second, her father killed the engine, pushed the door open, and stepped out onto the sidewalk with her. The sheer speed of him caught Milo off guard, causing her to back up. Her father kept up with her.

"You UNGRATEFUL child!" He yelled, grabbing her by the shoulders and pushing her. Milo let out a gasp of pain as her back was slammed into the tree. "You would testify against your own father?!"

Milo didn't respond. She just stood there, keeping eye contact with her father, taking all the spit that flew out of his mouth.

"And for what? Some nigger boy?"

"I told you I loved him…" Milo started through gritted teeth. "And that I would do everything I could to see you behind bars."

"You stupid kid." He replied, his voice still dripping with anger despite no longer shouting. "Have I taught you nothing over the past 20 years?"

"All you've taught me is that you're a stubborn, hateful old man!" Her voice began to rise, along with her confidence and anger.

"I'm a man who does what needs to be done to protect his family!"

"Protect?" Milo scoffed. "Protect me from what?! From the man who loved me?!"

"He didn't love you, Jessica." Her father continued to speak in an even tone. It was starting to really get on Milo's nerves. "He was seducing you into a false sense of security to eventually use you as a personal whore. I've seen it happen a dozen times with their own kind, I can't imagine how it would've gone down with a white woman."

Milo's blood had been boiling since the verdict, and the past 20 seconds haven't helped. But something about those words made her snap. Right now, all she wanted to do was cause as much pain to her father as possible, and she knew exactly how to do it.

"We already had sex!"

The anger on her father's face washed away completely, now reflecting total shock.

"What?" He whispered.

"I lied to you." Now Milo was speaking evenly. "Earlier, when you asked if we had sex? I lied. We did fuck. We fucked several times. It started back when we were 17. We've done it more times than I can remember."

Silence fell over them. Her father's face continued to be one of shock and astonishment. Milo smirked. She knew what her father's thoughts were on the subject. After all, it had been his favorite topic to discuss during Klan meetings.

The confidence and satisfaction Milo felt waned a little as her father's facial expression changed, however. The fury that had been on his face before was mild irritation compared to what it was now. Milo expected him to start shouting again, but instead he pulled her closer to him…

…and slammed her back into the tree at full force. Milo felt the wind get knocked out of her as she collided with the bark. But before she had time to take in what had happened, she felt the hand on her left should loosen. She looked up just in time to see her father's hand ball up and swing towards her.

His fist collided with her temple before she could react. Milo's head whipped right as her legs gave way. She fell shoulder first onto exposed tree root, sending more pain throughout her body.

Dazed, in pain, and shocked her father had gone as far as actually hitting her, Milo remained limp on the ground. She expected another blow, maybe a kick? But nothing came. The only thing that reached her was the sound of a door slamming and an engine revving up.

Slowly, Milo pushed herself up into a sitting position and looked at the truck. Her vision was blurry, but she could make out the outline vibrate with life. Then, the tires screeched once more as the truck zipped away and out of sight.

Clutching her temple, Milo turned and spat blood onto the ground. She gazed at the spot where the truck had been, thinking over what had just happened.

Then, overwhelmed with anger, grief, and fear, Milo bowed her head and sobbed.

It was a ten mile walk from the courthouse to Milo's home. Not that she minded, walking long distances was something she had grown accustomed to.

Still, Milo would've preferred a ride home over trekking on a dirt road for three hours, but what was she supposed to do? Her father had sped off with the truck, leaving her quite literally in the dust.

She also lived in the middle of nowhere, so hitchhiking was also off the table. Hell, she hadn't even seen another person in the hours long walk. Besides, even if someone did drive by her, it's unlikely they would give her a ride. Everyone knew Milo's father, as well as the trial and Milo speaking against him. Everyone was also a Klan member. If anyone saw her, they'd likely speed up as they past her, making sure to kick up lots of-

Milo's thoughts stopped as she rounded the corner of the road her home was on. She could see the driveway and front of her house, though it wasn't either of these that caught her attention. What caught her attention was what was in the front yard.

Strewn across the grass and yard was… her stuff.

All her belongings were tossed indiscriminately around the lawn. Hell, even her blankets and mattress coverings were in this mess. Milo looked around at the objects, astonished.

She had no idea he would go this far.

She knew, of course, that he would never forgive her. Afterall, Milo had testified against him in public court. She also assumed that he would want her to leave, but figured he would at least give her some time.

As Milo walked through her belongings, her foot tapped on something. Stopping, she looked down at what she had nearly kicked.

It was the framed photograph of her and Benjamin. She had taken it years ago.

It had been a wonderful day. She and him met in the same opening in the woods they had met every week since they began dating. She remembered that day specifically because it had been the first time Benjamin had tried alcohol. Milo had managed to convince him to go against his parent's wishes and try it. It was rough at first, with Benjamin throwing up several times; but by the end of the month he could keep up with her.

Crouching, she picked up the frame and held it in her hand. As she gazed at it, the memories poured into her mind. She felt moisture build up in her eyes and run down her face. Sniffling, she fell back into a sitting position and held the photograph to her chest.

As she wept in silence, her eyes travelled to another object sitting in front of her. Laying in the grass not 5 feet was her hunting rifle.

Rifle.

This only caused more memories to surface unwillingly.

Milo recalled how she and Benjamin had once tried hunting together. It was a cold, February morning. A sheet of white frost had covered the ground, freezing it. The two of them had gone out just as the sun was beginning to rise. All day they had tracked a deer through the woods, though they were careful to steer clear of anyone who wouldn't want to see them together.

After hours of carefully tracking and trekking, they had come across it. After lining up the shot, Milo pulled the trigger and killed the animal. She had hit it in the head, causing it to drop quickly.

When hunting, you're not supposed to aim for the deer's head, for the sake of ethics. A deer's brain is about the size of a baseball. Sure, hitting it would kill the deer instantly, but anyplace else would just cause it unnecessary pain and suffering.

But if there was one thing Milo excelled at, it was marksmanship. Hitting the brains of a deer 50 yards out was nothing to her. Killing the animal had been easy.

Killing had been easy.

An idea popped into her head. It was an evil idea, but one she dared to entertain.

Her father had murdered Benjamin in cold blood. Then he got off scot-free because he had played the legal system like a fiddle. And now he had thrown Milo out of the house, along with her belongings.

In the span of a week, Milo's father took everything from her… all because she dared to love a black man. And he wouldn't even get justice.

Justice.

It had failed Milo. It had failed Benjamin.

The more she pondered it, the more convinced she was that taking justice in her own hands was the right thing to do.

Dropping the photograph, Milo slowly stood and made her way over to the gun. Bending over, she picked up the hunting rifle and examined it for damage. After concluding that it was functional and safe to handle, she scanned her surroundings. Immediately she noticed that the truck was missing.

Of course. She thought. It's Saturday. Father's at the lake.

The lake would be another hour walk, but it would be worth it.

Milo began walking around her belongings, looking for-

Found it.

Laying in the grass was a small plastic bullet case. Kneeling, she undid the latches and flung it open. Inside sat around forty 30-06 bullets. She would only need one, but took five just in case.

Loading them into her rifle, Milo stood, turned east, and began her long hike to the lake.

It took Milo longer than she would've liked to reach the lake. Then again, she did go out of her way to traverse the neighboring woods. The trees gave her cover from any onlookers. She didn't want to be caught, after all.

As Milo approached the shore, she was able to make out her father's boat through the tree line. It was an old, white, ratty-ass thing that was more wood board than actual boat. How that thing kept afloat eluded Milo.

Her father didn't care, of course. Every Saturday afternoon he would come out and spend his day fishing. Fortunately for her, he rarely broke his routine.

The boat was about three-quarters of a mile away, with her father clearly visible on the deck. She'd easily be able to make the shot. Bringing the stock up to her shoulder, Milo placed her hand underneath the rifle and lifted it to her eyes.

It was strange, she thought. She should be hesitating, or rethinking, or show literally any sign of reluctance. But she didn't. She wasn't just indifferent to what she was about to do… she was eager for it. She wanted this. Did it make her a bad person? Milo didn't care. All she could think of was the here and now, and of avenging Benjamin.

Milo inhaled. Breathing would throw off her aim.

She aligned her reticle to barely above her father. Despite Milo freehanding the shot, the scope didn't shake or tremble in the slightest. She had trained herself too well.

Lining it up so she was absolutely certain it would be a death blow, Milo flipped the safety off, exhaled…

And pulled the trigger.

There was a bang and a jerk at her elbow. Still, she managed to keep the gun still enough to see the result of her shot.

A small mist of red appeared next to her father's head. The shot wasn't nearly powerful enough to blow his head off, but Milo could very clearly see that she had landed a direct hit on his temple.

He didn't make any noise. Instead, he simply tumbled over the boat's railing and fell over the side. A distant splash reached Milo's ears as his body hit the water.

At first she didn't feel anything, the weight of what had just happened not fully registering with her. Then she felt satisfied and, almost, proud. It had certainly been a long shot, and yet she had managed to hit her father's brains effortlessly.

She stood there in contemplation for a moment, admiring her work. Then, after watching the water around the boat slowly turn red, it hit her.

Oh God.

The subtle smirk on Milo's lips fell as her heart pace and breathing quickened.

I just killed someone.

Dread and fear washed over her as the realization of what she had just done dawned on her. Regardless of her feelings towards her father… she had just MURDERED a person.

I have to get out of here.

Turning, Milo sprinted into the woods. Lake Sheroke was a relatively public place. It would only be a matter of time before someone went out and saw the blood in the water. Putting together what had happened, and who was responsible, wouldn't take long.

She needed to get out of here, but she had no idea where to go. All she could think was to get as far away as possible.

Wiping the moisture that had began to build in her eyes, Milo ran deeper and deeper into the woods.

Jacob Brown was a busy man. Being the only doctor within a hundred miles, he was indispensable to this small township of farmers and ranchers. It also meant the pile of paperwork on his desk was never small.

He could get an assistant, of course… and he did for the more general work, but when it came to paperwork regarding his patients, he'd prefer to do that himself.

Jacob was halfway through a document on a young boy who had broken his ankle when the doorbell rung. He worked from home most of the time, preferring it over his humid office that STILL needed its AC repaired.

At first he looked up in confusion. He wasn't expecting any visitors, and he distinctly remembered telling his secretory to call him if he was needed. Were the landlines down?

It was at the second ring that Jacob finally dropped his pen. He stepped out of his home office and into the foyer. The door rung a third time before he had reached it. He turned the knob and opened it to find…

"Jessica?" Jacob asked.

The confusion he had felt quickly turned to concern, however. Her eyes were red and puffy, her face was pale, and she was breathing heavily; as though she had just sprinted a marathon. Her hands were shaky, though Jacob could tell it was through fear and terror. Combine that with the hunting rifle slung over her shoulder…

"Can-" She started, her voice breaking. "Can I come in?"

"Of course!" Jacob sidestepped and closed the door when she entered. "What happened?"

Milo didn't respond. She didn't even look at him. She just slipped her rifle off and let it fall to the ground with a muted thud as she made her way over to the couch. Sitting, Milo placed her elbows on her knees and stared out into nothing.

"Jessica…" Jacob sat in a chair next to her.

Again she didn't respond, instead simply staring out into nothing. A mixture of fear, shock, and dread covered her pale-white face.

"I-" She whispered. "I did something awful."

It was Jacob's turn to not respond. He knew pushing her was a bad idea, and that it was better to let her get everything out in her own time.

"My father… he was found not guilty…"

"Oh, Jessica…" Jacob began. He had known about Milo and Benjamin long before her father did. In fact, Milo had told him that he was one of the only people who knew about their relationship, since he was the only one she trusted. Jacob didn't know whether to be honored or disgusted by this.

"That's not it…" Milo interrupted. "My father, he's de-… dead."

"Dead?" Jacob frowned. "Ho-"

Then he put two and two together. The rifle that now laid on the floor…

"Jessica… what did you do?"

"I shot him." She exhaled. "I shot him in the head. He's dead."

"Oh Jessica." Jacob placed a hand over his eyes.

"Are you going to turn me in?"

He let out a long, deep sigh.

"You should have planned this out more. Killing someone isn't something you can just… do. I'm not going to turn you in, but helping you is going to-"

There was a knock at the door. Both Jacob and Milo turned to it, neither of them saying a thing.

Slowly, Jacob looked at Milo and placed a finger over his mouth. Then he waved his hand towards the kitchen. Standing, Milo quietly made her way over and into the other room. It would be unwise to open the door while she was still in sight.

Standing, Jacob made his was over to the door and swung it over.

"Sheriff." He said. "What brings you here?"

The sheriff stood in the door way with his arms on his hips. He was about in his mid-30s, and looked upon the 48 year old with a neutral expression.

"Howdy Jacob." He replied. "May I step in?"

"Certainly." Jacob sidestepped.

"You hear about the Milo case?" Sheriff said as he entered. He didn't look at Jacob, instead choosing to admire the décor.

"Can't say I have. What was the verdict?"

"Not guilty."

"Not guilty?" Jacob tried his damndest to sound like this was his first time hearing it. "That's… how?"

"Packing the Jury with racists."

"Oh Christ…"

"Tell me about it." Sheriff turned to look at Jacob directly. "I'd have shot him myself if he were still alive."

Jacob allowed a pause to feign contemplation.

"What do you mean 'if he were still alive?'"

"Milo's dead. Murder by the looks of it."

Jacob tried to act surprised.

"Murdered? By who? How do you know?"

"Someone reported hearing a gunshot down by Sheroke. They went to take a look and found his boat out on the lake with no one in it. There was a bunch of blood in the water, though. They called us, and we pulled his body out. After some examination, we discovered a bullet wound in the temple of his head."

"He was shot?"

"Yep. From what we gather, the shot was made from the treeline on the south-west side. That's nearly a mile out."

Jacob placed a hand over his chin, pretending to be in thought.

"Do you have any leads to who it could be?"

"Come on Jacob… who's the one person in the county capable of making that shot as well as having the motivation to do it?"

Jacob narrowed his eyes.

"Why did you come here, Sheriff?"

"Do you know where Jessica is?"

"Why would I know that?"

"I know you two are close. I know that, if there's anyone she'd go to… it's you."

Jacob took a deep breath, then shook his head.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I don't have slightest idea where she is."

"Is that the truth?"

"It is."

Sheriff looked down, then took a few steps towards Jacob. He was now close enough that Jacob could feel his breath on his cheek.

"Listen to me, Jacob." Sheriff whispered. "Jessica is in serious danger. They will find her, and when they do… best case she spends the rest of her life in a hole, worst case she swings from the courthouse flag pole. I am trying to help her, I am the only one who can help her. Please, Jacob, if you know where she is… tell me."

Jacob paused.

"I'm sorry." He eventually said. "But I have no-"

"Oh hell… I'm here!"

Jacob closed his eyes as Milo stepped out from the kitchen. Sheriff looked over Jacob's shoulder at her.

"I recall telling you to stay quiet." Jacob said.

"I know Jacob, I know. It's just… there's no point in running." She stopped and turned to Sheriff. "I accept whatever awaits me."

Sheriff didn't respond immediately.

"Could you leave me and Jessica alone?" He eventually said, eyeing Jacob.

"He killed Benjamin right in front of her." Jacob responded. "Don't act like you wouldn't do the same."

"Could you leave me and Jessica alone?" Sheriff repeated.

Jacob sighed and turned to look at Milo, who gave a small nod.

"I have work to do." Jacob said, walking towards his office. "Remember to close the door on your way out."

And with that, he entered his office and closed the door.

Sheriff continued looking at the door well after Jacob had closed it. Probably to make sure he wouldn't decide to come back out, Milo thought.

"Jessica." He said, finally turning to her. "Let's talk."

"I'm guessing I'm under arrest."

Sheriff sighed and dropped his arms.

"Jessica… when I arrested your father, there was always a fear in the back of my mind that he would walk free. That man deserved to die for what he did, and I honest to God can't blame you for doing what you did."

"It doesn't matter, Sheriff." Milo said sullenly. "I did it, and I'm going to have to pay for it. I don't care though. My father paid for killing Benjamin, that's all I care about."

Sheriff looked at the ground and began pacing the room, as if contemplating his next move. After about a minute, he stopped and looked at at Milo. He spoke in an unsure tone, as though hesitant as to what he was saying.

"What if you don't have to pay for killing your father?"

"What do you mean?" Milo asked.

Sheriff opened his mouth, but took a second to speak.

"What if there was a place you could go where the law can't get you?"

Milo shook her head. "Sheriff… I appreciate you wanting to help me, but where can I go? I can't outrun them, and if I hide they'll find me. All either would do is delay what I have coming."

"Not where I can take you." He said. "I know a place they'll never be able to get you, even if they knew you were there."

"You want me to flee the country?" She asked, not quite sure what he was implying.

"More like… fleeing jurisdiction." Sheriff replied.

"I'm confused… What is this place?"

"I can't tell you here, but trust me when I say they could absolutely use your rifle skills."

"They? Who's they?"

"People who can protect you." Sheriff repeated. "I know it's a lot to take in, but if you're interested, we have to go now. I sent my deputies on some goose-chases, but it won't take them long to try and find me. Will you come with me?"

Milo contemplated the offer. On one hand, she had no idea what Sheriff was talking about. What was this place he was going to take her? Who were these people who could protect her? What did 'protect' mean? Why would her rifle skills be useful to them? Were they some kind of band of other outlaws?

No. Sheriff would never send her to something like that. She trusted him, which at this point was a hard thing to obtain. Wherever this was, Milo knew she could trust it. Plus, she really did not want to have to face punishment for her father. The thought of her rotting in a jail cell or hanging when her father got off with nothing…

"Ok." Milo said. "I'll go with you."

"Good." He replied. "Let's get going then."

Squatting, Milo grabbed her rifle from off the floor and followed Sheriff out the door. Once outside, Sheriff was quick to glance around them, making sure no one would see Milo get into his car. Once down the concrete path, Milo slipped into Sheriff's police car and propped her rifle between her legs.

Without speaking, Sheriff turned on the engine and pulled out into the road. As they began driving, he reached to his side and pulled out his phone. He quickly dialed in a number and held the device to his ear.

"Ralph, it's me. I-… Yes the line is secure. Listen, how quickly can you leave the site? … Chattanooga. … Yes today. … Yes right now. … Tell them there's a new recruit you need to pick up. … I'll explain when you get here, just make it fast."

And with that, he closed the phone and placed it in the cup holder.

"Chattanooga?" Milo asked.

"Yes." He replied. "That's where my contact will meet you."

Contact?

It sounded to Milo like this was going to be more permanent than she had expected. Then again, she was wanted for murder. Not like she could stay here. But if she was going to leave…

"Can we stop by my house real quick?"

"It's too far out of the way." He shook his head.

"I need to grab something."

"Jessica, there's no time."

"This is the last time I'll be here, isn't it?"

Sheriff didn't respond, but the look on his face told Milo enough.

"Sheriff please. There's just one thing I need to grab before we go."

They pulled up to a stop sign and stopped. Sheriff flipped his turn signal to the right and opened his mouth to rebuttal, but Milo quickly spoke first.

"I need a reminder of Benjamin."

The words Sheriff was going to speak caught in his throat. Sighing, he tapped the steering wheel in contemplation, before flipping the turn signal left.

"Thank you Sheriff." Milo said as they drove in the direction of her house. "Thank you."

December, 2003

"Turns out Sheriff was apart of Iota-10. He called a recruiter to meet us over in Chattanooga, where he insisted I join the Foundation. That's how I joined MTF."

Rigby hadn't said anything while Milo recounted the events. He just stood leaning against the balcony, one arm on the railing, one over his mouth in contemplation.

"You once asked me why I never go back to Tennessee or my home town. That's why. I'm wanted. The Foundation protects me from the law."

"I never realized the situation surrounding your recruitment was so complicated." Rigby said after a few moments.

"It's not complicated." Milo continued. "I murdered my father, and the Foundation was the only way out."

"No no… it is complicated." Rigby turned to her. "Firstly, I don't think anyone blames you for what you did. Your dad murdered Benjamin in front of you and got off unpunished. In my opinion, your actions were absolutely justified."

Milo let out a small exhale of relief after hearing this opinion.

Just as she did, a cold breeze blew by her face. It masked the sound of her breath, as well as cause her to sniffle. She never did do good in the cold. Together, she and Rigby stood leaning against the railing, neither saying a word.

"Should I regret it?" She eventually said.

"Huh?" Rigby turned to her confused.

"Should I regret killing my father?"

He sighed.

"I… don't know."

Milo nodded. "I'm asking because I don't."

A hoot from the owl from earlier reached her ears. Milo looked out across the vast woods, again trying to catch a glimpse of it. But like before, she couldn't tell where it had come from, other than forward.

"I don't feel any guilt or shame when I think of myself pulling the trigger. I'm wondering if that makes me a bad person."

Rigby opened his mouth to reply, but stopped and closed it. Then he opened it again and spoke.

"Mind if I get a little philosophical?"

Milo turned to him.

"I'd say that you not regretting it is what makes you a good person."

"What?" She replied, furrowing her brow.

"It's the difference between avenging someone and taking revenge. Revenge is giving into anger and going overboard with what you personally consider justice. Avenging is righting a wrong that was done. The line between the two is thin and blurry… but ultimately people who choose revenge go on to regret it. You not regretting it tells me it was done to avenge Benjamin, even if it was encouraged by emotions."

"Did you come up with that off the top of your head?"

"Let's just say I think about it a lot." He said, resting his chin on his arms.

The way Rigby spoke gave Milo the impression that there were more to his words. A lot more. She didn't push to know more, however.

"Who knows about your situation?" Rigby asked.

"Besides the people directly involved? Just you and Black. The recruiter has an idea, but doesn't know any specifics."

"So none of our officers know?"

Milo shook her head.

"Probably for the best." He straightened. "I can't imagine everyone will see eye-to-eye with you on this. Long certainly wouldn't… he's too much of a boyscout."

"That's why I haven't told anyone, and why I expect you to not tell anyone either."

"My lips are sealed."

A faint rumbling sound made its way to their ears. The two of them looked out towards the mountain in front of them, which seemed to be where the source was coming from. The rumbling slowly grew in volume, before it was clear to be the sound of distance explosions. Simultaneously, brilliant flashes of colorful lights began popping in the clouds hovering over the mountains. From the looks of it, the light was reflected from below, rather than being within the clouds itself.

Fireworks.

Rigby turned to Milo and smirked.

"Happy new year."

Milo nodded. Hopefully it would be happy.

September, 1998

"Wake up."

Milo stirred as Sheriff shook her shoulder. She was in the passenger seat of his police vehicle, laying in an awkward position that had allowed her to sleep. Blinking, she sat up and looked around.

It was dark outside now, though the lights that surrounded them allowed Milo to see. It looked like they were on an airport runway? There were some massive garages, and the few small planes that surrounded them gave Milo the impression that they were in some private sector of the airport. In front of them was a small helicopter, just touching down for landing.

"Let's go Jessica." Sheriff said, opening his door and stepping out.

Milo looked down at her lap. In her hand was the photograph she and Benjamin had taken a few years ago.

It had been a wonderful day. She and him met in the same opening in the woods they had met every week since they began dating. She remembered that day specifically because it had been the first time Benjamin had tried alcohol. Milo had managed to convince him to go against his parent's wishes and try it. It was rough at first, with Benjamin throwing up several times; but by the end of the month he could keep up with her.

Perhaps in the future she'd be able to smile at the memories, but right now they were too painful to think about.

Shoving the photo into her pocket, Milo opened her door, grabbed her rifle, and followed Sheriff to the helicopter.

A man stepped outside of the pilot side, wearing a uniform Milo had never seen before.

"This had better be worth it." The pilot cried. "This the recruit?"

"It is." Sheriff replied, walking towards the pilot. Milo stayed back, choosing to let Sheriff do the talking.

"What's her military branch?"

"She isn't military."

"Government agency?"

Sheriff shook his head.

"Police force?"

"She has no combat background."

The pilot narrowed his eyes.

"You want me to recruit someone with no combat experience into MTF?"

MTF? Milo thought.

"She's the best shot this side of Site-73."

The pilot shook his head.

"Aim doesn't make an agent." He said. "I'm going to need more than that."

"She… Just trust me on this."

"I need a reason, Darek." The pilot folded his arms. "The Foundation needs a reason."

Sheriff turned to look at Milo, then sighed and looked back at her.

"She needs asylum."

"Alright…" The pilot seemed satisfied with this. "Which GoI is after her?"

"The Tennessee police."

The pilot furrowed his brow, before realizing the situation.

"You want me to recruit a fugitive?!"

"It's not what you think…" Sheriff said hastily. "She was justified in what she did."

"And what did she do?"

Sheriff hesitated, realizing he spoke a little too quickly.

"Manslaughter." He half-lied.

"Oh great. Yeah the brass will love that one." The pilot scoffed.

"Ralph please." Sheriff was begging now. "This is her only option left. The circumstances are convoluted. She isn't bad, just… in the wrong place at the wrong time."

The pilot didn't say anything, though the look on his face gave Milo the impression that he was in deep thought.

"They'll hang her, Ralph. I'm begging you to take her."

The pilot bit his lower lip, before letting out a deep sigh.

"Alright. I'll take her in."

"Thank you." Sheriff let out a breath of air.

"But if this backfires in anyway, it'll be you who answers for it." The pilot pointed at Sheriff.

"That's ok." He replied. "Just take her as far from here as possible."

"Alright." The pilot said, before turning and making his way back to the helicopter. "Send her over after saying your goodbyes."

"Goodbyes?" Milo asked.

Sheriff hadn't told her anything about his plan. Granted, she didn't ask, too busy mourning Benjamin. But after the interaction Sheriff and the pilot just had…

"Where am I going, Sheriff?"

"Away." He turned to her.

"Where? And what's this MTF… and… Foundation you were talking about?"

"Milo…" The sympathy dripping in Sheriff's voice. "Your world is about to change more than you can imagine. You may, or may not like it. Hell, as someone apart of this world, I wish you didn't have to be apart of it. But it's the only way now. The Foundation will keep you safe from the law, but you'll need to do what they say."

"I don't understand." Milo said. "Where am I going? What is this other world you're talking about?"

"You'll see." Sheriff patted Milo's shoulder, before walking past her and towards the car. He stopped, and quickly made his way back. "I almost forgot, you can't take your rifle."

Nodding, Milo held out the gun and dropped it into Sheriff's outstretched hand. Taking it, he turned and continued to the car.

"I'm not going to see you again, am I?"

"No." Sheriff stopped.

"And Jacob?"

He shook his head.

"Then tell him thank you… for everything."

"I will."

"And thank you too, Sheriff."

Sheriff nodded, before continuing his trek to the car. Opening the door, he sat inside, turned on the engine, and began to move. Milo watched at the police car turned and drove away, staring at it until it rounded a building and disapeared.

"You coming?"

Milo turned to the pilot, who was sitting in the cockpit of the helicopter.

"Yeah." She replied, making her way to the cabin. The blades of the helicopter began to stir as she took her seat in the back.

"Close the door." The pilot said as he flipped switches.

Milo obeyed, pulling the cabin door shut. A roaring began to echo in the cabin as the blades spun faster and faster.

"So…" She began. "Where exactly are we going?"

"There's a dossier on the seat next to you. It'll tell you everything you need to know."

Milo looked right. Sure enough, in the empty seat was a small piece of folded paper. Grabbing it, she gazed at the cover page and processed what she was looking at.

The first thing her eyes went to was the unfamiliar black and white logo on the cover page. The second thing her eyes went to was the title just above the logo, which Milo read silently in her head.

Welcome to the SCP Foundation.

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