#calamity5

If she was honest, Cal hadn’t really minded in the beginning. She figured that if she let Byrne take all the credit for the success of their group, he would be forced to face any heat they found themselves in while Cal could simply slip away, responsibility unnoticed and unknown.

Keep others’ eyes away from yourself, and blame will always fall to somebody else. 

When Byrne had first accepted Cal into his scavenger band all those months ago, they had easily been one of the weakest gangs in their part of the city. Byrne might have been naturally strong and decently skilled with a sword, but he wasn’t the stratagem type, and his natural inclination to finish every fight he started had led to a sensible wariness in his gang. It wasn’t an ideal team by any means, but Cal needed the protection.

A hundred twigs bound together are stronger than a single branch on its own.

Cal had taken it upon himself to rectify the more glaring flaws he found in Byrne’s leadership. He had begun to plan out their movements, create routine inspections of their territory, keep track of the meager supplies they were able to find in raids; anything that might give their gang an advantage. 

And for better or for worse, it had worked. Within the year, the group’s success began to attract the attention of smaller bands, and soon alliances were formed that saw the band grow tenfold.

At first the change had been a welcome one: more people meant they could take on riskier raids, and actually pose a sizable threat to the more powerful scavenger groups that roamed their part of the city. But of course, bigger raids were only possible with proper leadership, and as she didn’t trust anyone else, that duty had inevitably fallen to Cal. 

Power is nothing without control.

Every mission required more coordination now, and Cal’s leadership was needed more than ever. Her strategies were no longer just the means to a successful raid, but a requirement for the band's survival. The calls she had to make grew more risky, the stakes more dangerous, and more worryingly, she knew she couldn’t hide behind Byrne’s pretend leadership forever.

What kind of dog never backs down from a fight? A dead one. 

Byrne was always just one tick away from getting himself into a situation from which the band wouldn’t be able to save him, and when the inevitable happened Cal would be the one expected to take charge. And she couldn’t, she needed to maintain the apparent distance between herself and her leadership, as false as it might be, because… Cal had done the one thing she swore to never do.

Protect too much and you’ll be left with nothing. 

She had grown to care for her team. She had spent so much time with them, learning each of their skills and weaknesses, creating the strategies that kept them safe--if she had to watch them brought down as collateral in one of Byrne’s skirmishes, or torn apart in another pointless turf war, or lose their last life because of a mistake she made--

The ones you touch are the ones who die, Cal. Never forget that.