As Sarah and I navigated through the throngs of people, the intensity of their gazes upon us was palpable. The emotions of the community were raw and unfiltered, laid bare for all to see.

When we finally reached the front, my heart raced as I broke through the crowd. Murmurs quieted, and all eyes shifted towards us. The leader of the raiders met my gaze as I walked by him, a spark of recognition - or perhaps defiance - flickering in his intense stare.

Sarah broke away from me and found a spot near the front, while I made my way to sit at the table with the other key townspeople.

Mayor Jim Haskins stood, his presence radiating a sense of calm over the agitated assembly. "Alec, glad you could join us. With your arrival, we now have all essential members to decide this raider's fate," he announced.

A mix of fear, anger, and a thirst for justice thickened the air. Jim surveyed the crowd, each face telling a story of loss and endurance. "This individual," he gestured towards the bound raider, "has unleashed violence upon us, inflicting deep scars within our community."

The room erupted with voices, a chaotic rejoinder of pain and rage. Calls for justice collided with demands for immediate retribution. "He deserves a fair trial!" one voice boomed confidently. "No, he must face punishment now!" another countered vehemently, bitterness lacing their words.

Jim's piercing gaze fell upon the captive raider, his voice devoid of any warmth as he addressed him. "What is your name?" he demanded sharply.

The raider met Jim's stare with a sneer, unfazed by the intensity in his eyes. "Name's Chastity," he spat out, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "And I'm just the sweetest peach this side of the Mississippi." His words were met with a wave of jeers and scoffs from the crowd.

Tom Bennett, our head of security and a former police officer, leaned forward, his voice a menacing rumble. "Keep making jokes and we might just have to cut out your tongue," he threatened, his words laced with a dangerous edge. "No point in a trial at all if you can't speak to defend yourself." The harshness of his words was echoed by the furious reactions of the audience.

The raider faltered under the intense pressure, his facade crumbling. "David," he finally admitted, his previous bravado replaced by defeat. I couldn't blame him. That was one hell of a threat, and Tom was enough of a bastard to do it.

An instant uproar erupted – boos, hisses, and cries of fury filled the space, directed towards David. "Fuck you, David! Wish you'd been torn apart by that monster!" someone shouted from the crowd.

Jim raised his hands, trying to calm the chaotic scene. "Our goal is justice, not mob rule," he reminded them sternly, barely audible over the clamor.

Marlene, a former teacher, and our head of humanitarian resources, stepped up with the first question. Her usual caring demeanor was now overshadowed by an underlying anger as she spoke: "Why did you attack us? What were you hoping to gain?"

David sneered back at her. "Survival," he spat out bitterly. "You think you're the only ones struggling to make it? We do what's necessary." His response only fueled further anger among the crowd.

After the shouting died down, Bill, a mechanic with calloused hands from years of hard labor, stepped forward. His gaze never wavered as he asked David: "Where are you from? How many more of your kind are out there?"

David sneered again, the corners of his lips curling with malice. His voice was smooth and cold as he spoke, dripping with disdain and a sense of superiority. "More of us than you'd like to believe," he taunted, his words laced with a dangerous edge. The group gathered in the mess hall shifted uncomfortably at his ominous tone.

Rita, her eyes filled with hurt and anger, stepped forward from the crowd. Her voice trembled slightly as she addressed David. "Did you kill those people at the nearby farm a few weeks ago?" Her question quivered with pain and accusation.

David's gaze flicked away for a brief moment before returning to meet Rita's steady stare. The silence that followed his non-answer weighed heavily on everyone present, a silent condemnation of his actions.

The room erupted into murmurs and whispers, each person grappling with their own thoughts and emotions about the situation.

Jim's voice suddenly cut through the chaos, commanding attention. "We need to hear it straight from you, David," he said firmly. "This is your chance to speak up and explain yourself. Why should we even consider showing mercy in your case?"

David swiveled in his chair to face Jim fully, a defiant glint in his eyes. "Mercy? You think I'm sitting here expecting mercy?" he scoffed. "I am well aware of my actions." He paused for a moment before continuing with a dark smirk. "But don't kid yourselves – raider or fine upstanding townsfolk like yourselves... Everyone in this room has blood on their hands."

A low rumble of murmurs erupted once more, David's blunt words hitting uncomfortably close to home for all those present.

Elise emerged from the crowd, her expression concerned but confrontational, unwilling to be denied. She spoke softly but firmly. "David, did you ever stop to think about the innocent lives your raids have shattered? The children who have lost everything?"

For a moment, David's confident facade faltered, a hint of doubt and regret flashing across his face. "Children," he began, his voice laced with a bitter realization. "In this world, they don't have the luxury of innocence." His words held a harsh truth. With every word he spoke, I became convinced that sparing his life had been the correct choice. "We have all lost that privilege," he continued. "I know that all too well.

My mind flashed back to our encounter, him leaping towards me with abandon. "FOR MY DAUGHTER!" tearing from his throat.

The room was filled with a mixture of emotions, ranging from sorrow to anger. The mention of children only added more weight to the already heavy atmosphere, reminding all of us of the brutal realities we had faced. Hank, the butcher I had met with just before the attack, stood up and his question hung in the air like a dark cloud, his accent heavier than usual as emotion filled his throat. "How many? How many have you killed?"

David met his gaze without flinching. "Counting was never a priority. Survival was."

A young woman named Mia stepped forward, her voice trembling with barely contained emotion. "My brother...was he one of your victims? He disappeared during one of your raids not too long ago."

David's expression softened for a moment before hardening once again. "I can't say for sure. Maybe. We didn't keep prisoners. But there are other raider groups. I don't know. I can't say for sure. But... I'm sorry for your loss." He paused, scanning the room. "I'm sorry for all your losses. Truly. But for surviving, for doing what I have done...No, I'm not sorry for that."

The room fell into a stunned silence at his unexpected apology. Mia retreated, her grief acknowledged but not eased.

Mrs. Whitaker spoke up next, her tone genuinely curious rather than accusatory. "David, what events in your past led you down this path of violence?"

A dark shadow crossed David's face as he recalled memories that he would rather forget. "Loss," he stated simply. "I was just like all of you once...but then I lost my daughter in the early months. And in my rage, I killed those responsible. And then I killed those who allowed it to happen. And then I killed those who stood by and watched. And then I killed anyone who tried to stop me from seeking revenge..." He trailed off, a haunted look in his eyes. "And then I just kept on killing. Turns out, I'm pretty good at it. That's how I ended up here."

Despite his words, I could see the conflict in his eyes and wondered if he truly believed his own justifications for his actions.

A young man, whose features were unfamiliar to me, spoke hesitantly. "Do you have any regrets? All the raids, the violence? Are you proud of what you've become? Do you think your daughter would be proud of what you've become?"

David appeared lost in thought for a moment before answering. "Regret? There's no space for that in my life. But pride? No, there's no sense of pride in who I've become. And as for my daughter...no, she wouldn't approve."

His admission caused a subtle shift among the crowd.

Carl, a practical man who used to run the local hardware store, posed a pointed question. "If given the chance to start over, knowing what you know now, would you do things differently?"

David leaned back in his chair. "Well no shit. Don't we all wish for second chances? Unfortunately, life doesn't always work that way. It's easy to judge when you're not on the front lines."

Clara, a survivor of a raid herself, stepped forward and asked softly but firmly. "Did you ever consider the families, the lives you were tearing apart during those attacks?"

David met her gaze, a flicker of understanding passing between them. "Every single time. But in the heat of battle, morals can easily be pushed aside. You act first and think later. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Morality is always the first casualty of war. Fuck it all, is this really going to be my final conversation? Just full of clichés? Just shoot me already."

Tom's voice suddenly cut through the tense atmosphere, his words dripping with disapproval. "Your desperation brought you right to our doorstep. Why would you attack a community that is trying to rebuild?"

David defiantly straightened up in his chair, straining against the chains that bound him. He pulled his hand into his lap and extended his middle finger towards Tom, a clear display of indignance on his face as he responded with a harsh dose of reality. "Rebuild? Ha! Fuck you, man. You think you're the last hope for humanity? This ain't no paradise lost, no fuckin' Garden of Eden." A few unexpected laughs broke out from the group at his sarcastic remark, but quickly died down as David's words turned darker. "I know what you've resorted to here. I know that smell," he continued, disgust evident in his tone. "Eating your own. I've never had to stoop that low." Another wave of discomfort rippled through the onlookers. I watched several individual's mouths twist and contort, sucking at their teeth, likely contemplating their most recent meal.

"We are all just struggling to survive another day," David continued, his voice growing more intense. "Your community may have resources, but let's not dress it up as something noble or lie to yourselves. At least we allow our dead to rest."

The chants and shouts for his execution began to die down as his words struck a nerve in many of them. It was hard to deny the truth in what he said. In that instant, their thirst for blood seemed hypocritical and shallow.

Without warning, David made a face and bent over and made an odd attempt to rub his nose across his jeans but couldn't quite reach. "Good God my nose itches. Could someone... Please, I swear I'm not going to bite."

But the crowd just stared at him, some with pity and others with amusement. I couldn't help but laugh at his misfortune, but Echo's voice suddenly cut through my laughter.

"It's not funny," Echo interjected, its tone serious. "I too experience itching sensations sometimes. It is a frustrating feeling that I cannot alleviate no matter how much I move or squirm. I think it happens when there is an excess of something in our system."

"So that's what you're doing!" I exclaimed, my humor returning as I imagined Echo's small form wriggling inside my head in a futile attempt to relieve an itch. "I thought you were trying to scramble my brains."

"It is not amusing, Alec," Echo replied in a stern tone. "It is a distressing sensation that I would rather not experience." But its words did nothing to stop the grin from spreading across my face.

David's face contorted into a scowl, his eyes narrowing as he glared at me. "Quit laughing, fuckface," he spat out.

With a resigned sigh, Sarah stood up from her seat and sauntered over to David. She tweaked his nose, hard, causing him to let out a pained yelp. "Ouch," he protested. "There was no need for that. I don't go around torturing people. Show me the same courtesy, fuck."

Contorting and twisting his face for a moment, he shook his head once before his sharp gaze returned back to me. "Hey, you," he called out loudly, cutting through the murmurs of the surrounding crowd. "You the strong, silent type, huh?"

I hesitated before answering, unsure of where this was going. "What do you mean?"

He chuckled darkly. "Just saying you're a mean son of a bitch. You know that?"

The nearby onlookers began to take notice, their curious and speculative gazes turning towards me. Even Jim and Tom glanced over with surprise and interest. The attention made me uneasy.

"Because I laughed at your itchy nose?" I asked incredulously.

David leaned in closer, the chains binding him clinking softly as he did so. "No," he whispered. "Because you took down half my fuckin' guys with just a 9mm. Don't think I didn't recognize you the second you walked in here. I've never seen anything like it before." He paused for a moment before asking, "So what's your story? Military background? Special Ops?"

I couldn't help but offer a small smile at his assumption, remembering my past life. "No," I replied quietly. "I was studying astronomy."

David leaned back in his chair and burst into laughter, the sound filling the room. "A fuckin' wannabe astronaut?" he exclaimed between gasps for air. "That's rich! Fuck man, I had my eye on you the whole time, I was actually worried you were gonna come my way! Almost taken out by Buzz fuckin' Lightyear over here." He tilted his head back and gaped at the ceiling in mirth before finally composing himself. When he spoke again, his tone was more serious. "But hey, you know what? I used to be a goddamned math teacher. So you never know. So what is it exactly you do around here?"

Whispers and murmurs rippled through the packed crowd, their eyes darting back and forth between David and me. I remained silent, feeling the weight of their expectation on my shoulders as I bit the inside of my cheek thoughtfully. Finally, I gave a slight head shake and spoke up with a calm but firm tone. "Just a scout, dude."

David eased back into his chair, a playful glint in his eye. His boots thumped rhythmically against the concrete as he bounced his knees in excitement. "Just a scout, huh? Fuck man," he remarked with a sly grin. "Wish I had someone with half your skills on my team. With you by our side, taking down that monster would've been a piece of cake. We'd dominate every town we came across without a doubt."

The murmurs in the crowd intensified at David's words, tension hanging thick in the air. Tom's gaze shifted from David to me, his expression deep in thought as if piecing together a puzzle about this 'monster' David spoke of.

Jim, sensing the shift in the room, turned to me with a determined look in his eyes. "Alec, is it true? Were you the one who led the charge against those raiders?"

The hush that fell over the room was almost suffocating, all eyes now focused on me as if awaiting my verdict. "What the fuck? How did this become me on trial?" I couldn't help but think to myself.

Pushing aside my own thoughts and meeting Jim's earnest gaze, I replied with careful consideration, "I played my part, but it was a community effort. We stood together against them. I was the first over the wall..."

David's boisterous laughter echoed through the crowd, his amusement at my diplomatic response clear. "My, my, quite the smooth talker, aren't you?" His eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned in closer. "But I saw firsthand what you're capable of out there. You were the only one over the wall, my friend. The rest of these cowards hid behind your barriers. Your talents go far beyond just being a scout."

A ripple of whispers and nods spread among the listeners, their curiosity piqued by David's words. Amidst the murmurs, a derogatory comment about me being a 'psycho' floated up, drawing a sharp look of annoyance from Sarah.

She quickly came to my defense, her voice laced with irritation. "He's not a psycho. Alec is skilled and has a big heart. We're lucky to have him among us."

Her unexpected support caught me off guard. I hadn't realized I had allies in the community beyond Martin. Sarah's words seemed to shift their perception of me.

Right on cue, Martin, always ready with a comeback, bellowed from the back of the crowd, "That's right fuck knuckles! Did y'all enjoy having water that didn't taste like shit this morning? Give the man a round of applause!"

David's gaze remained fixed on me, his smirk never leaving his face. "You've earned my respect, Buzz," he said. I scowled at the nickname. "That had better not fuckin' stick," I muttered.