In the brisk early morning of Holland Valley, before the sunrise, Rye & Sons Aviation sat silent and tranquil. The runway lay vacant. The planes were all away in the hangar. A solitary porch light illuminated Nick's house, where he now lived alone. The flag of Eden's Gate adorned his garage door.

Emerging from his home, shotgun in hand, Nick squinted into the darkness, aiming in your general direction. "Hold on now, stranger. Don't take another step," he warned. The dimness prevented him from discerning whether you were a friend or a foe. "If you're one of them fuckin' Resistance bastards..."