Welcome to New Libertalia

“You still sure about this?” Ian’s voice finally pried, breaking the monotony of the radio’s droning. Veronica jerked at the sudden inquiry, heart fluttering for a moment.

“Yeah. No choice now.”

“We’ve got less than an hour until we’re at the crossing, you’re absolutely sure?”

“For the last time, yes. Drop me at the border and I’ll make the rest of the way myself if you can’t do it,” she stated with finality. Ian sighed.

“I’m with you. But we need to execute this flawlessly or we’re screwed, you get that, right..? We may have to use that,” he gestured with his chin to her hands. Veronica glanced down, not realizing her fingers had been idly dancing, weaving a drunken spider web of thin golden chain. Tangled in this mess of precious metal and resting in her palm was the gold, heart shaped locket Matthew had given her… She clenched her jaw, drowning unwelcome memories in pain.

“What do you mean ‘use’?”

“Our papers aren’t exactly fool proof here, Nic, I bought them off a smuggler working out of a Waffle House,” he shrugged. “That’s real gold, right? Might be a big enough bribe in an emergency.”

“Not happening.”

“Nic-”

“Not. Happening.”

Ian sighed. “Alright. Alright... But you’ve heard the stories. Don’t make us the next one because you can’t let go of the past.”

She ignored him despite the jab at her heart, letting her anger simmer instead. Slowly and methodically beginning the untangling process, Veronica turned her attention out the window, watching the countryside race by in a feeble attempt to relax. In the last shreds of evening light, rusted wrecks of abandoned cars marred the terrain like forgotten headstones… In many ways, they were. Passing at 75 miles per hour, it was hard to make out details, but she had no doubts in her mind that more than one of those cars held the corpses of two young idiots looking for answers - just like her and Ian. She swallowed her nausea, looking through the iron graveyard to where battles were once waged. Pockmarked foothills bore the wounds of artillery bombardments, the nexus points where an unstoppable force met an immovable object.

The burned out husk of a battle tank stood resolutely, still smouldering 23 years after its destruction with an unnatural purple glow. A crashed fighter jet to the east of it lay buried in the mountain side, wings crudely torn off - literally, she assumed. Every tree within a mile radius was exploded, lichtenberg scars across their bark telling a story that felt at home in the legends of Zeus. Framing it all, jungle-like overgrowth tangled this ancient battlefield in random thickets of life - an unyielding monument to the failure of the United States’ efforts to retake the West.

For nearly a week now, they’d driven from the east coast to here, chronicling sights like this. The US claimed anything from the Dakotas to Texas, all the way east to the Atlantic. Libertalia staked its claim on everything from Montana to New Mexico, then due west to the Pacific. The only truth that mattered was that everything north of Denver was hell on earth - that’s where most of the Resource War was being waged.

The route they elected to take in the end was a risk, but nowhere near the suicide mission that trying to traverse the Rockies might’ve been. The Borderlands was the simple answer. Called the Texas Sovereignty by only Texas, these swaths of states bordering the Gulf of Mexico considered themselves “independent.” The sad reality was that the Texas Sovereignty was the redheaded step child neither the East nor West had time for. The Climate Crisis of 2035 had seen to their instability, their derelict power grid an heirloom of a bygone age, and their new role in this world cemented as a southern buffer zone between the continent’s two superpowers. A safe haven of sorts for members of both nations to travel through and resettle, to use as a trade route. Despite the raiders, it was the safest choice.

KSSSTHOOOOM.

The rattling crack of the sound barrier being shattered sent Veronica’s heart plunging into her stomach, snapping her out of her trance. Ian nearly veered off the road in surprise, barely maintaining control. The road sign marking Grasshopper Junction Border Crossing appeared suddenly now like an omen, blasted with powerful flood lights on both sides of the road. There was no arguing anyone could possibly miss it, even less so with fresh tinnitus.

YOU ARE NOW ENTERING THE METASTATES OF NEW LIBERTALIA.

DO NOT STRAY OFF THE ROUTE - IMMIGRATION ENFORCED BY AIR.

VIOLATORS WILL BE EXECUTED.

BORDER CHECK IN 5 MILES - HAVE YOUR IDENTIFICATION AT THE

READY.

~Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness for All~

“Christ, they’re using jets for a border crossing?” he asked, referencing the sign.

“Enforced by air, not aircraft,” she corrected quietly. Ian cautiously leaned into the window, nervously glancing at the night sky and seeing nothing. He knew what was out there, though. They wanted him to know. Veronica’s shaky hands dove into the glove box for their papers, catching Ian’s attention.

“Relax. Just breathe, Nic. We’re just travelers, alright? We’re just like everyone else. Let’s be cordial and we’ll get through this. Big smiles.”

A terminal of gates had been constructed across the road, the highway itself widened to handle whatever passed for immigration here. What struck Veronica most was the relative normalcy of the structure. She had passed through a hundred choke points like this one along the way, checking for any number of random things. Hell, even the one leaving New York had barbed wire, tanks, and military emplacements set up… But here, there were a few flood lights, a few guards, a small queue of cars waiting their turn.

This scared her infinitely more.

One by one, cars dwindled in front of them. She squeezed the locket tighter. ‘For Matt,’ she thought. It was the only thing that kept her going these days.

Now their turn, Ian slowly pulled forward, following every posted sign, every light, every verbal command to the T. So well, he began to worry: What if he was too perfect? Would that attract attention to them? Would that be what blew this all? What about-

Thunk thunk thunk.

In his immense focus and her fear, neither had noticed the immigration officer arriving at the window, knocking against it with a flashlight. Ian apologized profusely, winding it down.

“I am so sorry sir, it’s been a long drive and-”

“Son, calm down! Relax!” he laughed, sympathetic eyes and smile soothing as best they could. “New York plates huh? You two must be scared out of your minds! I promise, half of what you hear is baloney,” he laughed. “You folks ever been out this way before?” The man was authoritative, but soothing, oozing confidence and control of the situation. Ian noted he carried no weapons, nothing beyond a radio in his ear, a device on his wrist, a white armband, and the flashlight. It all added up to one sum.

He didn’t need a weapon.

“No sir. First time. I’m sorry, like you said, we’ve heard a lot of stories. Gets the nerves on edge, you know?”

“Ahh, no worries. Not your fault. You’re victims too, in your own way,” he smiled ominously. “We’ll get you all cleared up and on your way in a jiffy, just need to see your IDs and have you answer some questions. Sound good?”

“Yessir.”

“Yes,” Veronica meekly chimed in, handing the papers over, sharing a glance with Ian for just a second.

“Alrighty there,” the officer whispered, flipping through quietly. Where necessary, he scanned pages with his device. “So where you folks headed?”

“LA,” Ian said.

“Vegas,” Veronica said simultaneously. They both grimaced.

“Very nice, get to see the sights! Vegas is absolutely gorgeous this time of year, but wouldn’t recommend too long a stay - Sin City after all!” he laughed, and they did their best to laugh along as well. “Alright, and reason for your trip?”

“Family,” Veronica replied quickly.

“Family as well,” Ian smiled, waiting a moment to answer.

“Well that’s just wonderful,” the guard continued grinning, “Nice to see people come through! With the fights up north, people have been afraid to travel, and the propaganda engine out east keeps spinning all sorts of- ah, damn, here I am getting political again, I apologize!” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, readjusting his hat. “So, how much did these papers cost you?”

Veronica’s heart froze.

“I’m sorry?” Ian asked.

“The papers! How much? The quality is incredible honestly, probably some of the best I’ve seen. Had to be what, seven, eight grand a piece?”

“Close to it,” Ian said gently, faux decorum shifting to his natural confident posture once more.

“Damn, you folks must be dying to get out here then. Whup, one moment,” he grinned, holding up a finger to pause as he placed his free hand against his ear. “Go ahead… Copy… Blue sedan. Line three, five cars back... 10-4.” Leaning into the window once again, what previously felt comforting was now the presence of a pleasant executioner. “You folks sit tight! I’ll be right back.” Stepping away, Veronica waited a moment before speaking, forcing the air from her lungs.

“Run it.”

“What?”

“Run the goddamn barrier,” Veronica nearly cried, heart attempting to leap from her chest.

“We won’t get fifty feet. Just sit tight,” he sighed, very slowly unholstering his pistol and placing it under the jacket on his lap.

“That’s your plan?”

“It’s a plan, better than running a goddamn border checkpoint with flyers in the air,” he hissed, looking back. His face froze as he found the guard. Veronica followed his gaze, turning in her seat to watch. About fifty feet back, the guard that had just been addressing them waved politely to the unseen occupants of a blue sedan. Within seconds, gunfire began to explode from the sedan’s windshield, slamming into the guard repeatedly, and causing Ian and Veronica to drop for cover.

Out of ammo now, the guard brushed his shirt boredly, unperturbed by the withering assault. Veronica watched now, first hand, how the Metastates of New Libertalia declared their independence.

The border guard took a few short steps and gripped the bumper, flipping the car onto its roof like it was a toy. The occupants began screaming as he climbed atop the undercarriage and jumped, slamming down.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

Each slam more vicious than the last, each crunch pancaking the vehicle further until all screams of panic stopped. Hopping down, he planted his foot against the frame and kicked, sending it tumbling into a mostly full ditch of similarly smashed cars. Dusting his hands off, he jogged back up to Ian’s window with a smile.

“Sorry about that! Been having trouble with some raiders from the ‘Sovereignty,’ he pantomimed. “Just note for the future - the Metastates don’t have immigration papers. Our borders are open to all who come in peace. And if you don’t, well… Just don’t,” he winked. “You just want to follow this route and the signs until you hit Vegas, should only be an hour and a half. Your plates and vehicles are being tracked to make sure you folks check into one of our clinics to get blood tested. Says on your ‘papers’ that Ms. Irons here is a metahuman, buuut we just like to confirm, get you fitted with a nice armband. It’s fashionable, lets you enjoy some nice perks too! Enjoy your stay,” he grinned, and with a tip of his hat, gave a wave to raise the barrier.

Without another word, Ian and Veronica proceeded into Libertalia, learning their first lesson: Libertalia’s founding motto was not an exaggeration.

Peace or Death.

With tepid breath, Veronica squeezed the locket until she swore it would draw blood. Ian ushered them both into the darkness ahead, the light of the Strip guiding them to unknown futures.