His sleep was deep and dreamless, untroubled as it often was by his worries and past. Between the bed and his woman--mostly the latter--nothing could bother him from recovering after the climb and the hearing. Nothing except the alarm that cut right through every sense of comfort he had. He didn't wake at first, the initial piercing peal of it taking his mind back to Safeco, to the day the invasion had begun, when the army was sighting emerging from the ruins of the city around them. A hand grasped his shoulder--<br/><br/>--and he was woken up, stirred from the memory of that last stand more abruptly than he'd have liked. He didn't say a word, and climbed out after her, pulling his clothes and armor into place swiftly. He emerged into the hallway with her, and reached out to catch the arm of a Runner rushing past them. "What's going on?" he asked, and either his tone or the look on his face was enough to convince the annoyed Runner to respond.<br/><br/>"An invader," she explained, yanking her arm free. "One person coming up the pass, but he's gigantic and alone." She turned to rush back to whatever she was doing as Carson glanced at Malia.<br/><br/>"Does the alarm sound every time a single person comes snooping?" he asked rhetorically, then took off toward the main gates with her. He drew his pistol and checked that it was loaded and ready, then opened a container on his belt to ensure that the other three clips he carried were all primed. He couldn't explain why, but something about this made his gut clench, and not in the pleasant way it did when Malia kissed him. At the gate a tight knot of Runners had gathered around the peephole, struggling to get a glimpse of what was coming, and Carson opted instead to take the stairs up to the next floor, where a series of windows allowed for a less impeded view.<br/><br/>Down below, standing on the mountain path about a hundred feet back from the gate, was a single man. True to the Runner's word, he was gigantic, at least eight feet tall where he stood. His torso, naked to the elements, was bulging with muscle, and a crimson symbol adorned his bare chest. Crude metal painted red had been riveted in place on his bare flesh, shaped like a pair of crossed swords. A shaggy beard met with an unkempt mop of hair, obscuring the man's eyes, but his teeth gleamed with a feral grin in the morning sunlight. He carried no visible weapons, though Carson sensed he didn't have to.<br/><br/>"Who do I have to talk to in order to get that gate open?" Carson asked her, ripping his eyes away from the soldier. How the man had found them was anyone's guess--it had either been chance that he showed up on the heels of himself and Malia, or he had heard the Growler and come shuffling after it. Either way, Carson would kill him.