After the Collapse, New Vance had no real edge. People ran when shamblers broke through inner blocks. Others tried to force their way in from the wastes. Every open street let danger move closer to the city’s center.
Small groups stepped in because no one else would. Some were former soldiers. Some were scavvers. Some were locals who refused to leave. They dragged cars into the streets, stacked concrete, and welded scrap together to block entry points. No one paid them. No one told them what to do. They stayed because if they didn’t, the city would keep shrinking until it failed.
At first, these groups worked alone. Over time, they started talking. They shared warnings. They passed along sightings. They agreed not to abandon a position without alerting the next post. People called them “edge guards” or “line holders.” The name Perimeter Watch came later, mostly so other factions had something to write down.
The Watch is not trying to expand territory or gain power. It exists for one reason: to stop infection and violence from pouring into the city all at once. They fight shamblers, raiders, and unstable tech threats before those threats reach the inner districts. When an attack happens, they take the hit first so others can lock doors, move people, or get out.
They do not believe they can defeat the world outside. The ruins keep making new dangers. Their goal is simpler. Hold long enough for the city to live one more day.
The Perimeter Watch is not an army. There is no headquarters. There is no payroll. Each outpost stands on its own, built to fit whatever street or ruin it guards.
Most posts are made from wrecked vehicles, shipping containers, broken storefronts, and fencing. Some reuse old military barriers. Others block alleys, ramps, or collapsed overpasses where movement is forced into narrow paths.
Each outpost has a small core group that stays put. Others rotate in when they can. They share bunks, ammo, food, and water. Most posts have basic medical supplies, masks, and scavenged radios. Many rely on flares, signal fires, or loud alarms tied into old systems.
Life on the line is tense and repetitive. People patrol ruined streets. Others stay on the walls and watch for movement. Some repair barricades and clear firing lanes. Rest is short and uneasy. Silence usually means something is coming.
Food is basic. Supplies arrive when they arrive. Many posts survive on trade, favors, or salvage. Ammunition matters more than almost anything else. Fighters reload spent casings by hand and guard usable magazines carefully.
Outposts follow simple routines. They raise signals to show they still hold. They write down raids and outbreaks in notebooks or damaged tablets. When a nearby post goes quiet, they decide whether they can spare people to check on it.
There is no single leader of the Perimeter Watch. Each post follows the person who knows the job best. Experience matters more than rank. Titles are casual and change often. If a leader dies, someone else steps up.
A few veterans move between posts to share information. They warn others when big threats are moving. They suggest where to reinforce or where to pull back. They do not command. No one is forced to obey them.
New people are always needed. Many recruits are former soldiers or security who left faction control behind. Others are scavvers or outsiders. Some are city residents who lost homes or family and refuse to hide again.
Joining is simple. Recruits prove they can handle a weapon, treat wounds, and follow orders under pressure. Then they work a real shift on a dangerous section of the line. If they hold, they stay. If they panic or run, they are sent back and not allowed to return.
The Watch values reliability. People care about who shows up when alarms sound. Talk is blunt. Promises are judged by action. They do not trust uniforms, speeches, or symbols.
Most posts mark their walls with names, tallies, or short statements scratched into metal. These are not slogans. They are reminders of why they stay.
The Perimeter Watch stands apart from most power groups. Everyone depends on them, even if no one likes admitting it.
The Citadel Council understands that if the edge fails, their districts suffer. They sometimes send medicine, ammo, or technical help to posts near important routes. They often try to attach conditions. The Watch usually takes the supplies and ignores the demands.
The Solar Guardians treat the Watch as fellow defenders. They guard power zones. The Watch guards streets. When large threats move, they share information. Sometimes Guardians lend heavy weapons or vehicles. Sometimes the Watch protects convoys in return.
The Hydro Hegemony is practical. If a post guards water infrastructure, the Hegemony pays for that protection. If not, they keep their distance.
The Shadow Syndicate deals vary by area. In some places, smugglers trade supplies or information for safe passage. In others, the Watch fights them outright when Syndicate activity weakens defenses.
Gear Rats and raiders are open threats. They test barricades, probe weak points, and attack when they think they can break through. The Watch responds fast and hard. Temporary truces happen only when something worse shows up.
One rule stays firm: no deal that weakens the line.
Every year makes the job harder. Buildings collapse. Streets sink. Old defenses rot. New shambler strains appear. Raiders bring heavier weapons. Some tech ruins poison entire blocks.
Nothing about the Watch has really changed since the first barricade went up. They still stand at the edge. They still take the first blow. They still try to keep the city from falling inward.
They know this cannot last forever. Until it ends, they hold.