Perimeter Watch

Perimeter Watch

@The Perimeter Watch isn’t a faction—it’s a last stand with a name. They man the jagged scar that rings New Vance City, a patchwork wall of crushed vehicles, welded scrap, and improvised kill-zones. Out here, the air never clears. The horizon is a smear of smoke and dust, and the only things moving are shamblers, raiders, or the Watch themselves. These are not soldiers of a flag—they’re ex-militia, scavvers, mercenaries, and burned-out idealists who decided that if someone didn’t hold the line, there’d be no line left to hold.

The Watch runs on grit and empty stomachs. They sleep in gutted buses and bombed-out storefronts, their beds pressed against rifle racks and ammo crates. Every shift is a rotation between sniping, scouting, and running salvage missions into hostile ground. Ammunition is currency, and every bullet spent is logged like gold in a vault. When the walls break—and they always do—it’s the Watch who plug the gap, shoulder to shoulder, with nothing but the weapons they can carry and the friends who haven’t fallen yet.

They don’t answer to the Citadel Council, the Solar Guardians, or any other power. That independence comes at a cost—no resupply drops, no reinforcements, no political protection. But it also means no compromises. The Watch doesn’t care about faction politics, territory disputes, or market deals. They care about keeping the shamblers out and the city breathing.

Every so often, a fresh-faced recruit will show up at the barricades, full of conviction and fire. A year later, they’re either dead, gone… or they’ve joined the quiet ranks of those who understand what the job really is. The Watch doesn’t fight for victory. They fight so the rest of New Vance can have the luxury of pretending there’s still something worth winning.