Chapter Text
SHERIFF EARL WHITEHORSE WAS GRAPPLING WITH UNCERTAINTY. Hope County, a once serene and familiar place, was now a puzzle to him. It was a small, local community in the heart of Montana, where everyone was connected.
No one would’ve expected that a cult would take it over. It didn’t start as a cult; the father, Joseph Seed, who called himself that, was a charismatic and manipulative figure. He and his brothers moved here nearly ten years ago, presenting themselves as a small religious group. They fed lies about God’s word and a future collapse, and despite the obvious falsehoods, people started to fall for it. It soon grew as Joseph Seed, with his silver tongue and persuasive charm, continued to attract people, and soon they had moved to Hope County to join Eden’s Gate.
As Eden’s Gate continued to expand, its violence escalated. Joseph strategically assigned his brothers to control different regions in the valley, and soon he was using women to become someone called ‘Faith’. Whitehorse had noticed that every so often, there would be a new Faith, and they were always young women with brown hair.
The cult had gotten their hands on weapons and vehicles, and they were tormenting people who didn’t want to join willingly. The residents had a grim choice: join the cult or watch everything they loved get crushed under Joseph Seed’s boot. The situation was so dire that even the sheriff's department of Whitehorse was unable to contain it. They needed to bring in someone bigger to stop Joseph Seed. But Joseph was clever, using his connections to stay under the radar, including his younger brother John Seed, a former successful lawyer in Atlanta.
John Seed, a figure that Whitehorse couldn’t stand, was a man of cunning and influence. His intelligence was undeniable, and it was this very trait that made him so influential. He had a charm that was hard to resist, a charisma that could make you twist on your own words. He knew how to dominate a conversation, and it was this very skill that made Whitehorse certain that the cult hadn’t been taken down yet.
He was losing hope and feeling afraid. The cult wasn’t going to be stopped anytime soon; it was nearly ten years too late to stop them.
It was midday when he sat in his office, hand on his temples as he received yet another call about the cult trying to take over a property in the Henbane, the usual. The relentless nature of these calls, the persistent threat of the cult, was a burden he carried every day. All he could do was send his deputies over to tell those Peggies to clear off, but it never worked. It never did.
His thoughts were interrupted when the phone rang. Expecting it to be another complaint, he picked up the phone and held it to his ear, “Sheriff’s department. Sheriff Whitehorse speaking…” But it wasn't a complaint. It was something unexpected, something that would change the course of his day.
“Hello.” An unfamiliar feminine voice with a Russian accent spoke through, “I’m calling in regards to the Deputy job listing that you’ve had listed… for about five months now?”
Now this had surprised him. Someone calling about the job listing? This was the first time someone had called about it, and he knew why no one would call. Because no one wanted to deal with a cult, he cleared his throat, “Ah, yes…” he replied, “You um- are you calling out of interest in the job? Or are you wanting me to take it down?” The unexpectedness of the call left him momentarily speechless.
There was silence on the other end, and he thought the person might’ve hung up until she spoke through again, “I’m interested in the job.” Her voice sounded blunt and stoic. She didn’t elaborate, as if she were a woman of few words.
But Whitehorse was still in disbelief. Was this woman serious? He cut himself off as he tried to speak, trying to understand her interest, but he finally replied, “You are aware of the cult in Hope County? Unless you’ve called without looking into the job first.”
“I'm aware.” Her voice was matter-of-fact, “When can you do an interview?” She was straight to the point, and Whitehorse could respect that, but he still couldn’t fathom her interest. He still couldn’t understand why he had that listing up.
“I-“ he shook his head, “I can do any day of this week coming up. I can work around you.”
“I’m in Montana at the moment for the next two weeks.” She replied. So she didn’t live in Montana? Based on her accent, did she even live in America? “I live in Atlanta, but I’m planning on moving. I can come in on Tuesday?”
“Tuesday. I’ll be looking forward to meeting you…?”
“Anastasia Rook.” She replied, “If you could give me your email, I’ll send you my resume and previous work experience.”
_
Whitehorse wasn’t sure who he was expecting to meet, but it certainly wasn’t this. Anastasia sat in the chair opposite him. She wore casual clothes and platinum blonde hair in a short ponytail. But what caught his attention was her appearance. She had sharp hazel eyes, and he was sure that one stare could silence a whole room. Her skin was pale with very few blemishes. But the first thing he had noticed when she walked into the room was the scar which split her top lip open, creating a crack which permanently showed a few teeth. The scar then lined halfway up her cheek. She had a few others, a small one lashed on her nose, a line on the other side of her lip and one on her bottom lip. It looked like a bite scar.
She was terrifying. Not to look at, but her whole demeanour was eerie. She looked at him with a blank stare, her face devoid of any emotion. Her silence was palpable, hanging in the air like a heavy fog. She was waiting for him to talk, because he was sure she wasn’t going to break it. So he cleared his throat and looked at the documents he had printed off, “So you served in the Air Force for the US military for seven years?” He would’ve expected her to be older based on her military history; however, she was in her late twenties, having joined the military quite young.
She nodded once before she spoke, her voice was gruff and her Russian accent was clear, “I did. The last two years, I’ve been in law enforcement. So, I have plenty of experience-“
“I’m aware. It’s not your experience I’m worried about, Miss Rook. I think you're more than capable for the job.” Whitehorse then sighed, “Why in god’s name would you want to work for a county which is under the reign of a cult?”
Anastasia shrugged as she raised a single brow, the scar becoming more prominent on her face as it twisted. Her expression remained stern as she leaned slightly forward in her chair. “I want a change.” She replied. This confused Whitehorse further. No one moves to such a dangerous place for ‘a change’. It was clear she noticed his expression, “A cult doesn’t scare me,” she then added, “Besides, I like Montana. It’s less… Industrial than Atlanta. I like the countryside.
“They aren’t just a cult,” Whitehorse replied with a shake of his head, “They’ve been growing for nearly ten years, and there’s more to the eye. Unfortunately, we have no proof, but all of us here think it involves torture, more gory conversions than you expect. If you take a good look at the county, you’ll notice a lot of those cultists have their ‘sins’ carved into them. A way of conversion… It’s a lot to explain, but can you see why no one had applied for the job?”
The Russian woman tilted her head, nonplussed by the cult as she crossed her arms, “You have the listing up for a reason, Sheriff. You still are waiting for something to change…” his eyes widened momentarily. Still, he let her continue, “You want a deputy, and I want the job.” The unexpectedness of her request hung in the air, leaving the Sheriff momentarily speechless.
The corner of Whitehorse’s mouth slightly twitched in disbelief. This woman was either insanely brave or batshit insane for wanting this job. He was leaning more towards the latter. There was definitely something off with her. He’d just met her, and already she was unnerving him. He was half expecting her to be joking, but she didn’t look the joking type. With a sigh, he put the papers down, the tension in the room palpable.
He would be foolish to turn her down. But something about her made him reconsider his initial judgment.
“Seems you're quite headstrong. Look, I know no one else is gonna sign up for this shit, so the job is yours. How long will it take you to relocate?”
Her expression softened, seemingly pleased with herself. She shrugged once before replying, “As soon as possible. Are there any properties for sale close by? Would rather move in straight away than stay at a motel.”
Whitehorse nodded before looking down a moment, “There is an unoccupied cabin here in Holland Valley. Bout a ten-minute drive away from here. If you go to the Spread Eagle across the road, ask for a Mary-May Fairgrave. I know she owns a couple of cabins that she’s more than willing to rent out.”
They went over a few last bits until they both stood and shook hands. Anastasia soon left his office and walked past the older lady at the reception desk, who had greeted her earlier. She was ever so cheerful as she waved Anastasia off, and the new deputy didn’t see how her eyes narrowed at her as she left the building.
Fanart I made of Anastasia! (Can you tell I got bored after I did her face?)
