The Scavengers... they’re still edible

John stumbled down the tower, driven by a hope that suffocated him as much as fear did. He had seen a figure from the top, a silhouette that hadn't been there before. Could it be possible that there was another survivor in this desolate city? It was so vast that maybe he had overlooked signs or indications of human company. Perhaps, absorbed in his own survival, he had never allowed himself to believe in that possibility. But now, as he ran, the fear that his mind was playing a cruel trick on him weighed heavily in his chest.

He reached the spot where he thought he had seen movement, but there was nothing. Only the oppressive silence of the empty streets. His heart, which had been pounding in his chest, began to beat more slowly, now with a hollow echo. He was losing his mind. It had to be that. The solitude and mental strain were pushing him to the edge. He clenched his fists, trying to calm himself, when suddenly, from an alley, a figure emerged.

A man, covered in an exosuit that seemed more advanced than anything John had ever seen. Even compared to his own, this suit emanated a sense of power and superior technology. John took a step back, his hand instinctively reaching for his weapon, though he didn't draw it.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice tense and distrustful. "What are you doing here?"

The man removed his helmet, revealing his face. African American, with a piercing gaze and a calm expression. He smiled slightly before responding.

"My name is Hugo," he said with a casualness that unsettled John. "And it took me quite a while to find you."

John frowned. None of this made sense. This couldn't be happening. No one could have entered the city. No one.

"How did you get in?" he said, still speaking in a low voice but with contained urgency. "The storm... it destroys everything. There's no way through it."

Hugo looked at him with a calmness that only increased John's uncertainty.

"After all these years, did you really think technology would stay stagnant?" Hugo responded, pointing at his suit. "This gear was designed to withstand the storms the portals generate. But more surprising than that, John, is that you're still alive. We thought the portal had failed and that all that was left was a storm surrounding the city. But it seems you've been the one keeping everything under control, haven't you?"

John didn't answer. He just stared at him, his mind working frantically, trying to discern whether Hugo was real or a manifestation of his mental exhaustion. The man seemed too calm, too prepared, as if his arrival was part of some larger plan. Who was he really? Did he know Cecilia? His team? The questions piled up in his mind, but the answers, if they existed, remained buried behind Hugo's enigmatic smile.

John remained silent. Hugo just smiled with that air of confidence that made him feel even more uncomfortable.

"We're going to see someone who's waiting for you," Hugo said casually.

John frowned, suspicious.

"What are you talking about?"

"Come on, man, you didn't think I came here alone, did you?" Hugo looked at him as if the answer were obvious. "Although we suspected the portal might be malfunctioning, which is why the Horde hadn't escaped, we came to make sure it was sealed. It was a surprise to find signs of life in your base. So someone sent me to find you. I've come for you. Now, let's head back."

John followed Hugo without saying a word, his mind teetering between hope and disbelief. After so many years of solitary struggle, the idea that someone else was there baffled him. Hugo spoke with a calmness that didn't match the chaos John had lived through. The city had become his prison, and the portal, his personal torment. Why had they come now? Why not before?

When they arrived at his base and descended into the basement where the portal was, John stopped, paralyzed by the scene before him. Entire teams of people were moving back and forth, analyzing and working on the portal, installing machinery he didn't recognize. They were doing something he had never believed possible: sealing the portal.

But what surprised him the most was seeing a woman at the center of it all, giving orders, guiding the teams with precision. John recognized her immediately, though he didn't want to believe it. Cecilia. His leader. His mentor. The person who had shaped him and trained him to survive. And the same one who had left him in that hellish city without looking back.

Cecilia turned and, upon seeing him, smiled as if nothing had changed.

"Ah, John... I knew it was you. If anyone could keep the portal under control, it was you. I never had any doubts."

But those words brought him no comfort. John felt the anger begin to burn inside him, mixed with years of pain and loneliness. Was that all? She didn't ask about Carlos? About Liz? About the others who had died alongside him, protecting the portal day after day? The blood of his comrades still weighed on his conscience, and she didn't even flinch.

Cecilia's smile faded when she saw the expression on his face. She knew what he was thinking, but her resolve was firm. The job of closing the portals, of ending the threat, had always been her priority. Sacrifices were inevitable. John and his team had been valuable, but she knew better than anyone: in this war, lives were sacrificed for the greater good. Cecilia wasn't like Edward, who sent his men to the slaughter without a second thought. No, she valued her soldiers, but she also knew not everyone could be saved.

"John..." she said, her tone softer now. "I'm sorry for what happened, truly. But this... this is bigger than all of us."

John looked at her, consumed by the anger and despair accumulated over so many years. His loneliness, his pain, his relentless fight against the Horde while the world thought he was dead, while she thought he was dead... None of that mattered to Cecilia anymore.

"Sacrifices?" John murmured bitterly. "That's all we are to you, right? Just another sacrifice."

Cecilia looked at him, understanding his pain, but also aware of her duty. The sacrifices, though painful, were the price of survival.

"Some sacrifices, John, are necessary," she replied, with a firmness that concealed her own pain. "I'm sorry for what you've had to endure... but this has to end."

Cecilia looked at John. He was a shadow of the man he had once been. She remembered the determined warrior who had advanced without hesitation among the Scavengers. Without saying another word, she ordered her medics to tend to him immediately, ensuring he was in the best possible condition.

John, in his stubbornness, tried to resist.

"I don't need it, I'm fine," he said, taking a step back.

But Hugo, with a smile that exuded confidence and camaraderie, stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, man, don't be stubborn. A little help won't kill you," he said, gently pulling him toward an improvised medical room.

John struggled briefly but realized that fighting Hugo was futile. He was stronger, and his efforts seemed almost ridiculous. Eventually, he allowed himself to be led, resigning to be treated.

As the medics began to examine him, Hugo sat down beside him, relaxed, as if waiting in a lounge rather than in the middle of a devastated city. He looked at him with curiosity, noticing his deteriorated state.

"So, tell me, John... how the hell have you survived all these years?" he asked with a casual tone, though his curiosity was genuine. "I spent hours looking for you and didn't see any traces of food or water anywhere."

John remained silent for a few moments before throwing the question back with indifference:

"You didn't check the fridge, did you?"

"No, as soon as I got here, they sent me to find you," Hugo replied, raising an eyebrow.

John gave a grim half-smile.

"The Scavengers... they're still edible," he said without emotion.

Hugo's face transformed into a mixture of disgust and surprise.

"What? Those things taste awful!" he blurted, then added, "And without the right treatment, they wreck your body in the long run. You know that, right?"

"Do you think I've always looked like this?" John replied, with a hint of irony in his voice.

Hugo burst out laughing, a fresh sound that contrasted with the oppressive atmosphere of the room.

"Haha! No, of course not. Just a little less ugly, but the essence is still there," he joked, giving him a friendly tap on the shoulder.

The shift in Hugo's attitude was palpable. The initial tension had dissipated, replaced by an easy and natural camaraderie. It was clear Hugo was the kind of guy who could make friends anywhere, even in a destroyed, monster-infested city. His light laughter and open disposition cut through the heaviness of the moment.

"But man, eating those creatures... that's real dedication," Hugo continued, a mix of admiration and horror in his voice. "Let's make sure you never have to do that again, okay?"

John, though exhausted, couldn't help but feel a small sense of relief. Not just from the medical treatment, but from the unexpected company of someone as carefree and open as Hugo.

Hugo looked at him, his earlier smile fading. Something in John's words made him pause for a moment, as if he could sense the weight of the years John had spent in solitude, fighting to survive.

"Don't make promises you can't keep," John said gravely, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. "It can be a heavy burden."

Hugo fell silent, taking in the words. He knew John had been through more than anyone could imagine, and the scars weren't just on his body but on his mind and soul.

"Don't take it the wrong way," Hugo finally responded, with an unusual seriousness. "I'm not the kind of guy who makes empty promises. But I'm also not the type to abandon my own. Now that I've found you, you're not alone in this. That, I can guarantee."

John averted his gaze, not responding, letting the silence speak for him. He had learned not to trust words so easily, but something about Hugo, about his open and direct demeanor, made him want to believe, even just a little.

The weight of broken promises still pressed on him, but maybe... just maybe, this time would be different.