Ch 57: The Road Ahead

The open road stretched endlessly before her, a winding path of cracked asphalt and shifting dust under the pale morning sun. Mira rode alone, her vehicle humming softly against the quiet of the wasteland. It had been four days since she left Gron.

Four days without Kael.

She didn't know how to feel about that.

She had thought splitting up would be liberating—a chance to breathe, to be free from the constant back-and-forth of his plans and calculations. But instead, it felt... strange. Like something was missing.

Mira shook the thought away and focused on the road.

Her destination lay ahead: a small outpost near the edge of Consortium-controlled territory. She had received a job offer—mercenary work. It wasn't glamorous, but it was something she understood. Fighting was simple. Fighting was what she knew.

As she neared the outpost, she saw the telltale signs of a settlement—metal barricades, repurposed shipping containers stacked into makeshift walls, and a few armed guards stationed at the entrance. Unlike Gron, which was a thriving city, this place was practical, rugged, and purely survivalist.

The moment she rolled in, a voice called out.

"Didn't think I'd see you again."

Mira slowed her vehicle and turned toward the speaker. A man leaned against a supply crate, arms crossed, watching her with a smirk.

Dante.

An old acquaintance. Ex-Consortium. The last time she had seen him, they were on opposite sides of a battlefield.

She raised an eyebrow. "Didn't think I'd come back?"

Dante pushed off the crate and walked toward her. "Didn't think you'd want to."

Mira shrugged, stepping off her vehicle. "I go where the work is."

Dante studied her for a moment, then nodded toward the main compound. "Come on. The boss wants to see you."

Inside the Outpost

The outpost's interior was a far cry from Gron's comfort—a mess of dimly lit corridors, scattered weapons, and mercenaries prepping for whatever job they had next. The place smelled like oil, metal, and sweat, a familiar blend of battlefield nostalgia and impending violence.

Dante led her to a room where a group was gathered around a table covered in maps and mission reports.

A woman in her forties, scarred but composed, glanced up as Mira entered.

"You're late," she said.

Mira tilted her head. "Wasn't aware I was on a schedule."

The woman smirked. "Still sharp. That's good. Name's Valka. I run things here."

Mira crossed her arms. "I was told there was a job."

Valka nodded and gestured to the map. "We've been watching Consortium movements near this sector. Something's happening. Big. More convoys, heavier security. Something worth protecting."

Mira's expression hardened. "And you want to hit them."

Valka grinned. "Exactly."

Dante leaned in. "It's not just a raid. We need intel. Find out what they're moving, who they're protecting, and why."

Mira frowned. "I don't do recon."

Valka tapped the table. "You do now."

Mira hesitated. Something about this didn't sit right. Why was the Consortium moving forces out here?

Still, she needed work. And more than that—she needed purpose.

She exhaled. "Fine. I'm in."

As she prepped for the mission, Mira couldn't help but wonder—was this really the path she wanted?

Or was she just running from something?