Ch 88: Following the Trail

The vast, open wasteland stretched before Kael as his crawler rumbled across the uneven terrain. The reinforced treads crushed cracked pavement and loose dirt under its weight, the occasional gust of wind kicking up dust clouds in its wake.

Mira had left a trail—not a clear one, not a deliberate one, but enough for someone like Kael to follow. Tracks of old convoys, encrypted signals, and scattered rumors among outpost scavengers painted a picture of her journey.

She was heading east, beyond the reaches of the Blanks and Gron, toward Baku.

But she wasn't the only one moving in that direction.

Kael didn't rush. The key to tracking was patience.

Each stop in a lawless settlement, each overheard conversation at an outpost, each sign of movement in the wasteland—it all added to the bigger picture.

"A group came through here a few days ago."

"Well-armed, moving fast. Had a merc with them—tough one."

"Didn't stop for long. No questions, no dealings."

Mira wasn't just traveling. She was being careful.

But caution wasn't enough. Somewhere along the way, trouble had found her.

Kael leaned back in his seat, letting the crawler's autopilot guide them over a relatively smooth stretch of road as he turned his focus inward.

He had spent the past few days working.

Inside the vehicle's reinforced interior, his workspace was cluttered with half-finished modifications and new tools. Small pieces of machinery lay scattered over a metal workbench, the scent of hot metal lingering in the air.

A collection of blueprints—some hastily sketched on old paper, others glowing on his solver's screen—detailed the upgrades he had been making.

He wasn't just following the trail.

He was preparing.

A Battlefield Left Behind

Hours passed before Kael came across the first major sign of trouble.

It wasn't a random skirmish or a bandit attack. This was an ambush.

Burned-out vehicles sat in the middle of the cracked highway, their twisted metal frames still smoldering. Blackened craters and scattered debris painted a clear picture—someone had tried to wipe out the convoy.

Kael slowed the crawler to a stop, stepping out onto the cracked asphalt. The air smelled of burned fuel and scorched rubber, mixed with something metallic—blood.

There were no bodies, but the bullet holes and impact marks told the story.

The convoy was hit hard.

Survivors tried to flee. Some succeeded. Some didn't.

Kael crouched near one of the wrecks, running his fingers over the torn metal. A precise hit. Not the work of raiders.

Someone had planned this attack.

And that meant someone had known the convoy was coming.

That raised an important question.

Who sold them out?

Tracking the Survivors

Kael pulled out his scanner, adjusting the settings as it pulsed in the dim evening light.

The ground told a story—heavy boot prints, drag marks, scattered shell casings.

Two main trails led away from the wreckage.

One was erratic, suggesting survivors who had managed to escape in a hurry. The other was more deliberate—organized movement, people being led somewhere.

Kael made his decision.

He followed the second trail.

Hours passed as Kael navigated through the ruins of an old world town. Crumbling buildings, rusted-out cars, remnants of a place that had long been abandoned.

That's where he spotted them.

A group of mercenaries had taken shelter in the ruins. Their makeshift camp was surrounded by debris, old barricades from a long-forgotten battle repurposed into defenses.

They weren't just resting.

They had prisoners.

Through his scope, Kael counted their numbers—a dozen men, maybe more. Well-equipped, not bandits, professionals.

And among the captives, Mira.

His grip on the scope tightened. She was alive, bound, but watching. Studying her captors with sharp eyes, waiting for an opportunity.

She hadn't given up.

Good. That means she'll be ready when I move.

Kael's mind shifted gears. He had no intention of negotiating.

The mercenaries were comfortable. They had set up camp. They weren't expecting a direct assault.

That's a mistake.

Kael returned to his crawler, checking over his gear.

Weapons loaded, ammunition counted. Armor adjustments in place. Special systems armed.

He tapped a sequence into his solver, bringing up the modified controls for his crawler.

It had been a while since he tested the new payload.

No better time than now.

Kael took a deep breath, adjusting his mask.

Then, he pressed the first button.

Inside the encampment, a siren began blaring.

The mercenaries turned, startled. Some grabbed their weapons. Others scrambled to check their surroundings.

Then came the gas.

Thick clouds of yellow-green vapor hissed from the edges of the ruins, pouring into the camp before the first mercenary could even shout a warning.

Panic set in.

"What the hell is that?!"

"Gas! Cover your—!"

"Shit, shit, shit—"

Kael didn't wait.

He pressed the second button.

The crawler roared to life, launching a small explosive straight into the barricades. The explosion sent debris flying, throwing mercenaries off their feet.

And then, Kael moved.

Gunfire erupted as the mercenaries tried to react, but Kael was already among them.

His first shot took out the closest guard—a single bullet to the throat. The second dropped another before he could even turn.

By the time the third raised his rifle, Kael was already on him.

A knife across the gut, a shot to the head.

The camp descended into chaos.

Mira saw her opening. Even with her hands bound, she lashed out, kicking the legs out from under a distracted guard and knocking him into the dirt. In the confusion, she was already moving.

Kael tossed her a blade as he took cover behind a wrecked vehicle.

"Took you long enough."

Kael smirked, lining up another shot.

"Next time, don't get caught."

Minutes later, it was over. The surviving mercenaries lay motionless. Smoke drifted through the ruins.

Kael and Mira stood among the wreckage, catching their breath.

She wiped blood from her face, glancing at him.

"You tracking me?"

"Following your mess."

Mira shook her head. "Figures."

Kael turned to the bodies, searching for anything useful. Among the remains, he found documents, encrypted logs—clues.

They weren't just mercenaries. They had been hired.

By someone who wanted Mira out of the way.

Kael's gaze met hers.

"Who the hell did you piss off?"

Mira exhaled, glancing toward the distant horizon.

"Only one way to find out."