"We're going to need transportation to Bloodmere. Who do you know, team?" Alex asked, his tone serious.
Miller stepped forward, a hint of confidence in his tone. "I know someone who owes me a favor. He can get us close to Bloodmere, sir."
"Good. Now, what equipment do we have?" Alex prompted, quickly shifting focus.
Miller continued, "We've got five M16s with six magazines, ten Mk2 grenades, and our sidearms, but we'll need some plastic explosives for breaching."
Piper nodded. "I can get some, but I'll need to divert to Sanitary Clifton. There's a merc who sells on the black market. I can grab us some RPGs or higher-caliber weapons."
Daniel added, "I can get us a ride in Bloodmere. My grandfather lives in that region, and I've got some money to buy what we need for this extraction."
Arthur interjected, "We can't be spending too much on this mission, or we'll be compromised."
Alex fixed them with a serious gaze. "This will be a three-day job—hopefully two. Piper, ask the dealer for the explosives. Miller, get us that flight. Daniel, start asking your grandfather about the vehicle. I'm giving you guys a day to pull this together. The faster we get what we need, the faster we can save Hawthorne and end this impending war."
Arthur nodded. "We will regroup here in this factory in one day. If we're not all back by then, we leave with or without you."
With that, Arthur saluted, and the team dispersed, each heading off on their respective paths.
"Alright, we need a solid plan to get Hawthorne out and leave as soon as we hit the campus. They're going to know we don't belong," Arthur stated, his voice steady and serious.
"Yeah, I know the campus is about six acres of land. We need to move with urgency," I replied, feeling the pressure of time weighing on us. "I'm not entirely sure what the move is yet. Let's go for a change of scenery."
We climbed into the Plymouth P6 and drove to a local diner, a place that seemed safe and familiar amidst the chaos.
"Hello, gentlemen! You can sit wherever you like," a young woman with blonde hair greeted us cheerfully.
As we settled into a booth, she returned with two steaming cups of coffee. "Now, what can I get you, gentlemen?"
"I'll have rice and grains," I said, my tone serious as my mind stayed focused on the mission.
"I'll have the stew," Arthur replied, his demeanor more relaxed.
"Great! I'll get that out for you," the waitress said, her enthusiasm brightening the dull mood surrounding us.
Once she left, I leaned in with a low tone, wanting to keep our conversation private. "Hey, you know what could make us a lot of money?"
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Ahh, the entertainment industry? I've heard that's lucrative."
"No, hear me out. We could make a compartment that keeps food cool for hot summer days—it could preserve freshness longer," I whispered, the idea sparking a flicker of hope.
"That's actually a good idea," Alex responded, excitement creeping into his voice. "We'd need to develop it right."
"Yeah, but that's for another time," I said, letting a little joy seep into my tone. "We need to focus on saving Hawthorne first."
The waitress returned with our food, setting the plate and bowl in front of us. "Here you go! Enjoy!"
After we finished our meal, Arthur and I left a generous tip of ten dollars as I slid the cash onto the table.
"Why'd you leave that much?" he asked, surprised.
"Because we will make more in the future. Trust me on my ideas," I replied with a mix of hope and confidence. "Maybe, just maybe, we won't need to fight anymore one day."
"I'll be by your side till that day," Arthur said cheerfully, his optimism grounding me for a moment.
In that fleeting moment, the memory surged unbidden—a horrific vision filled with hatred and the bloodlust of war. I saw eyes staring deep into my soul, an unyielding fire that turned Arthur's familiar face into a mask of chaos. It was a glimpse of a collapsing society, smoke and flames engulfing everything, a world spiraling into an almost apocalyptic reality.
"Alex!" Arthur's voice broke through my reverie just in time. He pulled me back from the edge of the curb, a car whizzing by, horn blaring. The sound jolted me into the present.
"Are you okay?" he asked, concern etching his features. "It's not like you to space out like that."
I shook my head, trying to dispel the haunting images. "I'm alright. Just thinking about how to save Hawthorne, that's all," I replied, forcing a steadiness into my voice.
"Um, alright then," Arthur said, still scrutinizing me with a worried expression. "Just be careful next time. We still need you."
His words hung in the air, a reminder of the mission that loomed ahead of us. It felt good to have someone who cared, and I appreciated his vigilance. I took a deep breath, grounding myself in the moment, focusing on our objective.
"Let's keep moving," I said, shaking off the last remnants of that unsettling memory. "We've got a lot to prepare for, and I need to keep my head clear. We can't afford distractions."
Together, we walked briskly, the streets humbling yet familiar, each footstep a reminder of the urgency clinging to our mission. We were on borrowed time, and my resolve sharpened like a blade ready for action.
"Besides," I added, attempting to lighten the mood as we headed toward our next destination, "I've got a plan and visions of a future where we won't have to fight every time just to survive. We're going to save Hawthorne and maybe change things for the better."
Arthur smiled, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I like the sound of that. Let's get this done."
With renewed focus, we pressed on, determined to see our plan through and bring our friend back from the clutches of danger.
As we walked through the streets, a kid came dashing past us, sprinting with determination. He clutched a brown bag tightly, as if it were the most precious thing in the world. "Stop! Thief! That kid stole some food and medicine!" a voice shouted from behind, belonging to a frazzled-looking intern from a local pharmaceutical company, desperately trying to keep up.
"Are you going to help him?" Arthur asked, glancing back at the scene unfolding.
"Nah," I replied, my voice steady but tinged with regret. "Remember, we were like that once upon a time."
The memory flooded back unbidden: the orphanage where I spent my childhood. I recalled the long hours I worked, scrubbing chimneys covered in soot and grime, the sharp smell of creosote lingering in my nostrils. There was bitterness mingled with sadness, especially because one of my sisters was gravely ill. Desperate to help her, I had once stolen medicine from the nearby pharmacy, along with a loaf of bread. The weight of shame hung over me, a reminder of how far I'd fallen to survive.
"Let's go," I finally said, snapping back to the present moment. "Some of the others might be back soon."
Arthur nodded, though I could see the concern in his eyes, recognizing the conflict within me. "You sure? It didn't seem right to just let him run."
I shrugged, feeling the weight of my decision. "Sometimes, you have to choose your battles, Arthur. We can't save everyone, especially not right now. We have a mission to focus on—and Hawthorne is our priority."
As we turned to continue down the street, the cries of the intern faded behind us, replaced by the hum of city life. I couldn't shake the lingering feeling of sorrow for the boy. He was a reflection of a past I'd worked so hard to escape, yet here I was, still grappling with the reality that not everyone could be saved.
However, I knew our path lay ahead, and every step brought us closer to our goal.
"Let's meet up with the others," I said, trying to shake off the weight of my thoughts. "We've got work to do."
With that, we steered our focus back to the mission, knowing that while we couldn't save everyone, we had a chance to make a difference where it truly mattered.
Climbing back into the Plymouth P6, we set off toward the safe house. The air was thick with unspoken words and lingering tension. As we merged onto the freeway, the hum of the engine provided a momentary escape from the chaos that had enveloped us.
Suddenly, brakes screeched, and a commotion erupted in front of us. A Ford truck careened down the road, evading police cars in hot pursuit, halting traffic as chaos unfolded around us.
"There goes another robbery for—" Arthur began, but I cut him off.
"No, it's not that," I interjected, squinting through the windshield. "They're stealing food. There's a shortage with the looming tension of war. Have you noticed the massive military production and the increase in vehicles and personnel?"
Arthur paused, a look of realization dawning on his face. "Yeah, now that you mention it, I was too busy with the previous mission to really think about it," he admitted, his tone shifting to one of concern.
"You can't just follow orders blindly," I said, my voice firm yet soft. "You need to understand what and why we're fighting for."
"Wow, that's rich coming from the 'reaper' himself," Arthur replied with a hint of sarcasm.
"I still have a heart, you know. I just don't like showing it," I countered, trying to lighten the mood. "It makes you look soft as the commander of our group."
Arthur raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And I'm starting to lose faith in our government," I added, my expression turning serious.
"Are you talking about the shitshow we survived at the docks?" he questioned, his tone skeptical. "I don't understand how that connects to all this. How does it link up with the government?"
I met his gaze steadily. "Power. With more power, they won't need to worry about outside threats targeting their social structure and rigid election system."
Arthur's expression shifted in surprise as he considered my words. "Damn, that's some deep thinking."
I looked out the window, the scenery blurring past as I pondered the implications of our conversation. "This isn't just about us anymore. It's about the people out there—those kids, those families. They're suffering because of the decisions made above us."
Arthur nodded, digesting the weight of my thoughts. "So, what do we do then? How can we fight back if we can't even trust the ones giving us commands?"
"We draw the line here," I replied, determination solidifying in my chest. "We fight for Hawthorne, for our brothers, and for anyone who can't fight for themselves. But we also stay vigilant. If there's corruption at the top, we expose it. We can't let this spiral into something worse."
"Agreed," Arthur said, a newfound resolve lighting his eyes. "Then let's finish this mission, save Hawthorne, and start figuring out what needs to change."
The police continued to engage the truck ahead, but our focus remained firm as we maneuvered through the now-standstill traffic. In that moment, we understood that the fight ahead would be.
After arriving at the safe house, the atmosphere was thick with focus and urgency. Just two minutes after us, Miller and Daniel pulled up, sliding into the dimly lit space where we were gathered to draft our plans.
"Alright, did you guys take care of your business for the mission ahead?" I asked, taking a quick inventory of the team.
"Yes, sir!" they responded in unison, their tones a blend of confidence and determination.
"Good," I continued, gesturing for everyone to settle down and listen closely. "Here's what we've got: We'll perform full sweeps—leave no stone unturned. There might be underground passageways for supplies or reinforcements."
I paused for a moment to collect my thoughts. "I'm going to cave in to separate us from them. As soon as I do that, it's going to trigger alarms for intruders. We might get a minute or two if we're lucky—maybe even three. I'm feeling lucky based on what Corporal Herold was saying before. The place covers around four acres of land, but don't be surprised if it's more than what our intelligence gathered. There will be an army, and well-trained men at that. This terrain is forested, so we'll need to dress appropriately for the action."
I leaned forward, scanning the faces around the table. "Any questions or backup plans?"
Piper spoke up first. "Are we going in quietly or loud? If it's loud, I can get us a helicopter with flares, RPGs, and plastic explosives."
Daniel's voice cut through the tension as he chimed in, "I can get the money. How much is our limit?"
"Let's aim for around four to six thousand dollars," I replied. "We'll gather the cash by pitching in together. I have one thousand and five dollars," I noted, glancing at the others.
"I have five hundred, and I can grab some more back home," Miller added confidently.
"I can contribute one hundred and fifty," Daniel offered.
"Two hundred from me," Piper said, joining the conversation.
"Alright, we can make do with this," I stated, calculating in my head. "Miller, just aim to get us close to three thousand if possible. I will pay you back after this is over."
"Yes, sir," Miller said firmly, though I saw the reluctance in his eyes. "But you don't need to, sir."
"It's going to be on my mind if I don't pay you back," I insisted, my tone serious and resolute.
"Roger that, sir," Miller acknowledged, nodding.
I turned to Piper. "And save your money. You still need to get us that flight."
"You don't need to worry about that, sir," Piper replied with a slight smile. "I've got it—it's in the Wendel airport filed and ready to go."
"Alright, if you need anything before we leave, I suggest you take care of it first," I said, gauging the urgency in the room. "We might not come back if I'm honest."
The gravity of my words hung heavy in the air, but I could see determination in each of their eyes. This was a pivotal moment, and we were all in this together.
"Let's focus on what we need to do to prepare. We've got a mission ahead of us, and we can't afford any missteps," I added, trying to instill confidence.
"Agreed. We'll make this work," Miller said, resolute.
"Then let's get moving," I urged, standing up and signaling the end of our planning session. "We don't have much time."
As we all began to gather our gear, the weight of what lay ahead loomed over us, but we were ready to face it head-on. The fight for Hawthorne—and for something greater than ourselves—was just on the horizon.