The cafeteria was louder than usual, trays clattering, voices overlapping, steam rising from hot meals. Brock had already started eating, clearly pleased, while Cira picked at her food with a thoughtful look.
"This is actually good," Brock said around a mouthful. "I was expecting the usual nutrient paste pretending to be stew."
Lorne snorted, leaning back in his chair. "You complain every time, and every time you still eat like you're afraid it'll run away."
Brock pointed his utensil at him. "That's survival instinct."
Cira smiled faintly, then grew more serious. "So. What now?"
Brock slowed, considering. "We could push the missing man angle. It's thin, but it's the only thread that hasn't snapped yet."
Lorne shrugged, entirely at ease. "Or we keep taking missions. Suspicious activity pays better, and sooner or later something will overlap. It always does."
"And if it doesn't?" Cira asked.
"Then at least we're fed," Lorne replied lightly, tapping his tray. "And not chasing ghosts on empty stomachs."
Brock exhaled through his nose, half amused. "You really don't feel the pressure, do you?"
"Oh, I do," Lorne said, grinning. "I just refuse to let it ruin lunch."
Cira looked between them, then nodded slowly. "We don't rush. We keep working. If the missing man connects, we'll see it."
Brock nodded once. "Agreed."
Lorne raised his cup slightly. "Good. Then we're settled. Eat before Brock finishes everything."
With their trays cleared and the last of the warmth from the morning meal fading, Brock, Lorne, and Cira leaned back in their chairs, eyes drifting toward the hub's activity but minds firmly on what came next.
Brock broke the silence first, voice low but thoughtful. "So, do we chase the missing man immediately, or do we keep taking smaller missions? Investigate other suspicious activities, gather intel, and maybe strengthen our position first?"
Lorne shrugged, a casual grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Depends. If we go straight for the missing person, we might walk right into something bigger than we're ready for. On the other hand, small missions let us test the waters, get info, and stay alive long enough to make a real move."
Cira tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly. "I'll take rend missions for XP while you two handle the investigations. That way, we all progress without stepping on each other's toes. But…" she paused, voice thoughtful, "when we're ready to pursue the missing man, we need to know it's not a trap. That's the only way we don't get caught off guard."
Brock nodded, resting his chin on his hand. "Agreed. We'll focus on these smaller missions for now—track down missing people, investigate shelters, unusual activity. Once we gather more intel, we decide on the bigger move."
Lorne leaned back, crossing his arms. "Sounds reasonable. We won't rush. But… when we do move, we move smart. No running in blind."
Cira gave a small, satisfied nod. "Exactly. Preparation first. Action second."
The three of them shared a quiet moment, letting their decision settle. For now, their next steps were clear: Brock and Lorne would take on investigative missions into the disappearances, while Cira would continue rend missions to build experience. The missing man would remain on their minds, but it was a thread to follow only when they were ready.
---
Brock and Lorne didn't waste time after settling on their plan.
They pooled their remaining credits and headed straight for the hub's equipment quarter—not the flashy front counters, but the deeper stalls that catered to Awakeners who expected things to go wrong. Brock handled the negotiations, calm and precise, trimming costs where he could. Lorne hovered nearby, casually inspecting gear while quietly assessing what would actually keep them alive
The walls lined with racks of weapons, stealth gadgets, and recon devices. Their recent mission rewards and remaining credits made it possible to finally upgrade their gear for the challenges ahead.
Brock's eyes scanned the assortment of firearms first, his hands brushing over rifles with custom scopes and handguns with reinforced grips. "I'm thinking something reliable," he muttered, reaching for a compact pulse rifle and a set of recon drones. "If we're going to track missing people or investigate suspicious activity, I don't want to be caught off guard." He added a few stealth devices into his cart, checking each one meticulously.
Lorne, on the other hand, moved with casual precision. He picked up a pair of lightweight pistols, holsters that would allow him to move quickly, and a small set of recon sensors designed to detect movement in tight spaces. "Nothing fancy," he said with a shrug, though his sharp eyes flicked over the equipment as if memorizing its every feature. "Just enough to keep us alive without getting weighed down."
Cira lingered by a display of ammunition and first-aid kits, her hands hovering over a few items before selecting compact medical packs and energy rations. "I'm taking the Rend missions anyway," she said quietly, eyes narrowing slightly. "So I need to make sure I can last out there longer." She added a small energy shield generator to her pack, the device meant to absorb minor attacks—an extra precaution.
Once their selections were made, the trio moved toward the prep room. There, they laid out their gear, checked weapons, and ran through the mechanics one last time. Lorne twirled his pistols experimentally, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Well, looks like we're ready to make some trouble… or survive it," he said, earning a small laugh from Brock and a shake of the head from Cira.
With everything packed and secured, they took a moment to review the objectives in their heads. Brock's next mission involved investigating a series of missing people in the outskirts of Greyhaven—no Akenten involvement confirmed yet, just reports of strange disappearances. Lorne's mission was more tactical: to surveil a small town rumored to have hidden Akenten sympathizers and gather actionable intelligence. Cira, meanwhile, would venture into Rend territory, honing her skills while completing her objective.
The trio exchanged a final glance, a silent acknowledgment that this was the path they had chosen. With gear in hand and objectives clear, they stepped out of the hub's main hall, the winter sun low in the sky, casting long shadows across the courtyard. Each of them knew the challenges ahead would test not only their skill but also their instincts and cooperation. The missions weren't just about survival—they were about gathering the threads of a larger mystery, one that had begun with the disappearance of a friend and had only grown more complicated since.
Prepared, armed, and focused, Brock, Lorne, and Cira moved toward the transport area, ready to deploy on their separate missions.
...
The forest edge showed signs of recent passage long before they reached the clearing.
Five figures moved between the trees with practiced ease, spreading out just enough to cover ground without losing sight of one another. At their center walked the cloaked man, his steps careful, his attention fixed on the terrain rather than the canopy above.
"They passed through here," one of the trackers said calmly. He knelt, brushing aside leaves to reveal compressed soil. "Three individuals. One heavier stride, one lighter, one uneven—likely injured or fatigued at the time."
Another voice came from farther ahead. "Broken branches at shoulder height. They weren't sneaking. Probably running or moving fast."
The cloaked man stopped. "Timeline?"
"Less than two days," the tracker replied. "No rain since. Tracks are degrading naturally, not weather-washed."
A third member joined them, holding up a small scanner. "Residual energy signatures are gone. Whatever they were doing here is finished. They didn't linger."
"So they didn't enter again," the cloaked man understood
Another Akenten scanned the area, eyes following the direction of broken undergrowth.
The cloaked man remained silent, listening.
"They didn't linger," a third operative added. "No signs of scouting or surveying. They passed through with purpose."
"That matches the previous sectors," the first said, standing. "Their movement pattern is consistent. They enter, gather something, then leave. No random detours."
The cloaked man finally spoke. His voice was calm, almost indifferent.
"Explain it again."
An Akenten operative pulled up a projection, displaying a rough overlay of regions.
"They aren't mapping sectors themselves. They're following something already given to them. But their path isn't arbitrary." He pointed at the highlighted trail.
"They move as if confirming locations—checking sectors against a reference."
"Which means," another added, "the information they possess isn't a place. It's a coordinate."
Silence followed.
The cloaked man nodded once.
"So the memory wasn't a destination. It was a key."
"Yes," the operative said. "And by tracking them, we're seeing how the key is meant to be used."
The cloaked man looked toward the edge of the forest, in the direction the tracks vanished.
"They've left Sector Eleven," he said.
"Correct. Based on trajectory and previous behavior, their next stop can only be one place."
"Sector Nineteen," the cloaked man said flatly.
No one corrected him.
"They don't know we're following," an operative said.
"They don't need to," the cloaked man replied. "They're doing exactly what we want."
He turned away from the forest.
"Maintain distance. Don't interfere. Let them lead us to the answer."
The Akenten moved out shortly after, their presence fading as completely as they had arrived. Behind them, the forest returned to stillness—empty, quiet, and already irrelevant.
Maya and her companions were gone.
But their path was no longer theirs alone.