Ada and Vega stood in the aftermath of the battle, their breaths shallow and quick.
Their bodies were coated in the grime of the skirmish, sweat mixing with the dust and blood from the fallen soldiers.
The air felt heavy, thick with the tension of the moment, and though they had emerged victorious, something gnawed at Ada's gut—a sense of impending doom that refused to dissipate.
Vega adjusted the strap on her shoulder, the faintest of winces crossing her face.
The battle had taken its toll on them both, but it wasn't just the physical exhaustion that weighed on her mind.
The leader of the soldiers hadn't fallen, and his parting words had left a mark. "Unfinished business," he had said, and those words haunted Vega more than the danger they had just faced.
Ada, ever the pragmatist, wiped the blade clean of blood before sheathing it with a fluid motion. She looked to Vega, her gaze sharp, focused, yet there was an undercurrent of concern in her expression.
"Are you alright?" Ada asked, her voice steady but soft, the concern she usually kept hidden slipping into her tone.
Vega didn't look at her immediately. Instead, she scanned the room, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed their surroundings. "I'm fine," she replied, her voice clipped.
But Ada could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the flicker of doubt that danced across her face as she shifted her weight.
There was more to Vega's words than she let on, but Ada didn't push.
Not yet. Instead, she turned her focus back to the room—now eerily quiet, save for the distant hum of the compound's failing generators.
The soldiers were gone, but their presence lingered in the air like a bad taste in the mouth, and Ada knew the worst was far from over.
"Do you think they'll come after us again?" Vega finally asked, breaking the silence.
Her voice had softened, and her eyes met Ada's, though they were clouded with something unsaid.
Ada didn't hesitate. "They'll come," she said, her voice calm, like it was a fact she had already accepted. "We've made ourselves a target, and as much as they despise us, we're too useful to let go. We'll need to keep moving. And we'll need to stay ahead of them."
Vega gave a small, knowing nod, her lips pressing into a thin line. "We're always running, aren't we?" she murmured, almost to herself.
She wasn't looking at Ada anymore; her gaze had shifted to the cracked wall, eyes searching for something in the broken concrete that wasn't there.
Ada took a step closer to her, her boots making a soft echo against the cold floor. "It's not running," she said softly, her voice low but firm. "It's surviving. And that's what we're good at."
The weight of her words hung in the air between them, a shared understanding that neither needed to verbalize.
Survival was all they had, and as long as they had each other, it was enough.
For now.
The silence that followed felt more oppressive than the battle had been.
Ada felt the familiar pull of doubt creeping into her thoughts, but she pushed it away.
There were no guarantees in this world, but one thing was certain—Vega was right about one thing.
They were always running. Always staying one step ahead of the danger, always looking over their shoulders.
Suddenly, the stillness was broken by the sudden blare of an alarm, its shrill cry cutting through the silence like a knife.
Ada's muscles tensed, and she turned toward the source of the noise, her senses instantly on high alert.
Vega reached for her crossbow without a word, her movements quick and efficient.
"It's coming from the north sector," Ada said, already moving toward the door.
Her voice was calm, but the urgency in her movements was undeniable.
Vega was right behind her, not a word spoken as they hurried through the narrow corridors of the compound.
The sound of their boots echoed against the metal floors as they navigated through the dimly lit halls, the alarm still blaring in the distance.
"We need to check it out," Ada said, her voice low but urgent. "If it's another group of soldiers, we won't be able to handle it alone."
Vega nodded, her face hardening with determination. "We'll find a way."
They reached the entrance to the north sector, their footsteps faltering for only a moment before they pushed through the door.
The space beyond was dark, shrouded in shadow, but the faint flicker of lights from the malfunctioning generators cast an eerie glow over the room.
As they moved deeper into the sector, Ada's eyes darted to the walls, scanning for any signs of movement.
The tension was unbearable, each footstep a potential threat.
She could feel the weight of Vega's presence behind her, the woman's silent support like a second skin.
Then, they saw it.
A group of people—five, maybe six—stood at the far end of the room.
They were clustered around something, their attention focused entirely on it. Ada's heart skipped a beat.
There was something about their posture that was all wrong—too rigid, too still.
"They're not soldiers," Vega whispered, her voice barely audible.
"No," Ada replied, her tone flat, cold. "They're scavengers. But they're not alone."
Before either of them could react, a figure emerged from the shadows.
A woman, tall and imposing, her face obscured by a dark hood.
She moved with the fluidity of someone who had spent years in combat, her presence radiating a dangerous, unpredictable energy.
She stopped in front of the scavengers, her eyes gleaming with cold determination.
"Who are you?" Ada demanded, her hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of her blade.
The woman's lips curled into a smile, but there was no warmth in it—only malice. "I'm the one who's been looking for you."
Ada felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. It was a trap.