The base was quiet in the early morning, a stillness settling over the hangar and surrounding buildings as the crew took advantage of their forced downtime. The damage from the last mission had left the mechs in various states of disrepair, and the usual hum of activity had been replaced by an uneasy calm. For Marcus Black, sleep had been elusive. The weight of his words from the previous night pressed on him as heavily as the failure of the mission itself.
The air was cool as Marcus made his way out of the barracks, the first light of dawn just beginning to touch the sky. He didn’t bother with breakfast, didn’t bother with much of anything except getting out. He needed space, and the hills surrounding the base offered that in abundance.
His footsteps crunched on the gravel path as he climbed higher, the lights of the base growing dim behind him. The climb was steep in places, but Marcus barely noticed, his mind churning with unresolved thoughts. The higher he went, the quieter the world seemed to become, until all he could hear was his own breathing and the distant rustle of wind through the sparse trees.
Finally, he reached a small clearing overlooking the valley. The base was a distant cluster of buildings now, the mechs nothing more than tiny shapes barely discernible in the dawn light. Marcus stood there for a moment, letting the cool breeze wash over him, hoping it might carry away some of the anger and frustration still gnawing at him.
He found a flat rock and sat down, elbows on his knees, staring out over the valley. His mind replayed the events of the previous day, the confrontation in the hangar, the bitter words he’d thrown at Graham.
“The old man has lost his touch. Maybe it’s time someone else lead.”
The memory of those words made his jaw clench. He’d meant them in the heat of the moment, but now, with the adrenaline gone, all he felt was regret. Graham was more than just a commander; he was a father figure to most of them. But that didn’t mean he was above mistakes, and yesterday had been a glaring one.
Marcus stood and began walking along the ridge that bordered the valley. The base was nestled between two rivers: the Drodh to the east and the Bulbrol to the west. Both rivers had carved deep grooves into the landscape, creating natural barriers that protected the base from casual discovery. As he walked, Marcus could hear the faint rush of the Drodh River below, its waters swollen from recent rains.
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To the north, sheer cliffs rose sharply, a natural wall that had been a key factor in choosing this location for the base. The cliffs were a favorite spot for the more adventurous members of the crew, who would sometimes challenge each other to scale the rock faces when they weren’t on mission. The view from the top was said to be breathtaking, but Marcus had never tried the climb himself. He preferred the quiet solitude of the hills and forests to the adrenaline-fueled challenges of the cliffs.
As he continued his walk, Marcus skirted the edge of Feykro, the dense forest that stretched along the middle of the region. The forest was thick with ancient trees, their branches intertwining to form a nearly impenetrable canopy. Feykro had a reputation for being both beautiful and dangerous. It was easy to get lost among the towering trunks and tangled undergrowth, and there were stories—some true, some not—of people disappearing in its depths. But Marcus knew the paths through Feykro better than most. He and Troy had spent countless hours exploring the forest’s hidden trails and secret clearings. There was one spot in particular—a small glade where the trees parted just enough to let in the sunlight—that Marcus often visited when he needed to think. He considered heading there now but decided against it. The base needed him, and he couldn’t afford to disappear for too long.
He continued his circuit around the base, passing the training grounds where the crew would run drills when they weren’t on mission. The grounds were empty now, the targets and barricades standing silent and unused. Beyond the training area was a small, secluded lake, its waters dark and still. The lake was fed by an underground spring and was a well-kept secret among the crew. Marcus had stumbled upon it by accident during one of his first scouting missions in the area. Since then, it had become a place of quiet reflection for him, and occasionally, for Troy as well. They never discussed it, but they both knew the other visited the lake from time to time, each respecting the other’s need for solitude.
The path Marcus followed eventually looped back toward the base, passing a cluster of abandoned buildings that had once served as a research station. The structures were weathered and overgrown, their original purpose lost to time. The crew had scavenged what they could from the site, but it still held an eerie fascination, a reminder of the base’s forgotten history. Marcus sometimes wondered what had happened to the people who had lived and worked there, their presence long since erased by the elements.
Finally, Marcus found himself back at the base’s perimeter, the lights of the hangar and barracks just beginning to brighten with the start of a new day. He paused at the edge of the compound, the weight of the coming day pressing down on him. There was work to be done, mechs to repair, and bridges to mend. He wasn’t sure how it would go, but he knew one thing for certain—he couldn’t keep running from the fallout of his own actions.
He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and walked back into the hangar, ready to face whatever came next.