I stimulated my SMB, switching my vision to X-Ray Vision. My eyes beamed through the camouflage sheet and saw eight trucks pummeling through the distance around eight hundred meters away, heading in our general direction. Fuck, “TRUCKS HEADING OUR WAY!” I snapped.

Stryme fished into his pocket, whilst I ran for the Ar& Assault Rifle. The light from within the Camouflage tent went dead and a low buzzing sound spooled alive. I clipped the magazine into the Assault Rifle and darted outside.

“WAIT!” Stryme snapped. “The camouflage sheet is active. They won’t see us, there’s no need for you to head outside and give away our position!”

“How do you know they haven’t seen us?”

“They would’ve littered us with bullets if they did.”

My lips curled into a bitter smile, as experienced as I was, I should’ve known better. “You’re right,” I admitted.

“Let’s just watch them pass and keep ourselves quiet, we’re soon within reach of Sceleratus, we’re already behind schedule.”

“Right.”

I pressed myself up against the Water Tank, whilst Stryme did the same with the crates. It was much covered, but it was better than none.

The camouflage sheet began to flap above us, as the wind swept across the area we’d commandeered next to a shattered brute. My heart sped up, as I stared in the direction in which the trucks were coming from.

I nodded to Stryme, who nestled himself between two crates. His Assault Rifle was fixed in the same direction as mine. This wasn’t an ideal spot to be in, as we were in the open, but undercover.

The shattered buttes may have been enough to protect us, but what if the trucks decided to take up cover in this very spot?

One could only know.

Fuck it I thought. I switched the safety off from my Assault Rifle, placing It next to me. I stimulated my SMB to switch snap my wrist free and sent my Cybernetic wrist free, sending it outside. “What are you doing Cypher!?” Stryme huffed.

“Surveying.”

My arm zipped through the small opening within the camouflage sheet. It rose in the air, showing the five shattered boulders which previously were part of a butte make.

The splintered boulders were of various sizes and could’ve been used for cover. Beyond those, was sand, with patches of dry grass, based on the shimmering light of my night vision.

I sent my wrist left, watching as waves of sand puff in the short distance. The trucks were further than I anticipated. The HUD of the camera fed into my Cybernetic eye, showing the distance of the first truck roughly fifteen hundred meters. “Eight trucks confirmed, fifteen hundred meters from us,” I said.

“We don’t have enough ammo for another show-down Cypher.”

“The thought didn’t cross my mind,” I said, lying through my teeth. “What are we to do if they stop close to us?”

“Leave ‘em to fuck alone.”

“I digress. “I said.

“We don’t need any problems Cypher, we’re close enough as is to Sceleratus.”

“Stop making me sound like a murderhobo. If we didn’t kill those pieces of shit in the creek, we would’ve died of starvation, so stop bitching.”

“I’m not bitching!”

I snapped my head left, puffing my cheeks in annoyance. Stryme stared back at me, defiantly, and I just couldn’t understand why the bastard was just being a hardass for no reason. “Then act like a professional,” I added.

“The same goes for you!”

I ground my teeth, ignoring the jab, and rolled my neck as I closed them. I refocused my attention on my HUD, watching the trucks growl their way across the surface.

My cybernetic wrist had a small microphone, not enough for me to hear as good as I would’ve liked, but it was good enough for me to hear the roaring engines making their way towards us. “They’re heading in our direction.”

Stryme knelt in position trying to hold his breath as he did so. I on the other hand continued my survey of the oncoming trucks that were roving through the desert making their way toward us.

The trucks came into proper view, which allowed me to get a better gist of how armoured their trucks were. They were light-armoured and moved swiftly through the sand.

The trucks roved passed us, ground shaking and sheets flapping from the momentum in which they blew right past us. I was thankful for that in the least.

The direction they were headed to was north I noted, watching as they swerved down a few gentle slopes whilst climbing some steep inclines in the process. It wasn’t as fast as I would’ve hoped, but it was damn well satisfying to see. “Clear,” I said, once I was satisfied with their distance.

“UGH!” Stryme complained, “About time something went right!”

I laughed shaking my, Stryme’s right, I thought ruefully, something went right, finally. A fight in the ravine, crashing the truck, and a sandstorm to boot. The Carib Waste was complete shit and everyone knew it.

I recalled my wrist from the skies, feeling my SMB clutching my brain like a vice grip from the strain. and dropped to the ground. Then, I simulated my SMB into providing me with a diagnostic check.

Stancer Cybernetic Eye V3.8 Functioning at 93% Capacity

Aldur Cybernetic Arm V9.8 Functioning at 91% Capacity

Slethe Nanite Synchronization Functioning at 32% Capacity - Warning Slethe Shot Needed - Expected Lag due to low Slethe.

The SMB clutched my brain, sending a sharp tingle down my spine that my body quivered. I dropped to the ground with a thud, that drew Stryme’s attention. He looked at me confused, face shocked by the sight. He jumped up and ran towards me and began shaking me as I closed my eyes. “CYPHER! WHAT’S WRONG?” He shouted.

“Low on slethe,” I whispered, “Jab one of the slethe shots in my elbow.”

I don’t know what happened next, but my body closed down, forcing me to fall asleep. It felt as though my body weakened whilst it got heavier from my weight. Which didn’t help thanks to my SMB ravaging my brain.

◆◆◆

I woke to the surging sensation of my brain not just being squeezed, but a tingling sensation that roiled in a circular motion around the sides of my head.

It made me feel like shit, but a whole lot better than a few hours ago. Instead of the tingling sensation, my brain felt as though nine nails were drilling into it.

As frustrating as it was for me to wake up with my SMB squeezing my brain, it annoyed me because my mind needed the rest. Each time I dozed, it would wake me with a sending surging pain across my brain, then down my spine, which eventually ended led to my knees, which quivered from the pain.

“Get your ass up Cypher, we gotta go!” Stryme snapped.

“I’m ready,” I lied, pushing myself up.

I snapped my eyes open watching the room come alive in its dimness. The cold wind danced around my fingers, stealing what little warmth I had. On the right, where the crates were Stryme had laid all six of them out in rows, the lids were off, showing what was inside.

I yawned, walked my way over, and stretched my waist and arms as I approached him kneeling to the right of the crates. He was filing bullets into a magazine, and by the stack that he had, he’d done that five times.

“You didn’t tell me these crates had mags in em.”

“Cypher….the crates have mags in them.”

I felt my jaw almost slip out of its socket from Stryme’s words. I nodded then, walked to the other side, looking inside. “This is an FH7R,” I said, noticing the mould of clay in a box.

“You know your plastique.”

“I should, I’ve used it more times than you probably pissed your bed.”

“Ha-ha…funny.”

“Wasn’t trying to be a kid, take it easy.”

I pulled the plastique box free, examining it. I don’t know what bullshit might happen, but more than likely I’ll need this to blow something up.

I slipped the box into my haversack and continued rummaging through the rest of the crates. In one of them, a found pistols and clips. In another was a submachine gun in a modular make I had never seen. I was curious to take it but relented on that because my Assault Rifle could probably get the job done.

In the last box, was nothing but water bottles, stopwatches, and cabling for hauling ass. I knew the gear would be needed so I took the most important things, which were the harness and the rest of the wire cables.

I pulled the last wire free and a small black box lay at the bottom of the crate. “What’s in this,” I asked Stryme. “How would I know? Everything I need is in that and here.” He said, pointing at the box with the submachine guns and pistols. “Fair enough,” I said.

The box came free with a tug. As I turned it in my hand, it was evident it was a box, but a briefcase.

The briefcase was fifteen inches wide and twelve inches long. It was silver in colour and rippled once the light hit it at an angle, which made it seem new, but the knocks and dents around proved otherwise.

I spun it to run, tapping the clips at the front. The clips snapped free, and a soft whistle of compressed air fluttered around the room, leaving white mist and god knows what else.

The air smelt green, with a hint of plastic and feint leather, which left me confused, especially my tongue which tasted pepper and left a sizzling sensation at the tip of my tongue.

I pulled the suit from the briefcase and realised what it was in an instant. “Didn’t Black give us a Furtiven Suit already?” I asked Stryme, who was now over by the water tank-filled wolf skin water pouches. “God knows, Black does as he pleases. I just follow protocol.”

“And what does protocol dictate?”

“We get our ass in Sceleratus!”

“Noted,”

I swapped the old Furtiven Suit out from my Haversack. I was happy to, in all honesty, the left had holes from bullets despite my best effort to ensure I wasn’t shot.

That didn’t matter when battling thirty pieces of shit in the desert. At least you’re still alive Cypher, I told myself. Now it’s time to get this Hedgehog and get my ass back to where I needed to be.

“All set?” Stryme asked me.

“Set.”

“Good… let's get our asses out of here.”

Stryme stomped his way over after finishing filling the wolfskin bottles. He knelt right next to the crate of modulars for the submachine guns. He pulled a metallic pole, one that was seven inches long and a dish, pulling He pulled a holed metal dish free and then sauntered onto another crate, this time the one with the pistols.

After pulling, what seems to be a motherboard and what looked like a cube processor out of the crate. Stryme began building what looked like a mini-satellite dish. “Is that encrypted?” I asked.

A loud click danced across the room and Stryme, turned to meet my gaze. His normally droopy eyes, curled into a smile, which was uncharacteristic of him. “It is now.” He said coyly, “let’s go.”

Stryme and I headed outside through the wafting space of the camouflage sheet. He turned left, heading to the back of the sheet and dropped the mini-satellite dish on the ground.

He then began fiddling with the dial, as if he were setting the frequency manually. Old tech I thought. A satisfied face finally painted itself across Stryme’s face and he pushed himself up. “Done.”

“Now where are we headed,” I asked

“Same direction as those trucks.”

I bit my lip and nodded, because if that wasn’t a bad sign. I simply didn’t know anything, or so I would feign my ignorance. “Lead the way.”

“Aye.”