Stryme took us through a couple of ravines and a creek leading us north. The past two days we didn’t speak, not unless it involved water checking and ration checking.

Our checks didn’t involve us speaking, but grunts and humphs. We tossed each other’s packs, ensuring we were stocked well enough.

By Stryme’s estimation, we were a day out from Sceleratus and I was happy to hear that. Then, I just had to figure out how the fuck I’d infiltrate the fortress, which posed another challenge.

I wasn’t worried about not finding a way into the Fortress. Yes, what Mr Black showed me made me feel as though it was impenetrable, but with most things, there’s always a way in, you just have to find it, just like I did Underwent.

My biggest concern was Lieutenant Ranton. Mr Black didn’t show me any information on him, nor did I know who he was.

That, for me, was the most frustrating thing about this mission. I needed to know how he thought, that was how I’d truly get inside. Know the man, and you’ll know his house, that was the saying in Dawn Light.

The final drudge through the Waste was at hand, as we covered more ground during the night than day. It was cold as hell but far more rejuvenating that during the day.

Also, having a tent to sleep in during the day was a blessing, so I was more than thankful for that pit stop, which had enough equipment to make the journey to Sceleratus a lot easier.

“We’re here,” Stryme said calmly looking in the distance.

A mountain sat before us, a few hundred meters off. As I stood there, I watched as the wind rolled over the mountain carrying dust and sand, making it seem majestic, despite how close we were.

The dust and sand finally settled after a few seconds of gawking. Of course, we had to mentally prepare to climb, nothing I was in the mental state to do.

The Carib Waste had its way of mentally tormenting anyone who set foot in its arid embrace.

An embrace I couldn’t understand how Stryme could weather it so easily, without it playing on his mind as it did mine.

The Mountain wasn’t a mountain, the more I looked at it, it was littered with stain marks with water running down the surface.

The marks were brownish-black, with bits seeming to look like mould on its craggy surface.

Stryme and I began our ascent up the mountain. It was a series of inclines and short rights and left, with a bit of foliage flowing within our path. Something I didn’t expect.

The foliage was rare in the Carib Waste. It was virtually non-existent, but I guess the rain did fall in certain, areas which the sun couldn’t reach which led to dew building up within the mountain. I guess this retched place can still live.

The surface of the mountain crumbled between my fingertips as I made my ascent. Stryme, who was a few meters ahead of me, created a path for me to follow, as he was lighter.

The path to the top was slow and very much a grind. My haversack was heavier due to the extra magazines I had and also my Assault Rifle, which I dismantled before making the trip up.

Thirty minutes passed and the climb was leaving beads of sweat falling into my eyes. Ignoring them went as far as my training led me, which fortunately was for a good while.

The icy winds continued their ravaging campaign to still warmth from my body, as I continued onward as the sun had finally set.

“This is bullshit!” Stryme huffed from above. I looked up, realising that he’d complete his ascent, leaving me to make my way up.

I followed suit, reaching the peak of the mountain ledge, and dragged myself up, rolling over and looking into the sky, watching the clouds enshroud the moon, halting any moonlight from spraying across the desert, but mostly me.

My chest heaved in and out, as I was out of breath, but mostly tired from the ascent. It wasn’t comforting, but It was fucking over. Now to find out what Stryme’s bitching about now, I thought.

I pushed myself, then scanned the area looking for him. He was to my right, hiding behind a rock, which made me prone toward him.

The annoyance painted across his face was quite telling, especially how his teeth sunk into his bottom lip, but despite that. I still had to ask. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything. The plans gone to shit!”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

He pointed to his right with his nose, and I nodded, bypassing without asking him further.

I slipped my haversack from my back, then crawled mimicking a snail, then looked down the bottom of the mountain to see what was pissing Stryme.

Sceleratus sat in the far distance, walls looking as indestructible as ever. Five lights beamed across from the guard towers, ensuring no one could pass.

I zoomed in on the outer layer of the wall and noticed something peculiar. The village outside of the Sceleratus had been destroyed and from the looks of a devastating firefight had taken place.

My eyes drifted to the far right, and the wind caught sand, puffing it into the air. The sand rolled over a camp sight, filled with dozens of trucks littered down below.

When I finished counting the trucks that were there, in this newly established camp. I felt more winded than a kangaroo pouch, with no kid to nestle himself into the pouch. “I guess we know where those trucks were headed now,” I said aloud.

Stryme looked at me with disgust, as if I were some bad omen. He pursed his lips and shake his head, leaving me to wonder what our next plan is because surely we sure as well gun our way down.

FUCK!

◆◆◆

“Have you got the comms working?” I asked.

“Not yet,” Stryme grunted.

“We need to reach Eltessa.”

“You don’t fucking think I know that Cypher? I’m not as green as you think, for fucksake.”

“I never said you were green, Stryme.”

“But you fucking thought it!”

“True,” I admitted.

Stryme lips gaped as he looked at me, disgust still written across them. I ignored it, rolling my eyes. You just proved my point. I mused, withholding my urge to shake my head. “Now that it’s out in the open, we need to make a plan.”

“What fucking plan Cypher? How the fuck are we supposed to get into Sceleratus now?”

“Leave that to me.”

“You, on the other hand, try to get the comms working. We need to know what’s going on inside. You think Eltessa is still alive?”

“Of course she is!”

“Good.”

I stuck my hand into my haversack, fishing the Furtiven Suit free, the new one and began undressing from my desert fatigues preparing myself to make my way down.

“Wait…you’re going down there?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Need to know the situation.”

Stryme didn’t say anything, but I could see the hesitation in his eyes, despite how dark it was outside. “You’re worrying about me Stryme, how uncharacteristic of you,” I said with a laugh.

“No…I’m worried about the mission.”

I turned to him, shock written across my face. “So…characteristic of you.”

“You’re welcome.” He said, leaving me to ignore him.

The Furtiven Suit was loose around my waist, shoulders, legs and chest. I flipped my left wrist upwards, tapping the compression and felt the suit compress around my body, leaving a feint cool sensation washing around my body.

I knelt, and threw a few punches, ensuring it fits me perfectly. Not that it mattered.

The mountain ledge was a lot more spacious compared to the creek Stryme and I commandeered for two days. It was also quite far from the camp itself. It took me a few hours to make my descent without a problem.

My heart was in my chest, but occasionally sank to my stomach whenever I misstepped. Thankfully, it was only a patch of grass.

The descent downhill was our only option. We needed to find out what the hell was going on, and why the fuck a siege was taking place outside of Sceleratus.

The only problem was, that I’d have to use the camera in my cybernetic wrist to gather information, a taxing problem at that, especially with me still only having a few vials of slethe left for me to complete this mission.

I finally made it close enough to camp and was able to get a better gauge of it from this angle. The camp was right a hundred meters in diameter, in what would be an uneven circle.

In the centre of the circle, was the biggest tent, which was made out of an octagon. The other tents that sat alongside it were far small, probably to house whoever was running this shindig’s lieutenants.

The camp sight had eight flood lights, spaced out perfectly, providing great light, more than enough to keep them alert. The moaning sound of the generator reverberated up the hill, like a growling dog, begging for its next meal. “This is some bullshit.” I said, “Maybe Stryme’s right, nothing goes smoothly when I’m around.”