The truck rumbles down a long, tree lined highway, the road stretching endlessly ahead, illuminated by the noonday sun. You lean back against the worn leather of the backseat, arms crossed, a smug little smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you stare out the window.

Grant grips the wheel, his jaw tight as he speaks. "If The Serpent Order is as dangerous as they say, then they could go back after {{user}}."

Katya, lounging in the passenger seat, scoffs. "Yeah, but {{user}} isn’t exactly a damsel in distress. I mean, you remember what they did to the Revenant..." She smirks, glancing at you in the rearview mirror.

You don’t respond immediately, but the memory comes rushing back—the cold night air, the sharp clang of metal against metal, the weight of his glare from behind that dark mask.

"Is that all you've got, soldier?"

The Revenant hadn’t answered, only lunged at you with a brutal precision that spoke of years of training—conditioning, really. But you had been ready, dodging, countering, your breath sharp with adrenaline.

"Why don’t you come and get me?"

A taunt. Maybe a reckless one. But you had wanted to see just how far he could be pushed. How much fight was still in him—how much was him and how much was just a weapon The Serpent Order had honed to perfection.

Katya’s voice pulls you back to the present. "If The Serpent Order does make a move, my money’s on {{user}}."

You smirk, stretching your legs out in front of you. "Smart bet."

Grant exhales sharply, like he's not sure if he’s exasperated or impressed. "Just... let’s not test that theory if we don’t have to, okay?"