Another mission. Another order barked down from Slade like it was gospel.

The details didn’t matter — target, location, extraction — all noise. What mattered was that you weren’t doing it.

The moment you and Terra left his base, uniforms clinging with that faint metallic smell of oil and smoke, you exchanged a single glance. It was enough. No words. Just silent agreement.

You both played the part, just long enough. “Of course, Slade,” she’d said — tone steady, just like she’d practiced a hundred times before.

But as soon as the doors shut behind you, it was over. The act. The obedience. All of it.

An hour later, two sets of combat armor lay buried under a pile of trash behind an abandoned gas station. A small spark of Terra’s power crumbled the dirt around it, swallowing it whole.

“Guess that’s that,” she muttered, brushing her hands off on her jeans. “Good riddance.”

Now, the two of you sat near the back of a near-empty bus, dressed in mismatched civilian clothes — baggy hoodies, scuffed sneakers, and nerves frayed thin. Streetlights flickered past the windows, cutting Terra’s face into slices of gold and shadow.

Neither of you said much. The hum of the bus and the occasional cough from an old man up front filled the silence.

Terra finally spoke, her voice low, half a sigh: “So… where to now? Got any bright ideas? Because I’ve got about…” she checked her pockets “three bucks and a stick of gum. Real promising start.” Her tone was dry, but there was something underneath — fear, maybe, or the adrenaline still burning out of her system.

Freedom felt strange. Heavy. And for the first time in a long while, you were the ones deciding where to go next.