Before Nero stirred from his dream—while the rust-stained hills still clung to morning shadow—the gates of Ironwatch opened with the low groan of grinding gears. Two heavy armored vehicles surged out, metal hulks cutting into the quiet.
The Iron Veil team was on the move.
Low clouds dragged across the terrain, staining the dawn in steel and ash. Cold wind coiled between the ridges as HAV-5 Warden led the convoy, its reinforced frame slicing through the fog like a war-hardened beast.
Behind it, DRV-11 Howler growled forward, engines steady beneath layered armor—its rhythm like distant thunder rolling through stone.
Inside the lead transport, the air was quiet but taut. Every soldier was locked in. Focused.
Whether they would meet Angelo as a friend—or a threat—they would be ready.
Major Rix Harrow adjusted his headset, his voice crisp as he keyed into the long-range channel.
"Echo Needle, come in. Echo Needle. This is Major Rix Harrow. Do you copy?"
A brief crackle answered. Then—
"This is Specialist Rhea Tannis, Echo Needle. We hear you, Major."
"We've just departed Ironwatch," Harrow reported. "Iron Veil is moving toward your last recorded path. Current ETA: four days."
A pause followed—just long enough to feel the distance between them.
"Understood, sir," Rhea replied. "We're en route to Nomad's last signal. Approximately eighteen hours out."
Another voice cut in behind her—more relaxed, less practiced.
"Private Drex here. Weather's clear so far. Terrain's manageable. No hostiles in sight."
Harrow's tone didn't change.
"Copy. Maintain pace and caution. Drex—you remember your orders?"
"Crystal clear, sir," Drex answered immediately. "We'll hold position once we reach the signal. No engagement unless absolutely necessary."
"Good," Harrow said. "Maintain comms every four hours. That's all for now."
"Echo Needle out," Rhea signed off.
The channel clicked silent.
[Echo Needle – En Route]
The hum of Strider's engine filled the cabin as the landscape slid past in flickers of red rock and skeletal brush.
Inside the transport, Rhea shot Kato a sideways look—annoyance written plain. "Did you really have to cut into the call?"
Kato didn't even hesitate. "It was Major Harrow. I had to."
Vinn dragged a hand down his face. "You really need to stop doing that. We get it—you look up to him. But cutting in like that will get you in trouble."
"You're right," Kato said solemnly. "I should stop cutting in—"
He paused.
"—and just pick up the calls directly."
Vinn sighed. Long and tired. "You're hopeless."
Kato twisted around in his seat, grinning back at him. "And yet—here I am. Alive. And charming."
Rhea didn't look amused. "You two. Enough. Final gear check—now. Everything secured. We can't afford to be seen."
Kato slid into the back beside Vinn. The joking faded as they went to work, hands moving over weapons, portable scanners, recon kits. Methodical. Quiet.
After a moment, Kato spoke again—lower this time. "You really think we can handle Angelo if he attacks?"
The question settled into the cabin.
The engine droned. Tires crunched over gravel.
Vinn answered without looking up. "I don't think we stand a chance."
Kato swallowed. "You said he took down most of the Watchers and Angels. Alone."
"Kato." Rhea's voice cut sharp. "Enough. Check the gear. Stay focused. We are not here to engage. We observe. That's it. You confirmed that with Major Harrow—ten minutes ago."
No one replied.
But their movements quickened. Sharper. More precise.
Strider kept moving.
[Ironwatch – Medical Bay]
The sterile quiet of Ironwatch's medical bay pressed in from all sides.
A nurse stepped into Dr. Elias Grant's room, tablet tucked against her arm. Overhead lights buzzed faintly—the same tired hum they'd carried for the last few days. Grant lay on the raised cot, bandages cinched tight around his torso. His face was drawn, eyes sunken—but sharp.
"Isn't Lieutenant Asha around?" he asked. His voice was steadier than it had been. "She's the one assigned to me."
The nurse hesitated, searching for the right words. "The Lieutenant is—"
Before she could finish, General Kaelen Mordane stepped through the open door. His uniform was immaculate, boots striking a measured rhythm against the tile.
"Lieutenant Asha is out on assignment," Mordane said flatly. "Another doctor will take over."
Grant shifted, a sharp breath slipping out as he tried—and failed—to sit up.
"Good morning, General Mordane."
"No need to move," Mordane replied. "You're still in no condition for that."
Grant gave a tight nod, eyes never leaving the General. "Any word on General Pierce?"
Mordane exhaled slowly. "We can't locate his tracker. It may have been disabled… destroyed…"
He paused, letting the words hang.
"…or worse."
Grant closed his eyes for a brief moment, then opened them again. "I understand."
Mordane studied him. "Not going to ask about the kid? Angelo?"
Grant's gaze drifted toward the ceiling. "What's the point?" he murmured. "You wouldn't tell me anyway. Am I wrong?"
A faint smile tugged at Mordane's mouth. "Focus on your recovery."
He turned and left. The door sealed behind him with a soft hiss.
Grant's eyes stayed on the doorway for a moment after it closed.
"As if focusing will speed this up," he muttered.
His eyes slid back to the ceiling. His breathing stayed shallow—careful.
"I wish Marcelle was here…" he whispered.
[Quarantine Block – Milo Renn]
In the reinforced lower levels of Ironwatch, the quarantine wing lay silent. Dim ceiling lights stretched down the corridor, flickering now and then—undecided between holding on and giving out.
Inside one of the isolation rooms, a nurse entered with a uniformed soldier at her side. Their movements were precise. Routine. Scan. Confirm. Record.
Milo Renn sat on the bench, legs crossed, back straight.
Watching.
The nurse checked her scanner.
"Specialist Milo Renn. Your 72-hour quarantine is complete. Vitals normal. Test results clear. You're officially released."
Milo grinned, exhaling as he stretched his arms.
"Finally. Free from this cage."
Neither the nurse nor the soldier responded. Milo was always like this.
But—
Was it really Milo this time?
He stood and began gathering his belongings: jacket, gloves, a folded tactical vest, the personal effects issued to him here. He moved with practiced ease—motions familiar enough to be automatic.
Too automatic.
Too calm.
He hummed as he worked. A tune slightly off-beat. Not cheerful. Not sad.
Just… wrong.
Milo slung the duffle over his shoulder and walked past them without another word. The door sealed shut behind him with a soft hiss.
The nurse hesitated, glancing back.
Inside the now-empty room, a low hum lingered in the air. The overhead light flickered once more.
And in the far corner—untouched, exactly where it had been for the past two days—
Milo's drone.
He hadn't picked it up.
Hadn't even looked at it.