CHAPTER 290: FIRE AND STEEL [ 6 ]

Good," Gunner replied, a hint of impatience in his voice.

Ethan tapped his heel against the deck, a nervous habit surfacing. "So, do you want the pitch now or after the next one?"

Gunner shot him a look that could silence a crowd.

"Relax," Ethan said, raising his palms defensively. "I’m not talking about filming; I’m talking distribution, TerraWorld style."

Gunner’s jaw clenched as he processed the words. "No chatter about our work."

"It’s not our work," Ethan countered smoothly. "It’s our results."

"No chatter," Gunner reiterated firmly.

Ethan lifted his hands in mock surrender. "Your party; I just bring fireworks."

"Next site?" Stone chimed in, breaking the tension.

Silas projected a map onto their visors, six red points lighting up along the southern corridor like beacons of urgency.

One point pulsed ominously. "Two hours by road. Four if we take the clean path. Eight if we play nice."

"We don’t play," Gunner declared with conviction. "We don’t hurry; we arrive."

Mireille leaned her head back and shut her eyes for a moment of peace,fifteen minutes of sleep before she would awaken as sharp as ever.

Rask checked his magazines by touch,a ritual he never skipped,counting rounds like beads on a string.

Vance rolled his neck until it popped and let out a sigh as he relaxed his shoulders.

Holt flexed his forearm again, reassuring himself it would hold under pressure while Silas tuned into the nets, searching for quiet amid chaos.

Ethan finally rested the detonator on his thigh and observed Gunner lost in thought.

As time passed, their trucks left behind bad roads for worse oneszthe net calmed down around them like settling dust after a storm.

The bright plume of activity faded to dullness and then vanished behind hills; once more, the desert resumed its age-old role: empty and indifferent.

They reached their mid-point cache under cover of darkness, refueling beneath a single hooded lamp illuminating only what was necessary,a hand pump for fuel.

Guns were wiped clean; suits brushed off; faces remained untouched by scrutiny.

Gunner stepped aside for a moment to gaze upwards,no stars tonight thanks to cloud cover and smoke obscuring them from view.

He didn’t mind; he knew that even when hidden, the sky existed just as surely as their mission did.

"Three hours," Silas whispered into Gunner’s ear through comms. "Then we hit the fork: left is hard but keeps us under long-range nets; right is clean and fast but reckless."

"Left," Gunner decided without hesitation.

"Already plotted."

Ethan strolled over, hands casually tucked into his pockets, his posture relaxed. "You ever going to let me talk you into a little showmanship?" he asked with a playful grin.

"Your pilot already did that," Gunner replied, his expression unyielding.

Ethan chuckled. "He’ll appreciate the compliment."

Gunner remained serious. "The first one will draw eyes. The second will bring hands. The third will reveal teeth. After that, they’ll start thinking."

"And then?" Ethan pressed, intrigued.

"After that," Gunner said slowly, "we’ll see who wants to live."

They continued their drive as dawn broke. The heat had lifted from the crater just enough for local drones to take a look.

The surviving feeds showed only glass and steam,an immaculate circle pressed into the earth like a coin in clay.

Some might call it a crime; others would see it as a miracle.

Most would simply label it someone else’s problem and that suited their work just fine.

A couple of ridgelines away, in a warehouse that didn’t exist on any map, a dozen men and women prepped their gear, cleaned their knives, and watched the sun peek over the roof’s edge.

On an unmarked airstrip a hundred miles out, the Skyfang rested with one engine humming softly,a beast poised for action.

The pilot sat on the tarmac, helmet resting on her knee and eyes shut tight; she could feel the plane’s restless energy beneath her skin.

Meanwhile, in the trucks rolling toward their next target,the team that had erased a lab without leaving even a brick behind,Gunner called out: "Status?"

"Green," came three voices in unison.

"Green," echoed two more.

"Green," Holt confirmed last.

"Ethan?" Gunner turned to him expectantly.

"Always green," Ethan replied confidently. "And armed."

"Good." Gunner’s gaze fixed on the distant horizon as he set his jaw firmly. "We do it again."

The convoy descended into an area where nothing alive dared to watch them pass.

The wheels gripped the ground while engines hummed steadily,a symphony of purpose driving them forward along an invisible path leading straight to their goal.

They moved without haste; they knew they would arrive when they needed to and when they did, there would be another hole in the ground and another message hanging in the air for anyone brave enough to decipher it.

Silence enveloped the trucks for quite some time; there was nothing more pressing than anticipating the next turn ahead of them.

In the back seat, Ethan pulled out the detonator from his thigh holster and slipped it into his pocket like it was just another lighter,no big deal at all!

He gazed through a narrow window at landscapes rushing by beneath an indifferent sky and couldn’t help but smile at thoughts of "medical salts."

It was a clever joke, one that always brought a smile. He thought of a man who commanded respect without ever raising his voice,a true master of influence.

The thrill of being part of a plan that consistently paid off sent a small rush through him.

But soon, he let those thoughts fade away, allowing the soothing hum of the road to quiet his mind. After all, there was work waiting ahead.

The road twisted and turned, and the trucks followed suit, navigating the curves with ease.

Behind them, somewhere in the distance, a circle began to cool,perhaps an ending or a moment of reflection? And just ahead lay another circle waiting to be drawn,a new opportunity on the horizon.

They drove on, each mile bringing them closer to their destination.