The ruined building loomed over them like the skeleton of some once-great beast, its cracked walls and jagged edges lit faintly by the red-orange glow of a distant firestorm. The three had slipped through the Rust Gate after the Ruinwalker's defeat, their exhaustion driving them to seek shelter in the hollowed-out first floor of the structure. The walls offered some protection, and the collapsed roof above shielded them from prying eyes in the sky.
Rain knelt beside Rook, her small medical kit spread out on the cracked tile floor. The sharp smell of antiseptic filled the air as she worked methodically, her hands steady despite the deep gashes and bruises she was treating. Rook winced as she dabbed at a particularly nasty wound on his shoulder with a swab soaked in a pale blue liquid.
"You're lucky this stuff works so fast," Rain said lightly, her voice soft but steady. "Otherwise, you'd probably still be bleeding all over the place."
Rook chuckled, though it came out more as a strained grunt. "And here I thought you were just being gentle with me."
Rain raised an eyebrow at him, not pausing her work. "Don't push your luck. This medication wasn't cheap." She gestured to the small vial of the blue liquid, now half-empty.
Rook glanced at it, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "This… this is from the Old Ones, isn't it? I've never seen anything like it before."
Rain nodded, capping the vial carefully and placing it back in her kit. "Advanced tech from the Once-World. It's designed to accelerate healing, repair tissue damage—stuff like that. Back then, it was reserved for the rich or the important. Even now, after the Collapse, it's rare. I picked it up at The Hole for emergencies."
Rook frowned, his gaze dropping to the clean bandages now wrapped tightly around his arm. "Something that valuable… are you sure it was a good idea to use it on me?"
"Of course it was," Rain said firmly. She sat back on her heels, meeting his eyes. "You're the most injured out of all of us. If anyone deserved it, it was you."
From her post near the shattered window, Snow turned her head slightly, her sharp gaze flicking between the two. She was keeping watch for patrolling machines, but every so often, she'd glance back at Rain and Rook, her eyes narrowing whenever their conversation lingered too long or Rook smiled a little too much.
"She's right," Snow said as she finally approached, her voice clipped but carrying an undercurrent of something else. "You owe her. Big time." She sat down on the ground across from them, resting her longshooter against her knee. Her glare settled on Rook, and though her words were neutral, there was a distinct edge to them.
Rook raised his hands in mock surrender, a tired smile tugging at his lips. "I know. And I'll pay you back, I swear."
"You'd better," Snow muttered, leaning back against the wall.
Rain, oblivious to—or perhaps willfully ignoring—the tension, pulled a rolled-up map from her pack and spread it out between them. The paper was worn and patched in places, its edges curled from age and use. She tapped a spot marked with a faded circle. "This is Paradise," she said, her voice tinged with quiet hope.
Rook leaned forward, studying the map. His brow furrowed as he traced the path they would need to take. "That's… quite a ways from here. We'll need supplies, and there are ruins nearby that might have what we need. But still, getting there won't be easy."
Rain smiled at him. "We're used to it being hard. But thank you for sticking with us, even when you didn't have to."
He shrugged, though his expression softened. "Like Snow said, I owe you. And besides…" He looked back toward the Rust Gate, the shadow of the defeated Ruinwalker still heavy in his mind. "I want to know what's beyond all this. That thing wasn't guarding the Rust Gate for nothing."
Rain's expression brightened at his words. "Paradise," she said again, her voice filled with quiet conviction. "The Old Ones' terraforming project. It's supposed to be able to fix everything—turn the world back into what it used to be. That's why we're going there."
Rook let out a low whistle, leaning back against the wall. "That's a big dream," he said, his tone thoughtful. "Grand and noble. I don't think I've met anyone else with the guts to chase something like that."
Snow's eyes narrowed at his words, her jaw tightening. "Don't get any ideas," she said sharply.
Rook blinked at her, then laughed softly, holding up his hands again. "Relax, I wasn't—"
"Good," Snow cut him off, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Rain, catching the tension between them, grinned slyly. "Jealous, Snow?" she teased, leaning a little closer to her partner.
Snow's ears turned red, but her glare only deepened. "I just don't trust him," she said flatly.
Rain chuckled, reaching over to take Snow's hand. Her fingers laced with Snow's, and her voice softened. "Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere."
Snow hesitated, her sharp edges softening as she squeezed Rain's hand. She muttered something under her breath that sounded like "You'd better not."
Rook watched the exchange with a raised eyebrow, leaning his head back against the wall. "You two are something else," he said, more to himself than to them. His gaze lingered on their joined hands, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Partners? Soulmates? Lovers? Who knows?"
Snow shot him a glare that could have melted steel. "Don't think too hard about it," she said curtly.
Rain giggled, her earlier exhaustion momentarily forgotten. "You're lucky we let you tag along, Rook."
"Yeah, yeah," Rook muttered, shaking his head with a smirk. "I'm starting to think I'm the third wheel here."
The tension in the room eased into something lighter, the three of them falling into a quiet companionship as the night deepened. When they finally lay down to sleep, Rain and Snow curled up side by side, their hands still clasped between them.
Rook, lying a short distance away, glanced over at them and let out a soft sigh. He stared up at the cracked ceiling above, his thoughts wandering as the sounds of the ruined world outside began to fade.
————————————————————————————————————————————
The road to the scrapyard stretched across the desolate Darklands, its surface cracked and buckling beneath the weight of countless years. Rusted machines and twisted heaps of metal flanked the path like grotesque sculptures, their jagged edges reaching skyward in some mockery of prayer. Rain walked a little ahead of the group, her eyes scanning the grim landscape with a mix of curiosity and unease.
"So this is what they left behind?" Rain asked, kicking a small piece of corroded metal. The clink it made as it tumbled into the dirt seemed unnaturally loud in the oppressive silence. "I thought Paradise's terraforming project was supposed to fix places like this."
Rook, who had been adjusting the straps of his pack, snorted. "Maybe it started to, but then the wars came. People fighting over what was left of the old world, tearing each other apart for scraps." He gestured broadly at the endless sea of rust and ruin. "Guess the machines couldn't keep up. The Darklands turned into a dumping ground for everyone's trash instead."
Snow, walking silently at the rear, finally spoke, her voice low and measured. "The machines were supposed to help," she said, her gaze sweeping over the mountains of junk. "Terraformers, recyclers, engineers. They were built to repair the damage the Old Ones did. But when the Collapse came, those machines became just more garbage. Tools without hands to wield them."
Rain frowned at the thought, her steps slowing as she considered the sheer waste surrounding them. "It feels… wrong," she murmured. "Like something sacred was lost here."
Rook rolled his eyes but said nothing, letting the conversation die as they continued through the scrapyard. The metallic tang in the air grew stronger, mingling with the acrid smell of oil and decay.
When they reached the crest of a small hill, an abandoned factory came into view, its massive chimneys leaning precariously as if the wind might topple them at any moment. Near the entrance, a small cluster of horses stood tethered to a rusted railing. A man leaned against the wall nearby, idly smoking something that smelled like burnt rubber.
Snow dropped to a crouch instantly, her sharp eyes narrowing as she motioned for the others to do the same. "Get down," she hissed.
"What is it?" Rook whispered, lowering himself behind a mound of scrap.
"Horses," Snow muttered, pointing toward the factory. "And a handler. We're not alone."
Rain crept up beside her, squinting at the scene below. "Someone got here first," she said, her voice barely audible.
"Great," Rook muttered. "Let's turn around and find another ruin to scavenge. I don't feel like getting into a fight today."
Snow shook her head. "If we leave them alone, they'll know someone's been here. They might come looking for us later."
Rain nodded in agreement. "Better to deal with them now, while they don't know we're here."
Rook looked like he wanted to argue but bit his tongue, glancing uneasily between the two women. Snow, however, was already formulating a plan.
"I'll handle this," she said, her voice firm. "Alone. I can move quieter without the two of you."
Rain started to protest, but Snow shot her a warning look. "Stay here. Both of you."
Without waiting for a response, Snow slipped away, her movements as silent as a shadow.
The handler didn't notice her at first, too preoccupied with his cigarette. The horses, however, did. They shifted uneasily, their hooves scraping against the pavement. Snow froze, waiting for the man to turn, but he simply muttered something under his breath and took another drag. She moved closer, her knife glinting faintly in the dim light.
The blow was quick and precise, the hilt of her blade striking the back of his head. He crumpled to the ground without a sound. Snow glanced at the horses, calming them with a quiet gesture before slipping into the factory's shadowed interior.
Inside, the air was thick with the smell of rust and mildew. Shafts of pale light streamed through the broken roof, illuminating patches of the crumbling floor. Snow's ears caught the low murmur of voices further in, and she crept toward the sound, her steps careful and deliberate.
Two men stood near a rusted conveyor belt, their weapons slung casually over their shoulders. Both wore red bandanas and sports goggles, their rough laughter echoing faintly in the empty space.
"I'm telling you, we'll find her," one of them said, his voice coarse. "That Knower girl's with that scavenger convoy, right? They can't have gone far."
Snow's blood ran cold. They're looking for Rain.
"Yeah, yeah," the other replied, kicking at a loose piece of metal. "Still don't know why the boss cares so much. She's just some bookworm."
"Boss's orders," the first man said with a shrug. "Doesn't matter why. We find her, we get promoted. Better booze, better chicks, nothing can go wrong with those."
Snow didn't wait to hear more. She moved swiftly, her knife striking the first man before he could react. He crumpled instantly, his companion spinning around in shock.
"What the—"
Snow grabbed him by his collar, slamming him against the conveyor belt. "Why are you after her?" she demanded, her voice a low growl.
The man struggled, but her grip was iron. "I-I don't know!" he stammered, panic flooding his eyes. "Orders! That's all I know!"
Before Snow could press further, a distant gunshot rang out, cutting through the factory's silence like a knife. Her heart leapt into her throat.
The others!
She knocked the man out with a quick blow to the head, letting his limp body drop to the ground. Then she turned and sprinted for the exit, her boots pounding against the factory floor.
As she reached the doorway, a sudden blow to the side of her head sent her sprawling. Stars exploded in her vision as she hit the ground, the rough pavement scraping against her cheek.
"Well, well," a gruff voice said above her. "Looks like we caught another one."
Snow tried to push herself up, but a heavy boot pressed against her back, forcing her down. She could hear voices, laughter, the sound of weapons being readied.
"This one's a fighter," someone said.
"Good," another replied. "The legion's always looking for strong slaves. She will surely be put to good use."
Snow's vision blurred, her strength failing as the world around her faded to black. The last thing she heard was the sound of her captors' laughter.