Location: En Route to UNSC Forward Operating Base, Virek
Date and Time: May 19, 2553 – 1500 Hours
The Warthog bounces over the rough terrain as we make our way back to base, the convoy's captured trucks trailing behind us. It should feel like a victory, but there's a tension in the air that I can't shake. The firefight went off too easily—no reinforcements, no counterattack, nothing. It feels like we've walked right into the middle of something bigger.
Santiago rides shotgun, scanning the horizon with his rifle ready, while Dash and O'Neill sit in the back, their eyes locked on the trucks we captured from the URF. I can feel the same unease in them that's gnawing at me.
"You think they'll hit us on the way back?" Dash asks, breaking the silence. His voice is steady, but there's an edge to it.
"I don't know," I reply, keeping my eyes on the road ahead. "But stay sharp. They might've let us take the convoy for a reason."
The sun is beginning to set, casting long shadows across the landscape. The Warthog's engine hums as we move, but I can't shake the feeling that we're being watched. The URF might have let us get away, but they're not finished with us yet. I know how they operate—always with another layer to their plans.
I glance at Santiago, who's as quiet as I've ever seen him. He's usually the one cracking jokes or keeping the mood light, but today, there's none of that.
"You good?" I ask, keeping my voice low.
He nods, his eyes still scanning the terrain. "Yeah. Just waiting for the other shoe to drop."
We reach a narrow stretch of road flanked by dense trees on either side. It's the perfect spot for an ambush, and my gut twists with the thought.
"Slow it down," I say, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "Everyone on alert."
The Warthog slows as we enter the choke point, the captured trucks following closely behind. The trees are thick here, casting long shadows over the road. My finger hovers over the trigger of my rifle, ready for anything.
But nothing happens.
We pass through the trees without incident, the convoy rumbling behind us as we clear the danger zone. Still, the tension doesn't ease.
"It's too quiet," O'Neill mutters from the back, his eyes darting around the landscape. "This whole thing feels wrong."
I can't argue with him. Every instinct is screaming that something's off. We've had smooth missions before, but this feels different—like we're walking right into a trap, and we're the last ones to know.
As we approach the base, the familiar sight of the forward operating base brings some comfort. But even as we roll through the gates, the tension doesn't fully lift. We park the Warthog and unload, helping secure the captured trucks and their cargo.
Lieutenant Kane is waiting for us as we arrive, his face impassive as always. He's not one for celebrating victories too early, and I can see the same suspicion in his eyes that I've been feeling all day.
"Good work out there," Kane says, giving me a nod. "But something about this doesn't sit right."
I nod in agreement. "They let us take the convoy. No reinforcements, no resistance. It was too easy."
Kane crosses his arms, glancing at the trucks. "We're going to need to dig into these, see what the URF was really moving. My guess is this wasn't their main objective. They've got something else planned."
We spend the next few hours unloading and inspecting the trucks, but the cargo doesn't reveal anything unexpected. Weapons, supplies, standard stuff for the URF. But the feeling that we're missing something lingers.
As the sun sets, casting a deep orange glow over the base, I take a moment to catch my breath. The adrenaline has worn off, but the unease remains. There's something bigger happening here, something we're not seeing yet.
I walk over to Santiago, who's sitting on a crate, his rifle resting beside him. He looks up as I approach, giving me a tired smile.
"You ever get the feeling that we're just pawns in someone else's game?" he asks, his voice low.
"All the time," I reply, leaning against the crate next to him. "But we do what we can."
We sit in silence for a moment, the sounds of the base humming around us. The war feels endless sometimes, like no matter how many battles we win, the end is always just out of reach. But it's moments like this, sitting with my squad, that remind me why we keep fighting.
"You talk to Emily yet?" Santiago asks, breaking the silence.
I smile a little, remembering the night before. "Yeah, we talked. Went on a date."
His grin returns, wider this time. "And? How'd it go?"
"It went well," I say, keeping it simple but genuine. "She's… something else."
Santiago nods, his expression softening. "Good. You deserve something good."
I don't say anything, but his words hit home. I've been juggling a lot lately—the war, the squad, Emily. It's a lot to carry, but for the first time in a long time, I feel like I've got something real to look forward to.
As we sit there, watching the last light of the day disappear, I can't help but think about what comes next. The URF is still out there, still planning, still waiting for their next move. And we'll be ready when it comes.