[THREE YEARS LATER: REVOLUTIONARY FORCE'S HIDDEN HEADQUARTERS]
The corridors of the Revolutionary Army's main headquarters were alive with activity. Soldiers passed briskly, their uniforms crisp and their faces set with determination. Leo walked silently beside Geralt, his black mask concealing the weariness in his aquamarine eyes.
"You still haven't told me why I had to come with you," Leo said finally, his tone flat.
Geralt let out a sharp breath, his pace steady as always. "I've been summoned back to the support unit. Seems the paperwork's piled up to the ceiling in my absence, and no one can handle the load. They want their secretary back."
Leo shrugged lightly. "Makes sense. You're irreplaceable, old man."
Geralt gave a short, humorless laugh. "Yeah, well, I don't mind taking the heat for my own mess. But I'm not the reason you're here. You've been summoned by Najenda, one of the top brass. Ever heard of her?"
Leo nodded. "The ex-Empire general. Heard a lot about her in the special forces. She's supposed to be sharp, ruthless, and a good leader."
"...She is," Geralt admitted, though his expression darkened. He slowed his steps, glancing at Leo. "But I'm not happy about what the higher-ups have decided for you."
Leo tilted his head. "What do you mean?"
"...They want you in her squad," Geralt said bluntly. "It's a small, specialized team with a reputation for taking on high-risk missions. The kind where survival's a coin toss."
Leo frowned slightly, his mask shifting as he processed Geralt's words. "And they think I'm the perfect fit because I'm hard to kill."
"Exactly," Geralt said bitterly. "They're betting on your regenerative abilities to give you the edge. They're not sending you because you're the best—they're sending you because you're the most expendable with the highest chance of living."
Leo was silent, his footsteps slowing.
"I'll talk to them," Geralt said firmly, stopping and turning to face Leo. "If you don't want this, I'll personally argue with the higher-ups and make sure they pull you out. You've done enough for the Revolutionary Army, and I won't let them treat you like a damn sacrificial pawn."
For a moment, Leo didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the floor. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm. "Don't bother. You've already done enough for me."
Geralt frowned, his brow furrowing deeply. "Don't give me that crap, kid. If you don't want this, you don't have to do it. I'll take the heat, it's not the first time I've butted heads with them."
Leo shook his head. "That's exactly why I won't let you. You've already risked your neck plenty of times for me. If you start fighting them over this, it'll hurt your position, and you're one of the only people keeping the support squad running."
"Damn it, Leo, this isn't about me—"
"I know," Leo interrupted, his tone steady but devoid of emotion. "But it's not worth it. I don't have much time left anyway, right? The doctors made that pretty clear. So why not go out with a bang instead of wasting away in some bed?"
Geralt's jaw clenched. "You don't know that. The doctors said your condition was unpredictable. You could have years left—"
"Or months," Leo cut in, his voice firm. "I'm not scared of dying, Geralt. What I'm scared of is doing nothing while I wait for it. If this squad is my last shot to fuck up those imperials , I'll take it."
Geralt exhaled sharply, his frustration evident. For a long moment, he simply stared at Leo, his expression torn between anger and grief. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter but no less firm.
"If you're set on doing this, fine. But promise me two things."
Leo tilted his head slightly, waiting.
"First, don't isolate yourself like you've been doing these past years," Geralt said, his tone heavy with concern. "You might think you're better off alone, but you're not. The people in this squad. Don't shut them out."
Leo gave a small nod, though the gesture felt hollow.
"And second," Geralt continued, his voice softening, "don't give up on living. You keep telling yourself you're already dead, but that's bullshit. Find something to hold onto, something worth living for. Even if it's just a shred of hope, don't let it go."
Leo hesitated, then nodded again, his movements stiff. "I'll try."
Geralt's eyes narrowed. "I'm going to hold you to that, kid. Don't make me regret letting you walk out of here."
....
The door to Najenda's office creaked open, revealing a room filled with a faint haze of cigarette smoke.
Inside, the woman regarded him with a single sharp purple eye, her silver hair framing her face like a steel crown. Dressed in a tailored black suit, she exuded an aura of command. The mechanical arm resting casually on the desk only added to her imposing presence.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Najenda took a long drag from her cigarette, studying Leo with a cool, assessing gaze.
"You must be Leo," she said finally, her voice even. "Not bad. I've heard a lot about you, though I expected someone taller."
Leo didn't rise to the bait, simply crossing his arms. "...Guess I'm not much for first impressions."
Najenda chuckled softly, her lips curving into a faint smirk. "I don't care about first impressions. I care about results. So, back to the topic, I've read your file, impressive stuff. They say you're hard to kill. That's a rare talent."
"More like a curse," Leo muttered under his breath.
Najenda didn't miss a beat. "Curses and blessings are just two sides of the same coin, kid. What matters is how you use it."
She gestured for him to take a seat, but Leo remained standing, "Geralt said your squad's the type that takes on the jobs no one else can handle."
"He's right," Najenda said, leaning back in her chair. "We're not here to play fair. We hit the Empire where it hurts and leave scars they can't heal. It's dirty work, but it's necessary."
Leo's eyes flickered with something unreadable. "Sounds dangerous."
"It is," Najenda admitted. "But it's also rewarding. You'll be working with some of the best operatives we've got. And if you're up for it, I'd like you to join us."
Leo crossed his arms. "What makes you think I'm interested?"
Najenda exhaled another stream of smoke, her gaze unwavering. "Because I know your type. You've got nothing to lose and everything to prove. Am I wrong?"
Leo's silence was answer enough.
"Good," Najenda said, stubbing out her cigarette. "Let's see what you've got. Meet me in the training hall. I want to see if you live up to the hype."
As she walked past him toward the training hall, she added, "And try not to scare new recruits too much. They're a little less durable than you."