The safe house was eerily quiet in the hours before dawn. Moxie sat at the wooden table in the dimly lit kitchen, nursing a cup of cold coffee as she pored over the intel Jorja had managed to extract during the ambush. The makeshift map in front of her was a chaotic patchwork of handwritten notes, coordinates, and hastily sketched diagrams. Her eyes scanned the paper, searching for any clue that could give the Resistance an advantage.
Flashes of her past surged in the quiet, unbidden memories of the night her parents were taken from her. Moxie gritted her teeth, willing the darkness in her mind to retreat. There was no room for fear or regret here. Not now. Not ever.
The creak of a floorboard jolted her back to reality. She glanced up to see Elara standing in the doorway, a shadowy silhouette in the dim light. Elara's eyes reflected the same worry Moxie felt, though she masked it behind a stern expression. "Can't sleep either?" Elara asked, her voice a whisper in the quiet.
Moxie shook her head, offering a weary smile. "Too much on my mind. I keep thinking about the Institute's next move. We got lucky tonight."
Elara moved forward, pulling out a chair and sitting across from Moxie. "It wasn't luck, Moxie. It was skill, planning, and a whole lot of guts. Give yourself some credit."
Moxie sighed, rubbing her temples. "Maybe. But I know how these things work. They'll be combing the city for us by morning, and we're running out of places to hide."
Elara's eyes softened, an unusual sight that Moxie rarely saw. "That's why we're doing this. The supplies we captured will keep us going, and this intel could be the key to hitting them where it hurts."
Moxie nodded, though the weight of uncertainty still pressed on her. She picked up a scrap of paper from the table and held it up to the dim light. "These coordinates… they don't match any of the Institute's known facilities. It could be something new, something they're trying to keep off the grid."
"Or it could be a trap," Elara pointed out, her eyes narrowing as she studied the map. "They're smart. They know we're desperate for any advantage. If they leaked this information on purpose, we could be walking into an ambush."
Moxie's jaw tightened. "That's a risk we have to take. If it's something important, we need to find out what they're hiding. But we'll be careful, set up contingency plans."
A silence fell between them, thick with the weight of the decision ahead. Moxie could sense the unspoken question in Elara's gaze. What if they didn't make it back this time? What if this mission ended in disaster?
But Moxie pushed those thoughts aside. She had to be strong, for the team, for the Resistance. They couldn't afford to falter now. Elara's expression shifted, as though reading Moxie's mind. "We'll make it, Moxie," she said, her voice firm. "We've come too far to let them break us."
Moxie felt a surge of determination. "You're right. We're not going down without a fight."
The next morning, the safe house buzzed with activity. Jorja was hunched over a radio, fine-tuning the frequency to catch any Institute transmissions. Lena sat in the corner, disassembling and cleaning her rifle, her hands moving with practiced precision. The air was filled with the sounds of preparation—the click of weapons, the rustle of maps, and the low murmur of whispered conversations. Each member of the team moved with a grim focus, aware of the high stakes.
Moxie stood in the center of the room, arms crossed over her chest, as the team gathered around. "We have a new objective," she announced, her voice cutting through the noise. "Last night, we managed to intercept some coordinates that don't match any known Institute facilities. It could be a hidden outpost, a supply depot, or something more. Whatever it is, we're going to find out."
A murmur of excitement and concern rippled through the group. Jorja glanced up from the radio, a frown creasing her forehead. "You're sure about this, Moxie? It could be a trap."
"I know," Moxie replied, meeting Jorja's gaze steadily. "But it's a risk we have to take. We'll approach cautiously, scout the area first, and be ready to pull out if things go south."
Elara stepped forward, her expression resolute. "I'll lead the scouting team. We can get in close, gather intel, and report back before we commit to anything."
Moxie nodded, grateful for Elara's willingness to take on the dangerous task. "Alright, but no heroics. We're not here to fight if we can avoid it. Our goal is to gather information."
The team dispersed, preparing for the mission. Moxie watched them for a moment, a mixture of pride and worry churning inside her. These people were her family, and she would do anything to protect them. But the reality was harsh: every mission carried the risk of loss. She took a deep breath and walked over to Lena, who was meticulously loading rounds into a magazine.
"Lena," Moxie said quietly, drawing the sniper's gaze. "Watch out for Jorja out there, okay?"
Lena nodded, her eyes steely. "Always do, Boss. We'll make it back, all of us."
Moxie forced a smile, but the knot in her stomach refused to unravel. She knew better than anyone how quickly things could go wrong. Still, she had to trust in their skills—and in the plan.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the city in shades of gray and gold, Moxie and Elara led the scouting team through the narrow, winding streets. They moved like phantoms, slipping between shadows and ducking behind abandoned vehicles. The air was damp and thick with tension, every creak and rustle amplifying in the silence. Moxie's heart pounded in her chest, a rhythm of anxiety that matched the tense quiet of their surroundings.
The coordinates led them to an industrial sector on the city's outskirts. Tall, skeletal structures loomed in the fading light, their rusting frames casting long, jagged shadows across the cracked pavement. The area was eerily silent, the only sound the distant hum of machinery. There were no guards in sight, no patrols—a fact that made Moxie's skin crawl.
"There," Elara whispered, pointing to a nondescript building half-hidden by a row of dilapidated warehouses. "That's the spot."
Moxie squinted through the gloom, trying to make out any movement near the building. The windows were dark, the doors shut tight. It looked abandoned, but Moxie knew better than to trust appearances. She felt a strange prickling at the back of her neck—a warning she had learned to heed over years of surviving the Institute's brutality.
"Spread out," she ordered, her voice barely audible. "Lena, Jorja, take the south side. Elara, you're with me on the north. Keep your eyes open and radios on."
The team split up, moving cautiously toward their respective positions. Moxie kept low, her senses on high alert as she and Elara approached the northern side of the building. The air was thick with tension, every shadow a potential threat. Moxie's grip on her weapon tightened, the metal cool and reassuring against her palm.
They reached the building's side entrance, a rusted metal door that seemed out of place in the otherwise nondescript exterior. Moxie pressed her ear against the door, listening for any sound from within. Silence. She glanced at Elara, who nodded, her hand hovering over the grip of her sidearm.
Moxie took a deep breath, signaling for Elara to cover her as she reached for the door handle. She turned it slowly, feeling the resistance of rusted metal under her grip. The door creaked open, revealing a darkened hallway beyond.
"Clear," Moxie whispered, stepping inside. The hallway stretched into darkness, lined with closed doors on either side. A faint, musty odor filled the air, a mixture of dust and something chemical.
They moved down the hallway, each step cautious and deliberate. Moxie's eyes scanned the shadows, every fiber of her being on edge. Her mind raced, cataloging every noise, every flicker of light. Something about this place felt wrong, an unsettling quiet that set her nerves on edge.
"Hold up," Elara murmured, her gaze fixed on a faint glow seeping from under one of the doors further down the hall. "Looks like there's activity in there."
Moxie nodded, motioning for Elara to follow as they crept closer. The glow grew brighter as they approached, the faint hum of machinery reaching their ears. Moxie's heart thudded in her chest. Whatever was behind that door, it wasn't abandoned.
She reached out, hand hovering over the doorknob, when a sudden sound behind them made her freeze. The faint click of a boot against the concrete floor. Moxie spun around, eyes wide as a figure stepped out of the shadows, weapon.