Welcome to the Bakery!

Her time topside had been more tumultuous then usual. Weather was never guaranteed, well good weather, and she knew her luck had to break at some point. Embers filled the air, bits of who-knows-what burning and wafting through the air, catching more things alight.

Fortunately, she had worn a jacket and rebreather – little good the latter did as it was fashioned together with what felt like rubber bands and paper clips. She supposed it helped to some extent, even if only psychosomatic. The leather jacket stuck to her skin, sweat congealing making for an unfortunate sensation. But if nothing else it kept the burning bits in the air from roasting her skin. She could smell where the leather had been singed in places and was not looking forward to the seamstress work needed to fix it once back in Speranza.

She’d opted to come alone as she’d been doing lately. The loss of her partner still stung in ways she did not dare dwell on. Every now and again she’d venture the tip of her finger into that gaping wound, wince, and leave it alone. They’d offered her another duo partner and she declined. She was not ready and she did not know if she’d ever be after what she had witnessed. Solo raiding had once been a terrifying prospect. Now she found it oddly relaxing. Sure, if things went sideways she was alone in righting their trajectory but she’d been putting in the work. Hours at the practice range had honed in on a better, more efficient load out for solo traveling. She’d also discovered new tools for her kit that better served her than her trusty duo’s kit.

And there was just something magic about roaming topside alone. She’d written all sorts of stories about the people and animals that had once lived in the spaces now destroyed by ARC and the sands of time. Many monologues remained in her head, a steady soundtrack as she looted and avoided danger. Others she’d physically written in a notebook she carried with her. Truth be told, the freedom of raiding solo meant as long as she came back with some heft to her pack, no one bothered to ask her what she was doing or what mission she’d been on. Because truth be told there wasn’t always a purpose save her own curiosity and another tale in her book.

Today’s raid was one of those times. She’d spent most of her time huddled under a copse of apricot trees out in the middle of Red Lake. Hidden, for one, because of the Leaper that so often meandered there, but also because she had nearly set her journal ablaze by a cinder falling onto the rough pages. So engrossed was she in her work that she lost all track of time and was snapped to by the warning that an ARC orbiter was incoming.

Packing hastily, she bolted across the blood red waters to the Red Lakes Balcony Lift. She’d not brought a raider hatch key with her, an opportunity missed and a lesson learned. In her haste, she’d been loud and somewhat oblivious to her surroundings…and now she was staring up at a Rocketeer whose soft blue light told her she’d yet to have been spotted. By it or the Wasp that hovered lazily to her right.

She was out in the open and with little options. Time was not on her side nor was her position. Luckily, she carried at least one lure grenade in her pack and she sent it flying down into the waters below. Both Wasp and Rocketeer veered off to see what the noise was about and she ran as hard as she could to the lift.

Sweat puddled under the jacket and corduroy pants she wore as she punched buttons, willing the decrepit lift to move faster. Just as the lift’s lights turned to green and the doors came down she heard the shrill whistle of the Wasp she’d only momentarily distracted. It was coming towards her with the Rocketeer not too far behind.

Using what little cover she could find, she crouched and counted to five. Just as she whispered “five” aloud, the doors rose catching the first blast from the Rocketeer. The sound was deafening and the concussion of it sent her to the floor where she laid, breathing heavily as the lift descended into Speranza. She spared an errant thought for the apricots in her pack that she may have just turned to jam, but her relief was louder than her concern of returning empty-handed.