Spotty and Ila’s Scouting Mission
Spotty and Ila stepped through the shimmering portal and emerged onto the alternate Earth, the air thick with an eerie stillness. The desolate landscape stretched around them, punctuated by broken structures, scorched earth, and the skeletal remains of what might once have been thriving vegetation. The last human holdout, visible as a faint cluster of buildings on the horizon, was approximately 20 kilometers away.
The two women stood quietly for a moment, taking in the scene. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional gust of wind. It was clear that this was a place ravaged by conflict and despair.
Spotty’s Perspective
Spotty adjusted her crystalline blue eyes to the dim light filtering through the overcast sky. Her blonde hair, free and slightly wavy, swayed gently in the breeze as she scanned their surroundings. The devastation is worse than I expected. But at least this distance gives us room to breathe—and keeps Lyra and Elizabeth from having a collective aneurysm.
Her gaze flicked to Ila, who was double-checking her weapons. Spotty smirked. “So,” she said, breaking the silence, “are we still pretending this is just a scouting mission?”
She gestured to her own arsenal—a sleek rifle slung across her back, a sidearm holstered at her hip, and enough explosives packed into her gear to level a small city. “Because I’m pretty sure we’re bending the definition again.”
Ila’s Perspective
Ila chuckled, her fiery red hair gleaming even in the muted light. She patted the hilt of a blade strapped to her thigh and adjusted the strap of her shoulder-mounted energy launcher. “Oh, Spotty,” Ila said, her voice laced with sarcasm, “we’re not bending the definition—we’re obliterating it.”
She glanced at Spotty with a mischievous grin. “But hey, at least we portaled far enough away to make them happy, right? I’m sure Elizabeth and Lyra are proud of us for showing such restraint.”
Not that it matters, Ila thought, scanning the horizon with a practiced eye. If something goes wrong, this gear will come in handy. And knowing us, something *always goes wrong.*
Their Exchange
Spotty rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Restraint, huh? That’s what we’re calling it now?”
Ila smirked, nudging her lightly. “Hey, I didn’t bring a nuke this time. That counts for something.”
Spotty laughed, shaking her head. “you not carrying a nuke doesn’t mean much, considering we have an entire fleet in orbit armed with weapons that make nukes look like firecrackers.”
She glanced at Ila, waiting for her reaction. Let’s see what she does with that one.
Ila chuckled, her fiery red hair catching the faint light as she turned to Spotty. “Fair point,” she admitted, a grin tugging at her lips. “But hey, at least I’m not the one who can reset entire timelines. Talk about overkill.”
She’s always one step ahead in these conversations, Ila thought, her amber eyes glinting with amusement.
Spotty’s Thoughts
We’ve seen devastation like this before, but it never gets easier. If there’s still life in that holdout, they’re going to be hardened survivors. They’ll either welcome us or try to kill us on sight. Either way, we’ll handle it.
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied the faint outline of the settlement. And if the First Evil has a foothold there, we’ll need every ounce of firepower we brought—and then some.
Ila’s Thoughts
Ila adjusted her pack, her amber eyes scanning the jagged ruins around them. 20 kilometers isn’t far, but it’s enough to give us time to assess. Not that Spotty and I are known for playing it safe.
She glanced at Spotty, noting the determination etched on her face. She always acts like she’s invincible—and maybe she is. But this place is a reminder that even gods can bleed. We need to be careful, no matter how confident we feel.
The Conversation Continues
Spotty broke the silence again, her voice lighter this time. “Think we’ll make it all the way to the settlement without anything trying to kill us?”
Ila snorted. “Please. I’d be disappointed if something didn’t try.”
Spotty grinned, her crystalline blue eyes gleaming with amusement. “Liberal interpretation of ‘bug out at the first signs of trouble,’ then?”
Ila gave her a mock salute. “Always.”
They began walking toward the settlement, their movements synchronized from years of working together. Though their banter continued, their senses remained sharp, ready for whatever this broken world might throw at them.