Cloud’s expression hardened into ice.
"That pig," Cloud hissed quietly. "He’s finally making his move."
"You expected this?" Sasha whispered.
Cloud let out a humorless breath. "Gan’s wanted gone since day one. I’m the only thing keeping his greed in check. Now he has a convenient excuse."
Sasha looked at him — at the tension in his jaw, the fire behind his eyes.
He wasn’t just a soldier. He was a wall holding back corruption.
"And you still left the bastion knowing that?"
"I had left the bastion many tis before, but this never happened."
Cloud leaned closer to the radio.
"Alvaro, listen. Get this device to Fern. If he knows I’m alive, he’ll send a team."
Alvaro snorted. "With what excuse? I’m not allowed gear or communication devices. The mont they find this radio, I’m dead."
Cloud shut his eyes briefly, fighting frustration. "Fern won’t betray you. He’s loyal to ."
A beat of silence. Then Alvaro spoke again — grim:
"I heard this Fern’s the new Commander now."
Cloud froze.
"And rumor is... he’s siding with Gan. I don’t think you know your own soldiers commander. Most of them were thankful that you’re gone. Now that they could do whatever they want and eat how many tis they want."
Cloud’s breath hitched — disbelief crashing into anger.
"No... Fern wouldn’t—they wouldn’t . . ."
"The Bastion believes you’re dead," Alvaro continued. "Gan wants to keep it that way."
Sasha’s stomach twisted. That man in the chair — devouring food and power — was letting the city rot just so he could rule a throne of bones.
Alvaro’s voice softened when he spoke again.
"Sasha, I’ll get to you. I promise."
She held the radio tighter. "Don’t be reckless. And... look after yourself, okay?"
The radio crackled off — leaving only dust and dread behind.
Sasha slowly lowered the device, turning to Cloud.
He wasn’t looking at her. He was staring straight ahead — eyes burning with betrayal and sothing far darker.
For a long mont, neither spoke.
Then Cloud whispered, voice low and dangerous:
"I can’t believe that this is happening."
Sasha t his stare, pulse quickening — not out of fear... but anticipation.
"So... what now?" Sasha asked softly.
Her voice wasn’t accusing — just steady. Curious. Real.
"Do you still want to go back there?" she continued. "Knowing what’s waiting for you?"
Cloud looked at his boots for a mont — dust, blood, and exhaustion mixing into a heavy weight pressing down on him.
He exhaled slowly.
"I can’t let the people inside suffer under Gan’s rule. I should have dealt with him when I had the chance."
Sasha shook her head. "That’s not a solution. If you go after him now, you’ll be the one who ends up dead."
Cloud’s gaze hardened. "So I should simply leave them to rot?"
Her answer was imdiate. Firm.
"Yes."
Cloud blinked, stunned. Sasha t his gaze without a hint of hesitation.
"You’re not a commander anymore. There’s no governnt, no law, no ranks. Just survival in this new world." She leaned closer, voice low and firm. "Right now, you’re just a man trying to stay alive."
Cloud opened his mouth, but no words ca. Sasha’s hand gently brushed his arm — grounding him.
"If you keep playing hero for those who want you dead and for those people who only leech on you to survive," she continued, "you’ll die."
Cloud looked away, jaw tense. "But the Bastion... that’s my ho."
"Is it?" Sasha asked quietly. "Or is it just a cage that shackled you?"
He froze.
Sasha smiled — small, sincere. "Then co with . Co with us. We’ll go north, far away from Gan and the bastion."
Her eyes softened.
"With around, you won’t starve. With Alvaro around, you won’t be bored. And with you around..."
She shrugged lightly. "We won’t die."
Cloud stared at her — really stared.
She was... ridiculous.
Optimistic.
Over-confident.
Reckless.
But she was also right.
Everything was happening too fast — his rank lost, his ho corrupted, his life hanging by a thread.
He rubbed his forehead, weary. "I..."
"It’s okay." Sasha stepped back, giving him room to breathe. "You don’t have to decide now."
Cloud swallowed.
He had never been indecisive. Orders were simple. Orders gave purpose. But now... purpose had vanished.
Sasha stretched her limbs and dusted off her pants. "Co on. Let’s head back to the convenience store for now. Standing here makes us zombie bait."
Cloud blinked — then nodded, instinctively falling into step beside her.
As they headed back toward safety, Cloud’s mind spun in loops:
Leave the Bastion?
Run away?
With a woman he barely knew?
A woman who sohow made him feel like he had known her all his life?
He breathed out.
He needed ti.
He needed to think.
But for the first ti since the apocalypse began...
he realized he wasn’t thinking about survival —
He was thinking about her and a possibility of a future wit her.
Cloud shook his head, trying to force clarity into a mind swirling with betrayal, duty, and confusion. He needed space — needed to think. Sasha understood that without needing to be told.
They slipped back into the convenience store and reinforced their barricades — extra shelves, overturned counters, broken vending machines pressed against the door.
The noise attracted a few curious undead, but after scratching helplessly at the entrance, they eventually wandered off. As long as Cloud and Sasha remained silent, they were safe.
Safe... for now.
Cloud sat stiffly on the inflatable bed — his body present, but his mind very far away.
Sasha didn’t poke at his silence; she rely glanced his way before heading to the tiny restroom.
"I’ll cook in here," she whispered with a smile. "Steam and sll will be contained, so the undead wouldn’t notice."
Cloud nodded absently, which—coming from him—ant he approved.
Sasha rummaged through her space ring — pots, burners, spice kits... yes, spice kits — and poured her focus into making sothing warm and comforting.
If she couldn’t fix Cloud’s heart, she’d fix his stomach.
When she returned, a small steaming pot sat in her hands.
Cloud was exactly as she left him — sitting like a shut-down robot.
Sasha spooned a generous portion into a bowl and placed it gently into his hands.
"Eat," she said softly.
Cloud blinked — like waking from a trance — and eventually took a slow spoonful.
He didn’t praise it. But he didn’t stop eating either.
Small victory. Sasha hid her smile.
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