Hello, and welcome back, my friends.

What a journey the last chapter was! So much to process, so much to reflect on. One thing is certain: Alpha Team has proven they are stronger, sharper, and more determined than ever before. Their bond has been tested, their resolve tempered, and their grit unmatched.

But the story marches forward, and the next adventure awaits just over the horizon. New challenges loom, and the stakes continue to rise.

Ladies and gentlemen, it's time to soar to new heights. I present to you… A Bird's Eye View.

Read on Readers!

-RTP

The scent hit Manic before he even opened his eyes—a warm, savory aroma that filled every inch of the base, rich with the unmistakable smell of bacon and eggs. With a groggy grin, he rubbed his face and dragged himself out of bed, grabbing a tank top and shuffling upstairs from the bunker in his boxers, still half-asleep.

As he rounded the corner into the kitchen, he was met by Zara standing at the stove, flipping bacon with a surprising level of skill and concentration. She was in casual clothes—cargo pants and a simple T-shirt, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, and she had a pleased smirk on her face as she glanced up.

"Well, well," Zara teased, eyebrow raised as she looked him over, "morning, Sleeping Beauty. Didn't expect a fashion show this early." She gave him a playful, exaggerated look up and down. "Or... lack of fashion."

Manic laughed, stretching lazily. "What, you don't like the look? Thought I'd keep it casual—real down-to-earth."

She grinned, eyes twinkling. "Oh, don't get me wrong. Just… not sure I'll be able to focus on cooking now."

"Distracting, huh?" he replied, flashing a grin. "Didn't know I had that kind of effect on you."

"Oh, please," Zara shot back with a smirk, "don't let it go to your head. Though, I guess you can't help it when there's not much fashion sense to fill it with."

Manic chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. "Point taken." He leaned over to snag a slice of bacon from the pan, but Zara slapped his hand away with the spatula.

"Ah-ah! Hands off, rockstar! Breakfast isn't served yet."

Just then, the door creaked open, and Aster strolled in carrying a small box filled with various mechanical parts, looking between Manic and Zara with raised eyebrows. A grin spread across his face.

"Manic!" Aster said, barely holding back a laugh, "put some clothes on, dude. My sister's in here!"

Manic and Zara immediately straightened, looking away from each other with mock seriousness.

"Oh yeah, sorry," Manic mumbled, scratching the back of his neck, feigning embarrassment. "Didn't mean to scar anyone this early."

Aster burst out laughing, setting the box down. "It's not the worst thing she's seen… probably."

Zara rolled her eyes, shoving a plate of freshly finished scrambled eggs into Manic's hands. "Both of you are insufferable." She tried to look stern, but the smile at the corner of her mouth betrayed her.

Aster leaned against the counter, shaking his head as he picked up a piece of bacon from the pile she'd set aside. "Seriously, though, sis. You outdid yourself. Farm fresh?"

"Farm fresh," Zara confirmed, looking pleased with herself. "Scouted a place down south with the drone. Looks like they've been flying under the UO's radar—figured I'd try to grab a few extras while I was at it. Lovely old couple and a young man." She smiled as she motioned towards the now operational freezer. "Plenty of meat and eggs are plentiful from the farm, and milk too. As long as trade holds out, we are set for a while in regards to fresh food.

Manic took a bite, leaning back and savoring it with a sigh. "It's amazing. I didn't even know what I was missing till now."

They dug in, laughter and the clink of plates filling the small kitchen. For a brief moment, it was like the outside world didn't exist—the constant missions, the risks, the UO's looming threat faded into the background. Here, at least for a morning, they were just friends sharing a meal, indulging in a rare moment of peace.

As the morning warmed, the kitchen began filling with the rest of the team, one by one drawn in by the irresistible aroma. Garrett stumbled in first, bleary-eyed and yawning, still half-asleep as he collapsed into a chair, grabbing a mug and filling it with coffee as if on autopilot.

"Mornin," he mumbled, voice barely a murmur over his coffee.

"Morning," Manic replied, grinning as he slid a plate of bacon his way. Garrett perked up immediately, eyeing the food with delight.

"Oh, now that's worth waking up for," he said, loading his plate.

Next, Sarah entered, her hair still damp from an early-morning scouting run, her gaze lighting up when she saw the spread on the table. "This better not be a dream," she murmured, grabbing some eggs and bacon, looking from Manic to Zara with a grin. "So, who do I thank for this?"

"Thank our scout-extraordinaire, Zara," Manic said, pointing at her with his fork. "She's apparently our new breakfast connoisseur."

"Oh, please, just thank the farmers south of here," Zara replied, waving a hand. "They were happy to trade."

Just then, Sol entered, looking far more awake than the others. He glanced around the table, eyes widening a little as he took in the plates piled high with food.

"Alright, I gotta ask," Sol said with a smirk, "how'd you manage this? Did we hit a UO pantry and I didn't get the memo?"

Zara grinned, tapping her fork on her plate. "Local farm a few miles south. I'd been testing my prototype drone and spotted it. We ended up trading some ration spices, preserves, and odds and ends with an old farmer out there. Said he's loyal to the Empire, but he's keeping his head down till Miles can retake the capital."

Sol's expression softened with respect. "Smart man. And a good reminder we still have allies out there—even when it feels like the whole world's against us."

Bolt and Razor sauntered in, clearly fresh from a late-night shift. Bolt glanced around, and his usual grin widened. "Whoa, now, did I step into the wrong bar? Don't remember signing up for a five-star breakfast." Razor chuckled as he quietly saddled up to the table, nodding to Zara and Manic before digging in.

"You didn't," Aster quipped, sliding a plate of bacon Bolt's way. "Consider this a perk of not blowing anything up for twenty-four hours."

Bolt shrugged, chomping on the bacon with satisfaction. "Hey, then I'm glad I gave it a break."

As they all sat, passing plates around and sharing small talk, the usual sharp edges and vigilance softened. There was laughter, stories of near misses, and complaints about bed springs and the smell of engine oil clinging to uniforms. They all felt the weight lift, if only for a moment, as the threat of the UO, the battles, and the future of the Empire faded into the background.

"Feels like a taste of normal," Sarah murmured, breaking a comfortable silence as she sipped her coffee.

"Yeah," Manic agreed, glancing at each of them with a rare, warm smile. "Long as we've got mornings like this, it's a damn good reminder of why we're fighting."

A murmur of agreement passed around the table. Sol gave Manic a nod, catching his eye. "Here's to more breakfasts like this one, then," he said, lifting his coffee mug.

The others raised theirs, echoing his words.

Just as the crew settled deeper into their breakfast, Kaid shuffled in, looking like a grease-stained, sleep-deprived specter. Dark smudges of axle grease decorated his face and arms, and the faint whiff of metal and oil trailed him into the room. He blinked blearily at the spread of food before him, like he'd stumbled into a dream.

"Finally finished the A3T," he mumbled, heading straight for the plates. "New sonar, suspension upgrade… thing's ready to take on mountains and mudslides."

Garrett chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "You're saying you actually pulled off all those upgrades in one night?"

Kaid gave him a blank stare, clearly in the haze of sleep deprivation. "Not all me… but Garrett bailed halfway to do something called sleep, so it's mostly me, yeah." He absently grabbed a plate, stacking it high.

Manic leaned back with a smirk, waving his hand in front of his nose. "What's that new cologne, Kaid? Eau de Axle Grease?"

Kaid's response was a simple middle finger as he stumbled to the far corner of the table, collapsing into a chair away from everyone else. "Not a morning person, that one," Manic muttered with a grin, causing a ripple of laughter around the table.

"Thanks for the food," Kaid mumbled, stabbing at his bacon, already zoning out again. He eyed his food and briefly closed his eyes and mumbled under his breath before he took his first bite.

"I didn't know you were religious Kaid." Manic said as he took a long swig from his canteen. Kaid looked up half awake and smirked.

"I wouldn't say I'm religious." He mused, "my father held a strong faith within our family. Sometimes I just like to remind the big man upstairs that I'm still around.

The morning passed slowly as light conversation turned to hushed murmurs. Once breakfast had settled into that lazy, comfortable silence, Zara finished the last of her coffee and stood, stretching her arms with a smirk. "Alright, team—drone test time."

Outside, in the wide-open field behind the bar, Zara unveiled her latest project: a sleek, matte-black drone with folded wings, designed for high mobility and long flight times. It was compact enough to rest comfortably across her back when the wings folded in, but substantial enough to pack some serious tech. She'd outfitted it with everything from heat sensors to sound-suppressing rotors, and she was in the final stages of adapting it to a VR headset Miles had provided.

"So, what's the range on this thing?" Sol asked, circling it with admiration.

"This thing, is Isabella, and she's a queen you peasant." Zara spat with mock indignity. She then chuckled and continued "About a mile and a half," Zara moved to the table, donning the headset and sliding her hands into a pair of wired gloves. "If I can get it fully rigged to VR, I'll be able to pilot it from anywhere—just need to test the range and stability first." She flicked a switch, and the drone whirred to life, the wings unfolding with a satisfying click. And the rotors sliding into place, positioned like a miniature osprey.

The others stood back, watching her make some initial tweaks. Through the VR headset, she could see the drone's perspective in real-time, and she began to control its altitude with a smooth turn of her hand. The drone wobbled slightly, its engines adjusting, and then began to gain stability.

"Not bad!" Manic commented, watching as the drone made slow, careful circles above their heads.

Zara grinned, getting the hang of the controls, her confidence building. "Just need to get the glove response down and we're golden."

But as she lifted the drone higher, she tried a more complex move, attempting to bank sharply to the right with a slight flick of her wrist. The glove controls overreacted, sending the drone diving sideways at an alarming speed—straight toward Manic.

"Uh—Zara!" he yelped, barely ducking in time. The drone clipped low, hitting him right where it hurt most before careening past him and crashing into a bush.

The others broke out into laughter, Garrett doubling over and Sol leaning against the cantina wall, struggling to keep his composure as Manic staggered back, hands on his knees, wincing.

"Guess the drone likes you," Sarah joked, unable to hide her grin.

Zara quickly pulled off the VR headset, her cheeks red as she hurried over. "Manic, I am so sorry—I didn't mean to… I thought I had it!"

Manic straightened, managing a weak grin despite the pain. "Just… maybe give a guy a heads-up next time, huh?"

Aster clapped him on the back, laughing. "On the bright side, it looks like the collision avoidance is working—just not quite as intended."

Everyone shared a laugh as Zara adjusted the drone's settings, vowing to improve its response time. And though Manic might've had a bruised ego (and more), he couldn't help but join in, appreciating that in this rare moment of peace, they could all laugh—at themselves, at each other, and at the strange life they shared together.

As the sun dipped lower, the hidden base bustled with focused energy. Garrett and Aster worked underground, assisting the construction bots as they clinked and hummed, hauling stone and dirt out of the expanding underground chambers. Nearby, Sarah and Kaid loaded medical supplies and basic rations into the A3T, carefully organizing them for a potential quick getaway. Kaid muttered his checklist under his breath, only pausing to check bolts and straps, while Sarah passed him packs of essentials, both of them working in sync.

At a nearby table, Bolt was poring over a long-range mortar schematic, his hands twitching with excitement at the thought of adding a new weapon to the A3T's arsenal. He kept scribbling down notes, muttering, "Just a little more kick, that's all it needs… one round to scatter 'em good." Meanwhile, Sol leafed through reports he'd gathered, reading over updates from the Empire that he'd eventually submit to Shadow. He tapped his finger against the pages, frowning at each setback, but soldiering through the work.

Razor sat quietly, half-hidden behind the bar, with his rifle parts spread across a cloth in front of him. He meticulously polished his scope lenses, tilting them to catch the light. Nearby, a small sketchpad held rough pencil designs for a custom silencer he'd been working on.

Across the way, out in the fields, Manic and Zara had been testing her prototype drone for hours. Its small, streamlined body glinted in the light as it whirred over the ground, wings folding and unfolding with each short flight test. Zara grinned, leaning into Manic as she adjusted the controls through her glove, her VR headset snug over her face. "Looks like we're getting somewhere," she said with a spark of excitement.

Just then, her expression changed. "Hold up," Zara muttered, spotting something on the drone's long-range camera feed. "We've got company—looks like two vehicles heading our way, less than a mile out."

Manic's easy smile turned sharp as he activated his comm. "Heads up, people. Lockdown protocol, now."

The team responded instantly, the bar exterior and surrounding areas transforming. The bots whirred, hiding supplies and weapons underground, while Bolt's schematics vanished into a drawer. The A3T was quickly driven around to the back, covered in a tarp. Soon, everything was concealed, as if the bar was no more than an abandoned relic in the wasteland.

The caravan of wasters rolled up to a stop just outside the building, their engines cutting out with a sputter. The punked-out figures climbed out of their vehicles, sneering as they looked around the bar's quiet exterior.

Inside, Razor sat waiting. He leaned back in a chair with his boots propped up on a table, his hat pulled low over his face. His rifle, freshly assembled, was within reach.

The door creaked open as the punks sauntered in, eyes glinting with bravado. Razor barely glanced up, flicking a nonexistent speck of dust off his sleeve. "You fellas lost?" he asked coolly, his voice low and graveled. "This ain't exactly the spot for city slickers like yourselves."

One of the punks—a wiry kid with a neon-green mohawk—scoffed. "We don't get lost. We go where we want." He sneered at Razor. "What's a guy like you doing out here all alone?"

Razor chuckled, standing up slowly. He let his gaze sweep over the group before he reached into his boot, pulling out a sleek, polished knife. He casually inspected the blade as the punks shared uneasy glances.

"There's five of us and only one of you," another punk said, trying to sound tougher than he felt. "We'll be taking whatever booze you've got left."

Razor's smile widened, a flash of teeth in the dim light. "Oh, you're welcome to try."

Suddenly, Razor raised his hand, forming a mock gun with his fingers. "Bang. Bang," he whispered, mimicking a rapid-fire shot. Almost on cue, the punk with the mohawk felt the standing part of his hair pull and then fall to the ground before him, and the guy next to him watched in shock as the feathers on the sides of his vest explode and float in pieces to the ground, each one hit by a perfectly aimed, silent shot. Manic and Aster fired from the shadows, their silenced weapons spooking the punks as they tried to pinpoint where the shots came from.

The punks' bravado cracked, but it shattered completely when the front doors creaked open. Sol strode in, flexing his bare, muscled arms, his eyes gleaming with a wicked glint. He held a brutal knuckled knife in one hand, twisting it with practiced ease.

"Oh, look what we have here," he said, his voice thick with a Russian accent. "Fresh meat! My pigs will eat well tonight." He advanced slowly, savoring the terror on their faces.

One of the punks, visibly trembling, stammered, "W-We don't want any trouble, man!"

Sol's laugh was dark, echoing through the bar. "Too late. You've already found it."

The punk leader's face went pale, and with a yelp, he turned, leaping through the nearest window, shattering the glass. His crew followed in a chaotic scramble, piling out in every direction only to discover their vehicles up in flames.

As the last of the wasters fled, the entire team emerged, looking rough and punked-out themselves, like specters from the wasteland. Garrett, Sarah, Zara, Aster, and Manic were all dressed down, blending into the wasteland aesthetic. Manic held a stiletto knife, a piece of straw dangling loosely from his lips. He let out a rough chuckle as he called after them in a gravelly voice, "Thanks for the new rides, fellas!"

He gave a flick of his knife as Kaid, positioned outside, triggered small explosions that popped along the path behind the wasters, adding to their panic. Hats, scraps of cloth, and dust flew into the air as the wasters bolted down the road, the leader sporting a now noticeably wet pair of pants.

"Yeah," Zara said with a grin, "they're not coming back."

The team exchanged grins as they watched the wasters disappear into the horizon, the cantina returning to its eerie calm, hidden from the world once more.