"Join the Vacile"

Elle was fiercely against the idea.  In the back of her mind, she clung to the faint hope that there may be a sliver of freedom remaining for her—a little opportunity to escape. She could disappear. She could stay hidden, buried behind the ruins of this abandoned junkyard. It would be her safe haven, her escape from the mayhem that had always followed her.

She had learnt so much at The Shelter, including how to survive, live off the grid, and fade into the shadows. She could adapt and create a life out of nothing, just as she had previously. The junkyard might become her home. She would find a way to survive amidst the rusting machinery and shattered metal. She had to. 

But while the thoughts raced through her head, reality gnawed at the boundaries of her resolve. Deep down, she knew that such a life would be difficult, and the threat of being pursued would always be present. Still, that was the only alternative she could force herself to contemplate, the one ray of hope she could grab onto.

"You don't have a choice"

Elle had made her mind up. In an instant, the decision seemed obvious. She had one last option for escaping everything that had ever kept her as a captive Without hesitation, she took the revolver from the floorboard, the cool metal fitting into her hands with a frightening feeling of finality. 

She lifted it to her head, her hands firm, her face inscrutable. The weight of the revolver in her hands seemed almost comforting—a brutal sort of control in a world that had stripped her of all else. 

She knew it was empty, but she desperate. Desperate for an escape.

Nikolas moved more quickly than she could have expected. Before she could take another breath, his hand was around her wrist, jerking it away from her head with a force that stunned her. "Hey, hey, hey. What do you think you're doing?" His voice cut through the tight quiet, full of worry. Elle strained against his grip, defiance still burning in her eyes. 

"I'd rather die than join The Vacille." Her words were piercing declarations, each packed with the weight of her dread and disdain for the life she'd been forced to live. She struggled to pull her wrist free, but his grip was firm, his fingers like iron around her flesh.  

  

Nikolas' expression contorted in perplexity and anxiety, and his brow wrinkled deeply as he responded fast, taking the rifle from her grasp. "Listen," he whispered, his tone low yet firm. "I'm sorry for involving you in all this... shit. But that doesn't mean your life has to end like this."

His words stayed in the air, a silent plea for her to rethink and understand that there were other options for her to choose. Elle's breathing was short, and her heart was racing against the maelstrom of emotions pouring within her. Despite his attempts, she knew she wouldn't be able to escape this easily.  

  

Elle sunk back into her seat, the weight of her choice lingering in the air. Her mind was a tornado of contradictory feelings, but she decided to listen for the time being. She realized she had no other option—whatever road she took now, she couldn't continue pushing him away. Not when she was already deeply involved in the situation at hand.

"How about a deal?" Nikolas' voice burst through the quiet, measured and calm, but with an underlying sense of purpose.  

  

Elle looked at him hesitantly, still nervous and hesitant to fully trust the offer he was going to make. But she couldn't deny that the prospect of a deal, anything that may provide a gleam of stability in this calamity, was appealing.

Nikolas, for his part, was already had a plan. He had thought about it thoroughly, and the pieces of the puzzle were beginning to come together in his mind. The Vacille lacked a healer and he had seen her potential in her; the way she held a gun and moved with the accuracy of a trained individual. He could only presume Elle had come from The Shelter, complete with scars and survival instincts. She was tough, resourceful, and obviously needed a place to stay.  

  

Nikolas let out a quiet breath, letting go of her wrist. Elle glared at him, still stroking the region where his hand had held her, but she didn't say anything, her eyes hard and calculating.

"In exchange for your healing and combat skills," Nikolas began, his voice steady, "you'll get a free place to sleep, a clinic slash office, unlimited food, and—" he paused for a beat, meeting her eyes with a hint of something unspoken, "a newly found dysfunctional family. And I'll help you with your... cold problems."  

  

The offer hung in the air, its weight both essential and sincere. Nikolas wasn't simply giving her shelter and food. He was giving her a chance—however imperfect—at somewhat similar to a life. Something that was not determined by survival, terror, or solitude.

Elle sat still, her gaze fixed at him and her mind racing. The offer was appealing, but the thought of trusting, of letting her guard down enough to accept it, remained a distant, unattainable ideal.  

  

Elle listened closely, her keen eyes narrowing as she pondered his proposal. The words lingered in the air, enticing with their promise of shelter, nourishment, and a place to belong. But Elle didn't assist others until it benefitted her in some manner. That was her rule, her means of living in a world filled with violence.

Earlier, Nikolas had saved her from the imperial guards' grasp and saved her from being forced back into the oppressive life she had battled so hard to leave behind. In her opinion, that action alone earned him something in return. And this deal, this unexpected deal, seemed like the ideal chance to balance things out.  

  

Her eyes shifted to him, chilly yet inquisitive. The deal was too great to pass up. She could immediately see how it would help her—access to the resources she needed, a roof over her head, even endless food. And the "dysfunctional family" bit? She wasn't sure about that portion, but she was in no position to be choosy.

Elle gave a deep, resigned sigh. The weight of the situation hung over her like a thick cloud. She had no option but to embrace the harsh reality of it. There was no way out now, neither from Nikolas or the world she had been pushed into. "Alright," she said, her voice tinged with annoyance. "I'll join your fucking group."  

  

Nikolas' face brightened with a satisfied smirk and a spark of victory in his eyes. He slapped his hands together, about to say something, when a red light flashed on the dashboard. The steady, repetitive brightness drew both of their attention. Elle looked in astonishment as the light flashed, indicating that someone or something was attempting to connect with the car's communication system.

Nikolas did not skip a beat. "Alright, princess, buckle up," he replied with a playful grin, his tone becoming more serious. He instantly leaned over and pushed several buttons on the dashboard, his fingers moving with accustomed ease.  

  

Elle wrinkled her brow as she observed him, unsure of what was going on. The red light on the dashboard continued to flash until abruptly stopping and being replaced with a strong, steady green light that lit the space in front of the the car.

Nikolas' smile intensified, a glimmer of delight lighting in his eyes as he started the car. He maneuvered the car with perfect accuracy toward the green light. As they approached, the air surrounding them seemed to shimmer, indicating a small but noticeable change in the environment.  

  

Before Elle could make sense of it, they passed through the green light, and everything around them altered. The junkyard, the barren, rusting terrain that had served as their sole sanctuary, vanished. The automobile was no longer surrounded by the rotting remains of damaged machinery. Instead, they found themselves in a completely other environment, one that spread out before them like a huge, open field.

The Vacile Base.

Elle's breath froze in her throat as she gazed about, her wide eyes taking in the enormity of the plce. The foundation was massive—an intimidating, high-tech building that appeared to reach indefinitely in all directions. The air here seemed antiseptic and stuffy. She could feel the weight of everything pressing down on her, the knowledge that she was now fully immersed in their world, with no way out.

"Welcome to the Vacille, princess."