ACT III
"THE COST OF US"
"The one who has a why to live can bear almost any how" - Friedrich Nietzsche

- A D A R A - K O N S D O T T I R -

     The gusts whip against my arm, making me cringe as they hit the wounds I'd gained in the last day. I wince as I look up: the stars flicker above a watercolor sky, sinking into a deep blue as wind blows across the ridge line.

     Torn fabric from a banner wraps around the spot where my Maelstrom tracker used to sit. It'd created quite the mess in that train car as the blood had pooled beneath me. The singe of Dominik's bullet hadn't helped either - although I guess it'd make for a cool scar story?

     Christ.

     The fire in front of me crackles as I lie back against a rock, staring up at the night sky. My arm bumps against my trusty rifle, now cold from the highland breeze. I'd take the cold over the brutal desert heat any day of the week. The train, I believe, had taken me into the nation of Al Kamara. The Capitol, evidently, is not far away, but I can't see it from where I lie.

     I grunt in pain as I sit up, grabbing my bag and fumbling around inside. The light of the fire glows against it lightly, revealing the small satellite phone I pull out of it. It's a small piece of tech I insisted on having; Mena had teased me relentlessly about it.

     "Aww, grandma can't learn how to use these new-fangled touchscreens?" She'd laugh, nodding in comedic disapproval. Something told me, though, that it would end up useful one day.

     God, I miss her.

     Part of me wants to dial her cell on this tacky, overbuilt keypad, to ask her what she really knew - what she hadn't said. But I couldn't. Any contact with anyone Maelstrom-related would reveal my location. I'd gotten lucky escaping in Erbil, and I couldn't sabotage it now.

     I huff as I stare at the small screen, fixated on the pixels. I've had an entire day of silent thought, and I still can't believe it. Why would they surrender to Raleigh's scheme? He's signing the death of anyone with power in Al Kamara to prevent something that isn't even guaranteed to happen.

     These people know me. They were my family - and now, they're more worried about putting a bullet in me to ensure the death of Suri Ali.

     They're not family anymore.

     I begin pressing buttons in the keypad, mentally preparing myself as I press call and extend the antenna. My breathing slows as I try to focus on the fire to get my thoughts somewhere - anywhere - else.

     "Hello?" I hear on the other end, causing my breath to hitch. I almost hang up, weighing what I'm about to do. I don't want them to worry.

     "Hey, Mom," I sigh, hanging my head and resting my forehead on my free hand. "It's me. It's Adara."

     "Adara?" My Mom's voice comes through, breath on the line. "What's going on?"

     "Listen," I stutter lightly. "I'm okay, I'm alive. Things have not gone to plan."

     "Sweetie?" I hear another voice, recognizing it as my dad's instantly. "What do you mean?"

     I debate making some funny quip, but stop myself. It would be cruel. "I can't say," I admit meekly, my jaw tightening.

     "Do you need help?" Mom asks in a panicked, breathless voice. "Adara?"

     "Mom, no, I've got this," I mutter, imagining the scenario where they get dragged into this shit show. "I need you two to take a vacation to the cabin."

     An uncomfortable silence hugs the air as my words seemingly register across the world. Our family owns an old cabin deep in the Appalachian mountains; it's the perfect vacation home, but it serves a dual purpose. I remember having this conversation with them multiple times: if there was an emergency, they needed to break for the cabin.

     I know this worries them, that this is somewhat of a cruel bomb to drop on their previously peaceful day - but I don't know Maelstrom anymore. If they hunt me... who knows how far they'd go?

     "Where are you?" My Dad says in a deep voice, like he's about to put on a coat and take on the powers at be alone.

     "I can't tell you," I frown, looking out at the ridge line. "I will be back, guys, I promise. I'll tell you everything then."

     "You sound scared," Dad counters, making me blink in surprise. "You're never scared."

     "If anything, I'm overreacting," I lie through my teeth, feeling more and more guilty for making a necessary but panic-inducing call. "I won't take a chance, though."

     "There has to be something we can do!" Mom exclaims, frustrated and confused at the same time.

     "Do you trust me?"

     That line causes another moment of silence before I hear my Mom's voice again. "We do. We understand."

     "Be safe, Adara, please," Dad sighs.

     I pause for a moment as a tear rolls down my cheek, catching me off guard. "I will," I state, taking the phone from my ear and hanging up. I fold up the phone, feeling the dam of my emotions begin to crumble as my head lands in my hands. The crackles of the flames drown out my sobs as the reality of my situation sets in.

     I failed.

     Again.

     Years ago, I let that girl die - and it got a squad mate killed. 'I do remember his name,' I think to myself, remembering the dig Barr had landed the night before. Carlos.

     Now, after changing my life, fighting for a cause I believed was right... I'm being asked the same question by Raleigh. He was my second chance, but nothing had changed.

     I wipe the tears away, the faces of my squad and Suri in my head. I can't afford to think about Maelstrom right now. My time there is over, whether they label me a threat to them as a rogue agent or a deserter to disregard. "You're throwing it all away," I sigh aloud, remembering the words of Dom and Lucas. One of them is now an attempted assassin, the other the closest friend I have.

     Lucas has been there for me when no one else has - he's been the one constant throughout my military life. I remember when the two of us passed basic together, being selected to Delta together, and... watching me fail together. And now, he's with Raleigh, clearly torn between our two worlds.

     I grip my rifle, sliding the bolt and feeling the metal parts pass across each other effortlessly. This rifle is decked out with Maelstrom tech, handcrafted and designed to help me be the most elite operator I could possibly be. Now, it's all gone. Baghdad will not happen again - I won't let it.

     I will save Suri... by any means necessary.