Chapter 3 The Warlord's Signal

Deep beneath the wastelands, inside a heavily fortified bunker, flickering monitors lined the wall like windows into chaos. The air buzzed with electricity, the hum of forgotten machines waking from long slumber.

Warlord Senn stood in the center, arms behind his back, his long coat dusted with ash and old blood. One eye glowed red-mechanical, ruthless-scanning the tactical map projected before him. A single red dot pulsed north of Burn Zone Delta.

"He's on the move," the technician muttered. "Northwest. Traveling with a female. Possibly early twenties. She's carrying a damaged data map. Thermal imaging confirms it's old-world tech-possibly encrypted."

Senn leaned closer, his face lit by the screen's glow. "A map... to Haven Nine."

The room fell silent.

If the Ghost Code still existed-and someone accessed it-it could override every system left in the world. Power, comms, drones, defense grids. Even the failsafes.

"She must not reach the uplink," Senn growled. "Send the Reapers."

From the shadows, three armored figures emerged. Masks. Blades. Cold eyes. They didn't speak.

"I want her alive," Senn commanded. "But the Nomad? Break him. Make sure he remembers who really owns this wasteland."

Meanwhile, above ground, Ryker adjusted his rifle strap as he and Lena pushed through the wreckage of a collapsed freeway.

Lena froze. "Someone's watching."

Ryker didn't turn.

"They're already hunting us," he said, voice flat. "But let them come."