Lisa slowly opened her eyes, immediately aware of the pungent smell of antiseptic in the air. The sterile scent was almost overpowering. The hospital bed's crisp blue sheets rustled beneath her as she shifted, the fabric making a soft crinkling noise. To her left, an IV bag hung on a metal pole, its liquid contents flowing steadily into her arm. Kyla sat nearby, her eyes intently watching each droplet as it joined the steady stream entering Lisa's vein.

"You're suffering from severe hypoglycemia," Kyla said, momentarily glancing at her phone. "When was the last time you had something to eat?"

Lisa racked her brain. She recalled sipping a cup of tea the previous night, just before heading up to the rooftop. In the morning's turmoil, she'd skipped breakfast, and in her state of emotional chaos, lunch had been forgotten as well. No wonder she felt so drained and shaky.

"Last night," she replied, her voice faint.

"Excuse me?" Kyla's eyes widened in disbelief.

"The last time I ate was last night. And that was just a cup of tea," Lisa clarified.

Kyla shook her head, her eyes filled with concern. "Were you so overwhelmed that you forgot to eat because your tuition got canceled?"

"It's even worse than that," Lisa said, her voice tinged with fear and incredulity. "Some sketchy guys showed up at my apartment today. They claim my parents owe them three million dollars. A loan shark, can you believe it? How is that even possible?"

Kyla rubbed her temples, visibly puzzled. "That's bizarre. I've never heard of a loan shark around here dealing with that kind of money. There must be more to this story that you don't know."

Lisa sighed, her frustration palpable. "My life seems to be an endless parade of unexpected problems. I knew my family had some debt, but three million?"

Kyla pondered for a moment. "Given what you've told me, it's likely that these loan sharks have something to do with your missing tuition money."

Lisa nodded, her face ashen. "I suspect they're involved with some pretty dangerous groups, like the mob or the mafia. They were armed, so they're clearly a threat. But I have no solid evidence."

"So, you're working on a gut feeling?" Kyla raised an eyebrow.

"I know a shady character when I see one," Lisa asserted with conviction.

Kyla gently squeezed Lisa's hand. "Don't forget, you can always turn to me for support. You were there for me when our building was bombed." As she spoke, she lifted the hem of her pants to reveal a metallic prosthetic leg. "I owe you my life. Without your help, I might not be here today."

Navigating through what Kyla often called the "concrete jungle", the two of them had to flee from the devastated city of Milbank in Southern Cinderis. The echoing booms and smoke-filled skies haunted her memories. Kyla couldn't fathom how they'd managed to emerge alive from that apocalyptic scene. In the heart of the chaos, her entire combat platoon was wiped out—victims of indiscriminate bombings, which employed lethal thermobarics and other devastating explosives.

A collapsed building pinned Kyla's leg, crushing most of the bones beneath its weight. The air was thick with dust, making each breath a laborious task. Lisa, however, had narrowly escaped the worst of it. She bore gashes on her forehead, but they were far from life-threatening. Against all odds, they were the sole survivors of the Milbank disaster. If it weren't for their medical skills and Lisa's O- blood type, Kyla doubted she would have made it. It was Lisa, after all, who performed the emergency amputation on Kyla's leg, allowing her to be freed.

"I remember Milbank," Lisa mused, a distant look in her eyes. "Back when Federation support was minimal. It was hard to break through." The metallic scent of gunpowder still lingered in her memories. She recalled wielding a Mosin rifle while the communist forces flaunted their modern SV-98s, SVD-Ms, and OSVs. Eventually, she was upgraded to a M200 Cheytac from the Federation. Soon after, most of their antiquated equipment from the union era was retired.

It was the steady improvement in troop quality, backed by the Federation, that allowed the PGC to eventually reclaim the entire nation from the communist forces. The aftermath was a country scarred by war and heavily reliant on the Federation. But life resumed its pace, and everything went back to normal for most—except Lisa. The war had irrevocably altered the course of her life.

Luckily, Lisa found new allies and established bonds with members from her old and new platoons. Kyla, however, occupied a unique place in her life, serving as both an invaluable spotter on the field and a cherished friend off it.

Kyla's voice snapped Lisa back to reality. "I hope you don't mind, but I looked for your veteran ID card in your pockets. That way, the military will cover your hospital bill."

"Did you find it?" Lisa asked.

"Yes, it's all taken care of," Kyla assured her.

Lisa exhaled softly, visibly relieved. "Good to know."

Kyla's voice turned gentle. "Do you think you can walk? Maybe you should spend the night at your apartment, just to be safe."

"I think I'll manage," Lisa responded, appreciating the concern in her friend's voice.

Kyla reached over to press the call button, summoning a nurse to remove Lisa's IV. Lisa couldn't help but wonder how Kyla had managed to get her all the way from the university to the hospital. Knowing Kyla, she probably used her own car to avoid attracting the unwanted attention an ambulance would bring.

Shortly after, a nurse entered the room and carefully removed the IV from Lisa's arm, sealing the small puncture with a band-aid. "Don't forget to eat," she advised, handing Lisa the discharge papers to sign. Once the paperwork was complete, the nurse left, and Kyla assisted Lisa to her feet.

As they made their way out of the emergency ward, Lisa couldn't help but notice the bustling atmosphere of the hospital. It was a stark contrast to the eerily quiet medical facilities she remembered in MireWorld. Here, ambulances were in constant motion, ferrying patients from various parts of the country. Familiar doctors walked in and out of the hospital, adding to the sense of urgency and life.

In the parking lot, Kyla's Tahoe awaited them. It looked as aged as Lisa's Camry but was by no means as ancient as Burns' 1998 Corolla. What puzzled her, though, was that Kyla had been driving a brand-new Accord the last time they'd met.

"Is this a new car?" Lisa inquired as Kyla opened the passenger side door for her.

"No, it's my dad's," Kyla explained, helping Lisa into the seat. "He's borrowing the Accord for now. Oh, and that box of rice on the dashboard is for you."

"I see," Lisa responded, grateful for the meal but also quietly piecing together the ever-changing tapestry of their complicated lives.

As Kyla turned the ignition, the Tahoe's 4.8L V8 engine came to life with a gentle rumble. The sound was comforting, a soothing antidote to the stress and uncertainty that had marked Lisa's day. As they drove, the city lights outside wove a luminous tableau, mirroring the restless energy of the world beyond the car windows.

Kyla navigated the streets expertly, passing late-night diners with their welcoming glow, neon-lit convenience stores, and the occasional lone pedestrian hurrying home. Neither spoke, allowing the hum of the engine and the faint sounds of the city to serve as their soundtrack. The only other noise was the occasional crunch of rice as Lisa ate.

Before long, they arrived at Lisa's apartment complex. Kyla smoothly parked the Tahoe and helped Lisa out of the vehicle. They made their way towards the stairs, and Lisa felt a pang of relief that Kyla hadn't seen the hidden machine gun in her apartment. With a wave, Lisa said her goodbyes and retreated to her living space.

Dumping her backpack onto the sofa, she picked up her phone. Having unexpectedly passed out for an indeterminate amount of time earlier, she felt an itch to explore the Portable Armory app. She hoped it offered a way to securely stash her arsenal, including that conspicuous, bullet-riddled car parked downstairs. The absence of Burns also weighed on her mind, igniting her concerns. The lawless MireWorld seemed increasingly tempting, but she had no intention of venturing there unprepared.

Lisa headed for her closet and pulled out her old combat uniform, removing all of its Velcro name tags. She changed into it, lacing up her boots tightly. Over it, she donned the ballistic vest Burns had given her and secured a helmet onto her head. Slinging the heavy machine gun and a pistol over her back, she felt like she was carrying an elephant. Then again, this was nothing compared to the regular combat supply she brought on a long-term operation.

Finally, she grabbed her rugged assault backpack and started filling it with essentials: non-perishable food, bottles of water, and a generous supply of power banks. Prepared as she could be, she felt a touch more secure but also profoundly aware of the challenges that lay ahead.

She then opened the app. 

[Enter MireWorld]

Four options appeared just right before her eyes.

Add New Equipment : Yes

[Return To Last Position]

[Equip Last Items & Return To Last Position]

[Keep Position]

[Equip Last Items & Keep Position]

Shaking her head to clear her doubts, Lisa pressed the button [Equip Last Items & Return To Last Position]. The familiar sensation of transitioning between worlds overtook her, and within moments, she found herself back in the strange, desolate version of her hospital parking lot. She sat down behind the steering wheel of Burns' bullet-ridden Corolla. 

Only one question remained. 

Where's Burns?