The sky glowed a warm orange, casting its hue over the world as Lisa stepped into the car. Still feeling a bit woozy from her hospital visit, she was nonetheless grateful to be in a much better state than she had been when she left her apartment earlier. Her tactical backpack and various weapons lay on the backseat—shifted from their usual position on her back, but that could simply be a design feature of the app itself.

Just then, a notification popped up. But this time, it wasn't on her phone or any other device; it appeared subtly within her field of vision, off to the side.

[300$] has been added to your account. HUD is unlocked for notifications. Please check the Diagnostic Screen 

"This world just keeps getting stranger," Lisa muttered to herself.

She reopened the application, and was greeted by a revamped interface. Gone was the rudimentary text-based display she had seen before. Now, six sleek boxes popped up on the screen, each featuring an image that represented its respective function. It was clear that the user interface had undergone some significant changes since she last accessed the app.

[Welcome, Contractor Elenhard] [BB: 300$]

[Diagnostic Menu]

[Items & Logistic Department Interface]

[Contacts] [3]

[Job Trackers]

[Storage & Loadout]

[Exit Mireworld]

Next, Lisa tapped on the diagnostic menu. The status screen that appeared had a decidedly video game-like feel to it, complete with menus for skills and proficiency. She wasn't entirely sure what practical use those sections might have, but figured they were a nice touch nonetheless. What really caught her attention, though, was the general health status screen. It seemed incredibly thorough and she was impressed by its detail.

[Diagnostic Menu] [Lvl. 2] [No Available Skill To Unlock]

Name: Lisa Elenhard

General Health Status: Almost Healthy

Status: Recovering from Hypoglycemia.

Skills and Proficiencies:

• Medical First Aid: Lv.10 (Better Healing From Medical Items)
• Marksmanship: Lv.15 (Increased Accuracy & Range of any Scoped Rifle)
• Social Engineering: Lv. 8 (Easier Time To Convince & Scare People)

Closing the diagnostic menu, Lisa's curiosity shifted to the contact screen. It had to be more than just a carbon copy of her phone's contact list, right? Upon opening it, she saw that she had three new messages: two from Burns and one from someone named A.

Burns: "I noticed you knocked out on that hospital bench. Didn’t feel right waking you—figured you'd find your way out of MireWorld when you were ready."

Burns: "Got a bit concerned seeing you out cold like that. When you're up, give me a shout. By the way, saw your friend helping you out. Everything okay?"

Burns was already out of the hospital? Lisa was impressed by the speed of the medical pod's work. No broken bones could hold Burns back, it seemed. But then again, the pod looked like something straight out of a sci-fi movie.

She initiated a call to Burns using the internal messaging menu. When he picked up, his voice was a comforting blend of casualness and sincere concern. "Lisa? It's been a while. How are you feeling?"

Collecting her thoughts, Lisa exhaled a slow, deliberate breath. "Eventful is one way to put it. I'm not great, but I'm managing. Where are you?"

A soft chuckle emanated from Burns' end, tinged with a sigh of relief. "I'm taking a break, actually. Just sitting outside Dunkin' Donuts with a latte that reminds me why the simple things in life are worth savoring. Want to meet up? Could use some company."

Weighing her options, Lisa responded, her voice conveying a mixture of fatigue and lightness. "As tempting as that sounds, I've got something to take care of first. You remember your beat-up Corolla? The one that looks like it survived a war zone? I need to drop it off. Can you meet me at the university hospital in MireWorld?"

There was a brief pause, followed by the faint sound of a chair scraping against the floor. Burns was clearly already getting up. "Absolutely, I’ll be right there. See you in a jiffy, Lisa."

Up until yesterday, Burns had always seemed pretty straightforward to Lisa—just your average computer science student from a well-off background. She'd never associated him with the military, let alone seen any evidence of him having combat experience. But yesterday had shattered that perception. Burns had proven to be every bit as competent in live combat as Lisa, if not more so. This was a jarring contrast to the tech-savvy, somewhat nerdy persona he usually presented. Could he be part of the Electronic Warfare Combat Group? It was a possibility, but one she realized she might never confirm.

As Lisa waited in the parking lot of the university hospital within the confines of MireWorld, she noticed the sky transition from its warm orange glow to deeper shades of crimson. The air grew cooler, and the diminishing light lent a contemplative atmosphere to her thoughts.

Her reverie was interrupted by the distant rumble of an engine. As she turned toward the sound, Burns managed to surprise her yet again.

Motherfucker… is he always this… rich?

Lisa had always assumed that the Corolla was Burns' primary, if not only, car. He drove it everywhere— to the university, to the clinic, and for casual outings. It seemed practical, unassuming, and entirely in line with his laid-back personality. But the car that rolled into the parking lot now was anything but average. It was a top-of-the-line BMW, the kind of vehicle that screamed luxury and opulence.

As the driver's side window rolled down smoothly, Burns came into view. He was dressed in a formal suit, looking completely unlike his typical casual, tech-savvy self. Once again, he'd managed to upend her expectations, adding another layer of complexity to his already puzzling persona.

"Hey, Lisa, how are you? You look... different. Get in," Burns greeted, his eyes locking onto hers briefly.

As she walked around to the back of the dark gray sedan, she couldn't shake off the aura of affluence that seemed to cling to the vehicle. Opening the back door, she slid into a seat that felt like it was hugging her, enveloping her in luxury. The soft hum of jazz music emanated from the car's high-end infotainment system. She found herself wondering how Burns could afford all this. Contract work in MireWorld?

"So, do you like my car?" Burns asked, his tone tinged with an eagerness for affirmation.

Lisa couldn't help but voice her skepticism. "I'm more curious about how you can afford this. This is a BMW i7, right? This thing's a small fortune. No average computer science student has the cash for this—unless you've got a sugar mommy who's married to some mafia boss or cartel leader."

Burns laughed, a light, unburdened sound. "Fair enough. Anyway, I've been doing some digging on you," he said, handing her a dossier from the front seat to where she was sitting in the back.

Intrigued yet wary, Lisa opened it up. "Impressive, really impressive,"

Burns continued. "I had a hunch you'd be the experienced combat medic I was looking for. You go by the name Spectre, right?"

"Spectre? Who the hell is that?" Lisa asked, genuinely confused. She'd never been given that kind of tactical call sign. Her code names usually related to medical terms, ranging from the simple 'Doc' to more specialized ones like 'Amox.'

"You," Burns said, his tone final.

"Great, now I've got a stalker," Lisa muttered sarcastically, her eyes narrowing as she began to sift through the dossier.

Lisa carefully opened the dossier, her fingers brushing against the smooth cover as she began flipping through the pages. To say she was taken aback would be an understatement. She had always assumed her military records were sealed, if not heavily redacted for the sake of national security.

The first page bore a black-and-white photo of her from a few years ago, eyes forward and steely. The familiar logo of her former division was stamped at the bottom corner. Her full name, date of birth, and numerous other personal details filled the page.

The subsequent pages held detailed accounts of her missions, commendations, and even personal notes from her commanding officers with most of the details blacked out as redacted. She paused when she came across a mission she remembered all too vividly – a covert op in Southeastern Cinderis where she was approached by a special force liaison. It was there she had demonstrated an unique blend medical expertise, sheer willingness, and combat efficiency. Reading the account, she stumbled upon the section that discussed the mission’s code names.

Operative Designations:

• Raven & Bingo: Extraction Specialist and Infiltration Expert (1st SOD - DASG-45)
• Ghost & Flash: Combat Engineer & Navigation Specialist (1st SOD, SSDD-45)
• Spectre & Guardian: Field Medic, Human Resource, and Overwatch (24th AAR)

She whispered to herself, “Spectre… so that's where it came from.”

She continued flipping, occasionally pausing to absorb the weight of certain memories. There were pages about her borderline suicidal maneuvers to rescue the gravely injured Ghost & Flash from an ambush, and even a few instances where she and Guardian (Kyla) maneuvered as a distraction. Still, she was lucky the dossier didn’t give out the full story.

"What the hell, Burns? How did you get your hands on this?" Lisa asked, trying to keep the rising edge out of her voice.

Burns glanced at her through the rearview mirror. “Lisa, in the MireWorld, information is as good as gold. Let’s just say I have my ways. You should know, though, that this was not out of ill intent. I wanted to understand the potential of the people I work with.”

“By violating their privacy?” she countered.

He sighed. “I get it, you have every right to be mad. But understand this, the MireWorld is not just a game. The contracts, the battles – they mirror real-world stakes and dangers, even though they aren’t that real. Knowing my team's potential, their strengths, and weaknesses is vital. And you, Lisa, or should I say, Spectre, are a critical part of this.”

Lisa reclined into the comfortable seat, processing what he said. She still wasn’t okay with Burns snooping into her past, but she could appreciate the logic. In this weird, meshed reality of MireWorld and the real world, understanding one's team went beyond knowing their favorite drink or birthday.

"How much did you pay for this?" Lisa asked, setting the heavily redacted document beside her on the seat.

"A lot," Burns replied, his eyes still on the road.

"How much is 'a lot' in numerical terms?" Lisa pressed, her curiosity piqued.

"Somewhere north of twenty grand," he confessed.

"And yet, all you get is the redacted version," Lisa said, a trace of amusement lacing her voice.

Burns chuckled. "Fair point. So, now that you know you're Spectre, how does it feel?"

Lisa considered his question for a moment. "Empowering, in a way. It's like discovering a part of myself I didn't even know existed. But seriously, Burns, if you're going to go snooping into someone's past, maybe ask them first?"

He nodded, taking her point to heart. "Fair enough, Spectre."

"Just call me Lisa, okay?" she requested, rolling her eyes slightly.

"Fine by me," Burns agreed, his voice tinged with relief.

Lisa then reached forward to tap his shoulder gently. "And Burns?"

He turned slightly to look at her. "Yes?"

"I need your help."