Journey to Elvander

Battle in the Tall Grass

Deacon, Ragnar, and now Ashe rushed on the road hoping to get some kind of distance to get out of the tree line from where they were camped out to carry on Ragnar's mission of getting to Elvander to deliver the fuel cell that was smuggled out of Shadow Cannon's headquarters. Now with Ashe's giant rifle, they had power from a distance, but Deacon has yet to see how her aiming was so it was all assumptions for him.

The flat road began to look more endless than before. At this rate, Elvander was starting to look more like a Shangri-La than an actual country.

"Have you fired that thing before?" Deacon broke silence.

"Yeah, enough times to say that I can handle anything." Ashe proudly inspected her rifle.

Deacon gulped nervously since he barely dodged a bullet from the same gun she was happily holding.

Shouldn't have asked. Deacon thought to himself.

The road ahead was surrounded by tall grass on both sides; almost began to look like a miniature forest, almost like a spawn of the previous forest they just got out of.

"Where are we?" Deacon sighed at the long walk.

"You never crossed the border, have you?" Ashe scoffed.

"Nope, never. First time. Is it obvious?" Deacon felt like a kid trying to convince his parents as to why he has a bottle of liquor inside his backpack.

"We're in Washir, a pocket-country." Ashe sighed.

"Pocket-country?"

"That's what we call a country that isn't big enough to play with the big boys and is usually last pick when it comes to World Wars. This war, they haven't been picked yet."

"So then, Ragnar is fine here then?" Deacon looked at his giant partner.

"Consider Washir, a neutral country until they get picked by either Shadow Cannon or Elvander."

"That's one way to handle politics, I guess."

"No kidding." Ashe smirked.

"How many cities does Washir have?"

"Three."

"Explains the last pick." Deacon chuckled, but Ragnar whirred, not understanding the joke. Deacon's smile was cut short thanks to the robot's lack of a sense of humor and cleared his throat to try to smoothly avoid the awkwardness.

"Are you sure you aren't a comedian?" Ashe sarcastically asked.

Deacon cleared his throat again, "Shut up."

"Let's just focus on this road and we'll get to the capital, Ether then we can take the hyperloop to Elvander."

"A hyperloop? Are you sure?" Deacon looked at Ragnar, scanning its height. "Is there a height limit?"

"I'm pretty sure we can put the big guy in the cargo hold." Ashe turned to examine Ragnar as well.

"Luckily, I have some cash."

"You crossed the border wall, so that would mean you're from Cille, right?" Ashe connected the dots.

"Yeah, how'd you guess?" Deacon asked.

"Someone with your looks definitely screams 'Cille'." Ashe answered with full-impact honesty.

"I...uhh... Thank you?"

"Wasn't a compliment." Ashe's honesty struck again.

It's okay, just words. Deacon winced in silence.