James sat behind the wheel of his car, fingers tapping idly against the steering wheel as the convoy rumbled down the cracked remnants of an old highway. The road stretched before them, broken and uneven, lined with overgrown weeds and the rusted skeletons of abandoned vehicles. The sun beat down hard, casting long shadows across the asphalt, heat rising in shimmering waves.

  Beside him, in the passenger seat, sat a trader named Ellis, acting as navigator. He was in his early thirties, lean and sharp-eyed, with a rifle resting across his lap and a nervous energy about him.

  “You’ve done escort work before?” Ellis asked, breaking the silence.

  James smirked, eyes never leaving the road. “More times than I can count.”

  Ellis exhaled, shifting in his seat. “Good. These roads are worse than they used to be. A few years back, the biggest worry was mutant wildlife or the occasional desperate scavenger. Now?” He shook his head. “Now, everyone’s trying to carve out their own little kingdom. Bandits, warlords, rogue mercs… it’s a mess.”

  James just nodded. He had seen it firsthand. The weaker the main players were, the more desperate people became. Lawless lands bred lawless men. And James? He was always for it. The crazier the place, the more jobs they had to offer.

  The convoy stretched behind them—six large trucks loaded with goods, flanked by a handful of smaller vehicles carrying guards. They were making decent progress, but James knew that could change in an instant.

  And then it did.

  Ellis tensed beside him. “Shit. Roadblock.”

  James slowed the car, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight ahead. A group of armed men had set up a makeshift barricad husks of old vehicles stacked across the road, wooden spikes jutting out like jagged teeth. Behind the cover stood twelve men, all armed, all watching the convoy approach.

  James exhaled through his nose. Here we go.

  He pulled the car to a stop, the rest of the convoy slowing behind him. Before Ellis could say anything, James was already opening the door.

  “Stay in the car,” James said, voice calm but firm.

  Ellis frowned. “What are you—”

  “I’ll handle it.”

  James stepped out, boots crunching against the dry earth as he adjusted his jacket. His 1911 rested on his hip, his HK416 slung across his back. But he didn’t reach for either. Not yet.

  The leader of the raiders—a tall, wiry man with a shaved head and a long scar running down his cheek—stepped forward, grinning like a man who thought he had already won.

  “Well, well,” the man drawled. “Quite the convoy you got here.”

  James stopped a few feet away, hands resting casually at his sides. “And you’re in my way.”

  The raiders chuckled, a few of them shifting their grips on their weapons.

  The leader smirked. “See, that’s where we have a problem. This road? It’s under new management. You wanna pass, you pay a toll.”

  James arched his brow. “That so?”

  “Yeah. Say… half of whatever’s in those trucks ought to do it.”

  James let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Half?” He sighed. “You’re either stupid, desperate, or both.”

  The leader’s grin faltered. “Watch your mouth, pal.”

  James took a slow step forward, eyes locking onto the man’s. “No. You watch.”

  Silence hung between them.

  Then the leader chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, tough guy. Maybe you don’t get how this works. You’re outnumbered, and I got men in high places.” He jerked his head toward the ridges flanking the road, where snipers could be positioned. “If things go bad, you and your whole convoy are dead.”

  James exhaled. “You talk too much.”

  Before the raider could react, James drew his 1911, pressed it under the man's chin, and fired.

  The .45-caliber durasteel round obliterated the man’s head, turning it into a fine red mist. One second, he was talking—the next, he wasn’t.

  His body crumpled before his brain even had time to process that he was dead.

  For a heartbeat, there was nothing but silence.

  Then—chaos.

  The raiders barely had time to process what had happened before James ripped the leader’s rifle from his falling body and turned it on them.

  Crack-crack-crack.

  The first three went down before they even raised their weapons.

  A man to his right fumbled with his shotgun. Too slow.

  James swung the stolen rifle like a club, the stock cracking into the raider’s face with a sickening crunch. Teeth and blood sprayed as the man collapsed in a heap.

  Another one tried to flank him. James pivoted and put a round into his throat.

  The man dropped his gun, clutching at the gaping wound, choking on his own blood.

  The remaining raiders panicked.

  Two of them tried to run.

  James didn’t let them.

  He fired two quick shots, hitting both square in the back. They crashed into the dirt, twitching before going still.

  The last man standing dropped his weapon and raised his hands.

  James lowered the rifle slightly.

  The man stared at him, eyes wide with fear.

  “P-please, man. I—”

  James shot him. Once.

  He fell.

  Silence returned.

  James exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he let the rifle drop from his hands. The scent of gunpowder, blood, and death filled the air.

  He turned back to the convoy, where Ellis and the others were still sitting in their vehicles, watching in stunned silence.

  James walked back, sliding into the driver’s seat like nothing had happened.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Ellis finally swallowed. “Jesus Christ.”

  James adjusted his grip on the wheel. “Told you I’d handle it.”

  And with that, the convoy moved on.

  The convoy rumbled toward the city, a fortress of steel and order standing defiantly against the world. From a distance, James could already tell that this was similar to Norfolk—but with key differences.

  The walls were towering, reinforced, and industrial, meant to withstand sieges, artillery, and anything short of an orbital strike or a nuke. Not that many had those anymore. The steel plating was thick, layered, and seamlessly welded, creating a solid barrier engineered for war. Watchtowers lined the perimeter, each equipped with rotary turrets, anti-vehicle cannons, and automated targeting systems.

  And above it all—the drones.

  James counted at least a dozen in his immediate line of sight, their mechanical forms buzzing through the sky like silent sentinels. Their movements were sharp, methodical, and controlled. Some were small, agile scouting models, scanning everything from incoming traffic to individual heat signatures, while others were heavily armored quad-rotor gunships, the kind that could level an entire squad in seconds.

  They weren’t just for show. CAI wasn’t taking any chances.

  Now that James thought about it, CAI could probably take over the entire Florida Peninsula if they wanted to. With their organization, resources, and firepower, they could wipe out the smaller groups and independent settlements, turning Florida into a fully corporate-controlled zone. He wondered why the didn’t

  The convoy approached the checkpoint, slowing as a squad of armored guards moved toward the lead truck.

  Their uniforms were old UCOA military gear, similar in design and function to EHD forces, but instead of the imposing black and gray colors. Theirs were digital camouflage, a relic from before the world burned. Their helmets were sleek, reinforced, and built for battlefield communication.

  The traders exchanged a few words with the guards. Papers were checked, weapons inspected, and after a brief pause, the guards gave them a nod—they were clear.

  James followed, his car rolling past the massive steel gate as it groaned shut behind them.

  Inside the walls, the city was alive.

  Unlike Norfolk, where people moved with dull routine, the citizens here were focused, determined, and surprisingly happy The roads were clean and well-maintained, reinforced with concrete and metal plating instead of the usual cracked asphalt and rubble-strewn paths. The buildings weren’t slapped-together scavenged ruins but solid pre-war structures, some even reinforced and upgraded with modern materials.

  Technology thrived here.

  Signs flickered above storefronts, advertising everything from cybernetic implants to power cells. Streetlights functioned properly, running on a dedicated power grid. James figured CAI had a fully operational power plant somewhere nearby. Large holographic billboards looped old-world CAI commercials alongside new propaganda, reinforcing the company’s dominance and commitment to "restoring civilization."

  People walked freely, merchants calling out to passersby, workers in corporate uniforms loading cargo onto autonomous trucks, while security forces patrolled in tight formations, he saw many people stop them and give them gifts or food. They were keeping order and the people were happy to see them. That was rare.

  James took it all in.

  It was like stepping back in time.

  He didn’t linger at the checkpoint, quickly driving the convoy through the inner districts to their designated warehouse. The traders offloaded their cargo, visibly relieved to have made the trip without losses. James shook a few hands, took his payment, and stepped away from the group, heading into the heart of the city.

  As he walked, he couldn’t shake the contrast between this place and Norfolk.

  Maybe it was the weather, the warm Florida air giving the city a different energy. Or maybe CAI’s leadership actually knew how to run a city. Or the fact that they weren't preparing for a war.

  Before the war, CAI had always been the “friendly” megacorporation. While SDS and Helix built private armies and produced military technology for the government. The CAI had invested in charities, refugee programs, and humanitarian projects.

  At least, that’s what the old records claimed.

  James drove through the well-lit streets, weaving between autonomous transport vehicles and late-night foot traffic. For the first time since he left Norfolk , he wasn’t looking for a shack with a decent roof or a rundown inn where he had to sleep with one eye open. He was in a real city again. He could get a real bed.

  His mind wandered for a moment, remembering that not all the nights on his journey here were unpleasant. That brought a smirk to his face.

  Then he found the “Venus Heights Hotel.”

  The building was sleek, modern, and polished. The exterior was lined with white marble and reinforced glass, glowing subtly under the city's artificial lighting. The three-story structure stood tall and proud, pristine and untouched by war.

  James parked, locked his car, and stepped through the automated sliding doors into a cool, air-conditioned lobby.

  The inside was just as impressive.

  The floor was polished stone, reflecting the soft white and blue lighting from the ceiling. A massive chandelier of pre-war crystal hung in the center, casting soft patterns across the walls. The front desk was lined with gold trim, giving it an air of old-world wealth.

  To the right, a lounge bar was filled with well-dressed patrons, some laughing over drinks, others discussing business. On the left, a set of elevators gleamed, leading up to the luxurious private rooms.

  James sighed in satisfaction.

  Then he saw the line.

  At least six people ahead of him, all waiting for check-in. James stepped into place behind two men both armed, both clearly mercs. He recognized the look instantly.

  One of them, a burly man with a cybernetic arm, glanced at him. “You new here?”

  James smirked. “Just arrived.”

  The other merc, leaner, with a rifle slung across his back, gave him a nod. “First time in Ocala?”

  James nodded. “Yeah. Heard the city’s got work. That true?”

  The burly one chuckled. “Oh, there’s work, alright. CAI’s got contracts for days—security, escorts, bounty retrieval, you name it. Pay’s decent too, but they don’t take just anyone. They like their people to be reliable.”

  James filed that away. He had no problem proving himself.

  The line moved forward.

  The burly merc scoffed. “Just don’t get on the bad side of Helix. They’ve been trying to muscle in on CAI’s turf for a while now.”

  James raised an eyebrow. “Helix has that much influence here?”

  The lean one shrugged. “Not officially. But their people show up. Mostly black market deals, cyberware enhancements, that kinda thing. CAI doesn’t shut ‘em down completely—they like to keep things clean, but they can’t be everywhere.”

  James nodded slowly. Interesting.

  Finally, he reached the front desk.

  Behind it stood a young woman, maybe mid-twenties, with auburn hair tied neatly into a ponytail. She had sharp hazel eyes, a well-fitted suit jacket, and just the right amount of charm in her posture. Professional. Efficient. And judging by the way she scanned him up and down before offering a smile a little intrigued.

  “Welcome to Venus Heights,” she said, her voice smooth. “Are you checking in for the night or looking for an extended stay?”

  James leaned on the counter slightly, smirking. “Longer than a night. I’ll be here for about a month.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “A month? We don’t have many mercs staying that long in a single stretch. Business or pleasure?”

  James chuckled. “We’ll see maybe a bit of both” James smiled ( But i doubt I'll be here every night just need a place I can come back to.”

  Her lips quirked upward slightly, but she kept her tone professional. “Alright, Mr…”

  “Grayson.”

  “Mr. Grayson,” she repeated, typing into her system. “We have several room options available. Our standard suites come with climate control, reinforced locks, and private security access. If you’d like something more upscale, we offer executive suites with enhanced privacy measures, soundproofing, and access to our VIP lounge. All rooms come with complimentary meals, a fitness center, and full room service.”

  James nodded. “Sounds nice. And the currency?”

  “We take CAI credits.”

  James clicked his tongue “ Can I convert SDS credit here”

  She gave him an apologetic look. “I’m afraid not.”

  James sighed internally. That meant he’d have to take a contract soon.

  Still, he kept his smile easy. “Well, I guess I’ll have to make some local money, then.”

  She smirked slightly. “Seems like you can handle that just fine.”

  He chuckled, tapping his fingers against the counter. “I’ll take an executive suite.”

  She nodded, processing the transaction, then handed him a keycard. “Room Twelve-A. Top floor, end of the hall.”

  James took it.. “Appreciate it.”

  She arched a brow, but before she could say anything else, James turned and made his way toward the elevators.

  The ride up was silent, smooth, and efficient.

  His room?

  Even better.

  The door slid open with a quiet chime, revealing a space that might’ve once belonged in a corporate executive tower.

  A king-sized bed dominated the center, draped in pristine white sheets. A floor-to-ceiling window overlooked the city, showing the distant lights flickering in the skyline. The walls were lined with reinforced panels, offering both privacy and security.

  A fully stocked minibar sat against the wall, next to a sleek workstation. The bathroom, visible through an open door, had actual running water and a high-end shower system.

  James set his bag down, rolling his shoulders.

  Finally.

  He stepped over to the window, gazing out at the city below.

  Tomorrow, he’d start looking for work.

  Tonight?

  He had a real bed for the first time in weeks.

  Might as well enjoy it.