The sun was like an unforgiving branding iron over the ground. Gale's arms and throat burned, the covering around her face provided little protection from the relentless temperature. Her fiery-red pigtails clung to the nape of her neck.

The country surrounding them was littered with thorny bushes, jagged rock outcroppings, and ancient ruins whose shadows taunted even the bravest explorers. It was as unforgiving as Gale's piercing green eyes when the situation required it.

Her thoughts drifted to the man she was parlaying with. Omar Baymatov, the Uzbek warlord, was undoubtedly one of her most astute adversaries. He was the type of man who could sense the shift in the air when the predator lurking in the corner of a room moved for the kill. In some ways, it was endearing, an intellect that matched her own. He had evaded contact for years despite her relentless attempts during the last three.

A wicked grin spread across Gale's ruby-red lips as the troop transport's wheels crunched over patches of sand and rock. Every line, wrinkle, and callous on Omar's body seemed to document tales of the irreprehensible acts required to rule in such a merciless landscape.

Omar leaned towards her, resecuring the burlap sack over her head again. "A thousand pardons, but we have enemies that would love nothing more than to see the head of Omar Baymatov rolling in the sand," he said with an eerie calmness. "And I'm afraid, Gale, you will have to indulge me this little precaution until we arrive at our safe haven." Gale reacted with the slightest hint of displeasure at the obstruction of her vision.

She humored him with a light-hearted response, "Old habits die hard, Omar, but your foresight is commendable." The nuances of her voice played with his senses. The power and confidence held within the cadence only fueled Omar's bitterness.

A discomforting silence fell between them as the transport's engine thrummed over the hundreds of miles of nothingness. The anticipation of the impending battle of wits between the two cunning adversaries was palpable, and the knowing tension sparked like a lit fuse.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it Fräulein?" Omar 's voice cut through the tense air, breaking the silence like a blade against a stone.

Gale's body tensed subtly, and her hand moved to the empty holster at her side, "What’s three years, between friends?" She tempered her words like a master blacksmith, molding the right mood.

The wind outside howled and whipped against the vehicle, possessing an almost human groan as it caressed the armored shell. Amidst the cacophony, Omar's low, rumbling laugh grew in volume. He acknowledged her not-so-veiled threat, inching closer, his sly grin nearly visible through the covering of the sack.

"When I was informed that you were actively seeking me, I didn't believe it at first." Omar mused. He paused for a moment before continuing, "Imagine my delight when I discovered the depth of your newfound abilities! I must admit my curiosity was piqued, Gale. Tell me, what brings you to me?"

"When my little birdies told me that you rose from an Uzbek spy stationed in East Berlin to an Afghani Warlord, I knew we were destined to meet again." Gale 's words weaved through the muffled air; a crooked yet nonthreatening smile played at the edges of her lips hidden under the veil of her covering.

The gentle whistling of the wind outside seemed to acknowledge her words as the transport continued navigating through the endless sea of sand dunes and unforgiving terrain. Omar leaned back in his chair, a low chuckle rattling deep within his chest.

"Ah, Gale, my dear, it seems fate knew to bring us back together in this desolate place. What makes you believe I have information worth sharing?" His voice was thick with curiosity and longing, as if the answer may grant him entrance to a world he'd never known.

Gale's body shifted through the rough burlap of her concealment. "Oh, Omar. We've been through this song and dance before. How could I not have high expectations from you? I don't want information; I want a partnership." She let her voice linger in the air, seductively trailing her words. "I want to join your quest. I have resources, and the power to do what no other could accomplish."

Gale delivered her proposal, as she did her threats - powerfully and irresistibly. An ominous air weighted the transport as it swayed, carried by the wind through an endless expanse of sand.

Omar mocked her words, allowing them to linger in the air, suspended like a poisonous fog. "You know I have many resources, Gale, and the power to accomplish greatness. What could you possibly offer that I cannot get myself? Or do you merely believe yourself an irreplaceable ally?"

His words were coated with a seamless mixture of insinuation and fact, tension resurfacing once more. A sudden silence filled the cabin; not even the engine granted respite from the thickening atmosphere.

"I owe you Omar, for making me what I am today." Gale offered with the sincerity she deemed necessary to keep her partner in crime interested. "Until our last encounter, I was but a pawn of fate, unaware of the strength that simmered beneath my surface."

Their shared history left a trail of resentment, bound by intrigue and unrest. In the intervening years, Gale's involvement with the criminal underworld had intensified, her appetite for darker uses of her powers growing with every vile step.

Omar's figure shifted in the dim light. His Makarov cradled in his hands; his knuckles bleached white as he held on tightly.

"Stop! Stop the vehicle! Everybody out!" Omar 's command echoed through the cabin, his voice cracking through the tension like a whip.

Instantly, several armed men leaped out of the transport, creating a protective circle around Omar as it came to a grinding halt. Her heart skipped a beat, but years of experience managing fear instilled a level of calmness in Gale that couldn't be shaken – or so she believed. The heatwave from the valley floor filtered in through the cracks of the vehicle. Gale's heart raced as she felt the dust-covered floor beneath her military boots, trying to steady her nerves.

A pair of thick, heavy boots crunched through the sand, halting just outside the doors. A familiar musky cologne swirled through the cabin, conjuring up memories of their many encounters over the years.

"I have missed our little chats, Fräulein." Omar's voice was just inches from her ear, rippling with layers of power and curiosity. "But it ends, now. Your, how you say, 'little birdies' told me everything."

Out of the bed of the transport climbed three men. Gale knew by simply the sound of their footfalls and cadence who they were: Johannes Crowe, Vincent Galvani, Michael King. Gale's compatriots, or so she had assumed.

Omar continued with a sweaty, toothy grin, "For instance, they told me you cannot displace yourself, if you cannot see." He paused for a moment, allowing the weight of the words to fully set in.

Gale bit her lower lip, the implications of his knowledge made her mind race. Her heart thumped in her chest. She thought about her years of dedication to harnessing her talents. She considered how she'd trusted the right people to help her achieve her dreams...