"Come on, Z! Let's go!" Shirley called out, his hand still outstretched.
"No," Sage said firmly behind him. "Stay here, Mascot."
ZE210's head darted between the two—the friend who believed in him, and the man who once saved him. Then he spoke, his voice shaky but determined.
"You both want to defeat CORE, right?"
That made them pause.
The tension in the air thickened as Shirley and Sage looked at him, their expressions unrelenting.
"Then why not work together?" ZE210 continued. "Their strength, their powers… combined with yer resources and army—we'd stand hell of a chance. This doesn't have to be a fight between us. We all want the same thing."
A long silence followed.
Then, slowly, Sage glanced at Shirley. Shirley met his gaze. No words. Just a moment of silent understanding.
"I suppose…" Sage muttered. "We could make it work."
Shirley cracked a small grin. "Glad to hear it."
He stepped forward, extended his hand—not in threat, but in alliance.
Sage stared at it for a beat… then stepped forward and gripped it.
"Since this is your first time here," Sage said with a faint smirk, "how about Mascot shows you around?"
ZE210 lit up. "Don't worry, y'all—I'll take you through every nook and cranny of this place!" he beamed, practically bouncing on his heels.
The group chuckled and started following him.
As they walked, Tucker leaned in toward Shirley and muttered, "What the hell does 'nook and cranny' even mean?"
Shirley snorted. "Beats me. But hey—we're getting a tour, so I'm not complaining."
Tucker smirked and shrugged, picking up the pace to catch up with ZE210, who was already chattering ahead with excitement.
ZE210 marched proudly ahead, arms swinging like he was leading some type of parade.
"To yer left," he said, pointing dramatically at a towering metal structure, "is the Watch Tower. It used to be part of an old CORE outpost, but now it's our lookout spot. Best view in the whole zone—unless yer scared of heights. Then maybe… don't go up there."
He winked back at the group.
They kept walking, the ground crunching beneath their shoes. The base was a mix of repurposed ruins and makeshift buildings, patched together with scavenged metal, tarps, rocks, and cables. It was messy—but alive.
"This here," ZE210 continued, stopping in front of a dome-shaped bunker, "is the Armory. Don't touch anything unless yer tryna lose a finger—or accidentally start a small war."
Doug raised a brow. "He's jokin', right?"
ZE210 didn't answer. He just grinned and moved on.
Shirley chuckled. "Yeah, we're definitely stealing that kid for tour guide duty everywhere we go."
Next, ZE210 led them through a winding path to an open courtyard where a few Resistance members were training—some sparring, others practicing with glowing tech.
"This is the Yard," ZE210 said. "Sage trains the elite here. If you ever tryna feel like a punching bag, sign up."
One of the sparring fighters heard that and gave a thumbs-up. "We'll go easy on you. Maybe."
The group laughed. Even Sage, walking silently in the back, cracked the slightest smirk.
Then, ZE210 stopped in front of a modest, stone building with light pouring from the windows.
"And this… is the Mess Hall," he announced. "Second most important stop of the tour. Best soup you'll ever eat after a week of surviving on ration bars."
Madison peeked in through the window. "Smells better than it looks."
ZE210 clapped his hands together. "And that concludes your official Resistance tour. Questions?"
Shirley ruffled his hair. "You're alright, Z."
Then he paused, glanced over his shoulder, and added, "Oh! Almost forgot."
He jogged a few steps ahead and waved them toward a narrow hallway carved into the side of a rocky slope.
"One last spot. Not many people get to see this," he said, his voice lowering slightly.
The group followed him through the dim corridor until they reached a thick, metallic door. ZE210 pushed it open with both hands.
Inside was a silent, stone chamber. Nothing lined the walls. No furniture. No windows.
Just one thing stood in the center of the room:
A single, blue glowing orb floating a few feet above the ground, pulsing faintly with light and engraved in the words "CORE".
The group stood frozen, instinctively quiet.
ZE210 took a step back and let the others move in. "Yeah… this one's special," he muttered.
Then he fell silent.
Micheal, Shirley, and Tucker turned first, catching him approaching from the shadows at the back of the chamber.
Sage's footsteps were soft—but not soft enough to escape sharp instincts.
"I see some of you are more alert than the rest," Sage said, his voice echoing just slightly off the cold stone walls. His gaze settled on the three who had noticed him. "Good instincts."
He stepped closer to the floating orb, its faint blue glow dancing across his face.
"What you're seeing," he said, "is very real. And very rare. There are only four like it in the entire world."
Micheal's eyes narrowed. "How did you come by this?"
Shirley remained silent, still staring at the orb. Something tugged at the back of his mind—a memory just out of reach.
"I've seen this before," he said slowly. "I don't know when… but I know I have."
Sage smirked, not at all surprised. "That's no ordinary object. What you're looking at… is a piece of CORE's heart."
The room tensed instantly.
"There are four pieces in total," Sage continued, circling the orb. "Each one a glowing blue orb like this—because his heart isn't like ours. It's not muscle. It's not blood. It's high-tech. Designed to be eternal."
He paused.
"As long as even one of these hearts still pulses, CORE lives, The Guardian's remain, and Choreees exists. That's the secret to his immortality. This…"—he gestured to the orb—"…is one of the keys to ending him."
The group exchanged stunned glances. Even ZE210's usual energy had faded into silence.
After a moment, Micheal stepped forward. "Did you take it from him? You and your people?"
Sage shook his head. "No. I didn't know the man personally… but according to Resistance records, his name was Evander."
The name lingered in the air, and echoed in Micheal's head.