HdweuH Chpt 7

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==How did we end up here?‎‎- Chapter 7 -==
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The day had turned into a relentless pursuit of salvage, each step through the snow-covered battlefield revealing disappointments. "Great, just great," I grumbled to myself, the bitter wind carrying away my frustration. "Today is turning out to be one colossal bust."
 
I kicked at the snow, letting out a frustrated sigh. The promising find of the Highlander 732b was a distant memory now, replaced by a series of underwhelming discoveries. Actuators, twisted and mangled beyond recognition, seemed to mock my efforts. The battlefield offered no treasures, only the remnants of war scattered in the unforgiving cold.
 
"And here I thought my luck was turning around," I muttered, my eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of salvageable material. The Mech graveyard stretched before me, a silent testament to battles long forgotten.
 
A half-destroyed Mongoose caught my eye, its skeletal frame barely holding together. "Oh, fantastic," I grumbled sarcastically, kicking a loose piece of scrap metal. "Just what I needed, a Mech that's 90% scrap metal. Could this day get any worse?"
 
The wind carried my muttered grievances away, and I trudged through the snow, contemplating the futility of salvaging from a wrecked Mongoose. The odds of finding anything valuable in its battered remains seemed slim, and frustration gnawed at me.
The realization of a wasted day settled in, and I couldn't help but grumble louder. "Actuators and a wrecked Mongoose, the treasures of the day. Maybe I should start selling snow as premium salvage. It's as useful as most of the stuff I'm finding."
 
As I continued my exploration, my thoughts spiraled into the harsh reality of salvaging in the Inner Sphere. Some days promised riches, while others delivered nothing but bitter disappointment. The uncertainty of finding valuable salvage weighed heavily on my mind.
 
"I need something substantial, something that'll make all this worth it," I muttered, my breath visible in the chilly air. The salvage business was proving to be a relentless challenge, a constant battle against the odds.
 
My datapad chimed, a notification distracting me from the desolate landscape. I checked it, hoping for a spark of good news. Instead, it was a reminder about upcoming bills and the pressing need to secure more salvage to keep this operation afloat.
 
"Well, isn't that just the cherry on top," I grumbled, the frustration building. The financial strain pushed me to seek out salvage relentlessly, but the battlefield offered no guarantees.
 
With a sigh, I turned away from the wrecked Mongoose, its fate sealed as mere scrap metal. The day had become a testament to the harsh realities of salvaging in a universe indifferent to my struggles. As I trudged back to the recovery vehicle, I grumbled about the challenges ahead and the need to find something worthwhile before the mounting pressures closed in.
 
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The snow-covered battlefield seemed to mock my efforts as I trudged back toward the recovery vehicle, dragging the salvaged pieces behind me. The Highlander 732b remained an elusive dream, and frustration had become my unwelcome companion.
"Another day, another load of disappointment," I muttered to myself, my breath forming clouds in the cold air. The wind carried away my grumbles, but the weight of the day's failures lingered. The realization of an impending financial crunch pressed on my shoulders.
 
As I approached the recovery vehicle, I couldn't help but kick at the snow in frustration. The salvaged actuators and the wrecked Mongoose felt like burdens rather than treasures. My mind raced with thoughts of mounting bills and the looming end of the lease, a reality that seemed to cast a shadow over the salvage business.
 
Climbing into the vehicle, I couldn't shake the disappointment that clung to me like the cold. The hum of the engine brought a semblance of warmth, but the day's failures still gnawed at my resolve. I sighed, wondering if the salvage business was worth the constant struggle.
 
The journey back to the settlement was filled with uneasy thoughts. The snow-covered landscape seemed to blur into a monotonous sea of white, reflecting my mood. The salvaged pieces rattled in the cargo hold, a dissonant reminder of the day's futile efforts.
 
Upon reaching the settlement, I unloaded the salvaged Mech parts and headed towards the ComStar representative's office. The dingy building stood as a symbol of my reluctant reliance on their salvaging contracts. The door creaked open, and I found myself face to face with a stern-looking representative.
 
"Well, if it isn't Alexia again," the representative greeted with a hint of condescension. "What do you have for us today?"
 
I sighed, a mix of weariness and frustration escaping me. "Actuators and a partially wrecked Mongoose. Probably nothing you haven't seen before."
 
The representative eyed the salvaged pieces with a critical gaze. "Let's see what we can salvage from your salvage. Actuators might fetch a decent price, but that Mongoose looks like a lost cause."
 
I nodded, my shoulders slumping. "Figured as much. It's been that kind of day."
 
The representative leaned back, studying me for a moment. "You know, Alexia, it's a tough market out there. Salvaging ain't for the faint of heart. You gotta learn to spot the real treasures amidst the wreckage."
 
I nodded again, not fully grasping the depth of his statement. "Yeah, easier said than done, I guess."
 
He smirked, a knowing glint in his eyes. "You're young, still learning the ropes. Speaking of which, how about we take that Mongoose off your hands? I can offer you a fair price."
 
My eyes widened at the unexpected offer. "Really? Even in its condition?"
 
The representative chuckled. "It's all about perspective, Alexia. That Mongoose might be 90% scrap metal, but that remaining 10% could be valuable to the right buyer. Mech shortages these days, you know?"
 
I hesitated, my lack of experience evident. "I... I suppose. What would you offer?"
 
The negotiation dance began, with the ComStar representative skillfully guiding the conversation. As the numbers were thrown around, I realized how little I knew about the true value of salvage. The desperation to make some money clouded my judgment, and I found myself agreeing to a price that seemed fair but left a lingering doubt in my mind.
 
As the deal concluded, and the representative made notes on his datapad, I couldn't shake the feeling of being taken advantage of. The salvaged Mongoose, which I thought was a burden, now belonged to ComStar, and I was left wondering if I had made the right decision.
 
Exiting the office, a sinking feeling settled in. The brief elation of earning some money was replaced by the bitter taste of naivety. I hadn't realized that the salvage business was more than just finding scrap; it was a complex dance of negotiations and market knowledge.
 
As I walked away, the weight of my own inexperience pressed heavily on my shoulders. The reality sank in - the salvage business was harsh, unforgiving, and I was swimming in waters I barely understood.
 
Back at the recovery vehicle, I sighed, realizing that the money earned from the salvaged Mongoose might not be enough. The impending end of the lease loomed over me like a dark cloud, and the bitter truth hit me: I didn't have enough to pay for an extension.
 
The snowfall persisted, a relentless accomplice to my mounting frustrations. As I sat in the recovery vehicle, the realization struck me like a chilling gust of wind – time was slipping away, and my lease was about to expire.
 
"Great, just great," I grumbled to myself, staring at the salvaged Mech parts in the cargo hold. The precious hours I had left felt like grains of sand slipping through my fingers, each passing moment emphasizing the futility of the day's endeavors.
 
I kicked at the snow around the vehicle, the frustration building. "A few hours left before the lease is up, and here I am with nothing substantial to show for it. Just fantastic."
 
The drive back to Geneva to return the recovery vehicle loomed ahead, a journey that would consume precious time. With a resigned sigh, I started the engine, the hum echoing my frustration. The snow-covered landscape seemed to mock me as I navigated through the unforgiving terrain.
 
The radio crackled to life, a monotonous voice announcing the weather forecast and the worsening conditions. I glanced at the datapad, confirming what I already knew – the road back to Geneva would be treacherous and time-consuming.
 
"Of course, the universe just loves throwing obstacles my way," I muttered, my hands gripping the steering controls with frustration. The once-promising day had turned into a race against time, a battle against both nature and the ticking clock.
 
As the recovery vehicle trudged through the snow, my mind replayed the events of the past week. I had given myself a deadline, a week to turn things around, to find that one salvage that would open doors to a better future. Yet, as the snowy landscape passed by, it became painfully clear – destiny had eluded me once again.
 
I sighed, the weight of disappointment settling in my chest. "One week to grab destiny by the horns, and what do I have to show for it? Nothing. Absolutely nothing."
 
The Mech graveyard, once filled with potential, now felt like a graveyard of shattered dreams. The towering wrecks and remnants of war seemed to silently mock my aspirations, each one a testament to the harsh reality of the salvage business.
 
The road to Geneva stretched ahead, a winding path through the snow-covered expanse. The silent drive allowed my thoughts to wander, contemplating the twists and turns of fate that had led me to this point. The lease's end marked more than just a return of the recovery vehicle; it signaled the end of an opportunity, a chance at a destiny that remained elusive.
 
I glanced at the clock on the vehicle's dashboard, the ticking seconds echoing my own sense of urgency. The few hours left felt like a cruel joke, a reminder that time waits for no one, especially in the unforgiving world of salvaging.
 
The radio continued its mundane chatter, oblivious to the internal turmoil I was experiencing. I thought about the bills, the impending financial strain, and the realization that my dreams of a better life were slipping away.
 
As Geneva came into view, the city lights flickering through the falling snow, I couldn't help but sigh. The salvage business, with its highs and lows, had become a harsh teacher. My naivety, the belief that a single salvaged piece could change everything, now seemed like a distant and foolish hope.
 
Pulling into the recovery vehicle depot, I stared at the illuminated sign of "Geneva Salvage Services" with a heavy heart. The warmth of the vehicle's interior provided little solace against the cold reality awaiting me.
 
The ComStar representative's offer for the salvaged Mongoose echoed in my mind, a bitter reminder of the compromises I had made in desperation. As I stepped out into the snow-covered lot, the realization hit me – I had been taken advantage of, my dreams sold for a fraction of their worth.
 
I trudged towards the office to complete the return process, the weight of the salvaged pieces feeling heavier than ever. The representative glanced up from his desk, a smirk playing on his lips.
 
"Back so soon, Alexia? Couldn't find that golden salvage, huh?" he remarked, his tone condescending.
 
I shot him a glare, a mix of frustration and resentment. "Save the commentary. Let's get this over with."
 
The return process was quick, the salvaged pieces disappearing into the depths of the depot. As I handed over the keys, a sense of defeat settled in. The salvage business had chewed me up and spit me out, leaving me with nothing but a bitter taste of disappointment.
 
Walking out of the office, I looked up at the snow-filled sky, the flakes gently falling like frozen confetti celebrating my failure. The realization that I had run out of time, that destiny had slipped through my fingers once again, was a bitter pill to swallow.
 
As I trudged through the snow-covered streets of Geneva, the city lights reflecting off the icy ground, I couldn't escape the feeling of having missed my chance. The salvage business had taught me a harsh lesson, and the road ahead seemed uncertain and unforgiving.
 
With a heavy heart, I sighed, accepting the reality of my situation. The dreams of a better future, the aspirations of destiny, had faded into the cold and indifferent night. The salvage business, once a beacon of hope, had turned into a relentless storm that I was ill-equipped to navigate.
 
And so, under the falling snow and the weight of unfulfilled expectations, I walked away, leaving behind the remnants of a week that had promised so much and delivered nothing but the bitter taste of failure.
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*;Author Note: so this should be better showing some character development and naivety and stuff. 
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