Apocalyptic Rebirth: With a repairman system space, she rises again.-Chapter 704: Actress, Paula Burton.

Moon Raine was not the only one with traitorous thoughts on her mind that night. Paula Burton was on her own mission. She was tittering on nervousness, worried about the mission. It was one thing to fight a fictional battle and outwit her father on her mind. In reality, it was more nerve wrecking than she imagined.

Two aircrafts arrived in the Drift lands, their engines humming a low, metallic dirge that stirred the dust into a choking haze. But Heath Burton only saw one_ the sleek, white-bellied transport carrying his daughter, Paula. He stood on the edge of the large compound, arms crossed over his chest, looking like a man who owned the sun and was just letting everyone else use the light for a fee.

When the ramp hissed open and Paula stepped out, Heath didn’t offer a hug. He didn’t even offer a smile. He just squinted at her, his eyes darting to the insignia on the ship’s side.

"How in the hell did you manage to get a second pass from Fortress Four to come all the way out here in the dark?" Heath asked, his voice dripping with suspicion. "There is no way the Quinn just hand out their aircrafts like candy, are you sure that they are not suspicious."

Paula took a deep breath and summoning every acting god in the universe to bless her. Then, she relaxed. She’d spent her whole life practicing her ’innocent but capable’ face in the mirror. If she was nervous about the secret plan to dismantle her father’s little empire, she didn’t show it anymore.

"Oh, please, father calm down, I am not a fool," she said with a cunning smile, waving a hand dismissively as if the high-security fortress was a local grocery store. "The Quinns are obsessed with stocking supplies. I told them about the grain silos out here. They sent me with supplies for a barter trade. Who better than me to act as the middleman? I know the terrain, and I know the... difficult owner of the silos which is you of course."

Heath’s face underwent a dramatic transformation. The suspicion melted into a jagged, brown-toothed grin. He let out a booming laugh that sounded like gravel in a blender and slapped his thigh.

"Ha! My girl! A genius!" he roared. "See? This is what I’m talking about. You’ve got the Burton spark. Unlike that useless sack of disappointment, you call a brother."

Paula’s brows rose, her heart thumping a bit harder. "Is Arwin still being stubborn? I thought he’d have realized by now that Fortress Four is not our ally but our prey."

Heath spat on the ground, his face darkening instantly. "Arwin? Don’t talk to me about that wasted sperm. The boy is a failure. He’s refused to eat for days, wallowing in self-pity like a pig in mud. I’ve got him locked in the basement rooms. He thinks he’s a martyr. I think he’s a waste of oxygen."

"Locked in the basement until now?" Paula asked, trying to sound mildly annoyed rather than horrified. "Dad, that’s a bit extreme, isn’t it? Even for you."

"Extreme?" Heath slammed a fist into his palm. "I’ve used every tactic in the book! I tried reasoning, I tried shouting, I even used a few... physical persuasion techniques. Torture, if you want to be formal about it. But the boy just doesn’t get it. He keeps insisting that we can’t win against the Quinns and we will better off surrendering our territory to them." He spat. It was what angered him the most. The suggestion that he give up what he worked hard to build and control here. "He’s got a spine made of wet noodles." He looked at Paula, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Since you’re his twin, maybe you can knock some sense into his thick skull. You two always had that twin bond or whatever."

Paula nodded slowly, playing the part of the long-suffering problem fixer. "Maybe. I can try to show him the reality of the situation. But before I go down there, I have something for you."

She reached into her bag and pulled out a large, heavy sheet of high-grade paper. As she unfurled it on a nearby crate, Heath’s eyes widened. It was a detailed, technical blueprint of Fortress Four.

"This is..." Heath breathed, his fingers hovering over the lines.

"The blueprints," Paula whispered conspiratorially. "And that’s not all. I’ve started recruiting, Dad. There are people in there_ guards, technicians_ who are tired of the Quinns’ rigid rules. They want a leader who actually knows how to lead. They want someone like you."

Heath threw his head back and laughed again, a sound of pure, unadulterated ego. "Sharp! My girl is as sharp as a razor! I knew you’d be the one to bring me the keys to that kingdom."

"I’m heading back tomorrow with the grain," Paula added, rolling the map back up. "I’ll gather more intel. By the time I return again, I will have passwords and molds of the keys to their supply stores, labs and weapons rooms. We will have them right where we want them." 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Her father led her inside, while his men and the team from the fortress off loaded supplies.

Heath led her inside, and she continued to paint a rosy picture of her progress. "Did I mention that this territory is all of Babel city? And there is still talk of expansion to swallow another city. The Quinns have an unquenchable thirst. I support them because in the end, it will all be ours. Yours first father, and then me, after you."

Heath finished the glass of amber liquid he’d been nursing and slammed the cup onto the table with a definitive thwack. "I’m going to have a beautiful sleep tonight," he announced, swaying slightly. "Everything is coming along like I thought it would."

He fumbled in his pocket, pulled out a heavy ring of keys, and tossed them to Paula. "Go on. See if you can fix your brother. If not, tell him that I am going to serve him as lunch to a mutated beast. I can always give birth to another son. I have ten wives now, sooner or later, they will pop more Burtons, and I will have a worthy male successor."

He turned and walked away, swinging from side to side with the gait of a man who was already drunk on power and probably a fair amount of cheap whiskey. He didn’t notice the glint of anger and hatred in Paula’s eyes.

"Good thing I didn’t choose you." she muttered. No matter what she did for him, she would never be his successor. Just a tool!

Paula didn’t wait. She practically sprinted toward the basement. As she reached the heavy iron door, she noticed that her mother was there, sitting on a small wooden stool. A bowl of untouched soup was cradled in her hands. She was leaning against the door, her voice a fragile thread as she begged the person inside.

"Please, Arwin. Just a spoonful. You’re going to wither away to nothing."

There was no sound from inside.

"Mom?" Paula said softly.