Such elegance. Such a precise cut with depth hidden in its side. I never knew that raw carbonite had so much towards its surface. It's an exact copy of regular carbonite in terms of its flatness and smooth texture. However, what colors and shapes the regular lacks, the raw stuff embraces it. The piece I marvel firmly within my palms shines brightly in the jaded black underneath the barely breathing lanterns' light.

A three-footer like this can make you one of the strongest knives that someone would ever see. So few things can even break through the stuff; some back in my time believe that it can make someone invincible. They're not wrong, mostly. Two birds of the same feather will always be able to pierce through the other. That's why my Lincoln needed a blade of the stuff and why Devestator made himself out of it. 

If you have a body that can't be cracked or broken, then you might as well be a God. However, even though I learned about a mineral with such durability twice that of chromium, it has a weakness. Like everything does.

Lana explains to me, while I'm still admiring the piece that has a texture smoother than a newly flossed wooden shelf.

"Almost like a piece of tin foil. It's super hard to break down just by yourself, but if there's already a tear, then it's a lot easier to break what's already been torn. "She then points out to me the crack that was already within it and further explains to me how she cut that part with a sharp piece of rusty carbonite she found in the junkyard.

"It wasn't easy," she says. But I got it down, thanks to it showing me its weakest spot from the shine."

In hindsight, it makes sense that raw carbonite already shattered or damaged can be broken not only more easily by another piece, but also by other pieces' elements. Granted, most people don't usually see someone or something having raw carbonite. The Legion can be thanked for that. It's what's most important that I pick up from her last words.

"Each piece of raw carbonite has a weak spot, some bigger than others why the metal is the most vulnerable." She then has me tilt the rod while squinting my eyes. "The eye is the weakest spot for them all. My father taught me to always look for the part where it shines a half-dead wink." She continues to have me squint my eyes, and then I see what her father meant.

A shiny bright light giving a dead man's wink. Right where the crack was before Lana split it apart. I bet one of the machine's teeth smacked itself right in the center of its eye, cracking it. Then all Lana had to do was finish the job. She further elaborates that a rock can only have two eyes. All that means for me is that no matter if you forged it into a blade or molted a bunch of it into a body, there will always be two eyes, winking at you. Just a matter of where.

As Lana starts to see my ever-growing grin wrapping around my face, she begins to smile that glows even brighter than a simple raw carbonite crack. At this point, we've made it back to the four-way intersection. I was prepared to give Lana the high five that I knew she was waiting for. That all changes once my ears pick up an echo of static rumbling in tangent with footsteps.

Instinctively, I grab Lana and hide behind a large box right next to the start of the left path. Lana's eyes start pacing back and forth, not knowing what else to do. I immediately placed my hand over her mouth. She only gets it once the static rumbling gets in earshot. I only hear two soft whimpers afterwards.

I know of such a noise and feeling all too well. I go to my side to realize that I only end up flapping up air near the side of my empty flak jacket. Hearing that noise throws me back in that closet at Solis, listening and picturing, then tearing the place apart to try and find me. Got to remember. There are no bots to sound like that, communicating with one another. I'm not in my time. I got to remember that, for Lana's sake.

I peek past the box slightly to confirm to myself the treat and there they were. A considerable slim individual inside a white marshmallow hazmat suit with a sort of glass or fiber covering that paints their face tinted black. They don't carry anything in their hands besides a thin clipboard from what I can tell from where we lie. I can also make out the embedded symbol that protrudes loudly from the middle of the suit. The Covenant.

Here? But why?

I plot my head back to the corner to check up on Lana. Her eyes continue to quiver restlessly along with the rest of her body. Now with the figure inching ever so closer, I can make it out the static rumbling to be a radio trying desperately to sound normal in a system like this.

Every time he peeks our way, I dart my head back down. They don't seem to notice as the person begins muttering over to someone from the other side. The only words I can make during their conversation are cleared, evaluated, and a clear phrase known as Project Burial. 

It doesn't take too long to put two and two together. People were working in these mines but only to be kicked out by them. The lingering question is why? Whatever it is, I doubt they would appreciate me and Lana wandering around here. Especially with valuable raw carbonite in hand.

The figure only exemplifies that point further by yelling out an "all clear" to whoever he was talking to and to "seal it off."

Not a moment later once his heavy gears ran away from earshot. Loud bangs echo further down along with the ground slightly shaking, I can tell Lana was trying to scream through my hand by the wetness of her lips. 

With the bangs roaring closer accompanied by falling rocks, I have Lana quickly hop off my shoulders and hold tight as I dash for the exit. I glance back only once to see the shaft behind us caving inside out. This time death's not going to have another meal. It'll have to lick the remaining skin from my left arm.

A few jogs later were out of the mines from where we can. Waiting about 30 seconds for the sounds of the falling rocks to finally catch up towards the entry.

"That was awesome," Lana squalls trying to mask her fear with excitement. By the way her body sways and how her arm shakes still holding the metal, I gave her a nod to let it all out. Her body pauses as she only whimpers "Why did they do that?"

I tell her simply probably nothing to worry about and then give her that high five that she has been itching for. She smiles and that seems to shrug her worries away. Still, in reality there was no direct answer I could have honestly given her. Whatever this Project Burial is, I bet it involves digging into the mistakes that my Covenant did. 

I know, with the raw carbonite acquired, I'm a step closer to getting home. However, for this valley's sake, I hope that project Burial doesn't commit and collide this time with mine.