Under the cover of dusk where the moonlight pierced the silent night skies, a platoon of soldiers left a massive wooden crate of supplies in the holding area. A few hours from now, they will commemorate their first cohort of graduating soldiers in a grand display of ceremonial festivities. That meant everything planned for had to be precise–with every nook and cranny inspected for things to proceed smoothly.
“Yes, sir. Is there anything else?”
The commander touched the crate momentarily before turning to face his soldiers.
“We carry on as planned. Armskote Team head to the armoury. Delta Branch stay with me.”
The Armskote Team, led by their in-charge, nodded and headed to the left wing of the holding area.
“The rest will proceed with the graduation ceremony setup.”
“Roger that, sir.” The remaining supply assistants nodded and returned to the loading bay, ready to carry on setting up the venue. He then took a nominal roll from his folder and handed it to his Delta Branch’s quartermaster. “Please pass this to the Security Officer. He’ll know what to do.”
The quartermaster looked down at the printed paper and noticed a couple of unrecognisable names. Civilians, perhaps? However, he knew not to question his superior and simply followed the orders. “Yes, sir.”
Sensing the heat signatures of his subordinates dissipating, he placed his hand on his nape. Now that all the pieces were strategically in place, he knew they could proceed with their version of the festivities. His nape started to prick as the Atlantean Coil activated, connecting him to the private network.
*
Finally, graduation day had arrived.
All the trials and tribulations the recruits have endured would culminate in this glorious day of the ages. The loudspeakers above sounded the opening bell, with the emcee giving the speech, which began with: “Welcome to the United Atlantea Federation Armed Forces General Military Training Graduation Ceremony!”
“Are you ready?!” Carmelo clapped his hands excitedly. Right on cue, his batchmates followed him in tandem, clapping like mindless drones copying their originator.
“Man, I wish we got to meet our OC sooner. It makes me wonder how we would have been if we had OC leading us from the start compared to that coward.”
“Word.”
“Truth, bro.”
Bronston crushed a can and tossed it at the bin a short distance away. “If I see that little bitch again, I’ll beat the shit out of him. Fucking little asshole cunt.”
“You missed that, Bron Bron.” Carmelo teased. “What a loser.”
“Shut up, Melo. If you think you can do better, why don't you try it out?”
“I try it out? Bro! I can do it better than our boy loser Smith!”
“Now that’s some solid fucking motivation.”
“Damn right.”
Batch 123 erupted in laughter, remembering their former brother, who turned tail and ran off again with his new medical certificate.
Damian shook his head. “A weakling like him will never make it.”
“You guys noticed he has been in the Medical Wing too often lately?” Rey asked concerningly.
“Since when did you care about him!” Bronston eyed Rey suspiciously.
“Come on, at least be a little concerned about our boy–”
“He ain’t our boy.” Bronston corrected Rey. “Besides, you should have stood up for him like our good buddy Bray. But I don't remember you doing that so you don’t have the right to flip-flop on your stance! Weren’t you the one who said Neptune abandoned us?!”
Rey looked away in shame.
“Stupid hypocrite.”
“Hey, hey, enough. Speaking of that coward, has anyone seen him?” Dom asked, reaching into the packet for a tiny piece of cracker.
“Well, I did spot him in the stands during practice,” Carmelo answered.
“How about the rest?”
“No idea, boys.”
“Never seen that lil’ bitch since that day, mates.”
Carmelo snapped his fingers, pointing at Bray, who silently sat in a corner reading what appeared like a stack of papers. “Maybe Bray over here knows.” He relocated beside Bray, offering him a packet of soy milk. “Yo, have you heard anything from our dear Neptune?”
Bray looked up and his attention immediately turned toward that…thing.
“The last I heard from him was about a week ago, the same time as you guys.” Bray, who had spent the last few minutes reading documentation given to him, looked up and saw Carmelo offering him a packet of synthetic trash. The Federation had no access to the Central highlands and the South’s agriculture lands, meaning most sustenance they consumed was synthetic or just…recycled garbage. “No, thank you.” He then waved his hand to decline the soy milk.
“You sure? It’s tasty.”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Then I guess none of us knows where he disappeared to, huh?”
Having perfected the art of lying with a straight face, Bray stood up, bidding his batchmates farewell and goodbye.
“Alright, Bray, don’t take too damn long! OC is coming to join us soon!”
“Aye, Bron Bron.”
“Don’t ya’ dare call me that! Come back here!”
Bray grabbed his notebook from the ILBV before walking briskly toward another section of the lower halls. He never knew the stadium could be this big, with the massive tunnel-like system interconnecting everywhere. From the site recce performed days ago by his ammunition commanders, he learned that this stadium had a secondary purpose–one used in warfare where it acted as an ammunition dump for strategic logistical supplies. He had spent considerable time cleaning up the abandoned rooms, alongside fellow ammunition assistants, littered throughout the stadium before the graduation ceremony for no apparent reason–an order by his Commanding Officer who claimed these rooms had received redesignation for new strategic purposes.
That’s odd.
From his peripheral vision, he saw stacks of weapons and various forms of ammunition prepared. In another corner, what looked like perfectly cut wood was stacked neatly. He stopped briefly, pausing to wonder if his fellow corpsmen had omitted an error in their setup by fulfilling more than what was procured. He quickly concluded it was impossible. The Logistics Command had one of the most stringent procurement and fulfilment systems in the military–especially with that straight-edge trainer they had.
“Who the hell dragged all this stuff out of the room?” Bray asked into the stale air…and someone seemingly spoke to answer his rhetorical question.
“Look at all that.”
They all responded with a “Wow” as Bray heard footsteps approaching, curiously turning to see a man dressed…oddly. Behind him was a large squad following his lead. This group of men looked close to their middle ages, with a few ranging from young to adulthood. The men wore the same attire comprising a jet-black cardigan and military camouflage black pants. Also, their combat boots looked worn out, possibly from their experience in operations. What confused Bray were the shades they wore inside the stadium, for there was no need to protect their eyes indoors. Based on this visual alone, he could conclude one thing: these soldiers were too old to qualify as recruits graduating today.
“They overprepared.”
“Hey asshole, don’t say that. The taxpayers are paying for this shit!”
“Hey, boss, they even got burgers prepared for us!” The group of men laughed loudly, seemingly out of place in the context of the stadium.
“Burgers? How poetic!”
“It tastes good though!”
“Hey, don’t just begin without us!”
“...Wow, you’re right.”
“They’re generous, all right.”
They then noticed a soldier staring at them, his hands holding onto a stack of papers.
“Guys, look there.”
“Where? Oh.”
“Is that him?”
“Maybe it’s him.”
Are they looking at me?
Bray pointed at himself and the men nodded. He then waved at the group of men as though they were friends. His friendly act was met with the men returning the gesture mockingly with a snicker as though he wasn’t welcome.
“Hey, young man!” One of the men called out to Bray. It was the same older gentleman calling out to him.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“Yes, boss!” Bray responded with a goofy smile.
“Get your ass over here, young man.”
“Yessur!”
Bray walked over to the group of men, clutching the master weapons list and the notebook with his incorrigible scribbles.
“...................................”
The man looked Bray deep in his eyes, wanting to know if he was the man sent as the point of contact for the hired job.
“May I ask you somethang’?”
“Go ahead, boss.”
In a soft, yet, deadly tone, the man whispered into his ears. “...Are you him?”
Bray nervously looked around him as though time stood still for a fraction of a second, studying the supplies and their behaviour. Sweat trickled down his neck as he understood the shark’s tank he had unfortunately stumbled into. The hidden intent of this group’s presence in the stadium. The implication of having these weapons left around in broad daylight without any armourer handling the handover and taking over. He wanted to scream and run away but the thought quickly dwindled as they easily outnumbered him. Nobody–recruit or commander–was close as the nearest room was at least a hundred meters away. Surely, somebody else was supposed to handle this, possibly another representative. That thought alone made him sick. And for him to walk into this unfortunate circumstance was simply bad luck. Considering all his options, he only had one second to decide his fate.
I’m screwed.
Suddenly, an insane, epic turnaround surfaced, suppressing his nervously frightful instincts from taking over. He had made his decision thanks to the dumb luck he had to bring it with him.
“Yessur, look at this, boss!” Bray raised his stack of papers like a grand trophy.
“What’s that?”
“You know what it is!”
“Let me see that, won’t ya’?!”
The man snatched the papers, quickly scanning through them with intense scrutiny.
“Rifles, check. Bombs, check. ILBVs’, check, Hmm…”
The man read through the list, reading out a couple of foreign words Bray had never heard of–possibly weapons he would never touch–and learned the purpose of. Bray eyed the man nervously, his legs beginning to give way from the immense pressure as time stood frozen for an eternity. If the real representative were to show up now, he would be screwed–
“I-is everything good, boss?” Bray asked timidly, knowing his life was on the line.
“...One second.”
Bray felt his heart almost beating out of his chest. The pressure alone from that wait was just too much.
“Yas, it looks mighty dandy fine.”
The man slammed the papers onto Bray’s chest as he looked him dead in the eye. Suppressing the urge to sigh in relief, Bray felt it come out from his arse instead. It was a long, drawn-out poop sound.
“A young man like you would go very far in life. I’m glad I now have you around as the rep. That surely makes tasks easier, hell yeah.”
As the man offered Bray a handshake, he noticed the black gloves stained by a distinct crimson-coloured liquid. The contrast of red on top of black was simply too striking. He nervously swallowed upon recognising what that stain was.
“Give me a hell yeah, young man.”
“Hell yeah.”
“Damn, you’re good. You’re very on the ball, too. Awesome stuff.”
“...That’s very kind words, boss.”
There was no turning back now. Bray accepted the handshake firmly, looking the man deep into his eyes. The blood from the man’s hand transferred onto his, unknowingly forming a blood pact between them.
“That’s what’s up!”
“Atta’ boy!”
The squad of men erupted into a joyous chorus of cheers varying from “Hell yeah” to “This is awesome.”
“Holy smokes, I love this guy! Boys, what chu’ think about him?! This young man is good! Real good! A hundred out of a hundred, if you ask me!”
The group, decked out in black, nodded in agreement and surrounded him like a shiver of sharks. They looked at one another before each took their turn to give their vote of confidence by slamming their fist repeatedly onto their chest.
“““Yesser, Boss.”””
The men returned to gorge on the food after voting. Some even started to clock their rifles, loading the magazines with live rounds after inspecting them. A handful performed stunts by twirling and performing tricks with them–all while laughing. The way they strapped themselves with these weapons felt like another day in the office. It seemed like second nature for them to be surrounded by these toys.
“Before I forget.”
Bray felt the man’s bloodied glove on his shoulders. “What is it, boss?”
“Dammit, we haven’t even introduced ourselves! I can’t believe we got straight into business! My bad!”
“Business always comes first, right?”
“Damn, son…”
“Yes, boss?”
“Damn, you sound smart for your age. Young man, what’s your name?!”
“Boss, my name is Bray Rotunda!”
The leader nodded his head, acknowledging this young man’s brilliance. He had always found the ammunition soldiers too uptight and was glad their commander had picked a gem to represent them.
“No rank insignia, too. Perfect. We didn’t know soldiers like you still exist; for a moment, we thought the brave had died young the last time. Bray, huh? That’s a good name. What’s better? You have a good spirit–kind and modest, just how we like it,” The leader touched Bray’s cheeks with his blood-stained glove, “Young man, here’s some advice. Damn, I wished I imparted this the last time we had a rodeo. Your commander had done you dirty, leaving you here high and dry. Let me help you out. Take my advice wisely, or else you might end up like these fools above us.”
The leader menacingly warned as he pointed to the ceiling above, seemingly desiring to warn this boy of the murky waters ahead where the sharks he led would feast.
“Wait! Boss, you haven’t introduced yourself to me.”
“Dammit, we can get to that later, my boy!”
“Yessur…”
“Listen close, alright?!”
Suppressing a heavy gulp of saliva, Bray never once broke eye contact to soak in the gospel of his partner in crime.
“Yes, boss! Anything you say, I will listen! I am here to learn from older, wiser men!”
“Goddamit, Bray. I wish yerr’ my son!”
“Never too late, boss!”
“Dammit…”
The leader placed his arms around Bray before speaking methodically into his ears, ensuring every verb and pronoun was crystal clear. Each word he spoke sent shivers down Bray’s spine like a shockwave.
“Let me introduce myself to you, my boy. You can call me the Fiend.”
The Fiend then grabbed Bray as close as he could and whispered more intently than usual–
“Bray, I want you to take your friends, loved ones, families…especially anyone you hold dear far away from this stupid stadium.”
The Fiend slapped Bray on the back, sliding a slip of paper into Bray’s pocket as he delivered his final words, which echoed like an earthquake, rattling his entire consciousness.
“As soon as you fucking can like your life depends on it.”
“Affirmative.”
Bray understood the intent of the Fiend’s message and the severe implications for everyone involved. He reached into his pockets to pull out the name card, burning the Fiend’s name into the inner recesses of his mind.
“Now, get your ass outta my sights, Bray.”
“Boss, we will keep in touch,” Bray swore his legs had never moved this quickly.
“We will. Take care, my son.”
“Take care, Dad–wait, am I allowed to call you that, boss?”
“Whatever, Bray!” The Fiend started laughing as he shook his head. “I wish you all the best. You’re a good soul, a good boy,” The Fiend took out a cigarette before glancing at the no-smoking sign littered at a corner, “But, there’s something you will learn with age…”
The Fiend bid Bray farewell, making a toast with his cigarette at him.
“...And that this world is an ugly place! Godspeed, my son. See you at the next rodeo.”
*
“Bray, you’re late. Where have you been–” Neptune spotted Bray running towards him. “–Wait, you never run, what’s the urgency?”
“My apologies!” Bray’s face had turned white, seemingly lacking oxygen.
“You look like you have seen a ghost.”
“You need to get your family out of here now!”
Bray’s piercing light-green eyes conveyed urgency as he slammed his hands on Neptune’s shoulders. Neptune was taken aback by Bray’s words and started blinking rapidly.
“What’s going on? Hang on, one step at a time–.”
“We don’t have time,” Bray hastily whipped out the name card from earlier, slamming it onto Neptune’s chest while panting heavily, “Here.”
Despite the loud noises in the holding area, Neptune managed to zoom in, focusing on the conversation between him and Bray. He grabbed the name card from Bray’s hand and read it out loud. “Private…Security Enforcement? What’s this all about–wait.”
Is that blood…?!
He felt a dark, ominous feeling of terror upon his fingertips coming into contact with what felt like dried blood. Whoever handed this card to Bray had unintentionally shown their hand in the depravity they would sink to if what he suspected became true. And for the first time, he felt a challenge to his warped intellect from this tiny piece of paper.
“Let’s start from the beginning. Who, or should I say, how did you get this?”
Bray diverted the question and cut to the chase. “Where’s your family?!”
“My family? What about them? They’re not here yet.”
“Tell them to leave. Call them!”
Neptune fished out the phone in his pocket and hesitated to make the call.
“...But my younger brothers won’t listen. They have been waiting for this for weeks. There’s no way I can convince them not to come!”
“Just drop them a message. Lie. Do something. Something!”
“I don’t get why my family shouldn’t be here.”
Bray clicked his tongue and had his hands on his head. “We don’t have time for this!”
“You better tell me what happened!”
“Terrorists are preparing to hijack the ceremony! They have weapons!”
It took an eternity for Neptune to process the words thrown at him. The dried blood on the name card. Bray’s affinity with the Ammunition Institute. Something bad must have happened for him to be this late.
“What did you just say? Oh, wait, you’re serious–this isn’t a joke, right? Tell me you mean it. ”
“Yes.”
Neptune found difficulty comprehending what Bray had unveiled. Regardless, the evidence made sense. Without further hesitation, he whipped out his phone to activate the speed dial function. “Mom, it’s me, Neptune.”
His mother’s voice sounded fuzzy, possibly due to the network connection.
“Mom, this is urgent. I want you to leave the stadium now. There’s an emergency about to take place.”
He had to cut to the chase and settle things from his end as quickly as possible.
“Take care, Mom. I’ll…” Neptune breathed deeply, wondering who else he could save if the worst came to light. “...Talk to you over text.”
As Neptune lowered his phone, he looked at Bray with eyes filled with desperation. No words left their mouth as they wondered what to do next. After all, they were two teenagers who barely knew how to fire a gun. Let alone make plans for complex missions.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Neptune broke the silence.
“It’s up to me…”
Uncertainty filled Neptune’s mind as his hands started to tremble. Even with his otherwise confident persona, he could not help but second guess himself.
“S-so, what can we do when there are terrorists just a couple of blocks away?”
“...Aren’t you the guy with the brains?”
Bray knew the only man in this stadium who possessed the ability to save everyone from their bitter end stood before him. He had to rally his chosen one to make the winning play if there ever was a time to turn this miserable situation around. “...Have you forgotten that I’m not the brains of this operation?! It’s you, Neptune! Get your goddamn act together! You have been yapping on and on about how great you are. Now, you can’t do anything when we need you to show up? What are you? All talk? You’re no different than a goddamn politician!”
Neptune widened his eyes at the pep talk, noticing the keys of destiny had landed in his hands. He had to think fast and act decisively. Yes, he could tell this to those he deemed as crucial, but who was of the highest priority? Also, what determined their priority?
Time had run out and he needed to move and think on the fly.
“Fine, let’s go.”