I woke up to whispered complaints, lifting my head groggily. I sat up when I saw Marnus and Zach seemingly squaring off against Richard and all his goons.
“Come on, just stay here! You can look for weapons later,” Richard snarled at him quietly.
Zach looked absolutely devastated. “I need to find one soon, or I'll get in trouble with the Sergeant helping me. Please, I'll stay out—”
Richard growled at him, “You think we’re not in the same position? You think you’re the only one who needs to find something?” He shook his head, voice still low. “Think, dumbass. If we all go now, the likelihood of us getting caught is way higher. And if we’re caught, we’re fucked.” He tapped his arm, his cronies puffing their chests out like they were the ones talking “Just wait your turn. Go tonight if you must. Move when it’s quieter.”
Marnus held his head up, showing bravery even when he was shaking in every limb, “We need weapons too, Richard.”
Richard rolled his eyes. “And you can find a weapon, tonight. It’s called being smart.” He looked back at Zach. “You run out now, you don’t just screw yourself over, you screw everyone else over too. So sit your ass down and wait.”
“Are you guys having fun without me?” I said, not bothering to whisper as I jumped out of bed.
"Stay out of it, civvie," sneered Richard’s crony, the one who had made the lustful remark about Kate.
“It has nothing to do with you!” another one replied, though he sounded less sure of himself.
“No idea what the hell you people are doing up early, but if you think I'm going to let you three-v-two my friends here, you're sadly mistaken. So go back to bed, or we’re going to have a very unpleasant conversation.” I said, getting my stance ready, standing side by side with Marnus.
We stood there for a solid five seconds before Richard exhaled sharply. “Fine. Go look then. Just stay out of our way.”
“We’ll do what we want,” I said flatly.
“I warned you,” Richard muttered, wagging a finger before he and his group turned and walked out.
“Right then, what the hell are you guys doing?” I whispered, pulling my clothes on.
“We were going to look for weapons for the tournament,” Marnus said, even as he looked to be sulking.
“Why are you looking for weapons?” I asked half-heartedly, far more disinterested now than I was earlier.
“For the tournament? You have to find your own weapons? Did no one tell you?” Marnus said, an annoyed look on his face, like he couldn’t believe I faced such a betrayal. I just shrugged in response, ripping off the clothes I’d just put on.
“Do you want to come with us, man?” Zach asked, making me pause for a moment before I continued taking the clothes off.
“Uhm, not really. Got to have a conversation with the Lieutenant later,” I said, before climbing back into bed.
“She’s only here in four hours?” He said, looking mighty confused.
“Then I get to have another four hours of sleep? Fantastic,” I said sleepily. I heard the door open and close as they left, and was happy they were taking the tournament seriously at least.
I woke up what must have been a while later, hearing Marnus and Zach trying to sneak back in—somehow hitting their feet on every possible object, making more of a racket than if they’d just sung Kumbaya at the top of their lungs while tap dancing.
I just laid my head back down, staring at the ceiling.
What could I even say to her? I’m sorry?
That was a start. But was it enough?
I had been reckless. Stupid. Arrogant. She had put her neck on the line for me—against those bastards, against the Colonel, against all reason—and I’d thrown it back in her face. Worse, I had broken my word to her. And I’d have to keep breaking it.
What kind of man does that?
I call people traitors. I spit on betrayal. And yet here I was, making promises I couldn’t keep, then getting angry when they had the audacity to be upset about it.
And she was the one fink who actually had my loyalty.
I wanted to fix it, to say something that would make it right—but what the fuck would I say? I turned the words over in my head, again and again, until I settled on something.
"Lieutenant, I know I messed up. I know I hurt you. And I don’t expect you to forgive that, but I need you to know that I do respect you. More than I can even put into words. You're the only one in this false paradise who makes it bearable. I just want—"
The door swung open.
I snapped up straight, forcing down the nerves.
“Lieutenant, look, I’m—”
I hadn’t even finished my first word when she slammed her hand against the bed frame, the metallic clanging cutting through the room like gunfire.
“WAKE UP, YOU LITTLE SHITS!” she barked, her voice sharp as a whip. “I WANT THIS PLACE SPOTLESS! YOU’LL DO PUSH-UPS UNTIL THE SUN GOES OUT IF YOU DON’T!”
Then she spun on her heel and stormed out, her boots echoing down the hall.
I sat there, stunned. Mouth still half-open, apology still stuck on my tongue.
Around me, everyone scrambled into action, tearing off their blankets, stuffing their belongings away like they’d just been caught committing war crimes.
I just sighed, got up, and started going through the motions. Brushed my teeth. Got dressed. Fell into step with the others.
I had spent an hour thinking of the right words. And now, none of them mattered.
At breakfast, Zach showed off a long club he’d managed to scrounge up from around the base. “Look! Gonna bash your guys' heads in with this!” he boasted, clearly proud of himself.
I laughed, and so did some of the others.
“If I were you,” Anna said, giving Zach a side-eye, “I wouldn’t be bragging about weapons. The ones competing against you will know exactly what you’re fighting with—and they’ll prepare for it.”
Zach’s face turned bright red. He glanced at his club, then at Marnus, his embarrassment shifting into betrayal. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
Marnus glanced at him before looking down at his tray. “Never interrupt your enemy when he's making a mistake,” he said sadly, like he was quoting something he never wanted to use. Around the table, almost every competitor lowered their gaze, silently agreeing.
I raised an eyebrow. “Are we enemies now?” I asked, scanning their faces. Not a single one met my eyes.
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“Of course,” Richard said, his voice loud and sure, like he was speaking for everyone. “When we compete, there won’t be any niceness. We’ve had our fun this past week… but it’s time we got serious.” He locked eyes with both of his cronies. Only one of them was actually competing, and he dropped his gaze immediately, like he already knew he’d lost.
I scoffed. “Oh, so everything we went through? Everything Kate went through? And what about all those years you guys must have known each other—that was, what, just for show?” My voice dripped with disgust.
Kate looked down, then back up. “I’m okay, Boris,” she said quietly. “And I hate to say it, but he’s right. We’ve only got three weeks left, and we’ve been acting too friendly. The tournament’s going to be brutal. We’ll end up hating each other anyway, so what’s the point in being friends now?”
Marnus flinched, his whole posture stiffening at her words. His fingers clenched around his cup like he wanted to say something—but didn’t.
“I don’t know,” Zach muttered, gripping his club tighter. “Feels kinda messed up to just throw everything away like that.”
Marnus let out a breath through his nose, looking down. “Yeah. It does.” His voice was low, reluctant.
Richard scoffed. “Then what? We play nice and get our asses beat? You want to be the guy who lets someone else take your spot?”
Zach frowned but didn’t respond.
Anna and Tom, the others at the table not in the tournament shifted uncomfortably. Tom scratched his cheek like he was about to say something, but then thought better of it.
“Guess friendships don’t mean much to finks,” I muttered, poking at my food.
No one responded. Not a word, even as we got up and left for Sector B. The silence stuck with us through training in the warehouse, thick and uncomfortable.
But, after our first set, I realized I wasn't coming in last anymore. I hadn’t even realized how much I’d improved until today.
I still smoked them in the running. The bodyweight exercises were getting easier too—I could do eighteen pull-ups now. Most of the others were past thirty, though. Kate was doing sixty, but no one likes a show-off.
We pushed through twenty sets, and by the end, I noticed something—my stamina let me outlast the rest. One by one, they slowed down, their numbers dropping closer to mine in the push-ups, squats, and everything else.
When the Lieutenant finally dismissed us to our rooms, I tried to catch her eye. Just for a second.
She didn’t even look at me. Just turned on her heel and followed one of the other girls—I hadn’t caught her name yet, but I was pretty sure she was friendly with Anna.
I sighed and trudged back to my training room.
I started practicing on the bag like she’d shown me. She hadn’t even gotten around to the weapon training yet, which I figured was probably important.
Two thousand sprawls, trying to get my stance perfect. The motions felt smoother now, everything coming together. The punches felt crisp and sharp. I had been practicing whenever I wasn’t sleeping, but it wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot.
Finally—what felt like hours later—the Lieutenant walked in.
Her boots echoed against the floor, but there was no warmth in her stride, no kindness in her expression. Not like before.
“Lieutenant, seriously, I’m—”
“I’m only here because I have to be. Another word, and that need is forfeit. Am I clear?” she said flatly.
I gave her a sad mock salute, not even enjoying it this time. She eyed me with something that almost looked like disappointment before walking to the weapon rack. She grabbed a small pistol, checked it with a practiced flick of her wrist, then tossed it to me.
“You see that target?” she said, pointing to a corner I hadn’t really been paying attention to.
I glanced where she pointed, then back at her.
She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms tightly. “You may speak.”
“Okay. I’m sorry, Lieutenant, I didn’t—”
“Not about that,” She said, cutting me off sharply.
“Right then. Yes, Lieutenant, I see the target,” I said, feeling defeated.
“Good. Let’s see how bad this is,” she said, her tone hard as rock. “First, hold it properly. Not like a damn action hero.”
She stepped toward me, brisk but not unkind, and adjusted my grip. “Thumbs here, not there, unless you enjoy getting hurt. Trigger finger off unless you’re ready to fire. Grip it like you mean it, but don’t crush the thing.”
She stepped back, watching as I copied her adjustments.
“Better, but not great. Feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent. You need balance, not theatrics.”
I shifted into the stance, but her expression told me I wasn’t even close. She sighed, stepped closer again, and nudged my shoulder down.
“Focus on the front sight, not the target. Target’s blurry? Good. Front sight, smooth trigger pull. You don’t jerk it; you press it. Think of it like…” She hesitated.
For a second, I thought she was going to make a joke. Instead, she just muttered, “Just press it steady, alright?”
I lined up the sights, trying to focus the way she’d instructed. The pistol felt heavy and awkward in my hands, but I kept going. Trying to get a mantra going to remember what she was teaching.
Grip. Stance. Sight alignment. Breathe.
“Better,” she said quietly. “You’ll need to know this after the tournament. I’ll teach you the basics so you’re not too far behind when we get to the real training.”
Her words were cold, but her tone wasn’t. She turned away, pretending to inspect the rack, but I caught the way her hands clenched at her sides.
She wasn’t angry—well, not that angry. She was just hurt.
And I didn’t know what to say to fix it.
“Now,” she said, her voice a fraction softer. “Do it again.”
Feeling like a complete failure, I complied, repeating the motions. Five more times. Each time, she adjusted something—a foot here, a finger there—until, finally, I did it twice in a row, and for once, she didn’t look utterly disappointed.
I took that as a win.
“Lieutenant Galina will see you tomorrow,” she said, heading for the door. “I don’t care if you destroy the room like last time, but I want to see improvement. Good day.”
She turned to leave.
“No warning like last time, Lieutenant?” I asked, watching her back.
She paused in the doorway, hand resting on the frame.
But she just shook her head and left.
I sagged, then did exactly as she said. Following every step of her instructions to the letter, repeating each motion at least a thousand times.
Later, Zach came and called me for dinner, like usual. During the whole dinner, no one said a word. Not. One. It felt like someone had died.
“I didn’t know we were holding a funeral,” I muttered, but my heart wasn’t in the joke.
Some of the ones not competing gave me small smiles, but the rest just kept eating.
I glanced up at Tom, sliding my tray over to him, “Tommy?”
Wordlessly, he copied Nina's food and plopped it down on my tray.
Finally, when I finished eating, I pushed my tray aside and stood up.
As I stood, I felt every lowered head turn toward me as I walked toward the lower ranks, and I could practically hear the envy growing in them.
As I passed the long table full of low rankers once again, the conversation dimmed, but did not entirely die like it did yesterday, thank god. I came to stand behind Theo, patting his shoulder once in a silent greeting before lifting my head to look at Bea.
“Hello there,” I said, finger-gunning toward her. “By any chance, have you made a decision?”
A few of the lower ranks still glanced at me warily, shifting in their seats. But the ones who had been there yesterday morning were barely holding back smiles.
Not Theo, though. He wasn’t even trying to hide his.
Bea scratched her chin, her ears practically growing pink, looking down like she was deep in thought before meeting my eyes. “I have, actually.”
She grinned.
“So, can I, like, find out what it is?” I asked, returning her grin.
“Why don’t you ask me tomorrow morning? Find out then?” she said, leaning back in her chair, feigning confidence, like talking to a B rank was nothing special. It was almost cute.
I let out an exaggerated sigh, then pulled out the fantastical, the wonderful, mock salute—this time, putting my whole heart into it.
“Yes, ma’am!” I said loudly.
The reaction was instant.
Once again, the entire table’s conversation died. All eyes turning to me. Except Theo—he clapped his hands together, clearly enjoying the moment. Some of the others exchanged grins, while a few just looked dumbfounded.
I patted a few of them on the back as I walked away, but even as I left, I could hear the questions start hounding her again, as Bea buried her head in her hands just like she had yesterday.
I smiled at that.
Even when I walked back to the B-rank table, where everyone looked miserable, their moods sinking into their food like I had just won the lottery and they all wanted a cut.
“You know,” I said, standing there, taking in their sulking expressions, “you can do the same thing too. They’re right there. Just talk to them.”
No one answered. No one even looked at me. Even with jealousy naked on their faces.
Finally, we went through our nightly routines, and then went to bed. Tomorrow morning was going to suck.
Lieutenant Galina was coming back. And I was definitely going to be embarrassed again.