The memory of those bullies stumbling over their ridiculous story to Sergeant Thomas lingered in my mind, drawing a smirk to my lips.
"A tray-wielding ghost," I muttered under my breath, shaking my head.
They couldn't have made themselves sound crazier if they tried.
It was all part of my plan, of course.
I knew the moment they opened their mouths, no one would take them seriously.
And now, they were off to the mental health ward.
Good riddance.
The corridors of the base were quieter than usual as I made my way to the meeting point for my new team.
The soft hum of machinery echoed off the metal walls, and the faint smell of grease and disinfectant hung in the air.
When I reached a smaller corridor where we were supposed to assemble, I found only one other person there.
A soldier around my age with jet-black hair and eyes just as dark.
He leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
Maybe I should greet him, just to sound casual.
"Hey," I greeted, stopping a few feet away from him. "I'm Sky, nice to meet you. Looks like we're on the same team."
His eyes flicked to me briefly before he looked away, his silence cutting through the air like a knife.
I waited a moment, expecting at least a nod or a grunt of acknowledgment, but got nothing.
"Alright then," I muttered, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice.
I walked over to a nearby chair, dropped my pack, and sat down.
The silence between us stretched on, heavy and awkward, as I glanced at him occasionally.
He didn't move much, just stared straight ahead like he was waiting for something or someone.
Minutes turned into what felt like hours.
My patience was wearing thin, but I kept my cool.
Finally, the others began to arrive, their footsteps echoing down the corridor.
One by one, they trickled in.
A tall guy with a buzz cut, a woman with sharp green eyes, another man who looked like he hadn't slept in weeks, and a quiet guy with glasses who seemed more interested in his gear than anything else.
Once we were all assembled, a man stepped forward, his uniform pristine and his demeanor confident.
"I'm Private First Class Steve," he announced, his voice firm but friendly. "I'll be leading this team for outside duty. Before we head out, make sure your weapons are in order and you have everything you need. I don't want anyone slowing us down once we're outside the base."
Everyone nodded, myself included, and we busied ourselves checking our equipment.
My fingers ran over my gun, Doom, ensuring every mechanism was in perfect working order.
The weight of it in my hands was reassuring.
After a while, Steve gestured for us to follow him.
We filed out of the corridor and into the main yard, the sunlight glaring off the metal structures around us.
The air outside was crisp, carrying with it the faint scent of the forest beyond the walls.
Just as we were about to leave the compound, Steve stopped abruptly.
"Ah, I almost forgot something," he said, slapping his forehead. "You guys go ahead. I'll catch up in a bit."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and jogged back toward the base.
The rest of us exchanged glances, unsure whether to wait or move on.
The others soon started chatting among themselves, their conversation filling the space.
I hung back, feeling the weight of someone's gaze on me.
It was him.
The black-haired guy.
He hadn't said a word since we met, and now he was standing a few feet away, silent and watchful.
His presence made my skin crawl, and I decided to put some distance between us.
I slowed my pace as we neared the edge of the compound, letting the others drift ahead.
The air felt heavier here, the towering gates casting long shadows over the ground.
I was lost in thought when a voice called out behind me.
"Sky!"
I froze, recognizing the voice instantly.