One of the large hangars at the Rejected Corps base had been repurposed into a makeshift canteen. The once-empty space now buzzed with the clatter of cutlery and low murmurs of conversation. Though most of the base’s mbers were trained for combat, not every military role revolved around fighting. A few had experience in the kitchen, enough to keep the rest fed and functional.
A long tal counter had been set up at the far end, where steam rose from buffet-style trays. The scent of hot food filled the air, simple, hearty als served in deep, dented trays. mbers moved through the line, helping themselves to whatever they needed, be it a mountain of carbs or just enough to take the edge off their hunger.
Rows of sturdy wooden tables and benches had been dragged into the space, creating a communal atmosphere. Sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, Rejected Corps soldiers ate in groups, so engaged in loud debates, others quietly chewing through exhaustion. Among them sat Na, hunched slightly forward, a plate in front of him stacked high with nothing but at, an intimidating mountain of roasted protein.
One of the nearby mbers stared at his plate in mock horror, raising a brow.
"I get that protein’s important and all, but seriously... how many poor chickens had to die for that single al?"
Na didn’t even glance up as he tore into a drumstick. "You care about chickens," he said, voice dry and low, "but you don’t bat an eye when it cos to taking soone’s life. If that’s how you felt, maybe you should’ve been a farr."
"Farrs kill animals too, you know," another chid in, grinning. "If you wanted the moral high ground, ’vet’ would’ve made more sense."
Laughter rippled through the group. The air was rowdy, the banter typical. It was how they coped, sarcasm, jabs, and gallows humor. But as the noise settled, the tone shifted, drifting toward the unease that hovered just beneath the surface.
"I heard the General still hasn’t gotten in contact with Max," one of the n said, leaning in slightly as if trying not to speak too loudly. "Is that true, Na?"
There was no imdiate answer from Na. He simply kept eating, chewing through his al like nothing had been said. But the silence, that told them everything.
"Crap, he’s still going on about that?" one of the n groaned, throwing his hands up. "Are we seriously still this hung up over that Max kid? I an, sure, the guy can fight, but at this point, I’m starting to wonder if the General’s got a crush or sothing."
Another mber leaned forward, voice lowering but laced with irritation. "Why don’t we just deal with the girl already? Send a ssage. Make the world rember what the Rejected Corps stands for. Remind them what fear really is."
"If people catch wind that we’re putting this much effort into chasing after one kid," a third said, scoffing, "they’ll think we’ve gone soft. Especially the Chalk Line boys. You know they’re always watching, just waiting for a slip."
"I heard we’re close to striking a deal," soone else added, trying to keep the tension from escalating, "but it could fall apart at any second. That’s why everyone needs to stay ready."
"Exactly!" the first one snapped back. "Which is why this whole damn thing is a waste of ti. Forget the kid. Forget the gas. We’ve got bigger things to worry about than one stupid brat."
Na kept his head down and continued to eat, never once raising his voice or offering a response. He listened to every word, letting their frustrations fill the air. But he didn’t correct them. He didn’t shut them up. Because deep down, a part of him understood, he shared their distractions. Their doubts.
Was it possible that Chrono didn’t trust them? Didn’t believe in their strength? In his strength?
anwhile, far from the noise of the hangar, Chrono sat alone, tapping his finger anxiously against the edge of his comms device. His eyes hadn’t moved from the screen in minutes, not since reading the troubling ssage he’d received.
A ssage from Dud.
And whatever it said... it had shaken him.
I’ve tried reaching out to Dud so many tis, Chrono thought, his fingers drumming restlessly against the table. He hasn’t answered a single call, hasn’t even opened my last few ssages... and then out of nowhere, he sends this?
His gaze dropped back to the ssage on his screen. The words glared back at him, more unsettling with each passing second. It wasn’t just what the ssage said, it was the fact that it had co from Dud in the first place.
Dud was... different. Always had been. Chrono prided himself on being able to read people, to understand what drove them. That ability was what had helped him form the Rejected Corps in the first place. But Dud had always been a challenge. He wasn’t unreadable, just unpredictable.
Still, Chrono had assud he’d managed to keep Dud close enough to anticipate his moves.
And Max... Max was another story entirely.
From the beginning, Chrono had suspected he might turn. That was why he’d taken Abby, collateral, leverage, a line that Max hopefully wouldn’t be foolish enough to cross. But even now, Chrono hadn’t told anyone, not even Dud, that Abby was in their hands. He hadn’t reached out to Max. No contact, no threats, no moves yet.
So what betrayal was Dud talking about?
Confused and unsettled, Chrono decided to keep the developnt to himself, for now. The others were already tense and opinionated. If word got out that there were fractures among their ranks or that Max was stirring things from the outside, it would only ignite the powder keg.
He typed out a quick reply, asking Dud for more information.
Monts passed in silence. Then, his screen lit up again.
Max has been planning things behind our back. He was at the Black Hounds event. He’s tead up with them, and attacked . Can’t talk right now.
Short. Blunt. But it was enough.
Chrono’s jaw tensed. Max had aligned himself with the Black Hounds?
That wasn’t just bold, it was reckless.
He sat back in his chair, mind racing through scenarios. The Black Hounds were already on his radar, a growing problem he’d been keeping tabs on. But Max, working with them? That complicated everything. Not just because of Max’s potential, but because of what it ant strategically. Emotionally.
Why would Max go that far? Was he trying to declare war? Or was he being dragged into sothing bigger than he could handle?
Either way, Chrono couldn’t ignore it anymore.
He leaned forward, eyes narrowed, already calculating his next move.
Chrono clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the edge of the table as the weight of the situation sank in.
Max wasn’t from this world. He hadn’t grown up in back alleys or gang-run neighborhoods. He was a teenager, a school kid, smart, sure, capable even, but no school kid could just walk up to a group like the Black Hounds and expect to hold a conversation, let alone form an alliance. Not without sothing major to offer. Not without soone opening the door.
There’s no way this just happened overnight, Chrono thought, his mind racing. If what Dud is saying is actually true, then Max must’ve barely made it out alive. Dammit... this couldn’t have co at a worse ti.
He stood from his seat, pacing the small room, his thoughts a storm of second-guessing and half-ford strategies.
We were already stretched thin. I was planning to finalize a deal with the Chalk Line boys, maybe even coordinate a move against the Black Hounds. That was the long-term goal. But now? With Dud injured and Max on their side... we’re backed into a corner.
Chrono ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. What he needed now, more than anything, was ti. Ti to think. Ti to gather information. Ti to piece together a response that wouldn’t shatter everything they’d built.
But ti wasn’t sothing he was going to get.
Because even as Chrono stood there, trying to map out his next step, Dud was already making his move, one that would shake the entire foundation of the Rejected Corps.
Without waiting for permission or backup, Dud had made his decision. The mont he’d sent that ssage to Chrono, sothing inside him had snapped. His loyalty, once tested, had finally broken. He was no longer acting as a soldier in the Rejected Corps.
He was acting as a man seeking vengeance.
And with that decision ca one final push to set things in motion.
Across the base, every single mber of the Rejected Corps heard the buzz or chi of their devices. Phones lit up. Conversations halted. Silence swept through the hangar and the dorms alike as they read the ssage at once.
A single sentence. Just five words.
Max has betrayed us.
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