The sound of someone's heavy combat boots echo down the concrete halls.
As you lean back into your chair, an operative dressed in stealth fatigues steps into your office.
In their arms they carry a manila colored folder, marked with the insurgency logo and a bright red clearance warning.
Not a moment after your eyes recognize the item in their arms, it's thrown onto your desk with a hint of annoyance.
The force from the throw slides the folder to your side of the desk, almost teetering off the edge.
You open your mouth to say something, but the person had already stormed out of your office by the time you looked back up.
Despite their attitude, you're pleased they managed to get it to you on such short notice.
As the echo of combat boots once again reverberates throughout the concrete bunker, the folder catches your gaze.
You gently open the folder with an almost eager touch.
It's been a slow day. The foundation has been caught up in their own affairs and haven't crawled out of their hole. Most of the cell is either asleep or sent off-base for one reason or another. In the grand scheme of things, today was the furthest thing from interesting. But the night before? it had been quite the opposite, especially for one non-commissioned officer. A choice had been made, and a new beret was given. For the alpha command, it was a choice that might one day determine the future of the cell. For the new officer, it was just one step closer.
You glance at your wrist, noting the time.
You stand up from your desk, leaving your office and beginning a pace around the base.
You check in the main army bunks.
You check in the debrief room.
You check in the R&D lab.
You check in the cafeteria.
You check in the lobby.
Not a soul.
Apart from your own foot steps and the hum of the fluorescent lights overhead, the base is completely silent.
You double back downstairs.
Entering the bravo hallway and stepping half-way into the officer bunks, you're met with a brief sense of disappointment.
Really is just a quiet day, isn't it?
Before making your leave, you notice an open footlocker. That's a little disappointing, too.
As you walk over with intent to shut it, you glance at its disorganized contents.
Inside the footlocker lays a pristine white dress shirt, with an MCU-2/P gas mask laying on top. A partially disassembled H&K MP7 sits in the other corner of the locker, alongside a sealed vial of water and a chipped scout blade.
The disorganized state of the footlocker sets something inside you off.
As you reach for the shirt and lift it up with the intent to make this space presentable, something falls out of the folds.
A small black leather book now sits in the locker, staring you in the eye.
... You wouldn't be a very good leader if you didn't know the people who work under you, right?
As you lean back into your chair, an operative dressed in stealth fatigues steps into your office.
In their arms they carry a manila colored folder, marked with the insurgency logo and a bright red clearance warning.
Not a moment after your eyes recognize the item in their arms, it's thrown onto your desk with a hint of annoyance.
The force from the throw slides the folder to your side of the desk, almost teetering off the edge.
You open your mouth to say something, but the person had already stormed out of your office by the time you looked back up.
Despite their attitude, you're pleased they managed to get it to you on such short notice.
As the echo of combat boots once again reverberates throughout the concrete bunker, the folder catches your gaze.
You gently open the folder with an almost eager touch.
It's been a slow day. The foundation has been caught up in their own affairs and haven't crawled out of their hole. Most of the cell is either asleep or sent off-base for one reason or another. In the grand scheme of things, today was the furthest thing from interesting. But the night before? it had been quite the opposite, especially for one non-commissioned officer. A choice had been made, and a new beret was given. For the alpha command, it was a choice that might one day determine the future of the cell. For the new officer, it was just one step closer.
You glance at your wrist, noting the time.
You stand up from your desk, leaving your office and beginning a pace around the base.
You check in the main army bunks.
You check in the debrief room.
You check in the R&D lab.
You check in the cafeteria.
You check in the lobby.
Not a soul.
Apart from your own foot steps and the hum of the fluorescent lights overhead, the base is completely silent.
You double back downstairs.
Entering the bravo hallway and stepping half-way into the officer bunks, you're met with a brief sense of disappointment.
Really is just a quiet day, isn't it?
Before making your leave, you notice an open footlocker. That's a little disappointing, too.
As you walk over with intent to shut it, you glance at its disorganized contents.
Inside the footlocker lays a pristine white dress shirt, with an MCU-2/P gas mask laying on top. A partially disassembled H&K MP7 sits in the other corner of the locker, alongside a sealed vial of water and a chipped scout blade.
The disorganized state of the footlocker sets something inside you off.
As you reach for the shirt and lift it up with the intent to make this space presentable, something falls out of the folds.
A small black leather book now sits in the locker, staring you in the eye.
... You wouldn't be a very good leader if you didn't know the people who work under you, right?
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