Truth
Two days after returning to ARK from the Sector, the squad members started shirking their duties. What was up with everyone? They'd been busting their asses on missions before!
Being the only one left in the empty squad barracks, watching TV alone, gaming solo, lounging and snacking by myself—it had its charms... But now that we're all cooped up together, it feels awkward. Like, I'm actually getting side-eyed. Mostly from Rira. Why is she so obsessed with me? At least she's toned down from aggressive outbursts to just glaring. Small mercies. But the discomfort hasn't budged. If I keep soaking up those looks, I might end up Swiss cheese. Too young to ascend just yet. Screw it. Time to bail.
I slipped out of the 1st Squad barracks with natural poise. Okay, it creaked a bit. The squad's guard dog, a pit bull terrier, snapped its head toward my movement with pinpoint accuracy—way scarier than I'd imagined. Turn my back, and it'd chomp me, no doubt. Stepping outside finally let me breathe. Ah, living the dream. Fine, consensus reached: holing up in my private quarters for the foreseeable. For my mental health, obviously.
But heading straight back felt lame. I'd been here nearly a week now. The 1st Squad building inside the Sector? Crashed one night and bounced, no real recon. This place is different. Unless something major pops off, I'll be stuck here long-term. Basic layout recon seems polite, right? Yeah, expanding my turf. Dual life bouncing between quarters and squad dorms? Time to level up. Triple life from here on out.
Resolution set, I strode forward confidently. What greeted me? Hallway, hallway, and more hallway.
...Well, yeah. Enforcers or whatever, it's still the army at heart. No PC bangs or noraebangs would be weirder. Got my hopes up for nothing. Makes sense, though—emergency call-outs mean no time for distractions. They'd hand out whatever you want on request. Limits on freedom, but perks make up for it. I'd take freedom over perks any day!
Recon complete. I was slinking away when a racket echoed from somewhere.
“Cheers~!”
Rowdy bunch. Cheers? They supply booze too? That changes things. Not a huge drinker, but the vibe...
The vibe! Damn! Plan shift. Straight shot to the common room 50cm ahead!
I charged forward, heart swelling. Reached the source of the friendly clamor in seconds. Peeking in: crowd as expected. Nine uncles and one auntie clinking massive mugs. Contents—!
...Orange juice. Duh. No karaoke or PC rooms, so booze? Get sloshed and miss a mission—who covers that? Bah, dashed hopes again. Closer look: eight dudes having a blast, but one in the middle looked terrified. Hunched shoulders, stiff neck—reeked of greenhorn vibes. Welcome party, huh.
Yeah, no spot for me. Even if it was booze, breaking in would've been awkward. But suddenly, I'm salty. I'm a newbie too, right? Newbies tremble, sure, but flash timid smiles. I could rock that fresh-faced grin!
First day's chow was welcoming, I guess... But all I remember is the discipline! Wait—did I blow it by not acting green enough?! Yeah, too chill. No newbie slinks into barracks all shifty. Should've barged in with “Hey bros~!” and bowed deep.
Had to own it: my bad for half-assing the rookie role. But re-enlistment orders out of nowhere? Anyone'd play it cool and tragic. Judge knows, he'd bang the gavel thrice: not guilty.
Have fun, folks. Wrong address.
“Oh my!”
What, did the newbie reek too?
“The new inspector?”
Ah, newbie's an inspector like me, not combat enforcer. Sergeant vibes? Boom—week in, and I've got a junior.
Clack-clack.
But... why's the footsteps heading my way?
“You there, cute little missy?”
Well played. Whoever you are, you know how to call 'em. Yep, that's me. Cute, adorable, pretty, gorgeous lady right here.
“Heard 1st Squad got a new inspector... but not like this...”
Words trailing? Mesmerized by my beauty?
“...How old are you, missy?”
“Nineteen.”
But my heart's eternally nine. Call me savior while you're at it.
“Oh~ Nice to meet you. I'm Carmen... sis—er, unnie.”
Sis? Guy-heavy squad, slip of the tongue. But unnie? Looks at least thirty.
“Aunt—!”
Hands faster than eyes. Dropped my guard; cheeks pinched.
“Unnie.”
Stern as a pumpkin. Her intensity makes me wanna call her less.
Badge check... “Pleased to meet you, Captain Carmen.”
Captain?! Carmen eyed me like I'd lost it. Overwhelmed by my youth, clearly.
“Yeah, that's the proper address.”
Captain Carmen nodded, but pouted. Aunties ain't cute no matter what.
Did she hear my thoughts? Carmen yanked my cheek once more before releasing.
“Got tons of questions about 1st Squad's little miss. Chat?”
Uh? No thanks.
*****
Captured. Captain-level transcend humanity? Even my 2.5 act couldn't escape Carmen's grip. But I'm 1st Squad! Captain or major or whatever—no fair manhandling!
This human rights violation—!
Then: tiramisu shoved in my mouth.
Nom nom. Captain's sweet, cake's delish.
“How's 1st Squad life? Okay?”
“No issues.”
Livin' fine. But feels like day-one CO interview. Major, so battalion commander chat? What screw-up gets that fresh off the boat? Whoever it is, not bunkmates material.
“Our 'baby' sure is shy~”
Not a baby.
“Nera.”
Hmm... at your age, maybe babyish? Say it, and I'm dead.
“So, how'd our baby end up an inspector?”
Ooh, first to ask. Patrols cross paths with tons; no one else cared. All shot me hateful glares. This body's popularity... Doc must've blabbed everywhere. Add 'social adaptation' to his experiments.
“Why ask? You know already.”
Busy in dark damp labs, missy. Underestimate at peril.
Wait—you're captain! Everyone thinks I'm Doc's spy; you wouldn't know?
Unless... interrogating the spy?!
“Talking rumors? My take's different.”
What's yours? This grip's violence. Interrogation? Nah, torture!
“Definitely not 2.5 stage. Past regular enforcer level.”
Whoops! Busted again? Can't just blame Doc.
“But still weird, all things considered.”
Not weird at all!
“Thought you had an agenda... but nah.”
Eyes hurt? Mid-30s, vision blurs.
“No threat vibe, nothing worth touching here.”
I'm mega-danger pro. Poke this wall, pandemic. Doc doesn't know either.
“Licht wouldn't send without reason. So, two options.”
Carmen's arm looped my neck. Cozy hug, not choke? But muscles everywhere—rock hard. No womanly feel...! Enforcer heat too—weird!
“Discard or bait.”
What...?
No way! Talented pretty me? No!
“Doesn't seem you're in a good spot, baby.”
I... I'm Doc's top elite shadow secretary...!
“Grand delusion. What evidence for that nonsense?”
Objection!! Pride battle royale starts now.
“Too young. Training one spy takes ages—know that, baby?”
“Talent varies.”
I'm elite genes incarnate.
“Fair. Hiding emotions? Pro-level. No flicker now.”
Carmen raised other arm... and ruffled my hair roughly.
What...?
“But no hidden motive shows. Dodged enforcer secrets? Stirred chaos fooling someone? Nah, just drawing eyes.”
Sharp! Nailed my attention-magnet status...!
So quit the pity stares. Makes my lot seem pathetic.
“Still, you're just Licht's spy.”
Yeah, that. Super dangerous regardless.
“Reasons for spying? Plenty.”
Spill it.
“For someone by Licht...”
Uh... Emma's cute?
“Brainwashed by Licht...”
Er... he thinks that...
“Or revenge...”
Hmm? Not wrong? Too grand; call it trash disposal. Wait—you know all this? Or too cliché?
“All nonsense.”
“Really? Truth: you're harmless. Licht's using you to draw eyes.”
Licht distracting via me... sounds plausible hearing it looped.
...Nah, still BS. Almost bought it. Doc failed brainwashing; I don't hate him. Petty jealousy boot was all... Seeing him hyped pisses me off.
“Sniff...!”
Sudden sob nearby. Dude, why ugly-cry?
“Sis, I... didn't know, thought the inspector was just a bitch...!”
Nope. I am. You're spot-on. Talent! Don't quit!
I screamed internally, but too late. Someone turned. Someone wiped tears. Someone stared intensely weepy-eyed. Someone gazed nobly at ARK's flag, resolute.
Their eyes locked on one target.
Me.
“““Sorry!!!”””
Dudes, what's this? Auntie's charm epidemic? Super awkward.
*****
Carlos sat in his private quarters, eyes on the computer screen's Abyss survey report.
Something's off.
Instinct screamed a critical difference between appearances. No proof, though. “Looks different” ain't evidence. Variants vary wildly. Aggression this time? Virus influence—unrebuttable.
Extra week's probe? For instinct backing. Zilch. Yesterday's anomaly aside, dead quiet.
Carlos sighed softly. Lingering on submitted report looked bad; he closed the screen, eyes shut.
Ding!
Minutes later? New alert. Emergency response mission.
Target: East Sector
Situation: Multiple surveillance beacons signal lost
Action: 1st Squad, 3rd Squad—mobilize immediately. Investigate and submit report
Carlos stood. Time for a long haul. First in ages.