Reol walked down the corridor, casually tossing a bag of chips toward the trash can. It clipped the rim and tumbled to the floor.
"Rats. I'll pick it up when I come back," he muttered, continuing on.
"Pick it up."
The voice behind him was deep, calm, and clearly pissed.
Reol froze. Slowly, he turned. "Hey… who the hell do you think you're talking to like that?"
"A deadlocked bastard who doesn't respect house rules." The boy's voice hardened. "Now. Clean. It. Up."
A mohawk—black streaked with silver. Two clean slits cut his brows. His eyes were sharp, dark, tinged with boredom. Taller than Reol, lean but solid. Utterly, infuriatingly annoying.
Reol scoffed. "Why don't you make me, you mohawk cliché delinquent?"
The tension thickened as they stepped toward each other, tension crackling between them.
The boy smirked. "Very well. If you insist."
They lunged at the same time. Reol's fist slammed against his face, and the boy snapped back with a vicious right hook.
And just like that—
They were fighting.
*****
Minutes later, both of them knelt before Felicia.
Tyla and Cassidy lingered to the side, barely holding back laughter.
Felicia paced slowly, eyes on them. "I see you two have met."
Reol grimaced inwardly. 'Oh… so this is the other cadet.'
Felicia rubbed her nose, cursing every life choice that led her to babysit cadets, then let out a long, exasperated sigh.
Geno stepped forward, glaring at Reol. "Forgive me, Felicia, but I couldn't just sit by and watch this thug litter right before my eyes."
"I would've picked it up… eventually," Reol shot back. "And who are you calling a thug?!"
"Spoken like a true slacker… thug!"
"Enough, both of you." Felicia's eyes cut through them like daggers, promising an eternal hell.
Both boys shivered and lowered their heads.
"Good. Now, Geno… meet Reol. Reol… meet Geno. Yes, you might have started off on the wrong foot."
"That's an understatement—" Tyla muttered, but Felicia's glare immediately pinned her in place, and she quickly looked away.
Felicia tapped her leg with authority. "You two will start afresh, and you will bond over cleaning the entire building."
Reol's eyes widened in sheer terror. Geno's, by contrast, lit up with enthusiasm.
"Wait—hold on—" Reol protested, but Felicia didn't even glance back.
"I mean every single inch. Use this time to actually get to know each other." Her tone was sharp, commanding.
As she turned and strode away, Geno yelled, "Yes, ma'am!" with all the energy of a man who had been waiting for this.
"Oh… and Tyla. You come with me. There's a certain detail you missed in your last mission report."
Tyla's eyes widened. 'Shit… my bodysuit must've reported that I used Phase Two…'
"Y-yes, ma'am," she stammered, following hesitantly.
Reol glanced at Geno, horror and disbelief mingling in his gaze. 'Is this guy some kind of masochist… or just a completely different kind of freak?'
*****
A whole day had passed, and they'd barely made it through half of the first floor. Reol and Geno scrubbed the cafeteria walls, Reol's arm already feeling as limp as overcooked spaghetti.
"You missed a spot," Geno pointed out, not even looking up from his work.
Reol gritted his teeth, braced himself, and let out a long sigh. "Look… we've been arguing all day. Out of respect for Felicia, I'm willing to tolerate you but I don't think we can really get along."
Geno scrubbed harder. "Yeah, obviously. I can't fathom rubbing shoulders with a guy who'd rather half-ass through a job than do it right."
"Well… at least we agree on something." Reol paused, wiping sweat from his brow. "Since we're on a roll already… maybe we can make a compromise for the exams too." He looked down, voice quieter. "I really… can't afford to fail."
Geno froze mid-scrub. "Sure… I can't afford to fail again either…"
Reol's eyes went wide. "Again…?"
Geno exhaled through his nose, squeezing the sponge until water dripped onto the floor. "I didn't stutter. This is my second time. I won't let the Honeybadgers down again."
Reol studied him, curiosity mixing with cautious respect. A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Maybe I had the wrong idea about you… our goals are aligned, at least."
Geno smirked, a hint of admiration in his eyes. "Well… my impression of you was dead on. But for the sake of the Honeybadgers, I'm willing to fight under the same badge as a thug like you."
"And here I thought we had a moment!" Reol shot back.
He lunged, and they collided, slipping across the wet floor. Buckets toppled, water splashing in every direction as they grappled, arms tangling and hair catching, each struggling more to stay upright than to land a hit.
*****
After a full week of scrubbing, polishing, and fitting in training wherever they could, the day of the Sergeant Exams had finally arrived. Reol and Geno didn't exactly look like champions, they looked like they'd been run through a meat grinder.
At the lab, Felicia stood before them, arms crossed, a smirk forming at her lips.
"Well, I'll be damned. The headquarters are so clean you could eat off it. Well done, boys."
Both gave a half-hearted thumbs-up, exhaustion weighing down every movement.
Commander Zackery, standing beside her, raised an eyebrow. "They don't look well-rested. I hope you never overwork them."
Felicia's smile widened, though her eyes gleamed with mischief. "What? Never. Right, boys? Arn't you just rearing to go?" Her tone implied: say something stupid, and you're dead.
Reol and Geno straightened as best they could, forcing smiles and flexing tired muscles. "Yeah… of course," they said in near-unison, the effort showing in their trembling arms.
"Ahh, marvelous," Commander Zackery said, clearly entertained.
With a blur of fingers, Cassidy hammered the console. 'It's ready!' she said, grinning
Two pods hissed open slowly, and Reol felt a pang of nostalgia.
'Haven't seen this in a while…'
They exchanged a glance, then stepped inside. The pods closed around them with a soft thud. Cassidy's hands danced across the panel again.
[Welcome, Reol Alexandra. Welcome, Genova Balde.]
Reol snorted. "Pff—Genova."
Geno ground his teeth, jaw tight.
[Scanning...]
Blue light cascaded over their bodies, wrapping them in data. Blood type, height, weight, abilities, rank—all flashed across the screens in rapid succession.
[Generating body suits...]
Energy flowed across them from feet to head as sleek body suits formed, conforming perfectly to their frames. Every line, every contour was precise, ready for combat.
[Body suit generation complete.]
Then, over the suits, uniforms materialized. The Honeybadgers crest appeared on their right sleeves, jackets and gear locking into place. Reol's custom white hoodie and black biking gloves were perfect. Geno's uniform bore a sharp collar that spoke of precision and discipline.
The pods opened. Step by step, they emerged.
And then Reol heard it, the voice he hadn't heard in so long:
[Greetings. Did you miss me? Trick question—of course you did.]
Lorrane's robotic tone echoed in his ear, smooth and familiar.
"N-no way… Lorrane?!" Reol whispered, his face a mix of disbelief and excitement.