Chapter 10 — Before the Fall, We Rest
——
Squad 13 lingered on the stairs outside the main hall.
Kun sat near the edge of the step, elbows on knees, chin tilted toward the glass dome above. The sky beyond was smeared with pale clouds, the academy's drone grid cutting faint lines across the blue.
Suho stood beside him, arms crossed, gaze still lost in thought.
Zhangwa was pacing again—half out of energy, half out of nerves. "I swear, I'm gonna chew on someone if we don't get a schedule soon."
Mika leaned against the rail a few feet away, one leg bent up, arms folded, quiet. Watching everything without reacting. Always watching.
Smiley laid back on the stairs like a cat in a sunbeam, arms behind his head. "Training better come with naps," he muttered. "Or I'm filing a complaint with reality."
Kun tapped out a message with a lazy smirk.
" yo ray, i got 2 cute girls in front of me"
No read receipt. No reply. Just the blinking cursor of indifference.
"Ghosted," Kun muttered. "Damn. Thought I'd at least get a 'send nudes.'"
Zhangwa tilted her head. "Who's Ray? Some sugar daddy from back home?"
Kun smirked. "Close. Ex-merc. Kind of our messed-up godfather."
"Hot?"
Suho sighed. "Worn down. Gruff. Drinks vodka before noon."
Zhangwa grinned. "Hot."
Jackson finally returned—boots crunching on the stone path, coat swinging slightly with each step. His face said "I survived" but barely.
Zhangwa perked up the moment she saw him. "Sooo, dad—what did Mr. Park say?"
Jackson didn't even pause. "Don't call me that."
Kun grinned without looking up. "You're not denying the role though."
Jackson sighed, running a hand through his short hair. "He talked about our classifications, the academy schedule, and what kind of hell to expect."
"Training rooms?" Suho asked, already focused.
"Not yet," Jackson said. "We're locked into classroom learning for a few weeks first—mostly lectures, simulator briefings, history, and CO theory."
Kun flopped back dramatically. "Oh great. School with a body count."
"Wait, so we're not doing flips off buildings and shooting monsters yet?" Zhangwa said, faking a gasp.
"Maybe next month," Jackson replied. "If we're not dead from boredom first."
Smiley yawned, not moving. "Call me when we start shooting things. Or when there's coffee. Or death."
Mika finally pushed off the railing and turned toward the dorm hallway, hair catching the breeze just slightly.
"Let's head back," she said. "No point wasting the calm."
Kun stood up, stuffing his phone back in his pocket. "Still no reply from Ray."
Suho gave him a side glance. "He's probably asleep. Or drunk. Or both."
Zhangwa fell in step beside them, stretching like a gremlin ready to attack a pillow. "Dibs on the couch when we get back."
"No way," Kun said. "You hog it like a cat with rabies."
"Maybe because I am one," she smirked.
Jackson trailed behind, rubbing at the side of his temple. "This is going to be the longest semester of my life."
Smiley didn't move until the rest were halfway down the path.
Then he stood, cracked his neck, and followed.
"I'm calling it now," he said, voice soft but clear. "We're gonna be legendary."
No one replied—but no one denied it either.
——
The corridor stretched ahead—tall walls lit by flickering smart panels, drones zipping quietly overhead as if too bored to surveil anyone properly. Rookie squads drifted in clusters, laughing, arguing, or just dragging themselves along like the last hour aged them a year.
One cadet tried balancing a stun baton on his forehead. Another was being carried—fireman style—by her giggling teammates after apparently passing out during a blood pressure test.
Oblivion Squad kept walking.
"Yo," Kun said suddenly, arms behind his head, "why the hell is this place called District 9, anyway?"
Zhangwa popped a candy into her mouth. "I think it's called Japan."
Kun turned his head, eyebrows raised. "Nahh. You're lying."
"I read it on conspiracy sites though," she mumbled around the candy. "Used to be a whole-ass country. Like… flags and emperors and weird mascots."
"Japan is a country," Suho said flatly.
"Was," Jackson corrected, hands in his coat pockets. "This place was called Tokyo. Capital city. Mika's from the posh part."
"You mean the part with the giant buildings and security drones that greet you in four languages?" Zhangwa asked, frowning. "The one where the trash smells like perfume?"
Jackson nodded once. "Yeps."
Kun side-eyed him. "How do you know that, old man?"
"Ex-mil," Jackson replied coolly. "It's not classified—it's just history no one bothers to teach anymore."
A loud CLANG echoed from somewhere down the corridor.
They all turned.
One rookie had apparently tripped over his own rifle case, scattering weapon components across the floor.
His squadmate let out a long sigh. "Bro. That's the third time today."
"I swear it moved on its own!"
"Yeah. That's what my last girlfriend said about the microwave."
Kun snorted, then glanced back at Jackson. "So, what happened to Tokyo?"
"War," Jackson said, voice quieter now. "Too many Counters. Too many nations trying to outpower each other."
Zhangwa tilted her head. "So... they nuked each other?"
"No nukes," Jackson said. "Just... collapse. Infrastructure died. Politics crumbled. Administration stepped in to 'clean it up'—turned everything into numbered districts."
Suho glanced sideways at Mika. "And your family stayed in Alpha through all that?"
Mika didn't answer right away. Her gaze stayed forward, unfazed.
"My father invested in survival," she said simply.
"Translation," Kun muttered, "he bought half the city and built a wall around the other half."
Mika didn't deny it.
Smiley let out a lazy yawn behind them. "You guys are talking like the world ever made sense."
They passed another group of rookies practicing formation drills in the open plaza ahead. One was holding a textbook while marching in circles. Another kept yelling, "LEFT! YOUR OTHER LEFT!"
A third was face-down on the bench, muttering, "I miss my cat…"
Kun chuckled. "Academy life, baby. Half war prep, half sitcom."
Zhangwa looked around. "What's the other half?"
"Despair," Suho answered.
They reached the hallway fork—left toward the dorms, right toward the simulation wing.
The academy lights buzzed above them like tired stars.
"I still can't believe they deleted country names," Kun said, shaking his head. "That's dystopia-tier. No flags, no borders. Just... Administration."
Jackson's voice came low. "It wasn't about order. It was about erasure."
Smiley stretched his arms overhead as they turned toward the dorms.
"I give it ten years before they delete birthdays and replace them with biometric scan days."
Zhangwa narrowed her eyes. "Wait, we don't get cake?"
"Death before no cake," Kun declared solemnly.
They walked on, the air cooler now, the light harsher—like the architecture itself knew they were leaving the public zones behind.
Oblivion Squad was headed back home.
For now.
——
Oblivion Squad Dorm — Late Afternoon
The door slid shut behind them with a soft hiss.
Kun flopped onto his bed with the grace of a falling brick. "Finally," he groaned, already thumbing through his phone. "If I see another glowing banner that says BE THE LAST DEFENSE, I'm deleting my eyeballs."
Mika settled quietly on her bunk, one leg crossed over the other, flipping open a worn paperback novel. The pages rustled faintly under her fingers—something old, something printed.
Zhangwa flung herself backward into a pile of laundry like it was a beanbag, humming a tune only she recognized. "Y'know, the bed sucks less if you don't think about how many rookies probably cried into the pillow last semester."
"Great," Kun muttered. "Now I'm thinking about it."
Smiley was already out cold—stretched across his bunk like a corpse in a sunbeam, breathing slow, almost theatrical in its peacefulness.
Jackson sat by the window, watching the dorm courtyard. He didn't speak, but the way his eyes flicked between moving silhouettes said his brain hadn't shut off since orientation.
Suho leaned against the wall, phone in hand, gaze bouncing between headlines and shadows. Always scanning. Always ready.
"We got a free day," Jackson said finally. "Classes start tomorrow. Probably theory and mental resilience training. Light work, but don't get cocky."
Zhangwa blew a raspberry. "Sounds like nap class."
"You will fail nap class," Kun said. "Your snoring's a war crime."
"I don't snore," she shot back.
"Yes, you do."
"Prove it."
"I have recordings."
Suho scrolled without looking up. "He does. Timestamped. Multiple angles."
Mika's lips curved—just slightly.
Jackson finally stood, stretching out his back. "Alright. Anyone hungry? Cafeteria should be calmer now."
Kun hopped up immediately. "Food I don't have to fight a vending machine for? Sold."
Zhangwa followed, tossing her phone onto the bed. "Let's see if anyone's got snacks worth trading gossip for."
Mika slid a ribbon between her pages and closed her book. "Might be worth meeting other squads."
Suho nodded silently and grabbed his jacket.
Smiley mumbled from his bed, half-conscious: "If they have coffee… bring me the pot."
Kun grinned as the squad filtered out of the room. "Oblivion Squad, first mission—Operation: Mingle and Munch."
The dorm door hissed shut behind them, leaving behind silence, books, and the shape of a team still becoming one.