Slater J. Tross, O.L.C

August 13th, 2030, 7:00 am 

I already want to leave.

I don't know if I've ever hated someone as much as I hate Luke Bradley and his pets, Richard and Don Weller. They won't leave me the hell alone, not even for a second. It's always a jab at me and who I was, never about who I am. I want to accept it because, I admit, I kinda deserve it, but when it's something every time we encounter each other, I get sick of it.

Yesterday was a total blur, mainly because of those three. I want to forget everything that happened, but they'll keep reminding me for the next two weeks. Let's start at lunch.

After the incident in the bunk room, we all went to the mess hall for something to eat. Needless to say, I sat alone, which didn't surprise me. I wouldn't want to sit with myself either. That's not what happened, though. Before I ate in solitude, Luke and the twins took it upon themselves to try to eat with me. At first, I was grateful that I wasn't alone, but they quickly proved why I hated them in the first place.

We were having a decent conversation until Don reached across the long table and poured half of his water bottle into my lap. The water wasn't even cold, either, so it even looked like I pissed myself. A few people in the vicinity saw what happened and chose to ignore it or laugh. One kid yelled, "Slater pissed himself!" All eyes were on me, then.

Sergeant Lee had just returned from his second presentation at the perfect time. "Care to explain to me why everyone is saying that you peed yourself, Slater?"

I stood up and pointed right at the trio. "Sergeant, he just dumped his water on me. I didn't pee myself, I swear."

His eyes scanned me from head to toe before turning away. "Just go get cleaned up. It's disgusting."

That was the first incident.

At around dinner time, we were taken on a tour of the headquarters. Well, actually, just the facilities in which the recruits are permitted to use. The first floor of the north wing is the only area accessible to us, and the backyard behind the building. Apparently the quality of our facilities are sub-par to those of other parts of the building, which isn't hard to believe. They haven't been updated in decades, besides the testing terminals around the yard.

Corporal Porter was the one conducting my tour of around fifty kids. Luke and the twins decided to go along with my group. They're obsessed with me for no reason, but they claim they wanted to go on this tour because they think the Corporal is hot. Sure, guys. They're going out of their way to get on my nerves.

At the northeast corner of the barracks, there are two giant scroll-like papers hanging on the wall. "Here," Corporal began, "is an Imperial Guard tradition that celebrates accomplishment after two weeks of ranking. On the left, here, are the names of everyone who ranked first in the class. The right has all the names of those who ranked second. If you are one of the lucky couple to lead your class, signing these lists is a huge honor."

"Corporal Porter, are you and Sergeant Lee on that list," someone chimed in from the back of the crowd.

She nodded. "Yes, we signed them the day of our ceremony. We're at the very bottom." She stuck her index finger up near the top of the list. "Here's a familiar face, General Hamilton. Sergeant of Class 87. He signed this list, too."

Luke behind me snorted. "Looks like Slater has some shoes to fill," He announced to the group. They all fell silent. That's not the worst part.

"I guess he does," Porter said under her breath.

I can't hold in this rage I have toward those three anymore. They're out to get me. They aren't even trying to rank, they just want me to fail. Well, I won't fail. Their efforts will be in vain when I rank in the top one hundred, and they're in the basement in rank. They're wasting their time.

I hardly slept at all last night. Two nights in a row I've gotten below-adequate hours of sleep. I was surprised that Luke and the twins weren't trying to smother me or slit my neck like they said I would do to them. To be honest, I was too scared to fall asleep because I was afraid I would do something in my unconscious state. That's probably what they want me to do. They want me to kill someone so they can get rid of me for good. With those three harassing me all the time, I say why not.

I am sitting alone at breakfast this morning, watching on as everyone else congregates at separate tables throughout the room. I keep poking at my eggs with my head resting on my knuckles. I want to eat, but I can't. We have our first training session in a half-hour and my nerves are screwing with my appetite. Something needs to enter my stomach before I leave.

Luke, Don, and Richard found some other kids to sit with this morning. I hate them. I really do. They're going to make my life here a living hell. They're trying too hard to make me hate them, and it's working. It's a waste of energy for them. Luke will periodically turn his head to me and sneer. I stare back before he turns away.

The mess hall looks a lot like a high school cafeteria, with the format of the tables. There are a few lengthy tables that go from one side of the spacey room to the other, and circle tables surround them. I'm at one of the long tables, a few seats from the nearest person. I'm facing both the hallway to the barracks and the one leading to the lecture hall. Between both paths are a set of a bathrooms with a light beaming over them.

Far to my left, there is a huge glass window that covers nearly the whole wall. In the center of it is a door leading out to the backyard. I can see the gray blanket that hovers over the trees. That's a small wooded area where we will have a few of our tests, including the capture-the-flag game. It's a totally synthetic battleground that's half a mile in diameter. It has the ability to manipulated with the push of a button in the control room hanging right overtop of this exit.

See, I did learn something in my tour yesterday.

If you tilt your head back, you'll see an engraving of an eagle with it's wings spread wide out to its side. It's identical to the one that watches over the headquarters from the front. All I know is that the eagle is the insignia of the Queen's City faction. I'm not sure about the other four regions, though. The detail in the one above is incredible, not missing a single feather. A banner is held in its clutches, saying, EST. 1870. One-hundred sixty years doesn't look half bad.

I finally stab my fried eggs and start shoveling them into my mouth. It's now somewhere around seven-fifteen and I don't have a lot of time to get out to the yard. I have a long day ahead of me. I take a sip of my water to wash it all down before standing up out of my seat.

When my legs are fully extended up, I'm met with another body in front of me. My tray bumps into it, but I'm able to hold on and keep anything from spilling overboard and onto them.

"Sorry, man," I apologize, maneuvering around him. I don't want any trouble. It's best to stay on people's good sides.

"Okay, Slater, that's cool, I guess. Leave me hanging, I get it."

I was so worried about the person getting angry at me that I didn't even see who it was. His flaxen hair is pressed down on the top of his head, flowing out at the bottom near his neck. An auburn squirrel's tail sleeps on his upper lip. Not a good look for him, that's for sure.

"Jake, what's going on?" I place my tray on the open spot beside where I was just sitting. I haven't seen this guy in forever.

"I don't know, man. One minute you tell me you'd drive me to practice, the next I find out you killed someone."

I feel one of those pains in my chest, but it's not from the mark. He was the last person I spoke to before everything went wrong. We were supposed to have practice after school, but it got cancelled because I was on the run. They didn't want to conduct practice if I was considered dangerous and could show up to potentially hurt someone. That was the last time I heard from anybody I was ever acquainted with.

Jake texted me that night, asking me where I was, as if I would answer. The Imperial Guard would track my phone so quickly that it would worthless. But I did anyway. I told him that I murdered a guard, and that this would be the last time we would talk to each other. I wished him luck on the season, and said goodbye before tossing my phone into the ocean. I was across the Bluefield-Woodrow line in a half-hour.

"I'm sorry," I say, avoiding eye contact. "It all happened so quickly."

"You were the last person I'd expect to be a murderer, Slater. Why did you do it?"

Why. That's the problem; there is no why.

"I-"

A shrill bell radiates throughout the cafeteria. "All recruits currently in their breakfast period should transfer out to the yard at this time for the first trial session." Everyone around us rises out of their seats and clogs the doors out to the green space. Without acknowledging Jake again, I mimic the group. I'd rather not answer Jake. I hope he understands.

"Fuck! It's hot out!" Someone at the front of the mass yells. Everyone else exchanges awkward looks with each other, while I scan the perimeter of the heap of kids. I hope none of the officers heard him. I don't know if punishment for one person carries on to the rest of the group. I wonder how adamant the officers are going to be with that rule. The fighting rule, I understand, but the swearing? We aren't kids.

Well, whoever that was wasn't kidding. It's blistering out here, and it's hardly seven thirty. I hope we aren't out here for long. I don't want to die by heat stroke before ten.

The yard has three different sections that help to improve for several different tests. The wooded area is located to the right, and it's where we will practice for the island run and obstacle course. I don't know what it's like in there, but it shouldn't be too bad. Straight ahead is a gigantic pool, like one swimmers compete in. That's where all the aquatic tests will occur. To the far left are stone platforms with steps that lead up to the elevation. There are no boundaries around the squares. That's where the combat tournament will take place.

Today's forecast looks like a free day, meaning we can go to whichever trial we deem our weakest. I love the "uniformity" the Imperial Guard employs here. "Yeah, just do whatever the fuck you want," they're basically saying. They really know what they're doing around here. To be honest, I would much rather have them tell me what trial I have to complete than just go with the flow.

It appears most of the traffic is headed over to the fighting squares, so I'll take the backroads. There aren't a whole lot of people passing the grassy plain over to the small forest, so I'll try my luck over there.

I watch as Jake and a couple other familiar guys sprint over to the pool, never even glancing over at me. I'll be up front; I'm glad he doesn't have to stay with me. Him and I back at school were inseparable. I need this time to make new friends, assuming he'll still accept me for who I've become. I feel bad for not confiding in him about what really happened, but that's another story for another day. I need to focus on myself and my mission right now. I can't get caught up in drama.

A mass starts proceeding toward the tree line upon my arrival. Some of the kids practicing for this test don't look like they're the most athletically inclined, if I'm going to be honest. Looks can be deceiving, though. I can't underestimate anyone anymore, especially when I'm always in defense mode.

The range of tall, lanky deciduous trees mesmerizes me as I attempt to stare straight through. The emerald hue at the canopy glitters against the soft morning sunlight. It's a half-mile all the way around, yet it seems endless. Like it lasts forever.

"Ok, everyone, listen up," someone announces a little far behind me. I twist around quickly to make it look like I was paying attention. Everyone's eyes are guided toward a guy approaching in dress clothes, as if he works here. The sleeves of his button up are scrunched up to his elbows. I can see his argyle socks just above the ankles as his gray pants are pressed against his legs. He doesn't look much older than any of us, which would correlate with his mediocre dressing abilities.

"My name is Corporal Keller, and welcome to my neck of the woods here at the Imperial Guard ranking. No pun intended," He adds under his breath. No one laughs. "I am ranked third in my class but I placed first in my year's island run, so it would do you good to listen to me. I think that training here in this terrain is the most beneficial because not only does it cover three of the tests, it improves your quickness and endurance, which come in handy with the other physical tests.

"Of course, you could transfer to another site during another session, though I am convinced you won't get out the same you do with this one. Our first trial test will be simple." Keller diffuses through the crowd toward the treeline. "Two people will begin here and, on my go, will run to the other end of the woods. There are markers here on the ground, and the same ones are on the other side to make sure you ran the full length. You will be timed so you can gauge yourself for what you need. Easy. Any questions?"

"Yeah, I got one." A girl on the perimeter of the group says. "If you're ranked third in your class, how are you a Corporal?" More than half of the recruits snicker, myself included.

"Any actual questions?" Keller repeats through his teeth. We're all silent, watching his face turn pink. "First two can step up to the markers."

For a couple moments, there are rumblings rippling through the group. I don't want to be the first one to run. I just want to go under the radar for right now. That girl really pissed him off, and maybe seeing me will make him lose it. I need to see how it's done before I go attempt it and make a fool of myself.

Two brawny guys separate out of the mass and walk toward Keller and the twigs scattered around the front bushes. Standing on the tips of my toes, I can see what the "Corporal" meant by the markers. There are two silver plates planted into the grass just by the shrubs.

"Our first contestants of the day. See this clicker here?" Keller unveils a device from the pocket of his short slacks. "When I press this, the timer on the other end will begin, which means you start running. It's not hard, people."

Both guys place one foot ahead of themselves, putting a print on the disk in the ground. They look at each other, taunting with no ill intent. I haven't seen either of these guys before, yet they appear to be football players or something by how they're built. They seem to be linebackers, so it'll be interesting to see how they run.

"And, go."

In a burst of speed, they take off. Though not very agile, they are still taking on the beginning of the course well. One of them trips over something invisible to us behind the treeline, but we chuckle at him anyway. We watch on as they fade into the leafy realm.

Ten pairs of recruits follow the first two kids as the white sphere rises higher above our heads. The clouds have dispersed, which isn't helping us much with the heat issue. My shirt is compressed onto my chest already, and I can feel the moisture on my head drifting around my hairline. Pacing around and not remaining stagnant hardly does the trick, but it's better than laying on the grass, which is what some kids are doing.

Corporal Keller unbuttons the top of his shirt and pulls the collar out to circulate air. He wipes his eyebrow with his shoulder and upper arm before glancing at the group who hasn't completed the run yet. "Okay, who's next?"

A childlike recruit approaches the Corporal and the silver saucers. No, I'm serious; there is no way this kid is our age. He hardly even surpasses Keller's clavicle, and the officer isn't even that tall. Chestnut strands poke out all over the place on his head, as if his mom forgot to brush his hair this morning. He has his white t-shirt tucked into his shorts, and his sleeves folded up twice. The kid twists around to face the rest of the group, who I'm sure is in the same level of disbelief as me.

Keller scans the rest of us, as no one moves ahead to follow the little guy. "Does anyone want to take on this recruit?"

Everyone around me shakes their head with a few "no way"s dispersed about. Why doesn't anyone want to race this kid? He's a shrimp compared to the rest of us. If no one else is going to jump up to do it, I guess I'll have to. I might as well get it out of the way now, especially against him.

I press through the crowd and advance to Keller and the kid. "I'll race him." There are some mumbles behind me, but I drown them out.

I watch as Shorty's eyes examine me from my sneakers to my head. He gives me a nod. "You're Slater, aren't you?" His voice doesn't match his stature at all.

Wow, someone else knows me. I grin. "Yeah. What's your name?"

Turning toward the silver platforms, his attitude doesn't mimic mine. "If you beat me, I'll tell you."

I take my place on the adjacent circle, still facing him. Before I can ask what will happen if I don't beat him, I stop myself. That's a stupid question. I will win.

"Ready boys?" The Corporal inquires to our right. "Go."

I spring forward, leaping over some lush bushes straight ahead. Now immersed in the forest, I have the ability to take note of the setting that twenty other kids had to comprehend. The scratched trunks of the trees are not strategically placed, as if these were real woodlands. Occasional inconsistencies in the leaves open up a spot for light to glare through to the grainy dirt below my shoes.. There are some downed trees laying diagonal on the forest floor, creating obstacles for Shorty and I.

He distances himself from me, about ten feet to my left. I can see him out of the corner of my eye, and he's keeping pace. I dare say that I'm impressed so far. Unfortunately for him, though, he doesn't have the experience of sneaking through the city's ruined buildings and untamed landscape with five guards at your feet. Only one can come out on top.

The air squeezes against me as I pass a white stake in the ground with a red flag laying limp. I'm trying not to let the heat slow me down, but watching the kid run only steps behind me, a few yards away, makes me want to go into overdrive. I'm trying my absolute best, and am making great time so far. One false step, and I'm second. How embarrassing would it be to lose to this kid? Horrible.

As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I pick my head back up to see a log across my ankles. My right foot rams into it initially, and I belly-flop into the dirt. While I rebound, pushing myself off the ground, I witness my opponent dashing far ahead of me. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This can't be happening. His little legs chopping against the grain, to my ears, feels like a metal fork to a plate. I can't stand it.

I press on until I reach the treeline, with the silver circles that Corporal Keller promised. There is a giant digital clock planted in the ground, with the red numbers twirling onward. Placing my foot on the disk halts the timer completely. My damned right foot, I wish I could cut it off.

Two minutes and forty-six seconds. I don't even care about the time at this point. I trained enough for the island run that the numbers don't bother me. I just lost to this twerp, who is circling around his timer with his hands on his head. Two minutes and thirty-four seconds for him. That should have never happened. I should have the better time, not him. I was doing so well until that tree came out of nowhere. I can't believe this.

There is a gravel trail that leads to the off to the right, with a wooden sign pointing around the curve, indicating the direction to the facility. I can't live with this self-humiliation anymore. I'll let the kid catch his breath and sit there in his staggering time while I'll take my leave. I don't want to think about this. Hopefully he doesn't go gloating about how he just outran, no sorry, got lucky against Slater Tross in a stupid Imperial Guard race. I wouldn't hear the end of it.

I guess I'll have to find out his name some other day.