Point of View: Patton, Third Person
Timeline: Beginning of WWIII

"Name?" The man asked, not sparing Patton more than a glance. He held a thin, black stylus over the tablet in his hands which currently had a massive Excel document pulled up - filled with names.

He looked bored out of his mind sitting at the dark brown desk that had been moved into the auditorium strictly for sign-ins. His salt and pepper hair was cut to military regulation and even the man's dark eyebrows seemed to frown at Patton disapprovingly.

"Uh, Patton Foster," Patton responded quickly. This man clearly didn't want to start a conversation.

The man scrolled up. "P-A-T-T-O-N? You're 29?" he questioned.

"Yup - uh, yes," Patton stuttered, wincing a bit at his stutter. Did people in the military say 'Yup?' He didn't think so.

"You're in Squad 424. Take a seat in row T," The man grunted, before gesturing towards the seemingly endless rows of navy blue seats that filled the large auditorium. "Once everyone in your squad has arrived, you'll be taken to your bunker."

"Okay, thank-"

"Next in line, step up," the man interrupted, dark eyes returning back to his tablet.

Hastily, Patton moved out of the way - grabbing his duffel bag, doing as he was told.

Patton made is way down the left side of the auditorium - wow, there were so many seats - quietly noting the letters marked at the end of each row. When he reached the letter T Patton stopped, noticing the person sitting at the end of the aisle.

He was smartly dressed in a black polo and black and blue tie; he was undeniably handsome. He seemed to notice Patton instantly, closing the book he had been reading, Astrophysics for People in a Hurry.

"Ah, salutations," The man said, closing the book, after quickly taking note of the page. He reached into his own bag - a medium-sized black duffle - and pulled out a clipboard. After taking a quick look, the man got to his feet and held out his hand. "Patton Foster?"

"Patton Foster," Patton confirmed, trying hard to match this man's sophisticated mannerisms. He silently wondered if he looked as out of place as he felt.

His bright blue polo and cat hoodie that hung over his shoulders was normal back at home, but he doubted the same applied here. Perhaps here he just looked childish and soft, perhaps he should have left the hoodie in his bag...

"Pleasure," The man commented, adjusting his glasses and jolting Patton back to the conversation. "I am your Squad Leader, Sergeant Logan Holmes."

"Hey! We have the same glasses!" Patton blurted out, grinning madly at the discovery.

Unfortunately, Logan did not seem as impressed, merely raising an eyebrow in response.

"Please leave your bag against the wall," Logan gestured to the wall a few paces away. "And take your seat. Ideally, we shall depart shortly to the bunker once the others arrive," he said calmly, stepping out of the way and making room for Patton to enter the aisle.

Patton meekly did as he was told, cheeks pink. He quickly scanned the seat numbers, wincing a bit as he realized the seats were listed by odd numbers, and that his was right next to Logan's.

The two men sat in silence with Logan embedded deep into his book and leaving Patton squirming uncomfortably in his seat for what felt like forever. Already making a fool of myself...

"Greetings! My name is Roman Prince!"

Patton looked up, curiously to see another man at the end of the aisle. He was dressed in a white button-up, with a bright red and gold tie. His unexpectedly happy smile made him stand out, as did his shining personality.

Logan stood, holding a hand out to the man. "Salutations."

"Likewise," Roman agreed quickly, shaking Logan's hand firmly. "And you are...?"

"I am Sergeant Logan Holmes, your Squad Leader."

Roman frowned at that, but didn't say anything.

"Now," Logan continued. "Please leave your duffel bag against the wall and take your seat, we shall be moving into the bunker once everyone arrives," Logan repeated, stepping aside as he did for Patton.

Roman did as he was told, taking a seat right several seats down. But after a moment he stood, collapsing in the seat next to Patton. "Hello," he greeted, holding out his hand. "Roman Prince."

"Patton Foster," Patton shook his hand, before pointing to his many suitcases. "You like Disney?" he asked, noticing that Roman's duffel was covered in tiny Mickey Mouse ear outlines.

Roman gasped, throwing a dramatic hand over his heart. "I ADORE DISNEY."

Patton couldn't help as he giggled at his response. "What's your favorite movie?" he asked.

"How dare I pick between any of my darling babies?" Roman threw a hand over his heart dramatically. "But... if I HAD to, I would say it would have to be... Aladdin. What's your favorite?"

Patton flushed. "Winnie the Pooh. It's always been my favorite, ever since I was a kid."

The two continued their conversation for a while, getting to know each other better. Quietly, Patton was grateful that he was getting along so well with his future bunkmate.

"Salutations," Logan said and both men stopped with their conversation to take a look at the newcomer. "Virgil Lavender?"

The man was the oddest looking of them all, with purple-dyed hair that hadn't been cut to military regulation yet and his bangs hung over his eyes. Logan frowned disapprovingly, but he didn't say anything at the moment.

The man didn't give a verbal response, just a small nod.

"Hello, I am your Squad Leader, Logan Holmes. Please place your things on the wall and take your seat. We shall be leaving as soon as the rest arrive."

Virgil nodded, doing as he was told. He sat one seat down from Roman, curling into his seat and sliding a pair of earbuds in his ears before either of us could even try to say hello.

Patton was so entranced by this new stranger, he didn't even notice that another person had approached their row.

Like the other man, he looked... interesting. He had a tattoo on the side of his face and disappearing down his shirt, patterned to look like snakeskin. He even had a yellow snake eye contact on the same side as his tattoo to match. Patton shifted, uneasily hoping that the man wouldn't sit next to him.

There was just something about him... Patton didn't like it.

"... Deceit," The man said, tipping the black derby hat on his head towards Logan.

"Salutations," Logan returned, voice short and clipped. "Please place your things on the wall and take your seat. Hopefully, we shall be leaving shortly once everyone arrives."

"How many more of us are there?" Patton mused aloud, as Deceit made his way to his seat, settling next to Roman.

"3," Logan replied. "But that's under the assumption that everyone shows, which at this time," Logan glanced at his wrist, at the black watch that rested there. "Seems improbable as sign-ins close in an hour."

No one approached their row for another 45 minutes, and Patton felt nervous butterflies in his stomach. Where were they? Didn't they know the consequences of not showing up? Patton had to admit that he wasn't keen on being in this position himself, but -

"PLEASE, PLEASE!" A man cried out, getting dragged into the auditorium and generally causing a scene. "PLEASE I - I CAN'T! PLEASE SOMEONE HELP ME!"

And Patton was on his feet, more than ready to leap over the seats to go help this stranger. Why was no one helping him? All these people, and not a single person -

"Foster," Logan said softly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Sit."

"W-Why are - How can - can you j-just sit there and - and watch this?" Patton asked, dumbfounded, waving a hand in the man's direction. "Please, let me help him."

Logan shook his head. "There's nothing you can do. He's been drafted, he has to do this."

"How do you know that?" Patton argued, trying to push past Logan. But Logan was clearly stronger than he appeared and held Patton in his place.

"Private Foster, take your seat. I will not ask again," Logan frowned, disapprovingly.

"I'm sorry sir, but I can't just sit here and watch," Patton shook his head, pulling away from Logan and making his way towards the end of the aisle - in the opposite direction as Logan. Once he reached the end of the row - whispering apologies to his fellow squad members as he passed by - Patton jogged down towards the front of the auditorium. "Hey!"

The security guards paid Patton no attention, but the man being held by them gasped at the sight. "Please!" he cried out. "Please I - I'm not going to make it, I'm not going to make it through! Please! Please, help me! I'm going to die!"

"Hey, hey, just breathe," Patton reassured. "Everything is going to be okay, kiddo," he lied, noticing how the man at the desk nodded as the sobbing man was unwillingly signed in, and officially enlisted in the US Army.

Logan was right, there was nothing he could do.

"Squad 424, Row T," The man at the desk relayed to the guards.

Squad 424... this man... he's in my squad.

"Uh, hey guys! That's my squad," Patton cut in, grabbing hold on the sobbing man's hand. "I can take him from here."

The security guards looked uneasy, glancing between each other nervously. "He's a runner."

"I'll be fine," Patton encouraged. "I'll calm him down."

The security guards shrugged, letting go of the man and tossing his duffel on the floor beside them.

But instead of running, like Patton thought, the man seemed drained just stood there - numb, as tears made their way down his cheeks.

"Hey there, kiddo," Patton coaxed, gently giving the man a small smile and using the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe away the man's tears. "What's your name?"

"Thomas, Thomas Sanders," the man whispered, more tears trickling over his cheeks and falling to the floor before Patton could stop them.

"Nice to meet ya, Thomas. My name's Patton," Patton explained, grabbing Thomas's duffel and hanging the strap over his shoulder. "I'm part of your squad. How about I take you to your seat, m'kay?"

Thomas nodded slowly, but he was still crying when the two of them reached their row. Patton avoided looking at Logan and slowly guided Thomas to his seat, which was between Roman and Virgil.

Thomas sniffled, wiping away some more tears. "Are... are those cat paws on the sleeves of your hoodie?" he asked, pointing once he was seated.

"Yup! I love cats! What about you?"

"Oh, I'm allergic."

"Me too!"

Thomas stared at him for a moment, before laughing a little -

Patton felt a hand on his shoulder and a sinking feeling filled his stomach. "Private Foster, a word." Logan interrupted lowly, just loud enough for Patton to hear.

Sighing with dread, Patton nodded, obediently following Logan to the end of the aisle.

Logan crossed his arms over his chest firmly. "I'd like to remind you that I am your superior. And you disobeyed my orders."

Patton flinched at the thinly-veiled fury in his voice. It somehow made it worse that he wasn't yelling, as Patton had braced himself to expect when he signed up.

"From this moment further, everything I say you will consider gospel. If I say to shoot that man, you shoot him. If I say to sit down, you sit," Logan gritted his teeth. "And you know why? Because I am being paid to keep you alive, and therefore you will obey my every command if you want to see the other side of this war.

"Normally, I would make the entire squad pay for your actions, but seeing as you did manage to calm Mr. Sanders down," Logan gestured to Thomas. "I shall let it pass. Don't let it happen again, or I won't be as forgiving," Logan finished, gesturing to Patton's seat. "Now please sit."

Patton quickly took his seat, cheeks pink with shame.

Another ten or so minutes passed by, and no one showed up.

Logan got to his feet. "I doubt anyone else is coming, sign-ins close in 5 minutes," Logan decided. "It's time to go, everyone grab your things and follow me," Logan ordered.

A loud huff came from the guy with the snake tattoo. "You aren't going to wait five more minutes?"

Logan narrowed his eyes. "No, no I am not going to wait," Logan said firmly, adjusting his glasses decisively. "And I know what you're doing, and you might as well not even bother, as there is nothing you can do to be kicked out."

Deceit smirked at that. "Well, we'll see about that, hm?"

Logan frowned but didn't say anything more about it. "Follow me."

"Or what?" Deceit challenged.

Logan glared at him, taking a step towards Deceit. "To put it simply, Deceit, I am the best option you have left. And because of that, you are going to follow me," he said, grabbing his duffel bag and marching towards the back of the auditorium without so much as a glance behind him.

Patton followed behind him, trying not to make it obvious how much Logan's words affected him. I am the best option you have left. Not a good option. Not even a decent option.

I am the best option you have left.

But Patton had to admit: he wasn't wrong.

____________________
This was just such an interesting concept to me, I just had to write it. What do you guys think? This will be... fun.