Next: Coming First: you're here /!\ The following contains themes that might not be suitable for everyone. /!\ When the new military academy accepted him, he felt like he could grow wings and fly off into the sunset of pure happiness and excitement. He was finally going to meet his hero, who was rumoured to be giving the opening speech. No one knew if it was true or not, but he sure hoped it was. Lots prayed to be like the commander. With all his triumphs and glories, the Battle of Arvados being a huge gain for the Nightfores, Rowan thought he could picture what lay beyond Trehunter’s steady expression, his mind a battlefield. He wondered if the commander really wanted everyone to be like him, to idolise him as much as they did. After all, the legacy on his name took a sharp turn when he joined the military and fought for his home, for his name. For the bloodshed to be riddled away. Rowan shook his head. If that was the case, the name now held the blood of those Trehunter had fought. And of those he blamed himself for. As he was lead through the large room of the conference hall, the red velvet seats contoured the muted denim floor, the whole room looking like a classic theatre. The stage was slightly raised and didn’t stand out to him, but the big holoscreen on the wall did. It had the title of the presentation on it, he could barely read it. Sitting smack in the middle, the Nightfore to his left scoffed. “Let’s see how well this goes. And whether or not the commander shows up,” Rolling his brown eyes, Rowan kept his snide comments to himself. Echoes of voices drifted on the stale, dry air. The Headmistress marched onto the stage in a black suit jacket and tight knee-level skirt, as though she was going to a business meeting. “Everyone, hush!” she said into her microphone. Just like a breeze before a storm, the voices fell quiet quickly. Her glasses glimmered in the hard lighting. A scar above her eyebrow highlighted her purplish-ocean fur. “This is the fourth year since Rivers Memorial Military Academy has been active, and it certainly won’t be the last. However, we do have a special guest that we promised would be here with us. He’s going to give you the opening orientation speech!” While she spoke, his breath constricted. So Trehunter was here! “Everyone, please welcome Commander Void Trehunter!” she opened her arms wide and glanced to the right of the stage. Trehunter walked onto the stage with a military-grade rifle in his arms, ready to shoot. His prosthetic eye glowed dimly. He wore some chest plating and a regular military uniform. A microphone was visible on his left ear, and he was smiling. Everyone was hanging onto the edge of their seats as he saluted the audience, facing them. Eagerness sparked inside him. His idol. Was there. In front of him. The commander’s eyes surveyed the crowd. “Ah, yes,” he smiled brightly, everyone holding onto their breath. “Welcome to RMMA, following Lieutenant Rivers’ dream! She was a good friend of mine, and an even better mentor. She always wanted to open a military school of her own, where they actually trained you FOR the military, not whatever the other schools do, according to her,” Commander Trehunter adjusted his grip on his gun. His eyes caught Rowan’s, or so it felt like it. Rowan couldn’t believe he was even in the same room as the commander, let alone looking him in the eye. His prosthetic eye was a dark grey with a triangular white pupil, a strip of lighter grey metal stretching to his jaw with two cyan dots. When it was staring directly at him, Rowan felt a little light-headed, terrified. The commander ran a hand through his hair and started talking about the military itself, with all its core careers and how it was run. The holoscreen behind him posed no use, he just talked, pacing with the gun situated like he was going to fire. “Now, you might be wondering why I have this gun, or the armour that has literally no protection whatsoever on the battlefield,” he faced the crowd again, arms wide. Some nodded. Rowan raised an eyebrow. “Well,” he handed the gun to the Headmistress. “Might as well show you what you’re going to be using in training, hm?” He backed away from her, arms still wide, welcoming a shot while he explained. “This particular gun can hold eighteen rounds, not bad, but for lack of shots, it’s quite powerful,” he chuckled. “And for the armour I’m wearing? It’s training armour. Not as strong as armour you’d wear in battle, and way less heavy. You ready, Major Nokamis?” She clicked her tongue. Rowan forget that Headmistress Nokamis was a retired veteran. “Ready.” “Fire!” he shouted, clipping the mic by accident. She pulled back on the trigger and everyone gasped as Trehunter stumbled backwards, a blue paint splatter on the plating, over his heart. [cont.]
She shot him again, this time in the leg. He stood his ground, breathing deep. And then she shot him in the head. Commander Trehunter fell to the ground with an “OH!” Rubbing his temple, his expression was shaken. “What the heck was that for?” The Headmistress laughed and crossed her way over to him, holding out her hand. He grabbed her wrist and yanked her down, somehow managing to use her weight to hoist himself up with a roll, Nokamis taking his spot on the floor, gun askew. “You’re still a terrible aim, I see,” he tsked and turned towards the students. Rowan exhaled sharply, unable to rip his gaze from the blue pain splatter at the side of Trehunter’s face. Trehunter started to laugh, clapping his hands together. “You still stand your ground well, though,” she pointed out, dusting herself off. “Anyways, it doesn’t hurt as much as you think it does. The knockback is, uh, strong, I guess? It’s hard to tell anymore,” he shrugged. “I don’t want to waste more of your time, but selection sheets that will be handed out are to a specific component in the military. For example, you can choose to be a soldier, frontlines and all, or you can choose to be control or maintenance or,” he snapped his fingers as though his words were escaping him. “Eh, I wouldn’t worry about the others for now,” Nokamis passed him the rifle. He took it graciously, though he seemed very uncomfortable. He started to go over the different exercises that he put his soldiers through to make sure they were fit and ready for any mission. When he brushed over the war like it was nothing, a couple whispers broke out. The commander ignored them, instead raising his gun and aiming at the crowd. “Three shots have been fired from this gun, and it had a full mag, so that’s fifteen rounds left. I wouldn’t feel guilty shooting anyone,” he shrugged. “I honestly wouldn’t. If you’re ready to be quiet we’ve got one more topic to talk about before we get to questions,” he growled, glaring. Rowan swallowed hard; his red fur bristled. He didn’t want to get shot, and he wasn’t even talking! The whispers died as soon as Trehunter stopped, and he dropped the gun at his side. “Thank you. If you talk when I order you to be quiet, there’s a good chance you might die before I have the chance to kill you myself,” he growled louder. “Now, we didn’t want to mention this, but I certainly don’t want my daughter growing up without her father…” he trailed off, biting his lip before shaking his head. “And I wish I could save you all the trouble, but…” He sucked in a breath, everyone anticipating in suspense. Rowan’s heart was dancing furiously in his chest. “This war has been the bloodiest since the Great Divide. We’ve lost too many of our own and if we want to win, we need to draft in more soldiers,” he started pacing again, trying to keep his tone steady. “We didn’t want to have it come to this, and yet, here I am. Over the course of the next four years, every four weeks there will be an assessment to pick apart the strong from the weak. Those you pass with high marks will be drafted in. Those who didn’t will train until the next assessment and so forth.” His eyes sailed over the crowd, taking in everyone’s reactions. “We cannot afford more deaths. Thereof, I am sorry to say, but this has now turned into do—” he growled, his tone bitter. “—or die.” Hollow, Rowan furrowed his brow. The war was getting to be too much for Trehunter, and he could see why. With all the deaths he had to face, all the bullets flying, enemies to kill, the stress and how often he got to see his family, it was hard. Dreaded silence hung over the audience like death waiting to take its next victim. Everyone was holding onto Trehunter’s words, the commander’s anger drifting over their heads. Nearly a season later, Rowan’s assessment was watched over by the current lieutenant, war hero Adaja Foxster. She wrote his name down, and soon he was drafted, no longer in RMMA than he hoped. [End of chapter] + Art & Story by @CatsClawz07 + All characters belong to me as well + Music - Trials - STARSET
