The food court hummin’ with low convo, boots scuffin’ metal floors, officers barkin’ at folk like they got nothin’ better to do. Air dense with the smell of reheated rations—salt, grease, and somethin’ that might’ve been protein once. Lingers on you, stick to your skin. Ain’t no runnin’ from it. No matter how hard you train, how bad you wanna be somethin’ more, you still just another body in the system.

  I grab my tray, slide into a seat at an empty table. Lanny and Canny drop they trays down like they tryna wake the dead.

  “Tell me why we’re still acting like this is edible,” Lanny mutters, pokin’ at the lump on his plate.

  Canny smirks. “Because if we don’t, we’ll start asking worse questions—like what the hell it actually is.”

  I take a bite. It’s nasty. But it’s fuel. That’s it.

  Next thing we know, some big dude plops down like we invited him. Grinnin’, shovelin’ food like it’s the best thing he ever had.

  “Ah, damn, this hits the spot.” He pats his stomach. “So, what’s good, boys?”

  Lanny squints. “I’m sorry—who the hell are you?”

  Dude grins wider. “Huck. And you’re Lanny, you’re Canny, and you—” he point his fork at me, “—you’re the one that thinks he’s gonna be a hero.”

  I stare at him. “How you know that?”

  “People talk.” Huck shrugs. “You train like you mean it. Hard not to notice.”

  Lanny shakes his head. “More importantly, how’d you end up here?”

  Before Huck can answer, movement at another table catch my eye. Min-Joon sittin’ low, eatin’ in silence. Three cadets hoverin’ over him, pressin’ down on his shoulders like they own him.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Damn, Min-Joon,” one of ‘em laughs, squeezin’ his shoulder so hard he flinch. “That shooting yesterday? You were a machine. We should all take notes.”

  Min-Joon’s eyebrows knot. Just for a second. Then they go still. Learned not to react.

  The dude rufflin’ his hair stand out. Korin. Lean, built, the type that try way too hard to let folks know he strong. Laughin’, but ain’t no humor in it.

  I grip my fork tighter.

  Lanny notice first. “Don’t.”

  I stand up.

  “Vortex—” Canny warns.

  I don’t listen.

  I cross the room in a few steps and stop behind Korin’s group. “Fuck off.”

  The laughin’ die. Korin turn slow, eyes runnin’ me up and down. He my height, maybe a little broader, but I see the way he straighten up.

  “What are you gonna do about it?”

  I don’t answer. I slam my forehead into his face.

  Korin lurch back with a snarl, blood spillin’ down his lips. The slap of bone on bone still ringin’ in my ears. His boys step up, but he throw a hand out, stoppin’ them. Silence stretch for a moment—then he chuckle.

  “I’ve heard about you,” he says, grinnin’. “The wannabe hero.”

  He step closer, voice droppin’ low.

  “You’re not gonna make it.”

  He says it real slow.

  “Not after this.”

  His smirk widen.

  “And then? You’re gonna regret messing with me.”

  I don’t blink. Don’t react. But my fists clench.

  Korin and his crew walk off, laughin’ like this just another game.

  Min-Joon keep his head down, but his jaw tight. Fork tremblin’ in his hand like he tryna force himself to keep eatin’. Ain’t no real winnin’ here—only survivin’.

  I sit back down.

  Lanny exhale sharp. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “They mean what they say,” Canny adds. “Word is, back in school, they crippled people who crossed them.”

  I don’t say nothin’.

  Huck, still shovelin’ food, shake his head. “Man, you got guts, but that’s a bad investment.”

  “Forget them.” Canny stretch, crack her knuckles. “They’re on our side, anyway. Bullying’s just normal here.” She gesture at our trays. “You know who we should actually hate?”

  Lanny smirk bitter. “The Elites.”

  “The ones under Romeo?” I ask.

  Canny nod. “Handpicked. Special treatment. Better gear, better pay, better food—” she flick a piece of whatever-we-eatin’ off her fork, “—which is personally offensive.”

  Lanny shake his head. “Bet it’s the same on the battlefield. We go in first, get wrecked, and they take the credit.”

  I hit my fork down harder than I meant to.

  I ain’t tryna be somebody else’s steppin’ stone.

  I ain’t come here to make nobody look good while I bleed in the dirt.

  Korin might make things difficult, but he ain’t the real enemy.

  The system is.

  And I’ma prove I don’t belong at the bottom.

  I’ma climb ‘til I’m standin’ over them all.