It’s odd and distorted being back at the academy. Everything is smaller like the place shrunk to half its normal size. The cadets marching and jogging around the campus are younger than they should be. They’re too eager, too light, too happy to be ready for what happens beyond these walls.

Buckler, along with a handful of Centrum’s top officials, are here. They are tasked with reporting the Elite Squad's first unsuccessful mission and how we lost a valued officer. 

The captain and Kane position themselves on either side of Cole. We take our seats around the commander’s conference room. Stagnant remnants of old cigar smoke linger on every surface. The blinds are drawn this time and with the amount of people in the closed space it’s stifling.

We’ve all stayed silent since entering the transport back to the wall. It was an uncomfortable ride. The squad watched Cole. And he watched Luce, still unconscious. Guarded looks passed between us when he did break his vigil. He's shut down. Because of what he learned or what happened to the general. Or maybe because he has the same mind as his dad when it comes to me. 

Addy takes a seat next to me at the end of the table. She was forced from Luce’s side in the clinic. Water and coffee sit in front of each of us, and I’m the first to reach for the coffee. My skin soaks up the warmth seeping from the yellow mug. I can't get warm and I'm fighting exhaustion.

“Just a few more minutes, warriors. We’ve made accommodations for you to get cleaned up and get some food.” The commander holds a thick, unlit cigar between his teeth. My stomach growls with the thought of a hot meal.

“Thank you, Commander Reed.” General Fallow enters first.

He's followed by Buckler and three other men in the white and gold suits of Centrum’s political leadership.

“General Botond went straight to the clinic and gave instructions to proceed without him.” Buckler takes a seat and begins.

“We’ve already been briefed by the tech team on their mission report. This is the Elite's formal account before your dismissed for much needed rest.” Buckler taps the touch screen in front of him. The table’s holographic display lights up.

“Director Greene.” Buckler nods to the suit on his right.

The man’s pinched, wrinkled face smooths out when his gaze passes over us. His eyes linger on Cole and his heart rate spikes before settling.

“Thank you, colonel. First, let me offer my condolences to Warrior Targe.”

Cole shifts in his seat and gives a nod in acceptance.

“We’ve lost a great warrior, leader, and father today. May he rest honorably in peace with our ancestors.”

Murmurs of agreement sound from the head of the table while the rest of us fight to sit still.

“There are only a few additions needed to complete the mission report. We compiled the data collected from your communication tech and eye witness accounts from the transport team.” Green continues.

I sit back bringing the bitter hot coffee to my lips. Greene clears his throat and reads from the tablet in his hands.

“General Targe reported your technology disconnected three miles into the Mist. Why did you disable your equipment?” His question is directed to the captain.

“The technology was disconnected from mission control. Not from our end.” She responds without elaborating.

“Can we assume the technology was not field ready? Both parties report it wasn't disabled from their end?” 

“No.” Cole’s voice cracks, answering the director.

He reaches for the glass of water in front of him. Draining half of it before setting it down with a force that rattles the surrounding cups.

“The technology was turned off from mission control. The comms were operable among the squad and the tracking device kept the last heading received.” Cole sounds removed, sedate, but the tremors in his fingers tell a hard suppressed storm. “I was the only handler at all times. Data will show the squad’s equipment transmitted locally.” 

“And why would the general report otherwise?” Greene asks.

The silence that proceeds his question is grating. No one can answer that but the general, even if we all have our own theories. 

“Very well. Let's move on to when your tracker came back online the next morning. General Targe led the back up team to your location for retrieval.” Greene types on his tablet.

My legs start to bounce underneath the table. Maybe caffeine wasn’t such a good idea. I slide the cup away from me and Addy pushes down on my thigh for me to still. We’re about to get to the damning parts and I can’t help but look at Cole. The team will wait to meet privately about my abilities and decide what to do together. But Cole is the wild card. He’s angry and I'm not sure with who. 

“The next relay came from General Targe requesting a transport vehicle. And he reported the Elite Squad KIA.” Greene takes us in, alive and well, and stops his examination at Cole. “Yet here you are.”

“I can’t account for the general’s perspective or actions.” The captain answers.

I lower my eyes to the overly polished wood grain table top to hide my surprise. I'm not the only one that can evade and deny convincingly.

“No, we don’t expect you to, captain.” Buckler leans over the table. He's our direct command and support. I want to be relieved he's here but the awkward energy between him and the captain gives me pause. 

“Yes, the colonel is right. Let’s see if you can shed some light on the footage we retrieved from the general’s cam.”

My stomach drops and Addy squeezes my leg. I thought we were the only ones with the specialized tech to record in the Mist. My mind races through everything that happened when Targe was around. It's too much. Greene taps a few times and a grainy image lights up the holographic display. 

The shot is from the ground at an angle. Rushing warrior uniform legs fill the screen. Targe must have thrown the camera to the ground right when his infected warriors went into attack mode. His commands are muffled and the back up team's combat boots race after Targe's warriors. Then bodies drop, scattered all around, dead.

Kane’s anguished roar breaks through. And a blurry streak darts between rushing boots. Holden’s head rolls to the camera, his neon eyes dimming. The picture turns black and all goes quiet. “Seize him.” The general’s command crackles into something undecipherable and the holograph blinks out.

“What did we just see, captain?” Greene’s voice is tight, hostile. “Why was one of our warriors beheaded by a warrior weapon?”

The captain is silent, staring at the table. Greene pulls up the image of Holden’s head on the ground.

“Captain, you will answer the question.” The chubby suit next to Greene speaks calmly. “We may not be warrior born. But rest assured we know the difference between a demon attack and the clean cut of a warrior weapon.”

And he’s right. There is no mistaking the precise slice of a blade. My warrior blade.

“The general’s warriors went crazy and attacked us.” Fletcher leans across the table gesturing to the image.

“Control yourself, warrior.” Although offended by the outburst, Greene leans in for Fletcher to continue.

“Sir.” The captain draws his attention. “I apologize for my warrior. We have never been up against such odds. And he is correct. You can clearly hear in the recording General Targe attempting to control his warriors. They would not obey, and they did not stand down. Attacking us, before turning on themselves.”

“Are you saying the back up team attacked you and then turned on each other?” Greene slams the table leaning over to the captain.

“It’s unbelievable, but we’ve viewed the evidence ourselves several times.” Buckler nods with a sorrowful expression as he stares at the image.

“How could this happen?” Director Greene turns to Buckler. “And are we to expect more out of control warriors?”

His face reddens and the veins in his neck pulse with his short breaths. The other suits sit up and survey us cautiously as if we’re about to lose control right now.

“Of course not. This has never happened in our history. We are blood born to protect this nation and its people. They must have encountered something in the Mist we haven’t seen before.” General Fallow says.

Buckler leans close to whisper in Greene's ear. “They were part of the Paragon program.” 

His words are like a balm to the overheated politician. And I have to bite my cheek to keep my expression blank. What the hell is Paragon? If not for my abilities I would have missed it. 

“Right, yes.” Greene clears his throat like a nervous tick.

“Captain, this mission will be recorded as null. We don’t expect you to succeed under extraordinary circumstances. And we feel a blight on our nation’s top warriors is not what the community needs right now.”

They want us to keep quiet about the mission. Keep the people obliviously happy in their false sense of security. It was not a failure, it was a void, stricken from the records. I wonder how many times they’ve chosen to omit mission archives.

“And what about the voice recording Sergeant Gray reported of General Targe and Oren's…”

“All other information or details are top security clearance only. This is a confidential, open investigation and you will uphold your sworn duty to keep it that way. Understood, captain?” Greene’s beady eyes narrow, measuring her.  

“Yes sir.” The captain says.

That’s it? My body stutters still and my warrior marks ignite. No official statement for Targe’s confession to my family’s innocence. Or inquiry of the other modified warriors still unnamed among us. They’re just going to bury their heads in the sand. Business as usual. Addy pinches my thigh in a burning twist bringing me painfully back to myself. 

“You’re dismissed, Elites. We head back to Centrum in two hours. Chow is in the mess hall. Oren can show you to the showers.” Buckler stays seated with the suits as we all rise and salute. 

He nods our dismissal. And I mechanically move to the door. I should be glad I wasn’t captured in the recording. Relieved to keep my secret. But the start of this investigation conceals more than reveals. And my years of quiet, unearned guilt, my outcast acceptance is molten now. A purging rage simmers deep inside since my time with Targe in the Mist.

“Warrior Targe, you’re needed for a few minutes more.” Buckler gestures for him to sit back down.

He obeys with a blank, hard stare at the table. The captain hesitates and moves to sit back down too.

“That’ll be all, captain.” Buckler glares at her to obey his dismissal.

When she stands without moving, I take a step towards her. Addy tugs my sleeve with a shake of her head in warning. 

“Yes, sir.” The captain marches to the exit. 

We fall in line behind her. I turn back to Cole and meet his dead stare through the closing door.