ON THE MILITARY COMPOUND, Rune and Lowe enter the barracks room with bags from a convenience store. Rune's gaze immediately falls upon the military gear strewn across his bed, a symbol of missed opportunity. The room, typically a space for camaraderie and preparation, now feels suffused with tension as the door slams shut behind them.

Rune paces with frustration as Lowe leans against a bunk bed, nodding with understanding.

"This is bullshit, man!" Rune erupts. "I was ready!"

"No doubt. They fumbled the ball on this one," Lowe concurs, his voice laced with empathy, recognizing Rune's unmatched dedication compared to his peers.

"Strategic, they said. What's the strategy?"

Lowe adds a touch of humor to the frustration, recalling the conversation he had with Rune at the convenience store. "Seriously, man, a seminar in clear communication wouldn't hurt them. You'd teach that class. Heck, Poston herself would back that claim."

The tension remains, but Lowe continues to shift the conversation to a more constructive tone. "Okay, what's our game plan? The decision's out of our hands, but how we respond isn't."

Rune, pausing in his pacing, considers the suggestion. "You're right. I need to figure out why this happened, get some clarity. It's the only way I'll move forward."

Lowe, now fully engaged in problem-solving mode, nods in agreement. "Let's find out why this happened, and then decide your next move. And remember, this mess doesn't define you." The room transforms from a space of frustration to one of determination as Rune and Lowe prepare to unravel the mystery behind Rune's exclusion from the deployment.

"Let's head to the admin office. I need answers, and I need them now."

Lowe pushes himself off the bunk bed. "Right behind you, bro. We'll get to the bottom of this." He grabs the wet bags and places them gently on the counter.

As they leave the barracks room, Rune and Lowe encounter Gardner, another soldier who was excluded from the mission, carrying his gear out of his room. Rune's mood is charged with shared frustration. "Gardner, what the hell happened in there? Dropping us like that."

Gardner, shouldering his gear, shrugs with a mix of disappointment and understanding. "Yeah. No heads up, no explanation. But it's not personal. It's strategy. Our jobs didn't make the cut, you know?"

Lowe, standing beside Rune, listens as Gardner explains. "Our MOS? What's that got to do with anything? Cuz my job is to shoot photos, and I'm going on this deployment."

"Apparently, the folks on this deployment have a job that aligns with the mission. Right? Then, there's that new situation that no one knows about. If you're still on the mission, I guess your job might be considered necessary somehow."

Rune, frustrated, interjects. "Necessary? I'm a Cyber Systems Operator. I would think that's pretty freaking necessary. Besides, we were all trained to do the SAME job for this deployment, as military police. It shouldn't matter what our job is. We're a team, damn it."

Gardner, calm in his response, tries to bring perspective. "I get it... But sometimes, these decisions boil down to the finer details."

Undeterred, Rune presses on, "Well, we're headed to the admin office right now. If they're going to cut me out of a deployment for the third time, I want to know what those finer details are!"

Rune and Lowe step out into the steady drizzle that slicks the pavement beneath their boots, each raindrop a quiet reminder of the simmering tension neither wants to address. By the time they reach the admin office, the low hum of rainfall has soaked into their mood, dulling the anticipation they'd carried.

They exchange a look as they spot the Staff Duty soldier inside, alone, the glow of a digital book casting faint light across the wall as he swipes through virtual pages. The emptiness of the room, combined with the rain that clings to their fatigues, feels like a silent, unspoken answer to their unvoiced questions.

"Whoa! What're you reading?" Lowe asks.

"The Silent Echo Protocol. Even though it's fiction, the story is filled with covert strategies and tactics." The book stirs something in this soldier—a curiosity, a desire to dig deeper. For a moment, he even considers how he'd handle a situation like the ones described, letting his imagination wander into the investigative world he dreams of entering one day.

Rune's impatience bubbles over. "Hey, we heard the office would be open late for deployment prep. What gives?"

The staff duty soldier, apologetic yet helpless, can only offer, "They've clocked out. They have lives too, you know?"

Lowe, trying to keep the conversation productive, chimes in. "Look," glances at his name, "Private Banx, we need to find out why the sudden change of mission personnel. Do you know anything about that? Or maybe point us in the direction with someone who can explain?"

Banx, amused by investigative efforts, nods. "Tomorrow, I can let someone know you were here, looking for them. Will that work for you guys?"

Rune, though not thrilled, reluctantly agrees.

As Banx assures them, the door to the back office creaks open.

The air shifts. The kind of shift that makes people straighten without realizing why, instinct tightening its grip before the mind catches up.

If tension had a sound, it would rise here—low, thrumming, a pulse beneath the surface. The weight of the moment, thick as a held breath.

A woman's silhouette cuts through the dim light, time bending around her like a ripple in still water. Reality slows, making space for her, stretching the seconds as she steps into the room.

Remaining calm and precise, she locks the door.

Slowly pockets the access card in her black Obsidian jacket.

Her outfit is a blend of sleek, modern rebellion—the kind of look that makes people glance twice, not sure if they're curious or cautious. Or both.

Then, she lifts her head. The teal of her gaze is electric.

With unspoken confidence, she moves. No hesitation. No regard for who's watching. A presence that doesn't ask for space—it takes it. The kind of movement that doesn't just turn heads—it shifts the room.

The boys are caught in her gravity. She's magnetic—striking teal eyes, sharp features carved by shadow and light, dark hair twisted into a messy updo that gives her a wild edge.

For a moment, she looks familiar. But with a look like hers, how could he forget? Rune registers it before he understands why, but the thought slips away, drowned out by her aura.

He straightens, refocusing. "Ma'am, do you work here?"

"How observant." A backhanded compliment laced with sarcasm.

Her voice is smooth but edged with impatience, the kind of tone that lets people know they've already wasted her time. She strides past them toward the exit, her gait making them feel a step behind.

"We were hoping to get some answers about the mission."

She stops. Turning just enough to let her gaze settle on them, assessing.

"I admire the determination, but my day is done. I'm not sticking around for late-night mysteries. Come back in the morning."

Rune nods.

She doesn't wait for more. A glance, dismissive, then she steps off again.

Each step measured, unhurried, as if the air itself bends in her wake. The Nebula weave of her pants barely makes a sound as she moves, silent as the inevitable. Then—she's gone. Vanishing into the darkness of the compound.

The moment lingers, waiting for the last note of a song that never actually played.

Banx exhales, shaking his head slightly. "Damn. How do you think her eyes got like that?"

No one answers, but they know—she didn't just leave. She left them standing in her wake.

Lowe, his thoughts momentarily wandering to the comfort of his home, glances at Rune. "I have to get going too. Sara should be home by now and probably wondering where I am." The mention of his wife adds a layer of urgency to his departure, a reminder of the personal stakes involved for each of them.

Rune nods, a forced smile briefly crossing his face. "Yeah, go ahead. I'll be fine." But as Lowe turns to leave, Rune's expression fades to one of contemplation.

"Hey, man, you gonna be okay?" There is deep-seated concern in Lowe's voice. "Remember, it's Friday night. Try to enjoy yourself." Rune nods again, and Lowe takes off.

Once Lowe is gone, the stillness of the night presses in on Rune. The rain has subsided, leaving the air thick with moisture and the faint scent of wet earth. His mind races with possibilities and strategies.

"Early," he murmurs to himself, thinking of the woman's instruction to arrive at the office at the opening time. But Rune knows that simply showing up early isn't enough. He needs to seize control of the narrative before it slips further away from him. The encounter with the woman had left him with more questions than answers, fueling a determination to confront the situation head-on.

THE BARRACKS ROOM FEELS FAMILIAR AND ALIEN AT THE SAME TIME. The military gear mocks him with its silent presence. Yet, it also reminds him of the path he had chosen, of the battles he had fought within the very system he served.

Standing in the middle of his room, Rune allows himself a moment of vulnerability, the weight of the day pressing down on him. His frustration simmers just below the surface. He knows he can't let this go. He can't just wait until morning.

Rune's eyes drift toward his new command center in the corner of the room. The holographic interface, now dark and dormant, seems to call him.

He knows he shouldn't be thinking about it. But the military had failed him too many times, and if he didn't find answers now, he might never get them.

Sometimes, breaking the rules is the only way to make sense of how something works. That bastard instructor said as much... but only after he turned the voltage up to prove it. And Lowe had spoken up—stood his ground, even then.

"One way or another. I have to figure this out," Rune mutters, heading to his setup.

Without a second thought, he shrugs off his military blouse, the fabric slipping to the floor with a muted rustle.

Underneath, his arms are bare except for the ink on both arms—two sleeves of a tangled, intricate web. The lines mimic the circuitry of a complex cyber network, precise and almost mechanical at first glance. But the longer you look, the more it becomes clear that the design is something deeper—a visual expression of how he sees the world. Everything connected, every node and line representing the unseen threads that bind people, events, and choices together.

He flexes his fingers, watching as the ink seems to shift with the movement. There's something grounding about it—this map of his inner thoughts laid bare for anyone who dares to look close enough. The tattoos are more than just art; they're a reflection of his belief that there's always a pattern, always a connection waiting to be unraveled, no matter how tangled or hidden it might be.

He taps the console, and the holographic display flickers to life, casting its familiar blue glow across the room. His fingers move with purpose as he pulls up the network access points.

Rune thinks about the woman from earlier—the way she spoke, her dismissive attitude, and the air of mystery around her that didn't settle with him.

If he can access her terminal now, he might find the answers he needs before someone lets him down again. No one has been able to fix what excluded him from the last two missions, and now it looks like it's happening a third time.

He hesitates, aware of the risks, but this is about more than curiosity. "Let's get to the bottom of this," Rune repeats what Lowe said earlier to himself.

His fingers glide over the holographic interface, his determination overriding the risks as he initiates his ghostline, bypassing the standard security measures carefully.

He feels the thrill of navigating forbidden territory. As the connection stabilizes, Rune knows he's crossing a line—but it's a line that feels necessary.

He's not breaking in. Not yet.

Rune isn't hacking this time—he's doing his job. Cybersecurity means knowing the network, tracking access points, understanding who's where and why. This query is standard protocol. He's using his own credentials, the same ones that have let him monitor network traffic for years.

His fingers move instinctively, muscle memory guiding the command as he keys it in:

netstat -node:barracks -return:device_id,user,session_status

The system doesn't resist—it can't. He belongs here.

The response populates almost instantly, a scrolling list of active devices, users, and their live session statuses. Rune scans the data, his eyes honing in on the most recent admin interaction with his file.

There. Her terminal.

NOVSEC-TERM-4821A

She had access, and that means her connection is still out there, still active, still moving through the network.

He exhales, steadying himself. No alarms. No red flags. Just information.

For now.

signal_hijack -node:barracks -target:NOVSEC-TERM-4821A -mode:passive_link

The secure link connects to the Novos Security Directorate's internal network, heavily encrypted and monitored by intrusion detection systems designed to flag any unauthorized access attempts.

So far, he looks authorized.

As the interface reveals the network's structure, Rune sees that the system is segmented by firewalls, separating different levels of data based on classification. His access is limited to the lower security segment, where his own military records are stored.

query_access -user:76SDGGCS01 -scope:admin_trail -return:auth_log

Rune's records load up, but frustration builds when he finds nothing unusual. It's all routine—except for a recent entry in the access log showing that his record was reviewed earlier today.

The inside of Rune's room is illuminated by the light coming from the faint blue glow of his setup. Outside, the compound is quiet, the stillness of the night unbroken. Across the compound, in the admin office, Private Banx shifts in his chair, reading the book as the late hour makes his eyelids heavy.

The soft hum of electronics is a constant presence, a lullaby of sorts, but tonight something feels off. Banx's senses prick at the faintest noise—a soft thrum coming from the woman's office. It's nothing more than a whisper of sound, but in the silence of the night, it's enough to stir him from his drowsiness.

Banx frowns, deactivating the projection and checking the security panel logs. No one else should be in the building. Pushing himself out of the chair, he decides to investigate, grabbing the master access card on his way, but then realizing nature was calling.

Unaware of Banx's growing suspicion, Rune contemplates how to dig deeper into the system's high-security segments—where he believes the real answers lie. But he can't risk pushing any further now; the intrusion detection systems are too sophisticated. If he can't retrieve the information he needs right now, he'll make sure to leave a way in for later. But how?

After a moment of thought, Rune begins embedding a backdoor into the system, coding it carefully to remain undetected. It will let him bypass security protocols the next time the woman logs in, granting him deeper access without triggering alarms.

implant_silent -node:barracks -route:

Meanwhile, Banx exits the restroom and heads toward the woman's office. He pauses outside the door, listening closely.

Rune's pulse quickens as he notices a slight delay in the system's response. He's almost finished embedding the backdoor, but something feels off—like he's being watched.

subprocess -mask:heartbeat -trigger:delayed

Banx, still outside the office, hears a faint hum—a low, steady rhythm like a heartbeat. He cracks the door open and peers inside. The room is lit with a cool, sterile glow, but it's empty.

Stepping inside, the hum grows louder. Everything appears in order, but the terminal's light is still active.

The backdoor is set, but if her connection shows irregularities, the whole operation could unravel before he even gets a chance to use it.

With careful precision, he initiates the reset.

reset_state -target:NOVSEC-TERM-4821A -restore:session_snapshot -disconnect:stealth

Banx approaches cautiously, only to watch the screen go dark just as Rune disconnects from the network.

That hum... probably just power cycling. Right? Banx wonders as quietly exits, closing the door behind him.

Back at his desk, he reactivates the projection on his wristwatch and resumes his reading. Yet his mind remains on what he just experienced, a small itch in his thoughts pushing him toward investigation. But for now, he returns to the words on the wall, letting the fictional world draw him in again.

Elsewhere, in a room filled with softly humming servers, two figures stare at their holographic displays, brows furrowed as lines of code scroll rapidly. The steady thrum of the systems blends with the faint, ever-present vibration beneath their feet.

Something isn't adding up.

The suspicious activity disappears as quickly as it appeared, leaving no trace—just a subtle disturbance in the system's integrity. No clear source, no visible destination—only a shadow moving through the data.

They exchange uneasy glances, aware this is more than a minor glitch.

One of them leans back, chair rolling slightly as if caught in a smooth motion. Eyes narrow, suspicion threading with irritation.

"What the fuck was that?"

Back in his quarters, Rune leans back in his chair and exhales slowly. The holographic display fades, plunging the room into darkness. He managed to stay under the radar, but tension lingers in his chest. That backdoor is now his only chance to get the answers he needs. Tomorrow, when the woman uses her system, he'll be ready to dig deeper.

As he lies down in bed, thoughts of what he might uncover keep him awake. Unbeknownst to him, his actions have already drawn the attention of watchful eyes—eyes he never meant to provoke.

But the breach is set. The code sleeps beneath the surface.

Patient. Silent. Listening.

Waiting for the moment Rune returns through his back door.