[b]—Morning—[/b]

The minutes ticked away faster than they normally did. There was no doubt that time was truly relative. Olivia thought the experience trite and banal. Why could time never appear slow when you needed it to? She had to convince herself that it was just a matter of her own perception, and that the minutes did not in actuality progress faster than normal. 

Olivia dreaded the internal mechanisms of her own mind. She was well aware that its unison with her external visual aspect was null, and that speaking her mind at a discordant time and place could be out of place, perhaps even dangerous. Such was the nature of her continuous predicament regarding social endeavors, which was of particular importance when she was force to conspire with characters akin to Britney Farron. Olivia dreamt of the day when she would abscond the dreary bastille of Britney’s troupe, to which she was seemingly a slave in chains. However, Olivia had a talent for utilizing people of particular talents or who had access to invaluable assets. Britney’s physical presence had not even reached comfortable speaking distance between her and Olivia before she began to yap away about mindless topics.

“Isn’t that Thael?” Britney asked, rhetorically. The girl had taken notice of his sudden outburst of joy next to the cafeteria entrance.
“…Yes, you knew tha…” Olivia replied, but was interrupted mid-sentence.
“He is so hot. I would absolutely wreck him if he didn’t swing for the same team.”
“Control yourself, Britney.”
“What? He is hot. You think he is hot as well.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
“….No.”
“Yes… Olivia, you do.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about… you dumb bitch.”
“You are so sweet when you try to be mean-cool, Olivia. That’s why I love you so much,” the materialistic blond said while scrolling through messages on her phone, not even looking at Olivia.
“Whatever…”
“Don’t you have to go?” Britney said and finally faced Olivia.
“...what?”
“They said your name in the speaker-thingy.”
Olivia was quite astounded that the girl had taken notice.
“Yeah, right…but, I’m getting a hotdog first. I don’t care if they court-martial me.”
“You should do what that guy did who waved at you,” Britney giggled.
“Who, Roy?—don’t get me started on him.”
“Why? What’s wrong with him?” 
“Nothing… nothing is wrong with him,” Olivia said without any deeper intentions, but she slipped into contemplation nonetheless.

[i]…He is careless... and… he is only motivated by elation……elation… …elation?… Roy is elation… He is an exhilarating psychological state of pride and optimism… …disguising himself as a comic relief… …but in reality, he is a manipulative psychopath… …what’s wrong with Roy? Plenty… …but… why do I still care for him?... because… Sam did… … Sam cared for Roy… …but they were nothing alike… …or were they?... …have my memory of Sam faded to the point of not remembering his true nature?... …no, Sam could never be like Roy… …just…no…[/i]

The conversation between the girls ended when Olivia finally reached the counter and the unnaturally elated attendant. It didn’t matter which flavor or type of hotdog it was, as long as she could have one stuffed down her throat within the next few seconds. Britney was kind enough to pay for the coming feast, as the campus credit card had slipped her mind when she left her room. At the same time, Jyn caused quite a ruckus by violently embracing the floor with her body. The other students took note of it, but nobody seemed to help or care—the typical apathy you would get from hung over students. Olivia knew it wasn’t serious, but she approached her life-long friend nonetheless, with Britney Farron at her tail.

“You alright there, sweetie?” Olivia said to Jyn.
Britney’s shallow and materialistic personality was channeling right through and into Olivia’s words.
“Who is this?” Britney inquired.
“This is Jyn,” Olivia replied and helped the poor girl up on her feet.
“Wait, what? .... you know this catastrophe?” Britney said and eye-balled Jyn from top to toe.
“Uhm, yeah… we’re childhood friends.”
“Whatever. I have to find Stacey—see ya later, love ya,” Britney said and left the cafeteria.
After giving the blond a vicious stare, Olivia shifted her attention to Jyn.
“Don’t mind her, she’s an idiot. Come on, let’s go.”

The reception area to the administration offices on the 4th floor of building C was already cramped by the people they knew all too well. Olivia could not help but to notice how stylish some of them were, and how homeless she appeared in comparison—she had not taken a shower and she wasn’t wearing her uniform. The second thing that Olivia noticed was Kat and her diligent munching of hotdogs. Olivia was not prone to cursing. It just sounded strange when the frogs jumped out of her mouth, but there were—of course—exceptions to this habit, and the current situation was one of those exceptions. Roy and his annoying grind were unmistakable and unavoidable. He was clearly the man who had orchestrated this generosity, however less welcoming for Olivia—her mood quickly shifted from benevolent to murderous.

“Damn it, Roy! You could’ve said that you were bringing hotdogs here. You were right there at the Surfer, why didn’t you say anything?!” Olivia almost shouted in frustration. “You’re such a douchebag sometimes, do you know that?” She continued, face to face with boy. “Tsszh…,” she muttered and turned her back on him.

[b]—WARG “Ceremony”—[/b]

A man emerged from the administration offices to greet the students and escort them inside. The entire south wall of the grand office, which they faced upon entering, was constructed out of glass—it presented a breathtaking view of Oakridge Academy, overlooking the town of Doral in the distance. In front of the windowed wall was an oblong, rectangular shaped table and behind it sat twelve men and women in expensive, full back support, office chairs made out of black leather. They did not introduce themselves, but Olivia and the rest knew that they were the respected, though dreaded Academy Council. The students were instructed to stand in a single line, facing the council and salute them. Next, a man emerged from a door on the other end of the room. It was the headmaster of Oakridge Military Academy—Cid Dysley. He was a former General of the Army with the Central Movement, who by disagreement with certain key figures was dishonorably discharged. As he began to address the students, a number of additional personnel emerged from the same room.

“My advisors tell me that you lot are some kind of team,” the general said. In his following pause, he proceeded to slowly walk back and forth in front of the students. The general trod from one end of the line to the other, closely inspecting each member. “They also tell me that when you people work together, your powers are greatly amplified,” the general stopped and leered at his science advisor: “but they cannot tell me why this is… for some reason beyond my suggested meek comprehension,” he said and continued his inspection. The science advisor’s cheeks blushed in modest embarrassment. Olivia and her friends knew the general on a personal level, but they realized that this was a formal initiation, and that the good headmaster was required to ignore private affections and assume his role as the supreme commander of the academy.

“The Special Warfare and Reconnaissance Group is not joke,” the general said and eye balled the bro-force in particular: “It is not a time for recklessness, nor is it a time for childish behavior,” he continued, still primarily addressing the friends who were prone to beating each other up more than the enemy. “We are a covert military force, and we do not disclose our operations to the public or any official institution. All the details are present in the documents that you are required to read as part of your initiation,” the general said. He ended his inspection and formally addressed the whole group: “By the forces beyond our comprehension and all those brave souls that came before us, I hereby declare each and every one of you initiated,” the general said and saluted the group, which in turn saluted the general back. A man approached the general with a red-silk embedded pillow that had WARG badges pinned to it. The badges were for ceremonial purposes only and not actually used in the field. The badge icon depicted two great wolf heads howling at each other on either side of an unsheathed sword. The general proceeded to hand out the badges.

“The techs have uploaded the WARG-application to your cell phones. This device has numerous functions: communications, requisitions, and surveillance. Through the open message board, you will be able to send and receive messages from other units in the field and the administration. The closed message board is only for your unit and the administration. The mission board will display the specifics of your current mission, as well as optional objectives—while you are not required to complete the optional objectives in a mission, they can sometimes prove invaluable to your efforts. You can requisition weapon upgrades and item supplies through the application as well, but as they are dropped by air, they are considerably more expensive than what the items would be at local shops. The administration also monitors your progress in the mission, as well as in combat, through the application and through a surveillance drone that will follow you in the field. Olivia, who will be the team leader of this unit, has an extended version of the WARG-application, which allows her to call in air-strikes, area blackouts, and other military-grade actions. However, nothing is for free in this world and these actions will cost you a truck load of credits, so use them wisely.” The General instructed.

When the general was finished with handing out the badges, he addressed the group again:

“We apologize for this somewhat informal and hasty initiation, but rest assured that it’s not without cause….,” the general said and paused for a moment, walking over to the windowed wall to gaze at the scenery in contemplation. “Norton City is under siege by the sovereignty of Nautilus. We don’t know why or how it happened, but it’s happening right now. And since we have a protection treaty with Norton City, we have to act… and we have to act immediately. This is why this ceremony was rushed; this is why we are sending you… all of you, to deal with this problem,” the General said. The Academy Council nodded in silence and agreement with the General’s words.

“You have twenty minutes to gear up and meet Field Marshall Sawyer at the main gate before you depart, he has the specifics… dismissed,” one of the shadowy Academy Council members uttered.

[b]—After Ceremony—[/b]

Once they were outside the administration offices again, Olivia wasn’t sure what or how she felt. Taking care of her friends, being their sister and mother rolled up into one was one thing, but giving them orders in the heat of battle? She wasn’t sure if she could do that. It was as if they had all been hit by a freight train at maximum speed. There was so much to be said, but there was no time for it.

“Well, you heard them….,” Olivia said with a slightly trembling voice. “Gear up… and, uhm… do whatever you have to do, call someone… make arrangements…whatever,” she continued. They knew that this wasn’t a joke. They knew that they were about to step into the real world where a myriad of things would sincerely attempt to end their lives. This was it. This was the real deal. No turning back now.