Seth reveled in the static hum of the war room. His war room. No politics. No people pleasing. No more recruit applications to go over. All that was left to do was to lock-in Daamon as a member of his squad and schedule the next four weeks of training.

The past week had been exceptionally stressful. It was his fault. Since the events of his last game, the reality of his situation struck home. Researching training regimes and field tactics were no longer the distraction they had once been. Having realized that the Council's Academy's answer to the demon war was to keep throwing soldiers at it until the problem resolved itself left Seth emotionally crippled and a long-term residence of his bed.

He was sure that he wasn't the only member of his squad who felt the same way. He couldn't help but resent members like Regina, who could opt for a marriage contract and serve her civil duties by pushing out babies for the next six to twelve years. On second thought...

He nudged the corner of the display table, coaxing his padded leather chair into a soft spin. Erik, he could safely resent. His father paid for all four of his son's civil duties, effectively rendering their service on the war front obsolete. Buying out their place on the roster was one of the few ways the Council could afford to maintain the war effort. The people who returned from the killing fields would use their terror to fuel the workforce. They would churn out bullets, shields, mech armor, and whatever else that could be produced in high quantities at the lowest price. Meanwhile, people like Erik, who would inherit the future, would jack up the cost of resources to bolster their profit margins to maintain an increasingly lavish lifestyle. On the other hand, the fee for the release of their civil duties was getting harder to afford even for the wealthy. He could blame the Council for a lot of things, but he admired their efforts in trying to keep the system fair. They should be revising the conscription

laws roughly around the same time he left for the killing fields next year. Not that it mattered. The law changes got stricter every year as exclusion practices continued to abuse the system.

Wallace was in the same situation as Seth. 'Had been' Seth corrected. Wallace was dead and a permanent resident of topics to not discuss. The town of Hallow Haven was also added to the list. It bothered him that everyone seemed to be okay with Wallace not turning up for school. It was business as usual for the senior class, all without sparring a thought to wonder why a star player of the winning squad would give up everything. He should have paid attention, maybe Wallace knew what was coming for his hometown. Then again, deep down, they all knew that sooner or later the demon hoards will come knocking.

It bothered him that news feeds didn't so much as mention the loss of yet another top-side city. They gave off the impression that the only place that mattered was the Capitol. While the people top-side worried about their safety, they pray for the chance to gain residency within the last refuge for humanity. It was like the people of the Capitol didn't know that important resources such as food, wood, and steel came from the surface world. Even their oxygen was pushed through a specialized filtration system and recycled a few hundred times over. If the killing fields grew, the people of the Capitol would starve. Maybe they figured out a way to depend less heavily on the surface world...

The door to the war room slid open, prompting Seth to stop his mindless spin by using his foot as a break against the display table's leg. Regina's dark eyes hardened at the sight of him. He wanted to smile, just to prove that everything in his world was okay; that he didn't need her. "Early as always," Regina acknowledged and took her preferred seat directly across from him. "I saw that you haven't made up your mind about our last recruit. I don't think you should worry too much about it. It's not like the squad's going to be your responsibility next year." Regina was the descendent of the ancient native tribes who span the northern territories, the names of the clans forgotten by the remnants of civilization.

Physically she was the complete opposite of Astral. Regina's skin was darker baring a permanent sun-kissed tone while Astral was porcelain pale, a child of the moon. Her lips were fuller than the younger student, more kissable. Astral's smile was accustomed to sneers and devilish trickery, where Regina's was charming and compassionate, complementing her high cheekbones and the delicate slant of her eyes. The sniper took great pride in the taming of her thick dark hair while Astral's had a life of its own.

Seth's lips pinched together, holding back a hiss. She was right, but the games had become a part of his legacy and to some extent a piece of his identity. It would be hard to let go. He watched as she set her tablet onto the docking station, accessing the newly installed interface.

Seth looked at the time. More squad members would be arriving soon to discuss who should be recruited as though the recruitment process was a democracy. To an extent it was. Though last year, he was far too open to suggestion in an attempt to appease the very vocal Erik, who bullied his opposition into recruiting his connections.

This year, Seth had one mission, and that was to train for the killing fields. If the team wasn't interested in helping him to achieve that goal, they could be replaced, starting with the dead weight he allowed onto his time last year.

He held his breath as the Military Games app loaded the applicant list for the umpteenth time that week, this time presenting with significantly fewer candidates than his previous session. It wasn't uncommon for potential recruits to withdraw their application if they couldn't get in at the beginning of the year. He filtered out all candidates who applied to join any team, opting to limit his results to candidates who applied exclusively to Squad VII. He knew Astral had applied only to his team. He expected her to withdraw her application. Since she pointed out the pressure he had put on her to join, he had been consciously putting in the effort to back off about anything squad related. She'd be fully exposed to their regime in due course, there was no sense in driving her away.

He breathed again when he saw Astral's name on the list. She hadn't changed her mind. He might be able to get a game or two out of her before she decided that the Military Games were a joke. In light of her first lesson, he had come to same conclusion. He wondered if there was something in her training that he could use while preparing for the games.

He selected her name and added her to his roster.

"HER!" Regina gaped while monitoring the roster through her tablet. Seth arched a brow. Her words tumbled from her lips in an incoherent mess. She collected herself, took a breath and tried again. "You've been bought," she concluded.

"Have you seen her scores?" Seth's tone was on the verge of dangerous.

Regina was familiar with the tone but had rarely been subjected to it. She reviewed the scores. "This can't be right, not for a first year. She had to have paid someone to hack in."

"Then lodge a complaint," Seth replied, "because those are the scores I recorded."

The color in her face drained. "These are legit?" He realized that the question had nothing to do with Daamon's scores.

"What would I do with the money?" He shrugged. His father was the only viable candidate to pay for his release from civil duties, and he would have felt that his research was a worthier cause to fund.

Her eyes softened with sympathy. "I didn't mean..."

"That's exactly what you meant," he retorted. "There's not a day that's gone by, that someone hasn't said something along those lines. Why else would someone like me take an interest in someone like her? It's obviously the money. It's obvious to everyone that I want to trick her into my bed so that her family will be forced into a union. How medieval are these people? I expected better of you." Astral was very much protected by the law, but it wouldn't stop ignorant predators, advised by a relative who heard that a friend of a friend...

He smirked. Astral was a victim of circumstance, not a victim of other people. Part of him wanted to see what remained of the shell of a human when Daamon finished gutting them of their misguided beliefs. He frowned. Erik and Daamon in the same room could be a major problem. If it came down to it, he'd have them fight it out until they could reach an understanding. Erik was no demon on the battlefield, he wouldn't know what hit him. He smirked again, drawing his focus to Regina, who fixed her watery eyes onto her tablet.

He might have time to sort out the team's schedule before the rest of the squad arrived to criticize his decision. He pulled up the scheduling interface, connecting it with table's projection system. As last year's champion, he had first rights to lock in training periods in monthly segments. The system limited his scheduling period to dinner that day, five hours after all eighteen squads were meant to finalize their members for the season. He assumed that the time cap was to prevent scheduling disruptions for competing teams, who would get locked out of training facilities due to failing to register their timeslot. A weaker opponent meant an easier victory, but it also meant weaker soldiers on the battlefield.

The program's interface began with a list of recommendations of ideal groupings of three members to form smaller units, and members who have the highest affinity for certain weapon types. It also offered a list of proposed improvements that the team could build on over the course of the season. As new scores were registered, those suggestions would change. He dismissed them as he often did. Many of the squads swore by the apps algorithm, and to an extent they were right. Training could be improved, but personality determined how well a unit could co-operate to achieve an objective.

His calendar presented in a combination of dull grays, bright oranges, and lime greens. Grey blocks were restricted times, often representing classes. Orange time slots were negotiable slots, often representing social commitments or jobs. For Seth, it meant that his team would not be able to train together, but he could focus on a particular unit's weak point. Green slots meant that all squad members were available.

Staring at the interface, he realized that if he scheduled as heavily as he had grown accustomed to, he would not be able to train with Astral, who seemed to prefer training in the morning. He'd have to rely on his members to maintain their own training regimes. What's the point of a victory if he wasn't going to live long enough to enjoy the rewards?

He cleared the gray slots from view and removed the morning slots up to his first class. He glanced at Regina whose manicured brow shot to her hairline. No sense in trying to hide it. He might be able to argue that he needed time for his term project, but he doubted that she'd believe him.

He quickly snatched up the remaining green periods, scheduling them into one of the many training fields and opting for a random selection of environments. There were six outdoor fields where he could train his squad in a team vs. team mock game. With sixteen competing squads, he was allowed one team skirmish every three days. It was probably for the best. Erik liked to play hard just to prove to everyone that he was strong. Quite a few of his major players could hold their ground but would often shy away from any conflict with the new second in command. It must be nice to send people off to the killing fields at a word.

Just to keep up appearances, Astral would need some basic training across all platforms. He wondered if she'd to cooperate with something that was very clearly a waste of her time. It wouldn't hurt to run his squad through a refresher course. He had the best of the best on his team. Regina was a crack shot sniper who held the Academy's record for distance. Hope knew her way around a gun and excelled at the gauntlet, holding an unblemished record for accuracy. Gemma was their champion mixed martial artist; one strike from him usually ended in a knock-out. Erik was faster on his feet than the sturdier Gemma; broken bones were to be expected when Erik hit the field.

"What's this shit about?" Erik shouted, slamming his tablet onto the table as he thundered into his chair. Roberts and Smith followed in the second in commands lead, taking their appointed seat on either side of him. Seth liked to refer to the trio as the wall of resistance. It didn't matter what he decided, they would always oppose him.

"Have you seen her scores?" Regina asked, "They're off the chart for a first year. We might lose a couple of training sessions just to catch her up, but that's not a big deal. With her scores as is, she's looking good for field time."

"Over my dead body she will!" Erik snorted as Astral's projection came up on the screen. To the left of her rotating image, her scores fell into place. "Pul-lease, she obviously paid someone to hack into the system."

Seth sighed. "You're welcome to test her yourself." He'd love to see that.

Gemma's head bobbed left to right as he weighed the possibilities. The dark hulking mass of a man was often the voice of reason among his peers. He might be a brute on the field, but he was no dummy. "You'd better not be thinking of getting another sniper. You know how uncomfortable that makes me. Nothing more dangerous than a girl with a gun while she's ragging." He rumbled.

Regina rolled her eyes and smiled. She had a beautiful smile. Seth wished she'd share it more often. "I could test her hand to hand combat skills," Gemma volunteered while punching at the air.

"A solid punch to the head will learn her good," Roberts laughed, slamming his fist into his palm. He was tall and gaunt, near skeletal. It was as though his body struggled to keep up with his growth and opted to pile on muscle just to keep his frame wired together. Despite his connection to Erik, Roberts wasn't useless. He was pretty good with weapon calibrations and creative with repairs in a pinch. He lacked the incentive to apply himself. Like Erik, the killing fields weren't part of his future. Roberts and Smith joined the games because of the career opportunities tied to them.

"Punch who in the head?" A small voice squeaked. The four foot tall Hope took her place next to Regina. Hope's small stature did nothing to contain her huge personality. "OO! We're getting another girl! Time to even out this sausage fest! Looks like you fellas are going to get kicked in the testosterone this year!" He pushed her goggles to the top of her hair, holding her wild hair at bay. Large white circles marked the only clean portion of her face. Her smile broadened revealing blindingly white teeth.

"The decision isn't final," Erik snapped.

"Psh! I don't care; I want a girl! You hear me, Seth!" she shouted as though he was hard of hearing. "I WANT A GIRL!"

"The decision is final. Daamon is our new recruit. Short of her quitting, which won't happen because we're all friends here, she's here to stay." Seth told them.