“Unit Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo Yankee Oscar Uniform! Do today’s training regime, then continue digging through that annoying mountain in the back! Action! I want a tunnel on that side of that mountain, and I want it wide enough for my Jeep to drive through it, today. Take cleaning supplies with you, I want the ground spotless! I am so sick of driving around the mountain and knocking tree after tree down!”

The Unit Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo Yankee Oscar Uniform, or short F**KYOU, grumbled dissatisfied. “Why do we have to do this? This is your Jeep.”

“Because I am your Officer. Go Go Go! Rookie Ridocula Demandur The Eight, stay behind.”

Ridocula Demandur The Eight stood attention before Officer Power.

“Sir yes Sir!”

“You are dismissed for today.”

The others of the Unit Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo Yankee Oscar Uniform booed. One man more courageous than the others directly confronted the Officer. “Why can he take a day off while we have to eat dirt? Especially him! Didn’t he torch our supplies with an incendiary grenade?”

Rookie Ridocula Demandur The Eight begrudgingly nodded. It made no sense to give him a day off after he caused all that damage.

With a simple glare, Officer Power sent the man’s pants to Mississippi. He then sighed. “This is because Rookie Ridocula Demandur The Eight is going on a punishment mission. And everyone deserves a day break to contact his loved ones before they are sent to Winston Elementary. Besides, you have the wooden spades, you don’t have to eat the dirt this time.”

The more courageous man gulped and regretted asking for the dead. “Thank you, Sir. We will be on our way.”

He then walked up to Rookie Ridocula Demandur The Eight and clapped on his back. “Rest in Peace, Comrade Ridocula Demandur The Eight. We will remember your glorious sacrifice for the Unit.”

Rookie Ridocula Demandur The Eight did not respond; His face had turned into a ghastly pale, one that could frighten even Afghanistan-veterans.

Winston Elementary.

Every Easter, the Military holds a festival at every school in the country to promote themselves, a rule brought forward under the eyes of the President of the United States, the Ex-High Admiral and the National Rifle Association.

Out of all schools, Winston Elementary was notorious even among different states. Their students were the most bright, smart and most dangerous children in all America. The teachers need to be trained in how to use Defibrillators for CPR, anger management, cracking their own passwords after hacking attempts and more, and are proficient in everything needed for survival before they even enter into the school. Most importantly, they need to learn how to deal with kids. This is more than he, a battle-hardened veteran, is trained in.

To make things worse, most soldiers who went there returned home with several cases of slashes, burns, corrosions - sometimes entire body pieces would be missing, but they all couldn’t remember how that happened.

To say he was worried is not a good comparison. To say he was extremely worried is just putting it mildly. Rookie Ridocula Demandur The Eight doesn’t know how fast he will die on that day. He just knew that his career was over.

***

5 AM. Rookie Ridocula Demandur The Eight was up and ready. His clothing, a jacket with 10 different layers, a kevlar helmet, a kevlar vest, bullet-proof goggles - in short, everything that could serve as protection against children without obnoxiously standing out, reflected the sunlight into Commander Power’s eyes.

Commander Power gave him a piercing stare, one filled with courage, determination and certainty for the upcoming task, then shielded himself behind one paper stack littered on the desk.

“Do we need to do this even when I’m sent off to a suicide mission?”

“We need to do this, exactly because you are being sent on a high-risk mission.”

Signing formulars.

They both sighed.

Commander Power straightened his jacket. “I’ll drive you to the School. Think of it as a wake.”

“Yes Sir Yes! Thank you!”

They both stared at each other and sighed again.

“Okay, first you need to sign formular 85B-AB213477 to declare that you are not a terrorist.”

***

10AM. The bureaucratic stuff took 4 hours and almost took out Ridocula Demandur The Eight’s anxiousness. That was, until Rookie Ridocula Demandur The Eight had been driven to school.

The headmaster and vice-headmaster who introduced themselves as Monica and Sans gave him a room to rest into before the students arrived. Already he paced around, in his hand, he held a mission overview from the Officer Power, along with a written statement that his life insurance (an additional bonus on his paycheck) will be paid if he dies during the Easter event.

He glanced at the mission statement again and yelled,

“I don’t understand! The military is always looking for people, so why would the Officer say that I should discourage the students from joining the military? I know some very fine technicians who could use another driver on the field! Unless… Someone higher up deemed these kids from Winston Elementary as too dangerous to join the military. How dangerous are the elementary students to even make the higher ups act? Oh no…”

*Snap*

Ridocula Demandur The Eight was jolted awake. Something in this room, no, in his body snapped like a stretched rubber band.

Hello.

“Who’s there?!”

I’m the right side of your brain. The Mute. The one who only can express himself in pictures and emotions, who’s been completely SHUT OFF from any form of communication because you decided to hog the speaking part of the brain all to yourself, and who you completely ignored for every single decision you made inside the rotten brain of yours. I told you it was not a good idea to buy the magic hat, it was so obviously a scam, but did you want to listen? Oh noo, it’s such a good idea to buy it for ‘fuuun’.

Ridocula Demandur felt like his day couldn’t get any worse. Now he not only has to handle crazy children, but also his own crazy other part he never knew he had.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry whatever I did to you, but I don’t really have time for that now. Soon I need to-”

I know. That’s why the path between us snapped in two. You overloaded it with useless fears and it couldn’t handle the pressure. That’s why I’m here. I will do my best.

“Oh, thank you.” Ridocula Demandur The Eight let his breath out. He didn’t even notice he’s been holding it in. Perhaps he can survive this day peacefully.

No problem. I like to destroy things.

‘Insensitive arsehole.’

I heard that.

The door opened, and Sans looked inside. “The kids are about to come - Hey, you don’t look too well. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Just give me another 3 minutes.”

***

Ridocula Demandur The Eight gulped. Sans had led him on a stage in the front yard, and now an infinite amount of eyes were staring at him, like he had been stared at after returning from his first failed mission. Mixed feelings were there: ridicule, awkwardness, exhaustion.

Ridocula tried to calm down. Monica had already given her speech, and he was up next.

“Welcome Ladies and Gentlemen-”

“We are kids.” A boy in the first row commented.

“and kids. My name is Ridocula Demandur The Eight and I-”

“That’s a weird name,” said a girl on the right side of the second row.

The eyes of the boy next to her lightened up. “Maybe his ancestors hated him because he can’t do shit in life and lives off the tax. And now they sent him here so he’s reminded of the wrong things he did at school”

You know, they are right. You ARE a loser. You have been for what? 10 years in the military, and still haven’t even been considered for promotion ONCE.

“Shut up!” Ridocula Demandur The Eight yelled.

“You are the one who started talking!”

Ridocula Demandur The Eight did something no adult shouldn’t do in front of children. He facepalmed himself.

The children's faces brightened up like bombs striking Iraq. They were determined to make him facepalm again, and - if possible - do other funny gestures, no matter what Sans or anyone else says.

Ridocula Demandur coughed and pulled on his kevlar vest. It grew rather hot and stuffy in here. “Today is Easter, and as a recent traditional event demands it-”

“How can something be recent and traditional?”

His cough got stronger. “Life is full of contradictions, deal with it. As a recent tradition goes, you will hunt for eggs. Out on those grassy fields, you can find eggs in all sizes everywhere. Any egg, no matter how big or small, is yours, as long as you get one.”

“Can we also find chocolate eggs?”

Will there be cookies?

“Maybe, I didn’t choose the eggs. Bring them back whole before you eat them. For each egg, we will give points, which you can trade for No-Homework cards. Smaller eggs yield more points. Any questions?”

A girl in the back asked, “Can we use our abilities?”

“What-”

“No.” Sans interrupted. “Other questions?”

The students remained silent.

Ridocula smiled. He was about to send the worst threat since Russia away.

“Ready?”

Their eyes widened and some of them fidgeted on their chairs. Ridocula Demandur The Eight grinned from one side to the other. He was back in control.

He quickly yelled, “Set, GO!”

The students left their seat with the same speed veteran soldiers run from a losing battle. Chairs were thrown over in haste, and they climbed over each other to reach the fields faster. The previous green field was now sprayed in red, and maybe the occasional pinkish finger sticked out of the grass.

Only one thin girl remained on her seat. Her face was hidden by her hair, yet she remained calm and composed.

Ridocula Demandur The Eight considered going back into the building. Instead, he talked to the girl.

“What’s your name?” Ridocula Demandur The Eight asked her.

She gave a crisp reply. “Elise.”

“Why don’t you join the others, Elise?”

“I’m lactose intolerant, don’t eat eggs, and I already have done all the homework needed for the next 4 years.”

Ridocula Demandur The Eight stared at her. “How can you have all the homework for the next 4 years?”

“I can see in the future. You will die a dogs death.”

“Eek!”

Ridocula Demandur The Eight decided to wait until the children were done hunting for eggs.

***

1PM. Ridocula Demandur The Eight considered not eating with the children for the sake of his ears, but he was hungry, and there was only one spacious mensa for students and teachers alike.

The teachers (and one soldier) were the first to arrive in the cafeteria. The children ate too many eggs and threw the entire content of their stomach all over the place, so Monica sent the children to the toilets to wash themselves.

Ridocula Demandur The Eight didn’t participate in the hunt, just like Monica and Sans - and the small girl Elise who remained behind.

“So, where do we sit?” I asked them.

Why did you start talking to the teachers? Can’t you see their exhausted expressions after telling the kids what to do and what not to do? They want to be left alone, you psychopathic fuck. And the girl doesn’t like you, so take a step back before I call your Officer to obliterate you.

‘Shut up, I’m trying to be polite.’

Monica, headmaster, stepped next to me.

“Take a look at the banner up there.” She said, and pointed at a suspended banner above the dining tables. It read, ‘Why do we celebrate Easter?’

“Every day, we choose a different question to answer. Sometimes it’s about music, sometimes it’s about maths, sometimes it’s about science, you get the idea. Depending on your answer, you pick a table and sit down with others who share your answer. Since today’s Easter Sunday, I thought asking a question about the holiday would be nice.”

I raised an eyebrow “You picked the question?”

She smiled. “Yes, it was my turn today. So, do you know why we celebrate Easter?”

“Sorry, what?”

“Why do we celebrate Easter?”

“Err…”

To stop kids from crying.

“I remember it being a religious event, but I don’t know why.”

We walked over to the tables. They were so tiny and small, Ridocula Demandur The Eight thought they’d make good chairs for him.

The little girl took one table and proudly said, “Elise’s table,” before she turned to Ridocula Demandur The Eight and pulled an eyelid at Sans.

Sans gave a wry smile. “Elise took the my table again. I need to step up my game.”

Ridocula Demandur The Eight turned to Sans and asked, “Marked table? Is it something like a game between you two?”

“Yep. I used to eat at a very beautiful table before, mahagoni, handmade shipped directly from my ex to me. One day, Elise came up to me and said she wanted to train her abilities. I disagreed, and ever since then she used her ability to take my table.”

Ridocula Demandur The Eight raised his eyebrow. “Wait, so she really can look into the future?”

Sans threw his trademark gaze at him, a glance everybody agreed on was just plain scary. His eyebrows were slightly raised, aside from that, his face was like a surreal ice sculpture - Frozen, Hard and Damp. His tone also got notably colder, a dark undertone hidden beneath.

“You weren’t briefed? Don’t you know about her ability?”

Ridocula Demandur The Eight was stupefied. Sans face turned into one of bloodthirst, the same way the vultures stared at him in the desert. No, even vultures would stay clear of this man.

“O-Of course I knew about her ability! Ha ha! Who doesn’t?”

Sans squinted his eyes. “Who told you what her ability is?”

“I told him. Nobody is going to believe him anyway.” Elise said from behind me. Sans redirected his gaze to Elise, and Ridocula Demandur The Eight felt like he got squeezed in between those two.

Sans said, “We will still have to delete his memory.”

Ridocula protested.

Ridocula Demandur The Eight felt like a child. The two of them were making so many decisions over his head, all while he couldn’t follow the conversation.

“Do you really need to delete my memories? I promise I won’t say anything - Wait, why would you need to delete all of them, and not only those for today?”

She can’t affect me, so there’s no reason for you to fight for your memories. It’s not like you need to remember anything super important. Nobody will notice that your memories are gone, even if you were to talk with somebody you know.

‘I am proud of my social life, thank you! …But how’d you know that he can’t destroy you?’

Sans continued, “Your memories are a threat to our current status quo. If the average civilians were to discover that there are people who can predict the future, then a battle for us Winstoners will happen. We will be on the same levels as trophies - unmoving objects at the will of others, just because you maybe decided that it was okay to just tell your friend about this. We will delete all your memories.”

Tell him you don’t have friends.

Elise snorted. “As if anyone would believe him, he’s a shut-in.”

Sans gazed at me again, and I backed away.

“No. I can’t risk this.”

Elise’s eye were at face levels. “I know that you do this because you care about us, but I think you always overreact. We don’t always need to worry a lot, do a lot. There’s more to life than caring.”

Sans went quiet.

Those were actually deep thoughts. Creepy, but deep. Stay clear of her.

‘Actually I agree with you on that one.

Monica stepped between the two. “Stop arguing at lunch. Or the meal will be too bitter to swallow.”

What a weird phrase.

‘I bet that was a reference to something.’

They sat together despite their different answers to the question floating above and ate in silence. Ridocula Demandur The Eight didn't pry any further in regards to their apparent special abilities, nor did any of them bring it up again.

***

3PM. Ridocula Demandur The Eight went outside for the third and final part on today's plan - group games. The teachers were elsewhere, enjoying their coffee break this valiant soldier gave to them.

Commander Power gave him a couple of Airsoft Rifles so ‘These rutty brats learn what having a gun means,’ although Ridocula Demandur The Eight doubted a fake gun could teach you the same stuff you do at military. Unless somebody asks him what a gun feels like, he's not going to unpack them.

He helped a few other children hide in a game of tag, much to the annoyance of his inner voice.

Stop ruining their fun! Haaah, I think I don't have enough impact on you.

‘Well, what is your purpose inside my head anyway?’

Do you have a purpose? Will someone find a purpose in life? Can life have purpose?

‘That wasn't my question.’

Your half thinks that was a good answer, I can tell, from the smell.

The children were done playing tag and were now busy treating the wounds of their friends.

Strange. Have your tag games been this brutal? That kid over there is missing an arm. And Elise is missing a foot, even though she tried not to participate.

‘Oh, they have incredible abilities. Nothing can surprise me anymore.’

“Oy, we need Ranja! One of the girls died again!”

“What? Do we really need her? I don’t want to get punished again…”

*Snap*

Oh no…

‘What happened?’

Howdy, I'm Tundra, the imaginative part of your brain. Well, what’s left of it. See, the right side of your brain isn't actually the right side anymore. Some of his screws got loose and he split into two, but in the end we are just another part of your brain. How do you do?

Yuck! Get him away from me! That guy destroyed my garden!

‘Stay still guys. One of them might read my mind and wipe my memory out!’

Funny how you turned into a Conspirationist in a matter of minutes

As if anyone would care about you

Hey, timing.

Perfect!

If smiles could be heard, then they would have the smuggest smile Ridocula Demandur The Eight had ever heard.

The crowd got louder. Students stood still, as if pulled upwards like tall trees in the thick jungle. Ridocula Demandur The Eight felt safe among them, so absurd it may seem. Even though there were people with special abilities, they won’t possibly find him in this thick crowd.

Suddenly the students parted ways, and Ridocula felt naked, open. The thick stench gave off a sense of danger, a danger so unlike anything Ridocula ever faced.

Then she appeared. A giant. Like a bagger shoving every tree out of the way, she marched forward. In her hand, she held a red notebook, every scrawl inside was written in blood - whether it be her own or someone else’s, nobody can tell for sure.

“Bring the corpse to me.” She grunted.

A cohort of students brought the ragged corpse of a boy to her. He was maybe 10 years old - so were most of the students. His arms were missing, and blood dripped from his white T-Shirt, forming a crusted layer of pool beneath him. He was laid down in the quickest manner possible, and the students scurried away, as if to escape the gaze of her.

She grunted once more, then padded her belly.

“You again? You already died 2 days ago. Tell him to take care, next time it’ll cost him dearly.”

The students around her nodded furiously.

She then stared at him a minute long. Ridocula felt something wrap around him, a certain aura, a sinister bond. He felt the soft, hard stones running against him. Sand. It closed around his legs, it went around his chest and it coiled around his neck. Like a mummy he was caged and the sand went thicker and thicker inside his body. His protective clothings were restricting his movements and Ridocula had to cough, cough like the time-

Emily shouted. It was the first time Ridocula heard her shout. She was always so calm, so composed… Even when they threatened to wipe his memories, she just stayed calm and argued against it. Ridocula’s relationship to her was ambivalent, but that didn’t change the matter. She was shouting, but he couldn’t understand her - everything grew in such a hazy. The sand tightened, but he still tried to concentrate...

“Ranja!... Stop… there’s… an outsider… you… kill…”

‘Kill?’

The giant buckled. “Get… Away...!”

Emily walked by his side. Or was she? He couldn’t make out the face of the person before him...

A great pull dragged at Ridocula, but the strings around him tightened up.

“Ability… already hit...”

“Take… out!”

“Ranja..Your life... Nobody... resurrect... ”

“OUT!”

Ridocula started up, and the coils tightened around him. His neck was bleeding, and he was being scorched, scratched, scratched by the scarlet sand. Caged in a mask of sand that seemed to wrap endlessly around him. He was taken back to when Johnny died. It was so similar to this. He didn’t know where the surface was, and everything around him grew dark, and cold… so cold…

Rookie Ridocula Demandur The Eight passed out while on duty.

***

The sound of mumbling, miles away. A jeep. Driving through the dunes. Sand keeps blowing, entering whatever nook and cranny it finds. All the sweeping won’t ever keep the sand away, scorching, scratching, scarlet-red sand. The sound of rustling, then something grabbing his arm. Sting.

Everything went back into color. Johnny was before him, smiling, famish evident on his body. His arms were missing, and his glance was glossy, a white fade as if he was elsewhere, just not here.

He mumbled, “The base is 20 miles away.”

Ridocula blinked.

“The base is 20 miles away.”

Ridocula started up - he was in Afghanistan, on a mission. What was Johnny doing?

“The base is 20 miles away.”

“Hey, Johnny, can you hear me?” Ridocula asked, disbelieving. How did Johnny get this thin?

“The base is 20 miles away.”

Ridocula’s eyes widened. He didn’t want to lose another friend. “Johnny? Are you okay? Please tell me you are okay. Please. Please! I promise I won’t make fun of your height anymore, just tell me, please, are you here? Johnny?”

“The base is 20 miles away.”

“Johnny, please respond to me.”

Johnny, still with the same glassy eyes, said, “Take care of the children,” before his body tilted and he fell off the Jeep - Scarlet-red sand, scorching the earth, scratching the metal husk, sand everywhere. The body was suffocating, sinking, slick sand kept running all over his body, and it was hard to tell when he died.

Unfaced, the jeep drove on, as if there had never been a Johnny.

***

The sound of stammering, far away. Ridocula concentrated. Not again. Not again.

“...didn’t want to hurt you, Sorry! I didn’t look around before I revived Angon, I should have done that, it was Easter after all and someone without abilities is always going to visit us so we know what you are like - the same - and I completely forgot about it and, sorry, I can’t, maybe, if we didn’t have those powers, that would never have happened and, oh my god, I am so sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

Headache. But Ridocula won’t give up. He pried his sandy eyes open. A girl. The giant. Giant? What was she doing here?

“...have that power, then maybe we’d be way less reckless...”

He forced his mouth open. “It’s no problem.” He said. Dry. “You don’t need to apologize for your abilities.”

Pause. Breath. “But don’t mean,”

He gulped.

“Take care of the way you use your power.”

She sniffed.

“Thanks, I am so sorry, this shouldn’t have happened, I-”

“At the same time however,” I sighed, “with power comes responsibility. That’s why not everyone has a gun, because some people are not responsible enough. They act careless, they don’t know how devastating a power can be in the wrong hands...”

Ranja stopped crying.

“But how do you find out if someone is responsible enough?”

“In the military, the government officials do background checks on the person to find out if they have been irresponsible, careless before, or whether they are in a good mental condition when, and also do regular checks while they have guns. A gun can only hurt people after all, you don’t want to give one to everyone.”

Ranja slightly nodded. The kids around her nodded as well - seemly content with my answer.

“So… how could I have been more responsible? I mean, I didn’t see you, but I could have looked, I could have-”

“I think you acted responsible.” I gave her my most reassuring smile. “The way the kids look at you - you are using your ability for them, and make it clear that they can’t always rely on you. I find that admirable. And sometimes things are just out of our reach.”

She stared down. A quiet mumble. “Thanks.”

“By the way,“ I added, “I don’t mean to pry, but… you act way different from what I thought you’d be. When they called for you, to me, it seemed like a tank driving through the dunes, so oppressive, so…strong, daring. I… It feels weird when you apologize to me, haha”

I gave off an awkward laugh.

We stay quiet for a while and then this happens? You disappoint me, dunce of the mood.

I actually have to side with him on that one. I’d recommend bashing your head against the wall so you can forget all about it.

‘Ooooh, Shut up. At least she’s laughing.’

***

The parting speech went off without a hitch. The kids were overjoyed (or the same as before) and cheerly parted from Ridocula Demandur The Eight. Ridocula felt a kind of connection between him and them.

A connection he wasn’t willing to part from.

Monica stepped to his side.

“Ridocula, if I can call you so… Sans… decided that your memories won’t need to be altered. At all. I’ve never seen Sans so moved. What happened?”

Ridocula smiled. Everything still felt so surreal, as if all just happened in a dream. This was the best time, he felt. “I think it’s because one of the students nearly killed me. Do you know where his office is?”

“Enter the building, and then go right.”

“Thanks.”

Ridocula left without saying another word. He wasn’t going to make it harder for himself than it already was.

He turned right and knocked on the door.

“Who’s there?”

“You know.”

“What?”

“You know who.”

Deep laughter ran out, and Sans opened the door. But once he saw Ridocula’s face, his own face turned into stone and steel.

“Sans.”

Ridocula went inside. The room was kept in the dark, no shine of the sun entered Sans’ office. Ridocula’s eyes went over the dark place before they rested on Sans, who walked against his own desk. His office came as a shock to him as well.

“Sorry, I didn’t think my Office would turn into Dracula’s coffin again.”

“What, does Dracula actu- nevermind. Can I trust you to take care of the children? Here, while they are at school?”

His yellow eyes stared into Ridocula’s. Did they turn blue for a second?

“Of course,” he voiced, “Why else would I be vice-headmaster?”

Ridocula raised his voice. “Take my memories. So I can protect all the other kids in this country as well.”

“What?”

“These kids here are not the only one. I think I can offer more protection, by continue being a soldier, a shield to the nation.”

That’s pretty militaristic.

‘What does militaristic mean?’

He means you are for having military. Well, you fell asleep in history lesson, so I’m pretty sure he used militaristic wrong.

Sans stared at me. “I… Well, if you insist. That will take a moment, hold on.”

He stepped closer to him and put a hand on his head.

“This won’t take long.”

***

6PM. He was waiting outside of school. Numerous elementary graders walked by him, all talking in excited hushed voices. Some greeted him, others simply ran by him. Ridocula Demandur The Eight smiled slightly. His memories had been altered - but only so far to erase the existence of ‘power users’. He still remembered he had given them a very important lesson. He explained them the reason why he joined the military, and reminded himself of his own.

Commander Power’s Jeep appeared on the horizon and neared the school. He had called him some time ago - but his memory just wouldn’t tell him when.

‘Whatever’ he figured.

So, what will you do now?

‘Huh? Who are you?’

Ooooh, he doesn’t know. Hey, stay quiet, don’t let him find you.

‘Stay quiet? Who? What? Hey, my own brain, please don’t ignore me.’

The Jeep drove up.

Ridocula Demandur The Eight saluted to the Commander, who then shouted, “Inside!”

Ridocula Demandur The Eight quickly went inside the Jeep, and Commander Power instantly accelerated again. Ridocula Demandur The Eight turned back and winked to the children. They winked back.

“Report!”

“The mission has been a success, Commander Power! All troops have safely returned.”

“Any problems?”

He reported the problems (the ones he remembered) he faced, before concluding, “I thought children were a lot scarier than that. But they aren’t, and instead demonstrate a high capacity of responsibility, awareness and other virtuous traits. They’d make good soldiers - if they weren’t from Winston Elementary.”

“Good. Rookie Ridocula Demandur The Eight, you look exhausted.”

“It’s very tiring.”

“I think you have a good hand with children.” Commander Power smiled. “I’m proud of you. After all, we fight for the safety of our children.”

They drove inside a wide clean tunnel and Ridocula Demandur marveled at the spotless ground. Even the walls of the tunnel were spotless! Finally they arrived in front of the barracks.

“Dismissed!” Was all Commander Power said before he walked to his office.

Rookie Ridocula Demandur The Eight gave a salute and marched to the barracks. The Unit Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo Yankee Oscar Uniform stood outside and tried to wash the dirt off their clothes. The most courageous man out of this Unit stepped out to greet him, his clothing already tidy.

“Man, didn’t expect to see you again.”

“Me too. I’m so happy to see you. Did you manage to dig the tunnel?”

“You should know the answer. After all, you drove through it together with Commander Power without dying.”

“Wait, that was your tunnel? It was like 4 miles long!”

“Haha, come inside, we’ll show you a couple of tricks a construction worker showed us.”

They went inside under the silent gaze from Commander Power as he watched them from his window with a smile.

‘What a great team spirit,’ he thought.

He turned his attention to the 120 neatly stapled paperstacks on his desk. The title read “Early Military Soldier Application”.

“Huh? Who would apply at this time?”

As Commander Power glanced through the paper, he noted that the 120 applicants were all from Winston Elementary.

“Wait, how can this be? Didn’t he say he successfully discouraged the students from joining the military? So why are their applications on my desk? What kind of havoc will they create here? How am I going to explain it to my superior? Oh no…”

*Snap*

Hello.