Chapter 52: The "Prank" in the Armory

The disrespect didn't come in the form of insults anymore—I was too respected, too decorated for that. Instead, it came in the form of "tradition." The new recruits, led by a cocky Corporal named Vance (no relation to the Viper), had decided that playing pranks on the Commander was a way to "test the waters."

I walked into the armory at 0900 to conduct a spot-check. As I reached for the handle of the secure cage, I felt a familiar tension in the air. The armorers were standing a little too straight, their eyes darting to the overhead rafters.

I pulled the handle. Instead of the door opening, a bucket of industrial-strength white chalk dust tipped from above, cascading down in a cloud.

I didn't flinch. I didn't jump. I stood perfectly still as the white powder settled over my black hair and the dark fabric of my uniform. When the dust cleared, I looked like a marble statue.

A few muffled snickers erupted from the back of the room.

"Something funny, Corporal?" I asked, my voice as calm as a frozen lake.

Vance stepped forward, trying to hide a grin. "Just a bit of 'initiation' for the new cycle, Ma'am. Didn't mean for the CO to get caught in the crossfire."

I wiped a streak of chalk from my eye, revealing the porcelain patch of vitiligo beneath. I looked at him until his grin faltered, then died.

"You think because I’m 'spotted' that I’d appreciate a bit more white on the canvas?" I asked. The room went ice-cold. "Thirteen minutes. That’s how long you have to have this armory scrubbed to a surgical standard. If I see a single grain of chalk when I return, you’ll be doing your next three rucks with a pack filled with lead shot. Dismissed."