Chapter 56: The Art of the Counter-Strike

The recruits thought the five-mile run was the end of it. They thought they had paid their "tax" in sweat and could go back to the comfort of their barracks. They didn't realize that when you prank a Commander who was trained by the "Ice King" and hardened in the Pech, the retaliation isn't a moment—it’s an environment.

I walked into the mess hall for lunch, the white patches on my neck catching the overhead lights. The room went quiet, a wave of stiffening spines following me to the head of the line. Charles was already there, sitting with SFC Viper (who was currently wearing a "Consultant" badge like a license to kill).

"They’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, Coraline," Charles murmured as I sat down.

"Let them wait," I said, taking a sip of water. "Anticipation is a much better teacher than a reprimand."

Across the hall, I saw Corporal Vance and his group. They were whispering, looking at their trays. Suddenly, Master Sergeant Stitch walked over to their table. He didn't yell. He didn't even scold. He simply placed a single, small white pebble in the center of Vance’s table.

The color drained from Vance’s face. He knew the story of the river stone. He knew that when the "Ghost" left a stone, it meant she was watching.