The hall emptied in waves—trainees shuffling toward exits, bodies moving while minds lagged somewhere back on that mud-soaked field.
I drifted with them. Disconnected.
Going through motions I'd rehearsed a thousand times: walk, turn, and follow the corridor's familiar path toward the cafeteria.
Around me, voices rose and fell in fragmented conversations.
Some trainees chattered frantically, filling silence with noise—recounting their obstacle runs in breathless detail, as though retelling made survival more real.
Others avoided eye contact entirely. They stared at floors, walls, or nothing, retreating inward to a place where cameras couldn't follow.
Except they could.
Camera drones hovered at shoulder height, tracking our "recovery." Red recording lights blinked steadily.
The cafeteria doors opened onto Halloween chaos that felt obscene now.
Black and orange streamers still twisted from ceiling fixtures. Plastic cobwebs draped tables.
