The door hissed open before me, an invitation to step forward into a sterile white corridor. Behind me lay the smoking ruin of what had once been a combat simulator, now reduced to twisted metal and scorched concrete. I sucked in a deep breath, tasting the metallic tang of heated alloys and the acrid bite of fried circuitry. My little temper tantrum had certainly left an impression.
The corridor stretched ahead, blindingly bright and utterly silent. No congratulations, no fanfare, no guidance. Just a clean, antiseptic path forward.
'How very on-brand for this place,' I thought, rolling my shoulders to loosen the tension. 'All style, zero substance.'
