Page 3 of Striker

With his mouth set into a thin line Viper strips his clothes, folding his black peacoat, sweater, and fatigues neatly at the edge of the platform, then placing his black beanie and gloves on top, before resuming position.

“Face the pillar,” Fallon says.

We all watch in complete silence as Viper presents his bare back to the Commander who wraps the thick leather straps around Viper’s wrists, then cranks the chain fed through the loop at the top of the pole until Viper’s arms are above his head. Viper widens his stance, but then goes still. Another gust of bitter wind sweeps over the platform, and a shiver moves through his shoulders, his breath puffing out, wrapping around the pole in a fine mist.

Turning back to us, Fallon walks our line, stopping in front of each one of my brothers, inspecting our uniforms. There aren’t many of us left. Twelve in total now. We lost a brother this past spring. Us newer students, like Breaker and I, only joined in with the othersoldatsthis past year. Viper the year before. Reaper and my other brothers have been in combat training for several years since they’re older, and have moved up in ranks. Reaper, Hunter, and Seeker are the oldest of our regime, and have their first mission next year.

When Fallon reaches the end of the line, he motions for Reaper to step out of formation. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Reaper’s sleek back hair, so similar to Fallon’s, as he steps up to ourotets.

“Soldat,” Fallon says, eyes still scanning over our line. “Can you tell your brothers why we are out in this cold, freezing our asses off?”

Reaper spins tightly, facing us, fists at his sides. I marvel at his grace. But then everything Reaper does is smooth, graceful like the ballerina’s Father talks about sometimes.

“We have a thief in this school,” Reaper shouts, his voice rough from cold and trying to be heard over the roar of wind. He’s usually quiet. Reserved. It always shocks me when he takes command of our training.

“Is thievery in our motto?” Fallon asks.

“Sir, no sir!” we all shout.

“Reaper, tell your brothers what we do to thieves.”

“We cut off their hands.”

Fallon watches our line, waiting for a reaction. When he gets none, he says, “But a good soldier needs both his hands, does he not?”

We don’t hesitate. “Sir, yes sir!”

Fallon eyes us. “Someone crept into the kitchen last night and stole a loaf of bread.” He scans all of us, looking for signs of guilt. Of course we give none. “When we steal from our school, we’re taking from our own pockets.” He’s silent for a heartbeat. “Did I teach mysoldiers to steal?”

“Sir, no sir.”

“Didn’t we learn that stealing is a sin? That it is a dishonor to ourselves? To our brothers? To our school and all I have taught you?”

We all shout our response, even as my stomach roils. Next to me, Breaker shifts and I resist the urge to stomp on his foot. He’ll give himself away. He’ll give us all away.

In front of us, another violent tremor racks Viper’s body as the wind gusts over the platform, his knees buckling slightly.

“Have we not learned that our actions have consequences? That if something happens to one of us, it happens to all of us? You, my sons, are a unit. Of one mind. One body. When one of you steals…” his voice trails off, but he doesn’t have to say it.

We all pay the price.

His gaze lands on Breaker, and my chest tightens.

I think we all knew, even last night as we shoved buttered bits of bread into our mouths, we were going to suffer ourotets’swrath, but I guess we’re not cruel enough to have thought this up.

Yet.

Not cruel enough yet, but Fallon is trying to cure us of that.

“Breaker,” Fallon says. “Step forward,syn.”

My jaw tightens. The urge to grip Breaker’s thin shoulder and pull him behind me is so strong, I nearly do it, but Reaper catches my eye and gives me a slight shake of his head. He doesn’t have to say the words for them to ring in my head.

No. Do not stop our otets. It’ll be worse than this if you do.

I swallow the bile in my throat and watch as the reedy boy next to me steps from formation.

As much as I want to blame Breaker for his inability to follow orders, we’re here because we all ate that fucking bread. But if he hadn’t of been so…. sohimself, Father wouldn’t have put him in solitary with only a metal bucket of water. Then Breaker wouldn’t have starved for two days as punishment. And Viper never would have snuck into the kitchen last night and stole that loaf of bread when he found Breaker clutching his stomach and crying about being hungry after Fallon released him.

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