A Quiet Life Denied

Shooting Range – Individual Test Zone

Third-Person POV

The sun was beginning to slide westward, casting long shadows across the wide field behind the east wing. The sharp smell of cordite still clung faintly to Franz's hoodie as he walked away from the shooting range, Emphera trailing behind him and Iris falling into step on his other side.

Franz had aced it—300 out of 300. Iris had been second, with 294. Emphera had landed somewhere in the middle of the pack, ranking 14th, and was still muttering about how she is prodigy in shooting."

As they passed the final safety checkpoint, Emphera sighed dramatically and holstered her regulation pistol into its foam-lined case.

"I swear I felt that gun didn't want to part ways with me," she said. "It looked into my soul and said, 'Please don't leave me.'

"You are such a drama queen," Iris murmured.

Emphera raised an eyebrow. "Okay, Uh... You're such a sniper queen."

Franz adjusted the sleeves of his hoodie, the soft fabric slightly bunching around his wrists. It was loose, nondescript—just another black hoodie among many. It hid the shape of him well. No one gave him a second glance as he walked past; he blended in, quiet and average eye.

The trio arrived at the central arena where banners for the team event fluttered gently in the breeze. The rest of the main cast was already there—Zane tossing a water bottle in one hand, Celeste stretching out her legs, Orion standing stiffly by the benches. Serena Caldwell stood not far off, surrounded by her usual constellation of perfectly-groomed girls. Her eyes briefly landed on Franz, but she said nothing.

A loud, metallic click sounded from overhead. All heads turned to the mounted speakers as the announcer's voice echoed across the field.

"Attention, students. Phase Three of the Aptitude Assessment will now begin: the Team Tactics Examination, also known as Capture the Flag."

A murmur passed through the crowd.

"You will be divided into teams of five. Each match consists of two 20-minute rounds."

As the students began to gather in tighter clusters, the announcer continued:

"One team will be designated as the Seekers. Their objective: locate and tag the opposing team's Flag Bearer. The defending team—Holders—must avoid getting eliminated."

On cue, a large digital screen behind the announcer flashed to life, displaying a diagram of the terrain: a massive outdoor course filled with partial ruins, brush cover, trenches, and hidden passageways.

"Only one member of each team will carry the flag. Your team must decide privately who that will be. That information is not disclosed to the opposing team. Only members of the same team will know their Flag Bearer."

Eyes started darting between teammates.

"Additionally," the announcer went on, "certain 'bonus items' will be hidden throughout the course. Retrieving them earns your team extra points—even if you lose the round. Use of environment, teamwork, and strategy are encouraged."

Emphera leaned toward Franz, squinting at the screen. "So… we're playing tactical tag with lore drops?"

"The Flag Bearer cannot tag anyone," the announcer clarified. "Even if your team is on offense. And only the opposing team's Flag Bearer can be tagged. Anyone else touched is considered 'down' and must exit the field."

A buzzer rang sharply across the field, signaling the formation of teams. Students checked their watches and scanned their ID bands, waiting for their group assignments to display.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Names began flashing on the digital board.

Before anyone could speak, the announcer's voice returned. "Students whose names are announced please proceed to briefing tents on opposite sides of the field. You will have ten minutes to finalize roles and discuss tactics. Use the time wisely."

....

....

The dense, obstacle-littered arena stretched out in every direction—concrete pillars, rust-colored bunkers, scaffold towers, and long stretches of tall grass and scrap-metal walls. Above, the sun filtered through a lattice of clouds, casting sharp shadows across the makeshift battlefield.

Team Blue gathered behind one of the stone barriers near their base zone—five silhouettes crouched low, tension palpable. There was no sound beyond the wind and the occasional echo of the announcer's voice fading into the distance.

Zane was the first to speak.

"Alright. One of us needs to carry the flag."

He was crouched on the balls of his feet, arms resting on his knees. His usually easygoing face was locked in something resembling focus. Something… nearly serious.

"It has to be someone quick. But also someone who won't get instantly tagged," said Iris, adjusting her gloves, her violet eyes narrowed in calculation. "The flag bearer can't defend themselves once the game starts. They're basically bait."

"Don't look at me," Emphera muttered, her head pressed against the barrier. "I have too much to live for."

"This isn't life or death, Emphera." Orion said dryly.

"Exactly. I'm all about style, not survival."

Orian thought to himself

'Is she retarded or something?'

Celeste rolled her eyes and stepped forward. "We need to stop wasting time. We have few minutes before the match starts."

Orion leaned back, brushing a hand through his Red hair. "Then make a case. Who's got the best chance of getting away unseen? Or lasting long enough for the timer to run out?"

Zane tapped his fingers on his knee, glancing around the group.

Iris, focused but clearly not thrilled at the idea of being tagged.

Celeste, calculating, but not built for long-distance running or dodging.

Emphera—already slouching with her hand half-raised like she was skipping a school test.

"Iris would make sense," Zane said slowly, "but they'd go for her immediately. She's too… visible."

Celeste nodded. "Exactly. The obvious choice is often the first target."

"What if we make it look like the obvious choice is the wrong one?" Orion said. "Use Iris as a decoy. Make it seem like she's holding the flag so they focus her. Meanwhile—"

"We sneak it to someone else." Iris finished. "Risky, but possible. They won't know who has it once the game starts."

Celeste looked between them. "Then we need someone who can act like they don't have it but still move cleanly through the terrain. That narrows it to…"

She trailed off, eyes falling on Zane.

"…him."

Zane blinked. "Me?"

"You play dumb convincingly," Iris said.

"That's not a compliment."

"But you're fast. You can dodge. You're unpredictable. And nobody will assume we're dumb enough to make you the flag bearer."

"I feel so honored," Zane muttered, hand on his chest.

Celeste tossed him the armband—sleek black, with a folded strip of blue fabric in the center. The flag, thin and barely visible until unfurled.

"It's yours. Don't lose it."

00:09:59…

...

...

Meanwhile – Team Red Side

Far across the field, in the shadows of rusted steel scaffolding and scattered oil drums, another team crouched together behind a low concrete wall. The air smelled of dust and metal. The light slanted low now, casting long shadows across the broken terrain.

They weren't talking strategy.

They were playing a game.

"Mini... Myneee... Moe," Serena sang softly, her finger landing on the last member of the group—a nervous-looking girl who immediately shook her head in panic.

"Uh-uh. Nope. I can't run, I have asthma—!"

"You lost. Flag duty is yours," Serena said with a flat smile, brushing invisible lint off her pristine shoulder like she was assigning a chore to a maid. "Rules are rules."

Franz exhaled and muttered, "What did I do to get stuck with her …"

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A/N

Hey everyone!Sorry for the delay—it's been about 15 days since the last update. I had some personal things to take care of that pulled me away from writing for a bit. Thank you so much for your patience and for sticking with the story.

xoxo

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________