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The classroom rose into flames as the heavy vehicles pelted the brick building with a salvo of shells. Blake instinctively dove for hard cover behind a narrow wall.

("Why here and now,") he thought to himself as his class representative rag-dolled[1] beside him and out the door. This disgusting disfigured corpse caused some of the other cadets to shriek in fear, but before they could try to run away the tanks gunners melted them with the fixed machine guns. Blake couldn't help but to feel pity for them.

Senior Cadet Blake Hollands reviewed his situation for any holes in the aggressors plot. Sadly the tanks had dispatched a few squads of rifleman who were only a short 20 yards from the windows of the first floor.

Being on the second level of the academy allowed Blake to maneuver his way out the door and towards the school armory. From his current location it would be a brisk 10 minute jog to the first level passageway and another four minute run to the munitions. This was all being hopeful that the students were intending to fight and that the hostiles had yet to secure the building.

Alternatively he could just run to the evacuation point in the middle of the academy, but the fear of being decimated by tanks stapled the fact that retreat was not an option. Thinking of the shame of dying a coward he darted for the armory.

Along the way he evaded two fireteams who idly laughed as they began playing games with three cadet captives. The soldiers made the cadets dance around by shooting at their feet. When the captive no longer played the game they were to be stabbed by the other prisoners. While this happened gun shots rang from every direction as executions began to occur around the campus. Unforgivable.

On the final 20 yard dash to the armory a shot landed no more than an inch from Blake's head causing him to tumble onto the tiled floor. He slammed his head hard and a warm trickling sensation began at the top of his scalp.

Before he could ready himself, two soldiers were over him and began to play the same sick and twisted games he saw earlier. Bellowing out he yelled at the soldiers, "Well you just get it over with?"

The man simply smiled ear to ear before grabbing Blake and shoving him against a wall quiet forcefully. The first soldier braced his sidearm against Blake's head, "We take hime back to garrison for Platoon Leader's fun?"

Spitting onto the soldier Blake yelled again, "Like Hell I will you putrid bag of shit!"

The soldier slammed the rear of his rifle into Blake's abdomen which sucked all of the air out of him.

The second soldier began to chuckle at the thought of what their grand leader would do with the Cadet. If the gamers did not change then after hours of torcher the Cadet would eventually be sacrificed in some sick manner. Their last game involved a minefield run were the winner was awarded mercy.

After they bound Blake and began to walk away, a crisp sound was heard from down the hallway.

BANG

Soldier One holding the cadet flailed around as if he was trying to find the noise but simply slumped to the ground dead. Soldier Two raised his rifle and starting firing at random before another noise was heard.

BANG

He too fell to the ground. A young cadet ran towards Blake and grabbed him by the collar. Escorting him to the armory the young man announced himself to his senior, "Junior Cadet Alben Dipley of year XXXX, this is whats left of us lower classes. Class A and most of our seniors are trapped on the upper levels. All of our teachers..."

The junior cadet's eyes began to water but he fought the urge to cry. Now was certainly not the time to get emotional.

Realizing that he was dragged into the armory Blake rose high and looked at all of his Juniors. He noticed a handful of his classmates had been rescued but were incapacitated and required a physician.

Another look around the small complex revealed that including the students on duty at the armory he had roughly ninety juniors at his disposal between all of the years. This academy was meant to instruct a thousand students every year. "Bloody hell," he thought aloud, "The Federation will pay for their crime."

Blake looked back to his juniors and then to his rescuer. A cadet behind him undid the binding from earlier.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead he signaled for the boy's attention. "Junior Diply," he paused for a minute, "is everyone ready?"

The junior cadet was shocked for a moment but gathered his strength as he realized why his senior asked him this question. He loaded a fresh magazine into his rifle. Chambering the round he looked upon his senior with a smile, "Ready as ever senior, what shall we do?"

**********

[1] Rag dolling is a recent term used dominantly by gamers and streamers. To be rag-dolled is to be whisked away from end to end in a bazaar and mesmerizing manner.