I awoke the next morning to the annoying sound of Whiteford’s voice blasting over the speakers with a message on repeat. I rubbed my eyes and sat up with a groan, reluctantly listening in on what the announcement was saying.


    “Due to recent events,” I winced, realizing what the ‘recent events’ were. “A mandatory gathering has been commanded outside of The Sphere. Arrive as soon as possible. We will begin in approximately fifteen minutes.”


    I stood shakily as the message repeated, donning my clothes and emerging into the main room. I saw no one else, so I assumed that they were either already there or still in their rooms. I promptly walked out the door, not wanting to wait in my room any longer.


    A bit of buzzing anxiety grew in my chest as I approached the area. The seconds felt like ages as my mind spun with all of the possible consequences of Whiteford discovering what I had done. My body was suddenly heavy, as if there was a half-ton weight in the pit of my stomach. I could be killed; that was certain. Perhaps they would spare me due to my skill, after all, they had forgiven me for murdering the old man in the cafe. But I was sure that I would be severely punished if I was found out.


    Before, my life had begun to regain hopefulness. And now, it had returned to the grim acceptance that there was no chance of happiness for me. I would always be nothing more than someone shunned by society, thrown in prison and feared by small children.


    …Maybe not that last one.


    After far too much time that I spent walking and thinking, I emerged onto the lawn. I was first bit with the cold, and cursed myself for not doing any of the external clothes the CIA had provided us - if only just my leather jacket. Shivering, I crossed my arms and pulled my posture inward, trying to warm my arms. While doing that, my gaze found its way forward, examining the scene in front of me.


    Whiteford stood with a makeshift podium upon the steps in front of the Sphere, elevating her just above the standing crowd. I approached carefully, making out Seph’s face. His expression was grave, and you could tell that his sleep was not quite restful. Naomi was next to him, but Mel, Les, and Vivian were nowhere to be seen.


    I mentally smacked myself. Of course Mel wasn’t there, they’re…


    A new wave of crushing grief came to my already shitty emotional state. I cut off the thought before it could do any more damage to me, settling next to Seph.


    We shared a look, his eyes full with a mix of unidentifiable emotions. Naomi stared ahead, xyr expression neutral.


    “We’ll be starting shortly,” Whiteford said. Her voice was raw; everything about her seemed to be strained. She seemed almost… sad.


    Shiiiiiit.


    I bit my lower lip in anticipation. I had no affirmation of my safety, but the overall ignorance to my presence by everyone was enough to slightly quell my anxiety. The crowd was silent, and the overall mood weighed down on us like a heavy fog. For any outsider, we could have been attending a funeral.


    Then again… I suppose we were here to grieve.


    Or, everyone else was. I was here to hide, to blend in. I could not stand out or draw too much attention to myself. I was sure that a bit of digging could uncover enough to get me easily caught. Any search would reveal that I had gotten the USB drive out of the storage and had CIA bullets in my gun. This would lead to the knowledge that I was sneaking around and actively using my weapon. By then, it would be easy to figure out who had committed the crime.


    I saw the last bits of people come out, including Les showing up at the opposite side of the crowd. Vivian crept to the back, putting herself out of sight. The steady stream of officers arriving came to a slow end, and Whiteford began.


    “Last night, in the deepest parts of the campus, we lost ten brave soldiers.” Whiteford began, confirming my guess on exactly what this meeting was about. “They were shot and killed while on guard duty. We do not yet know who the killer was, or their motive. But…” she trailed off as if for a dramatic pause. “We do know that they are standing in this crowd.”


    They found me, they found me, they fucking found me… my brain chattered whilst the crowd murmured.


    “The murder was committed with CIA-style bullets, and camera footage proves that no one entered or exited the area through any methods that are not in the campus. Not a single person went in or out of campus either.


    “In addition to this, the campus is not on a lockdown investigation. No one is permitted in or out,” Whiteford said. The crowd was silent at this, as if stunned. “There is one more thing that was learnt last night,” she continued. “We found a traitor amongst us who was in open communication channels with Russian military operations in the south.”


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    I processed that information, making the connection that Valamir must’ve gotten some troops into the Caribbean as Whiteford suspected may have happened.


    “Our initial suspicion was that she was the one who committed the killings, but she was in captivity all night. This leads us to believe that we have more spies amongst us.” Whiteford paused again. “Everyone should be ready, as we will be searching for and removing the disloyals amongst us. Traitors, be warned.”


    At those words, screaming filled our ears. Two armed soldiers pulled a small woman from the door of the Sphere. She had raven-black hair and deeply tanned skin. Her eyes were large and emerald-colored. She was covered in bruises, and bits of maroon blood dripped from her forehead. She flailed against her bindings - tight roped binding her wrists together.


    Before anyone could even react, one of the two soldiers brought his gun to her temple. There was a loud shot, and the screaming stopped.


    Blood spurted from the wound, landing droplets onto the soldier’s fronts. Squishy grey matter inside flew in every direction. The woman swayed on her knees, a gaping hole in her head where the side of her head once was. I caught a flash of the fleshy interior of her skull before she was promptly dragged away.


    Whiteford took one last glance at the crowd before whipping around and slamming the Sphere doors behind her.


    The crowd was shocked, staying silent as they stared at where the gruesome spectacle once was. Now, there was a small blood stain, as well as dirt from the woman’s clothing.


    It had dawned on me that there was a very high chance that I would be caught if I didn’t hide the USB, and perhaps the bullets in my gun as well. It would be easy to see that they were the exact model that the ones used to commit the murders were. The crowd began to talk again, quietly. Leaving me to lean over to Seph and say “Well, that was one hell of a spectacle.”


    “Certainly,” he responded, his voice slightly shaking.


    I grabbed his arm lightly. “Let’s go back.”


    He slowly turned his head, his eyes meeting mine. “Yes… let’s.”


    We backed away from the crowd, following in the footsteps of the few others that chose to disperse early. Naomi trailed not far behind.


    Not wanting xem to overhear what I said, I leaned in close to Seph and whispered: “Russian spy, huh?”


    The ghost of a smile touched his lips. “You didn’t tell me you were working for Valamir.”


    “I was going to get to it eventually,” I responded, pulling back and glancing forward once more.


    I pulled the door to our dorm building open, stepping aside to let Seph in. I contemplated just continuing to walk with him, but decided to stay long enough to let Naomi through. Seph seemed to see what I was doing and stepped beside me.


    Naomi’s walk seemed to quicken, and xe nodded to us as xe reached the door. The three of us walked back to our room together in silence. Upon arriving, I immediately entered my room without a word, leaving Naomi and Seph in the main area.


    I reached into my bag and yanked out the USB and gun. I pulled out the gun, and opened the magazine, yanking out the ammunition. It clattered upon the floor as I carelessly dumped it. The gun, however, I set down gingerly. I pulled the bullets together into a pile, and contemplated what to do.


    On one hand, anything but disposing of them posed a great threat to me. There were plenty of ways that they could be found, and just that would be enough to put me to death just as easily as they had done with the Russian woman. But, if it came down to it, I would probably need the bullets to defend myself at some point if I continued to search around.


    I wasn’t even sure if I could make it out of this base, but I could sure as hell try. And, having a loaded gun would definitely help my chances in that scenario.


    After a long time of sitting on the ground, I picked up the now empty firearm and placed it back into my bag. I took the bullets into a cupped hand and slipped them into my pocket, my eyes and brain now set on a new task - finding a suitable hiding place. I slipped the USB into my pocket as well, deciding to find a separate hiding place for each item.


    The room was still mostly bare: just a desk, a bed, and a closet. Even if I could find a loose board, those were the first searching place for investigators. I needed a better hiding spot. Sure, the files on the USB were on my computer - but a physical backup really would come in handy in case anything was ever compromised.


    My best hiding place was the garbage bin, just under the bag inside. We were responsible for taking out our own trash, so no one would stumble upon it accidentally. Even if they did, I could just say that I meant to throw it in the bag. I quickly set it at the bottom of the can, and replaced the plastic bag.


    Now came the hiding place for the bullets. That would be much more complicated, as if someone found them, they would definitely be suspicious.


    Unless I made them look like my own bullets.


    I pulled one of them out of my pocket, slowly examining it. The making was fine, beautiful even. Not a single curve was out of line. Which was a lot of care, considering this was just an object to pierce one''s body when shot towards them. There was a ‘CIA’ carved into the metal. My first thought was to apply paint and even everything out, but a painted bullet would look quite suspicious.


    I could burn the metal and twist it to be unrecognizable. That was a good choice, I decided. Even though the bullets might not fly as well, it would be better than nothing. The hardest part of that task would be just getting fire, but I was sure that I could manage. But, maybe with some help.


    I stood up again, walking out into the main room. Seph sat on a bench, looking at something on his phone. “Seph…?” I asked.


    He looked up. “Hm?” he asked in response.


    “Could you come into my room for a second?”


    His eyes flashed with something I could not recognize. “Sure,” he responded, standing and slipping his device into his pocket.


    I led him into my room and over to my desk, making sure he closed the door behind us.


    “What is it?” Seph asked me.


    Without giving a verbal response, I dumped the bullets onto the table, quickly pushing mine from the CIA’s.


    “These,” I pointed to the pile of CIA bullets, “Are the bullets I used to kill eight of those who died that day. These,” I pointed towards mine, “Are the bullets used to kill the other two. I need them to get burnt and bent out of shape.”


    His brow furrowed as he glanced from the two piles. “Well,” he said after a while. “I’m not the one who can help with that.”


    I frowned, before realizing that he had more to say.


    “But I know someone who can.”