Chapter 10(i) – Orders and Instincts
"New Standards"
POV: Jane
The first thing I noticed about Sector A was how quiet it was.
Not the dead kind of quiet we were used to—this was intentional, structured. The buildings stood in calculated rows, surrounded by fencing that wasn't makeshift, but military-grade. Spotlights moved on automated rails. Cameras blinked on corners. Guards didn't just stand with rifles—they moved with precision, covered head to toe in armor I didn't even know existed before the Fall.
Grey barely looked surprised.
We pulled up in carriers—battered and dented from the last skirmish—into a plaza-like checkpoint. Above us, a sign read Welcome to Sector A/1: Stability Through Order. The words felt like a slap.
The soldiers here didn't shout. They scanned. They observed. We were immediately lined up and checked by machines—scanners that beeped with soft authority.
It all felt... surreal.
Amy kept quiet. Luke smiled too easily, probably overcompensating. Scarlett stayed locked in. Jonah whispered a joke about the guards being clones. Blair muttered something about finally feeling safe. I didn't know how to feel.
We were told there'd be a briefing followed by a "classification phase"—aka a training test to determine what kind of asset we'd be. "Specialty-based assignment," they called it. Sounded better than "Who survives best with what."
Then came the curveball.
They started asking for blood.
Not forcibly—at least not yet—but through rations. A bag of rice and a protein bar for a small vial. I saw homeless sector survivors stepping forward, arms out, desperate. Some smiled as they handed over their essence for a meal.
Luke started moving too.
"Don't," Grey's voice came, low and sharp. "Don't give them your blood."
Luke paused. "Why?"
Grey didn't answer—not fully. Just looked away like the walls were listening.
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POV: Luke
Grey nudged my arm and tilted his head toward a less lit corner of the compound. I followed, confused but curious. He glanced over his shoulder before digging into that brown pouch he always pretended wasn't there.
Out came the syringe.
The onyx one.
He didn't explain it like a teacher. He handed it to me like it was normal. Like it wasn't glowing in that weird, low way that made it feel like it was alive.
"If something happens during a check or on the road—something you can't handle—stab yourself with this."
I looked at it.
Then at him.
Then back at it.
"…Grey," I said, blinking. "What the actual hell is this, man? This looks like it came out of a video game boss fight."
He just stared at me.
I tried to laugh it off, spinning the syringe slightly in my fingers. "You want me to keep this in my pocket like breath mints?"
"No. Close to your heart. Somewhere you won't drop it."
His tone was dead serious. That Grey kind of serious. The kind that somehow made silence feel like it was yelling at you.
"Okay," I nodded slowly. "So this is... like... a plan B. But one that comes with side effects I'll probably regret."
"You'll know when to use it."
He walked away like he didn't just hand me what might be superpowers—or poison. Hard to tell with him.
I stared at the vial.
"…I swear to God if this turns me into a frog or something, I'm coming back to haunt him."
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POV: Jane (cont'd)
Later, after dinner (which tasted surprisingly like actual food), we sat on metal steps in the far corner of the camp. No one said much. The tension from the Amy fight still hung around like smoke.
Scarlett leaned against a railing. Blair had her knees up, arms crossed on them. Jonah was poking at his mashed potato pouch like it offended him.
We waited for the briefing.
Grey sat near the edge, elbows on his knees, watching the guards march like clockwork. His fingers were twitching slightly.