They marched across the stone-paved road, square boots echoing against the cold ground towards a tall, black building at the edge of the compound: the Barracks Chief's Office.
The doors opened with a quiet hiss, revealing a room that smelled of leather, steel, and order.
Inside stood a towering man behind a desk, his uniform sharp, his presence heavy, the Barracks Chief himself.
Scott swallowed hard as the air seemed to grow thicker.
They stepped into the Barracks Chief's office, the heavy doors sliding shut behind them with a low mechanical hiss.
The space smelled of polished steel and old paper, the air was cool and still like time itself held its breath here.
The Barracks Chief, a towering figure with a chest full of medals and sharp eyes that missed nothing, rose to his feet the moment they entered. With a sharp motion, he brought his hand up in salute.
"At ease," the gateman said calmly, returning the salute with only a subtle nod.
Scott's jaw nearly dropped.
Wait… what?
A gateman someone he assumed was low-level security had just been saluted by the head of the barracks.His mind reeled, trying to piece it together.
The gateman stepped forward.
"Chief, it seems this young man has a problem."
The Chief's brow furrowed ever so slightly.
"What do you mean, sir?" he asked with measured formality.
The gateman placed a firm hand on Scott's shoulder.
"This young man claims he received admission to PROTOCOL," he said.
"But according to him… he never sat for the exams. Never applied. Said he thought it was all a mistake."
The Barracks Chief blinked slowly, visibly unsettled.
He tapped a button on his desk. A faint blue glow** lit the room as a holographic interface flickered to life — a panel of rotating files, images, and biometric scans.
"Let me check the records, sir."
He turned his gaze to Scott.
"What's your name, recruit?"
Scott hesitated, still stunned.
"Scott… Scott Saw McKnight, sir. That's my name."
The Chief's fingers danced over the holographic panel. Silence fell — heavy, awkward, suffocating.
The room seemed smaller now, as though closing in. The hum of the tech, the low buzz of the overhead lights, and even the muffled sounds of the outside world all faded into the background.
Then a "ding".
The Chief stared at the data, his expression shaked.
He looked up, eyes locked on Scott.
"Scott Saw McKnight…" he repeated. "You were present during the exams."
He paused, then said the next words slowly, like he couldn't believe them himself.
"And not only that — you had the one of the score among all recruits."
Scott's heart dropped.
His legs felt weak, and he instinctively took a step back, like the truth had weight. The air was colder now.
The room too quiet. He looked between the Chief and the gateman, trying to make sense of the impossible.
But deep inside him, a question was beginning to form
"If I didn't take the test… then who'.
Scott's voice cracked as he muttered.
The Chief didn't flinch.
"Well, I believe the records to be more reliable.
We have your image, your biometrics, even footage of you sitting in the testing chamber. The barracks chief continued.
A sharp whirr from the desk. A projection flickered to life — grainy at first, then sharpening into focus.
There he was.
Scott Saw McKnight, clear as day, seated in a chrome testing pod.
Eyes locked ahead, hands flying across a holographic console, calm and composed like a soldier born.
Scott stared, mouth slightly open. He looked… capable. Focused.
It didn't feel like him but it was undeniably his face. His body. His presence.
Beside him, the gateman chuckled, arms crossed.
"I already checked the records long before we got here,"
he said. "You were there. Every sensor confirmed it down to your heartbeat."
Scott's mind spun.
When did this happen?
How could I forget something like this?
He dug deep into the haze of his memories endless days of lying in bed, eyes glued to a flickering screen, drowning in static thoughts.
"Maybe it was when I was depressed... maybe I blacked out? Maybe I...?" he thought, panic rising.
"Even if I did somehow write it... where did I get the connections? The clearance? I never went to the Academy... I've never even seen a military classroom."
Confusion twisted into frustration — hot and sharp, buzzing beneath his skin like static electricity. His breathing quickened. He felt like the room was spinning.
"HEY! Scott!"
A voice, loud and sudden, cracked the fog in his mind.
He snapped out of it, eyes darting toward the Chief.
"Huh?" he blinked, disoriented.
The Chief raised an eyebrow.
"Now that you have your answer… do you have anything to say?"
Scott swallowed hard.
"No sir..." he muttered, barely above a whisper.
The gateman turned. "Chief"
"Yes, sir!" the Chief responded immediately.
"Take good care of him. Get him settled."
A hand to his chest, the Chief gave a nod.
"Yes, sir."
Scott stared between them, lips parting slightly as if to speak but nothing came out.
It was like watching two statues converse in a language he didn't understand.
The weight of the moment made him feel small, invisible, yet somehow… chosen.
He wanted to interrupt. To shout that they had the wrong guy. To demand an explanation.But instead, he just stood there.
Frozen.
The gateman turned toward the door, his coat trailing slightly behind him. He looked back once.
"Okay, soldier. Good day."
And just like that, he was gone — the doors closing with a soft, mechanical hiss. The silence left behind felt far louder than any noise.
Scott stood alone beside the Barracks Chief, unsure of who he was anymore.
[UNKNOWN POV]
Ha!, general carter.
Still as cold as ever.
Yes, but I'm sure he'll make the boy fit right in.
Yeah...I'm sure he WILL.