Shattered: Beyond End [RECODED] Arc 1: Echoes Before Fire
Chapter 12 — Before They Tell You What to Be
——
A shrill crackle sliced through the silence.
"BZZZT—TOMORROW, CLASSES BEGIN. AND WEAR YOUR DAMN UNIFORM."
The voice hit like a blunt object—metal dragged across nerves.
Zhangwa blinked up at the nearest ceiling speaker, her face twisted.
"Was that... Mr. Park?"
Her tone wasn't confusion—it was horror.
Jackson didn't wait. He straightened up, hands still half-clenched from tension.
"All right. That's it then." His voice was calm, but iron-edged. "We head back. Everyone. Now."
The air didn't move. Two squads, frozen in the static of a war that hadn't happened—yet.
Rael tilted his head, still smiling. Like a jackal admiring his reflection in broken glass.
Kun didn't say a word.
Just let his glare drag over Rael one more time—slow, cold, unapologetic.
A silent promise: You're not off the hook.
Then he turned and walked.
One by one, Oblivion Squad followed. Smiley moved last, hands folded behind his head like he hadn't just watched a verbal knife-fight nearly turn physical.
"Damn," he muttered, voice flat as hell. "So much for 'new squad bonding.'"
The hallway swallowed them.
Fluorescent lights overhead buzzed and flickered like they were tired of their own job. No windows. No clocks. Just a sterile stretch of reinforced corridors lined with gray steel doors and wall-mounted cameras that pretended not to watch.
Footsteps echoed—uneven, scuffed, human.
Suho walked like a blade—precise, silent.
Kun's stride was loose, but high-shouldered. Still riding the heat.
Mika didn't look back. Neither did Zhangwa.
They passed another squad's dorm. Muffled techno spilled out from under the door—distorted, aggressive, too confident. Like someone inside thought they were immortal.
"I swear," Zhangwa muttered, "I'm gonna shank the next guy who breathes near Mika."
"No you won't," Jackson said, tone dry as concrete.
"I won't shank them deep."
"You're not shanking anyone," Mika said quietly. "I'll take care of it myself if I have to."
Zhangwa paused.
Then grinned. "Damn. Cold. I love it."
Smiley let out a low laugh. "Guess we are Squad Oblivion after all. Walking disasters with matching boots."
When they reached their room, Jackson pushed the door open with a dull creak. No locks. No codes. Just a slab of metal between chaos and sleep.
"Home sweet metal box," Kun muttered as he stepped inside.
They filed in.
The room was half-lit by a single flickering overhead panel.
Bags sat half-unpacked on beds. Personal items scattered like war debris.
The air smelled of cheap detergent, sweat, and damp boot leather.
Outside the thick-pane window, the shimmer-barrier hummed quietly. Above it, Alpha District's artificial moonlight shone like a lie. Clean. Controlled. Safe.
Kun dropped onto his bed with a grunt, face-down, arms splayed.
"I fucking hate that guy," he said into his pillow.
"Which one?" Suho asked from across the room.
Kun didn't even lift his head.
"Take your pick."
——
A sharp knock at the door cut through the squad's half-dead mood.
Jackson rose instantly, instincts coiled tighter than the steel hinges.
By the time he opened the door, his posture had already shifted—straight spine, squared shoulders, zero warmth.
Two Administration guards stood in the hallway, faceless behind matte black visors.
The taller one held a gray duffel marked with the COUNTERS emblem—slick, sterile, government-issued.
"This is your uniform," one said.
Voice filtered. Mechanical. Empty.
"Wear it tomorrow. Or be punished."
The bag was shoved forward. Jackson took it without a word.
The second guard added, "Formal dress shoes included. Standard policy. Wear them. No exceptions."
The door hissed shut behind them with a click too soft to mean so much—
but it did.
Jackson turned and dropped the duffel onto the nearest bed.
The sound it made was heavier than fabric had any right to be.
"Guess they want us looking pretty," he muttered.
Zhangwa was already there, digging through it like a gremlin in a gift bag.
"Ooooh—found mine! Damn, this stitching's insane. Look, it even has our names—wait…"
She froze.
Held up a jet-black tag with clean white print.
Zhangwa
Then another:
Mika Tanaka
Jackson Drake
Smiley Moreau
Finally:
Kun X.
Suho X.
She blinked. "…Wait. Why do you guys have an 'X'?"
The air shifted. Like something old had just gotten dragged into the light.
Suho stood slowly. Kun sat up straighter.
Both stared at the tags like they'd seen something crawl out of them.
Suho looked at Kun.
Neither spoke.
They didn't need to.
"…What the fuck?" Kun said first. "I've never had a last name. Not even on my D9 file."
"Same," Suho murmured. He took the tag in his hand like it might detonate. "Even our old IDs were blank under surname."
Zhangwa tilted her head. "So what is it then? A glitch? A hidden file? Some big reveal waiting to happen?"
Mika crossed her arms. "It's not random. Administration doesn't label things by accident."
Smiley, still horizontal on his top bunk, exhaled like death was boring.
"'X' is a hell of a placeholder. Or a warning."
Jackson's voice cut through, low and steady. "It's not accidental."
They all turned to him.
He scanned their faces.
"I've seen redacted tags before. In the war. 'X' meant unlisted. Sometimes it meant hidden. But sometimes… it meant marked."
"…Marked for what?" Suho asked.
Jackson didn't answer. Not because he didn't know—
but because maybe he didn't want to say it out loud.
A silence fell. Thick. Pressurized. Unspoken.
Then Kun stood. Quiet.
He walked to his bed, dropped to a crouch, and opened the metal drawer underneath.
Inside: a chain. A worn, scuffed dog tag.
He held it up.
The others leaned in as the light caught it.
A single engraved letter: X.
Not part of the uniform.
Zhangwa blinked. "What the hell...?"
Kun didn't answer.
—
"You're gonna forget a lotta things one day, Kun,"
Ray's voice, low and tired.
"But not this. Wear it when shit gets twisted. So you remember who you are—before they tell you what to be."
—
Suho spoke first. "That can't be a coincidence."
His voice was low, sharp. "Uniform says Kun X. Dog tag says X. Someone knew. Maybe long before we did."
Kun stared at the tag in his palm.
Then let out a dry laugh. "Or it's just some bullshit coincidence."
But he didn't put it away.
He looped the chain around his neck.
Let it hang over his shirt.
Didn't hide it.
Didn't smile either.
Just looked… quieter.
Jackson unzipped a side pocket of the duffel and pulled out something sleek.
Void Resonance Bracelets.
Black bands, tech-threaded, with a faint shimmer running along the rim.
"Bracelets," he said flatly. "Everyone gets one."
Suho took his first. "Void resonance monitors," he confirmed. "Same thing the drone scanned in the ruins. Mine read 3.4%."
"Is that good or bad?" Zhangwa asked.
"Normal," Suho replied. "Low enough to stay stable. High enough to not be useless."
Mika slipped hers on in silence.
Her fingers lingered on it just a second too long.
Then she tugged her sleeve over the display.
"If you spike too high," she said, "it locks you down."
Smiley yawned. "What if mine explodes? Do I still graduate?"
"Only if the explosion's stylish," Zhangwa said.
They moved on to the shoes.
Mika had already set hers on the bed—sleek, clearly expensive. Laces straight, polished.
Zhangwa's looked standard-issue, but worn in. She kicked one like it owed her money.
Smiley's were… present. Technically.
Jackson's were sharp, black military dress shoes—discipline in physical form.
Suho had a plain black pair—clean, no frills. Functional.
And then—
Kun pulled his out from under his bed.
One of them had a strip of black tape wrapped around the heel, binding a deep crack near the sole.
He looked at it. Didn't even flinch.
Mika noticed. Her eyes lingered on the tape.
She said nothing.
But something in her expression flickered.
Not pity.
Not judgment.
Loyalty.
And maybe, just maybe—
respect.
Outside the dorm, the cameras stayed on.
And the bracelets never stopped blinking.
——
Later, when the lights dimmed and the silence returned, Suho sat at the edge of his bunk—awake.
The bracelet on his wrist blinked faintly in the dark. 3.4%. Still stable. Still there.
He turned it slowly, like it might whisper something if he held it right.
Across the room, Kun was already passed out, sprawled sideways, one arm over his face, mouth slightly open. The dog tag lay against his collarbone, catching stray flashes from the bracelet light.
Zhangwa was snoring like a malfunctioning drone.
Smiley hadn't moved in over an hour. If he was dead, no one could tell.
And Mika…
She stood by the window.
Silent.
Arms crossed.
Staring out past the shimmer-barrier, where the lights of Alpha District flickered like static behind glass.
Suho watched her.
He didn't mean to.
He just did.
"You're not sleeping?" he asked, voice low.
"No."
No explanation. Just a fact.
He nodded once. Turned the bracelet again.
Then, after a pause—
"What do you think the X means?"
Mika didn't look at him. But her voice was steady when it came.
"It means you're not like the rest of us."
Another beat. Then—
"But you already knew that, didn't you?"
Suho didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
The bracelet blinked once more.
Then everything stilled.
Outside, the shimmer-barrier hummed.
Inside, the squad slept—or pretended to.
And Suho stared into the dark, as if the shadows might speak first.