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The repetitive shuffle of feet floods Atlas' ears. It was a rude awakening from his numb and cold thoughts. Upon entering, the troops kept their straight formation and headed to a stern woman brandishing a clipboard. The soldiers turned on their heels, which prompted the resistance members to mimic clumsily. As each group of soldiers stepped forward, they recited the same words--"Commander, Squadron 5 reporting victory. We experienced three losses." The sentence would barely leave their lips before the woman scribbled on her wooden weapon.

The line was increasingly short as the 'new' squadron stepped up to bat. The woman's taut bun pulled the wrinkles free from her dark skin. Her brown eyes bore into Atlas as she moved directly in front of him. Her eyes raked up and down his form. Atlas tensed up from worry and prayed she did not notice the slight flinch. He prayed she could not see his strong-- and distinctly male jaw just under his cumbersome headgear.

"Squadron Leader, what's your status report?" she practically spat the words, mere inches from the man's face. Atlas' breath hitched, and he froze. Icy worry coursed through his veins, and his thoughts prevented any words from escaping his throat.

What makes me the squad leader? This wasn't part of the plan. Hope was supposed to be our voice!

From his peripheral, Atlas noticed the bright red knot displayed confidently on his left bicep. None of his comrades had a bandana to match-- which denoted him as the leader.

Which makes me an idiot.

"Commander! Permission to speak." Hope squeaked out the robust title before recomposing herself. The woman's beady eyes whipped around to the girl angrily. She moved so that she was not spitting at Hope's feet rather than Atlas'.

"What is so important that you have to interrupt line up, soldier?" Commander hissed.

"I am squadron leader 6. In a rush to battle, we mixed up our top units.'' The feeble lie seemed convincing enough. Atlas breathed out a sigh of relief. He would have to thank Hope later for her quick-witted response. A sharp thump pulled his attention sideways. The woman had smack Hope across the face. Even though the headgear, he could see the uncomfortable twist of her neck. Hope sucked in a breath and turned to face the middle-aged woman once more. Atlas watched the fiery redhead's hand contract into a fist. She was pissed.

The commander's low voice rumbled quietly and threateningly as she addressed Hope again. "Don't let it happen again. Status. Now." Venom oozed from the slave driver's words, but Hope persevered and swallowed hard. With the calmest voice Atlas had ever heard, Hope spoke, "Commander, Squadron 11 reporting victory. We experienced one loss."

"Eleven...off to the living quarters with you." With that, the angry marks were added to her checklist as she moved down the line to insult another soldier. Hope jerked to the side and followed where the previously dismissed troops had headed. Convenient signs lined each corner providing some sense of direction. The living quarters weren't far as Hope ushered 'Squadron 11' through the bright corridors.

Atlas took in his surroundings carefully, already plotting their escape. The roof that they had used previously was likely heavily guarded this time around. Squadrons moved quietly passed them with purpose. All of them were clad in their black armor, hiding their faces.

I would hide my face too. All the heinous crimes Colin spoke of... stupid government.

The doors in the living quarters were all numbered. Hope walked up to the entrance adorned with large white lettering: 10 & 11. The door was ajar as Hope stood in the full-frame, frozen momentarily before stepping forward into the room. As I followed her close, I suddenly realized why she had paused. Six women stood stark naked in a door like room. Bunk Beds did little to hide their bodies from our sight. They had shed their combat gear and were in the process of replacing it with what Atlas could only assume was their daily wear.

Atlas averted his eyes to give them some semblance of privacy-- not that they appeared to be concerned. After all, these women believed that they were in the presence of fellow females. With heated cheeks, Atlas looked back to their now clothed bodies as he tried to appear natural in the space. He moved to one of the pristine and unclaimed beds to shoulder off his weapon. The other undercover soldiers followed his lead and moved to separate bunks.

"Are you the new squad leader for Eleven?" A gruff and familiar voice sounded from beside Atlas. He turned to see the woman who had rescued them after their last stay at the 5 star, Ritz Gone Wrong Inn.

"Actually, I am," Hope saved Atlas once more, "We had a uniform mix up when we left for the attack."

Their savior raised her eyebrows as she eyed Hope, "Hm. I bet she let you have it then? I'm the squadron leader and weapons specialist for Ten. You can call me Sergeant Anita. How was your first battle?" she questioned, still eyeing the girl suspiciously. Hope reached up to touch her, undoubtedly sore, cheek. She rested her hand on her helmet as she replied, "It was... interesting. Not what I expected."

The woman nodded and gestured to the thin mattresses around them, "We'll go on. Take a seat. Take your suits off and relax. The battles over."

Atlas and Hope glanced at one another quickly before Hope scrambled for another excuse. Atlas could hear the gears turning in her head. His own heart picked up its pace from the mere prospect of lying in such a dangerous situation.

Hope hadn't failed yet, and she wouldn't now. She spoke her next words with confidence, "We can't Eleven is on patrol in ten minutes."

Anita's eyebrows raised impossibly higher as she watched Hope. Before she could respond to the remark, a loud squeak sounded through the room.

"Attention all soldiers. Report to your stations for a counter-attack. I repeat: report to your stations for a counter-attack."

The loud static of an intercom bust through Atlas' ears. The foreboding command was almost enough to make him move. Squadron 10 hurriedly fastened their belts and laced their boots, filling out the door. The last soldier to leave was Anita. Without thinking, Atlas grabbed her arm. His mistake was met with a rifle. That same barrel had been pointed at him once already, but this time he had no fear. In a low whisper, he spoke, "Anita. It's me, Atlas. We're all with the resistance."

Anita's mouth twitched into a grin, "I told you. You always liked non-progressive strategies. Now you came back to the place you finally escaped." she looked around to the others, confused, "Where's Hope?"

Hope raised her arm and whispered, "Here," still rubbing her cheek. Atlas stepped to Hope and removed his bandana. He pressed the rough material to her arm and tied it comfortably around to deter any more confusion.

Anita watched with a grin. She glanced up at the blinking red camera light, and her jovial expression vanished. Her face was unreadable as she whispered, "We can't talk here. Follow the signs to the boiler room, but be careful. The engineers will report you if they find you down there without proper authorization. I'll meet you there in five, and then we can talk."

Anita rushed out the door, no doubt trying to maintain her cover by appearing for the attack preparation. Atlas and Hope shared a glance. Their coop had finally begun. They would finally devise a master plan to save Adira.