The clerk stormed into Commune C at exactly five in the morning.
He had come prepared to shout, he had come prepared to berate, and he took great pleasure in both.
The door slammed hard enough against the concrete wall to echo through the vast sleeping room, and his voice was already drawing breath for reprimand before his eyes finished adjusting to the dim light.
"Where the hell is everyone—" The words died in his throat as he stopped just inside the doorway of the 'trouble room', his boots planted, and his clipboard hanging forgotten at his side.
The room was… wrong.
Not messy in the way he expected. Not chaotic. Not overturned bunks and scattered bedding like men fighting over scraps. This was nothing like he has expected… it was nothing like he told the men to do before he dropped those five off in the viper pit.
This was a whole different type of aftermath he had not expected.
