Washington D.C
Howard University, Men's Dormitory Building, Room 67
The night was ink-black, and Howard University, which had been noisy all day, was gradually returning to silence.
Inside Room 67, the sound of typing keyboards mixed with game voice chat.
"Go! Tyler, you useless jerk, heal me!"
"Don't worry bro, the skill is on cooldown."
In stark contrast was the figure standing on the balcony.
Steve Stevenson, son of Stephen Stevenson, grandson of Steve Stevenson, stood with his hands in his pockets, quietly observing the dark campus road below.
The night wind stirred the hem of his clothes. His eyes were deep, as if he were waiting for something, or perhaps looking through the tranquil night at another bizarre, block-shaped world.
"Steven³, stop looking at the scenery. Hurry up and join us, we're three short of a four-man team."
His roommate shouted while furiously clicking the mouse.
Steve didn't turn around, simply replying indifferently.
"No, I'm waiting for someone."
"Waiting for someone? Who are you waiting for so late? A girlfriend?"
Just then.
Dong! Dong! Dong!
A series of dull, powerful knocks suddenly sounded.
"What the—who is it? In the middle of the night, is it the dorm supervisor checking rooms?"
Tyler, who was closest to the door, snatched off his headphones, mumbled to himself, and shuffled over in his slippers.
"Coming, coming, stop knocking."
Tyler casually pulled open the slightly worn wooden door of the dorm room.
"Let me tell you, we definitely haven't used any illegal substa—"
Before Tyler could finish his sentence, it was as if someone had suddenly grabbed his throat, and all sound instantly caught in his windpipe.
The hallway outside the door was neither empty nor occupied by the dorm supervisor.
Instead, it was filled with people.
They were uniformly dressed in dark blue military uniforms, standing tall like pines, almost completely filling the narrow corridor.
What made Tyler's scalp tingle was that the men weren't holding thermoses or books; they were holding M7 Assault Rifles, gleaming with cold metallic light.
The dark muzzles were slightly lowered, but the wave of iron-blooded killing intent that hit him instantly made Tyler's legs go weak.
"This..."
Tyler's mind went blank.
A heavily armed soldier stepped aside without expression, revealing General Randy George standing calmly at the center of the corridor.
He appeared to be in his early sixties, his hair touched with gray at the temples, yet his posture remained rigid and disciplined, straight as a drawn blade.
Under the dim corridor lights, the insignia on his shoulders caught the eye—four stars set with quiet authority, unmistakable in their meaning.
A full General.
This was not a drill instructor from military training; this was a true General holding substantial power.
The other two roommates in the dorm also noticed that something was wrong. The moment they turned their heads, their keyboards and mice clattered to the floor, and they froze in their chairs.
The old man's gaze was sharp, and he scanned the room with a loud and authoritative voice.
"Excuse me, is Steve Stevenson present?"
"Steve Stevenson?"
This address exploded in Tyler's ears. He mechanically turned his stiff neck toward the balcony.
At this moment, Steve, who had been standing with his back to everyone, slowly turned around.
Facing a room full of armed soldiers, facing the General, Steve's face showed no surprise, much less any panic.
His expression was so calm it was as if he had anticipated this moment, even carrying a hint of "oh, you finally arrived" indifference.
Steve walked past the dumbfounded Tyler, stood before the group, met the old man's gaze, and gave a slight nod.
"I... am Steve."
The old man stared intently into Steve's eyes, seemingly trying to find a flaw in the young man's composure.
But after a few seconds, he was secretly astonished.
'This young man has real grit. Even if the world were falling apart right in front of him, he'd keep his cool. Looks like his grandfather was right about him after all.'
The scrutiny in the old man's eyes instantly turned into solemn respect. He even stepped slightly aside and made a gesture of invitation.
"You may know me young man but allow me to introduce myself. I am General Randy George, Steve Stevenson. Since your identity has been confirmed, please, let's go. There are some matters we need to discuss in detail elsewhere."
Steve didn't waste words; he simply straightened his collar, his tone steady.
"General Randy, let's go. Time waits for no one."
His tone wasn't that of a suspect being taken away; rather, it sounded as if he were commanding the operation.
Watching Steve stride out of the dorm, Randy George followed closely, with two rows of soldiers turning in unison to escort them.
This scene completely shattered the worldviews of Tyler and the others.
"N*gga what the f*ck is going on?!"
"Maaan waaas that the tooth fairy?!" a man on the couch said.
"Man, get your high ass back to sleep!"
As the group walked out of the dorm building and onto the open ground below, Steve realized the situation was even bigger than he had imagined.
The area beneath the usually quiet dormitory building had been cleared.
Several off-road vehicles and troop carriers bearing white military license plates were parked under the streetlights. The red and blue flashing lights were off, but the solemn silence was even more suffocating.
Further away, at the school gate, a blockade line was faintly visible, already set up.
The entire Howard University was under military control tonight.
And all of this was merely to pick up one person.
Before Tyler and the others could recover from their shock, several serious-looking military officers walked into the dorm room.
"Students, there is no need to be nervous."
Although he said this, the officer's stern face showed no sign of relaxation.
Randy did not immediately get into the car. Instead, he looked back at the three trembling students and quietly gave an instruction to the adjutant beside him.
Then, he spoke to Steve's roommates.
"Our operation tonight is classified as Top National Secret. We are here because we require Steve Stevenson's assistance with a matter of great importance."
After speaking, several soldiers quickly stepped forward, holding several documents stamped with a red five-pointed star.
"Please cooperate by temporarily handing over all electronic products. We need to conduct a technical review to ensure no information leaks. Furthermore, this is a Top National Security Confidentiality Agreement; please sign it."
"Let what happened today rot in your stomachs. You must not mention a single word of it to anyone, including your parents. Otherwise, you will be prosecuted for treason."
"Tre... Treason?"
Tyler tremblingly took the pen.
As he signed, he secretly glanced downstairs.
Through the window, he saw Steve—the guy he usually ate and played games with—being personally ushered into a special armored car by General Randy, who held the car door open for him.
Suddenly, Tyler seemed to remember something. He sharply inhaled, grabbed his roommate's arm, and his voice trembled.
"Holy, holy crap, I remember now! That General Randy George saw him in last year's military parade broadcast! He's the Chief of Staff!"
"What major thing has Steven³ been doing behind our backs?"
The three roommates exchanged glances, watching the motorcade slowly drive away outside the window, feeling that the night wind tonight was exceptionally cold.
The black armored car drove smoothly through the night.
The atmosphere inside the car was quiet and somewhat oppressive. A soundproof panel had been raised between the front and back seats, and besides the faint hum of the engine, there was no other noise.