Fragile (Slow Updates)

Chapter 18: New Reality

Federov squinted, not sure if he was supposed to take it seriously. "Are you gay?" He asked, completely deadpan. "No judgment if you are."

He just stared blankly back at the Russian. "Do I look gay to you, Senior Sergeant?"

"You did, do that scene from Full Metal Jacket, sir." Ivanov chimed trying to remain respectful.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, both the Sous-lieutenant and Lieutenant broke out in cackling laughter, the kind only soldiers who had seen too much could afford.

"See you boys around." He smirked, fist-bumping each of them before heading down the hall. "Try not to cause too much trouble."

Senior Sergeant Volkov watched him go before turning his gaze onto Reed. "You're an ass. You know that?"

Reed just shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "It's the little things in life that get you by."

Full weight of the Legionnaire's boots echoed with each step as he marched to his office. "Harris, why are you still following me?" He shot her a quick glance as she matched his pace beside him.

The Specialist only grinned, flashing her smoking buddy a knowing look. "Just making sure you're ok."

He huffed, his gaze flicking over his shoulder. Behind them, Master Laurent was snickering to himself, amused at the exchange. 'He might be right about that.' The Sous-lieutenant thought, shaking his head

In his officer waiting to greet him was a mountain of paperwork. But before he could process the impending workload, two Kansens were already closing in.

Bellona and Yorktown were on him in an instant, arms wrapped around him in an iron grip. Yorktown's motherly instincts took over as she checked him over, hands brushing against his uniform as if searching for unseen wounds.

"Alright alright you two, I'm still alive. You can stop hugging me." He pried himself free of their iron grip, straightening out his uniform. "Anything new while I was gone?"

"Nothing but paperwork," Yorktown replied before glancing at him with a knowing look. "Oh, and Her Majesty requests to have tea."

A low groan rumbled from his chest as Sous-lieutenant Vogel dragged a hand down his face. "Of course she does."

Bellona's sharp eyes flicked downward, catching sight of his exposed prosthetic leg before shifting to the three French operatives standing behind him. "Sous-Lieutenant... What happened to your leg? And who are they?"

Before he could answer, Yorktown's voice cut in, her phone already in hand. "You certainly draw a lot of attention on Juustagram."

She passed him the device, revealing a post—him, walking across the base, walking with the prosthetic leg on full display, not like he could hide it with the pant's leg being cut open. Uniform having seen better days, the once pristine CCE F3 uniform being worse for wear. Thousand-yard stare locked in place.

The comments flooded the screen in real time, a chaotic mix of concern, curiosity, and unsolicited opinions. Kansens were tagging him relentlessly, asking what had happened, if he needed anything, some even outright offering help. But among them were the inevitable few—the ones who always had something to say. The ones claiming they wouldn't have gotten injured so easily. That they would've handled things differently.

A long, tired sigh escaped him. He didn't even have the energy to be annoyed. "Long story, but the short of it is—shit happens and we live with the consequences." He passed the phone back, shrugging. "As for the scary-looking guys? My security detail."