Veil of the forsaken.

"L.E.A.D.S 2"

I.D.D. L.E.A.D.S: The Beginning

The meeting room was bare—just cold metal chairs, a steel table marred with scratches from past generations, and the weight of unspoken expectations pressing down on the recruits like a vice. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant and old steel, a scent that promised both survival and suffering.

Nine figures sat in a perfect line, no weapons, no insignia—just their names and the weight of the trial behind them. They were no longer recruits, not yet L.E.A.D.S. Just bodies sitting before judgment.

At the head of the room, four shadows loomed. Matthew, arms crossed over his broad chest, eyes like a storm that never broke. Art, impassive, his fingers drumming against the table in a rhythm only he understood. Dorothea, her sharp gaze cutting through them like a scalpel, her pristine uniform the only thing more intimidating than her silence. And Mai-Lee—who, unlike the others, leaned back with a knowing smirk, as if she had seen this all before, as if she knew exactly which of them would break first.

No one spoke.

Joseph, the unknown figure, was the only one who seemed completely unaffected. He sat perfectly still, back straight, eyes hooded beneath the dim light. The others weren't as composed.

Veil, second from the right, was slouched against the chair like she belonged there, though her fingers twitched against her thigh in barely contained restlessness. Lady sat beside her, spine like steel, eyes forward. If she was nervous, she gave nothing away.

Riggie adjusted her glasses, glancing at her notes even though there was nothing to review. Habit, maybe. Or a way to keep her hands from shaking.

Sei-do sat rigid, blood-red eyes fixed on Mai-Lee like she was reading her, searching for something unspoken. Juno, more reserved, barely made a sound, but her sharp gaze swept across the room like she was already planning ten steps ahead.

Arlos, the only warmth in the room, smiled faintly, his hands folded neatly in his lap. If he felt the tension, he didn't show it.

And then there was Saev, whose presence alone felt like an unspoken challenge.

Matthew finally broke the silence. His voice, deep and edged with something unreadable, cut through the room like a blade.

"You think making it through the trials means you belong here?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "You survived. Congratulations. But surviving ain't leading. And leading means knowing when to watch people die. When to let them."

His gaze lingered on each of them in turn.

"Tell me," Dorothea finally spoke, her voice laced with cold precision. "Which of you are ready to do that?"

Silence.

Veil's lip curled slightly, but she didn't answer. Lady didn't even blink. Riggie swallowed, but didn't look away. Sei-do's fingers twitched. Arlos, for the first time, frowned.

Joseph smiled.

Mai-Lee chuckled from her seat at the front. "Oh, I like this batch," she murmured.

Dorothea didn't. "Get up," she ordered.

They stood.

"Line up."

They did.

Art leaned forward. 

"Welcome to hell."

The room wasn't as suffocating now. The recruits were gone. The trials were over. They weren't just bodies sitting before judgment anymore. They were L.E.A.D.S.