Adjusting my tie tightly around my neck, I look at my faint reflection in the window. My uniform looks to be in order but upon further inspection of my hair has a nasty cowlick sticking off the left side of my head like a sore thumb. While Richter were officially part of the military, we were allowed a certain capacity of personal styling when it came to hair. Even so, it had to look tidy. Licking my hand, I brush it across the monstrosity of brown hair, pushing it down to no avail.
Sighing, I accept my defeat. It was my day today, I could let go of this minor thing. Passing by a group of fellow trainees looking at the end of the year test results I can't help but admire the big bold numbers giving value to my simple statistics. Surely this guaranteed me at least a trial into the Special Duties Unit. Drifting back in to reality I notice them begining to stare at me and spread whispers as I linger, so I awkwardly wave and march off.
The complexity yet dull brown color of the hallways somehow always struck me as amazing somehow. My boots sung happily as we walked together, the echo ringing off into the empty classes and hallway until I eventually found myself planted outside of the academy directors' office. The wooden floor outside was always polished to a gleam and the big bold lettering on the faintly visible window screamed of importance. "Col. Holland, Academy Director"
Preparing myself for my meeting with the Colonel I pat myself down quickly before tapping on the thin glass. After a moment I hear his voice call to me simply, "Enter." and I turn the doorknob, entering and closing it behind me.
The colonel was a stout middle aged man with a spruce mustache and greying hair fancying the company of vintage cigars. Despite his appearance he is in fact is a seasoned combat veteran and currently in charge of preparing young minds such as mine. Rocking back and forth in his swivel chair he greets me rather warmly.
"Aha, Strosse! I've been expecting you lad! Come on in, sit!" Taking up his offer I take up the chair opposite of his desk. It's a wooden design with arm rests and a thin layer of leather offering little comfort, but I suck it up.
"Good evening, Sir. Thank you very much." I reply to him as I settle in, or at least pretend to. Opening a box of cigars he looks at me skeptically before proceeding, "May I offer you something to smoke? perhaps a brandy? This is a special occasion for you, no?"
Shaking my hand I answer him, "No thank you, Colonel I don't smoke. I also haven't touched the bottle in four years. It still seems like an accomplishment." I smile.
Nodding his head he apologizes, taking a cigar out of the box and lighting it before closing it. I wasn't bothered by smoking, it was just something I never caught on to myself. Liquor did terrible things to men, especially angry ones.
Opening a desk drawer he pulls out two dossiers, the one on top reads my name in bold. "Alek Strosse"
"Now...let's see here..." Colonel Holland comments before putting on a pair of glasses and flipping it open, "Alek Strosse, age twenty five...Gewehr-class...rank, Corporal." pausing a moment he looks up from the file to look at me before gazing back down, "Says here you applied to get in to the Special Duties Unit?"
"That's correct, Sir." I say proudly, "I've trained my entire time here preparing for the trials."
Setting the file down he looks carefully at me before sighing, "Corporal, we both know that your scores are far beyond expectations, but I won't avoid the point of bringing you here."
"What do you mean, Colonel?" I ask nervously, wondering what he meant by it.
"You're being barred from advancing any further in division." He says clearly. Hearing it I had hoped I had heard wrong.
