The bugle blared. The barracks shook. Michelle groaned, dragging a pillow over her head. “This is a cruel punishment… “

Aya yanked the pillow away. “Get up, Cipher. In war, 0500 is sleeping in.”

Talia rolled over, hair sticking up like a haystack. “Yeah? Then I vote we skip war.”

Trella was already in uniform, boots tied, bed made with military precision. She just crossed her arms, expression somewhere between captain and disappointed big sister. “Formation in five!”

Outside, the dawn was gray and cold. The soldiers jogged in a big group, and the Fangs slotted in seamlessly. Trella quietly directed Michelle and Talia into the middle of the formation. The girls tightened around them like a pack, masking them in the flow.

Aya and Amelie ran like engines, deliberately pushing pace; Katya stayed calm and even, dragging a poor soldier in her slipstream. Michelle was red-faced but refused to stop. Liza jogged backward in front of her, heckling her like a tiny gremlin. “Come on, Cipher! Even old Colonel Briggs could lap you!”

“Shut… up… Ivy…”

By the end, both Michelle and Talia were gasping, but upright.

Trays clattered. The soldiers sat hunched, sweat still dripping. The Fangs moved through the line like it was a hotel buffet. Michelle collapsed onto a bench, stabbing at her eggs like they were an enemy. Talia downed orange juice like she’d just crossed the desert. A table of soldiers whispered nearby.

“Did you see that little one run? It looked like she was floating.”

“They’re not even breathing hard… and the one with white hair is still smirking.”

“What the hell?”

Trella’s ear twitched, but she didn’t turn. Just buttered her toast like nothing had been said. Aya grinned at them across the hall, teeth sharp as a wolf’s. The soldiers quickly found something very interesting on their trays. The two privates from last night slipped into the hall late, still looking like their souls hadn’t fully rebooted from the crate incident. One whispered to the other “That white-haired one… she carried two crates. Two. Each heavier than my ex-girlfriend.”

“Don’t talk about it...”

Aya, sitting just close enough to hear, leaned her chin into her hand and purred “Morning, boys. Sleep well?”

They both stiffened. “…Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t call her ma’am, she’s like twelve—”

“—and stronger than you. Eat your eggs!”

Liza added cheerfully. “You should’ve seen them carry crates yesterday. Olympic-level comedy. Should’ve asked me to help, I could’ve done it with one hand.”

The table of soldiers snorted. One coughed coffee through his nose. The privates’ faces went crimson. Trella finally spoke, calm but cutting. “Relax. Nobody’s judging you for being weaker. Just… slower.”

”And louder.” Aya added.

The whole Fang table chuckled. Then Amelie said with a deadpan “And smellier.” 

That set off another round of laughter, even Michelle choking on her juice. The privates were utterly defeated.

The soldiers stood in clean formation, boots lined up like an iron wall. Colonel Briggs paced in front of them, voice booming across the yard. “Alright! Today you’re going to sweat, bleed, and wish you stayed in your mama’s arms. We’ve got obstacle courses, live-fire runs, and endurance drills. And you’re going to do it alongside… our guests.”

He gestured to the row of Fangs. A ripple of whispers went down the soldiers´ line. Some were curious, some cocky, some still traumatized. Aya grinned like a wolf about to be fed. Trella stood stone-straight, radiating quiet command. 

Briggs snapped “Pair off! One soldier, one Fang. Show me what you’ve got!”

The first challenge was a wall climb. Two soldiers charged, scrambling and swearing. Aya barely jogged to hers, vaulted up and climbed over without touching the rope, landing light as a cat on the other side.

“Wha— how did—”

“Gravity and I… we’re on speaking terms.”

Katya slid through the mud pit with sniper precision, barely disturbing the surface. The soldier beside her faceplanted and came out looking like a swamp monster. Katya didn’t even smirk. “Camouflage complete.”

Endurance run. Briggs watched his soldiers stagger and puff through the laps, while the Fangs — even the smallest like Aiko and Liza — ran in easy rhythm, chatting, teasing each other.

“How… are you… talking?!”

“Breathing exercises. Want me to teach you?”

By the time the horn blew, half the soldiers were collapsed in mud and sweat. The Fangs were standing, fresh as if it were warm-up. Aya even stretched her arms above her head.

“That was fun. When does the real training start?”

The looks on the soldiers’ faces were priceless — a mix of awe, despair, and what-are-these-girls. Colonel Briggs muttered under his breath. ”Holy hell. Never thought I’d see the day.”

The soldiers lined up with their rifles, the familiar routine of safety checks and stance adjustments. The Fangs stood a few meters away, casual, weapons slung like they’d been born with them.

“Alright. Ten rounds, center mass. Standard grouping drill. Show the kids how it’s done!”

The soldiers fired in steady succession. Paper targets flinched under scattered impacts, decent groupings, some strays. Then came the Fangs.

Trella shouldered her shotgun, fired once, and the target stand snapped in half. She calmly set the weapon down. “Guess I don’t need nine more.”

Aya hefted the grenade launcher with a grin. Briggs was about to bark “don’t you dare”— but too late. BOOM. The target dissolved into splinters. “Oops, that was not part of the drill?”

Katya stepped forward, sleek Dragunov in hand. Her first shot punched the bullseye. The next nine didn’t touch the first hole — they passed through it. The Range officer actually lowered his clipboard in awe. Meanwhile, Anya dual-wielded her Uzis, spraying in short controlled bursts. Her target looked like a cheese grater had gone to war with it. Liza, smallest of them all, casually raised her P90. Ten rounds, ten perfect headshots. She blew on the barrel like it was a smoking candle. And Amelie? She brought up the BAR like it weighed nothing, unleashed a suppressive burst that shredded her target and nearly blew the frame off the rails. She turned, grinning through powder-smudged cheeks. “Clear enough?”

Colonel Briggs stood behind the line, stone-faced, though the twitch of his jaw betrayed him.  The soldiers knew better than to laugh. The girls had just turned the range into a horror show of precision and raw power.

The mess hall buzzed in the evening. Trays clattered, soldiers swapped stories, and in the corner the Fangs were gathered tight around two very tired-looking humans.

Michelle slumped over her tray, stabbing half-heartedly at mashed potatoes. “Why does your warm-up feel like a death march?”

Talia snorted into her drink. “Try jogging with thirty pounds of drone equipment up a mountain. Today felt like a vacation.”

Aya flexed theatrically, showing off her pumped arms. “See? Strength is all in the mind.”

“Strength is in my legs being gone. They quit halfway through the run.” Michelle stated.

The table burst into laughter. Even Trella cracked a faint smirk, which was rare.

Katya leaned in. “So what did they make you do after?”

“They put me in a garage the size of a hangar. Engines, drones, spare parts everywhere. I’m supposed to ‘make something useful’ by Friday.”

Aya’s eyes lit up. “Can you make a drone that drops grenades?”

“Yes. No, you can’t have one.”

The girls groaned. Michelle finally perked up, waving her fork. “My day wasn’t terrible. After I survived calisthenics, they gave me tactical exercises. Like how to read terrain, cover, angles of attack, stuff Dad always wouldn’t tell me. And it was actually kinda fun. Don’t tell him I said that.”

Across the hall, a couple of soldiers were very obviously whispering while sneaking glances at the table.

“Man, those kids on the range… still can’t wrap my head around it.”

“Are you kidding? That Russian girl could shoot the freckles off a mosquito. And the tall one that carried the two crates? I checked the manifest, that’s hundred pounds apiece.”

The girls were still chuckling, Michelle nearly choking on her drink when Aya mimed a soldier trying and failing to lift two crates. Even Katya cracked a smile. Then Trella put her fork down. Her voice cut clean through the laughter. “Girls. I’m glad you’re having fun. But remember why we’re here. We came for heavy training, not to make fun of those poor tin soldiers. Tomorrow is the obstacle course and full-gear race. I want all of you to take it seriously and go full power. Don’t mind them.”

The clatter of trays and chatter across the hall stopped. It was so quiet you could hear a needle drop to the floor. Half the soldiers froze mid-bite, staring at the little Mediterranean girl giving orders like she owned the place. The silence stretched until Colonel Briggs himself, passing by with a mug of coffee, gave a grunt. “…Guess I don’t need to give the pep talk, then.”

The soldiers chuckled nervously, but no one dared say a word. Trella calmly picked up her fork again and went back to her food. The mess hall stayed hushed for a good five minutes.

***

Briggs dropped his hand. Trella surged first, boots pounding the dirt. Aya bulldozed through the first barricade like it wasn’t there. Maya kept pace right beside them, vaulting logs with a fluidity that made even the soldiers mutter. Katya cleared the rope wall like a gymnast; Mei-Ling was already on the far side by the time others even grabbed the rope. Amelie waded through the mud pit like it was waist-deep water. Aiko darted ahead, a blur under the barbed wire crawl. 

By the halfway mark, the Fangs weren’t competing with the soldiers anymore. They were competing with themselves, each girl driving harder, syncing breaths, no stragglers. Maya at one point glanced sideways and smirked, pulling ahead of Aya just long enough to remind everyone she wasn’t just the driver. They hit the final wall as one. Ten helmets crested the wood, ten boots thudded down on the far side, no gaps, no delays. Briggs checked his stopwatch. His jaw clenched. 

The mess hall buzzed louder than usual. Trays clattered, boots scraped against concrete floors and conversations dropped to a hush the moment the Fangs filed in. They sat down as one, forming their usual tight cluster. Trella didn’t even wait until everyone had food in their mouths. “Good. That’s what I wanted to see. No more games. You stayed tight, you covered each other, and you kept pace. But… we can do better. We will do better. Understood?”

“Yes, Boss,” they all answered in unison.

A couple soldiers at the next table shifted uncomfortably. One muttered something under his breath, but when Aya glanced over with a wolfish grin, he instantly found his mashed potatoes fascinating.

Meanwhile, Michelle leaned in, wide-eyed. “You won’t believe my morning! Captain Hayes, who has served three tours in Iraq, walked me through MOUT procedures, breaching, room clearing… all of it. The way he explained choke points, fields of fire—I could have listened for hours!

Katya arched her brow. “Spoken like a true little soldier.”

“I’m serious! I was writing everything down. I think I filled ten pages!”

At the other end of the table, Talia dropped her fork with a clatter. “Don’t even get me started. They showed me a slideshow of the new recon drones and comms systems. Just a slideshow. Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes! It’s criminal! I want to touch them, open them up, rebuild them, maybe make them not suck. Instead? Click, next slide, click. Ugh!”

A ripple of laughter passed through the squad. But the rest of the hall wasn’t laughing. Soldiers whispered, exchanged wary looks. This wasn’t just a group of kids anymore, they’d seen them on the course, heard them in the mess. Rumors were already spreading like wildfire. One private nudged another.

“If that was their warm-up…”

“What the hell’s the afternoon gonna look like?”

Briggs´ whistle blew through the hot air.. 

“Eight laps! Full perimeter! That’s five miles in full gear! Move it!”

The soldiers groaned, but obeyed. Packs thudded against their backs, rifles clattered. Dust rose. The Fangs launched forward like a pack of wolves. Not sprinting, but smooth, disciplined, a wall of motion. By the end of the first lap, they’d already carved out a gap. By lap three, the soldiers’ breathing was ragged. Sweat dripped, legs burned. Some were already slowing, packs dragging at their spines. Meanwhile Aya was jogging backward for a stretch, taunting them. “Hey boys, this pace working for ya?”

Maya shoved her shoulder. “Turn around before Briggs has a heart attack.”

Lap four. Halfway. The soldiers looked half-dead. The Fangs looked like they were just warming up. Laps five and six… the whispers started. Then came lap seven. Trella gave the nod. The girls exploded forward. Packs bouncing, rifles rattling, but their formation didn’t break. They accelerated. The soldiers couldn’t even comprehend it. Dust swallowed them as the Fangs overtook the straggler, then the main body, then the leaders.

“Wait—how the hell—weren’t they ahead of us?!”

By the eighth lap, the camp was silent except for the pounding of Fang boots. They crossed the line together, sharp, precise, and then without a single gasp for air dropped their packs in unison. The soldiers staggered in minutes later, collapsing like felled trees.

Colonel Briggs just stared. “If the brass finds out I let my men get lapped by teenagers, I’ll never hear the end of it…”

Trella scanned her squad and gave the tiniest nod. “That’s more like it.”

The day’s heat had faded, leaving the camp wrapped in cool night air. Most of the soldiers were already inside, trying to sleep off the humiliation of the march. The Fang girls, though, weren’t ready for lights out. Aya lay sprawled in the grass just outside the barracks, arms behind her head, staring up at the stars. “Better than fireworks, huh?”

Mei-Ling sat cross-legged beside her, twirling a bit of rope idly between her fingers. “I like the quiet. No orders. No shouting. Just breathing.”

Michelle came out holding two mugs of cocoa she smuggled from the mess hall. She handed one to Trella, who sat a little apart from the group, staring across the dark training grounds. “Here. Don’t say I never take care of you.”

Trella took it, sipping cautiously. “…Too sweet.”

“Exactly. That’s the point.”

They laughed softly, the tension from dinner fading away. Talia wandered out last, laptop tucked under her arm. She didn’t sit, just leaned against the wall, tapping at the screen. “Wi-Fi sucks out here. Guess I actually have to sleep.”

Aya threw a blade of grass at her. “You nerd.”

“And proud of it.”

For a long moment, no one spoke. Just the sound of crickets, the distant hum of generators, and the occasional shuffle of boots inside the barracks. Michelle broke the silence. “Tomorrow’s gonna hurt.” 

Trella smirked faintly. “Good.”

The girls chuckled again, leaning into the night’s calm. For the first time since arriving, they weren’t monsters or experiments. They were just girls sitting under the stars, sipping stolen cocoa and waiting for whatever tomorrow will bring.