After some time, I see a tall woman with brown hair tied back in a bun. Her demeanor exudes confidence and competence. She is wearing a jacket worn over a button-up shirt. Paired with durable trousers and sturdy combat boots.

"Are you Mr. Ivan Petrovich?" The female soldier asked while sizing me up and down.

"Yes ma'am, that's me." 

"Ok, please follow me."

As we moved through the bunker, the place buzzed with activity. In one corner, a group of people worked around a makeshift kitchen, preparing food with whatever supplies they had available. Nearby, men moved back and forth carrying equipment, crates, and basic necessities, each one focused on keeping the shelter running.

Farther ahead, a group of officers paced between cadets while shouting commands that echoed through the bunker, mixing with the clang of weights, the thud of boots, and the strained breaths of young recruits.

In the classrooms, groups of survivors huddled over maps, while studying every detail they could. Their faces were tense but focused, their minds fixed on the mission ahead, where this mission, for all they knew, might be their last.

"Where are we going?" I asked, my eyes darting around in genuine surprise at how organized and structured everything is here.

"I'm taking you to meet the new batch of recruits. You happen to be transmigrated with them here."

"Transmigrated? Wait, who said I'm joining you guys."

"Well, I hope to share your enthusiasm, I really do. But this is the last human stronghold, so you've got no other choice but to join us and be useful."

I was planning on joining them, but knowing that I had no other choice but to leave my fate in their hands left a bad taste in my mouth. After pausing for a second, I said: "Is there anything I should know about, like rules that I should follow, responsibility I should take or anything that might be useful."

"There are 10 rules that everyone follows. If you don't follow them, you receive a strike. Three strikes and you're out, and you'll need to fend for yourself outside."

"First rule: food and water are rationed. Everyone receives an allocated portion to keep distribution fair and prevent shortages. The amount you receive depends on your contribution and how much your work benefits the base."

"Second rule: curfew is enforced after dark. Once night falls, all members must remain within their assigned areas unless they get pre-approval. This helps us keep track of everyone and respond faster in case of emergencies and ambushes. If your mission takes you outside the base, your position will be covered by someone else during the night."

"Third rule: all resources are to be used carefully. Water, fuel, medicine, ammunition, everything is limited. Waste is not tolerated."

"Fourth rule: every member is assigned duties necessary for the bunker's survival. These duties can range from food preparation and maintenance to patrols and defense. You will be allowed to choose from a list of available responsibilities, so don't worry. Not every role puts you directly in danger. Some recruits have never fought an Ossarian in their lives."

"Fifth rule: sanitation is mandatory. Waste must be disposed of properly, and hygiene protocols must be followed to prevent contamination and diseases. It sounds simple, but new recruits often underestimate how important it is."

"Sixth rule: violence inside the bunker is forbidden. Disputes must be settled peacefully. If a fight breaks out, both parties will be punished, with the person who started it receiving double the penalty."

"Seventh rule: communication must go through the proper channels. No rumors, no unauthorized messages, and no spreading information before it has been confirmed. You'll understand more once you're assigned to a group."

"Eighth rule: security protocols are strict. Patrols, perimeter checks, and access control are part of daily life here. The bunker only survives because we know who enters, who leaves, and what moves near our perimeter."

Her expression hardened.

"No one enters without being identified. No one leaves without permission. And if something approaches the base, whether human or Ossarian, we respond before it reaches our walls."

She paused for a moment.

"At some point, you may be assigned to a patrol, a gate watch, or a perimeter inspection. It might sound simple, but one missed check can cost many lives here."

"Ninth rule: drills and training sessions are mandatory. We prepare for breaches, natural disasters, medical emergencies, and anything else that can go wrong." She paused, then added dryly, "And with our luck, things go wrong often."

"Tenth and final rule: the bunker follows a clear leadership hierarchy. Leaders are chosen based on merit, experience, and their ability to make decisions under pressure. Orders from command are to be followed unless they directly endanger the base without reason."

I glanced at her, a bit stunned. No one memorizes rules and regulations. Who would be crazy enough to even try? But then again, we are living in a crazy world after all.

Seeing the look that I'm giving her, she chuckles a little and says: "Well, when you are stuck here for more than 10 years, rules are the least of your worries."

"Wait, you have been stuck here for 10 years?"

"Hahaha, this is nothing, the previous leader was here for more than 50 years before he was killed."

'I've grown numb to these surprises. I know my situation is dire, but I haven't fully grasped till now just how screwed I am.'

We continued to move in silence for some time. Seeing my loss of motivation after learning about my situation, she kept words of encouragement to herself, understanding that nothing she says will change the reality of our predicament. Besides there are many people better than her that specialize only with raising moral and therapy.

We reached a small clearing where I saw 11 people. Some were engaged in conversation, their laughter echoing through the air. Others kept to themselves

"We have arrived." The female soldier looked at the group and said: "This is Ivan Petrovich. He has transmigrated with you apparently." Then she looked at me smiling and said: "Have fun. Gotta go."

After bidding her farewell, I approach the small group with a tentative smile. "Hello, my name is Ivan Petrovich," I said, my voice tinged with uncertainty. "I'm as clueless as you are about this place."

One of the recruits, a cocky grin plastered across his face, scoffs at my introduction. "Well, that's just great," he retorts, his tone dripping with sarcasm. 

Beside him, a young woman shifted uneasily, her eyes darting around the clearing.

Then, from the other side of the group, a cheerful voice cut through the tension.

"Hey, don't worry about it," a grinning recruit said, giving my back a friendly slap. "We'll figure this out together, right?"

A fourth recruit stood apart from the rest, arms crossed over her chest, watching us with cold indifference.

I glanced between them, feeling the weight of the situation settle deeper in my chest.

"This isn't going to end well," I muttered. "That much is obvious."