The cage stank of blood and piss.
Jack sat against the bars, arms still bound behind his back, knees up, chin resting on them. His plate carrier pressed uncomfortably into his thighs, but he didn't adjust it. Movement would draw attention. Better to stay still. Invisible.
He watched.
Soldiers passed every few seconds—boots slick with trench mud, sleeves rolled up, eyes sunken. Their gear looked cobbled together. Some had old-style helmets with lopsided emblems. Others wore leather hoods or steel-plated vests that looked like museum pieces.
The command structure was loose.
One woman barked orders and everyone moved. Officer. Probably a captain. Tall. Dark uniform. She moved like someone who'd led men into fire and hadn't blinked.
Jack filed her face away.
Two other uniforms trailed her, one carrying a ledger, the other a strange tablet covered in etched stone glyphs.
Stone. Not electronics.
They don't have circuits, Jack thought. They don't have radios. They don't even have real maps.
It was all being held together with grit and ritual.
He looked up through the cage ceiling—just wire mesh—watching the thick black smoke rise toward a sky that still wasn't quite right. It pulsed between red and dull bronze, like a bad welding flare.
Gunfire popped in the far distance.
Then something heavier. Artillery.
Then—screams.
The kind that didn't stop. Not immediately.
The two guards near his cage looked up, nervous. They gripped their rifles tighter. One muttered something about "ferals" and "shadows."
The older guard spat. "They're probing again. Looking for gaps."
Jack turned his head slightly. "Ferali?"
Both men flinched.
Jack let the silence stretch.
Then one leaned closer, weapon at the ready. "You speak?"
Jack nodded.
"What are you?" the younger one asked.
Jack didn't answer. Just looked past him at the trench walls.
The older one grimaced. "He's not Ferali. Not like the ones we've seen."
"Then what?"
Jack finally met his eyes.
"Marine."
"Marine what?"
"Just Marine."
They didn't understand.
Didn't matter.
A few moments later, the officer returned—the tall woman in black. Her eyes narrowed when she saw him. She motioned to the guards.
"Get him out of the mud. I want him in my bunker in five."
Jack didn't move.
Didn't smile.
Just sat there.
Until someone came to take him upstairs.