"Shooting sessions. For Finn. Unnecessary." Elias took another chip. "He panicked. It happens. Next time, he'll panic a little less. The time after that, maybe he'll hit his target. Forcing him to shoot at paper targets right now would just remind him he screwed up. We move on."
"We can't just 'move on' from a glaring training deficiency!" Mara exclaimed, her frustration finally erupting. "It's precisely this attitude—"
"This attitude," Elias cut in, setting down his chip, "saved Finn's life today." He looked at the young man. "Finn. When I told you to shoot, you shot. You fucked up, but you shot. You didn't freeze solid. You tried. In this job, trying—even badly—is already 80% of the battle. The other 20% is practice. But practice in the field, not in some training room."
Finn looked up, a timid spark of hope on his face.
"We're not here to hand out gold stars, Captain," Mara said coldly. "We're here to identify flaws in our protocol and fix them. Starting with the decision not to trigger civilian evacuation."
Elias stopped chewing. He set his sandwich down.
"Ah," he said softly. "There it is."
"Article 14 of the Urban Intervention Regulations clearly states that for any Class B rift or higher, the Regulation Authority must be notified and an immediate evacuation perimeter—"
"—would create a monster traffic jam on Main Avenue," Elias finished. "Blocking emergency vehicles. Forcing hundreds of civilians out of solid buildings and straight into the line of fire if the Ravagers decided to take flight, which they do in 30% of cases. The manual doesn't mention that, does it? Because the guys who wrote it never watched a Nemesis dive out of the sky onto a panicked crowd. I have."
He picked up his sandwich again. "Debrief's over. Everyone's got something to work on. Go."
The hunters started to rise, murmuring among themselves, eyes still wide from Elias's words.
"This is NOT over!" Mara's voice cracked like a whip. Everyone froze. "This... this circus is over! We're starting again from the beginning, and we're going to follow PROCEDURE! Sit down! EVERYONE!"
No one moved. All eyes flicked between Mara—red-faced and shaking with anger—and Elias, who was now studying a tomato slice sticking out of his sandwich.
"You heard the Vice-Captain," Elias said without looking up. "She wants to play school. Sit down."
Reluctantly, slowly, everyone sat back down.
Mara took a deep breath.
"We're going to... go over the timeline of events," she said, voice strained. "On the board. Together."
She turned to the whiteboard and raised her marker. "Time zero: detection. Can anyone remind me of the exact time?"
Silence.
She turned back. Thirteen closed-off faces stared at her. Even Finn looked away.
Suddenly, a deep, slow voice broke the quiet. Torin's—a giant with a bull neck.
"What's the point?"
Mara blinked. "Excuse me?"
Torin didn't move. His ham-sized arms were crossed over his chest. "The point. Of all this. We know what happened. We get it. Why waste time writing it on a board?"
"To formalize the learning! To create a reference!" Mara exclaimed. "So next time—"
"Next time will be different," Torin rumbled. "The Nemeses will be different. The terrain will be different. The Cap'll tell us what to do in the moment. Like always."
"You can't depend on one man for every decision! That's insane!"
"It works," Torin said simply. "It's worked for three years. Why change it?"
"Because it's not professional! Because if something happens to him, you'll all be lost!"
Elias stopped inspecting his sandwich. He slowly raised his eyes to Torin.
Torin stood. His chair scraped loudly as it pushed back. He was easily six-foot-five and over two hundred and sixty pounds of pure muscle.
"You're saying the Cap's a single point of failure," Torin said, taking a heavy step toward the board. Toward Mara.
"I'm saying any strategy that relies on one individual is inherently fragile."
"You're saying we're shit without him."
"I didn't say that."
"That's what you're implying." Another step. "You've been here a week. You've done one mission. One. And you're gonna lecture us? Tell us how to do our jobs?"
"My job is to ensure this company operates to Association standards," Mara shot back, lifting her chin.
"Your job," Torin growled, now less than six feet from her, "is to do what the Captain says. Like the rest of us. Not make up new rules to justify your paycheck."
"Agent Torin! You are insubordinating a superior officer! Stand down and return to your seat! IMMEDIATELY!"
Torin didn't budge. A nasty smile tugged at his lips. "Or what? You'll write me up on your board?"
He looked down at her. "You think we're toy soldiers? That we follow orders from any bureaucrat with stripes? Here, we follow Mercer. Period. Because he's proven he can bring us home alive. You've proven you can yell and read manuals."
He spat on the floor, near Mara's boots.
"So keep your procedures. And leave us the fuck alone."
Mara opened her mouth, but before she could get a word out, a calm, almost bored voice cut through the tension.
"Torin."
Elias had stood. He'd left his sandwich on the table. He walked over, hands in his pockets, until he stood between the giant and Mara. He wasn't even looking at Torin. He was gazing out the window at the falling night.
"You done?"