UNSC Marine Corps training base Ft Johnson planet Hummel.

Drill instructor Gunnery Sergeant Joseph Willy sat in his office as he went over some last minute paper work as he waited for the buses carrying the newjack privates to arrive. He looked at his roster and the circled name: Jones, Vilan K. and sighed heavily. A light knocking on his door frame caused him to look up.

"How's it going gunny?" First Sergeant Peterson said stepping into the office.

"What can I do for you top?" Willy asked getting to his feet. The two marines would never act like this in front of the new recruits but things were a little more relaxed outside of basic training.

"I'm sure you heard about your special recruit," Peterson said.

"The Elite?" Willy asked glancing at the roster. "Yeah I know but why did you give him to me?"

"Because you have a way with problem privates and squaring them away," Peterson explained.

"Gee thanks," Willy said rolling his eyes. "You know I don't really care how he managed to enlist but why. Is he working on his citizenship?"

"The bastard's already a citizen of the UNSC," Peterson said crossing his arms and leaning against the back wall.

"How?" Was all Willy said.

"It seems his father was a marine his mother an Elite," Peterson explained. "They were living on an Elite planet and fled when his father was killed during a Covenant uprising."

"Jesus," Willy said. "His father was a human...then killed by the Covenant if I had to bet that would have something to do with his enlistment. How long has he been in reception?" When new recruits arrive they spend about a week in a reception company taking care of all their paper work, going over the basic customs(marching, cadence, saluting addressing NCOs) and received their first issue to include: uniforms, psychical training uniforms, cold weather gear, wet weather gear, hydration gear, boots, running shoes and hygiene items.

"A month," Peterson explained.

"What?" Willy said surprised. "Then he should have been in Bravo company not Charlie. Why was he there so long?"

"The motherfucker is seven and a half feet tall with massive fucking feet," Peterson explained chuckling a little. "We only had a few uniforms and one size off boots that would fit him they had to order more. The bastard is lucky that his feet are like ours or we couldn't have issued him boots at all. Then medical took two pints of his blood."

"Two whole pints, what the fuck for?" Willy asked.

"If there would be an accident we wouldn't have any blood that could replace any he had lost," Peterson explained.

"One last thing that's been bugging me," Willy said. "How'd he get a security clearance? I mean he could very well be a spy."

"Well they ran a back ground check but he didn't have much of a back ground to go through," Peterson said. "They only gave him a secret clearance and I don't think he will ever get top secret. He'll be stuck as enlisted for his entire career, they won't let him go officer or spec ops either. Now look sharp the buses should be here soon."

"After you top," Willy said placing the iconic brown brimmed hat on his head as he followed the First Sergeant out of the office. He walked out of the barrack and into the company training area or C.T.A. The barrack was two stores with four sleeping bays for each of the company's four platoons, two on the upper level two on the bottom, and four different entrances for each platoon. The C.T.A. was still part of the barrack it was a large square concert pad with a hanger high ceiling and the only closed off side was the wall that the entrances of the sleeping bays were set into. Not far from the C.T.A. was a wide concert path that changed to a steep grade that ran down the hill to the parking lot that four green buses just pulled into. Willy joined the rest of the drill instructors and found the other two for his platoon: Staff Sergeant Espenhover and Staff Sergeant George. Each platoon had three drill instructors so a total of 12 were walking down the path towards the buses.

"You want them?" Espenhover asked Willy.

"No they're all yours," Willy said crossing his arms and stopping near the edge of the C.T.A. "Fourth platoon is the last bus." Willy called after Espenhover as he marched down the path making a bee line for the last bus. By the time he got to it the bus had come to a complete stop and the first private of froth platoon was just starting down the bus's stairs. He wore a new crisp uniform and hugged his overstuffed duffel bag loaded with all of his issue to his chest as he wasn't allowed to wear it on his back. He had just left the stairs and right behind him was another recruit moving down the stairs. The first private had started to walk up the sidewalk heading towards the C.T.A. Sergeant Espenhover smiled inwardly, outwardly he wore a scrawl, just before he pounced.

"OH FUCK NO!" He screamed at the top of his lungs as he shoved the private from behind. He fell over landing on his duffel bag as he struggled to get to his feet Epenhover was on him bent over and screaming in his ear. "THAT'S OK SWEET HEART WE'LL WAIT FOR YOU! FUCKING RUN ASSHOLE! ALL OF YOU FUCKING RUN UP TO THE C.T.A!"

"Yes sir," The Private said getting to his feet and started to run awkwardly caring the heavy bag. The private right behind him not wanting to get yelled at also started to run to catch up with the one that had been shoved. The other drill instructors started to welcome their own platoons as the shouting and heckling started. Espenhover paid them no mind as he walked to the bus's stairs as the fourth private moved slowly down them as he couldn't see them or his feet. Grabbing hold of the duffel bag the private clung to Espenhover pulled him forward that private also fell onto his bag.

"IT SHOULD TAKE YOU TWO FUCKING SECONDS TO MAKE IT DOWN THOSE STAIRS PRIVATE!" Espenhover shouted as he walked up them pushing a private back into the aisle. Now on the bus Espenhover turned to the bus driver and in a normal tone. "Sir I would get off your bus if I was you." The bus driver, a former marine himself, chuckled as he jumped between two privates to get of his bus. More privates fought with their bags trying to get to the stairs and off of the bus.

"YOU ALL HAVE 20 FUCKING SECONDS TO GET OFF MY GOD DAMN BUS!" Espenhover screamed as he pulled a smoke grenade from his pocket. "20 FUCKING SECONDS!" He pulled the pin and let it drop to his feet and kicked it down the aisle. It bounced off of several boots before coming to a rest under a seat near the middle of the bus. The grenade let out a soft pop just before white smoke began to bellow from it quickly filling the air. The sound of coughing started, as the privates pushed against each other trying to get to the stairs and off the bus not being able to see. Many more fell down the stairs and one missed them completely landing hard on his duffel bag.

"I can't breathe!" A recruit called out from near the back of the slowly moving line.

"QUIT YOUR FUCKING BELLY ACHING!" Espenhover screamed at the private. "IT'S JUST FUCKING SMOKE! THE NEXT ONE WILL BE GAS IF YOU ARE NOT OFF MY BUS IN 30 FUCKING SECONDS! 29...28..27...26..." Now the pushing began as the remaining recruits struggled to get off the bus afraid the crazy drill instructor would gas them. Drill Instructor Espenhover had gassed a bus full of privates but after his ass chewing by the first sergeant he wasn't allowed to do it again. The last three private got stuck on the stairs as they all tried to leave at once and were all panicking and wouldn't back up so one could slip by. Espenhover helped them out by planting a booted foot on one of their backs and pushed. The three landed in a heap at the foot of the stairs. Espenhover walked down the stairs slowly as the last of the smoke flowed out the door behind him. The slowest of the privates was just getting to his feet when Espenhover firmly but not hard enough to cause pain planted the bottom of his foot on the recruit's ass knocking him to the ground again.

"GET YOUR ASS IN GEAR AND GET UP THERE PRIVATE!" Espenhover shouted as the recruit tried to get to his feet. As Espenhover watched him get up he saw him. He didn't know how he missed him, he must have gotten off the bus when the smoke had just started and was the thickest. The Elite was easily over seven feet tall and carried his duffel bag easily as he ran effortlessly up the steep incline passing the other recruits. The motherfucker was in shape Espenhover would give him that but becoming physical fit was only half of the point of basic training. Walking up behind a slow moving private Espenhover shoved him from behind before moving along side of him.

"LET'S GO ASSHOLE WE'RE WAITING ON YOU!" Espenhover screamed his mouth inches from his ear spit landing on his check.

"Yes sir," The Private said only being able to increase his speed slightly.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!" Espenhover shouted after the speed change. "THAT IS ALL THE FUCKING FASTER YOU CAN RUN?!"

"No sir," The flustered private said managed to increase to a fast jog. Espenhover pasted the private and walked over to another one who had dropped his duffel bag and was struggling to pick it up.

"YOU NEED SOME HELP PRIVATE?!" Espenhover shouted as the private bent over in a third attempt to pick up the heavy bag. The private physically jumped from being shouted at and drop his bag again.

"Sir no sir," The Private said as he bent down to get it again but Espenhover was quicker reaching down with a muscular arm and picked the bag up one handed by the strap.

"ALLOW ME!" He screamed as the private turned around to face him. The drill instructor then gripped the strap with both hands and started to spin as he held his arms fully extended. On his third time around he let go of the strap the momentum of the spin flinging the bag back down the hill as it landed in the grass. The private looked at Espenhover then at his bag and then back to Espenhover.

"WELL GO FUCKING GET IT PRIVATE!" Drill Instructor George shouted with the aid of a megaphone coming up behind the private causing him to jump again.

"Yes sir," The Private said running after his bag with George in toe.

"LET'S GO PRIAVTE! DOUBLE TIME! DOUBLE TIME!" George screamed the end of the megaphone inches from the flustered recruit's ear. The recruit reached the grass and started to slow his pace as he descended down the grade. "FASTER PRIAVTE FASTER! IF THAT WAS A WOUNDED MARINE OUT THERE IS THIS HOW LONG YOU WOULD FUCKING TAKE!?"

"No sir," The Private said as he picked up his pace. The moment he did, his heel of his right booted foot landed on a patch of wet grass and the mud underneath it. His right leg shot forward moving further down the hill as he landed hard on his ass wiping most of the mud up with the seat of his uniform pants as he slid down the hill. He would've slid all the way down if he didn't run into his duffel bag also resting in mud. He shakily got to his feet the entire back half of him covered in mud as he reached over to pick up his bag. A sharp whistle sounded behind him and he looked back in time to see a tiny puff of smoke coming up out of the grass. His mind was still trying to figure out what his eyes were seeing when the whistle stopped and a heartbeat later there was a deafening bang. The recruit twisted around as he drove back to the ground landing beside his bag his front now covered in mud also. The private got to his feet again patting himself down checking for blood as his ears rang.

"LETS GO SHIT HEELS!" George shouted from the top of the hill. "IT WASN'T A REAL MORTAR FUCKNUTS IF IT WAS YOU'D BE FUCKING DEAD!" The private picked up his bag, also coated in mud and started up the hill. He made it half way up when he slipped and fell on his stomach again almost sliding down the hill again. Feeling tired and degraded the recruit got to his hands and knees and started to crawl up the hill dragging his bag behind him.

"I KNOW YOU CAN MOVE FASTER THEN THAT!" George screamed as he pulled out another mortar simulator and pulled the pin. When he threw it this time it landed to the right of the private and immediately started to whistle. The private scrambled to his feet almost slipping and falling a third time and made it to the top of the hill just as it went off. The recruit fell to the ground again and panted heavily clutching his bag. George didn't give him a chance to rest however as he pressed the megaphone next to his ear.

"DON'T TELL ME YOUR FUCKING TIRED ALREADY!" He screamed. "WE HAVEN'T EVEN STARTED YET! LET'S GO SHIT HEELS YOU'RE THE LAST ONE. HURRY UP WAITING ON YOU!" The private picked himself up and ran the rest of the way to the C.T.A. where the rest of the recruits were formed up by platoon as drill instructors screamed at them. He fell into forth platoon's formation as drill instructors yelled at recruits for anything and everything. As they continued to scream at the privates First Sergeant Peterson walked up to the podium and turned the microphone on.

"Greeting on behalf of the commander of 54th infantry battalion of the 3rd infantry brigade," Peterson said most of the recruits unable to hear him due to the drill instructors. "Over the next 12 weeks you will put through a rigorous training regiment to prepare you for the harsh reality of combat. Thank you for your service and welcome to Charlie company. Drill instructors they are yours." With that Peterson stepped away from the microphone knowing full well just about none of the recruits had heard him clearly.

Drill Instructor Willy marched out in front of forth platoon, his platoon, and immediately spotted the Elite he towered over everyone in the formation as he stood at attention. Next to him stood the recruit covered in mud Drill Instructor George yelling with a megaphone in his left ear as Drill Instructor Espenhover screamed in his right. Willy let them finish before speaking himself.

"Alright privates," Willy said in a even tone much to the surprise of the recruits."On the command of fall out double time it up those stairs and to the forth platoon sleep bay the door on the second floor all the way to the right. Fall out." All the privates took one step back in unison just before they all broke out in to different speeds of jogs and runs as their physical shape dictated. Espenhover and George screaming at them as they ran up the stairs fighting with the other platoons' recruits and their drill instructors to get to the bay. Willy hung back a little as he walked behind everyone slowly making his way to the bay. He saw the first one to make it to the sleeping bay was the Elite. As he walked up the stairs he wondered if he could work past his own dislike and distrust of his kind. He opened the door and walked in placing his hands behind his back as he walked by the privates as the other drill instructors explained 'toe to line' to them.

The sleeping bay was set with bunks lining three of the four walls making a large U with two wall lockers at the end of each bunk, sitting back to back, one for each recruit. A total of 30 bunks so 60 recruits could sleep with one on the top bunk and one on the bottom. Posters lined the wall that no bunks were set against and two short hallways were set into the poster lined wall. There was a large empty space in the middle of the bay and most of it was taken up by a large UNSC marine corps emblem that was boxed off by four thick black lines, this was the only waxed part of the floor. 'Toe to line' was an invisible line that ran just in front of all the wall lockers with the privates evenly spaced along it so when they stood there they were all in line and standing within one arms reach of their bunk and wall locker. The last private had found his spot finally quieting the two drill instructors as Willy moved down the line and his eyes landed on the Elite.

He defiantly looked like an Elite: gray skin, mandibles and all, expect he didn't have the double knees like most of his kind. Instead his legs, although still covered in the gray scaly skin where shaped like a humans, because of this he didn't have the hunched appearance of the others but still looked strange in a marine uniform instead of the traditional Sangheili armor. Gunnery Sergeant Willy wasn't a large man only 5 foot 11 and 190bls and not an ounce of it was fat but he still gave off an intimidating presence as he walked. His uniform had no wrinkles in it what so ever, all the creases were sharp and thin as a razor, his selves were rolled up the exact number of turns stopping just a bit above his elbows(exposing his many tattoos) they were both at exactly the same height and thickness. His boots shone like mirrors and made a steady clicking as he slowly walked down the line looking straight ahead. His brown drill instructor hat sat slightly forward on his head so it caused a shadow over his eyes that made him look always angry.

"Right about now you all are probably having doubts," Willy began speaking loudly and sharply but not yelling. "'What the fuck have I gotten myself in to'. Is the thought echoing around in your empty heads. Well I love to be the bearer of bad news but it's too late now. You should have thought about that before you joined my beloved crops." A private he had just pasted jaw loosen a little bit before he clamped it tight again. The movement was so subtle no one noticed, not even the recruit but Willy did. He turned around and was instantly face to face with the private the brim of his hat touching the recruit's forehead.

"GOT SOMETHING TO SAY DICKBREATH?!" Willy screamed right in his face. It was the first time the recruits had heard him yell and it was the loudest of all the drill instructors by far. "WELL!?"

"Sir I was just thinking that a crops, in a military stand point, means a force of a 100,000," The Private explained his throat suddenly dry. "Technically the UNSC marine corps isn't a crops anymore it's a force."

"Oh," Willy said moving his face back a little. "You're very smart let me guess you're the 09 Sierra?"

"Yes sir," The Private said proudly. 09 Sierra was the ID code giving to officer candidates right after basic training he would be heading to an academy to 'learn how to be a leader'.

"Good for you," Willy said getting face to face with the candidate again. "I DON'T TECHNICALLY CARE! DRILL INSTRUCTOR ESPENHOVER BRING THE PRIZE FOR OUR WINNER!" Espenhover disappeared and soon came back with two 25 pound sand bags taped together and handed them to Willy who took out a marker. "HOLD OUT YOUR FUCKING ARMS!" The private did as instructed and held out his arms and Willy set the sandbags on them.

"ALL RIGHT HOOK!" Willy screamed reading the name of the private's uniform and writing Hook's IQ on the two sandbags. "YOU ARE HEREBY ORDERED TO HAVE THIS ON YOUR PERSON AT ALL TIMES IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?!"

"Sir yes sir," Hook said holding onto the 50 pounds of extra weight.

"YOU ARE TO HAVE IT WITH YOU UNTIL I THINK YOU HAVE LOST A FEW IQ POINTS!" Willy shouting finally backing away from the recruit and starting to walk down the line placing his hands behind his back again. "Alright so I know I've got at least one recruit with some brains lets see if I've got anymore. Anyone score high enough on their enlistment exam to be a pilot?" No one raised their hands. "I see any engineers then?" A few privates raised their hands this time. "That's more like it any wrench turners? Where are my mechanics at, any kind." A large group of privates raised their hands. "Ok where's my fagits? I know there is always one." A private half way down the line from Willy one corner of his mouth went up in the smallest of smirks before he was able to get himself under control. He was sure Willy hadn't seen him for he had his back to him but Willy stopped suddenly and turned on his heel. With fire in his eyes he marched toward the recruit.

"WHAT IS SO GODDAMN FUNNY ASSHOLE?!" Willy demanded squaring up with him.

"Nothing sir," The Private said.

"I KNOW YOU'RE FUCKING LIEING TO ME DECKER!" Willy screamed reading the recruit's name tape.

"Sir I thought what you had said early was funny," Decker explained.

"DID YOU NOW?!" Willy screamed. "NOT FAGGIT...FAGIT! A FIELD ARTILLERY GUNNER IS A FAG AND A FIELD ARTLLERY GUNNER IN TRAINING IS A FAGIT YOU SICK MINDED FUCK! GOT IT!?"

"Sir yes sir," Decker said.

"I guess I'm a fagit then sir," A Private said raising his hand.

"Who said that?" Willy asked instantly clam again.

"Private Thompson sir," The gunner in training said.

"Well good for you," Willy said turning to face Thompson. "NOW SHUT THE FUCK UP! Alright that means the rest of you are infantry, raise your hands high killers." The rest of the recruits raised their hands this was the largest group of privates to include the Elite. "You are all the dumb motherfuckers. Either you were to stupid to score high enough on your exam to be anything more than infantry. Or even worse you did score high enough you just willingly choose infantry you fucking idiots. After your 12 weeks of training here the rest of you will go elsewhere to receive training on your specific job. Expect for you killers after this it's off to the front lines I hope you don't fear combat because you'll see it. Joining the infantry in a time of war... dumb motherfuckers." Willy's stroll had brought him in front of the Elite his bunkmate was the mud covered private the mud dripping off and pooling at his feet. Willy turned to face the Elite and looked up at him. "What's your name killer?"

"Private Vilan Jones sir," Vilan said in a deep voice his claws curled into fists as he stood at attention.

"How tall are you Private Jones?" Willy demanded.

"Seven feet eight inches sir," Vilan said. Although he was much taller than the drill instructor he still felt as if he was being talked down to.

"Holy shit," Willy remarked. "I hope you don't get your head blow off by a sniper. You get a dental exam?"

"Sir yes sir," Vilan said his mandibles parting allowing him to talk. He had an idea where the drill instructor was going.

"What the fuck did they say?" Willy demanded.

"That they had never seen anything like my teeth and didn't really know what to do sir," Vilan explained. Willy didn't say anything but backed away and walked out to the middle of the floor standing on the emblem.

"Alright now that I know some of you," Willy said placing his arms behind his back and started to pace around the highly polished box. "I am Gunnery Sergeant Willy the senior drill instructor of fourth platoon. This is Staff Sergeant George and Staff Sergeant Espenhover your two other drill instructors." The two other drill instructors were walking in front and behind the privates looking for any reason to yell at them.

"Now that we all know each other," Willy said stop pacing. "Over the next week they are going to go over all the official rules of the marine corps and this training company but we here in forth platoon have some very import unofficial rules you will all follow got it?"

"SIR YES SIR!" The recruits shouted in unison.

"Out fucking standing," Willy said starting to pace again. "Rule one: I will not embarrassed my drill instructors in the presence of any other drill instructors, officers or unicorns. Rule two: My drill instructor is always right. Rule three: I will not masturbate in the shower. Any question?"

"Sir what is a unicorn sir?" Hook asked.

"A unicorn is the code word for extremely high ranking officers and NCOs such as colonel and sergeant majors," Willy explained. "They are called unicorns for you hear a lot about them but you hardly ever see them. And when you do it changes your life for you are either going to get an ass chewing or an award. Alright time for the tour. This is the kill zone." Willy said pointing down at the waxed box with the emblem in it. "You are not authorized at anytime to be in my kill zone unless ordered by a drill instructor. And believe me privates you do not want to be in this kill zone." Willy then walked to one of the short hallways.

"Platoon right face," Drill instructor Espenhover ordered. All the recruits turned to the right smartly bring their left foot even with their right after their turn making one loud clicking sound. They recruits were now in a long single file line that started with the recruit that had the first bunk farthest from the doors. "Forward march." Willy then lead them through the bathroom that had 14 sinks facing a mirror that ran the length of the wall. Opposite the sinks were 14 stalls for the recruits to relieve themselves. A little further down the hall was the laundry room where 12 washers and dryers sat. Then finely to the showers where eight shower heads lined each wall so 16 recruits could shower at once but to the recruits' dismay the dividers between them were just hip high(for the average human and a lot of recruits tossed nervous glances at Vilan). Willy lead them back out into the bay and had them go toe to line again.

"Ok now you're about to know your body a lot better now," Willy said. "Time for a shower drill. You all have exactly three minutes to get your duffel bag into your wall lockers and get out PTs to change into, with a towel and soap. Be stripped down with your towel over your right shoulder and soap in your left hand standing toe to line." The recruits hurry to complete their first task as a platoon digging through their bags to get the required items and get undressed. A private had just shut his wall locker and went to stand toe to line with his towel and soap when Willy screamed at him.

"DID I SAY TO WEAR YOU FUCKING UNDERWEAR!?" Willy demanded.

"Sir no sir," The recruit said.

"THEN TAKE IT OFF AND THEN STAND TOE TO LINE JACKASS!" Willy ordered. The recruit did as instructed and threw his underwear into his wall locker as well and went back to the line completely naked now. The other privates saw and heard this and hurry to get completely nude most afraid now. Willy didn't do this because he liked to but to get rid as must awkwardness as possible the first night. These recruits were going to need to come together as a unit and the best was to do that was to humiliate them all equally. Most of the recruits were done standing completely naked at the position of attention none daring to make eye contact. A few still crammed their bags in wall lockers when Willy started to count.

"10...9...8...7...6," Willy said as the last few private slammed their lockers closed and stood toe to line when he had reached two. "You two." Willy pointed at two privates. "Turn on all the showers, I would recommend warm water and be back here in 20 seconds."

"Yes sir," They said and left to complete their task returning with five seconds to spare.

"Platoon right face," Willy ordered. The recruits turned to right their bare feet making a muted thud this time. "Forward march." Willy marched them to the showers and had them form two even lines just outside. "Alright on the whistle eight from this line and eight from this line run in find the first empty stall and you will have 1 minute 30 seconds to soap up and rinse off. On the second whistle run out put the towel around your waist and get toe to line and do nothing else. Is that understood?"

"YES SIR!" The naked recruits shouted above the sound of running water. Willy pressed a whistle up to his lips and blew the sharp sound made worse by the tiled surroundings. The first 16 recruits rushed in and got under the water and washed themselves when the whistle blew again and they rushed out as the next 16 rushed in. It was the most difficult for Hook who still held his sandbags with one hand. It was going fine until the last group when the whistle blew for them to leave they turned off the water and rushed out instead of putting the towel around his waist Decker started to dry himself off.

"DID HE SAY TO DRY OFF ASSWIPE?!" Espenhover demanded screaming in Decker's ear as he dropped his towel from being startled.

"Sir no sir," Decker said.

"THEN WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DO IT PRIVATE?!" Espenhover demanded. Before he could answer however Willy walked into the middle of the kill zone again.

"I GAVE YOU ALL A VERY SIMPLE ORDER AND YOU STILL COULDN'T FOLLOW IT!" Willy shouted as the recruits got toe to line sopping wet. "WHEN YOU DON'T FOLLOW ORDERS IN COMBAT PEOPLE DIE! TO MAKE SURE NONE OF YOU DISOBEY AN ORDER AGAIN I'M GOING TO MAKE SURE YOU NEVER FORGET THIS NIGHT! FRONT LEANING REST POSTION MOVE!" The recruits dropped down to the classic push up position arms fully extended resting on their toes.

"DOWN!" Will ordered. The privates lowered themselves down with their arms careful not to touch their genetalia, only covered by a towel, on the floor. "UP!" The recruits pushed themselves back up by fully extending their arms again. When they did so a recruit's towel fell off and slid to the floor. "DOWN...UP...DOWN...UP...DOWN UP DOWN UP DOWN UP DOWN UPDOWNUPDOWNUPDOWNUPDOWNUPDO WNUPDOWNUPDOWN UP DOWN! HOLD IT! HOOOLLLDD IT!" By now no recruits' towel had stayed on and most barely held themselves off the ground with shaking arms. The only one that wasn't struggling at all was Vilan "HOOOLLLDDD IT!" A recruit's arms gave out and his body slammed onto the floor making a wet smack. "UP! RECOVER!" The recruits got to their feet and to the position of attention.

"You have five minutes to change into PTs and be in your bunks expect the first fire guard shift they'll be in uniform," Willy ordered as water mixed with a light sweat dripped on the floor. "The fire guard is one hour shifts starting with 401 and 402(the first pair of bunks) then 403 and 404. See the pattern?"

"Sir yes sir!" The humiliate, wet and naked recruits shouted. Five minutes later all the recruits were in their bunks(most thinking they had made a horrible mistake in enlisting) expect for 401 and 402 who stood by the desk next to the door. Willy explained how each shift had a different cleaning duty and that he expected the bay to be spotless in the morning."Alright privates get some sleep you're going to need it you have a long day tomorrow." With that all three drill instructors walked out into the night air after turning off the lights.

"They going to meet Bunny tonight?" Espenhover asked Willy.

"No they've been through enough tonight," Willy explained as the three walked. "They'll meet him tomorrow night."