Report.

A large mess hall stretches out as everyone makes their way in, all similarly dressed. Simple fatigues, no marks on anything insinuating difference of rank, tier or any sort. The light blue walls are a welcome respite from cold grey stone. Even natural light pouring in through very thin slatted windows, high up on the far wall. Several double-sided benches, facing tables cafeteria-style, fill the majority of the space.

"Are we even recruits? Volunteer drafts? Is that a thing? Like, there aren't many options." Darian questions.

"Drafts, regardless of willingness. I don't imagine everyone was entirely excited about being tested, or by being effectively assigned in the field." Aaron replies. Lining up behind the others forming along a food bar.

The food seems to be mostly fresh produce and various grilled meats. Seemingly utilizing the least shelf stable provisions while they last. Sparse with seasoning however.

"I sure hope this means they're rationing spices and not just a bunch of white people who stored next to none." Darian remarks tasting the food.

"Hahaa!" The line cook laughs heartedly as he serves roasted tomatoes and scrambled eggs on the duo's plates. A chiseled and grizzled middle-aged black man, dressed as everyone else, though wearing a hairnet and a beardnet as he's working the food.

"You got me as head back here, don't worry! I begged Sh- the quartermaster months ago for triple the regular stock. Unfortunately their 'delicate palates' can't handle real food, but that allowed me to store up quite a bit." He remarks, before gesturing for them to move down the line.

"You're our true savior!" Aaron calls.

"Flavor is our savor" the chef jokes back, though his joke lands mixed reactions from those in earshot, unclear whether it's the pun or another reason.

As everyone finds their places to sit, constant shifting inevitably happens as friends or acquaintances prefer their company, people begin their chatter. Though, the general talk is clearly not as jovial as some. Most seem to understand that people respond to stress differently, that doesn't help some with their own processing. No drastic movements or anything occurs, as they utilize what many here expect to be some of their last peaceful moments in times to come. Annoyed glaces are the most severe action taken as an otherwise simple breakfast continues.

The doors into the mess hall open as a soldier ranked as a Private First Class steps in. He clears his throat quickly before announcing.

"I am Private, First Class: Ferrin Case. I will be serving as the general crier and messenger at Merris Base for the foreseeable future." he introduces.

"We have many messages and reports. Please understand that I am merely delivering the announcements and am as ignorant of the broad strokes as most here; please save questions for your designated instructors, as they will be more familiar. Starting off, we have a declaration of the formation of the United Reserve. The U.R. stands as the remains of higher military command and delegates of all remaining nations. All able-bodied individuals have been drafted by their respective nations, and all nations work together in these times to ensure our survival." Private Case delivers, shifting his prepared scripts to the next.

"Secondly, for world news..." Before continuing, the crier pauses, looking over his reportees'  eyes, attempting to read their general state.

"The estimated global death toll from the attacks is currently at 72%." He pauses again, giving his audience time to process the information.

A wave of unease fills the hall as everyone present processes the information. Most dejected, a few openly weeping, but even those tears seem to dry fast after the events they have experienced a few days ago. Some eerily still and placid faces, likely markers of sheer emotional exhaustion.

"72..." Aaron exhausts in his mind.

"7.8 billion plus people, times 72%... more than 5 and a half billion dead, in 2 days." He mumbles out. His eyes fixed on the air around him.

Darian's eyes are locked on Private Case, his own mind racing, but his face showing more anger than anything else.

A few fellow drafts sat nearby hear Aaron's total, to mixed reactions of exasperation and incomprehension.

As the majority of responses quell, Private Case resumes general topics discussing the impact of the attacks. Aaron's attention locked in his mind he only hears muffled clips of the information.

"The mutations first appeared in creatures of shorter life-spans. Currently, U.R. scientists are conducting research, but are working under the assumption that the mutation can occur at any point during gestation; for any species." Case reports, his brow wrinkled in concern.

"This, apparently, includes humans." He clarifies.

Everyone present sits silently, unsure of the severity or consequences that this news may entail. Darian's eyes flick towards Aaron questioningly, only to notice his friends vacant expression. He decides to leave any questions he has, knowing Aaron is not really capable of answering in this state; Aaron's own ignorance aside.

"The extent of such mutations are unknown." Private Case continues.

"There are few reports of viable pregnancies. Of those, many are not expected to deliver for some time yet. The effects that a mutation may have on gestational time is unknown as well, however." His general reports having finished, Private Case steps back towards the door to the mess hall. Opening the door he leads in both the Sergeant and the old soldier from the testing room.

"Announcing placements of testing falls to the headmaster of practice, High-tier Galden Case; and Sergeant, Mid-tier Ben Kayn." The younger Case introduces, falling back behind his father, as the two older men step forward.

"Firstly, I can provide some more information on events that prompted the mutations, and subsequently, the attacks." Headmaster Case announces, nodding towards the Sergeant.

"These mutations are a direct result of an energy experiment. In an attempt to improve upon the generation of power, a few scientists manage to achieve a once thought impossible feat; transformation of any material into energy with no loss. Unknown to them at the time, they managed to reduce the matter down until the very bonds that held the atoms together dissolved and released previously unregistered wavelengths of energy. The containments in place did nothing and this energy managed to pass through the world unhindered by matter. Yet, clearly had some significant effect on biology." The headmasters' explanation seemingly ended, murmurs begin building, annunciating confusion and anger.

"What the hell does this even mean!?" a young man shouts slamming his hands on the table in front of him, his blonde hair disheveled and hanging in front of his eyes.

"You did this to the world!" he continues shouting.

"I apologize for the news. I was not involved in any tests that led to these events. I understand your anger, but there is nothing any of us here can do except try to understand and path our future in order to survive." the headmaster says, answering the provocation with a calm response.

The young man fumes, though he sits back down, trying to temper his reaction.

"I understand everyone here is doing their best to deal with these losses and the terrors that have fallen on us. Hopefully together we may gather the strength necessary in these times." The Sergeant calls out in empathy, his stance much laxer than he seems trained for.

As a measure of composure gathers in the room, the two leading soldiers seem to breath steadily to calm themselves. The headmaster being the first to speak again,

"Our final announcements for the day are the placements for yesterdays testing." he continues.

The two begin announcing names followed by their assigned tier, starting with those of low-tier. The vast majority of people being of the lower tiers, but a few notable names amongst the call mark differing reactions.

"Darian Eeris: Mid-tier" Darian nods his head acceptingly, not really understanding the difference between the tiers or what the tiers even represent other than mindset as explained.

"Beau Holder: Mid-tier" the blonde boy from before eyes dart up hearing his name.

"Private, First Class Ferrin Case: Mid-tier" the older Case announces, nodding back towards his son. Names continue being announced as the results are delivered, the end of the mid-tier results marks a few more notable names.

"Imogen Wallace: High-tier" The Sergeant calls out scanning for a tall, red-headed woman who meets his eyes. Wild red curls twisting in each direction, her gaze cold and tired.

"Gustavo Ericks: High-tier" The headmaster calls out, meeting a young man's gaze. Straight, brown shoulder-length hair falls onto his neck, combed straight back neatly.

"Aaron Maker: High-tier" Aaron's eyes snap up hearing his name called, he looks towards Darian only to follow Darian's eyes to the front, meeting the Sergeant's eyes, a soft nod in response being enough for the soldier to accept the information as delivered.

"That covers everyone present." The headmaster remarks, checking his list again to ensure no names were missed.

"The names of your instructors will be delivered first thing tomorrow morning. For today, please rest." The headmaster offers to the room. Sergeant Kayn and Headmaster Case make their way out as their calls have ended, presumably to proceed with their duties for the day.

 "Hey." Darian calls out calmly, testing Aaron's current state.

"Yeah." Aaron responds, his posture still slackened over as his gaze falls blankly on his friend. "It'll just be time..." He continues before trailing off. "You?"

"Time." Darian responds, agreeing with Aaron's assessment.

"Time only goes so far." A voice marks, grabbing their attention. Standing nearby, Imogen Wallace  casts  an appraising glance over Aaron and Darian. Her tall form casts a silhouette over the proportionately shorter, albeit still average height, of Gustavo Ericks.

"You can call me Gus." He extends a greeting hand to each of them, briefly shaking a firm grip on each. Gus offers his hand to Imogen as well, but retracts the unwanted contact, her crossed arms making that apparent.

"Three High-tiers, so I assume we will be working together." Imogen makes her statement, with no further additions. 

"Right. I hope we can work well." Aaron remarks, clearly not invested in the conversation.

"Same here." Gus adds. Sensing each person needs their time, he decides to pull back and head to his quarters.

Imogen gives a curt nod before following Gus' example.