A Sentence
Hubert Bone exited the control room, finding himself in a dark corridor. The ground surface was mottled with hexagon-shaped holes, each a centimetre in size, allowing him to gaze below. It was a maze, the paths interlinked to each room in the otherwise three-storey structure.
Each room housed either Ground Controllers or Shifters, the elites of the batch departing from Sector 9. They were all battle-ready, seated with their weapons in hand. None of them spoke a word, unwilling to make pointless chat lest they don't hear the announcements.
They didn't want to distract themselves on the eve of a long, drawn-out battle. Hubert Bone crossed numerous paths, his gaze focused on the rooms that trailed underneath him, inspecting the strength of their batch.
'The quantity is the same but our overall strength is a lot weaker than the batches led by the other Aristocratic Families.'