After the lap around the perimeter fencing, the sun began to set, and after a quick shower the boys were ushered into the messhall for their first meal since they arrived at the Camp. The messhall was a large open room, smack dab in the center of the main building. All four recruit platoons were in the messhall, each grouped in their own long table. The din of voices overlapping each other and the laughter of the recruits sang out through the room. Buddy filed into line with the other recruits, grabbing one of the non-descript trays from the rack with doubt about how good the rations were going to taste. He heard the rumors back home, that they were rancid. You could imagine how 'thrilled' he was when the mess sergeant plopped a plastic sealed container on his tray labeled simply: "NEW CALIFORNIA REPUBLIC ISSUE RATION".

How informative.

He stared at it, raising an eyebrow as he shifted out of line after grabbing a bottle of water as well, taking a spot at the table with 'ALPHA' carved deep into the wood. His platoon mates immediately followed suit, and before he could blink Buddy was surrounded by a swarm of his comrades, who wasted no time in starting conversations with each other, and with him; Something that he was immediately out of his element in. So many people that were suddenly taking notice of him at the same time - It made him feel nervous and a bit intoxicated by pride at the same time.

"So uhh.. Platoon Leader, Hunters. You got a name bro?" piped up a blonde kid that sat across from him. Buddy hesitated for a moment, pulling open the ration container as he did. It felt like all eyes were on him suddenly, as the other recruits around him stopped talking for a moment to simply hear his name.

"It's uh, Buddy, actually.." he remarked in a calm, even tone as he uphended the plastic container, in the process dumping out it's contents. He sifted through them briefly, seperating them by pushing the packages out with his hand. It looked like a lean cut of preserved brahmin meat that'd been dehydrated for long shelf life. Wonderful.

Along side it was a small can with preserved, presliced banana yucca, which brought back a few sorrowful memories from Buddy's past. He picked up a small white plastic pad, reading it's label as his fellow recruits continued the conversation with him.

"Well Buddy.. I'm Locke, and this is my friend Jaz, we enlisted together." He guestured to his left, Buddy looking up for the first time noticed there was a female in the platoon. He'd half forgotten that he might have a female platoon mate, which was a pleasant surprise. He wondered how he managed to miss her on the obstacle course. Must have been in the other line.

She was a heavily tanned, cute looking girl with short black hair in the mandatory pony tail for recruits with hair near shoulder length. "Hi." she said rather briefly with a slight smile. It was easy to pick up that she had 'interest' in Buddy, for his more social platoon mates, who immediately grinned, obviously expecting their Platoon Leader to be the iconic 'Ladies man' already.

Buddy however, was nowhere near this expectation. Far from it, he didn't even bat an eyelash at how she was smiling at him. In his thick skull, she was being polite and friendly. He looked back down at the white pad which apparently was a heating tablet. He twisted it sharply, something popping within the pad as he set it under the cut of meat.

"Uhh.. Good to meet you, Jaz?..." He said, pausing to pull the tab back to pull the top off of the canned yucca. "So where are you and Jaz from then?"

"Oh well, we're actually from the Boneyard.. It was a pretty big city.. A little different coming out here in the middle of the desert." Locke piped up as he focused on his food himself. "So what about you? Where are you from, Bud?"

Buddy went to pull the heating tab out from under his brahmin and immediately recoiled, wincing. "Ah!" He quietly exclaimed, waving his fingers through the air for a moment from how hot the little pad got so quickly. He picked up his fork, pushing it away with it instead. "Oh.. Nevada.." He said indifferently.

His platoon mates immediately reacted to this with enthusiasm.

"Nevada? Did you see Vegas?"

"What was it like? Did you ever see a death claw?"

"Are the Legion really just across the river from there?"

He was flooded with questions and immediately regretted ever mentioning it. He took a bite of the brahmin, chewing it for a moment as he thought about what to say, before swallowing it down and sighing.

"Moved away when I was four.. It's just a desert." He said in a monotone voice that really told nothing about how he felt about his childhood state. His response stilled his platoon mates' excitement once again. They thought they were beginning to understand that Buddy was pretty single-geared. Devlin noticed that Buddy hadn't smiled once since they met... It was, odd, to say the least.

His platoon mates seemed a bit hesitant now. The person they'd worked Buddy up to be in their heads from earlier's obstacle course was nothing similar to the real Buddy, which was in some ways dissappointing for them. There weren't any doubts about him yet though, which for the next few days, would probably work to his advantage.

It was awkwardly silent for a few moments, as if they couldn't think of anything to say, or they were waiting for Buddy to start a topic of conversation, and for a bit neither happened before Devlin piped up.

"So uhh.. What you did to Davidson, where'd you learn to do that?" He inquired with a small laugh.

"Yeah that was badass man! Can't believe Oliver had your back on that!" Locke said enthusiastically.

Buddy shrugged, picking at his Brahmin a bit more, but when he looked up, he noticed out of the corner of his eye someone staring at him from the far end of the table. He turned his head slightly to meet a cold, vengeful gaze of a humiliated Davidson. Buddy wondered at first how the hell he got released from the med-bay, but quickly shut that thought down, simply because now that he was, it ceased to be relevant.

He maintained eye contact with Davidson calmly, fearlessly. "I got into a lot of fights growing up.." He said without taking his eyes away. Locke, Jaz and Devlin picked up on his stare, following it to see Davidson.

"I think he's still sore, Bud.." Locke said nervously. "Maybe you should just leave it alone?..."

Jaz looked at him with a worried expression, but Buddy was once again oblivious, glancing down to take another bite of his meat, breaking eye contact with the angry bully simply because he could. He controlled the entire situation, from his perspective - Because he was calm, and Davidson was not. If they were to clash again, it would be Davidson that would come to him, not the other way around.

"Pssh, let him be sore about it! I bet Buddy could kick his ass all over again!" Exclaimed Devlin loudly with a grin. Too loudly, in fact, as Davidson almost was simmering now. Buddy sighed, not responding.

"I don't know... I think he's just a jerk.." Jaz said quietly, shaking her head in disapproval.

Buddy rubbed his eyes with his forefinger and thumb. "It's irrelevant. I'm here to become a ra-..." He began, stopping before correcting himself.

"Trooper, not to get in fights with Davidson, of all people." He scoffed tiredly. Devlin grinned.

"You're going to try for Ranger?" Jaz asked excitedly. "I bet you'll do great!"

Buddy sighed again, letting his fork drop to his tray, apparently done eating as he carried it over to the trash and scraped it off, setting it down on the rack and leaving the messhall. His three new friends watched in bewilderment.

"Was it something I said?.." Jaz said worriedly.

Apparently after meal break they had one hour of free time before lights out. Buddy was already exausted from the day's events, and an hour to do absolutely nothing was burning him with irritance. He sat on his foot locker with a sigh, a rag in his hands and some oil as he took to shining his boots quietly, leaving himself to his own thoughts in solitude. He looked up, after not hearing the usual chatter of the other recruits. He was the only one in the bunkhouse. Didn't worry him though. The other recruits were most likely messing around outside or something else. As he looked back down to continue shining his boots, he heard the door swing open, and looked up again. It was the Drill Sergeant and his two assistants. Oliver stopped as he glanced at him with surprise, but shrugged. He muttered something to his two assistants, who began going around the room and checking footlockers. Oliver however, strolled over slowly, his boots clicking on the tile with his steps.

"What're you doing inside, Hunters? You know this is the only freetime you'll be getting tonight?" Oliver inquired in a normal voice for once - merely talking to the boy instead of barking commands, which surprised Buddy, who looked up at him.

"Shining my boots, sir." He stated rather flatly, pulling a sigh from Oliver.

"I can see that. But why? You know you've got other responsibilities now?" Oliver inquired, putting his hands on his knees to be level with the boy.

Buddy looked puzzled. "What do you mean by that?"

Oliver sighed. "Being a Platoon leader is more than excelling at tasks and all of this other bullshit we have you do. It's not nearly as important as making yourself someone that you can be proud to be, and others can be proud to follow."

Buddy blinked slightly, before scratching the back of his head nervously. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean to be a great leader, you have to make changes to yourself, and not try to change others."

"But I-" Buddy began, before Oliver interjected. "Boy, you may not know what the hell I'm talking about right now but you remember it for when you need to. Now, let me ask you this: Would you rather follow a by-the-books platoon leader who has the outward personality of cardboard, or someone who isn't afraid make friends with his own shadow?"

This hit Buddy like a ton of bricks, leading himself to quickly reevaluate who he was. Was he really afraid of making friends? Is that how his Platoon mates were seeing him right now?

"Now, I can see there's something wrong with you, boy. Not something that's your fault, but something that's in your way of being who I think you could and still can be." Oliver continued, hitting the nail on the head with a sledgehammer as he continued to drive it home.

"But listen to me when I say this. It's a damn obstacle, nothing more. You can choose to let that obstacle sit in your way your whole goddamn life and not even wonder how to get around it, but that's a choice for yourself to make. You could also choose to say "Fuck this" and do whatever it takes to go under and over it and damn everything else that tries to stop you. That's what being a trooper is about, son."

Buddy's mind was drawing a blank at first. His Drill Sergeant seemed to be the first person to ever understand him, and the first person to slap him in the face with the facts about why he was miserable. He was choosing to be. Buddy didn't know quite how to respond to the Drill Sergeant, because he wanted to hug him, and he was one-hundred percent positive that wouldn't be appropriate. He looked up to make eye contact with Oliver.

"Thank you." Was all he said. But tunes of genuine gratitude were clear. Oliver nodded slightly. "Get yourself together recruit, and start fighting it." He said, turning as he exited the bunkhouse, his two assistants coming with him.

All Buddy could think, was that Oliver was a goddamn excellent drill sergeant.