Welcome to the Marines (Corporate Marines Book 2)
monitor. The room was dark. I felt like I had just blinked and then, BAM! Every light in the room is on and the monitor is playing a cheerful Asian pop tune that is popular everywhere. I hate it.
    Thankfully, I am able to turn it off when I get up and smack the monitor. It’s tough enough to take the abuse. I’m not that tough, though, as I staggered when I was leaping up and smacked my head against the closet door. I’m going to have to reset that to something better if I can figure it out later. Now, I need to get up, get dressed and get ready for the day.
    A concussion and not enough sleep — a great start to the day. I start sorting out what I need and head for the bathrooms.
    After a really great breakfast that everyone else seems to complain about, I head for the classroom with the rest of the people I had met.
    Our vocal blonde appears to have hit it off with the card players and some of our original group as they are already in a clique. She laughs when she sees me and her new friends wince. Blond guy asks first, “Dude, what happened, man?”
    I shrug and feel myself heating up. I hadn’t realized that my head-butting the closet would leave such a visible mark. “When that pop tune came on I leapt up to turn it off and ended up head-butting the closet.”
    Everyone winces and a couple of them chuckle. Vocal blonde, as I was now thinking of her, giggled. Blond guy snorted. “I changed that tune the first day that we got here. You can also change that timer so that the music starts a bit earlier. But the rest of the show at four-thirty is programmed in by the Corporation and, well, none of us want to try to change it, you know?”
    Everyone nods and I went along.
    Great — at least I can change the music to something better, like some Rammstein, or maybe some later death metal?
    We keep moving down the hall and enter the classroom, which is really a lot more like a smaller auditorium from my old school. The difference here is that everything is in much better shape.
    As we finish sitting down, all the lights dim except the lights on the stage. Everyone else is silent, which is strange. I had never been in an auditorium where no one was whispering or giggling.
    Vocal blonde, the loudest of us all, tries to start a conversation with the people around her and they just shush her. She gets the hint.
    A crew of older people walk out onto the stage and move into different positions. There are the university teachers in lab coats who look like they know too much, then there are the tough guys who probably teach gym class and would do all the bullying. There are only three in the last group. I have no clue who or what they are, other than the fact that they look dangerous and scary.
    They move together as a team. It is like they are a synchronized swim team on land. The lead is a woman with a shaved head. The men with her are the same way. The one smaller man has a tattoo running up his neck and onto the back of his head. I can’ really make it out.
    Even though there must be over three hundred of us in the room and a stage full of people, those three draw the eye and they’re who we are all paying attention to. They ignore us and just take a position off to the side with the woman as the point of the triangle.
    The guy who steps up to the microphone looks like your standard messed-up mad scientist. His hair is not combed and he looks grungy. Of course, he has to be in charge.
    He clears his throat and then starts speaking. The microphone is not on so most of us cannot make out what he is saying. Then, one of the female professors goes over to the control box and switches some dials around. There is a quick squeal of feedback and then a voice as loud as thunder comes out, making us all jump.
    The mad scientist starts again. “Good day, everyone. I am Director Smith of the training institute. These are my associated colleagues.” He waves his hand in the air and I guess that he means the other white-coated people.

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