LE SCRAPER

Xiao Tian threw an amused grin at him. Sean too maintained his smile.

"I know what you are thinking, "I don't have a choice in this, so I will just do whatever." All of your siblings call Aya Big Sis, but only you call her by name, and I believe that before you left you also called her Big Sis…Intriguing."

Sean smiled. Ever since that Katya's death 2 years ago he had decided that he no longer wants anything to do with Squad Artemis, because they all blame him for it, and rightfully so. Despite Aya, Frederica and Vasily remaining friendly to him and welcoming him back, he knows they are in the minority. This is why he resigned the moment he recovered from getting his legs blown off and regrown, as he knows, with him around, this proud unit of UNSSD SOC will be forever a house divided against itself, making it doomed to fall.

And most importantly, he cannot forgive himself.

Xiao Tian's sharp gaze softened as though he could see through Sean's carefully maintained facade. "You're carrying a lot more than just the weight of re-enlistment, aren't you?" he said, his tone almost unnervingly calm.

Sean's smile faltered, replaced by a wry smirk. "You psychoanalysing me now, sir? I thought we were sticking to business."

Xiao Tian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Call it what you will, but you're not fooling me, Sean. You think you're doing everyone a favour by keeping your distance—like you're some kind of plague that Squad Artemis needs to avoid. But let me tell you something: running doesn't fix anything. Katya's death isn't your fault."

Sean's eyes darkened, giving off an aura as he started to subconsciously absorb the surrounding Cosmic Energy, matching his emotional state. "Tell that to the others. They didn't exactly throw me a welcome-back party."

"Fair, but Aya did welcome you back," Xiao Tian countered. "Frederica and Vasily too. And me? I didn't object to your reinstatement, did I? Doesn't that tell you something?"

Sean looked away, unable to meet Xiao Tian's piercing gaze. "Yeah, that you're all too forgiving for your own good."

Xiao Tian stood up, pacing slowly. "Forgiveness isn't weakness, Sean. It's understanding. Aya and Frederica were there too. And you think Vasily doesn't know what happened? They still chose to stand by you. Maybe it's time you stand with them."

Sean stood, taking a deep breath. "Fine. I'll go to the damn selection course. But don't think this means I'm buying into your pep talk."

Xiao Tian chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. "I wouldn't expect anything less. But for what it's worth, I think you'll make it back. And when you do? You'll be stronger for it. Alright, you're dismissed. Good luck."

As Sean turned to leave, Xiao Tian called after him, his tone lighter. "Oh, and Sean? Try not to destroy the market there."

Sean snorted, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk. "No promises."

As he walked out, a strange feeling settled over him. It wasn't quite hope, but it was close enough.

(US Marines Camp, Hokkaido, December 2132)

Louis Fletcher breathed in and out, tidying up the tie of his US Marine service uniform, muttering words of encouragement to himself in French. He entered the meeting room, taking a seat on the chair.

Opposite him are a few 3D hologram projectors, which soon projected 3D images of several high-ranking officers of UNSSD.

Louis immediately stood up, giving a proper salute. "Sir! Sergeant Louis Fletcher of the US Marines 2nd Reconnaissance Battalion reporting!"

An officer laughed. "At ease soldier, take a seat."

Louis sat down. The officer began his interview.

"Your superiors and colleagues have good praises for you, you hit all of the minimum requirement for the UNSSD SOC selection course, very impressive for someone that just became a Sergeant, and Inspector Phineas Wang of the Hong Kong police element in the UN police gave you a very positive report in your performance during the factory battle."

Louis humbly thanked the officer, saying that he could not have done it without his fellow UN peacekeepers and Hokkaido Police.

"Your superiors greenlit you to laterally transfer out of the US Marines into UNSSD, but we would like to hear from you personally. Why us?"

Louis answered the question without hesitation. "Because I want to make the world a better place! The national militaries of each country can only do so much. UNSSD is mankind's space force and peacekeeping QRF, where we fight for the glory of mankind."

The officers exchanged glances, some nodding subtly at his enthusiasm. One of them, a senior officer with a stern expression softened by an approving smile, leaned forward. "Your passion is commendable, Sergeant Fletcher. But passion alone isn't enough. The selection course is gruelling. Are you prepared for the possibility of failure?"

Louis didn't waver. "Sir, with respect, I've faced failure before. It's what you do after that defines you. If I fail, I'll learn. And I'll keep trying until I've earned my place."

He subconsciously gripped something in his pocket as he spoke.

(1 hour later)

"You certainly did interest us a lot lad, I mean, we went way overtime," joked an officer.

"The pleasure is mine, sir," replied Louis.

"I guess this means that it's the first time we have a Cajun in the selection course. All the best. We have notified your superiors to give you 3 days off to pack up and leave. Plane tickets to South Africa are already bought for you."

The officers signed out, and the projectors stopped, the lights turning back on in the room. Louis blinked, adjusting his red eyes to the bright light.

He breathed, taking out that thing in his pocket. It's an old crumpled photograph. There are 4 people in the frame, one Lita family – his family, and a human girl. All 4 of them are in fishing gear, ready to go to the seas, their source of livelihood. In the photograph is his teenage self, holding hands with the human girl. They are his motivation to fight for mankind, the thing that permanently altered his life from a NYU engineering student to a US Marine and now, an UNSSD operator.

After all, the only living people in that picture are him and his mother.

He soon returned to his quarters and started to pack his things. He didn't need much. His military gear was already sorted, but there was something about getting everything in order, setting the stage for the next chapter, that made it feel real.

"Hey, Louis! How'd it go?" called out a fellow Marine, his voice filled with genuine curiosity.

Louis turned around; his grin wide. "I'm going!" he said, his tone bubbling with excitement.

"THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!" the Marine yelled, leaping to his feet. "Hey, everyone! Louis is going!"

A chorus of cheers followed as his comrades gathered around. High-fives were exchanged, a fist bump here, a congratulatory clap there. His superior gave him a rare hug, slapping him on the back with pride.

"I knew you had it in you, Louis. You're going to do great!" the superior said with a warm smile.

Louis's heart swelled with gratitude as he looked at all the familiar faces around him. "Thank you, everyone," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so thankful for all of your care over the years. I promise, I won't forget any of you."

The excitement in the room built to a crescendo, and then, Louis had an idea. "Oh! Wait here, I'll grab some beers and whip up some lobster rolls, Cajun style! My treat!"

"Take your time, buddy!" one of the Marines called out, giving him a thumbs-up as he dashed toward the door.

Louis's steps were light, his heart soaring as he ran down the corridor. He couldn't wait to call his mother, to tell her that his dream was finally coming true. He knew he couldn't share the details—after all, it was classified—but just telling her that he had made it, that he was going to be part of something bigger, was all that mattered.

But the moment Louis was out of earshot, the atmosphere shifted. The laughter that echoed from the other side of the hallway wasn't one of celebration—it was sharp and bitter.

"Oh, thank God, he's finally gone!" one of the Marines snickered, barely containing the malice in his voice. "Tell me, sir, how'd you manage to write him up so well for the transfer?"

Another Marine, his voice laced with dark humour, grinned. "That kid's skills as a soldier are as broken as his family. He's a 'scraper' if I've ever seen one. Le Scraper, if you will. HAHA!" 

The term "scraper" is a nickname thrown around by the Marines of elite units like Division Recon to describe someone who barely scraped by in their training—someone who made it in by the skin of their teeth, not necessarily because of outstanding talent, but because they somehow met the minimum requirements. This is a term Louis is not unfamiliar with.

In Louis's case, despite having his fair share of glories, it was no secret he had always been at the bottom, the one who struggled to keep up with the more talented Marines. But his drive had kept him in the game.

His fellow Division Recon Marines didn't see it that way, though. They saw a naïve, overly enthusiastic idealist who dreamed too big. And the worst part? They hated that he kept smiling through it all, as if nothing could ever crush his spirit, and now, even managing to hit the minimum requirement for entering the UNSSD SOC selection.

"I bet he's still holding on to that delusion that he's going to change the world," one Marine spat, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's sad, really. All this talk about 'making the world a better place'—it's just a fantasy. But now, he is someone else's problem."

Their superior chuckled, shaking his head. "Maybe in UNSSD, they'll finally show him that the real world doesn't care about his ideals. They'll tear him apart."