Novel & Cerita Footmen Wearing Special Uniforms

Only scattered beams of flashlights cut through the black, moving like searching eyes across steel containers and shattered glass. The sound of boots echoed, controlled and coordinated. Whoever had arrived was not improvising. They owned the chaos. Elara felt Aiden’s hand tighten around hers. “Stay close,” he whispered. Her brother leaned heavily against her shoulder, barely steady. Somewhere nearby, men shouted orders in unfamiliar accents. Metal scraped. Weapons clicked into place. The symbol on their uniforms burned into Aiden’s memory.

Their hair is always in a bun style. The men wear a suit or pants with a collared shirt. Others are wearing jackets, and loafers or oxfords. All of their uniforms have La Arma's CountrySpy logo They seem to be too busy to act. "Rain?" Ali called him when he noticed that I was looking around. "I'm s-sorry." "Good day, sir," an elderly woman greeted Ali. It also bends slightly. "Good day," Ali replied without even looking at him until we passed him.

I say to her. “Are you referring to Commander Mortensen? The Shark?” She asks bewildered. Her jaw drops as I nod. “He is so… famous and brave…” Grandma then notices my uniform and frowns. “You say you are a Bearer, why are you dressed like this?” “Bearers are not allowed in the hospital unless they are patients. I borrowed this uniform because I had to see you,” I explain to her. “It was Leopold’s idea, he is waiting for me right outside.”

the man said between huffs and pants. "It must be my daughter! She's finally here!" Carl shouted in excitement. Kieran looked serious. He said, "Let's go. Take him with us too. We're going up there for a look!" "Yes, sir!" Several subordinates hauled Carl out of the room. Outside the casino, everyone was shocked by the hulking troops. Special forces soldiers in civilian clothes were descending from the SUVs parked there. They were not wearing military camo, but they looked very dignified nevertheless.

Almost like a knife going through butter. Today, we got the call to head out to the middle of nowhere. James got the coordinates of where we were going. The special suits we got are universal soldier gear, they are not out yet for regular soldiers to wear. To everyone, they look like regular shirts and combat pants like a regular soldier, but they are not.

They were all discussing the matter, sitting around the bonfire. Both of them looked like a high ranking warrior from their uniforms. They were holding a spade in their hands with a red and blue color of ribbon tied in the middle section of each, showing that they were from different battalions. They turned and walked to us, observing both of us with quiet curiosity, and bowed down a little to their alpha in respect, but their cognitive stare wasn’t satisfied yet.

I slowly walked up the hill to my house, once I got indoors I went straight to my room and grabbed my uniform. After the lycans took over they initiated the rule that all humans must wear a certain uniform, and all wolves can express their individuality. Humans uniform consisted of a long sleeved grey button up, high neck top, and grey pants, on our feet we wore simple black flat shoes. One of my friends in school asked to wear a skirt in stead, and she was placed in iron and paraded through the streets, naked except for a single skirt around her waist. The lycanthrope species are a disgusting and humiliating race.

Yifa's POV As I cautiously approached the motionless wolves to check their condition, a figure emerged from the surrounding woods. He wore a distinctive blue and yellow uniform, catching my attention. Elena and Anita instinctively backed away, their wariness increasing as they observed five more individuals donning the same attire. However, this time, these newcomers carried weapons. From their uniforms, it was apparent that they hailed from the Western kingdom. "Shift!" the commanding figure in front of me uttered assertively.

Every guy looked self-assured and strong. Everybody wore the uniform, with the sweaters and skirts and blazers and trousers in all the acceptable variations: gray, red, plaid, black. The SilverMoon crest marked them all, and they wore the symbol as though they owned it. Confidence radiated from them, and superiority, and disdain. I could feel the heat leaching from me as I stood on the outskirts of the room, shifting from foot to foot. Nobody said hello.

I walk through the hallways with my hands tucked deep in the pockets of my hoodie. The other students shove past me, throwing me disgusted looks and nasty glares. It used to make me want to crawl in a hole and die, but now, I hardly notice it at all. All of the students have special uniforms that are backless to accommodate their wings—well, all except me. If those idiots knew how to put their wings away then they’d be able to have a more diverse wardrobe.