They were halfway down the hallway when Maya's voice stopped them.
"Wait," she said, plain and sharp, and everyone froze mid-step. It was the kind of single word that carried more meaning than a paragraph. They turned back as one body, shoes scuffing the floor, breaths pulling together after the fight.
The air felt cooler in the leader's room now that the heavy fight dust had settled. Lights hummed overhead. The desk sat where it had always sat, except now it was an object with a new history.
"Didn't you know?" Maya went on, face serious. "The winning crew takes members from the losing crew. It's always been that way."
Ryan blinked, then let a slow smile creep over his face that felt more tired than amused. "Oh. Is that how it goes?"
Daniel, never one to miss a chance for drama, smacked his palm into the other like he was sealing a pact. "Ah, yeah. You're right, Maya." He puffed up with mock solemnity and then added, voice bright, "Now we pick the ones we want."
