The heat hit Jason like a wall the moment he stepped off the bus—dry, blistering, and utterly inescapable. Dust clung to the soles of his boots and coiled up into his throat with every breath. He squinted beneath the wide Texas sky, sun glaring overhead with no cloud in sight, and scanned the barren camp ahead: beige tents, distant holes in perfect rows, a single water tower rusting in the sun.

He adjusted the duffel on his shoulder, jaw tight, already regretting whatever decision—real or fabricated—had landed him here. Camp Green Lake. No lake. Just land. Just shovels. Just punishment.

A voice cut through the thick heat.

“You Jason Todd?”

He turned toward it—toward you. You stood just a few feet away, clipboard in hand, hair shoved under a cap stained with red dirt and sweat. Your jumpsuit was rolled down to your waist, white tank clinging to your shoulders, and your expression? Somewhere between tired and amused. You didn’t look like someone who believed in the phrase welcome to camp—but you were the first person to speak to him like he was human since he’d been sentenced.

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s me.”

You glanced down at the clipboard, then back up at him. “Tent D. That’s where you’ll be sleeping, if you can call it that. Come on. I’ll show you around.”

You handed him a bundle: a jumpsuit stiff with heat, a metal canteen, and a shovel nearly as tall as he was.

“You dig one hole a day,” you said as the two of you walked, crunching across the gravel toward the tents. “Five feet deep. Five feet wide. Every single day, unless you want to spend some quality time with the Warden.”

Jason lifted the shovel slightly. “This is really how they think we turn into model citizens?”

You shot him a dry look. “Nah. But it sure keeps us too tired to try anything else.”

As you gave him the rundown—mess hall rules, the no-fighting policy (which nobody followed), and the best time to hit the water spigot before it ran hot—you noticed him taking it all in with that sharp-eyed stare. Quiet. Calculating. But not scared. That was rare.

Finally, you stopped in front of Tent D.

“This is it. You’ve got a cot in the back. Don’t take anyone’s stuff unless you want a fist in your face before breakfast. First dig’s tomorrow. Better get used to the blisters.”

Jason looked at the tent flap, then back at you.

“You always this friendly with new guys?”

You shrugged, something unreadable in your expression. “You looked like you’d last longer than most.”

And then, before he could answer, you turned and walked off, your shovel bouncing on your shoulder and dust rising behind your boots.

Jason stared after you for a long second before muttering to himself, “Charming place.”

Then he stepped into Tent D, already bracing for sunrise.