While the Corps carried out its regularly scheduled activities Monday morning, Corps Commander Alyssa Michalke had other plans. With morning formation complete and all cadets off the quad exercising, Michalke donned her boots, strapped on her saber, and told her roommate that she was going to “carry out the plan of the day.” Entering the Quad renovation zone, Michalke descended into the steam tunnels, rumored to be destroyed and excavated by the Commandant himself.
At 6:16 AM, she entered the tunnels alone, only to reappear at 7:10 AM covered in blood, wielding a broken saber, and missing her right spur. When questioned regarding what had happened, she simply replied “I need to get ready for my 8 AM.”
At 9:45 AM, done with her first class and in a set of fresh-pressed Bravos, Michalke finally commented on her morning’s activities, saying “It’s really hard to say what exactly happened down there. Bad Bull was there, just like I thought it would be, but I expected it to be alone. I had it cornered, but just as I was about to slay it, 2% appeared out of nowhere and snapped my sabre in half. My instincts kicked in— I took off one of my spurs and cut its throat, but that’s when things went from bad to worse.”
“Sexism, Racism, and Hazing were there too, and they took me by surprise.” She shook her head. “I just wasn’t prepared to be attacked by three of the largest issues students face all at the same time. Try as I might, I just couldn’t deal with them on my own, but luckily, he came.”
Just when the struggle seemed lost, a mysterious figure whose bowtie shone in the dark like a miraculous beacon came to the cadet’s aide, dispatching the threats with expert precision. “Once an Aggie, always an Aggie,” the figure assured her, before dissolving into the darkness as quickly and silently as it had come, leaving only an untied maroon and white bowtie in its wake.
The Corps Commander rummaged around in her pocket during the interview, eventually pulling out the wrinkled tie, still stained with dirt and blood. “I’d rather not go into detail, but rest assured that Bad Bull is dead,” she quietly concluded.
At press time, Michalke was found spending her time between classes staring at Walton Hill, drawing comparisons between it and a 19th century woodblock print in her possession.