As amazing as it is, there’s a disadvantage in watching this—we have no idea where these cameras are positioned. When my turn comes, this preview won’t help me navigate. If anything, it only adds to my anxiety, showing me just how carefully the Enforcers have positioned themselves.
The simulation progresses fast once contact is made. Thane’s team encounters resistance within minutes, exchanging fire with two Enforcers who ambush them from an alleyway.
Calder takes a hit to the shoulder, his body convulsing as the simulation gun delivers its shock. He drops to one knee but recovers with a groan, returning fire with admirable accuracy.
Gage provides cover while Thane circles behind the Enforcers, managing to flank one and rip the orange flag from his back. The ‘killed’ Enforcer raises his hands in surrender and moves off-camera, out of the simulation.
Over the next forty minutes, we watch as Thane’s team advances methodically through the city. They work well together, communicating with hand signals and maintainingdiscipline even when separated. They eliminate twelve of the fifteen Enforcers, losing Gage in the process when he’s ambushed by three opponents.
Finally, they locate what must be the objective—a small metal container hidden in the basement of a building near the center of the city. Calder provides cover while Thane secures the object, and they fight their way back to the entrance, eliminating the final three Enforcers along the way. When they emerge from the city, soaked and mud-splattered but triumphant, Thane raises the container. It’s a plain metal box about the size of two fists, with no obvious opening mechanism. The Syndicate insignia is stamped on its surface—three interlocking hexagons representing the three founding families.
Kellen congratulates them before the eliminated Enforcers return, collecting discarded flags and repositioning them on their uniforms. They disappear back into the city to reset for the next team.
“Why did you kill them all before exiting the training?”
“Leaving enemies behind is lazy,” Thane replies to Kellen without hesitation. “They could regroup and counter-attack. Complete elimination ensures mission success.”
He receives a nod in response, the leader apparently satisfied with this answer before dismissing them to join the observers.
Two more teams cycle through the simulation with similar results. Both employ the same strategy: eliminating all Enforcers before extracting the objective. Both teams insist that total elimination is the only viable strategy.
My eyes remain on the screen, but I listen to the other recruits whisper among themselves, pride evident in their voices. They speak of kill counts and tactics as if discussing a game. As if the people they killed weren’t real, even in simulation. The casual conversation churns my stomach.
“Ashford, Flor, Eston,” Kellen calls out to me, Killian, and Pax. “You’re up.”
My heart sinks. This is the worst day—my bladder is nearly bursting, and I’m paired with two recruits I’ve barely spoken to. Killian is a Remnant who can sense impressions of past events through touch while Pax is a Telepath. Both useful powers, but we have no established teamwork or trust.
As we move toward the start point, I survey my temporary teammates. Killian stands a head taller than me, with a lean build and rigid posture that suggests much training before joining our group. I can just make out piercing blue eyes through his mask’s slit when he assesses me. Pax is shorter, more compact, with a restless energy that manifests in constant small movements—fingers tapping against his thigh, weight shifting from one foot to the other.
The three of us step into the mock city, rain intensifying as I fight the urge to cross my legs against the pressure in my bladder. It’s taunting me.
And there’s absolutely no way for me to relieve myself here—not with cameras everywhere and teammates watching. I’ll just have to endure it.
Before we can advance more than a few meters, I grab Killian’s arm, bringing our small group to a halt in the shadow of the first building.
“Wait,” I hiss, my voice barely audible. “We need a plan.”
Blue eyes narrow. “What do you mean? We do what the others did—find the Enforcers, eliminate them, get the object.”
I shake my head. “Did you watch the previous teams? They all charged in without planning and got their asses kicked before eventually winning through brute force and losses. We can be smarter.”
Pax shifts, glancing around. His discomfort is palpable—whether from the rain, the delay, or something else, I can’t tell. “What did you have in mind?” he asks.
I consider our strengths and limitations. None of us are powerhouses like Gage or precision fighters like Thane. We need strategy over strength.
“We split up,” I suggest. “Cover more ground, find the objective faster. I’ll take north, Pax west, Killian east. Use the upper levels where possible to avoid street level ambushes.”
Killian seems skeptical, but our teammate nods. “Makes sense. What if one of us finds the objective?”
“Secure it if possible, but don’t risk extraction alone. If you’re cornered, defend your position and one of us will come when we can.” I hesitate, cursing a flaw in the plan. “How do we communicate if we’re separated?”
Pax taps his temple. “I can reach about fifty meters. If we stay within range of each other, I can relay messages.”
That’s not far—especially in a city layout—but it’s better than nothing. “Good. Our primary goal is the objective, not eliminating every Enforcer. Let’s move.”
We separate at the first intersection, each aiming for a different direction. As I head north, it dawns on me that this is the first decision I’ve made as a de facto leader since arriving at the training center. It feels strange giving orders to men who would never take them from a woman. But here, behind the mask, they don’t question my authority. Another bitter reminder of the Syndicate’s absurdorder.
The rain, oddly enough, works to my advantage, masking small sounds as I move and reducing visibility. I hug the walls of buildings, checking each corner before proceeding. The urban landscape is disorienting—streets bend at odd angles, debris blocks obvious paths, forcing detours through buildings or side alleys.
