He was sure of himself this time.

He wasn’t concussed or traumatized or even confused. The decision he made was one of complete conscience and certainty. There is no other way, Ethan told himself. He didn’t want another way. He was done being conflicted, doubting his resolve at every turn over the past few months.

Sitting on the bench with one knee against his chin, he looked at the infiltrator barracks surrounding him. The exo suits were parked neatly in the corner, their heads dropped and their shoulders slumped like released puppets. Some had tallies on their chest plates, others had hints of artwork spray-painted on them and his was clean. A blank slate.

Being in the bunker for so long made him miss the outside world. While well ventilated, nothing beat the breeze in the morning, even if it was slightly suffocating at times.

From his bench, he could see the lower level of the base. Agents walked about carrying boxes and machinery. Some marched in rows to training while others sorted through piles of documents.

What did they do when they weren’t killing people? Ethan asked himself.

After all, it’s a military force. Do marines do paperwork?

Interrupting his thoughts, his link lit up and a message popped on the screen. He swiped to unlock it and skimmed through the lengthy message, skipping to the document at the end.

You wanted the bio-weapon schematics? Here they are. Have fun!

Regards, Jim.

Ethan opened the lengthy document and swiped through a collation of footage, images, schematics and target lists. For now, he’d have to play along and help them stop Sigvald’s virus, but the first chance he got to slit that man’s throat, he’d take it. The rest could come later.

The patter of footsteps entered Ethan’s ears. As the footsteps approached, the chatter became audible. Breach and Rico arguing as before while Amber and John softly conversed in the background. They all froze in the doorway on seeing Ethan staring, deep in thought.

The prolonged silence alerted Ethan to the fact that he was still staring at them. It was if he stared at them but did not see them. Shaking his head, he smiled apologetically.

“Are we?”

“No. You aren’t. Just lost in thought,” Ethan said plainly. “Don’t mind me.”

Their chatter resumed, none of which was interesting to Ethan. His thoughts remained on Sarah and Troy… and the restaurant… and the docks. What would he say to them if he needed to go on a mission of sorts in the middle of the night? What happened if he never came back? Would they know he was dead?

He began to brainstorm excuses starting with the most obvious one: ‘I’m working the night shift.’ But then someone needed to know where he was really going so they could verify his story. If he kept using it, Sarah and others would become suspicious.

What would he say if he got injured? He could return with a broken leg, a swollen eye, a fractured rib or maybe a combination of all three. Motorcycle accident? The more he lied, the more he’d have to keep track of. At some point or another, it was going to get out and he didn’t want to imagine the stress he’d get just dealing with everyone’s reactions. Imagine what Steve would do to him if he outed all their secrets to someone.

A gruff growl followed by someone clearing their throat came from a few inches beside him. John sat next to him, his head wandering around. Ethan found it unsettling that John always looked at the person he spoke to with his gray eyes. The giant was particularly observant for a blind man. Perhaps if he didn’t know he was blind, looking at him wouldn’t be as intimidating.

“I assume you are worried about the tough months to come,” John began.

Ethan nodded slightly but quickly realized John couldn’t see his gesture. “Yes,” he responded. “I’ve only done a year of mandatory service and I’ve never been on a battlefield.”

“When each of us started, we hadn’t been on one either, yet we made it. But it was bitter work. You must understand that.”

“This is the only path forward for me,” Ethan said. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

John examined Ethan from top to bottom. What is he looking at? asked Ethan. “You’re a mystery to me, kid. I don’t know why you’d dive headfirst into death. It’s so reckless it’s almost admirable.”

Ethan lifted an eyebrow. “Uh… Thanks?”

John placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. “The last person I knew who chased after vengeance like a dog chasing a tennis ball ended up killing millions. Don’t lose your way like he did.”

Ethan gulped. For the first time, he saw genuine discomfort on John’s face as if Ethan’s presence brought about a painful memory. He wasn’t going to do that. He just wanted to kill one person. That’s it. Then he was done with all this. He’d sit on his chair outside his apartment and watch the sun rise everyday, content with the life he’d lived and then within a few years, die at peace.

John released his tight grip on Ethan’s shoulder and stood up from the bench. “Come. It’s time to meet your trainer.”

Ethan sighed. Surprisingly, he wasn’t nervous or stressed. He was relieved. With the most energy he’d had in a while, he stepped out of the barracks with John and followed him down the stairs. On his way there, he saw the agents sifting through their tablets from one document to the next.

“What do you do when you’re not on missions?” Ethan asked on the way to the training facility.

“We go to work of course,” said John as if that explained everything. “These folks work for Alliance Labs as well as our university. They range from janitors to teaching assistants. Others here are in charge of recon, constantly keeping watch on various areas of concern.”

“So they just look for SEKT 24/7,” Ethan asked.

“No. The Alliance has minor goals. They help out the government from time to time when the police department are out of their depth. The average agent here has the training of a SWAT team, ready for dispatch when called upon. Steve is currently searching for a position for you.”

“For me? Why?”

“Infiltrators in particular are high target individuals on SEKT’s radar. After Steve and Jim’s recent encounter, they’ve been worried about our safety. It’s best if you are within the compounds of the Alliance when you’re not here as well.”

“But Sigvald doesn’t even know I’m here. Why do I need protection?”

“At some point, he will. What then?”

Fair point, thought Ethan.

“The training regiment you will be on will be a special course of four months. Call it a… Crash course. It won’t make you the best, but it will allow you to survive in the field. We need you out there to stop the virus, not in here.”

Ethan nodded, though for a different reason. The virus had taken a backseat to killing Sigvald, but he supposed that the two were linked closely, keeping his conscience at rest.

“Speaking of stopping the virus… We’ve got a replacement cyber-eye coming for you. Courtesy of Breach. They’ll send you the specs in a bit. It should give you your depth of vision back.”

Ethan hadn’t noticed his vision losing depth until a few days ago when he tried grabbing his link too quickly and missed it multiple times. He was getting used to it, but it would take at least a few weeks for him to adjust to his two-dimensional vision.

“With that being said, the training you receive until then will not be combat based. Merely fitness. Once your vision has returned to normal, the real training will begin.”

A means to an end. That’s what this training was. He may hate every moment of it, but it would pay off eventually. He just needed to struggle a little more so he could rest for once.

John approached two glass double doors. On the other side of it, he saw a court the size of a football field. A plane of concrete with several lights shining on it. He opened the door and invited Ethan in.

He stepped into the facility. Above the plane, surrounding it like a stadium, stood a collection of virtual reality cubicles, each with a square multi-directional treadmills where people would train. Ethan assumed the sensors above them in the cubicles were there to inflict environmental conditions on the agents. Extreme levels of cold, heat, drought and rain.

Ethan noticed something resembling air jets on each corner of the concrete plane. He’d seen these before in some advanced training regiments used in the army. They shot out small nanites able to construct obstacles upon command, simulating the perfect environment for training on a large scale.

As the two walked down the steps, approaching the field, a familiar face poked their head outside the entrance opposite to them.

“Well, Ethan. I suppose you’ve already met your trainer. Rico Veratti,” John said with a smug grin on his face. He chuckled and patted Ethan on the shoulder, making him nearly fall flat on his face. “Have fun!”

“Thanks,” Ethan muttered with half a smile.

“Wasn’t talking to you,” John scoffed as he walked away.

I was worried you’d say that. This is going to be a long four months.