Training

I wake up, having slept for who knows how many hours. The sun could be at its peak, but so could the moon; time is a foreign concept in the haze of waking.

When I had first gotten to my new room I just flopped onto the bed and passed out, so now I take a moment to look around, really absorbing it. There’s a bed, a dresser with a mirror, and I even get my own bathroom. Apparently, most people have to use shared bathrooms, but I’m privileged. It’s a little grey though: the walls are grey, the roof is grey, the bed is grey, the bathroom’s mostly grey. Okay, maybe more than a little grey. Still, I like it—not exactly like I’ve been living the high life lately.

I take my time getting up. My shoulder already feels way better after a full night’s sleep, although it’s not nearly healed. The soreness and stiffness makes every movement a pain. I put back on my sling and head to the bathroom. Sitting on the toilet, I realize I don’t wanna leave. My excitement for bi-tanks and new friends ain’t as strong as my fear of what I stand to lose. I tote danger around, and almost no one is the wiser.

Yet, I must keep moving. All I can do is hope this time will be different, and that Roj will make me stronger.

I finish my business and head towards Team Room 21, the room where I met everyone yesterday. Roj told me that the team rooms are all pretty much built the same, the only difference being their numbers and who uses them. Since ours is Room 21, we’re Team 21; some pretty lame naming if you ask me.

Luckily, my bedroom is a very short walk—two left turns and a dozen yards—to the room, so I don’t get lost. I find only two people there, Roj and Clara.

I greet them with a warm smile. “Mornin’ y’all.”

“Good morning,” responds Clara who smiles back.

“Good—” Wait, is he actually going to give me a greeting? “—you are awake.” Should’ve known better. “We can get to training as soon as you eat. Grab a sandwich from the fridge; they are all labeled with what is included.”

I open the fridge to find many sandwiches. It’s so well organized—the sandwiches are all perfectly stacked and sorted by type. There ain’t much other than sandwiches, though. And by “not much else” I mean a half-empty gallon of milk and some grapes. It does make sense if you think ‘bout it, with a place of this scale the easiest way to get everyone the food they need efficiently while being somewhat tasty would be by making sandwiches. Milk and grapes are decently rare, so they must use their connections to get it sometimes. I grab a sandwich that has ham, cheese, lettuce, and tomato on it and dig in.

“Where’s everyone else, sir?” I ask.

“Training, I hope. Except for Phillip, he is likely still sleeping despite it being two in the afternoon.” Phillip really is quite the character. Roj continues, “I gave everyone a day off because today I will be training you. Clara is here because she is a model team member who decided that we should start discussing new tactics and strategies that include you.” Clara doesn’t smile, but she still glows from being complimented by Roj.

“I suppose it’s strange to be getting a new member all of the sudden, sir.”

Roj denies this. “That is not true. Georgia joined 411 days ago.” That’s certainly precise. “The organization is used to recruiting new members.” Organization? I feel like that’s all they ever refer to this group as.

“I’ve been wondering, what is this organization even called?”

“Doesn’t have a name,” answers Clara.

Roj adds on, “Our goal is to remain a secret to the masses, a name would make the risk of revealing our existence greater.”

“It seems like it would be pretty hard to keep this place a secret anyways with all the activities you have going on.”

Clara answers again, “Sure, to the more powerful and active factions. But the everyman isn’t likely to notice us meddling in affairs. Our members would seem like any old faction members while operating on the surface.”

Roj and Clara seem to have some kind of dynamic to answering questions because he adds on again, “We can only do so much while operating as normal. The fact of the matter is that we are trying to alleviate suspicions.”

“So how did you become a part of this organization anyways?” asks Clara, switching topics. Roj’s eyes seem to say You better not mess this up.

“Well, I was a patient here because of my shoulder. I was lucky enough to get Sergio as my doctor, and through our conversations I guess he saw something in me that made him ask me to join. I liked his beliefs, so I said yes.” Ain’t quite the truth, but close enough. I look at Roj, and to my relief his eyes are back to their usual dutiful seriousness.

“I see, insane that you got chosen by Sergio himself.” I think I may have just gained a newfound respect from her.

As soon as I take my final bite Roj stands up and commands, “It is time to get started.” I immediately stand up, following him. I’m still in the middle of chewing my bite so all I can manage is to wave bye to Clara. She waves back with a bright smile. I feel accepted in that moment; I think me and Clara will be able to get along well. I hope the same goes for Phillip and Georgia. No idea ‘bout Aria, but hopefully I won’t have to experience what I did with Harold again to get through to her.

Roj leads us back to the bi-tanks. As always, he gets straight to the point. “Let us begin your hands-on training.” He gets in one of the bi-tanks, driving it over to this big garage door on the left side of the room. It starts opening as soon as he pulls up. On the other side of the door is a massive room with a track painted around the edge and people using a variety of vehicles in the center’s mostly open space.

Roj drives across the track and gets off the bi-tank. I just stand there, scared that I might get run over if I walk across the track. Looking for me, he turns his head left and right, furrowing his eyebrows, and then looks back, now with one eyebrow raised. After a second he realizes what’s up and his face relaxes, seemingly saying, “Ahh, I see,” but I can only guess with that man.

He yells over to me, “There is no need to worry! No one is allowed to drive fast and everyone is ready for people crossing from garages!”

I run across the track, my body stiff. A motorcycle comes out of nowhere to my left, and I let out a yelp, closing my eyes and clenching my whole body.

“What are you doing?!” yells someone near me. I open one of my eyes, the motorcycle right in front of me. The man riding it looks slightly irritated. “Don’t tense up like that all of the sudden, it caught me off guard! I could’ve injured you.”

“Sorry!” I scuttle off to Roj, my face hot.

When I get to Roj his face has its usual serious expression on it. I think I’m already starting to get the hang of him though because he seems annoyed.

“Try not to make a fool of yourself and attract more attention than you need to,” is all he says.

“Yes sir.” I respond with my usual obedience.

Roj begins to describe again how the bi-tanks work and how to use them. “They can reach speeds of up to 200 miles per hour, but that uses a lot of the battery. Typically you will be moving at about 35 miles per hour. The motors are very efficient, so it only takes a little help from the battery to reach that speed while pedaling.” He teaches me how to drive them and which buttons do which things, such as firing shells and hovering. “As you may have seen in the main hangar some vehicles can hover briefly, and that includes this one. Use it effectively and you can accomplish many more feats.”

He has me get on the bi-tank, and then points to a wall that sits in the middle of the room. “Drive it to the firing range over there,” he commands. There are targets on the wall and only a few people are using it. Seems somewhat dangerous, but anything that is fired at the wall seems to drop straight to the ground as if it’s cushioned.

I successfully drive over, cruising at ‘bout five miles per hour, slow enough that Roj has already caught up by the time I get out of the bi-tank.

“I never told you to get out.”

“Sorry, sir,” I say, sounding like a whimpering dog while getting back into the bi-tank.

“Orient yourself towards the wall and try firing a shell at it. I loaded it with duds this morning while you were sleeping, so there is no need to worry about causing any damage.” I do as he orders and shoot a shell at the wall. It hits it and falls to the ground, as expected. “Good. That ends the basic training for how to use a bi-tank. I cannot have you doing any more than just basic training right now because of your shoulder.” That’s kinda sad, it would be pretty sick to use one of these bad boys. I guess that makes sense though. “You will be joining us on missions in two months after healing and more training. Even though you will not be participating in missions you are required to come to all briefings and debriefings, and learn more about what is involved in the missions.”

“Yes sir.”

“Now, I know it seems odd, but you are going to bring the Supernovacide with you on missions. It is best to keep it around where I am at all times—no chance of something happening to it.”

“Yes sir.” Despite any thoughts I may have in my head and my chatty mouth, I try to keep my talking to a minimum.

“Time for the next order of business—guns. That one I saw you brought with you yesterday will not be necessary anymore and I will be having you hand it over to me later.”

“But—”

“No ‘buts,’ it is not authorized.” But This is Our Town Faction gave it to me.

“Okay… sir.”

“Now come with me.” Like always, I follow.

Roj takes me to a firing range and shows me the guns they use. They’re the ones that shoot what looks like lightning from them that I saw the first day. They just call them “energy guns”, which isn’t all that exciting—at least they’re cooler to use than they sound. There’s a dial on them for how much power they shoot—the lowest causing a painful shock and the highest causing death. Usually it is kept at the two-thirds setting, which will knock you unconscious for ‘bout a day and a half. This is because the organization likes to bring back people to gain information from and try to recruit. You’d think nobody would want to join their captor, but people seem to love neutrality and the power the organization wields—they do have a lot of snazzy weaponry. The success rate of getting captives to join is ‘bout 40% to 50%.

“That is all. There is more information to teach you, such as team formations and mission conduct, but we have plenty of time for you to learn that over the next two months. Team 21’s next assignment is in two days and our briefing is tomorrow, so spend the rest of the time today and any time outside of tomorrow’s briefing bonding with your fellow teammates.” Even though Roj is ordering me, it feels kind to give me some time to spend with the others. He seems to understand how important it is to have good team chemistry.

We head back to Team Room 21, and find Clara, Georgia, and Phillip sitting in the same places as yesterday: Clara and Georgia talking at the far end of the table and Phillip laying on the couch. Still no Aria.

“He is all yours,” says Roj, taking the nearest seat at the table and picking up a book that was sitting there to read. He seems so awkward trying to sound nice and conversational.

I greet them. “Howdy, fellas.” A bit of a strange greeting, but it worked somehow the first time I met Trey, Spencer, and Harold.

“Howdy!” responds Phillip with enthusiasm.

“Hey,” Georgia says dryly.

With a kind smile Clara asks, “How did training go?”

“Pretty well, I think I’ll be able to get the hang of it all.” I stand there feeling a little awkward and not sure where to sit at the table. There are four chairs on each side, which is more than the number of people on the team, but whatever.

“That’s good,” remarks Clara. She notices my awkwardness. “Don’t be shy, come take a seat wherever you like.”

“I’ll take you up on that.” I go to take a seat next to Georgia, hoping to close the gap between us slightly—she seems so distant—when my stomach growls. I laugh slightly while scratching my head. “Guess it’s been a few hours since I last ate.”

Phillip gets up and slaps me on the back. “At ease, soldier. Let me grab you a sandwich; you need to relax. We’re gonna be working together for a while, so act more familiar.”

I guess Roj’s seriousness left me kinda tense, but I’ve always been good socially. I need to play to my strengths.

I grin at Phillip and salute. “You got it, captain.”

Phillip laughs. “And don’t you worry about it if Boss is being hard on you, he’s always been a hardass.” He laughs again.

“Go run five miles,” Roj orders Phillip suddenly without looking up from his book. Phillip’s face drops.

“Wait, that’s not—”

“Six miles.”

Phillip resigns to his fate. “Okay Boss.”

“Seven.”

“Yes sir.” Looks like Phillip needs to learn to speak respectfully.