"10 seconds... 11... 12..."

"Allen! Avoid civilians!" the intercom blared into the private's ear - shattering his concentration. He flinched, finger slipping on the trigger causing a large hole to imprint itself in a cut out's head of a little kid.
"whoops." he sighed, shooting another clip across the area of the pit before reloading his M4 silently. He pushed himself towards the off grey building in shambles and up a set of cement stairs, slashing through a target of a man bearing an AK-47.

"14 seconds... 15... 16..."

Adrenaline pushed through his veins, rushing him to jump from the two story landing.

"18 seconds... 19... 20..."

Allen stumbled as his feet hit the rocks, causing him to fall behind a blackened car. The sound of rushing metal filled the Afghanistan air as four more targets popped up, Allen jumping to his feet to greet the cut outs with metal rounds before running towards the end of the training course. He jogged north, shooting down a target off to his left - turning right as another appeared next to a crate.

"26 seconds... 27... 28..."

"Allen! Don't just stand there! RELOAD!" the intercom snapped back on, breaking the quiet air. The private rushed the target, stabbing the man's throat clean through - leaving his knife embedded in his wind pipe. Allen dashed towards the open metallic gate marked 'Finish'.

"30 seconds... 31... 32... done."

He sighed as he crossed the crimson line painted faintly on the ground, looking to the left of him as the intercom's operator began to clap as he walked toward a panting Allen.
"THAT is how the pit should be ran." the man laughed, clasping a now wobbly Allen on the shoulder, causing the private to almost crumble at the added weight.
"...Minus the dead civilian."
Allen met the man's eyes and instantly recognized him. Corporal Dunn smirked, grabbing the young child's cardboard head off a table behind him.
"Poor unsuspecting tot... never reached his tenth birthday." Dunn wiped a fake tear from his cheek as Allen allowed his body to collapse to the concrete floor. He was tired - shaky from the lack of adrenaline now depleted, and irritated.

The day before he had been told tomorrow (today) would be his day off... but "Sergent" Foley destroyed his happiness by hauling him out of bed at 6:30am - yelling at him to get to the training area.
"Because God Knows Foley can't shoot a gun correctly himself" Allen had told Dunn earlier when he had dragged himself to the pit for a quick training session in front of general Sheppard.
"Calm down and relax" Allen recalled Dunn saying. "Think of it this way - Sheppard's looking for someone to join an elite squad that's main job is to take down Vladimir Makarov."
"Oh yay! Lets all be Prima-donnas and spray bullets all over the damn place before running to get our nails done." Allen had snapped in retort before grabbing his M4A1 off the table and walked towards the starting gate.
"It'll get you away from Foley." Dunn replied in a sing-song tone, hitting the grey button to open the swinging gate.
"Now I'm interested." Allen mumbled before he had shot the first targets that popped up. Not even one second after he had entered the course had the intercom crackled for the first time, Dunn's voice shooting out across the pit.
"Remember Allen - get the fastest time you can with the least amount of mistakes."
Allen had scoffed, shooting a cut out between the eyes while mentally counting to himself.

"8 seconds... 9..."

"ALLEN!" Dunn's voice rang across the enclosed area. Allen jumped, eyes flying open as he hit his head against the fence behind him, causing a sharp pain to radiate across his skull.
"What." Allen hissed, shutting his eyes again before bringing his hands to massage his temples.
"Geez - thought you were dead." Dunn laughed - ignoring Allen's present grouchy tone. "I kept saying your name.." Dunn shook his head, before holstering a lone baretta that was on the ceramic table top.
Allen groaned, leaning his head against a black metal crate.
"Can i go back to bed yet?" he groaned, shifting his body to where he was secluded in the box's shadow.

"Sorry buddy.." Dunn sighed. "Not yet – Foley's in a pissy mood and..." Footsteps pounded down the steps quickly, stopping short of Dunn's position.

"Corporal! Where's Allen?" Foley's voice rang across the covered area. Allen groaned, smacking his forehead with his hand.
"Here." Allen stood, still shaky. Foley scoffed, pointing towards the stairs.
"Enemy Militia blowing up the bridge support." Foley grunted. "Get your shit and get out there - Rangers are moving in for backup."

Allen nodded in return before jogging up the steps and towards the convoys.

"... to continue the sentence; you know how much of an asshole he can be when he's in his 'moods'" Dunn mumbled as he parted from Allen into the humvee behind his. Allen sighed in return, a black hand opening the door for him to get inside. Allen complied, taking his seat next to Foley himself, leaning his head against the door frame before shutting his eyes.

"Please let me get some sleep on the way to wherever WITHOUT getting blown to shit."