My name is Mallory Phoenix. I'm a Diagnostician working out of the University of Washington Medical Center. Rather, I was. Before that, I was a Combat Medic attached to a MARSOC unit. I personally wasn't a Raider, having washed out just before graduation, but I knew someone who is. Now I'm an agent of the SHD, the Strategic Homeland Division. I was told that I was selected for The Division for several reasons, one of them being my ability to work in high-stress environments where bullets are flying and people are yelling.

I picked that particular skill up during my time in the Marines. I had joined with my boyfriend and was placed into the same unit as him. When he was selected for the MARSOC pipeline, so was I. Unlike me, he didn't wash out. He took everything they threw at him and asked for more. But he didn't judge me for washing out. He told me that he was always going to be proud of me no matter what, and that wasn't a lie.

When I washed out, instead of going back to my normal duty I was selected to be the designated Medic for the unit my boyfriend was in. He had pulled some strings after graduation and I was happy he did. I was involved with every operation he was in until my 4 years were up. When I told him that I wanted to be a real doctor, he supported that decision. Of course, this meant we'd be apart for the first time in what seemed like forever, but we both dealt with it fairly well. When he was deployed, I was in school. When he was home, I was on break. It was almost like strings were being pulled behind the curtain to make everything line up just so, but whenever I asked him about it he denied doing anything like that.

One day after work, two men in suits were waiting by my car. They told me that I had to come with them. My first thought was that something had happened to Michael, my boyfriend, and he was hurt. They ushered me into their SUV and I knew immediately that wasn't the case. Once inside, there wasn't any seeing outside. I demanded to know what this all was about, but all they told me was that everything would be explained shortly.

That was a lie. It took a long, long time to have my questions answered. We drove for hours. Once we stopped, they opened the door and escorted me to a room attached to some parking garage. The room had a table and two chairs, one on each side. No windows. The hair on the back of my neck was sticking straight up. Before they closed the door, another man in a suit walked in and sat down on the opposite side of the table. I decided that I'd rather stand.

Then, he explained everything to me. He told me that I was selected as a prospect for the SHD. More specifically, I was selected to be what was essentially a sleeper agent. He told me what Directive 51 was and what it was intended for. When I asked why I was selected, he told me things about me that I didn't know were accessible to someone like him.

He went over my history as a child, about how I was always in AP classes, how I got through Pre-Med while I was in High School, how my intelligence was noted by every single teacher and professor I ever had. He spoke of every single operation I was involved in with such detail that I didn't even know was recorded on the official reports. I would have felt flattered at having my ego stroked if I didn't also feel terrified.

He told me that should a catastrophic event happen somewhere in the US, SHD agents would be deployed to contain the situation and restore order. Agents empowered by Directive 51 were answerable only to the President of the United States when activated, and any orders from them would usurp any other orders from anyone else. He pulled out a big, bulky watch and told me how that if an orange ring lit up inside the watch face, every agent was to drop whatever they were doing and go do their duty. Before that, nobody could or would know about my involvement with the SHD.

The man told me that every single person selected for this were all from different careers, locations, and walks of life. He told me with a smile that anyone could be an agent, even people I know or work with. I felt like that was very deliberately said. Immediately my mind went to Michael. Was he already an agent? Were they planning on choosing him? Would he even agree to it?

He then outlined the plan put in place for The Division. Not every agent would be activated at the same time. Instead, groups of agents would be activated in three different 'Waves' and that if I agreed to it, I would be part of the 'First Wave' of agents. Every agent was part of a four-man team, a team that we would only meet if and when we were activated. We'd be guided to a designated location, a safehouse of sorts, and meet up there. Then we would get our orders and roll out. Agents would be assigned callsigns upon activation which would fit our profile and help differentiate ourselves from other agents.

Then, he asked the question. Whether or not I wanted to be an agent of the SHD. He told me that I could take as long as necessary to decide, but I couldn't leave until then. Afterwards, he left the room, telling me to knock on the door when I had decided. I sat there, stunned. Overloaded with all the information I had just been given. Could I do it? Could I be someone who works for the greater good like that? Did I even want to?

It would be a huge burden. I couldn't tell Michael. At the same time, I couldn't keep something like that from him. Neither of us had any secrets to hide from the other. We had known each other since we were kids. He would be able to tell if I was keeping something from him. Then, when he asked, I wouldn't be able to tell him. That would hurt him. It would hurt me. I got up to knock on the door, determined to tell the man in the suit to go to hell. That I wasn't going to do that to the man I loved.

But I stopped, just before my knuckles made contact with the door. I was being selfish, I realized. I was trying to put myself before millions, if not hundreds of millions of people who I might have a chance to help save one day. Tears streamed down my face. How could they expect me to decide? I fell to the floor, bringing my knees to my chest. I couldn't decide. Was I going to essentially destroy what I had with Michael? Or was I going to potentially risk the lives of others just so I didn't have to do that?

I don't know how long I was on that floor before I remember Michael's words to me. Back when I washed out of MARSOC, when I told him that I couldn't take it anymore, he held me. He told me that no matter what, he was proud of me. That nothing in this world would ever change that. He told me that he would always love me.

I stood up, hoping that he would forgive me. I knocked on that door and told the man in the suit what I had decided. I told him yes. Then, he asked me what kind of gear I'd like to have stashed away for me at whatever safehouse was chosen for my team. I picked an HK416, an MP5, and a PX4 Storm. No real surprises there. During my time attached to Michael's MARSOC unit I worked closely with all the gear I had just selected and knew I was good with it.

Then, he told me what my designated 'Shade Tech' gear would be. He took out what looked to be a small round tube and handed it to me. It had a green band of paint on the top and told me that it was a highly compact, extremely durable syringe. The syringe was filled with a solution that would flood the body in an injected area, that it would temporarily stop wounds from bleeding and being painful. This would keep an agent in the fight long enough for them to be patched up afterwards. He said it would last as long as the adrenaline was flowing through one's system and once that was gone, you'd start bleeding again.

He said that I'd have a large stash of these along with my gear, and to use them sparingly if I was ever activated. He said that it works best when injected next to the wound, but that if there are multiple wounds it'll still work, but'll take longer to circulate to the right area. This technology was so far beyond anything else that it wasn't even funny. This sounded like something out of a video game or some cheesy movie. Alas, it was real.

He then told me about ISAC, which was housed in the storage of the watch. It was a multi-purpose AI that could scan objects and people, hack into computers and networks, and act as a comms relay between my team. He explained that to go long with the watch was a pair of special contact lenses and a supplemental device, which would boost the power and range of ISAC's other functions that other members of my team would have access to. The contact lenses weren't corrective, but acted as an augmented reality device to relay all of the information ISAC was capable of processing.

There was also an ear piece, which would allow us to mute the speakers on the watch and have audio from both ISAC and comms come through on the ear piece, ensuring that we maintain OPSEC. This was all less of a shock to me than the medical device, but still shocking nonetheless. Afterwards, he told me that additional gear would be provided for all agents at their designated safehouse, including body armor, spare clothes, and masks with both standard and UV filters.

Then, I was taken back to my car which was still in the hospital parking lot. The reality of what I had just done set in and I was back to feeling guilty. I'd never be able to keep this from Michael, but I had to. He'd figure out I was hiding something and then feel betrayed when I didn't tell him. He'd never ask or bring it up, but he'd know. He was frustrating that way. Michael would call me the smart one, but I knew better. He was just as bright as me, but felt that he'd stick out even more than he already did, so he hid it from everyone. Everyone but me. He never hid anything from me, and I was about to start hiding something from him.

When I finally got home, it was late. Much later than I had ever gotten home before without calling him. I stayed in the driveway and cried in the car. I was about to do something that I never thought I would have to do. I was going to end things with him. Disappear from his life. I wasn't sure if it would be easier than constantly hiding this from him, but I didn't have a choice. This way, I could protect him. It was funny in a way, since he was always the one protecting me even though neither of us needed protecting.

He was confused at first, when I woke him up. I tried to be as vague as possible when I told him that I had done something and because of that we couldn't be together anymore. I knew he wouldn't think it, but I assured him anyways that I hadn't cheated on him. I just couldn't be with him, and I couldn't tell him why. Both of us cried. I got some clothes and stayed at a hotel before getting my own place. A tiny apartment a few miles away from the hospital.

While I was leaving the house I had lived in for years, I noticed something on the coffee table. It was a small, black box. I knew what it was. It was his mother's ring. He was going to propose to me that night and I had just broken up with him. There aren't words that describe just how terrible I felt in that moment.

About six months later I knew that my activation was coming. Practically every major city had been infected with what was referred to as 'green poison' and the world descended into chaos. I still tried to do my job at the hospital, but things were bad. The National Guard had been deployed all across the country, martial law was in effect, and there was talk about recalling our troops that were deployed overseas. Michael was deployed at this time.

I hadn't gone a single day without thinking about him and what I did. My social life ceased to be. I'd wake up, go to work, come home, and cry myself to sleep. I was living a life that I didn't want after abandoning the life I did want. I didn't give him my address. He could have always come to the hospital, but he didn't. It was better that way for both of us. I hoped that he would have moved on from me, but the exact opposite happened. Instead of trying to make the most out of his time left at home, he asked to be redeployed.

He was. I heard from a few people that we both knew, people from his unit, that he was pushing himself harder than he ever did before. They blamed me. They were right to, but it didn't hurt any less. They told me that Michael was going to get himself killed and it was my fault. I just hoped that they were wrong. I was told that I was being stubborn, selfish, and stupid. There were rumors among all of our mutual friends that I had cheated on him, that I was seeing someone else days after I left. None of them were true, but that didn't stop them.

I knew what they were doing, of course. They were trying to either get us back together or get him to find someone else. From what I understand, it didn't work. It only pushed him further away. But when I heard news of us possibly calling our troops back, my legs felt weak and I nearly collapsed. He was safer in the Middle East, believe it or not. This virus was like smallpox, but a million times worse. It was lethal on a scale never seen before and was able to be transmitted during incubation. The symptoms were so severe that people were arguing whether or not it was better to just euthanize whoever was infected, and it was actually being considered by the ethics board.

I had just gotten off of work when an orange ring glowed in the darkness of my car. It was my watch. I had been activated. Just then, I had two SUVs roll up on either side of my car and I saw two men in suits step out of one. It was the same two from before. They told me that I had to come with them. Knowing this is what I had thrown away my previous life for, I did. They told me that I would be flying to New York. When I asked why I wasn't being sent to Seattle, which was much closer, they told me that agents had already been deployed to Seattle the previous day.

After taking off from a random airfield out in the middle of nowhere in Washington, the watch AI, ISAC, spoke for the first time. "Directive 51 enacted. Identity confirmed. Callsign: Lifeline. Directive: Restore order to the city of New York. Current Primary Objective: Go to the safehouse and link up with other agents. Division Team Echo activated."

Lifeline was as good of a callsign as any. It was pretty clear what my job would be on the team. ISAC was silent after that. We landed at JFK Airport and while we were touching down I could see the fires all around the city. The airport was empty. Completely, totally empty. Then, ISAC's GPS came online and lead me to the safehouse. It was a long, long walk. Just over 16 miles. I was extremely happy I was armed. I was a concealed carry permit holder and I had to use my weapon, a Walther PPK in .380 APC. Michael had gotten it for me on my birthday the previous year.

My oath to 'do no harm' was directly usurped by my oath to the United States Government when I decided to become an agent of the SHD. While I didn't feel good about putting down street thugs that overstepped their bounds, they didn't listen when I told them I was there to help. Along the way I saw other bodies. Cops, EMTs, civilians, and even National Guard. Some of them were obvious street thugs, still gripping their weapon of choice. I wondered shortly if another Division Agent had been through here, as the shots on the street thugs were extremely precise.

The safehouse was located in a service tunnel connected to the Queens Midtown Tunnel, just off of a service tunnel. Once I unlocked the door to it with ISAC's key code, I knew I wasn't the first one there. There was light coming from the end of a hallway, which had four doors in a row. I was curious and wanted to introduce myself to my teammate. I opened the door and I saw someone I never thought I'd see again.

He was tall. Taller than most people, standing at 6'5. He had two different color eyes, a result of Heterochromia Iridum which he inherited from his mother. Slightly dark, sandy blonde hair. He was very handsome. He also had a light beard, which did little to hide an x shaped scar on his cheek. He got that scar after taking a face full of shrapnel while covering a squad made from an explosion. I know because I was the one who patched up that cheek, and I was the one who he was covering. He protected me countless times and I repaid him by breaking his heart. It was Michael. They had approached him, just like they did me.

Then, I heard him speak.

"Mallory?!"

A/N: Hello once again my dear readers. This update came quicker than I thought it would, but I suppose that's not a bad thing. This chapter was pretty easy to write since it followed the same format as the first chapter. The next two chapters will be 'connected' in the same way these two are, so expect chapter 3 to take some time to write and chapter 4 to be posted soon after.

Thanks for reading the second chapter of Ex Umbra In Solem and I hope you continue to follow me on this journey.