Hello again
We are cruising through this rewrite! Holy cow. Granted a lot of these chapters don't need all that much changed, and it really was only the first three chapters that needed to be rewritten fully, but still. Trust me when I say, it does take a lot of time and effort to go through each chapter with a fine toothcomb like I am doing. A LOT of time.
A big shout out again to my Beta read Xabiar, who continues to help me with this story while simultaneously working on his own. Seriously. How do you even do that? And in all seriousness, please go check out their work. It's really, really good, and very interesting to read. Trust me. I'm an author. XD
Hope you guys and girls are enjoying everything so far. And as always, please make sure to leave reviews, comments, questions, follows, or favorites, for no other reason than you wish to see more.
Especially reviews. I Love reviews. Seriously. This piece of work could have a thousand reviews and only four followers and I would be happy as can be. Nothing makes me happier than seeing what people have to say about this little fic of mine.
Right, now onwards to the story.
Wednesday, May 4th, 2024
0130 Hours
Ugh. Mornings. I hate mornings.
And not because of some superstitious belief that mornings are unlucky either, I just genuinely hate them. The cold floor, the chipper wide-awake individuals, the stiff and lethargic movements of my body. I hate it all.
Sure, some mornings are better than others. Sometimes the floor doesn't feel like you walking barefoot on a skating rink, and even rarer, sometimes coffee is available right after waking up. But those are isolated incidents that are few far and inbetween. They are not even close to representing the majority of soul sucking wake up calls that I have experienced.
This morning however? I could feel it was going to be a doozie even by my standards. Whether it was the incessant headache that was quickly stirring my mind into consciousness, the stiff sore muscles in my shoulders and back, or the dull grey wall I found myself starting into that tipped me off to that fact, I don't know.
It was however, probably the wall that pricked my interest the most. That simple wall was the most concerning part of the whole scene before me. After all, a head or muscle ache was normal in my life. But a change of scenery, now that was cause for a little more concern.
Ignoring my body's protests, I pulled my head up and began to scan the room where I had somehow found myself.
Dark, dank and completely metal, the room had no visible windows, was barely lit up by the two electric bulbs above me, and housed a set of massive hydraulic door's, that no doubt served to block off the only visible path out.
Needless to say, it was not the most charming sight to wake up to. Especially, when you do not have the slightest of clues as to where you are, or how you even got there.
"A cargo bay of some sort?" I muttered in confusion, trying and failing horribly to fight off the dull throbbing of my head that accompanied my mental persecution and now conscious state of being.
The noises didn't help much in that department. Though they did lend a hand in helping me piece together my location. Based off the dull rumble, and randomly occurring bumps that shook the entire space and my head, I would guess that I had managed to get myself trapped in some sort of aviation transports cargo hold.
Now as for how and why I ended up here? Well, those questions would have to wait.
A quick glance downwards confirmed my theory, as I found myself strapped into an intricate buckle system attached to a wall mounted seat. The seat was, for whatever reason, decently comfortable so I probably wasn't being carted off to be tortured for information, and the buckles looked very sturdy, indicating a very fast and rough ride may be in store.
No conventional transport had setups like this. So this must be a more exclusive transport. What the hell had I managed to get myself...
"Finally awake, I see?"
I froze. That voice. I knew that voice very well. It haunted my nightmares some nights after all. Taunting me at every twist and turn, reminding me of my own failures.
Glancing in the direction the question had come from, I was greeted with a not only a very familiar face, but also her beautifully perfected look of complete and utter disappointment.
Lockdown.
"Shit." I uttered, as the memories of the past day finally caught up with my groggy head space. Recounting for me in excruciating detail every single interaction and moment, right up to the instant that the G forces of the ship's acceleration had knocked me head first into the bay doors.
"Enjoy your impromptu nap, Private?"
Groaning more out of embarrassment than anything else, my mind responded on autopilot. "Not particularly, ma'am."
Of course, I made sure to remember her exact feelings on being called ma'am moments after the words left my mouth.
"Shit, right. Sorry!" I sputtered out, raising my hands in mock surrender as her eyes flashed dangerously before me. I must have openly shown enough my dread as to the consequences of the mistake, because an eye roll and a smirk was her only response.
Which in comparison to death, is a much better outcome.
Leaning my head back against the cool metal seat backing, I gestured towards her. "Ok. So how about instead of just waiting for me to mess that up again, how about you just tell me what I should call you instead."
Slowly, and very deliberately, she made her way over to the seat beside me. Her legs visibly shifting to accommodate for every single movement of the ship with almost inhumane grace. "You can call me whatever you want," she stated very concisely. "So long as you continue to respect my authority and answer my commands in a fast and efficient manner."
Pausing for a moment, she brought a hand up to her chin. "Though I don't think for you, that will be much of a problem." She chuckled, winking at me almost playfully before donning her neutral expression once more.
Day one and already pegged as a "teacher's pet." Great.
I let out an audible sigh in both annoyance and defeat. "As you command...Lock."
She smirked heavily at my reluctance, before gesturing for me to continue.
"So what? Is this the part where you answer any and all of my, no doubt pointless and stupid questions?" I inquired, hoping against hope she wouldn't tease me too much before answering.
At this point it was proving to be highly unlikely, but hey, I can hope right?
"Staff Sergeant Lockdown, at your service," she stated, sarcasm oozing out of every word she spoke.
I of course, took that as a sign to continue, and proceeded with little caution. "Ok. Well, whatever happened to the suit-and-tie guy I was supposed to meet up with?"
Another raised eyebrow in response. If luck would have it, I would have her confused expression memorized before this trip was over.
"Really?" She commented, completely bemused. "You were hand selected to join what might be the deadliest shock squad this side of the resistance, and that's the most pressing question you have?"
I nodded hesitantly in response, shrinking more and more into my seat with every passing second that her gaze was directed at me.
"Well I wouldn't call it my most pressing..." I muttered, averting my eyes to try and save a little face. What the hell was her problem? Was she just going out of her way to make me feel stupid now?
Blinking a couple times, and shaking her head clear of whatever confusion she was clearly experiencing, she spoke once more. "The suit-and-tie guy, as you so eloquently called him, for lack of a better word, is me. Suit and Tie is the code we use to prevent anyone else from knowing a member of Lockdown is within the vicinity."
She glanced over to me quickly before continuing. "As to your next question, I showed myself and went against that protocol for two reasons. First, the moral boost that those new recruits will have gotten from knowing that if they work hard enough, they too could someday become a member of an elite squad like Lockdown, is far larger in size than the risk I took exposing myself for that brief period of time. The second reason is because you were taking too long."
I blinked, more out of disbelief to her correct assumption than anything else, before nodding and forging forwards once more. I would have time to worry about her perceptiveness later, right now I was being given an opportunity to get some answers. A chance I might not have again for quite some time.
"Ok. So I guess my next question then is why the fuck was I chosen?" I paused to glance in her direction before continuing. "Don't get me wrong, I'm honored and flattered that you think I can be a part of your squad, but you no doubt had the pick of the litter when it comes to candidates. So why pick me? A guy who's only real forte is rifle play. You already have that category in spades Lock. It's not like you need another sharpshooter."
A loud sigh was her first response, followed closely by a small pause as my words no doubt caught up with her. "I could very well tell you," she outlined very slowly, narrowing her eyes at me as she spoke. "But honestly, I would recommend waiting for the Commander to explain that one. He was the one who selected you for the role anyways, not me, so let's just put that one on the back burner for now, ok?"
I nodded a couple times in answer, before quickly continuing down my mentally check list of questions. "Ok. What can you tell me about your... our, squad?"
A smile, a real genuine smile crossed her face at that question. The first one I had ever seen on her. Clearly my new squad mates were a serious point of pride for her, or maybe she just liked them. Who knows. Stranger things have happened as of late.
"Squad Lockdown," she excitedly declared. "As you know, is a small group, consisting of six, now seven, highly specialized members who are considered to be the premier shock squad of the Global Resistance. Our missions are all classified as above top secret, and are usually to some degree, suicidal in nature."
She paused to breath before continuing. "That's the official story anyways. Tell me, have you ever heard of a division of the military called XCOM?"
My brain spun to life, recounting any and all information about different divisions of the military. XCOM, I had heard that name before, but just briefly.
"The uh, Communications development sector? I think?" I spoke slowly, briefly recalling a report I had read about a year ago with that name in the title.
A hum of acknowledgment was her only response before she continued with her expatiation. "That's their official title, yes. In actuality though, they are an underground research and development division of the military who now oversees all new weapon and armor developments for the entire resistance. Specifically, the developments that are garnered from research, based off the aliens technology. Technology which I might add we have been acquiring more and more of over the years."
"So basically, they are Area 51." I nodded, as pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place.
She nodded. "In a sense, yes. However, unlike Area 51, they have actually made a number of quite remarkable breakthroughs in the past few years. The three biggest ones being the creation of MEC Troopers, Genetic modification, and Cryogenic stasis."
"Ok wait, hold up," I interrupted quickly. "What does all that have to do with your squad? I thought you all were soldiers, not scientists."
"Guinea pigs would be a more accurate description, actually," she chuckled, seemingly unhindered by my interruption. "All this prototype weaponry and experimental armor? It needs to be tested in real combat before being deployed to the masses, and that's where we come in. Since we have the most contact, with the widest variety of enemies, we can provide the scientists back home with the real world data and information they need, in order to make these new weapons and shit actually combat viable. Of course we do this while still completing missions, and helping to push back the invaders too, so it's a real win-win situation for us."
She paused before completely turning her attention onto me. "Now private, since I have been nice and answered a few of your questions, I think it's only fair that you answer a couple questions of mine."
She spoke in a tone that left no room for argument on my part, though it's not like I could rightly refuse the orders of a senior officer anyways so what did it matter.
"First off," she began. "Your file said you have been in training for a little over forty months. That's well over double the usual time it takes to graduate and be assigned to a squad. What it didn't explain though is why. Care to shed some light on that?"
"Well," I began slowly, eyeing her carefully as I spoke. "It's pretty simple, actually. During my first year of training, I was involved in a live fire training accident that resulted in the injury of both my legs. Nothing too serious, or life altering as you can see, but it warranted surgery, which did put me out of training for around six to eight months."
She nodded stiffly, silently signaling for me to continue with my story.
"After that I had to restart training from phase one. Turns out lying around all day and rehab hadn't helped too much in building back up the endurance or strength needed to continue, so it was back to the pits so to speak. Twenty months of training later and boom. Here I am." I finished, shrugging casually, as if I told that story a hundred times.
I could see from the frown that marred locks face however, that she didn't quite believe it. Her scowl twisting and turning as she now doubt mentally tried to figure out the timeline I had given her.
There was little to no qualm in my mind, that she would soon realize there was about half a year missing from my explanation. Six months of work that she would most definitely have seen in my full file, if she had access to it. Which I was willing to bet, based on her lack of memory as to who I am, she didn't.
CTD. Cryo stasis Training and Development. Six months of grueling, completely optional training that was supposed to prepare you in the event you became a member of a fast deployment squad. Many people called it unnecessary and complete hell. I called it a good distraction from reality, and less painful than loss.
But that was my own business. Not hers. And I don't owe her anything, least of all an exploitation for my secrecy. Especially not after the hell she put us through during her little stint in our barracks.
I might still harbor some respect for her, but if she wanted those answers, then she would have to get them the hard way. By proving to me she deserved them, getting me to trust her, or just beating them out of me. Which, if the unwavering glare she currently had aimed at me was anything to go by, might just be her first option.
Granted she had already spoken to me more in the past day, than she had in over a year, and while that may be because she doesn't remember me, that is at least a little bit of an improvement already. Who knows, maybe there is actually a person under that skin, and not some cyborg as everyone else seemed to think.
"Alright second question." she suddenly declared, apparently giving up on trying to figure out the proper timeline for time being. "How did you know about my static rifl..."
Ping
"Ladies and gentlemen this is your captain speaking. We are about thirty seconds away from our rapid descent into friendly airspace. Please strap in for the final approach, as I'm going to see if I can set a new landing speed record in this thing."
The cheerful voice of our pilot Big Sky rang out through the cabin, effortlessly diffusing the palpable tension in the air, and putting a swift end to the interrogation that Lock no doubt had been hoping to continue. Though if the glare she sent my way was anything to go by, she wasn't finished with me just yet. Not by a long shot.
Having learned my lesson the first time, I quickly glanced down to ensure I was completely strapped in, before leaning back against the seat in preparation for whatever stunt our lunatic pilot had planned this time.
The ship seemingly dropped out of the sky not a moment later. And with it, my stomach.
