Well that was quicker than anticipated.
So this chapter was… actually pretty easy. Which was weird. I feel like the next ones are going to be super tough just because life has got to even out the discrepancy somehow.
Anyways. Overall I'm still happy with how this came out and somehow, it's also the longest chapter yet at just over 4k words.
Cool eh? Also as a reminder, this one is supposed to be a bit more light-hearted anyways so having a few laughs here is not a bad thing. Plus I think by now we all know, Lock will still be Lock.
Hope you are all doing well. Big thank you for the two new followers recently. Been really cool to see more and more people liking this fic as it rolls out the second time. As always hit me up with those reviews XD I'm an addict after all.
Cheers
Wednesday, May 4th, 2024
1249 Hours
Being a man of the military, regret is something I have become quite accustomed to.
The knowledge that there might have been a better way to do something, or that it was possible to ensure a much better result, will always find a way to catch up and haunt you in your weakest moment. No matter how hard you try to break free from its hold.
This is especially true when confronted with the information after the event has occurred. Finding out you could have saved a life or three after those people are already gone… It's quite possibly the worst feeling in the entire world.
The pain of loss, coupled with the stench of regret that now permeates your every waking instance. It's a fate I wish on no one. Not even my enemies.
The worst part of it all though, has got to be the fact it never gets any better. Not really, anyways. Sure, the ache of loss dulls over time, and eventually you learn to live with the sting of regret that pops back up anytime someone mentions their names, but it never really leaves you.
You will find yourself spending many nights lying awake, replaying the event over and over in your head, thinking about every single moment again and again, until you're positive you could have saved them. It's not a question of if this will happen either, but of when, and how often.
For me, it happens far more than is probably healthy. So much so that until today, I honestly couldn't remember the last time I had gotten a good night's sleep. Let alone eight hours of undisturbed rest.
"Fuck me." I muttered, sitting up to get a look at the digital clock resting on my new rooms bedside table.
"Did they lace these sheets with Restoril or something?" I muttered, flopping back onto the warm covers bellow me with a lethargic but blissful sigh.
I would be lying if I said that this deliciously comfortable bed was not tempting me to go back to sleep for a few more minutes. The soft mattress beneath me was practically begging for me to lay back and relax for at least a few more minutes.
It was really only the ingrained training from the past few years that kept me from passing out for another few hours.
Seriously, whoever picked these beds for XCOM, deserved a raise and then some.
Granted, after years of sleeping on nothing but the disjointed piles of wood and blankets, that The Global Resistance passed off as beds, I'm not exactly the toughest person on the planet to please.
Plus I'm sure the pleasure of waking up without back pains, or the sounds of trumpets sounding directly in my ear, may have also swung the tables unfairly in XCOM's direction.
A blissful sigh escaped me, as I just lay still for a few moment longer. Just thinking about these new amazing benefits that came with workings for a secret underground organization put a grin on my face.
God, I don't think I had been that happy in the morning, since that one time in high school when I didn't wake up alone.
A sly smile creeping out onto my face as that particular memory flashed through my brain. Yes sir. Good times indeed.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The clock beside my head was fairly small, but that tiny little box may as well have been a fucking full out fire alarm to my still sleep induced brain.
"An alarm?" I muttered furiously, quickly sitting up and grabbed the small box in search of the off button. "Who the fuck sets an alarm for one in the afternoon?!"
Finding the switch proved fairly easy, unfortunately for me though, there was no way that I would be getting any more sleep. Not after that miniature heart attack anyways.
"Fine." I groaned, sitting up slowly and resigning myself to getting up. "I'll get up. But I am going to take my sweet ass time doing so."
It took me a few seconds to realize I was indeed talking to myself again.
"Fuck it." I muttered, swinging my legs around to stand up. "Not like anyone else will know about it."
Discretely I checked to make sure there was no video cameras in my room, before breathing a quick sigh of relief. It wouldn't do for XCOM to think that their newest recruit was off his rocks on the first day. That revelation would have to wait until at least a month in.
Stretching upwards, I slowly stood and moved away from the comfortably seductress that was my new bed, and began my long journey towards my clothing and gear, cracking my arms, legs and back as I went. Yes, I am aware that its not great for my joint health but hey, the Chances of me living through this war is astronomically low anyways, I happen to enjoying the pops and clicks that accompanied each new stretch, and the relaxed release that comes with freshly popped joints.
Its therapeutic in a way.
"Yup. A guy could get used to this kind of morning." I groaned, popping my shoulders one last time, before letting my arms flop down to my side once more.
Feet now firmly anchored to the cold concrete floor bellow me, I made my way slowly over to my bag and yesterdays discarded clothing.
Extracting fresh clothing from the worn out, zippered, mess of a bag; turned out to be a rather tedious process sadly. Resulting in sadly another small hole, in one of the last normal shirts I had left.
"Tsk" I clicked, pulling and yanking on each new garment that appeared, as I searched for the right uniform.
Finally, after a few minutes of struggle, I managing to extract a light tan t-shirt and a pair of surplus pants from the bag. The space in said bag was then immediately filled with my carefully fold BDU, retrieved freshly from the floor by the bed. Of course I was careful to keep it neat and clean, just in case I would have to wear it again. The chances were low, but hey, always prepare for the worst, hope for the best.
"Should probably do laundry that at some point to," I muttered to no one as I continued to prepare myself for the upcoming trials. Lacing up my boots up extra tight, and ensuring my outfit was free of stains before even daring to leave the room.
I was certainly not procrastinating as much as possible before the inevitable confrontation occurred. No, no. Cleaning ones room and uniform, was standard procedure before seeking out a superior, unless you wanted to do push ups until you puked of course. Everyone knew that.
Sadly though, soon enough I was as ready as I was ever going to be, and out of things to do. A final glance around my new room confirmed there was, in fact, nothing more to be done here, meaning it was finally time to face her again.
A rather large sigh escaped me as I slowly made my way out of my new room and across the hall to Lock's room. "Out of the pan and into the fire I suppose." I muttered, ensuring my door closed fully before turning to the door across the hall.
Feeling a bit more awake than yesterday, I made sure to pound the door extra cheerfully in hopes that some of my good mood would wear off on her.
Unfortunately for me, life doesn't ever seem to work in that way.
Creak
The most murderous, bloodshot eyes I have ever bore witness to, peeked out from behind the crack the door had opened up.
It was quite evident by her eyes alone, that Lock had not gotten even close to as good a night of a sleep as I had.
"Oh, it's you," she remarked dryly, swinging the door open to reveal herself and her room.
Though its not like I really took much notice of the room. Not when she was dressed like that.
Clad in nothing but spandex shorts and a sports bra, with sweat still freshly gleaming in the dim light of her room, I'm pretty sure the room could have been a portal to the gates of hell itself, and I still wouldn't have taken noticed.
God, she was even more intimidating wearing this outfit than her BUD. Though that was more due to the absurd level of fitness she displayed than anything else.
Taut and toned, muscle wrapped itself around every part of her body. Her arms looked tough enough to strangle a sectoid, her legs could probably bench the entire base, and good god, she rocked a six pack that would put even the most hardened body builder to shame.
She was the absolute definition of compact and lethal beauty.
She would also no doubt kill me if she knew of even a single thought that ran through my head in that short span of time.
"Took your sweet time getting up," she growled darkly while turning around and quickly slipping on a light brown t-shirt plus, a pair of cargo pants as she spoke.
I blinked a few times at her, subconsciously clearing my head of all previous thoughts, before carefully responding. "I apologize, Sergeant. I didn't mean to take your words last night literally." I spoke as easily as possible, in vain hopes of minimizing the ass whopping I would probably be reviving right off the bat.
She let out an audible sigh, before grabbing a rather large watch from her night stand and making her way over to me.
"Alright, listen up private," she stated, my instant snap to attention at her words doing little to quell the annoyed expression that now mired her face. "This operation hinges on you not only becoming as physically capable as me, but also mentally conditioning yourself to think and act in a similar manner to me."
She paused to make sure I was following her train of thought before soldiering on. "That will not happen if you continue to treat me as a superior to you. So for the sake of the mission, and my own sanity, would you kindly knock that shit off!"
As was probably expected, I was woefully unprepared for that kind of brutally honest statement, this early in the morning.
Though I can proudly say, that not only did I manage a weak nod in reply, but with only slight hesitation was also able to pull myself out of my at attention posture, and lean back casually back against the door frame.
A small pat on the cheek was my reward my efforts.
"Much better," she encouraged mockingly, walking calmly past me and down the adjoining hallway as she spoke.
I simply rolled my eyes at the back of her head before quickly jogging to catch up. Following her carefully as she wound her way through the hallways, with an incredible and practiced ease.
Apparently she was not as pissed off as last night had made me think. Which was a good thing. I think.
"I take it you have been here a while?" I joked loudly, as we just barely squeaked past a large dolly transport.
"Long enough to know my way around." She nodded, steadily increasing our pace as the hallways opened up a little more.
"You don't say" I muttered sarcastically, jogging quickly after her steadily accelerating form.
A few minutes and a couple dozen hallways later, we found ourselves jogging through a large pair of doubled doors, and into a vast, table filled auditorium.
Which, judging by the abundance of various types of dishes, the multitudes of various random personnel, and the divine smells wafting from the very center of this monstrous area, was probably the mess hall.
It was of course at that moment when my body decided to quite loudly remind me I had not eaten a single thing since breakfast.
Yesterday.
A light chuckle from the woman beside me, confirmed that it was, in fact, loud enough for others to hear.
"Seems like someone's hungry," she jabbed lightly, before quickly making her way towards a small line up near the center of the room. Grabbing two trays off the tables as she passed.
I wordlessly followed, my mouth already watering in anticipation as I watched various foods be dropped unceremoniously onto my tray in quick succession. Creating a multi-colored blob of delicious smelling, nutritious goodness for me to no doubt chow down on.
"You are the best person in the world right now." I uttered thankfully, when she handed one of the heaping trays to me and led me to one of the tables.
Quickly taking a seat, I all but fell onto my food with the same vigor that a lion falls on a wounded animal. Eating it as quickly and efficiently as possible, while ignoring pretty much everything else around me, until I had scraped up the last few bites up and wiped the tray clean.
By the time I was done, Lock, who had only finished about half of her meal, was sporting a rather confused and amused grin.
"Do you even take time to breath when you eat?" She questioned, methodically eating her way through each portion of her meal bit by bit as she spoke.
I flashed her as large of a smile as possible. "Usually I eat a little slower," I explained, watching patiently as she finished her third meal portion. "But not by much. Call it a bad habit if you will."
A non-committal hum was her only response, as little by little the last of her food was whittled away until only her tray remained.
"Right." She nodded, standing to no doubt deposit her plater. "Off to the pit."
And just like that we were off again. Weaving through the maze of underground tunnels that made up the complex, at a clip that left me with very little room to talk or discuss anything with her.
Our destination this time? The main training center of this insane complex. Or as Lock calls it, the pit.
A massive open area, nearly three times to size of the mess hall that encompassed everything a solider needed to train up to, and maintain, peak fitness levels.
And when I say everything, I do mean everything. Rock climbing walls, machine circuits, free weights setups, obstacle courses, hand-to-hand combat mats, a full sized pool and a full sized running track. Hell, they even had a live fire range and holographic simulation deck available for use.
One look was enough to tell me how much I would be seeing this room in the coming months, and just how much pain I was going to be in for likely the rest of my stay here.
"Alright Private, form up!"
I nearly pissed myself in surprise at the level of intensity Lock's voice was instilled with. She was in full don't fuck with me mode it seemed.
Luckily for me however, I was use to surprises and reacted purely off of the instincts created from several years worth of basic training. Snapping hastily to attention in front of her.
"Alright," she stated forcefully, pacing back and forth in front of me. "Here's the deal. The genetic modifications that you will be receiving are going to have several major effects on your body. Most of these effects are enhancements to your physical strength and speed, however, they can vary depending on the person. As such, it is my job to prepare you for the coming changes to the best of my abilities, and ensure that you also don't accidently kill yourself in the transition stage afterwards. Understand?"
"Yes, Ma..." I paused, thankfully stopping myself before the sentence was complete. "Lock."
A sly grin cracked its way onto her face at my almost-mistake. "Close," she acknowledged, her grin ever widening. "But no cigar. Seems we will be starting with the obstacle course today."
"Fuck." I muttered, acknowledging the inevitability that whatever she had planned for me, it would not be pleasant.
I hate being right, and before you ask, yes, I am unfortunately right about things a lot of the time. Call it a talent for knowing when I'm about to get hurt. A lot.
The obstacle course, as it turned out, wasn't that difficult. It was actually very similar to the course most basic training barracks have set up, complete with nets and scramble walls.
What made this one different however, was the fact that the majority of this course was suspended twenty feet above the pit's pool.
All that stood between the obstacle's and a dip in the watery grave below you, were a series of very thin metal walkways. Walkways that while very grippy, swayed dangerously as you crossed them, dooming you to inevitably fall if you made so much as one misstep.
Needless to say a combination of steady feet, good body control, supreme balance, and complete mental focus was required, to safely navigate the course successfully, and avoid the impromptu swimming lessons.
Mental focus, which was extremely hard to maintain due to the constant threat of a paintball pegging me on any of my limbs, if I slowed from the allowed pace by even a small magnitude.
Yes, as it turns out, her threat of using me as live target practice wasn't a complete hyperbole. And fuck me was she accurate with those little suckers to.
So of course when under the watchful eye of Lock, it came as no surprise to anyone that the results of the first few attempts were less than stellar. It did however surprise a few of the spectators, that I didn't get magically better over the course of the many hours I spent running the dam course.
Apparently being human is a foreign concept to these people.
Three hours, about fifty paintballs to various body parts, and a record three competitions, none of which were even close to fast enough times mind you, and I was all but limping my humiliated ass out of the training room with Lock in tow.
"Oh come on," she chuckled, patting my shoulder ever so patronizing as she walked past me. "I'm sure you will get the hang of it eventually."
"Yah?" I growled out, hobbling after her. "Well, I bet it would have been a lot easier if the person behind the gun wasn't also the best sniper on the fucking planet!"
Flashing me that aggravating, coy smile of hers, she simply shrugged in response before cheerfully making her way towards our next destination, which as it turned out, was not more training facilities but a rather small laboratory.
"Welcome to the Physical Health Monitoring Center," she announced dramatically as we entered, gesturing grandly towards the computer and metal pod that stood in an otherwise bear white room. "Or PHMC for short".
"Actually, it's called the Physical Health Omni Sensor Chamber," came a rather irked voice from behind me. "But how would you know that. It's not like you have been here for years."
A quick one eighty, and I was met with the face of the most stereotypical lab assistant I had ever met.
Tall and lanky, clad in plain black dress pants a fresh white lab coat, and even rocking the old school thick rimmed glasses, this kid looked like he was a fresh graduate of some bigwig medical school. Hell, he even had one of those weird clipboards that you see scientists use all the time in movies.
"I presume, you are Private Drew L .Crawford?" He quipped, barely looking up from his notes while he spoke.
"Um, yes?" I replied, confused as to why he knew who I was, and what he was even doing here. "And you are?"
"Excellent," he continued, ignoring my question completely as he made his way to the computer, and slipping into the chair behind it with a practiced ease.
"Alright, as Lockdown has no doubt already explained to you, I will be your Medical Management Specialist, or if that's too much for you, MMS." He stated almost mechanically as he slowly began to work away on the computer before him. "And in response to your earlier question, my name is Doctor Matt McGonaghue. Now I'll ask you to please remove any wet articles of clothing and step into the pod so we may begin."
Much to his apparent displeasure, I stood rooted in place, waiting patiently for my brain to process exactly what was going on, and figure out what this guy was going on about. MMS? What sorcery had Lockdown forgotten to inform me of?
A tired sigh could be heard from Matt, as he finally took note of my confused expression. "Of course she didn't explain anything, did she?" He muttered, glaring at Lock with obvious distaste. "Why would I ever thing otherwise."
"Alright Drew, allow me to get you up to speed," he stated, swiveling around to stare me straight in the eyes.
"Due to the unstable nature of genetic modification, and the numerous physical changes that will occur during your procedure, it is imperative we maintain a complete log of your entire physical structure and health, so as to minimize any complications with the procedure."
He paused momentarily to ensure I was keeping up with him before continuing on with his explanation. "With this information, we can create an accurate prediction model of how and where the gene modding will have the most effects, and thus help you better prepare for your procedure."
Quickly swinging his chair back around, breaking eye contact and resuming his work on the terminal, he droned on. "We will also use this information to tailor your training and physical structure to better handle the changes. Hence why Lock brought you here after what I hope was only a minor work out."
"Minor. Right." I muttered, glaring at the perpetrator of my pain with clear disdain.
"The machine I'm currently setting up is called an Omni sensor," he continued, undisturbed by my statement. Barely paying me any attention as his fingers went to work on the keyboard in front of him.
"It's basically an XRAY, C.A.T. Scan, ultrasound and molecular imagining module all rolled into one. Thus, it will give us a full digital record of everything about your body, as well as image every part of you, which will then be used to to create a three-dimensional model for our bio engineers to work with."
He finally finished his typing, and turned to me once again. "The imaging can't be done properly with any form of liquid in the way. It messes with the sensors. So now, if you would be so kind, please remove any and all garments that are wet we may begin."
"Uh sure" I blinked, still trying to process exactly what was going on. "Do you have a scrub skirt or something I can use?"
Matt shook his head in response. "No. I do not. And I'm also behind schedule, so can we please hurry this up?"
I glanced down at my soaking wet clothes, before sending Lock my best glare.
"What's the matter Drew?" She teased from her position by the door. "Surely a big, strong man like you wouldn't be embarrassed with little old me seeing what you're literally made of?"
Her shrewd smile only confirmed what I already suspected.
Lesson learned. Never call Lock Ma'am.
Ever.
