I'm finally back.
Seems a month per chapter is going to be a slightly more common thing sadly, as work is tough and finding the time and energy to write is next to impossible when your up 40+ hours just to make rent.
On the plus side beta reader Xabiar is amazing and makes all my editing problems go away. So big thanks to them!
PS. Go read their stuff. It's awesome.
Right I suppose I should wrap this up. Hope you enjoy and as always remember to review and PM with any comments or stuff.
Cheers
Alex Lee
Wednesday, September 7th, 2024
1400 Hours 31 Minutes 26 Seconds
"What the fuck..."
"Is wrong with me?" She finished, a small smile gracing her lips as she stood and loosened the restraints that bound her wrists. "You know, I was actually beginning to wonder the same thing until about thirty seconds ago."
"And what, pray tell, made you change your mind?"
"You, mostly," she nodded, pointing to the man who had a gun to her head not a second earlier. "I have seen some pretty incredible displays of marksmanship. But this has got to take the cake."
Moving around to her, I took in scene before me. Two large holes in his head. Exactly where I had aimed.
"Your rescue strategy was also quite brilliant," she continued tapping her head a few times. "I'm guessing your mental mate decided to come out and play?"
I chose to simply nod in response. She was driving towards the point of all this. I could feel it.
"Well, that settles it then," she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "Two things were learned via this exercise. Firstly, I think your weird voice thing is most likely triggered by adrenaline. And secondly, you refuse to go all in on an exercise unless there is some element of danger involved."
I was speechless for exactly three seconds.
"You risked your life... For that?!"
I'm pretty sure people heard me, from as far back as the control room. Lord knows that she deserved ever iota of it though.
Clasping my hands in front of me, I walked right up to her. "Voice thing aside, Lock... If you wanted me to run things at one hundred percent... You could have, oh I don't know... Just fucking asked me to!"
The gears in her brain could literally be seen screeching to a halt as my words registered.
"Ah." She began. "Yes but... You see I thought... That... Fuck..."
"Yah," I nodded. Glaring at her for good measure before turning to retrieve my weapon. "It's really that simple sometimes."
Stooping to grab my pistol from the ground, I made sure to double-check the chamber, before re-holstering it and moving back to Lock.
"That is part of trusting someone," I sighed. "Something which it seems we are going to have to work on."
Thankful it looked like my words had gotten through to her this time, as she seemed somewhat apologetic upon my return.
"I don't suppose saying sorry would suffice, or make up for this?" She mused, biting her lip slightly.
"Not a chance," I agreed, a feral grin morphing onto my face as a thought came to mind. "Though I can think of one or two thing you could do to make things up..."
Wednesday, September 7th, 2024
1930 Hours
Roughly five hours, a few rounds from my own paint rifle, and a healthy helping of alcohol later, found Drew and I sitting comfortably in my favourite booth, way back in the far corner of the XCOM bar.
Both of us were unsurprisingly physically and mentally exhausted, though despite this, neither one of us made a move to leave; more or less content with outcome of the situation we had found ourselves in, and willing to at least entertain the other for a little while longer.
Clink
I watched on silently as he placed his now empty glass back onto the table. A long resigned sigh escaping him, as he rolled his shoulders and finally allowed the liqueur to work on relaxing his no doubt tense mussels.
"So. You were not in any actual danger the whole time," he mused. "Kind of explains why you were so calm the entire time."
"What? You really think I'm dumb enough to risk my life so carelessly?" I joked, draining my glass in one swig.
"Honestly? Sometimes you make me wonder," he teased right back. "Though I can't really blame you for tricking me. I haven't exactly been the easiest person to trust lately."
I snorted, amused by his statement simply because of how sardonic he seemed to the whole thing.
"No. That you are not." I agreed with a stark chuckle while flagging the bartender for another round. "Though I should really be the one to shoulder the blame for this one."
The response earned me a small snort in return. "Oh, really? What would have ever made you think that?"
The sheer amount of sarcasm he was able to instill into his voice was impressive. Though I could have done without the added eye roll.
"I did say I was sorry," I glared back at him. "And as requested, you got a few drinks out of me. So can we put this one in the past now?"
A small shrug, and a cheeky grin was the only response I got, as the bar keep once again made an appearance. Replacement drinks in hand.
As soon as she was out of ear shot whoever, a small chuckle escaped my partner, as he placing his rum and coke down in front of him. "Honestly, you were forgiven after the first round. Just don't forget what I told you, and things will only get better from here."
"If I need something, just ask." I repeated with a nod. Taking a small sip from my glass in return. "Though the same thing can be said for you. Trust is a two way street."
"Hey. I trust you. Why do you think I went through with the whole hostage situation in the first place?" He spread his hands unexpectedly.
"Well, yes," I agreed. "However, your actions afterwards was a tad bit over zealous..."
A feral grin broke out over his face, as he no doubt relived the glorious memories of his vengeance.
"In my defense," he grinned. "I'm still under the effect of increased hormone levels. Plus I've wanted to do that to you for a really long time..."
I shot him a pointed stare in reply. "What? Chase me around the obstetrical course with my own paint rifle?"
"Pretty much." He nodded.
"Yes well, don't expect it to happen ever again," I grimaced. "Revenge plots are extremely immature, and I'm honestly surprised we are not getting reprimanded for our behaviour this instant."
"Ah but we are not, so it must be fine. Right?"
"If I get kicked out because of you... Your ass is mine." I growled, taking a small sip of my drink to hide the small smile I wore.
Drew at least had the decency to look somewhat apologetic when he mouthed sorry to me in response. Though the small smile that still creased his mouth for just and instant said otherwise...
A comfortable silence took over, as he and I slowly sipped our respective drinks. Both content to let our minds wandering to and fro as the alcohol began to work its way through our systems.
Surprisingly, it was Drew who broke the silence first.
"Lock? What the hell are we doing here?"
"Mm?" I glanced over to find my once happy and cheerful partner, looking like the weight of the world was suddenly upon him. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, why are we sitting here relaxing? Shouldn't we be training more? Getting ready for missions? I don't know, doing something?" His hands were fidgeting nervously with every word he spoke. Almost like he was sitting on a live wire or something.
The question did catch me off guard a little.
I hadn't honestly given it much thought since his training started. And in a way he was right. It had been a while since I had been on a real mission. Surely something had to have come up that was worthy of my attention these past months...
Though, after everything these past weeks had thrown his way, he deserved a little bit of cheering up, rather than a dose of cold hard reality. Lord knows we would be getting enough of that soon enough.
"With this much alcohol in our systems?" I laughed. "Not a chance. Besides, you have been pushing yourself pretty damn hard these last few weeks. You deserve one somewhat normal night."
"I guess." he conceded. Though he did not look convinced in the least.
"Also I have a friend coming by any second. So sit tight. He's going to be helping you get ready for your first mission as well."
That got his attention pretty dam quick.
"Really? Who is it?"
"Him." I smirked, pointing over his shoulder.
Him.
Otherwise known as Staff Sargent Shane Weaver. Lockdown's Second in Command, and ironically enough, second longest serving member of team Lockdown.
I had met him briefly before, when he and the rest of the squad stopped by to see Lock. Apparently they were heading out on another assignment. A scouting mission if I recall. Operation Black Dawn. It was the final mission the squad would run without Lock at the helm, as after its completion, Lock would returning, and I would be join, the active members roster.
"Long time no see," he nodded, taking a seat next to Lock, before flagging the bar keep down. "For what it's worth, congratulations on surviving, and welcome to the squad."
"Thank you," I nodded back. "I trust your mission was successful?"
A small snort was his initial answer.
"No one died, and we got the info we needed. Call that what you will."
"A success it is then." I smiled, raising my drink in salute to his victory.
A small lapse of silence entrapped the table, as both Lock and Shane repositioned themselves in the booth, and the barkeep bough Shane his drink.
A scotch on the rocks, if I had to guess.
"Ah," he sighed blissfully, sinking back into his seat with each sip. "That's more like it."
I waited patiently for him to settle, before daring to open my mouth again.
"So Lock tells me you're going to be helping me," I ventured, sipping my drink casually as I spoke.
"Help?" He chuckled back, elbowing Lock in a seemingly good nature way. "Lord knows I can't even help myself. Let alone you."
"Ok?" I blinked. "So then what will you be doing then?"
A long sigh was his only response as he reached for his drink again.
"Maybe give him a little time to relax first," Lock winked at me. "The old geezer isn't used to youthful exuberance like I am."
"Bah. It's not the exuberance. It's the total lack of manners!" Shane exclaimed, pointing at me. "The kid has no idea who I am, and his first question is all business!"
His hands creased the bridge of his nose as he continued. "I mean really, Lock. Just what have you been teaching this young man?"
Lock was in the motion of answering when I raised my hand to silence her. "Lock has been doing an excellent job in teaching me everything I need to know, to hopefully survive the battlefield. And while I do agree I should have asked about you, I felt no need to, as I already know enough information on you to get past the small talk."
A stark laugh left Shane as he raised a quizzical eyebrow at me. "A peppy little shit aren't you? But I'm calling you on that. You could not have learned that much about me, in the ten seconds we talked last."
Shane Ace Weaver. Rank of Staff Sergeant. Nationality is Scottish. Height and weight clocking in at six foot five, and two hundred and six pounds. He is currently fifty one years of age, with most of those years being in the military. He currently has participated in approximately twelve major operations; at least four of which have been long term scouting and reconnaissance missions. Specialty is mid range rifle...
"and pistol play. Current position is second in command, for Squad Lockdown." I finished, locking my hands in front of me. "Did I miss anything?"
...
"Hmm" He saluted me with his drink. "Well now. You've done your research I'll give you that."
I shrugged back, idly sipping my drink during the break in talking. "What can I say. I like to know who is going to have my back out there."
"That and he was ordered to study all of our files by the Commander himself." Lock pipped up from her seat. Grinning evilly at me.
"Ah," Shane nodded and placed his drink down in front of him. "That does seem like something he would do."
"He also wants us to start team training asap," she muttered. "You know. To integrate the rookie and such."
"Great. And let me guess, I'm on babysitting duty?"
"Nope. All me this time," she nodded back. "Drew here is going to be our second set of eyes."
Knocking on the table a few times I brought their attention back to me.."Mm you know I'm right here, yah?"
"Yes." Shane nodded, before turning back to Lock. "I just don't care."
"Ignore him," Lock chuckled, eyeing my perplexed expression. "He's just grumpy."
"Easy for you to say," Shane rumpled sipping his drink. "You didn't see the fortress the enemy is building."
The smile immediately left Locks face at his words. "That bad huh."
"Thing makes a Las Vegas casino look like a fucking coffee shop," he nodded. "And lord knows we are going to have to assault it at some point if we are to win."
"Shit..." Lock muttered glancing my way. "Best we start training asap then."
"Speaking of which," he gestured drink in hand towards me. "What can you tell me of our new recruit here? Other than the fact he is a tough son of a bitch."
"He's fast. Accurate. Prone to emotional outbursts since the operation. Has a full set of gene mods, and no psionic abilities," she replied simply. "Though he has yet to master, or hell, even use all of the mods."
"Sounds familiar," he chuckled. "I'm guessing you want my help with the visual mods?"
"Correct. Though he has proven to be pretty good in a pinch, so it shoulder be as hard for you as last time," she agreed. "Also let the team know that training begins at o seven hundred tomorrow."
"Roger that," he nodded, finishing his drink in one last swig. "Best get some rest then."
A small smile creased Locks face as he stood. "Got that right. Night old man."
"Cheeky brat." I heard him, mutter as he walked away.
...
"Well..." I chuckled, downing the rest of my drink. "He seems nice."
I was back in the lab.
Restraints firmly around my body, keeping me in place as Matt ran his final checks.
"Don't worry Drew," he laughed. "You will only be in there for a few days this time."
The tank. The goddamn tank again.
"Let me out!" I hollered, thrashing back and forth as MELD started to fill the tank once more. A small spark of white caught my eye as I worked to get out of my restraints.
Lock gazed onward with a look few pure apathy etched onto her face.
"Lock!" I screened helplessly as the MELD reached my ankles "Help me! Don't let them do this again!"
Her expression didn't change even an iota. She just continued to gaze inwards. Dead to the world.
The MELD reached my waist as the first tears finally fell from my eyes.
"Please!" I screeched helplessly. "Not again! Anything but this!"
"Subject in contact. Begin the procedure."
"No!"
I awoke with a muffled scream.
The tank and MELD melting away into the darkness as my eyes drank in the small room I lived in.
No tank. No Lock. Nothing. Just my desk and bed. Nothing more and nothing less.
A small sigh of relief escaped me, as I let gravity take me. My sweat covered back slamming back into the drenched sheets of the bed beneath me with a wet smack.
"Fuck." I muttered to my empty room as the memories of my time in the tank flew by uninhibited. Shivers coursing through my body as the feelings began to surface once more.
The feeling of burning alive. Of my own body bring torn apart. Bones breaking.
"No." I breathed. Clamping down on the memories. Halting them in their tracks. "No more."
My feet hit the floor, and moments later I was out the door and down the hall.
I didn't know where I was going or what my plan was. All I knew was that I needed a distraction. Something physical. Something for me to take my frustration on.
A smile creased my face as I quickly changed directions and headed to the sparring rooms. Or more specifically the punching bags.
Minutes later found me alone, in a sparring room, with the door closed.
Settling into a boxing stance, I lined up my first shot and let lose on the bag.
Small taps and jabs got my body warmed up to the exercise, as I eased my way up. Uping the power with each passing minute.
Soon, punch after punch was rained down onto the leather, as the fear and raw emotion I felt began to seep out into the activity.
Soon enough the bag was practically lifting off the ground with the force of each blow.
Faster and faster, the blows kept connecting. Shot after shot into the bag as it was knocked around left, right, left, right.
The sheer physicality of the beating was intense. I barely noticed my hands as they began to tear. Blood soon coating the unprotected knuckles of my hand.
The physical pain only driving me further and further until I finally let loose with a full power side kick.
A vicious snarl escaped me as I felt my leg connect fully with the bag.
The bag itself almost exploded. The hinges breaking as the bag was flung across the room. Lining and foam exploded outwards, like confetti during a parade.
Silence ensued as my mind finally caught up to the events that had unfolded.
Sweat and blood coated my body. My breathing was heavy and laboured. The sheer amount of energy I had expended, had all but diminished what little fuel I had left in the tank.
I felt my body literally collapsed to the soft mats bellow. Content with just resting for a little before returning to my room.
