Denver, day 2
.
.
.
The battlefield was eerily quiet as Jack led his team of eight men into the maze of concrete walls and narrow alleys. The tension was palpable, the air charged with the anticipation of the unknown. His eyes scanned their surroundings, every step deliberate, every corner a potential trap.
He raised his hand in a closed fist, signaling his team to stop. "Hold," he said, his voice low but commanding. He crouched, his gaze darting to the map in his head, the one that no longer matched what he was seeing.
"This isn't the layout we were briefed on," Jack muttered, half to himself. He turned to the recruits, their faces a mix of confusion and unease. "Does this look familiar to anyone?"
The men exchanged glances, shaking their heads. Morales, a young with a nervous edge, finally spoke. "No, sir. We've never trained on this layout." During the briefing they had agreed on not using any ranks or official titles, because the team was ragtag of persons with different backgrounds, Jack had already found out. The General hadn't only given him inexperienced men – but they came from different groups, different training stages and had never seen each other before today. That was a real-life demonstration for an inter-service team, thrown together without any clear training standards.
Jack's mind raced. The general was playing games, that much was clear. A new layout. A team cobbled together out of the blue. No clear mission target other than 'get the other's flag and defend your own' with an approximate location of the enemy's headquarters. "Alright. We retreat to a defensible location. Hoffman, on point. Morales, rear guard."
Audrey stood in the command room, her arms crossed tightly as she watched the live feed from the bodycams flicker across the multiple monitors. Her focus was locked on one particular screen—the one broadcasting from Jack's perspective.
His voice came through the speakers, calm and authoritative. Despite the situation he was in—a surprise exercise with a thrown-together team—his voice sounded calm.
"Clever move," the general beside her commented, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Already on the defensive. But not exactly the strategy of a leader who trusts his team."
Heller grunted in acknowledgment, his sharp eyes never leaving the screens. "We'll see."
Audrey glanced at her father, her expression carefully neutral, but inside, her emotions churned. Watching Jack in his element was equal parts thrilling and nerve-wracking. The camera's shaky movement gave her a glimpse of his surroundings—the looming concrete walls, the narrow corridors that screamed ambush. It felt too real, too close. His team was where they started from: their 'home-base', the place where their flag was.
"Jenkins, get to that roof and secure the northern square. Green, get to the second floor of the blue house and stay in visual contact with Jenkins. Secure the entrance road. "
"Yes, sir," came the unanimous reply.
Jack glanced at his watch. Time was ticking, and they needed to move on the offensive. "Hoffman, Morales, you're staying here. Protect the flag at all costs. The rest of you, on me. We're moving out."
Jack led the remaining four men along the eastern edge of the field, where he suspected resistance would be lightest. The terrain was tight, the alleys narrow, and every corner seemed to hide a new threat. As they moved, a group of unarmed figures entered the scene—civilians.
Jack raised his fist, stopping the group again. "Hold your fire!" he whispered into his comm. "These could be combatants. Eyes on them, but no one pulls the trigger unless under attack."
The team moved cautiously, the civilians weaving between buildings, seemingly oblivious to the soldiers who hid their movements. They caught sight of the opposing team moments later, taking out two enemy soldiers while losing one of their own in the firefight.
When they reached the area where the enemy flag should have been, there was nothing.
Audrey's eyes flicked between the bodycam feeds as Jack's team reached the supposed location of the enemy flag. The tension in the room was palpable, but when the camera revealed nothing but an empty clearing, she felt her heart sink. Jack's voice crackled through the speakers.
"There's no flag," he said, his tone sharp but measured. "Jenkins, Hoffman, status report. Anything on your end?"
"Negative," Morales replied. "No movement yet. We're holding the base."
In the command room, Heller leaned forward, his sharp gaze fixed on the monitors. "General," he said, his voice edged with irritation, "There's no flag at their objective?"
The general smirked, his arms crossed as he leaned casually against the console. "Exactly. There's no flag. That's the challenge."
"Challenge?" Heller repeated, his voice rising. "What kind of challenge is that? You've sent half their team on a wild goose chase. Meanwhile, the other team can throw their entire force at the home base. That doesn't sound like a game they can win."
The general chuckled, clearly unfazed by Heller's frustration. "This isn't a game. That's the whole point. This is the way how war is: Intelligence is often wrong, objectives change, and you don't always have the luxury of a level playing field. Team Green is being trained to adapt and think under pressure. Winning isn't the objective here—decision-making is."
Audrey's jaw tightened, her eyes narrowing as she watched Jack regroup with his team, clearly trying to make sense of the situation. "So what happens now?" she asked, her voice laced with frustration. "Nine men from Red charge their base while half of team Green wander around looking for something that doesn't exist?"
"Exactly," the general said with a shrug. "Let's see how long it takes for them to figure it out—or for the rest of their team to hold out under pressure. Either way, it's a learning experience."
Heller's face darkened. He wasn't happy with this setup.
The general was self-assured, certain of victory. "It's exactly the kind of thing they'll face in real combat."
Audrey felt her nails dig into her palms as she watched the screens. Jack's voice came through again, calm but commanding, as he reassessed the situation.
Jack crouched behind cover, his mind working furiously. This wasn't just an unfamiliar layout—it was a complete setup. Either the enemy had moved their flag in violation of the rules, or it was never there to begin with.
"No flag," he muttered, scanning the area. He turned to his team, his expression hard. "This is a setup. Either they've hidden their flag or there isn't one at all."
The team exchanged uneasy looks. One of them spoke up, his frustration evident. "Can they do that, sir? Isn't that against the rules?"
Jack's lips pressed into a thin line. "This is war. Grow up."
He paused, considering their options. "We're switching to defense. Get back to the home-base via the eastern block. Expect to get the enemy team from behind."
Audrey couldn't suppress the faint smile tugging at her lips as Jack's voice came through the speakers: "This is war. Grow up." He'd seen through the general's manipulations almost instantly and pivoted his team's strategy without hesitation.
Her admiration even grew as Jack ordered Jenkins and Hoffman to abandon their defensive positions at the home base and move to elevated sniper points. The decision was bold, stripping their flag of direct protection but increasing their strategic advantage.
The monitors flickered with rapid movement as Jack's half of Team Green advanced. From the bodycams, Audrey could see them navigating the maze-like terrain, their footsteps light, their movements methodical. Then, suddenly—visual contact. She watched how Jack told his team to lay low, hide and who would aim at who. On three.
Team Green engaged Team Red from behind, their coordinated fire catching the enemy completely unaware. On the monitors, Audrey saw three of the Red soldiers drop, the remaining members scrambling to cover. Jack's voice rang out, sharp and decisive, rallying his team to press the advantage.
"Push them! Split their lines! Hoffman- curtain fire!" Jack barked. His commands were precise, cutting through the chaos.
Audrey's pulse quickened as she tried to follow the action on the various feeds. The rapid gunfire echoed in the command room as Team Red struggled to regroup. They were now fighting on two fronts, trapped between Jack's assault and the sniper fire from Morales and Hoffman. The Red team's coordination was crumbling.
Heller leaned forward, his brows furrowed in concentration. "It's turning into a slugfest now," he remarked. "Down to who has more ammunition."
The battle was devolving into chaos as rifles clicked dry, the last desperate rounds fired into the cacophony of simulated war. One by one, soldiers from both teams dropped out, their feeds cutting to black as their simulated kills were logged. Audrey's fists tightened at her sides as she saw Jack's men transition to their sidearms. The sharp, staccato bursts of the rifles were replaced by single shots, now and then. Well placed, because no-one had a lot of shots left.
Only six combatants had remained—three from each side.
The tension in the command room was electric. Every operator's eyes were glued to the screens, even the general's smirk fading into a tight-lipped concentration. Heller leaned toward him, his voice low but edged with authority. "How much further do you want to take this, General?"
Matheson shrugged, attempting to mask his discomfort with nonchalance. "Let's see how it plays out," he replied, though his tone lacked its earlier confidence.
Audrey, unable to suppress the sting, spoke up. "Does team Red also have an advantage in ammunition?", she asked, and her question alone was an insult to the General.
The room went quiet. Matheson's expression froze for a fraction of a second, a flicker of uncertainty flashing across his face. He recovered quickly, his smirk returning, but it didn't reach his eyes. "No. It's not about ammunition, Ms. Raines. It's about adaptability."
Audrey didn't respond, but she didn't need to. She turned back to the screens, her focus narrowing to Jack's bodycam.
Jack moved through the buildings that were painted with markers from earlier exercises. His sidearm was heavy in his hand, but he knew it was useless—he was out of ammunition. He'd taken down one of the Red soldiers moments ago, but it had cost him his last few rounds. Now, every step he took was a gamble, every corner a potential death trap. There wasn't much he could do anyway. He was hoping the other two members of his team who had 'survived' up to now would reach the home-base and secure the flag. He was still on the other side of the open square – he couldn't do much from here.
He rounded a corner, and suddenly, there he was—a SEAL from Team Red, crouched in the shadows, mere feet away.
The soldier spun around, his rifle raised, but he didn't fire. Both men froze, their eyes locking. Jack leveled his handgun at the man.
The SEAL's expression hardened, his sharp gaze darting between Jack's eyes and the barrel of the gun. They both knew the rules of engagement: no prisoners. If Jack's gun was loaded, the SEAL was already dead. But if it wasn't…
The SEAL's lips twitched in a faint smirk. "If you were able to shoot, you'd have done it by now," he said, his voice low and gravelly.
Jack didn't flinch. His gaze remained steady, his breathing controlled, the bluff impenetrable. "You, too," he replied coolly. They were both out of ammunition.
The SEAL shifted his weight subtly, his hands gripping the empty rifle like a club. Jack caught the movement but didn't react, his weapon unwavering. The seconds stretched into an eternity.
Then, the SEAL launched forward, his rifle swinging like a baseball bat. Jack dodged to the side at the last possible moment, the weapon connecting with his shoulder. The two collided in a burst of raw energy, grappling for dominance in the confined space.
They lunged at each other, the fight immediate and ferocious.
Audrey's heart pounded as she watched the fight unfold on the screen. Every strike, every counterattack, felt like a blow to her own nerves. She clenched her fists, her concern for Jack's safety overshadowing her anger at the setup.
Jack stumbled but recovered quickly, delivering a powerful strike to the man's midsection. The SEAL doubled over, but only for a moment. He surged forward again, forcing Jack into the ground. The bodycam feed jolted wildly, capturing only flashes of movement, grunts of exertion, and the scrape of boots on sand.
Audrey's hands were pressed tightly to her mouth as she watched, her heart racing. The chaos on the screen was almost unbearable, but she couldn't tear her eyes away.
"Exercise complete. Team Green holds the flag," the operator's voice crackled over the speakers. Jack and his opponent were still unaware that whatever they were fighting over, it didn't matter anymore.
Heller stood, turning to Matheson with a grim expression. "End this now. That's enough."
Matheson hesitated, clearly reluctant to relinquish control, because he would have wanted to see his SEAL beat the shit out of that DoD guy who had dared to challenge him yesterday, but the weight of Heller's authority was undeniable. He gave a curt nod, signaling for the simulation to be terminated.
The SEAL had Jack in a firm chokehold. As the signal came, the soldier hesitated, then raised his hands in surrender. Jack collapsed onto the ground, breathing heavily. For a moment, he lay there, exhaustion written across his face.
Audrey's chest tightened as she watched him on the screen. Relief washed over her, but her concern remained. A member of Jack's team appeared, offering a hand. Then suddenly, the feed stopped.
Heller turned to Matheson, his expression sharp. "General, I think today's exercise proved something important."
Matheson folded his arms, trying to mask his unease. "And what's that, Mr. Secretary?"
"That inter-service comparability is not only possible but essential," Heller said evenly. "A retired Army Captain led an uncoordinated, mixed-unit team to match—and ultimately win against—a SEAL team under impossible conditions. That tells me one thing: the potential for cross-branch compatibility is there."
Matheson's posture stiffened, but he maintained his smirk. "With respect, Secretary, the exercise wasn't about winning. It was about adaptability under adverse conditions."
Heller tilted his head slightly, his gaze unwavering. "Adversity is fine, General. But we've just demonstrated that the lack of standardized training protocols across branches is not a real obstacle. That's exactly why the Congressional initiative to align training standards needs to move forward."
Matheson's jaw tightened, but he offered no rebuttal. He had wanted to make a different example. The silence in the room was deafening, the weight of Heller's words hanging in the air.
Audrey stole a glance at her father, feeling a swell of pride. For the first time during this ordeal, he had drawn a line, standing firm against the general's bluster and advocating for the Congressional initiative—Jack's project.
Her gaze flicked back to the now-dark screens, her mind replaying the intense scenes she'd just witnessed.
As her father continued talking to the General, Audrey glanced at the blank monitors again, knowing those images of Jack would stay with her for a long time. It was one thing to hear him talk about losses, about past missions, to hear him grease over the gritty details and telling her about the personal fallout of all this. But it was a totally different thing to see him in action.
.
.