Chapter 7: Ryan's Trial

The room was dead silent. Finally, one recruit stood up and walked out of the room without another word. Soon, others followed. Ava looked as pale as a sheet of paper. Jack appeared like he was about to throw up.

Caity turned to the man who has been in her dream for weeks already. A sweet smile climbed onto her face as the two stood up and walked out of the room.

"We should find somewhere private to talk."

"Talk? Talk about what?"

"Well, what have you been up to for the last two days?"

Ryan sighed. "Look, don't take it the wrong way, but that's none of your business."

Caity's smile froze on her face. Suddenly, anger replaced the happiness of seeing the man. "Listen to me, Ryan! You don't get to do this to me! I went through hell to impress you! Do you know how many people I had to kill to join Special Forces? The most you could do is spend some private time with me!"

She has already been thrown into a foul mood by the mission, and now Ryan was doing this to her? Why?

Ryan glanced at the girl quietly. A spot of softness appeared in his eyes, but he quickly covered it. "Please, I have something else to do."

"You know what? Suit yourself!" Caity snapped before turning around and running down the hallway. A few other recruits in the room looked at Ryan curiously, but the man ignored the looks as he slowly ventured down back into his own room.

Unlike in military barracks, the dorm rooms for all the recruits were strictly for that recruit. As far as the recruits knew, the instructors would never check the rooms or punish the recruits if things were too messy. This meant the designs of the rooms said a lot about the owners. For most recruits, their rooms were hardly better than pig barns.

Caity's room was a mess when she first came here. Throughout the weeks, the blonde found some time to briefly organize it.

Ryan's room was completely different. His blanket, folded into a perfect rectangular prism. His pajamas were folded into neat piles and stacked on the blankets. On his reading desk, a piece of blank paper and a pen laid there, perfectly parallel.

Ryan slowly laid back on his bed with his eyes closed. He couldn't help but allow his mind to drift back to what happened two days ago. Even he had to agree that was a rough process, but in the end, everything was worth it.

He quietly got up, walked to the desk, and pulled out a laptop from a drawer. He expertly logged on to an online bank website. After typing in the correct username and password, he found himself staring at quite a number in the balance category.

Ryan tilted his head in slight satisfaction.

---

Two days ago, Ryan received a call from his instructor.

"You have done very well in training, Ryan, but real soldiers aren't formed with training alone. They are forged in the flames of the battlefield. That is why you will be deployed on a combat mission against real enemies of the state."

Ryan simply nodded.

And just like that, he was taken to a random military airport by car straight from Eagle's Nest. Eight hours later, the transport plane he was on landed at a foreign military base of operation. Fast forward another two hours, and a stern-looking colonel was giving him a mission briefing.

"The target, Arnold "cut-throat" Rickens, has been identified as a terrorist of the State. He is behind multiple attacks on U.S. soil. We have tracked him down at this location. Your task is to go in and terminate him."

Ryan stared at two pictures. One of a short man with a dark scar across his cheek. Another of a satellite picture of a seemingly rural village.

"I understand, Colonel." Ryan nodded slowly. "But I must ask. What happens if I fail? Will this terrorist go free?"

"I can promise you that will not happen." The colonel reassured. His words were filled with confidence, as if Ryan just said something absurd. "My boys will surround the village after you go in. Even if you fail, they will step in and take care of the situation, but for your sake, I hope you are successful."

"Of course." Ryan knew exactly why. If he failed, this so-called "cut-throat" would probably kill him on the spot. Cut his throat, if you will...

"You have half an hour to get ready. Lieutenant Jones will lead you to your weaponry."

Ryan turned to a tall woman with long blonde hair tied into a ponytail behind her. She looked sweet, and when she spoke, her words were soft. If it wasn't for the camouflage uniform she was wearing, it was nearly impossible to realize she worked in the military.

"Please follow me, soldier."

The two walked down the simplistic hall of the base to the armory, passing multiple uniformed soldiers. Ryan walked quietly, but his guide didn't seem to enjoy the silence. She did her best to initiate a conversation.

"My name is Mary. Mary Jones. What's yours?"

Ryan glanced at her. Before he came over here, he was told by his instructors to ignore any curiosity he met on the mission. Despite the amount of training he got and the people he killed, Ryan still looked like just a normal teenager, and most would find sending a teen on a solo killing mission a bit odd.

"That's classified."

"Oh, come on!" The lieutenant snapped around at Ryan. Her ponytail moving from side to side. Her big blue eyes stared at Ryan. "Really? You know, I am pretty much the secretary of the Colonel. If you really don't want to tell me, I can go ask him."

"Be my guest."

"You need to learn to be nicer to girls." Mary bit her lips as she felt her cheeks burn in embarrassment. Ever since she was in high school, she was always the center of attention. Guys and gals flocked after her. This was especially true after she joined the military. She has never been ignored like this. Would it kill this boy to say more than two to three words?

The two continued their trip in silence. Finally, Mary led Ryan into an armory. Ryan quietly grabbed everything he needed. M4A1 automatic rifle. M19 handgun. Extra magazines. Kevlar vest. Helmet. Night vision goggles. Army knife. He didn't stop until he was armed to the teeth.

When he was finished, he turned back to Mary.

"I'm ready."

---

The low humming of the helicopter blades uttered in the night sky. Ryan and another soldier were in the back of the helicopter as the pilot brought the vessel down to the ground.

"Good luck!" The other soldier nodded at Ryan.

Ryan nodded in return before hopping off the helicopter. As soon as his army boots hit solid ground, he expertly bent over and hid his figure in the tall grass that covered the entire field. There was a reason he was deployed here.

The sound of bugs was distinct in the night. Even with his camouflage jacket, Ryan could still feel the chilling night wind brush through his face, each time ridding him of some of the warmth he had. Ryan didn't get moving at once. First, while he made sure his own figure remained hidden, he reached into his backpack and pulled out a pair of binoculars.

A careful look at the surrounding told him it was unlikely for him to walk into an ambush in the near future. Good.

Ryan started moving. Every few steps, he looked around and made sure there was a cover he could get to within a moment's notice. This was something he learned from his tactical instructor. Before he was replaced, that was.

"The number one thing of surviving is being aware of the surrounding. Sooner or later, you will be ambushed. At that point, the only thing that can save you is if you knew where to take cover behind when the bullets start flying. With any luck, that cover will keep you alive long enough to use your array of skills to fight back."

Ryan kept on moving. It was at the ten-minute mark that he found his destination: a remote village. Yet as he observed it with his binoculars, Ryan realized the defenses were more plentiful than the mission briefing said. Instead of two bodyguards, this Arnold had four men on the perimeter alone. Behind the cover of the house? Who knows? Ryan definitely didn't.

Normally, Ryan would report this back to the Colonel and ask for reinforcement. Two bodyguards were a challenge. Four and above, and things start to get serious, but as his hands reached for the satellite phone, Ryan suddenly changed his mind. One single thought filled his head.

If he called for the mission to abort, perhaps his commanding officers and instructors could be fended off by the argument that there were more enemies than expected, but Ryan knew he couldn't give that same excuse to himself. No matter what he said to himself, the fact was he would be retreating without a fight.

If I take one step back here without making a stand, then I will be taking ten steps back tomorrow. This is unacceptable. I will not fail.

Ryan slid his gloved finger on his phone before pushing it back into his bag. For a full hour, he remained at his position, observing the mansion quietly. He saw two more guards wandering in and out of the house from time to time. Finally, he decided to act.

One of the guards went around a corner. As soon as he was out of the sight of his comrades, a gentle pop echoed through the air. Of course, the guard didn't feel the pop. What he did feel was the bullet that went straight through his head.

One down.

Ryan stood up from a bush 200 meters away. He quietly rested his sniper rifle on the ground before approaching the mansion walls where the guard's body laid. The man's eyes were still open. The casualness on his face didn't even have time to faze before his life was ripped away by the bullet. Ryan had no time to feel sentiment or remorse, not that he had any to feel. All he did was pull the body behind that bush he was hiding in. This minimized the risk of his presence being discovered as much as possible.

Another guard was standing still with his body facing the tallgrass. Ryan sneaked up from behind. The soft rubber soles of his shoes cracked down on the ground. Ryan couldn't help but feel a drop of sweat flowing down his cheeks, but his arms were rock steady. The howling wind helped cover his tracks. With one sudden stride, Ryan grabbed onto the guard from behind by the neck, covered his mouth, and jammed his army knife into the back of the man's heart.

The guard struggled. The sudden burst of pain gave him some extra strength, but Ryan had his throat locked. The human instinct in the guard prompted him to beat on Ryan's arms with all his might, but Ryan held his ground. Within seconds, the lack of oxygen and the knife in his body both kicked in, and the guard felt his strength leaving.

Finally, he stopped struggling.

Two down.

Ryan pulled that guard behind cover as well. He felt the man's pain as he died. His fear. His sorrow. During the brief moment between life and death, the man clung onto life as much as he could, but in the end, death claimed his life nonetheless.

Ryan's move was as relaxed as ever. His eyes, cold. His hands, steady. He turned back and eyed the last two guards. He couldn't take them both out quietly. Unfortunate, yet expected.

The two guards were grouped up, talking about something when they saw a figure suddenly come out from around a corner. Their eyes widened when they saw what was in the man's hand.

Piu. Piu. Piu.

Ryan pulled the trigger to his silencer-equipped pistol repeatedly, with every shot going for the kill. One of the guards was put down before he could even retaliate, but the second one had the chance to pull out his pistol before his end. As he collapsed on the ground, riddled with bullets, he exerted some pressure on his weapon with all his strength.

Bang!

Even Ryan felt his expression change as the unapologetic gunshot rang out. No doubt, it would wake everyone in the mansion. Quickly shooting the second guard in the chest, he quickly moved to the door and planted a stack of plastic explosives there. A ten-second timer bought him enough to get to safety when the door disappeared in an outburst of flames.

Ryan went right for the opening. There was no telling how many armed personnel was left in the room. He had to have the element of surprise on his side if he wanted to claim the victory. As his shoulder ran into the wall of the building, he pulled out a grenade from his belt and tossed it into the room.

M84 stun grenade. A weapon capable of generating flash and sound to knock out those caught in the blast. By itself, it wasn't that deadly, but once the resistance was done, Ryan's arsenal of weapons wouldn't be as nice.

He waited for the familiar sound of the blast to go of before turning over and charging into the breach, but before he could even pull the trigger, he felt something hit him in the chest, punching its way straight through his Kevlar vest.

If he survives this, he would find whoever manufactured this Kevlar and ask him a lot of very serious questions!

That random thought seemed to be his last one, because before Ryan knew it, a wave of electricity exploded from his chest and quickly covered his entire body. Before he could even stop himself, a scream found its way out of his mouth. Any hope of resistance he had disappeared when his body hit the ground and started twitching uncontrollably. His weapons hit the ground in a loud metallic clunk.

Taser round.

Just like that, Special Forces majored Phasewalker Ryan was taken captive.