THE COMMANDER

January 15, 3070

"The threat has been neutralized."

 The distorted voice resonates via the intercom. I gradually lower my weapon and pivot towards my troop. With a subtle raise of my hand, palm facing downward, I signal for them to relinquish their defensive stance. In response, they promptly straighten their posture, mirroring my action, and lowering their weapons in unison.

I nod, and they swiftly remove their masks in one fluid motion. Moving my sniper towards the grey door, I signal for them to exit the training area, and they follow suit. Once they are all outside and seated on the benches surrounding the caged ring, a sound that has become all too familiar now resonates through the intercom.

I crack the muscles on my neck, already anticipating the inevitable. With a push of my shoulders, I assume my stance against the corner of the cage, leaning against the barrier and prepare to continue.

"The Corp Battle will begin in sixty seconds. May victory be yours."

Then it goes deadly silent.

I cannot move my face much because the training period with my troop lasted for four hours and with a mask this thick, the muscles on my face have become stiff and fatigued. The entire uniform is too much if you ask civilians but given our enemies that we train against, it is the best kind that The Lab could had offered.

It's only been seven days since this troop got approved for their final training round and they are doing fairly good. More seven days and they will be all set to guard Section 13 of The Lab. Though that might change because their skills are too good for them to guard the lowest section.

I glance at them, at their eager faces because even I agree, at that level, witnessing your seniors fight in this ring and show their skills is the most exciting part. Been there, completely understand it.

They signal their excitement with a thumbs up, and I reciprocate with a nod, punctuated by firing my sniper rifle towards the closed gate. Their expressions erupt in astonished wows of amazement. I nearly shake my head, momentarily forgetting their youthfulness due to their extensive training and the tough exterior it brings.

Only twenty seconds until the final battle. I will be done with them in five minutes, ten if I have to drop my sniper in the middle, and then we can all go to our base.

Gasps reverberate throughout the ring, mingling with the tense silence that hangs heavy in the air as the awaited pounding against the closed gate starts, sending vibrations rippling through the metal structure. Each impact is a thunderous declaration of the impending danger.

The sound echoes and amplifies, bouncing off the walls of the enclosed arena, creating a cacophony of anticipation and unease that permeates the atmosphere. With each resounding bang, the tension mounts, and the sense of urgency intensifies, as if the very walls themselves are bracing for the inevitable onslaught.

Judging by the aggressiveness, they are Level 2 necrogens who failed to survive. Interesting.

It's been a while since I encountered green eyes.

Every muscle of mine coils with anticipation as the final bleep goes off. I poise the sniper on my shoulder in one fluid motion as the gas around the metallic gate starts to poison the area with its neurotransmitter agonists and pheromones. The potent combination of these chemical compounds aim solely to stimulate the primitive regions of their brains associated with aggression and violence.

There is complete silence. The banging stops on the other side.

I release a breath. The gas is usually emitted after we are told to drop our weapons but given the current situation, I think these necrogens have not been fed for more than a week. And if a second round of gas is released amidst the fight when I am restricted to use my weapon, it will mean only one thing.

Survival of the fittest with total annihilation.

And I am known to be the ultimate annihilator.

The silence is broken as the metallic gates slowly open. The gas surrounding the entrance makes it difficult to see the infectants but I am high on adrenaline and my senses are on high alert which makes it impossible for me to not notice the sound of footsteps.

I take my stance, finally feeling the adrenaline kick in.

The growling gets louder and the view gets more clear now as the smoke slowly subsides.

Then, they emerge from the shadows – the necrogens, their movements jerky and erratic as they shuffle forward. Their pallid, decaying flesh hangs loosely from their skeletal frames and there is no doubt the stench of decay emanating from their twisted forms. I am grateful for my mask.

The only beautiful thing about them is their eyes. Green, hollow eyes, devoid of humanity, fixated on me with an insatiable hunger, while gnarled claws reach out hungrily, eager to rend flesh and bone. With each step, they emit guttural growls and unearthly shrieks, a cacophony of dread that fills the air with palpable menace.

Without hesitation, I take aim, my finger pulling the trigger with meticulous accuracy and gain all of their attention.

The first shot rings out, a sharp crack slicing through the air as my canister finds its mark, felling the necrogen with deadly precision.

Their twisted forms advances towards me with eerie, relentless determination. The speed with which they move is unsettling but nothing surprising.

I continue shooting them down. With each successive shot, I methodically pick off my targets, my movements fluid and precise as I naturally maneuver to maintain a tactical advantage. They are Level 2 and though the gas has definitely increased their aggressiveness, they're still a child's play.

My goal is clear: neutralize all threats before further directives are issued.

Each of my shot is a calculated strike, a testament to the years of brutal training and tests that I underwent to become a Commander. Each movement is second nature to me, as natural as drawing breath.

In this unforgiving arena, there is no room for hesitation, no quarter given to fear. Every decision is made with conviction, every action taken with resolve, for to falter even for a moment could mean the difference between victory and oblivion.

They are a meter away from me because allowing them to come near me will mean one canister for one necrogen and that is a position I don't want to put myself in. I want this over.

The last of the necrogen drop dead at the same time as the voice crackles through the intercom with its commanding tone.

"Drop your weapon."

I drop it and lean against the ring. As the adrenaline subsides, the hoots and cheers of my surrounding gets more audible to me. My eyes find my troop who are all stood and screaming. They clap and I catch some with total stunned expressions. It's a moment of shared triumph and camaraderie, a testament to the admiration forged through rigorous training and shared knowledge.

"The threat has been neutralized. Kindly vacate the training arena."

I pick up my weapon and exit the ring. I beckon my troop who are still in the celebration mode and guide them out of the room. I raise my hand, signalling for them to stop and speak. ""To the base now. Fifteen minutes for personal use including breakfast. At eight, attendance in the seminar room."

"Yes, chief," they say in unison and I nod.

"Fall into formation!"

They align themselves ensuring order and cohesion within the ranks. The shuffle of boots on the ground creates a synchronized rhythm as they step into formation, their movements fluid and deliberate. I inspect their formation, a three-grid structured formation by rank. The first grid, are the highest-ranking cadets, positioned to receive and relay orders efficiently. The rest of them are those who need more extensive training.

Each grid is arranged in columns, with cadets standing shoulder-to-shoulder in tight formation. This arrangement allows for clear communication and swift execution of commands, with the highest-ranking cadets positioned closest to me for direct interaction. 

"Form up, rifle at the ready!," they seamlessly raise their rifles into position, poised and alert for any potential threats.

"Rest your rifles!," they follow my command suit and carefully lower their rifles, maintaining a vigilant stance.

I inspect their stance and once satisfied, my next command allows them to move.

"Move!," they start marching to the base, their synchronized footsteps creating a rhythmic cadence that resonates through the air. Each member of the unit moves with precision, their movements perfectly timed to match those of their comrades. The sight is a testament to their training and discipline, as they move forward uniformly. It is truly a sight that I can never get tired of.

At exactly seven forty-four we reach the base and they stop at the gate.

I move forward, typing in the code and then scanning my iris. The borders of the gate turns green and it opens, allowing us to get inside. I turn to them once we reach the lobby area and glance at the clock. Seven forty-five.

"Disperse!"

Like their ass is set on fire, they basically run to their rooms. As the last of them disappear from my sight, I sigh and move to my room. My favourite place in the world to be honest.

I pass my fellow CORPS with usual greetings and stop by the elevator. And because luck and my deities are always on my side, besides me stands Cole Moretti. We acknowledge each other with a nod. That's civil enough.

The elevator door opens and we get in. He presses the number to our floor.

"I see you are done with your training, Chief," he breaks the silence.

"Session starts in fourteen minutes."

"I understand."

The elevator door opens and we make our way into our shared room. 

"How was your day?," he asks gently and I shake my head.

"I want some peace."

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"Familiarity with this weapon is a given", I lean on the table and look dead in the eye of Cadet 3. "Explain to me the ballistic algorithms for the operation of this ammunition."

He neither blinks nor does he stutters when he answers. "The ballistics algorithms calculate the optimal trajectory for the plasma-based bullets, accounting for factors such as wind speed, distance, and target movement, ensuring unparalleled accuracy."

I nod. "How would you tactically deploy the Raptor Sniper Rifle in a hostile urban environment?"

"A high vantage point to maximize the rifle's range and line of sight. Using the smart targeting optics, I would identify and neutralize high-threat targets first, maintaining constant movement to avoid detection."

"Sit. Cadet 8", I call and he stands, ready to answer. "Movement attracts attention, though."

"It is essential to strike a balance between staying concealed and effectively engaging high-threat targets. One strategy is to employ controlled and deliberate movements, utilizing cover and terrain to minimize exposure while maximizing our offensive capabilities. Although, given that his answer refers to the position at high vantage points, I believe that cover won't be needed."

"Presence of mind. Sit", I appreciate and the corner of his lips tip slightly up.

"SL," he stands and looks me dead in the eye. "Except for the fact that The Lab leans mostly towards Genetic Engineering for the production of the canisters, why was plasma-based ammunition classified to be the best?"

He doesn't miss a beat. "Plasma ammunition consists of superheated, ionized gas that delivers high energy upon impact which can cause severe damage to the target by melting through their bodies. The energy dispersal from plasma rounds can affect a wider area, making it useful against multiple targets. It disrupts the cellular structure of necrogens, which could be vital as necrogens have enhanced regenerative capabilities."

"Regenerative capabilities?", his eyes flashes and I almost smirk. "Which book did you learn it from?"

He composes himself. "No book. I simply guessed it."

"You sounded too sure for that to just be a guess."

"That's what you train us for," he speaks and I raise my brows. He either over-heard the conversation of some CORPS or he snuck into the library's forbidden Section. To be honest, I'll be impressed if he did the latter because clearly he's got the skills if he was able to go unnoticed by six CORPS and twelve cameras.

I decide to not dwell on it much and ask him the most basic question. "What is the weight of this rifle, SL?"

He blinks, his gaze sharpening at the edges, as though discerning my intentions. "8 pounds, Commander."

"Do you think LIDAR and thermal imaging can be integrated to this system?", he blinks again and I glance at the class. They mask their surprise well but not well enough. Parted lips, whispered gasps and round eyes. I bring my attention back to the SL. "Given the weight of this ammunition is not affected."

His shoulders tighten ever so slightly. "Producing these integrated systems at scale while maintaining quality and reliability is technically demanding and costly."

"You answer like how I used to write my papers in high school, son."

I almost chuckle at the memory. "Sit."

He sits, clearly dissatisfied with his answer. Being the Squadron Leader is a significant responsibility, and with that badge comes the expectation of a thorough understanding and knowledge of everything. Failing to answer any question posed by the commander or a CORP could jeopardize the position of an SL. The weight of the role demands constant vigilance and preparedness, leaving no room for uncertainty or hesitation.

"LIDAR and thermal imaging systems require sophisticated sensors and processing units. Miniaturizing these components to fit into a rifle without compromising its balance and handling is a significant challenge. Ruggedization might not be a significant issue given the technology we possess but it still pose a challenge as it is an unexplored path in terms of plasma-based weapons and ammunitions."

Cadet 7 raises his hand and I nod. "The Lab with ViTech has made significant progress in Micro-Electro-Mechanical Systems over their four year collaboration. Why haven't we yet integrated these systems then?"

I hum. "Your question gives me the impression that you purposely did not answer my previous question."

Except for a blink, I don't get much. I have trained one thousand troops and this troop has managed to take my interest. The difference in their personalities with their competitiveness to excel in everything yet maintaining the teamspirit and defending each other has intrigued me. Previous troops showed similar characteristics but there was always a hunger to win from each other. But troop C001 has a hunger to win with each other.

"It just occurred to me."

"I see", I gesture for him to sit, choosing not to question him more on these occurrences he seems to have quite often. Besides me, the SL turns his head to look at Cadet 7 once before staring back at the rifle. Secrets are no surprise but I can say the same about Death.

"The computational requirements for seamless integration remain substantial. There are unresolved issues related to the robustness and reliability of these integrated systems under field conditions, necessitating rigorous testing and validation protocols that are still ongoing."

They all nod and write what they understand on their notepads. Amusement surfaces in my voice with my next words. "Moreover, there are strategic considerations regarding the proprietary technologies and intellectual property developed in conjunction with ViTech. The Lab's collaboration with ViTech is multi-faceted, involving not only technological development but also complex business negotiations and strategic alignments."

This piques everyone's interest. Their eyes light up and I can practically see all the gears turning in their head. They are at the stage of finally becoming a CORP and the excitement that comes with it is something I am aware of and totally understand. I also understand the need to know more about the organization, their endeavors and all the strategies that the cadets hear only through eavesdropping the conversation of the ranked CORPS.

My answer implies that more so than the technical limitation, business is the barrier for The Lab and ViTech to proceed with the integration of such high systems. Everyone loves a little gossip and these men are not immune to it.

"Any questions?", I draw just to watch them bite their cheek. They have to abide by the rule and not ask me questions concerned to things that are outside their curriculum. When there are none, I nod. "The library will be open until seven and I expect a detailed report by seven-thirty."

"Yes, Chief."

Murmurs erupt from the room as soon as I step out of the door and I down the urge to shake my head. Should I hold resentment for The Lab for making these boys go through this or should I thank them for giving me the opportunity of training them? The former is just while the latter is selfish and I am too tired to give a thought on any.