Alex couldn't shake the chill from those files, like they'd wormed their way under his skin and refused to leave. He sat on the edge of his bunk, staring at the USB stick in his palm, its tiny plastic shell holding secrets that felt too heavy for something so small. Successor. Prototype. The words bounced around his head, stirring up a mess of anger and fear he didn't know how to untangle. Part of him wanted to smash the thing, to pretend none of this was happening, but another part—the curious, reckless bit—knew he had to dig deeper. What if his parents had known? What if they still did?
The dorm buzzed with the usual morning racket. Jax was already up, doing push-ups on the floor, grunting like he was fighting off an invisible army. Mia hovered over her workbench, her fingers flying across wires and screens, that neon hair of hers catching the light like a firefly in a jar. She was laughing at something Jax said, her voice light and easy, the kind that made you forget the world was falling apart. Lila was gone—early sniper practice, probably—leaving Alex with a hollow spot in his chest where her questions from last night still echoed.
He pocketed the USB, his gut twisting. The system's latest demand hung in his mind like a bad hangover: sabotage Mia's drone to slow down the squad's next move. Reward some fancy infiltration trick, failure a dance class he'd never live down. It was getting harder to ignore how these "missions" chipped away at him, turning friends into targets. Mia, of all people—she'd been the first to believe in him, back when he was just the klutz with famous parents.
"Hey, space cadet," Mia called, waving him over. "Come check this out. I upgraded Stinkwing last night. She's gonna rain hell on Delta's breakfast tomorrow."
Alex wandered over, forcing a smile that felt too tight. The drone sat on her bench, sleek and humming, its little propellers whirring like it was eager for trouble. Mia's eyes sparkled as she explained the new mods—extra range, silent mode, a payload that could switch from stink bombs to smoke screens. She was so proud, her hands gesturing wildly, like the drone was her kid or something. Watching her, Alex felt a pang sharp as a knife—guilt mixed with something softer, like missing someone who was right there.
"Looks killer," he said, his voice coming out rougher than he meant. "You think it'll hold up in a real scrap?"
She punched his arm lightly. "Better than you in water, mermaid boy." They both laughed, but his came out hollow. He reached for a loose wire, pretending to fiddle, while his mind raced. The system nudged him: do it now, slip in the glitch. His fingers hovered, heart pounding like it wanted out.
But then Mia leaned in, her face serious all of a sudden. "You okay? You've been... I don't know, distant. Like something's eating at you."
Alex froze, the wire slipping from his grip. Her concern hit him hard, stirring up that mess inside—fear of losing them, anger at the system for forcing his hand, a weird ache for the simple days when failing a drill was his biggest worry. "Yeah, just... stuff with my folks' old stories. Vortex crap. Makes me wonder if we're all just pieces in someone else's game."
She nodded, her expression softening. "We're not pieces, Alex. We're the squad. Whatever's bugging you, we got your back." She clapped him on the shoulder, turning back to the drone.
In that moment, he couldn't do it. He let his hand drop, the sabotage unfinished. The system would punish him, sure, but right now, that felt better than breaking her trust. He mumbled something about grabbing food and slipped out, the dorm door clicking shut behind him like a judgment.
Training Turmoil: Cracks in the Team
The training grounds were alive with the squad's usual energy, sunlight glinting off mock targets and laser grids. Grimshaw barked orders from the sidelines, his voice like gravel under boots. "Move like you mean it! Vortex won't wait for you to tie your shoes!"
Jax charged through an obstacle course, smashing dummies with glee, while Mia tested her drone, sending it zipping overhead to drop practice flares. Lila was at the range, her shots precise as heartbeats, each one a reminder of her quiet strength. Alex joined in, his body moving on autopilot—dodging beams, scaling walls—but his thoughts wandered, replaying the files, Mia's words, the system's looming threat.
During a break, Lila pulled him aside, her rifle slung casually but her eyes intense. "You bailed on sabotaging Mia's toy?" she asked, voice low. How did she know? The bug—he'd forgotten about it in the rush.
He sighed, leaning against a crate, the rough wood biting into his back. "Couldn't. Felt wrong." Admitting it brought a rush of relief, mixed with worry about what came next.
She studied him, her face a mix of frustration and something warmer, like understanding peeking through clouds. "You're playing a dangerous game, Alex. Whatever this is—secrets, doubts—it's pulling you apart. And us with you."
Her words stung, unlocking a flood of feelings he'd shoved down: loneliness in the crowd, the thrill of his new edge clashing with the fear of losing himself. "I don't want to drag you down," he admitted, voice cracking a bit. "But I can't stop. Not until I know the truth."
She stepped closer, her hand brushing his arm, sending a spark through him. "Then let us help. Before it's too late."
Before he could respond, Grimshaw's whistle split the air. "Back at it! Next drill—henchman sim. Vortex's goons won't play nice."
As they geared up, the system pinged a warning: delay penalty incoming. But for the first time, Alex felt a spark of defiance, fragile but real. The squad formed up, Mia's drone whirring overhead, Jax cracking jokes, Lila at his side. Whatever came next—a new lead on Vortex, or the system's revenge—he'd face it with them. Or try to, anyway.
The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the field, mirroring the ones in his heart. Truth was out there, but so was the cost. And Alex was starting to wonder if he could afford it