"Stand up!", a voice shouted.
Everyone stood out of the chairs, their attention being drawn towards the one who shouted. It was a rough looking woman, with numerous scars running across her arms and face, "We all know why you're here. You're looking to become a Mercenary! The reason why you are lined up here is because you're willing to risk your life for a handful of Digits!"
Her voice calmed and she paced back and forth. Eyes calmly examining them all one at a time. Carefully, as if gauging on whether or not they were a threat. Her hands rested behind her back, "I am a D-ranked Mercenary, code-named Switch. I will be overseeing your tests this evening. Before we begin I must make one thing clear: This is not something for you to get rich quick!
"What you're doing is akin to selling your soul! You will live by the orders of your employer. You will dedicate your life to obeying the orders of your employer. That is the way of a Mercenary, that is what you're signing up for!", she momentarily stopped and scanned them all for their reactions.
"Fifty percent of Mercenaries die in action. Fifteen percent are maimed in action and are forced into an early retirement. Forever crippled by their wounds. Ten percent quit due to the horrors they face, lacking the will to continue. Only a mere five percent make it to a successful retirement! Two percent, and these rating come from the Mercenaries who make it to D rank! The numbers are far more deadly the lower the rank you go!"
She stopped and faced all of them, "If you have cold feet, it is not too late to turn back. There is no shame in stopping here, I would even call you wise. There will be no fame in being a Mercenary. There will be no honor. Only blood, death, and money. So I ask you here: Will you continue?"
One person stepped forward, "I. . . I didn't think it was like this. . ."
Switch merely nodded, "Then you have a head on those shoulders. You can leave through the exit, I assure that you face no judgement from anyone here."
"I'm sorry. . ."
Eron watched as they ran off, or rather he merely glanced at them. He shouldn't concern himself with that. Even if he was a bit concerned.
"A shame that's all that left. However I will not stop you if you wish to continue. Now that you're aware of the hellhole you signed up for I will inform you of the tests you will be going through!"
Eron braced himself, this is where he needed to put in his all!
. . .
"Strength! We don't accept weaklings! You can always grow stronger, but we need durable arms now!"
They were put to their absolute limits. Lifting various heavy weights in strange positions. Testing the muscles across their body and more. Eron felt certain muscles he was sure never existed be stretched. Thanks to his constant completion of odd jobs he was already used to moving about in awkward positions. This was one test he was confident he did well in.
. . .
"Reflexes! If you can't react to a bullet flying past you, you're as good as dead! How fast can you react? Will you move by instinct or by careful thought?"
This test was strange, they seemed to test different forms of reactions. The first one was a small game. Various buttons on a machine would flash in color and he was required to hit them as fast as possible. With the amount of buttons and the distance between them, he struggled to keep up a good pace.
Occasionally an employee would flick a flashlight on and off while yelling, "Gunfire!"
This would occur whenever during the testing. Whether you were on edge or relaxing between tests. Whenever you were flashed you were required to drop onto the ground, no matter what you were doing. It was a stressful thing to have to keep an eye out for.
. . .
"Stamina! How long can you run for your life? How long can you keep your focus about you? On the battlefield no one will let you take a water break!"
The small breaks between tests was incredibly small. It was around five minutes, enough for them to catch their breath. After doing all sorts of intense testing, they were required to do cardio? Such a harsh test, but Eron merely gritted his teeth and endured.
They ran around the track, constantly being timed on their speed. Pacing proved to be pointless, for they continued to make them go faster. A steady acceleration was hard to accomplish. Especially with the fatigue now clinging to their bodies.
. . .
"Can you shoot? Your best partner is none other than the weapon you keep to your side. I'm not asking you to be the next Deadeye, just make sure you can point towards your target!"
Eron had. . . very little experience with shooting. He had an idea of how they operated, but shooting one was a completely different experience. Thankfully the employees gave a quick rundown on how they were operated, and they were given devices meant to simulate using an actual firearm.
. . .
"How well can you think under pressure? You're tired, you're on edge, but you must keep a clear head! Haste leads only to death!"
The final test was a written one. Various odd and frustrating questions were presented to them on paper. Eron could feel the exasperation of the others. Venting it all on the poor pieces of paper. It was always an amusing sight for the employees.
Soon enough the papers were gathered and Switch announced, "Congratulations, you made it through testing. You're free to take a break. We even have some complimentary free water—although it's now room temperature. You'll be getting your results in the estimated time of an hour. Some of you might be pulled for additional questioning."
Eron took a seat and slowly let out a breath. He had gotten through the tests, now he just needed to wait for results!