The debriefing room was cold and sterile, its fluorescent lights buzzing faintly above the rows of recruits seated at metal desks. Ethan sat rigid in his chair, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the table. Across from him, Elise Laurent stared straight ahead, her face pale, her eyes fixed on a crack in the wall.
At the far end of the room, Seraphina Vale stood with her hands clasped behind her back. Beside her, Cassandra Drake leaned against a monitor, her jaw tight and her eyes locked on the recruits.
"Do any of you understand what failure means?" Seraphina said, her voice sharp and cold. "Failure isn't just a lost mission. It isn't just a tarnished record. Failure in our world means body bags. It means grieving families. It means global consequences."
She began walking slowly down the aisle between the desks, her heels clicking against the polished floor.
"Your objective was simple. Infiltrate, secure the drive, and exfiltrate undetected. And yet, alarms were triggered, lives were lost, and the drive remains in enemy hands."
She stopped directly beside Marcus, her piercing eyes boring into him.
"Wren. You acted recklessly. You rushed the objective without assessing the risks."
Marcus's jaw twitched, but he said nothing.
Seraphina moved to stand in front of Ethan.
"And you, Cross. You hesitated. Your instincts saved your team from a trap, but hesitation in the field can cost lives. Remember that."
Ethan nodded stiffly, his throat dry.
Seraphina stepped back, surveying the room. "This was your first mission. Some of you showed promise. Others… showed weakness."
She turned and walked towards the exit. "Dismissed."
The recruits sat frozen until Cassandra spoke softly. "Get out. Now."
Chairs scraped against the floor as recruits filed out in silence, their faces etched with exhaustion and shame.
The academy courtyard was draped in the cold light of the moon. Ethan sat on a stone bench, elbows on his knees, staring at the gravel beneath his boots. His tactical vest and gloves lay beside him, still stained with mud and blood from the mission.
A shadow moved behind him.
"You should've stayed low, Cross."
Ethan looked up to see Marcus Wren leaning casually against a nearby pillar. His uniform was still perfectly pressed, but there was a faint bruise forming on his jaw.
"Is there something you need, Wren?" Ethan asked flatly.
Marcus smirked. "I need you to realize that you don't belong here. You're a street rat playing hero. You got lucky tonight, but next time… next time your luck will run out."
Ethan stood slowly, his fists clenching at his sides.
"You think I don't know that?" Ethan said, his voice low. "You think I'm not replaying every second of that mission in my head? The guard I had to shoot? The chaos you caused when you rushed in without thinking?"
Marcus stepped closer, his smirk fading. "Watch your mouth, Cross."
The tension snapped like a wire pulled too tight. Ethan lunged, grabbing Marcus by the collar and slamming him against the pillar.
"You want to blame someone for that mess, Wren? Look in a mirror."
Marcus shoved Ethan back, and the two recruits stood chest-to-chest, their faces inches apart.
"Enough."
The voice was sharp and commanding. Cassandra Drake stood a few feet away, her eyes like steel.
"Take your bruised egos and your petty rivalry somewhere else. You want to kill each other? Do it in the sparring ring."
Neither boy moved.
"Now." Cassandra's voice was ice cold.
Marcus took a step back, straightened his uniform, and turned away without another word. Ethan exhaled slowly, his hands still trembling from the adrenaline.
Cassandra walked over and stood beside him, her arms crossed.
"You handled yourself well tonight, Cross," she said quietly.
Ethan didn't look at her. "It didn't feel like it."
Cassandra sighed. "It's not supposed to. If failure felt easy, you wouldn't learn from it."
She walked away, leaving Ethan alone in the pale moonlight.
The sparring ring was dimly lit, the air heavy with the scent of sweat and leather. Ethan wrapped his knuckles in cloth bandages, his muscles aching from the mission, his mind racing with fragmented memories.
Across the ring, Elise Laurent adjusted her gloves and stepped inside, her expression unreadable.
"You're not going to let Wren get inside your head, are you?" she asked softly.
Ethan forced a smile. "Too late for that."
Elise nodded toward the sparring dummies in the corner. "Come on. Hit something that can't hit back."
Ethan stepped up to one of the dummies and began punching sharp, controlled strikes that echoed in the empty gym. Each punch carried weight, frustration, and anger.
Elise watched him quietly before speaking. "You know… for a first mission, it could've been worse."
Ethan stopped, his chest heaving. "It could've been better."
She walked over and leaned against the ropes of the ring. "It will be. But only if you stop beating yourself up every time something goes wrong."
Ethan looked at her, and for the first time since they'd returned, he felt like he could breathe again.
"You're not bad at this motivational speech thing, Cipher," he said with a faint grin.
Elise rolled her eyes. "Don't get used to it."
They stood there in silence, the faint hum of distant generators filling the air.
That night, Ethan lay in his bunk staring at the ceiling. The faces of the guards he'd shot, the sound of alarms, and the distant glare of Marcus's eyes all swirled in his mind.
He pulled the black business card from his pocket the one Lex Graves had given him on that cold night so long ago. The silver snake emblem caught the faint light.
"Once you're in… there's no turning back."
Ethan closed his eyes, his hand clutching the card tightly.
There was no turning back now.
End of Chapter 6.