#1

Blake sat on the chair, his posture stiff as though the weight of the room itself pressed on his shoulders. Across from him, Dr. Griffo leaned back, his monocle glinting faintly under the light. His expression was unreadable, but the faint crease in his brow hinted at his impatience.

Kai stood next to Blake, arms crossed and his usual calm demeanor in place, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of concern. He didn’t speak, but his gaze stayed on Blake, watching him like a hawk monitoring an unpredictable prey.

Dr. Griffo groaned quietly, breaking the tense silence. “Let’s get this over with. I’ve had a long day.”

Blake swallowed hard, his eyes darting nervously between the doctor and the empty paper in front of him. Dr. Griffo’s sharp gaze locked onto him, and he sighed, the sound carrying an air of disappointment.

“Minus ten points,” Dr. Griffo said flatly.

Blake flinched as if struck, his mouth dropping open. “Minus ten?” he stammered, his voice cracking slightly. “I didn’t even do anything wrong!” He turned to Kai, his eyes wide and pleading for backup.

Kai, however, didn’t move. He simply tilted his head slightly, his expression impassive, as if Blake’s outburst were nothing more than a passing breeze.

Blake’s gaze darted back to Dr. Griffo, his panic mounting. “I mean, come on! I didn’t even start yet!”

Dr. Griffo pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling a slow, deliberate breath. “Minus fifteen,” he said, the words cutting like a knife.

Blake froze, his mouth snapping shut. He visibly fought back the urge to argue further, his hands gripping the chair’s armrests so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“Good,” Dr. Griffo said, his voice laced with faint amusement as he leaned forward. “You’re learning. Now…” He clasped his hands together and placed them on the desk in front of him. “Let’s start the test, shall we?”

The air grew heavier, the tension between the three palpable.

Now shall we begin, Dr Griffo said.

Blake’s hands twitched slightly on the armrest as he tried to suppress his irritation. “So, the test hasn’t even started, but I’m already down twenty-five points?” His voice carried a faint edge of disbelief. “Is that even fair? I mean, why did I even get a minus ten in the first place?”

Dr. Griffo adjusted his monocle with an air of practiced indifference, his other hand brushing over his perfectly groomed mustache. “Minus ten points,” he repeated coolly, “for talking too much.”

Blake blinked at him, his mouth opening as if to argue before quickly shutting again. His shoulders slumped as he sank into the chair. Pesky old man, he thought bitterly, biting back the words he wanted to hurl aloud.

Dr. Griffo tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Now that you look marginally more like a functioning human, we can begin.”

Blake’s eye twitched involuntarily. Functioning human? The words stung enough to draw a sharp inhale. Did he see me as an animal before?

Dr. Griffo ignored Blake’s inner turmoil and continued. “The passing score is seventy points. If you reach that, you’ll gain access to the full details of what we do here. Should you fall short...” He leaned back slightly, his tone growing sharp. “...you will be deemed unfit as a replacement, and I’ll take it upon myself to inform Kai of my decision.”

Blake opened his mouth again, but this time, Dr. Griffo raised a single hand in a gesture that silenced him instantly.

“Easy enough to understand, I hope?” Dr. Griffo asked, his voice low but pointed, like a blade pressing lightly against the skin.

Blake managed a terse nod, the words "Easy for you to say" swirling in his head.

At that moment, Kai re-entered the room with a fresh teacup, placing it gently in front of Dr. Griffo. The doctor’s monocle glinted as he took the cup and sipped delicately. “Hmm,” he hummed, savoring the drink. “Acceptable, Kai. You may leave now.”

Kai inclined his head slightly, then turned to exit without a word. Blake’s eyes trailed after him, his lips pursing in frustration. Seriously? He gets tea and I get interrogated? This is not what I was looking forward to

Dr. Griffo’s voice snapped him back to the present. “Since you seem to have no questions, I take it you’re ready to proceed.”

Blake met the older man’s gaze, his expression briefly conflicted before it settled into a determined nod. “Very well then,” he said, his voice steadier than before. “I’m ready.”

Dr. Griffo set the teacup down with a soft clink, his sharp eyes narrowing. “Good. Let’s see if you truly are.”

Dr. Griffo shifted slightly in his chair, crossing his legs with precision, his piercing gaze locking onto Blake. “First of five questions,” he began, his tone clipped. “During a mission, your team encounters a hostage situation. You have limited time to act. You must choose to save either a renowned scientist holding critical, potentially world-saving information or your injured teammate, Kai. Who would you save and why?”

He paused, tapping his fingers against the armrest. “And remember, keep it simple. I’m not interested in hearing the entire creation story of heaven and earth in your explanation.”

Blake blinked, his jaw dropping slightly. What kind of question is this? He slouched a little in his chair, rubbing his temple dramatically. “I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this,” he muttered under his breath. I thought it’d be something like: how fast can you disarm a bomb? Or how many punches can you take without crying? This is... existential.

Clearing his throat, he sat up straighter. “Still...” he began, his voice louder now. “Of course, I’d save Kai. He’s part of the team. We can find the information somewhere else, but we can’t replace a teammate.”

Dr. Griffo raised an eyebrow, leaning forward ever so slightly. “Interesting.” His tone remained neutral, though the air grew heavier. “And what if the scientist’s information is critical to preventing a world-ending catastrophe? Would you still save Kai and leave the scientist to their fate?”

Blake froze, the words striking him like a sudden blow. He fidgeted in his chair, tugging at his sleeve as though the fabric had suddenly become unbearably tight. This is a setup, isn’t it? A no-win question designed to make me squirm.

He let out a nervous chuckle. “I’m in a real tight spot here,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “But I guess I’d still save Kai. He’s a member of the team, and abandoning him just doesn’t feel right.”

Dr. Griffo’s face darkened slightly, his sharp eyes narrowing. “Even knowing that your decision would doom millions of civilians?” His voice was icy now, slicing through the tension like a knife.

Blake hesitated, his hand running through his hair as if searching for a lifeline. Finally, he exhaled, his gaze sharpening. “If Kai doesn’t want me to save him,” he said firmly, “then I’d go for the scientist. If that’s the team’s call, I’ll follow orders.”

For a moment, silence filled the room, broken only by the faint hum of the lights.

Blake’s mind briefly wandered to a memory from his past.

#2

Flashback: Major Kang’s Lesson

Blake's mind drifted back to that unforgettable conversation with Major Kang. It was a crisp evening, and the setting sun cast a warm glow on the training grounds. Kang had observed Blake and Moris exchanging spirited laughter and camaraderie, which had prompted him to pull Blake aside for a private chat.

"You two have grown close, haven't you?" Kang had mused, gesturing toward Moris.

Blake smiled warmly, his admiration for his friend evident in his voice. "Yes, sir. Moris has become like family to me."

Kang nodded, his gaze pensive. "It's important to forge strong bonds, but as a leader, you must also be prepared to face difficult choices. Let me ask you this—if both Moris and your Grandma were in dire need of help, and you could only save one of them first, who would you choose?"

Blake's heart sank at the thought, and he hesitated before answering. "As much as it pains me, I'd choose my Grandma, sir. But I'd do everything in my power to save Moris too."

Kang shook his head, his eyes conveying the gravity of the situation. "In the real world, the person you choose first might be the only one who survives. Remember that your choices have consequences."

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With a fatherly tone, Kang placed a reassuring hand on Blake's shoulder. "Sometimes, all you can do is trust your instincts and remember that leadership often demands sacrifice. Weigh the outcomes of your decisions carefully and always be prepared to accept the consequences."

Shaking off the memDr. Griffo’s eyes narrowed slightly, his expression unreadable as he leaned back in his chair. For a moment, his composure cracked—a faint flicker of surprise crossing his features. He cleared his throat, masking it with a sip of tea.

“I see,” he said slowly, his tone more measured now. “It seems you may look like a child from the outside, but you do possess a sliver of common sense in that mind of yours.”

Blake straightened in his chair, his eyes narrowing. Common sense? He pressed his palms to his knees, resisting the urge to retort. “Glad you think so,” he muttered, a trace of offense slipping through his tone. ory, Blake returned his focus to the present.

His fingers tapped against the armrest, the rhythmic motion betraying his irritation. Pesky old man.

Dr. Griffo’s lips twitched in a subtle smirk, as if he could sense Blake’s inner turmoil. “On to the next question,” he said smoothly, adjusting his monocle.

Blake braced himself, silently praying the next one would be less soul-crushing. No chance of that, is there?

Dr. Griffo adjusted his monocle, the light catching its polished surface as he folded his hands neatly in front of him. His expression remained impassive as he delivered his verdict. “For that answer, fifty points. Your score is now fifteen. You need sixty-five points to pass.”

Blake exhaled sharply, slumping back in his chair with exaggerated exhaustion. “Geez, I know that! Telling me this is only making me more nervous,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Dr. Griffo ignored the comment, his voice unwavering as he pressed forward. “Very well, then. The second question is as follows: In the middle of a dangerous mission, Kai is separated from the group, leaving Cyrus, Axel, and Lucas to collaborate without a designated leader. Tensions are high, and disagreements arise. How would you mediate between your teammates and ensure a successful mission outcome?”

Blake blinked, his brow furrowing as he processed the scenario. Then, his face lit up with faux confidence, though his thoughts betrayed him. This one’s easy... right? He leaned forward, a smirk forming on his lips. “Well, Lucas is totally crazy anyway, so there’s no way he can be a captain,” he started, waving dismissively at the mental image of Lucas grinning maniacally in a firefight.

His train of thought shifted as Axel came to mind. Blake paused, squinting as though picturing Axel’s perpetually unimpressed face. “Axel, on the other hand... yeah, no. That guy already looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world. Making him the leader would probably crush him.” Blake muttered under his breath, “Plus, there’s no way the Grumpasaurus and I could get along long enough for him to lead anyone.”

Dr. Griffo tilted his head, clearly unimpressed by the running commentary, but Blake didn’t notice as he carried on.

“Well, that leaves Cyrus,” Blake concluded, his tone brightening.

He sat back, crossing his arms, a self-satisfied smile spreading across his face as if he’d just won the lottery.

Dr. Griffo raised an eyebrow, his sharp gaze cutting through Blake’s moment of triumph. “Good reasoning. But what if Cyrus doesn’t want to take the lead?”

Blake froze, the confident smirk sliding off his face like butter on a hot skillet. His eyes darted back to the doctor, wide with incredulity. “You’re kidding, right? This is already a question within a question!” He threw his hands up, groaning theatrically.

Dr. Griffo didn’t so much as blink, his expression a wall of stoic indifference.

Blake sighed in defeat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, fine. If Cyrus doesn’t want to lead, then I’d volunteer.” He gestured vaguely, as though trying to explain away his reluctant choice. “I mean, Lucas would just charge in headfirst without even giving orders, and Axel...” Blake rolled his eyes, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, I can totally see him falling asleep mid-briefing. No way I’d pick either of them.”

For the first time, Dr. Griffo’s lips quirked into a faint smile, the slightest hint of approval breaking through his usually stern demeanor. “Very well, then. That’s twenty-five points.”

Blake’s eyes lit up, and he clenched his fist triumphantly. “Yes! That’s forty points now. Only thirty more to go!” His voice brimmed with determination, though it wasn’t entirely clear whether he was trying to psych himself up or ward off the ever-present tension in the room.

Dr. Griffo tapped his fingers against the desk, his smile fading back into neutrality. “Just three more questions to go,” he said, his tone flat. “Let’s see if your confidence holds.”

Blake gave himself a firm nod, muttering under his breath. “Just three more... I should do fine... totally fine...”

Somewhere deep in his mind, however, he couldn’t shake the thought: Why do I feel like this old man is saving the worst for last?

Dr. Griffo leaned back in his chair, his eyes drifting to the teacup in his hand. He sighed, swirling the liquid slowly. “Cold tea,” he muttered. “What a travesty.” His gaze snapped back to Blake. “Let’s wrap this up. Last question.”

Blake’s eyebrows shot up. His initial surprise quickly shifted into quiet gratitude. Finally! he thought. His eyes darted to the teacup, a sense of reverence washing over him. Cold tea, my savior.

Dr. Griffo’s tone turned solemn as he adjusted his monocle. “As you’re aware, the work we do is dangerous, requiring precision, resilience, and adaptability. We need replacements who can pull their weight in combat.” He leaned forward, resting his hands on the desk. “Kai tells me you show potential. So, let me ask—how good are you, really?”

Blake’s face lit up like a kid showing off a new toy. He sat up straighter, puffing out his chest with exaggerated pride. “How good am I?” he repeated, grinning. “Let me tell you—I’ve been wielding a knife for seven years now. Seven years!” He spread his arms dramatically. “Expect me to be the secret assassin of the Black Mambas!” His grin widened, almost cartoonishly, as he wiggled his fingers as though wielding invisible blades.

Dr. Griffo raised an unimpressed brow, his face stoic as ever. “Secret assassin? Interesting claim,” he said dryly. “Let’s test that theory, shall we?”

Blake blinked, his confidence faltering as the gravity of the situation dawned on him. “Wait, what?”

The doctor continued without pause, his words crisp and sharp. “You’ll face our best knife wielder. And while it may be his tertiary weapon, don’t mistake that for a weakness.”

Blake’s eyes widened in alarm. “H-Hold on a second—”

“And,” Dr. Griffo interjected smoothly, adjusting his monocle again, “failure to defeat him will result in a deduction of twenty-five points.”

Blake froze, his mouth agape. “Minus twenty-five?!” His voice cracked as the reality of the stakes hit him. “You’ve gotta stop with the huge deductions, man! I’ll have nothing left!”

Dr. Griffo didn’t respond. Instead, he pressed a button embedded in the armrest of his chair. The entire room trembled faintly before beginning to descend like an elevator. Blake clung to the armrests, his nerves threatening to unravel entirely.

The descent stopped abruptly, and a door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a stark white training ground. The walls gleamed with a metallic sheen, and the air carried a faint, sterile chill. The arena looked pristine, yet ominously clinical—designed for efficiency, not comfort.

Dr. Griffo gestured toward the opening. “Step into the training ground,” he instructed. “Your opponent will meet you there shortly.”

His opponent stepped into view—a tall, imposing figure with an aura of practiced lethality. They held a knife in their hand, spinning it casually with the ease of someone who’d been born wielding a blade.

Blake swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the small knife he’d been handed moments before entering the arena. His earlier bravado flickered, replaced by a nervous chuckle.

“Yup,” he muttered. “No pressure at all.”

Blake took a step back as the figure fully emerged from the opposite end of the arena. His eyes widened in shock as recognition hit him like a freight train.

“Kai?!” he exclaimed, his voice cracking.

Kai stood there, his usual calm and collected demeanor intact, but there was an unmistakable edge of amusement in his expression. He held a knife in his hand, spinning it lazily with practiced ease before catching it mid-air. His eyes locked onto Blake’s, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Don’t expect me to go easy on you, Blake,” Kai said, his tone both teasing and serious.

Blake’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “You’re good with a knife?” he sputtered, his mind struggling to reconcile the calm, level-headed Kai with the sudden image of him as a formidable knife fighter.

Kai tilted his head slightly, his smile widening. “If I were you,” he said smoothly, “I’d be working out a strategy right about now.”

Blake blinked, his initial shock melting into a grin. He straightened up, shaking his head as if clearing it. “Nah,” he replied, his voice gaining a confident edge. “Even though I hate admitting it, I’ve been trained by someone who gave me the best kind of training I could ever get. I don’t need to overthink this—I’ll just go with the flow.”

Kai raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Interesting,” he murmured. His gaze sharpened as he observed Blake’s stance and demeanor. For him to display such a level of confidence… how good must he really be with a knife?

Blake’s grin grew wider. “Not that I’m underestimating you,” he added, “but I’ve got confidence in what I can do with a blade.”

The tension between them thickened, an electric charge crackling in the air as both fighters sized each other up. The silence stretched for a moment, broken only by the faint hum of the room’s hidden systems.

Then, a disembodied voice echoed through the pristine, tiled arena.

“Begin.”

The word hung in the air for a heartbeat before both Blake and Kai moved simultaneously, their blades catching the light as they prepared to test their mettle against one another.