"Hey." The blonde girl said to Adam, as he lay face-down in the mud. "Are you alright?"

Adam lifted his head and spat out a wad of said mud straight onto the girl’s shoes. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his military uniform, the dirt mixing in with the khaki coloring, looked straight back at the girl, and asked, "Who the hell are you?"

The girl smiled back. The mud left a sluggish trail down the side of her shoes. "You are alright then. Thank the stars!"

Adam blinked, mind empty. The memories came rushing back the next second. His pack jingled as he scrambled to his feet. He straightened his back and glanced down at his body. Uniform, kit, rifle, and utilities—all present. Thank Christ, he thought to himself, otherwise, the drill instructors would’ve blown a real gasket.

"What are you doing here?" Adam said, narrowing his eyes at the blonde girl. Her clothes were pristine, despite the surrounding dirt and rain. Her hair gleamed with a lemony freshness that shouldn’t even be within the same thought bubble as his current location. "This is Parris Island. Civvies aren’t allowed."

"What makes you so certain I’m a civilian?" The girl countered.

"Ain’t seen any girl in the Marines Corps rock up to the field in a summer dress and a hat," Adam said. The girl fingered the lacy-white cloth on the lower half of her dress, then shrugged her shoulders.

"You got me. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m here, no? I might as well take a stroll around since it’s such a lovely day today."

Adam glanced around him. Their surroundings were an ugly haze of brown, dark green, and grey. The sky spat a drizzle, kicking up the scent of mud and rotting leaves. Birds squawked in the distance, their shrill cries breaking through the cold numbness surrounding his body. He blinked, saw spots and his head pounded.

Adam looked her straight in the eye. "Look, miss, I don’t have time to play twenty questions with you," Adam said.

"Aw, why not?" The sides of the girl’s mouth drooped, in the sense she was pulling down on the skin with her fingers. The rain trickled down her face, sticking strands of her blonde fringe onto her porcelain-clean skin.

"Because I’m busy." Adam spat. He waved behind her towards a dirt path. "You’re currently in the middle of a military training exercise. It’s the Crucible. Look it up once you get back home or college, whatever."

"Come now." The girl let out a sigh. "Surely, your drill instructors wouldn’t mind you having a chat with a pretty girl now and then."

Adam snorted. "They’ll grind my ass into dust for fucking around on lookout. Listen miss, do you have any idea how many guys drop out before this point? They survive three months of getting battered by the DIs, only to fail because they don’t shoot straight, left the flag behind, or whatever. I’ve come this far and I really don’t need some random girl screwing this up for me, okay?"

"I’m sure it can’t be that bad." The girl said.

Adam would have smacked her over the head if he wasn’t so tired. She spoke like a true civvie from the big city, maybe one of those out-of-touch nature-loving university types. It would explain why she broke into this secure military installation to observe trees or whatever the hell they taught in college these days.

"Please get the hell out of here." He said and resumed his position.

The girl let his silence persist for a few more seconds, then gave a deeper sigh. She turned in the opposite direction and paced around him, hands behind her back. Every step she made squelched like rotten fruit against a graffitied wall. "So aggressive. So inflexible. I bet you’re real popular with the ladies, Adam."

Adam whirled around and pointed his rifle at her. "How do you know my name?" Adam hissed.

The girl raised her hands. "Well, at least you’re not slow on the uptake." She said, smirking.

"Shut up. Second time: who the hell are you?" Adam said.

"A fair maiden with beautiful blonde hair and a fashionable hat." The girl said. "Don’t bother firing that at me. You won’t hit me. Besides, shouldn’t you have better things to worry about, such as what’s around your neck?"

Adam’s hand swiped at the base of his neck. His eyes widened. He clutched the empty air and his voice came out in a snarl. "Where is it?"

"Where is what?" The girl repeated.

"My sister’s pendant! It was on me a minute ago! Now it’s gone!"

The girl let loose a guffaw. "You better go and catch it, then!" She turned around and disappeared into the nearby trees. Adam chased after her, his army boots splashing mud across his trousers. The girl’s figure loomed ahead of him among the twisting shadows of the underbrush, swift despite her heels.

Adam dug deep into his inner core, weaving past the exhaustion of the past forty hours, and pulled out a few dregs of his remaining strength. He charged forward, hand outstretched for the girl’s neck…

…only for his hand to pass through empty air. He stumbled, almost collapsing onto the concrete.

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Wait, concrete?

"What are you doing, Private Westfield?" Came a nearby yell. Drill Instructor Rackhart, in all his muscle-bound and bald glory, stomped forwards him. His nose bulged like a rhino’s horn as the words exploded from his fat mouth. "Hurry the hell up! Those targets won’t wait for your slow donkey-ass!"

A loud bang rang through the air. Fellow recruits, also dressed in the same uniform, lay prone on a grassy field. Their rifles fired at distant targets perched on plastic dummies. The rain had vanished, replaced with cloudy skies and light winds.

"The firing range?" Adam said. "But sir, I…"

"I what?" Instructor Rackhart screamed back at him. "You’re already dead, Private! Don’t stand around and get firing!"

"The girl, sir!" Adam shouted back. "There was a civvie girl on the premises! I chased after her and now she’s gone."

The following roar sprayed spittle over him like the blast of a fire extinguisher. "This is no time to be thinking with your dick! You’ve already been killed three times over by standing around like a complete donkey! Pick up your rifle, get into position, and start shooting, for Christ’s sake!"

Adam swore and dropped into position. What was he thinking? The Instructor was right; he had to focus on the Crucible first. Let the other guys worry about the intruder. He shoved a fresh magazine into his rifle and aimed down the sights. A light breeze brushed against his buzz-cut. Wind resistance. He lifted his rifle slightly and pulled the trigger. The training dummy on the opposite side fell, two clean holes through the torso.

"Not bad, Private!" Instructor Rackhart said, "Maybe the Corps will find a use for you, after all. Now get moving!"

Adam picked himself up and sprinted out of the firing range. The air shimmered. The rain splattered down on his freezing clothes once more. He inhaled the taste of the forest and the girl stepped out from behind the trees, not a single spot of dirt on her dress. "Miss me?" She asked.

"Give back my sister’s pendant!"

"What makes you think I have it?"

Adam didn’t even think. He charged straight at her, shouting an obscenity. The girl laughed and ran off once more.

The rest of Parris Island’s exercises blurred past him. He threw grenades in a sand pit. He leaped across an obstacle course. He finished demonstrating first-aid on a faux-injured comrade. Each time, the girl appeared in the corner of his eye, waving at him, before vanishing like a dandelion in the wind.

Adam ran straight into a building where the doors locked behind him. The ceiling hissed. Adam tightened his gas mask right as noxious gas spewed from holes in the walls. Painful tears filled his eyes. The girl tapped on the glass and winked. Adam stumbled out of the tear gas room straight into the combat field.

He gaped. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Fighting you." The girl said. "What else have I stepped in the ring for?"

"You expect to fight in that?" Adam pointed at her dress.

Something devilish glinted in the girl’s eyes. "You will regret saying that."

She lunged forward and punched him in the shoulder. Adam toppled, stabilizing himself mere inches from the edge of the chalk circle. She beckoned with her index finger.

"Come on, Private! I’m your Instructor now!"

So the girl was tougher than she looked. Fine by him. Wasn’t like he was averse to hitting a girl. A man learned to drop such stupid notions when growing up in the slums of Steeldale, and he had proved himself tough in that pit before entering basic!

Adam threw his own punch. The girl ducked under it and swept towards his legs. The next few minutes in the ring only served to irritate the already-tired Adam even further. That first punch could have knocked him out in an instant. Yet, she persisted in this farce. Punches, uppercuts, knee strikes and chokeholds…the girl performed them all, leaving room for him to counter each one. Nobody from the audience bothered to stop them, not even Instructor Rackhart.

"Something wrong, Private?" The girl said. She threw out a right hook. Adam dodged to the side, the blow narrowly missing his head.

"Several things are wrong!"

"Really? Educate me, because you’ve got the look of a rookie who can’t tell the tip of her rifle from her ass. That’s fatal, y’know?"

Adam lashed out with a kick that thudded against her chest. The cloth folded in, but she didn’t budge an inch. She pushed back, almost tipping him out of the circle once more.

"Oh, shut your damn mouth. I don’t have words to describe how stupid this is. This is all probably a damn dream!"

"Well, took you long enough." The girl said.

Adam skidded to a halt. His fist dangled in mid-swing. "What?"

"You heard me. Why would a recruit be referred to as a ‘Private’—a superior rank—by a drill instructor? And there’s no way the US Marines Corps would allow a civilian on their base. They’re bad at logistics, but they’re not stupid."

Adam opened his mouth and nothing came out. He placed his palm on his face, then muttered to himself. "I remember now."

The memories flowed like the runoff from a burst pipe. The Crucible had been the definition of a frigid hell, in the mud and in the rain with only five scant meals to eat. Yet, he had struggled through and emerged victorious. He remembered marching with his fellows at the barracks, the emblem of the E-1 Private proud on his shoulders, his sister’s pendant raised to the sky in the direction of their old home. Then…

What happened after that?

"Congratulations, Adam, you figured it out. Not bad for someone from a non-mystical world." The girl’s voice snapped him back to reality.

"You set this up." Adam said. It wasn’t a question. Everything, from the trees to the wind to the Instructor and the rest of the onlookers, had been placed on pause. Only he and the girl were mobile. He looked down at his hands. Touch, scent, the aches from his past recruit self…it was all too real.

"That’s a dirty term." The girl huffed. "I’d like to think we created a fitting scenario to test your skills and aptitudes. It was all done for Her sake."

Adam scowled and imagined himself setting the girl’s hair on fire. "Think, I’ll be fine without her approval, thanks."

"Her, not her, you imbecile!" The girl then smiled, serene, and Adam recoiled. A human’s eyes weren’t meant to contain sparkles like those. The sky broke apart, revealing a vast canopy of ethereal blue, so radiant it put the aurora borealis to shame. Six lights shone down upon the girl. "She, who was born at origin of the universe, who bestowed the gifts of knowledge and might upon humanity, who has uplifted our unworthy souls to join our brethren within the stars. It is an honor beyond scripture to be chosen by Her, Private Westfield."

Then, she returned to normal. "…is what one of those lost maidens would say, no doubt."

Adam shook his head. "If you’re trying to tell me something, you’re doing a terrible job. Get to the point."

"Straight to the point? Fine. Adam, you’ve been Chosen by Her Providence to save her lost War Maidens. How does that sound?"

Simulated Evaluation: 91.3%

Now preparing the Astraean Defense Order Specialized Combat Harness (ADOSCH)…