The sharp sound of bullets echoed across the shooting range as the man behind the assault rifle took aim and fired, hitting his targets with deadly precision.

* BANG *

* BANG *

* BANG *

Satisfied with his performance, he quickly shifted to a new position and continued shooting.

* BANG *

* BANG *

* BANG *

Each shot found its mark, and he moved again, this time tossing a grenade toward the final target.

* BOOM *

The explosion rocked the area, setting off an alarm that signaled the end of the exercise. The instructor, stopwatch in hand, paused the timer just as the alarm sounded.

* CLICK *

Another instructor approached, eyeing the consternation on the first instructor's face. "So?" he asked.

"20.1 seconds," the first instructor replied, with a mix of amazement and frustration. "He broke the record again!"

The other instructor was equally astonished. "Jesus Christ! That's the fastest we ever clocked!"

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The first instructor grew increasingly agitated. "Again!! He broke another record! I thought I would have another normal year, but, Nooo!! this guy came strutting in just to ruin everything. How the hell does he shoot with such perfect accuracy as if he has been practicing for years?!"

The other instructor nodded, equally perplexed. "That is a little too suspicious for a recruit to have accuracy higher than most corporals while being a recruit. Did we find anything?"

Shaking his head, the first instructor replied, "No, we didn't find anything suspicious. But looking at his performance makes me feel that we forgot something. We did a thorough background check, and the documents match the story, and we even have an old photo of him wandering in Manchester in torn clothes. Maybe that was the reason he was easily kidnapped and trafficked here, or maybe it was something else, but the kid behaves too nicely to be a spy."

The other instructor concurred. "He isn't a spy. We have been monitoring his behavior, and we haven't found any suspicious activity."

The first instructor sighed, his frustration momentarily forgotten. "Still, aren't you glad you got to teach him? It would look good on your file for promotions."

"Why should I be happy? All of this has given me more paperwork," the second instructor grumbled, but he couldn't hide the smile that played at the corners of his lips.

As the rest of the recruits finished up their final exercise, the first instructor glanced at his watch. "I have to fill their files now," he said, bidding his colleague farewell as he made his way to his office.

Ian trudged towards the barracks with a weary gait. His muscles ached and his body was drenched in sweat. He could hardly wait to take a nice, long shower to wash off the grime of the day. As he removed his shoes and other clothes, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror, his mind racing with thoughts of his performance during the basic training.

It was the last day of the training, and he couldn't help but wonder if his superiors were satisfied with his progress. His heart raced with anticipation as he hoped to be deployed in a top-notch military unit, one that could lead him to Camp Lehigh. His ultimate goal was to get his hands on the serum before Captain America was created. The thought of holding the power of the serum in his hands filled him with excitement, and he couldn't wait to achieve his dreams.

Lost in his thoughts, Ian walked towards the shower area, a towel draped over his shoulders. The sound of running water filled his ears, as he entered the shower area and began to hum to himself, the warmth of the water soothing his aching muscles. He closed his eyes and let himself relax, letting the water wash away the stress and tension of the day.

Billy Ashton sat at his desk with a furrowed brow, staring at the reports in front of him. He knew he had a deadline to meet, but he couldn't help feeling frustrated as he reviewed the documents. He took a deep breath, picked up his pen, and began to write about the star of his report: Ian.

For two hours, Billy wrote about Ian's remarkable performance during the entire training. He was impressed by the young recruit's marksmanship, fitness, and leadership skills. He noted how Ian had broken most of the previous records set by his peers and how he had shown exceptional behavior during the field training.

After finishing Ian's report, Billy moved on to another recruit's file, feeling the weight of his job on his shoulders. He worked tirelessly for hours, constantly writing, and reviewing. Finally, he leaned back in his chair, letting out a deep sigh. He glanced over at Ian's report, picking it up and reading it once more, slower this time.

As he thought about Ian's performance, he began to tap his fingers on the table, lost in thought. After a few moments, he made a decision. He picked up the phone and dialed a number, his heart pounding in his chest. After several rings, the call was answered, and he cleared his throat respectfully, "Colonel Philips?"