Theo stood in the dimly lit training chamber, rolling his shoulders as he mentally prepared for the onslaught ahead. The room had transformed overnight—what was once a sleek, barely populated lab had been rearranged into a battlefield of shifting walls, elevated sniper nests, and cover points. Erasmus had been very thorough.
“Alright, Theo,” Erasmus’ voice crackled over the intercom, smooth but laced with dry amusement. “Let’s see if you last longer than a fart in a hurricane. Your task? Close the gap and neutralize your target before they ventilate you.”
Theo smirked, cracking his knuckles. “That’s a lot of words for ‘don’t get shot.’”
A sharp beep echoed through the room, and the training simulation activated. Theo’s muscles coiled as mechanical turrets emerged from the walls, glowing with the tell-tale blue of Erasmus’s tech. He noticed three active snipers, moving along the rafters. The click of their servos set his pulse racing.
And then—bang.
The first shot rang out, and Theo barely rolled in time. A burst of heat singed the air near his face, leaving the acrid scent of scorched metal. He hit the ground in a crouch, eyes darting toward the source. Perched on a high platform, the sniper drone adjusted, its rifle humming—a heartbeat away from taking him out.
"Shit," Theo muttered, diving behind a stack of crates.
“You’re dead,” Erasmus’s voice chimed in. “If that had been a real fight, your brains would’ve been redecorating my walls.”
Theo peeked around the crate, noting the way the drones moved. Snipers were methodical. Precision-oriented. They didn’t spray and pray like some fighters—every shot had to count. If he kept moving erratically, they’d struggle to pin him down.
“Yeah, yeah,” Theo called back. “Maybe stop monologuing and let me work?”
Erasmus chuckled. “Fine. Impress me.”
The next shot ripped through the air, but Theo was already moving. Instead of staying behind cover, he juked left—then right—then sprinted. A straight charge was suicide, but unpredictability was his best weapon.
Another shot. This one nicked his shoulder, and the mesh flared, dispersing the kinetic energy before it could leave a mark. It still hurt, but nowhere near as much as it should have.
Theo grinned. “Damn, Raz, this thing’s actually useful.”
“Don’t get cocky,” Erasmus warned. “That was just a glancing shot. You take a full-force round and you’re done. Also, don’t just go left and right every two seconds—that’s still predictable. Mix up your timings and try to read the cooldowns.”
Theo attempted to heed the advice, closing in on the sniper’s perch. One well-placed jump sent him grabbing the edge of the platform. He heaved himself up, his muscles straining as the drone swivelled to adjust. Its barrel came up—
Theo punched.
The kinetic charge in his suit discharged at the perfect moment. His fist slammed into the drone’s chassis with enough force to send it spinning off the ledge, crashing into the floor below.
“One down. No time to celebrate.” Theo shook out his tingling knuckles, already scanning for the next target.
The second sniper fired.
This time, the round hit him square in the chest.
Theo was launched backward, his breath ripped from his lungs. He crashed against a wall, wheezing as pain flared through his ribs. The mesh had absorbed most of it, but the impact still hurt like hell.
“Good news,” Erasmus quipped. “You lived. Bad news? That was the weakest rifle I could make. Maybe don’t stop and celebrate when you’re still in a fight.”
Theo coughed, dragging himself upright. “You’re a real ray of sunshine, Raz.”
He took stock of his situation. Two snipers remained. They were repositioning, trying to find another angle. Theo couldn’t keep getting lucky. He needed a plan.
He spotted a set of cables snaking along the wall. An idea formed.
“Alright, let’s try this…”
Using almost all of the stored energy in his suit, Theo sprinted full speed, each footfall generating tremendous force and propelling him faster than he could have expected—then jumped at the last second. He grabbed the exposed cable mid-air and swung, using the momentum to launch himself upward, straight toward the initial sniper.
The drones detected him, adjusted their aim—but Theo twisted, using the kinetic boost to pivot just in time as the second sniper unleashed a round that blitzed through the area he just vacated.
CRACK.
His boot connected with the drone’s optics, sending it into a downward spiral. Theo landed hard, rolling as the mechanical body clattered against the floor.
Theo immediately leapt behind cover, away from the final sniper. The high-pitched noises indicated that it was formulating a new position to attack from. There was about 20 feet between the pair. Theo attempted to map the area in his mind from his previous sights.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The layout wasn’t in his favour. The sniper had the high ground, and with the shifting terrain, it could reposition faster than he could close the gap. If he rushed forward blindly, he’d be cut down before taking a second step.
Theo exhaled, forcing himself to think. Closing the distance unpredictably. Using cover. Forcing a misfire. He ran through Erasmus’ earlier lectures, sifting through strategies while keeping his body low.
Then, he heard it—the faint whir of the sniper adjusting. It was locked in.
Theo moved.
Instead of sprinting straight, he rolled out from cover but immediately cut left, kicking off a wall to change direction mid-motion. The sniper fired. A burst of heat seared past his ribs, the kinetic force grazing the mesh but dispersing before it could fully connect.
Too close.
He pushed forward, charging toward a stack of supply crates. The sniper adjusted—but Theo was faster now, his suit feeding off the stored energy from his near-miss.
As the sniper lined up another shot, Theo grabbed a loose crate and hurled it upward. The heavy object disrupted the drone’s tracking for half a second.
Half a second was all he needed.
Theo launched himself forward, twisting mid-air to slam both feet into the sniper’s core. The impact sent it crashing down in a heap of sparking parts, its optics flickering before going dark.
He landed hard, barely keeping his footing.
Silence.
Then, a slow clap over the intercom.
“Well, that was entertaining,” Erasmus admitted. “Sloppy, but moderately effective.”
Theo collapsed onto his back, panting. “I aim to please.”
“Tomorrow, we up the difficulty.” Came Erasmus’ voice over the speakers.
Theo groaned. “Remind me why I keep thinking you have a soul?”
“You can chalk that down to terrible life choices.” Erasmus retorted.
Theo didn’t argue.
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Day Two – Precision Training
Theo stood in front of a moving target range, holding a pair of throwing knives Erasmus had tossed him with a smirk.
“You won’t always be able to close the gap before you get riddled with holes,” Erasmus had explained. “So, you learn this.”
Theo had never been much of a knife guy. Punching people? Sure. Kicking them? Absolutely. But throwing sharp objects? Not exactly in his wheelhouse.
Still, if he wanted to survive, he needed every edge he could get.
He spun the knife between his fingers, eyeing the first moving target. It was a floating drone, weaving in an unpredictable pattern.
Theo narrowed his eyes.
Exhale. Relax. Release.
He snapped his wrist, sending the blade whistling through the air.
It missed. Badly.
Erasmus snorted. “Astounding. A blindfolded toddler would outscore you.”
Theo smiled sarcastically. “Is that who did your hair?
He adjusted his grip. Lighter, not so stiff.
The second knife left his hand.
It missed by an even greater distance, flying up into the air.
This level of success was standard for the first 20 throws. There was very, very slight improvement as time went on, but it was slow.
Eventually, Theo lined up properly, actually applying Erasmus’ (rare) useful advice. He flicked his wrist—thunk—the knife clipped the drone’s edge. Barely.
Theo huffed, rolling his shoulders. “Okay, progress.”
“You have six more days to not embarrass yourself,” Erasmus quipped. “Try harder.”
Theo flipped him off and kept throwing.
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Day Five – Live Fire
Theo crouched behind cover, sweat dripping down his temple. The training had escalated fast. Today, the drones weren’t firing stun rounds.
Erasmus had thrown him into real live fire, and it sucked.
He could hear the rapid-fire whizz of bullets striking the walls around him. His mind raced. The only way to win was to outthink the shooters.
He took a breath. Then moved.
He sprinted in a zig-zag, diving into a roll just as a shot grazed past him. He used his momentum to leap up, scaling a pillar and flipping onto the catwalk above.
A drone tracked him.
Theo anticipated, kicked off the railing—and threw a knife mid-air.
It hit the drone’s core, sending it sparking and tumbling.
Theo landed on his feet, chest heaving.
Over the intercom, Erasmus let out an impressed whistle. “You might actually live through this.”
Theo grinned, flipping the last knife in his hand before dropping it as he tried to catch it and look cool.
He awkwardly peered at Erasmus. “Maybe it’s best I don’t, actually.”
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Conclusion – Day Seven
By the end of the week, Theo wasn’t just a brawler anymore. He could read a battlefield. He knew when to move and when to wait. When to throw and when to charge.
He was still raw. Still learning. But he was better.
Erasmus met him outside the training chamber, arms crossed. “Not bad, Theo. Not great, but not bad.”
Theo smirked. “Coming from you? That’s practically flirting.”
Erasmus rolled his eyes. “Get some rest. Tomorrow, we begin stealth training.”
Theo groaned, already regretting every life choice.
And yet…
For the first time in a while, there was some semblance of genuine confidence creeping into his mind.