Ethan West stood at the entrance of the briefing room, his gaze sweeping over the occupants already seated inside. The room was the epitome of utilitarianism, with bare metal walls and a single table surrounded by mismatched chairs. A dim light hung overhead, casting a muted glow on the people he would be calling his team.
At the far end of the table sat Captain Ying Wei, a man who exuded an air of quiet intensity. His back was ramrod straight, his hands resting lightly on the table as if he were ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. His sharp eyes met Ethan’s with a gaze that was both assessing and unyielding.
“West,” Ying said, gesturing toward a chair across from him. “Take a seat.”
Ethan nodded, stepping into the room. He set his duffel bag down near the door and made his way to the chair, his footsteps echoing slightly in the confined space. As he sat, he noted the tension in the air, a subtle but unmistakable weight that seemed to press down on the room.
To Ying’s right sat a woman who appeared to be in her early thirties, her dark hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. She didn’t look up as Ethan entered, her focus entirely on the sniper rifle she was disassembling with methodical precision. Her movements were smooth and practiced, each part laid out in a careful sequence on the table before her.
“That’s Anna Keen,” Ying said without looking at her. “Our sniper and lore specialist.”
Anna glanced up briefly, her gray eyes meeting Ethan’s for a fraction of a second before returning to her task. “Welcome,” she said quietly, her tone neutral.
Ethan gave a slight nod. “Good to meet you.”
The third chair at the table was conspicuously empty. Ethan’s eyes flicked to it, then back to Ying, who didn’t offer an explanation.
“You’ll meet Cassidy Yen later,” Ying said, answering the unspoken question. “She tends to show up on her own schedule.”
Ethan’s eyebrows raised slightly, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, trying to get a read on the team dynamics. The silence that followed was telling. There was none of the easy banter he’d experienced in his SEAL teams, none of the camaraderie that came from shared experiences and mutual trust. Instead, there was a guardedness, a sense that everyone in the room was holding something back.
Ying broke the silence. “You’re here because we need someone who can fill our late team member,Azril’s role. But let me make one thing clear.”
Ethan straightened, his attention snapping to Ying.
“You’re not here to replace him,” Ying said, his voice firm. “Azril was one of a kind. You’re here to bring your skills to the table and to prove you can operate as part of this team. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Ethan nodded, sensing the significance of the statement. He had heard the name Azril mentioned in passing during his induction, but no one had provided details. It was clear from the way Ying spoke that Azril’s absence was more than just professional—it was personal.
“Understood,” Ethan said simply.
Ying held his gaze for a moment longer before leaning back in his chair. He turned his attention to Anna, who was now reassembling her rifle with the same meticulous care.
“Anna,” Ying said, his tone softening slightly, “if you’re done, maybe you can give West a rundown of how we operate.”
Anna didn’t look up. “What’s the point?” she said, her voice quiet but edged with something bitter. “He’ll figure it out in the field, or he won’t.”
Ying’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t press her. Ethan filed the exchange away, noting the cracks in their dynamic.
“I get it,” Ethan said, breaking the silence. Both Ying and Anna looked at him, their expressions unreadable. “I’m the outsider. I know I have to earn my place here, and I don’t expect it to happen overnight. But I’m here to pull my weight, whatever it takes.”
Anna regarded him for a moment, her hands stilling on the rifle. Then she nodded, a small but significant gesture.
The sound of the door sliding open interrupted the conversation. A woman in her late twenties strode in, her sleek black gear giving her an almost spectral appearance. She carried a slim portable console under one arm, and her dark eyes flicked to Ethan briefly before she set the console down on the table.
“Cassidy Yen,” she said without preamble, extending a hand toward Ethan.
“Ethan West,” he replied, shaking her hand. Her grip was firm but brief, and she withdrew as quickly as she had approached.
Cassidy took the empty seat, opening her console and beginning to type rapidly. “I see you’ve met the rest of the gang,” she said, her tone dry. “Welcome to Team 1. We’re dysfunctional, but we get the job done.”
Ying frowned. “Cassidy.”
She raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t stop typing. “What? It’s true.”
Ethan watched the exchange with interest. Cassidy’s demeanor was a stark contrast to Ying’s discipline and Anna’s quiet intensity. She seemed to exist on the fringes of the team, her role seems essential but detached.
“I’ve loaded the training protocols for tomorrow,” Cassidy said, gesturing to her console. “Make sure you’re ready, West. I’d hate for you to wash out on your first day.”
“Not planning to,” Ethan said evenly.
Cassidy smirked, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
As the meeting came to the end, Ying leaned forward, his gaze sweeping over the team. “We’ve been through a lot,” he said, his voice quieter now. “But we can’t afford to let that slow us down. The missions don’t stop, and neither do we. West, you’re part of this now. Whatever’s in the past stays there. Focus on what’s ahead.”
Ethan nodded, the weight of Ying’s words settling on him. He didn’t know the full story of what had happened to Team 1, but he could feel its shadow lingering over them.
Ethan leaned against the doorframe of the briefing room for a moment, observing the way the team dispersed. Cassidy had left with her console tucked under her arm, her departure as abrupt as her arrival. The aloof Anna remained at the table, meticulously disassembling and reassembling her rifle with the same methodical precision she had displayed earlier. Captain Ying stood near the far wall, his arms crossed as he stared at a display screen cycling through mission reports.
The air in the room felt heavy, as though an unspoken weight pressed down on everyone present. Ethan had been in plenty of teams before—each with its unique chemistry, quirks, and challenges—but the atmosphere here was unlike anything he’d encountered. It wasn’t just tension; it was grief.
He stepped further into the room, letting the door slide shut behind him. Ying’s eyes flicked to him briefly but returned to the display. Ethan cleared his throat. “Captain, if this is a bad time...”
Ying turned, shaking his head. “No such thing as a good time around here, West. If you’ve got something to say, say it.”
Ethan hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “I get the sense that your last mission didn’t go as planned.”
Ying’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes hardened slightly. “It didn’t.”
Anna let out a quiet snort but didn’t look up from her rifle. “That’s putting it mildly.”
Ethan looked between them, gauging their reactions. “What happened?”
The silence that followed was deafeningly loud. Ying’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, Ethan thought the captain might brush off the question entirely. But then Ying spoke, his voice low and measured.
“We lost Azril.”
The name hung in the air like a thunderclap. Ethan had heard it before, mentioned briefly during the earlier meeting, but no details had been given. Now he understood why.
“He was our point man,” Ying continued, his tone clipped. “Reliable. Brave. Always the first to face whatever was out there.”
Anna set her rifle down with a little more force than necessary, the sound breaking the tension. “And now he’s gone,” she said bluntly. “Because we underestimated what we were walking into.”
Ethan watched her carefully, noting the tightness in her jaw and the way her hands lingered on the rifle as if it were a lifeline.
“What happened?” Ethan asked again, softer this time.
Ying and Anna exchanged a glance, and for a moment, it seemed like neither wanted to answer. Finally, Ying stepped forward, folding his arms across his chest.
“We were investigating disappearances near the Vietnam-China border,” he said. “Locals reported seeing what they called a Ma Trành—a tiger demon servant. We thought it was one of the usual cases: local folklore mixed with hysteria. Turns out, it wasn’t.”
Anna picked up the story, her voice cold. “It wasn’t a tiger demon. It was something worse. Ghouls.”
Ethan frowned. “Ghouls?”
Anna nodded. “They shouldn’t have been there. That’s the point. We were unprepared because we didn’t expect them to be outside their usual territory. By the time we realized what we were dealing with, it was too late. Azril bought us enough time to get out, but he didn’t make it.”
The room fell silent again, the weight of their words pressing down on Ethan. He didn’t need to ask why they were telling him this. It was more than just recounting a mission—it was a warning.
Anna stood abruptly, slinging her rifle over her shoulder. “I need some air,” she muttered, brushing past Ethan without making eye contact.
He watched her go, her footsteps fading as the door slid shut behind her.
Ying sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “She hasn’t been the same since it happened. None of us have.”
Ethan nodded, his mind racing. He had been in situations where teammates didn’t make it back, but the supernatural element added a layer of complexity he wasn’t used to. “How do you keep going after something like that?”
Ying’s gaze hardened. “You don’t have a choice. Missions keep coming, and if we stop, more people die. It’s that simple.”
The bluntness of the statement struck Ethan, but he appreciated the honesty. “What about you?” he asked. “How are you holding up?”
Ying didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned back to the display screen, staring at the scrolling mission reports. “Azril was more than just a teammate,” he said finally. “He was the heart of this team. Replacing him isn’t going to be easy, but I have to believe we made the right call bringing you in.”
Ethan straightened at the comment, feeling the weight of the responsibility Ying had just placed on him. “I won’t let you down, Captain.”
“See that you don’t,” Ying replied, his voice firm but not unkind.
Later that evening, Ethan found himself wandering the base’s corridors, his thoughts heavy. The tension in the team was palpable, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was stepping into a role no one wanted filled.
He rounded a corner and found Anna leaning against a railing overlooking the training grounds. She didn’t acknowledge him as he approached, her gaze fixed on the activity below.
“Hey,” Ethan said quietly, stopping a few feet away.
Anna didn’t respond immediately. When she finally spoke, her voice was softer than he expected. “He shouldn’t have died.”
Ethan hesitated, unsure how to respond. “It sounds like he saved your lives.”
She shook her head. “We shouldn’t have needed saving. We were sloppy. We let our guard down because we thought we knew what we were dealing with. He paid the price for that.”
Ethan stepped closer, resting his arms on the railing. “I wasn’t there, so I can’t speak to what happened. But from what I’ve seen, you’re not sloppy. You’re still here, which means you’re strong enough to keep going. That matters.”
Anna glanced at him, her expression unreadable. “We’ll see,” she said finally, before pushing off the railing and walking away.
Ethan watched her go, the weight of the team’s grief settling on his shoulders. He had a long way to go to earn their trust, but he was determined to try.
After the brief interaction , Ethan decided to just get back to his barracks.
The empty bunk in the barracks felt like a void that swallowed every sound in the room. Ethan couldn’t help but notice how the bed was left untouched, as if its occupant might return at any moment. A duffel bag sat on the floor beside it, zipped up neatly, and a pair of boots were tucked precisely under the edge. It was a small but deliberate shrine, a subtle reminder that Azril had once been part of the team—and a stark symbol of his absence.
Ethan didn’t need to ask whose bunk it was. He could feel it in the way the rest of the room seemed to avoid looking at it, their silence heavy with unspoken grief.
Captain Ying stood by the door, his arms crossed. He had just finished briefing the team on the training schedule for the next day, his tone clipped and matter-of-fact. When no one spoke, he turned and left the room, leaving Ethan alone with Anna and Cassidy.
Cassidy sat at the far end of the room, her back hunched over a laptop. The glow of the screen cast faint shadows across her face, highlighting the intensity of her focus. Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she muttered under her breath, seemingly oblivious to Ethan’s presence.
Anna, on the other hand, sat on the edge of her bunk, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She stared at the floor, her expression distant.
Ethan hesitated, then cleared his throat. “I get the sense that Azril was important to all of you,” he said carefully.
Anna’s head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. “What gave it away?”
Ethan flinched at the sharpness of her tone but didn’t back down. “The way you all talk about him. Or don’t talk about him.”
Cassidy snorted from her corner, though she didn’t look up from her laptop. “Welcome to Team 1,” she said dryly. “Where everyone’s coping in their own special way.”
“Shut up, Cassidy,” Anna snapped.
“Am I wrong?” Cassidy shot back, her tone calm but cutting. She finally looked up, her dark eyes locking on Anna. “You think I don’t care? That I didn’t feel it when we lost him?”
Anna stood abruptly, her hands balling into fists. “Don’t act like you know how I feel. You weren’t even there when it happened.”
Cassidy’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she turned back to her laptop, her fingers resuming their rapid typing.
Ethan stepped between them, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “Hey, take it easy,” he said. “This isn’t helping anyone.”
Anna glared at him for a moment, then exhaled sharply and sat back down. “Sorry,” she muttered, though it wasn’t clear who she was apologizing to.
Ethan sat on the bunk across from her, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Do you want to tell me about him?” he asked.
Anna hesitated, her eyes flicking toward the empty bunk. “He was the best of us,” she said finally, her voice low. “Always the first one in, always ready to take the risks no one else would.”
“Too ready,” Cassidy interjected quietly.
Anna shot her a warning look, but Cassidy ignored it. “Azril was a damn hero,” she continued, her tone softer now. “But he believed he was untouchable. That nothing could get to him. And that’s why...” She trailed off, her eyes dropping back to her screen.
“That’s why he’s not here,” Anna finished bitterly.
Ethan let the silence stretch between them, sensing that neither woman wanted to elaborate further. He glanced at the empty bunk again, trying to picture the man who had occupied it. A hero, a risk-taker, a point man. Someone who had left a hole in the team that might never be filled.
“Do you think he blames us?” Anna asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ethan turned to her, surprised by the vulnerability in her tone. “Blames you?”
“For not saving him,” she said. She looked up at Ethan, her gray eyes filled with a mix of guilt and anger. “For leaving him behind.”
Ethan shook his head. “I don’t know what happened out there, but from what I’ve heard, he made his choice. He saved you because he thought it was the right thing to do. I don’t think he’d want you carrying that weight.”
Anna looked away, her jaw tightening. “Easy for you to say. You weren’t there.”
“No,” Ethan admitted. “But I’ve lost people too. And I know that guilt doesn’t go away just because someone tells you it’s not your fault. You have to decide what to do with it.”
Anna didn’t respond, her gaze fixed on the floor.
Cassidy closed her laptop with a soft click, breaking the silence. “You know,” she said, her tone lighter, “Azril had this annoying habit of playing music during downtime. Bad music. Like, ‘80s synth-pop bad.”
Anna blinked, startled by the shift in conversation.
Cassidy smirked faintly. “He used to drive me crazy with it. Said it helped him think.”
A small, reluctant smile tugged at Anna’s lips. “I hated that, too,” she admitted. “But he always managed to make it fun. He’d start dancing like an idiot, and you couldn’t help but laugh.”
Ethan watched as the tension in the room eased slightly, the memory of Azril bringing a moment of levity.
Cassidy leaned back in her chair, her gaze softening. “He was one of a kind,” she said.
Anna nodded, her smile fading but not disappearing entirely. “Yeah, he was.”
The conversation dwindled, each person retreating into their own thoughts. Ethan felt a sense of progress, however small. They were grieving, yes, but they were also remembering—keeping Azril’s presence alive in their own way.
As the lights dimmed in the barracks, Ethan lay on his bunk, staring at the ceiling. He thought about the stories they had shared, the weight of Azril’s absence, and the challenge of stepping into a role that had been left behind.
Tomorrow, the real work will start. But tonight, Ethan allowed himself to feel the gravity of what it meant to be part of this team—a team still learning how to heal.
Ethan woke to the sound of faint typing echoing through the dimly lit barracks. He blinked a few times, his mind still tethered to the restless dreams that had haunted him in the night. Sitting up, he spotted Cassidy Yen at the far end of the room, hunched over her portable console. Her face was illuminated by the glow of the screen, her expression calm and detached.
For a moment, he considered going back to sleep again, but something about her drew his curiosity. She had been the hardest to read so far—enigmatic, sharp-tongued, and utterly unreadable. If Ethan was going to integrate into this team, he needed to understand her, even if only a little.
Cassidy didn’t bother to acknowledge his approach until he was standing beside her. She glanced up briefly, her dark eyes locking onto his before flicking back to the screen. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“Could’ve asked you the same question,” Ethan replied, crossing his arms.
She smirked faintly, typing a few more commands before setting the console aside. “Sleep isn’t a luxury I indulge in often. Too many moving parts.”
Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”
Cassidy leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms before fixing him with a calculating gaze. “Like keeping this team alive.”
“That’s Ying’s job, isn’t it?”
Cassidy chuckled, though the sound lacked humor. “Ying leads in the field, sure. But the things I do? The tech, the strategy, the foresight? That’s what stops us from walking into a meat grinder. Most of the time, anyway.”
Ethan caught the bitterness in her tone. “You mean Azril.”
Cassidy’s smirk disappeared, replaced by a hard expression. “Azril didn’t die because of a lack of preparation. He died because... Well, because he was Azril. Always rushing ahead, always playing the hero.”
She stared at the empty bunk across the room, her fingers tapping idly against the armrest of her chair. “But yeah, I still blame myself. Maybe if I’d given him better intel, he wouldn’t have been so eager to jump into that cave.”
Ethan frowned, taking a seat across from her. “You’re not the only one carrying that weight, you know. Anna, Ying—they’re both wrestling with it too.”
Cassidy’s lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “Yeah, but they process it differently. Anna internalizes everything, and Ying? He buries it under his military-grade stoicism. Me? I work. That’s how I keep it together.”
Ethan studied her for a moment, noting the faint circles under her eyes and the tension in her posture. Cassidy’s confident, almost cocky demeanor was a mask, but he wasn’t sure what lay beneath it yet.
“You seem like you’ve been at this a long time,” Ethan said, trying to steer the conversation into less volatile territory. “How’d you end up here?”
Her smile returned, sharper this time. “That’s a story for another day. Let’s just say my family has... connections to The Division. Deep ones.”
Ethan leaned forward, intrigued. “Connections? What kind of connections?”
Cassidy hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly. For a moment, it seemed like she might brush him off entirely, but then she sighed. “Fine. You want to know? My grandfather was part of the group that founded The Division after World War II. He was... involved in some experiments during the war. Experiments that the Allies wanted buried.”
Her words hung in the air, heavy with implication.
“What kind of experiments?” Ethan asked, his voice cautious.
Cassidy’s gaze darkened. “The kind you don’t talk about in polite company. Let’s just say he learned a lot about things that shouldn’t exist. When the war ended, he helped create The Division to deal with those things. The secrets, the artifacts, the monsters.”
Ethan exhaled slowly, letting the revelation sink in. “And you? You just followed in his footsteps?”
“Not exactly,” Cassidy said, her tone guarded. “I wasn’t given much of a choice. It’s the family legacy, you know? Yen blood runs in The Division. My parents, my uncles—they all worked here at some point. I guess you could say I was born into it.”
Ethan frowned. “That’s a hell of a legacy to carry.”
Cassidy shrugged. “It is what it is. Besides, I’m good at what I do. And as much as I might complain, I believe in the mission. Someone has to keep the world spinning, right?”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Her words struck a chord with Ethan. He had joined The Division to find answers, but the more he learned about his new team, the more he realized how deeply intertwined they were with the organization’s purpose. For Cassidy, this wasn’t just a job—it was her identity.
“So,” Cassidy said, breaking the silence. “What about you, West? What brought you here?”
Ethan hesitated. “Same as everyone else, I guess. I saw things I couldn’t explain, and The Division decided I’d be useful.”
Cassidy tilted her head, her expression skeptical. “You’re being modest. I read your file. Navy SEAL, decorated operative, multiple commendations. You’re not just here because you saw weird shadows in the jungle. Someone high up thinks you’re special.”
Ethan snorted. “I think ‘special’ might be overstating it.”
“Maybe,” Cassidy said, her tone softening. “But you’re here now. And if you’re smart, you’ll learn fast. This side of the world doesn’t wait for slow learners.”
Before Ethan could respond, Cassidy stood, picking up her console. “Anyway, that’s enough bonding for one night. Training starts at 0600. Don’t be late.”
She turned and walked toward the door, pausing just before it slid open. “One more thing, West.”
Ethan looked up.
“The hardest part of this job isn’t what’s out there,” Cassidy said, tapping the side of her head. “It’s what’s in here. Remember that.”
With that, she disappeared into the hallway, leaving Ethan alone with his thoughts.
As he settled back onto his bunk, Ethan replayed her words in his mind. The hardest part wasn’t the monsters or the missions—it was the mental toll, the weight of knowing what lay beyond the veil of normalcy.
He closed his eyes, clutching the Division badge in his hand. Tomorrow would bring more challenges, more revelations, and more glimpses into the unknown. But for now, he allowed himself a moment of rest, knowing that the real trials were yet to come.
The next morning, Ethan entered the main training hall to find Captain Ying Wei standing near a steel table laden with weapons and tactical gear. Ying’s sharp eyes tracked every recruit and team member entering the room, his posture rigid and commanding. Ethan’s instincts, honed from years in the SEALs, told him that this was a man who expected nothing short of perfection from those under his command and especially Ethan who’s under his direct command.
Cassidy Yen arrived shortly after, her console tucked under her arm as usual. She didn’t look at Ying as she set up her equipment at a nearby workstation. Her movements were quick and efficient, but there was an edge to them that Ethan hadn’t noticed the night before.
Anna Keen herself was already present from the beginning, leaning against a wall with her arms crossed, her sniper rifle slung over her shoulder. She watched the room with her usual detached calm, her expression unreadable.
“Good,” Ying said, clapping his hands together once. “We’re all here.”
He stepped toward the table, gesturing to the array of equipment. “Today’s session is straightforward: close-quarters combat drills. The kind of engagements you’re most likely to encounter in the field.”
Cassidy snorted softly, the sound barely audible but enough to draw Ying’s attention. His eyes narrowed.
“Something to add, Cassidy?”
Cassidy didn’t look up from her console. “Nothing at all, Captain. Just wondering how often close-quarters tactics work against creatures with claws the size of machetes.”
The tension in the room spiked instantly. Ethan glanced between the two, unsure whether he should intervene or stay silent.
“Close-quarters combat saves lives when you’re out of options,” Ying said, his accented voice tighten. “It’s not up for debate.”
Cassidy finally looked up, meeting his gaze with a calm defiance. “No, it’s not. But if we’re talking about saving lives, maybe we should spend less time punching targets and more time improving intel so we don’t get ambushed in the first place.”
Anna shifted uncomfortably against the wall, her expression suggesting this wasn’t the first time she’d witnessed this exchange.
Ying’s jaw clenched. “You think I don’t understand the importance of intel?”
“I think you’re so focused on making us soldiers that you forget the monsters don’t play by the same rules,” Cassidy shot back.
Ethan stepped forward, raising a hand. “Hey, sorry to interrupt but maybe we can focus on what we’re here for instead of tearing each other apart?”
Both Ying and Cassidy turned to him, their expressions equally sharp.
“You’re out of line, West,” Ying said, though there was no malice in his tone.
Cassidy, on the other hand with her faintly visible smirk. “Nice try, new guy. But this is how we work things out. Isn’t that right, Captain?”
Ying didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he turned back to the table and picked up a knife, holding it up for the team to see.
“This is a last resort,” he said, his voice cold and controlled. “But when you’re in the field, sometimes a last resort is all you have. You don’t want to use it? Fine. Hope you’ve got a backup plan when you’re staring death in the face.”
Cassidy rolled her eyes but didn’t respond.
The training session that followed was grueling. Ying put the team through a series of drills designed to simulate high-pressure, close-quarters scenarios. Ethan quickly realized that while Ying’s methods were demanding, they were effective.
Cassidy, however, seemed less invested. She completed the drills with minimal effort, her movements efficient but lacking the intensity Ying demanded. When the session ended, Ying approached her directly.
“You want to explain that performance?” he asked, his tone sharp.
Cassidy shrugged. “I did what you asked. What more do you want?”
“I want you to take this seriously,” Ying snapped. “The next mission could be life or death. You think you’ll have time to complain about tactics when something’s trying to rip your head off?”
Cassidy’s expression darkened. “Maybe if you listened to my complaints, we wouldn’t end up in those situations to begin with.”
Ethan stepped between them, his voice firm. “Enough. You’re both on the same side, remember?”
Ying’s eyes flicked to Ethan, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he stepped back, exhaling through his nose. “Fine. We’re done here for now.”
Cassidy didn’t wait for his dismissal. She picked up her console and walked away, her footsteps echoing as she disappeared into the corridor.
Anna approached Ethan as he watched Cassidy leave, her tone quiet. “You handled that better than most.”
Ethan turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “You mean they argue like that all the time?”
Anna smirked faintly. “More than they should. Cassidy thinks Ying is too rigid. Ying thinks Cassidy is too reckless. They’re both right, in their own ways.”
“And you?” Ethan asked. “Where do you stand?”
Anna shrugged. “I stand where I need to. Someone has to keep the peace.”
Ethan nodded, appreciating her pragmatism. “What’s Cassidy’s deal anyway? She seems... different.”
“She is,” Anna said simply. “She’s brilliant, but she doesn’t trust easily. Ying doesn’t make that any easier.”
“More so since last mission…”, whispered Anna.
“Hmm…what's that?”, inquired Ethan as he didn't quite hear the last part of whatever Anna was whispering.
“Nothing.”, replied Anna nonchalantly.
The tension that had permeated the training session lingered long after the drills ended. Ethan could feel it in the way the team moved around the base, each member retreating to their own corners to cool off. Ying spent the afternoon in the command center, reviewing mission reports, while Cassidy buried herself in technical diagnostics. Anna disappeared to the shooting range, leaving Ethan to wander the facility and acclimate to his new surroundings.
By the evening, the air in the barracks had softened. The team’s routines brought them back together, though they remained distant, orbiting each other like wary planets in the same solar system. Ethan decided to try a different approach.
He retrieved a portable coffee maker from his duffel bag—a habit he’d picked up during his SEAL days—and set it up on a small counter in the corner. As the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the room, it wasn’t long before curiosity drew the others in.
Cassidy was the first to wander over, her nose wrinkling slightly as she eyed the machine. “You brought a coffee maker?” she asked, incredulous.
Ethan grinned. “Call it a peace offering. Or a bribe. Either works.”
Ying entered next, drawn by the smell but saying nothing. He simply nodded in acknowledgment, his face impassive as he poured himself a cup. Anna followed, her expression softening for the first time that day.
The team gathered loosely around the small table in the center of the room, cups of coffee in hand. For a moment, there was only the sound of sipping and the faint hum of the base’s ventilation system.
Ethan decided to break the silence. “So, who’s going to tell me about Azril? I keep hearing his name, but I don’t really know who he was.”
The room went quiet. Anna stared into her cup, Cassidy leaned back in her chair, and Ying’s jaw tightened slightly. For a moment, Ethan thought he had made a mistake.
Then Cassidy spoke, her voice softer than usual. “Azril was... unforgettable. He was the kind of guy who could walk into the worst situation and still make you laugh.”
Anna nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. He had this ridiculous habit of quoting bad action movies in the middle of missions. It was so annoying.”
“But you laughed every time,” Cassidy said, smirking.
Anna rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it.
Ying set his cup down, his expression unreadable. “Azril was fearless. He had a way of making you believe that no matter what was out there, we could handle it. He was more than just a teammate. He was the heart of this team.”
The room grew somber again, the weight of Azril’s absence settling over them.
Cassidy leaned forward, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Do you remember that time in Malaysia? The pontoon mission?”
Anna groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Don’t remind me.”
“What happened?” Ethan asked, intrigued.
Cassidy grinned. “We were tracking something in the mangroves—something nasty. Azril decided to take a shortcut across a rickety old pontoon bridge. Halfway across, he realizes the thing is falling apart, so what does he do? He starts quoting Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom and yelling, ‘I’ll never let go, Dr. Jones!’”
Anna groaned again, though a faint smile had crept onto her face. “And then the bridge collapsed, and he ended up waist-deep in swamp water.”
“With leeches all over his body,” Cassidy added, laughing.
Ying chuckled quietly, a rare sound that caught Ethan by surprise. “And he still managed to take down the target while covered in mud and complaining about the smell.”
The team’s laughter faded into a comfortable silence, the shared memory softening the edges of their grief. Ethan could see the bond they shared, forged in hardship and loss. He felt like an outsider still, but the moment gave him a glimpse of what he was working toward—a place in this family, fractured as it was.
“I wish I’d met him,” Ethan said, his tone sincere.
Cassidy raised her cup in a small toast. “Here’s to Azril. Gone, but never forgotten.”
The others followed suit, their cups clinking softly in the quiet room.
As the evening wore on, the conversation drifted to lighter topics—training routines, strange anomalies they’d encountered, and Cassidy’s ongoing feud with one of the base’s autonomous drones.
Ying excused himself first, muttering something about early preparations for the next day’s briefing. Anna left not long after, saying she needed to clean her rifle before lights-out. That left Ethan and Cassidy alone at the table.
Cassidy tapped her fingers against the side of her cup, her expression thoughtful. “You handled that well, you know.”
“What do you mean?” Ethan asked.
“Getting us to talk about Azril,” she said. “It’s been... hard. We’ve all been dealing with it in our own ways, but we don’t talk about it much. At least, not together.”
Ethan shrugged. “I figured it was worth a shot. Sometimes it helps to remember the good stuff, even if it hurts.”
Cassidy nodded, a faint smile crossing her lips. “Yeah. It does.”
When Ethan finally returned to his bunk, he felt a sense of quiet accomplishment. The road ahead was still uncertain, but for the first time, he felt like he had taken a step toward something real.
As he lay down, his mind drifted back to the image of the empty bunk—the place Azril had left behind. It wasn’t just a reminder of what the team had lost; it was a challenge, a space waiting to be filled.
Ethan closed his eyes, his resolve hardening. Whatever it took, he was ready to step into the void.
The next morning, Ethan woke to the faint hum of the barracks’ ventilation system and the distant sounds of activity echoing through the base. He rubbed his eyes, the memories of the previous evening still fresh in his mind. The team’s laughter, the stories about Azril, and even Cassidy’s subtle approval felt like small victories, but Ethan knew better than to mistake them for acceptance.
As he prepared for the day, he noticed that the others had already left. The room felt emptier without them, but the lingering presence of Azril’s untouched bunk served as a silent reminder of what was at stake. Ethan’s resolve hardened as he left the barracks, determined to prove himself worthy of the place he had been given.
The training hall was alive with activity when he arrived. Anna was at the shooting range, her sniper rifle balanced on a high-tech rest as she practiced long-range shots against moving holographic targets. Cassidy sat in a corner, surrounded by glowing monitors displaying lines of code and tactical data. Ying was pacing near the center of the room, his sharp eyes scanning a set of mission briefings spread across a table.
Ethan approached Ying, who looked up and nodded curtly. “You’re on time. Good.”
“What’s on the agenda today?” Ethan asked.
Ying gestured toward the shooting range, where Anna’s shots rang out with precise, rhythmic cracks. “Tactics and coordination. It’s one thing to train individually. It’s another to operate as a team. That’s what today is about.”
Ethan followed Ying’s gaze. “Makes sense. I’ve worked with teams before.”
Ying’s expression hardened slightly. “Not like this one.”
The day’s training centered around small-unit tactics, with Ying running the team through a series of scenarios designed to test their ability to function as a cohesive unit. Ethan quickly realized that Team 1’s dynamic was both a strength and a challenge.
Anna was precise and efficient, her calm demeanor a steadying influence in the chaos of their simulated missions. Cassidy’s technical expertise was unparalleled; she controlled drones and sensors with a finesse that bordered on artistry. But their individual strengths sometimes clashed, and Ying’s demanding leadership style only added to the tension.
Ethan found himself caught in the middle, trying to navigate the subtle currents of the team’s fractured dynamic.
In one scenario, the team was tasked with infiltrating a simulated enemy compound. Ethan took point, moving cautiously through the dimly lit space as Cassidy monitored their progress through her console.
“West, you’ve got movement on your nine,” Cassidy’s voice crackled through his earpiece.
Ethan pivoted smoothly, his rifle tracking a holographic target that emerged from the shadows. He fired two precise shots, dropping the target before it could react.
“Nice,” Cassidy muttered. “Maybe you’ll survive your first mission after all.”
“Focus, Yen,” Ying snapped.
Cassidy rolled her eyes but didn’t respond, her attention returning to her console.
As the day progressed, Ethan began to feel the weight of the team’s expectations. Ying’s intensity pushed him to his very limits, and Anna’s silent scrutiny was a constant reminder that her trust had to be earned. Even Cassidy’s occasional sarcasm carried an undercurrent of challenge, as if she was testing his ability to adapt.
During a brief break, Ethan sat beside Anna, who was meticulously cleaning her rifle.
“You don’t say much during training,” he observed.
She glanced at him, her expression remain neutral. “Actions speak louder than words.”
Ethan nodded. “Fair enough. But actions only get you so far. Communication’s part of teamwork too.”
Anna smirked faintly. “Then communicate. What do you think you bring to this team, West?”
The question caught him off guard, but he answered without hesitation. “Discipline. Adaptability. And a willingness to learn.”
Anna studied him for a moment before nodding. “We’ll see.”
By the end of the day, the team had completed multiple scenarios, each more demanding than the last. Ethan felt a sense of accomplishment as they wrapped up the final exercise, but he knew there was still much more to prove. Much more to do.
Ying gathered them in the briefing room for a debrief, his tone as sharp as ever.
“You’re making progress,” he said, his eyes sweeping over the team. “But we’re not there yet. You need to trust each other. Without that, you’re just four individuals pretending to be a team.”
His gaze lingered on Ethan. “West, you did well today. But remember, your role isn’t just about performing. It’s about earning their trust. That takes time.”
Ethan nodded, the weight of Ying’s words settling on him. “Understood, Captain.”
As the team dispersed, Cassidy lingered near the door, her console tucked under her arm. She glanced at Ethan, her expression unreadable.
“You did okay today,” she said.
“Thanks,” Ethan replied. “That means a lot coming from you.”
Cassidy smirked faintly. “Don’t let it go to your head. You’re still the new guy.”
She turned and left, leaving Ethan alone in the briefing room.
That night, as he sat on his bunk, Ethan replayed the day’s events in his mind. He thought about Ying’s relentless drive, Anna’s guarded demeanor, and Cassidy’s sharp intellect. He understood now that his role wasn’t just about filling Azril’s shoes—it was about helping the team heal and find their way forward.
The journey wouldn’t be easy, but Ethan was ready for the challenge.
The following evening, Ethan found himself in the common area, nursing a cup of coffee as the base settled into its usual rhythm. The hum of activity had dulled to a quiet murmur, with most of the personnel focused on their tasks or retreating to their quarters. Ethan had intended to take some time alone to reflect on the day’s training, but Cassidy Yen had other plans.
She appeared suddenly, dropping into the chair across from him with her usual air of casual defiance. Her console was absent for once, and she carried a steaming cup of tea.
“You look like you’ve got questions,” she said, leaning back in her chair and raising an eyebrow.
Ethan blinked, caught off guard by her directness. “Do I?”
Cassidy smirked. “You’ve been watching me all day, trying to figure me out. Don’t worry—it’s normal. Everyone does it at first.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Fair enough. You’re not exactly easy to read.”
“Good,” she said, taking a sip of her tea. “That’s intentional.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the low buzz of the base’s systems filling the air. Ethan decided to take her bait. “Fine. Since you brought it up—what’s your story? You mentioned last time that your family’s tied to The Division. How deep does that connection go?”
Cassidy tilted her head, studying him as if deciding how much to reveal. “Deep enough that I’ve known about monsters and myths since I could walk. My grandfather was one of the founders. He helped build this organization from the ground up after the Second World War.”
“Founders?” Ethan asked, leaning forward.
She nodded. “The war was a turning point. People think it ended with Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but there were... other events. Things that didn’t make the history books. My grandfather was a scientist working on classified projects—things designed to deal with more than just human enemies.”
“What kind of projects?” Ethan pressed.
Cassidy’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Let’s just say they were trying to understand the unknown. Monsters, relics, anomalies—things no one believed existed until they saw them up close. After the war, he and a handful of others decided the world needed a way to deal with those threats. That’s how The Division was born.”
Ethan absorbed her words, the weight of them settling on him. “And your family stayed involved?”
“Not by choice,” Cassidy said, her tone bitter. “Once you’re part of this world, it doesn’t let you go. My parents worked for The Division too, but they... didn’t make it.”
Ethan hesitated. “I’m sorry.”
Cassidy waved him off. “Don’t be. It comes with the territory. You’ve been in combat—you know how it works. You don’t survive this job without scars, and not all of them are physical.”
Her words struck a chord with Ethan. He thought of the missions that had haunted him, the faces he couldn’t forget. “So why stay? Why not walk away?”
Cassidy’s smirk returned, but it lacked its usual edge. “Because someone has to. If we don’t, who will? The world doesn’t even know we exist, let alone what we’re fighting. And honestly, I’m good at this. Might as well use it for something worthwhile.”
Ethan leaned back, nodding slowly. “You don’t trust easily, do you?”
Cassidy laughed softly. “You noticed that, huh? No, I don’t. Trust gets you killed in this line of work. But...” She paused, her gaze flicking to the table between them. “I’m learning. Azril helped with that. And maybe you will too.”
The mention of Azril hung in the air, the unspoken loss shared between them. Ethan didn’t push further, sensing that Cassidy had said as much as she was willing to.
After a few moments, she stood, her tea left forgotten on the table. “Anyway, I’ve got work to do. Don’t let Ying push you too hard tomorrow. Sometimes he forgets that not everyone’s a machine like him.”
Ethan smiled faintly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
As Cassidy walked away, he realized that her walls, while formidable, weren’t impenetrable. She carried the weight of her family’s legacy and the scars of her past, but there was a strength in her that couldn’t be denied.
Ethan finished his coffee, his thoughts swirling with everything he had learned. Cassidy’s cryptic insights had given him a glimpse into the history of The Division—and the burden carried by those who fought to protect a world that would never know their sacrifice.
The next morning began like any other days Ethan had experienced since arriving at the base, but there was an undercurrent of tension that felt sharper than usual. The team was set to participate in a simulated mission—one designed to test not just their individual skills but their ability to function as a cohesive unit. For Ethan, it felt like a proving ground, a chance to show that he could pull his weight among people who had every reason to doubt him.
As he entered the training hall, Captain Ying Wei was already there, his posture as rigid as ever. Anna was inspecting her sniper rifle, her expression focused but calm. Cassidy stood near a bank of consoles, her hands moving deftly over the controls as holographic projections of the mission environment flickered into existence.
“West,” Ying called, his voice sharp. “Get over here.”
Ethan approached, his boots echoing against the polished floor.
“You’ve been here long enough to learn the basics,” Ying said, his eyes narrowing. “Now it’s time to see if you can keep up when it counts.”
Ethan nodded, keeping his expression neutral. “Understood, Captain.”
The simulation briefing was straightforward but intense. The team was tasked with infiltrating a fortified compound to extract a high-value target—a scenario that mirrored real-world operations against supernatural entities hiding in human strongholds. The holographic projections displayed everything from enemy placements to environmental hazards, and Cassidy’s voice provided a steady stream of data as the team reviewed their plan.
“The compound is rigged with motion sensors and heat traps,” Cassidy explained. “You’ll need to move carefully. Ying, you’ll take points. West, you’re second in line. Anna, you’ll provide overwatch from the adjacent ridge. I’ll be running comms and drone support.”
Ethan studied the layout, his mind racing as he absorbed the details. The simulated mission was designed to push them to their limits, and failure is a luxury he couldn’t effort currently.
As the team geared up, Ethan noticed the quiet focus that settled over them. Ying moved with the precision of a soldier who had done this countless times before. Anna’s calm demeanor never wavered, her rifle slung across her back as she adjusted her equipment. Cassidy was the outlier, her light tone contrasting with the tension in the room.
“Remember, West,” Cassidy said as she handed him a comm device. “If you screw this up, I’ll make sure everyone knows it was your fault.”
Ethan smirked faintly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
She grinned. “Anytime.”
The simulation began with the team moving through a dense jungle environment, holographic trees and underbrush rendered in startling detail. Ying led the way, his movements deliberate and controlled, with Ethan following close behind. Anna’s voice crackled over the comms, providing periodic updates from her vantage point.
“All clear so far,” she reported. “No sign of hostiles yet.”
“Stay sharp,” Ying replied.
The tension was palpable as they approached the edge of the compound. Ethan could feel the weight of Ying’s gaze every time the captain glanced back to check their formation. He knew he was being evaluated, not just for his tactical skills but for his ability to function under pressure.
As they breached the compound’s perimeter, the scenario shifted. Holographic enemies appeared, their movements eerily lifelike. Ethan’s training kicked in as he fired at a group of advancing targets, his shots precise and efficient.
“Good,” Ying said over the comms. “Keep moving.”
Ethan’s heart raced as they cleared room after room, the simulated environment pushing him to react faster and think more critically than he ever had before. Every decision felt like a test, every move scrutinized.
In the control room, Cassidy monitored their progress, her fingers flying over the console as she directed a series of drones to scout ahead.
“You’ve got two hostiles at the next junction,” she said, her voice calm but urgent. “Ying, you take the left. West, cover the right.”
Ethan followed the instructions without hesitation, his shots dropping the holographic targets with surgical precision. He felt a flicker of satisfaction as Cassidy’s voice came through again.
“Not bad, new guy,” she said.
Ying’s voice cut in before Ethan could respond. “Focus. We’re not done yet.”
The final phase of the simulation was the most challenging. The team had to extract the high-value target while fending off a wave of enemies. Ethan’s adrenaline surged as he and Ying held the line, their weapons barking as they covered Anna’s retreat from the ridge.
“Target secured,” Anna reported over the comms, her voice steady despite the chaos.
“Fall back to the extraction point,” Ying ordered.
Ethan moved quickly, his eyes scanning for any remaining threats. He felt a surge of relief as the team reached the simulated extraction zone, the sound of the mission timer signaling their success.
As the simulation ended, the holographic environment faded, leaving the team standing in the sterile training hall. Ethan’s breathing was heavy, his muscles tense from the intensity of the exercise.
Ying approached him, his expression unreadable.
“You did well,” he said finally. “Better than I expected.”
Ethan felt a flicker of pride but kept his tone neutral. “Thank you, Captain.”
Ying nodded once, then turned to address the rest of the team. “We’ve made progress, but there’s still work to do. Dismissed.”
As the team began to disperse, Cassidy approached Ethan, her usual smirk in place. “Not bad, West. Maybe you’re not as green as I thought.”
“High praise coming from you,” he replied.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” she said, her tone teasing. “Ying might have been impressed, but I’ll be watching for mistakes.”
Ethan chuckled. “I’d expect nothing less.”
The simulated mission marked a turning point. While the team’s dynamic remained cautious, something had shifted in its undercurrents. The shared intensity of the exercise left them with a renewed sense of purpose—or at least the beginnings of one.
That evening, the team gathered in the common area for a debrief. Captain Ying stood at the head of the table, his arms crossed as he addressed them.
“Today was better,” he began, his tone clipped but less severe than usual. “We executed the mission successfully, and everyone did their part. West,” he said, turning to Ethan, “you’ve started to prove that you belong here. Keep it up.”
Ethan nodded, his expression steady. “Thank you, Captain.”
Ying’s gaze shifted to the rest of the team. “This is how we move forward. We work together, we adapt, and we trust each other. Understood?”
A murmur of agreement passed through the group.
The debrief ended, but no one moved to leave. Instead, Anna leaned back in her chair, an almost imperceptible smile playing on her lips. “Not bad for a new guy,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of approval.
Ethan raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It is,” she replied simply.
Cassidy chuckled from her corner, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. “Don’t let it go to your head, West. One good day doesn’t mean you’re invincible.”
Ethan smirked. “Duly noted. But I’ll take the wins where I can get them.”
Ying, standing quietly by the door, allowed himself a rare moment of relaxation. “Azril would’ve liked you,” he said, almost as an afterthought.
The room went silent at the mention of Azril’s name. The grief that lingered in the background resurfaced briefly, but this time it didn’t feel as heavy. Instead, it felt like a shared memory, something that bound them together rather than pushing them apart.
Anna broke the silence. “He would’ve called you something ridiculous, though. He had a knack for nicknames.”
Cassidy laughed softly. “Remember when he called the last recruit ‘Bambi’ because they tripped during drills?”
The group chuckled, the tension easing. Even Ying’s lips twitched upward in a faint smile.
Ethan leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “What would he have called me, then?”
Anna smirked. “Probably something military. SEAL-related. Like ‘Flippers’ or ‘Commander Fish.’”
“Commander Fish?” Ethan repeated, feigning offense.
“Yeah,” Cassidy added with a grin. “But you’d earn a better one eventually. Maybe.”
“So what do they call you back in your day in SEAL?”,Cassidy asked teasingly
“Oracle.”, Ethan added more with bated breath, seems reluctant to answer.” never fond of the name though.”
“Could have been worse.”Anna smirked again.” Could have been Captain Fish.”
As the laughter subsided, Ethan looked around the room, feeling for the first time that he wasn’t just an outsider trying to fit in. He was part of something bigger, something worth fighting for. The road ahead was still uncertain, but for the first time, he felt like he wasn’t walking it alone.
Ying cleared his throat, standing straighter. “All right, enough reminiscing. Get some rest. Tomorrow’s another day, and the missions won’t wait.”
The group dispersed, but the atmosphere was lighter. Ethan lingered for a moment, watching as the others filed out.
When he finally returned to his quarters, Ethan lay back on his bunk, staring at the ceiling. The badge on the table beside him caught the light, its symbol gleaming faintly in the darkness.
For the first time since arriving at the base, he felt a sense of belonging. Team 1 was far from perfect, but they were his team now. And no matter what challenges lay ahead, he was determined to be the teammate they needed.
Ethan closed his eyes, a quiet resolve settling over him. Tomorrow, the real work will begin.