Akeldama | lrh

seventeen

The first time Lieutenant Morgan brought Luke one of the letters, it was his second week of training.

Despite only being there for fourteen days Luke has sped through almost all of base one, whizzing through the physical tests and choosing his weapon with ease. He knew he was being watched, being studied, but it was of far greater extent then he could have imagined.

He had been sitting on one of the benches outside of the main weapon building, sharpening his knives. His nails were crusaded with dirt, his hands calloused and even bleeding in some places. Training was only halfway over for the day. Sweat shined on Luke's forehead, ran down his back, the heat of the sun blossoming freckles across his cheeks.

Lieutenant Morgan, who was a thin, tall man with huge biceps, walked out of the building to take a seat next to him. Luke had been confused, but didn't question him. It was considered one of the biggest sins a soldier could do.

"You're doing well, Hemmings." He had said to him, his eyes on the groups of soldiers jacking around the courtyard during their short midday break. There were only about forty of them total, including Luke. They were the 'elite' after all. Or so they had been told. "Better than anybody I've ever seen."

"Thank you, sir." Luke responded. His chest swelled with pride.

There was a short silence. Luke filled it by watching Ivy, swinging a sword under the legs of one of the other soldiers, laughing while her blonde ponytail swished around like a whip and the flame tattoo on her neck flared. She was, no doubt, one of the best there. Aside from Luke himself, of course. Calum had developed a massive crush on her the second day of training and had to be smacked back into shape. She was beautiful, fierce and bad ass, but Luke failed to see her as anything more than a friend.

"You know, my advisor is looking for people like you." He gave Luke a sideways glance, and that's when he noticed the slip of paper curled around his right thumb. "She needs elite soldiers who work on the inside. She's very interested in you."

Luke swallowed down his excitement, and kept his expression calm and cool. "Is that so? May I know her name?"

Morgan shook his head. "Not yet child." Then, as quick as the beat of a hummingbirds wing, he slipped the piece of paper into the pocket of Luke's cargo pants. "Read this later, when you know you will not be seen. I will be waiting on your response."

He said that last sentence extremely quietly, and if Luke hadn't trained his ears so well he wouldn't have caught it. Then, with a wink and pat on the shoulder, Lieutenant Morgan got up and walked away.

***

Later that night, Luke sat up in his cot, the blanket over his head with a flashlight in his hand. Carefully, he unrolled the slip of paper, revealing tiny neat print written in red ink.

Dear Mr. Hemmings,

You do know me, though I am not who you would expect. I certainly do know you. I have been watching your progress, and Lieutenant Morgan has been giving me updates on your performance. I can safely say that I am more than impressed.

I have been searching for a young, talented soldier like yourself to be my scout on the North American elite forces. Lieutenant Morgan has done a nice job, but I need somebody more talented, with more years to serve and more soldiers to watch.