The Hallowed

The Training

After that pleasant experience, I made my way down the hall like Tiph said, and I found what she was talking about. And once I saw the barracks, I knew where the headquarters was. I saw lines of doors, all walls reinforced with concrete, and bars everywhere, and I knew this must be the prison. I walked through the souless corridors, shaking. I looked at the different plaques above the doors. Mess Hall. I'll save that for later. Armory. I cannot WAIT  to get in there. "Guest Room." There's more than one? Ah, here it is, Basic Combat Training Course.

I walked through the doors and I was met with a gruff looking man, no younger than 50.

"You the new recruit?" A  gruff voice asked me.

"Not by choice, but yeah."

"What's your name?"

"Vanadium-51" I then cursed my instictual response, and the old man did as well.

"Not that asanine callsign, your real name. Do you even know how pre-collapse conversations work?" The old man told me, annoyance in his voice.

"I'm sorry. My name is Draythan Bolt."  I couldn't remember the last time I said that sentence.

"Much better. Cool sounding, too. My name is Simeon, but most call me Bain." He explained. "You're here to recieve your basic training so you can actually fight worth a damn and not run like a pansy. Nice work, by the way." He finished sarcastically.

"Thanks, I feel like I've really helped." I replied, monotonely.

"Drop the attitude, recruit. Head over to the door to my right, and you'll find some of my associates. They're all ready to meet you." He motioned to a door on his right which lead outside. I walked out the door and saw it was a clear day, with almost no clouds. I looked around and saw 2 people standing at the entrance to some cliche army training court, with tires to step in, barbed wire to crawl under, the usual stuff you see in movies. I walked over to the two men and stood at attention in front of them. The one on the left looked no younger than 40, with hair starting to gray at the roots, with a thick goatee covering his face. He spoke in a rough voice, like somone with smoker's lung. The one on the right looked a bit younger, but he had old burn scars on half of his face. They were both dressed in prison uniforms, but had masks attached to a belt they had clearly fashioned themselves.

"Hey there, buddy. What's your name?" The older looking one asked me.

"Va- Draythan Bolt is my name. You are?"

"Nicholas Myers, but folks call me Dayton-my hometown. My associate-" 

"Name's James Hunsworth, nice to meet you." The burnt man cut him off, but both seemed friendly and had an air of friendly competition about them. They also looked like they knew combat, as evidenced by their more burly builds.

"I'm here for some kinda basic training?" I spoke, realizing just how stupid I sounded, like some sort of lamb asking wolves for advice.

"We heard about that from Bain. He asked us to get you through it. We also have a third member, you'll meet him later. First things first, we need to get a feel for your physical fitness. You don't look out of shape, but when has that ever been a good indicator of strength?" Hunsworth tried to speak up, but was shut down by Dayton. "Now then, I want you to run through this course as fast as you can. Don't worry, we've got medical crew in case you hurt yourself." I didn't want to hear that, but it looked like my wants weren't a factor.

"Ready?" Dayton said as he brought a stopwatch out from his grubby suit.

"Let's do this."

Dayton raised a pistol into the air and shot it. I started running. First up was a form of balance beam. I was a prodigy on the playgrounds, so I passed it no problem. Next up was a wall I had to scale. I ran at it full speed, jumped, grabbed the top of it and pulled myself over. Next was the barbed wire, which had small scraps of fabric in it. I hit the deck as fast as I could and crawled under. I got cut a good bit though, by the time I got up my shirt was equal parts dirty and ripped. I kept moving though; next thing I had to face was the ropes, I was supposed to swing across. I jumped, grabbed the rope, swung forwards, back, and forwards again. I jumped off the rope and did a combat roll like some kind of movie hero. I turned the corner and saw a great red beam in front of me, with no obvious way around it. Another person was there, stopping me from vaulting it.

"WOAH! SLOW IT DOWN, MATE!" The man said

I stopped, almost toppling him over. I panted and looked him over. He wore a dirty, tattered suit with dried blood on his right side, but no visible wound. He had unkempt hair that looked like it was never combed, but he still carried himself professionally.

"Slow down, I'm here to brief ya before ya go on ahead. I'm to tells ya that this starts the live fire portion of the training. Are you ready, or do you need a breather?" He asked in an australian accent. Whether it was fake or not, I couldn't tell. I wanted a breather, but I figured I should just get it over with. I shook my head no, but couldn't get a word out. The aussie could tell I needed a break. He turned his back to me, and did some motion with his hands. He turned back to me and said "Ok, I got you 2 minutes as a breather, slow breaths, yeah?" He obviously dealt with this before. After 2 minutes I was ready. He sent up another signal and the red beam fell into the earth. The aussie gave me a thumbs up, and I was off again. Bullets roared past me as I sprinted from cover to cover, and over barricades. I was almost across when I felt a hot pain in my right leg, and fell to the ground on buckling knees. I crawled to the end and was met by Dayton and Hunsworth again, looked impressed but concerned.

"Ouch, buddy. That looks like it hurt. Don't worry, I've got my medic bag here, I'll take a look at it...yeah, that'll heal, it didn't hit anything important. You're lucky, though. Usually they don't miss as much." Dayton said with a smile.

Over the next few days I learned how to treat guns, carefully and respectfully because they can, in fact, fucking kill you. I learned how to treat basic injuries with Dayton, including gunshot wounds. I learned how to pack rounds into mags, the difference between gunshot sounds, and I even got to use an RPG. The aussie, who I learned was also named James, told me I shouldn't pack more than 2 rockets in total, or else my spine would be hurting. He proved this by making me carry 5 of them in only a backpack; I had to see Dayton after that one. I finished my training after a week, and once more met with Bain in the mess hall, which had been converted into a common room. It was full of people I've seen before, walking around the base, but they were all here to congratulate me; apparently bullets rarely hit recruits. Lucky me.

"Draythan, throughout my time here I've congratulated a lot of people, including that idiot James over there." The aussie looked in a sort of friendly annoyance as the crowd chuckled. "You are among my proudest, since you performed your own bullet removal surgery, with help from Dayton, of course. I am proud to say that you have passed Basic Combat Training: Welcome to the Hallowed." 

The room lit up with applause as I beamed with pride. This was it. I was finally going to show The Order that I could kick their asses, with a bit more time and practice. I'll free the world.