They walked into the mire, their eyes open 

The survivor of fire, the scars sear beneath 

It was dark, the sun still well below the horizon. Will glanced at the clock; 2 a.m. glowed back at him. Despite his exhaustion, sleep eluded him. His mind clung to the past, memories refusing to loosen their grip, haunting his waking hours. He sighed deeply, turning to his side to face the wall. Shadows danced on the surface, reminiscent of Melissa's graceful steps. He smiled faintly, remembering her twirling with effortless grace, her hair flowing as she moved. Whether there was music or not, she always found a rhythm. The memory brought a bittersweet comfort, lulling him into a fragile sleep.

His rest was short-lived. The blaring alarm ripped through the silence, marking the start of another grueling day. Will sat on the edge of the bed, stretching out stiff muscles from the week's relentless training. The barracks buzzed with early movement, fellow trainees already up and getting ready for the day.

Will dressed in a fresh training jumpsuit and headed to the communal bathroom. The sounds of the station grew louder with laughter and camaraderie, but Will felt detached, uninterested in joining the banter. He returned to his bunk, sitting quietly, emotion barely flickering on his face. The sudden, expected interruption jolted him.

"Hey, Adams!" The voice was booming, and the pat on his back was firm. Will tumbled off the bed, landing on the floor. He saw his military lead, Commander Mitchel Thomas, towering over him. Mitch was an imposing figure known for his military prowess and leadership. He was the cohort's commander and was interested in Will. To Mitch, they were like brothers; for reasons Will couldn't fully grasp, Mitch had attached to him.

With a broad smile, Mitch extended a hand, helping Will up.

"Thanks," Will muttered, rubbing his sore bottom, a grimace on his face.

Mitch's laugh was loud and hearty. "What's wrong? Still sore from yesterday?"

Will managed a wry smile. "Yeah, from the whole week. But I'll survive."

Mitch slapped him on the back again, this time more gently. "Good to hear. We've got a tough day ahead. Stay sharp."

Will nodded, trying to shake off the remnants of his dream. Mitch grinned and moved through the room, barking out instructions for the day. Will watched, a bit amused, as the trainees scrambled to meet each of Mitch's commands.

The day's training was going to be painful and intense, but Will welcomed the distraction. It kept his mind from wandering back to the memories. Will stepped into his assigned place as they lined up for roll call. Each trainee stepped up with an energetic response as their names were called out. Will followed suit, feigning excitement as he went through the moves. He couldn't muster the excitement the rest of the trainees seemed to embrace. He was here for one reason—to find a new purpose, contribute to something...and forget.

Mitch's voice cut through the morning air, sharp and authoritative. "Alright, listen up! Today's schedule is packed, and I expect nothing but your best. We'll start with endurance drills, followed by survival simulations. Let's move!"

The group dispersed, each trainee moving to their designated area. Will fell into step, muscles aching but his spirit unyielding. The familiar training rhythm took over, and each exercise tested will and strength. As he ran, climbed, and practiced tactical maneuvers, he felt the weight of his past begin to lift, replaced by the immediate challenge of survival and success.

Throughout the day, Mitch watched the trainees, his presence both a motivator and a reminder of the stakes. Will appreciated Mitch's leadership; his tough exterior hid a genuine concern for their well-being. This balance made him an effective leader, someone the trainees could rely on.By the time the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the training grounds, Will was exhausted but satisfied. Feeling he earned each drop of sweat and each strained muscle from the day's grueling training. The group gathered as the day winded down, for the end-of-day debrief. Mitch stood at the front, his gaze sweeping each team member with his stern expression. Despite his tough exterior, there was a hint of pride in his eyes.

As the group settled, Mitch began handing out acknowledgments and recognitions from the day's training. His voice, deep and commanding, carried across the field. "Today, I saw a lot of determination and hard work. I could feel your excitement and readiness." He paused, letting his words sink in. Cheers and enthusiastic yells erupted from the crowd, the energy palpable. Mitch continued, his tone shifting to a more serious note. "The word has come down. Your cohort launches in 10 days." The collection of trainees cheered, responding to Mitch's announcement. Launch day was close; this was the moment they trained for.

Will felt a surge of adrenaline. "10 days and we're gone," he whispered. The reality of their mission was setting in. As Mitch outlined what the final days would look like, Will's mind drifted. He faded between memories of his family to thoughts about what they were about to face. Mitch's voice broke through his thoughts like a hammer shattering glass. "You've proven yourselves capable, but the real test is yet to come. Tomorrow, you meet the Alphas."

A charged silence descended over the group, electrifying the air with tension. Everyone had heard whispers about the Alphas, but few knew the details. They were the elite, more than pioneers, believed to be mechanized units who had been preparing for this mission longer than anyone else. Adjusted and engineered to meet challenges beyond human capabilities. Meeting them signified the final, most critical stage of their training.

Mitch paused and looked over the crown, his eyes narrowed as he seemed to examine each of their faces. "Stay focused, stay sharp, and support each other. The mission is just beginning, and challenging times are ahead. You may regret having chosen to volunteer every day. Just know that the world depends on each of you. On each of us."

The gravity of his words settled heavily on Will, the Alphas. The Alphas were legends that civilians knew nothing about. There were whispers and rumors about them, but he didn't know anyone who had even seen one. Knowing they would see them tomorrow made most of the group more apprehensive than curious.

"Dismissed!" Mitch called with a commanding nod. The group dispersed, making their way back to the training barracks. Conversations spread, speculating about what the Alphas were and what to expect. So was known about them, their existence a high-level secret that trainees only heard about when they arrived at training camp. Some speculated they were giant tanks, while others suggested sophisticated androids. Either way, it was anyone's guess. Will joined the trainees as they funneled through the main yards into the barracks.

Will made his way back to his quarters, his mind racing. He thought about Mitch's words and the responsibility that lay ahead. The mission was no longer a distant goal; it was right around the corner, and tomorrow would be the day they would truly understand what they were up against. Will reached his bunk and sat down, running a hand through his hair. The room around him was alive with the sounds of preparation—zippers closing, boots thudding against the floor, and the murmur of voices. Yet, he felt a strange calm settle over him. The stakes were high, but he had come this far and wasn't about to falter now.

As the evening wore on, Will found himself reflecting on his journey—the loss that had driven him to volunteer for the mission and the relentless training that had pushed him to his limits. Each step had brought him closer to this moment.

He lay back on his bunk, staring at the ceiling. The prospect of meeting the Alphas loomed large in his mind. Tomorrow would be a defining moment to test everyone's mettle and cement where they were ready for the mission ahead.