"This time of year, it should be snowing," murmured Vincent. "It snowed around this time last year." His voice squeaked as he leaned on the wooden counter, looking around at the empty, cold, dark store. "No snow, no customers, no money." He kept at it. He continued relentlessly, letting out a deep sigh after each sentence.

  Vincent Folklore was a giant at 6'5". He played basketball before tearing his ACL and MCL in a freak accident. Afterwards he let go of his dream of playing in the big leagues. His PTSD destroyed his admiration for the sport. After betting his whole high school career on making it big, he fell out just like many students without money for college. This city, after all, ranked 15th out of 18 in terms of education and job opportunities. Vincent would always shave his hair if it grew longer than 5 inches. Every other week he would walk into the store with a buzzcut and a depression cloud wrapped around him.

  "It's cold in here," he sighed. "Are you hungry?"

  Oscar Garnier looked up at him, his facial expression dull, but in his head, each little person tried their hardest to put water on the flames that were soon to flashover. Oscar was on the verge of uttering a past joke that could have potentially made Vincent go on a violent spree within the store. But the chimes of suspense rang as the door swung open. A group of ten kids wandered in, moving everywhere as if they were gnats on a hot summer day near a trash can. They rummaged through every book and comic imaginable.

  "Is it that time already?" Oscar uttered, His voice was scratchy, and his eyes darted everywhere. "Who do you think will take something this time?"

  "I'm betting on the kid with blue and red hair." Vincent chuckled. "That's a weird hair combination. So I put all my money on that."

  One kid ran up to the counter, slamming a comic book on it. His eyes darted rapidly from Oscar to Vincent and then back again.

  "Do you have the new edition? How much is this? I have my allowance today!" he screamed.

  Vincent covered his ears as the kid continued to scream. As this was happening, Oscar spotted two kids tucking something under their hoodies and sighing as they walked out the door.

  "Rabbit," Oscar muttered. "It's probably a decoy." He hopped over the counter and started running toward the front door.

  "Alright, nobody move!" screamed Vincent. "You fuckers couldn't behave!"

  The store got quiet with all eyes looking at Vincent. Meanwhile, Oscar had already made his way past the door and into the frigid air. He looked around, staring at the medium-sized apartments that surrounded the small main street in his zone. He darted his eyes toward a crowd of people waiting outside a coffee store and saw one of the boys casually wandering around looking ahead. He started moving, walking across the street and blending into the business casual, 1950s-dressed crowd. The zone he lived in wasn't known for its beauty. It was close to the great iron and metal walls that have changed colors over time. As he pursued one of the thieves, the smell of rain filled his nostrils. Once the boy broke free of the crowd and turned a corner, Oscar moved quicker, catching up to him and grabbing him by the collar.

  "Shit," the boy squeaked. He didn't even look back. "That's all I could do. I needed money. Let me go."

  Oscar didn't care. He held onto the kid, screaming for a police officer the moment he caught him. Once two officers showed up, they grabbed the kid and hauled him into the cop car. The kid banged on the window, throwing up a middle finger and crossing his thumb along his neck. Oscar didn't pay him any attention. The officers shook his hand and looked both ways before getting into their cop car, which resembled a vehicle from the 1950s. Oscar watched as they turned a corner and sped off down the street. Their presence drew many onlookers. As Oscar headed back toward the bookstore, his government-controlled phone received a notification with messages from military officials. This message was something important, but he would rather not be outside in the cold any longer.

  The bookstore had gone quiet again. Vincent slouched over, rapidly tapping his index finger on the wooden counter. Oscar walked over, pulled out his phone, and rapidly tapped the screen to get Vincent's attention.

  "What is it?" Vincent asked, "Can't you see I'm trying to self-entertain myself?"

  "Military news," Oscar smiled. "I took the test a couple of weeks ago."

  "Oh yeah?" Vincent sighed. "What is it? Air Force? Frontline Army? Research? Military Intelligence?"

  "Nah," Oscar said. "Citadel."

  "Citadel!" Vincent laughed. "What could you possibly be doing in the Citadel?"

  "I took the test for H.A.V.O.C. Battalion," Oscar replied as his eyes were glued to the alert he had gotten. "It's one of the hardest testing battalions to get into."

  Vincent stood upright, looking down at the phone, trying his hardest to read the small words that flung across the small screen. He looked at Oscar's shaking hands but couldn't understand what would drive him to join the military, let alone the Citadel.

  The Citadel, also referred to as the Kings and Queens of Defense, serves as the final line of defense against any attacks on a city. They work with all branches to provide support when needed. Some cities discourage the Citadel's presence. Due to the rarity of attacks on cities, most people who join the Citadel don't engage in any form of fighting. Some squads that patrol small villages outside of cities are prone to harassing the locals. Patrolling squads are mixed between the rich, who were children of veterans and bought their way into selection, and those either trying to live on the military benefits or those who enlisted just for the love of it. Either way, the Citadel has had a bad rep. Locals only love certain units in the Citadel, such as the prestigious H.A.V.O.C Battalion under the 21st Citadel Advancement Regiment. Not much is known about their selection processes, but those who pass become famous in their cities. In Oscar's city, there are only three known H.A.V.O.C. soldiers who have been recognized. Their faces are painted in front of city hall. One of them, Special Sergeant Gregory Nemchek, was the first to pass selection. Not much else is known about his whereabouts. The second H.A.V.O.C. soldier was Sergeant Perry Spence. He lived in a small village outside the city, next to the docks. The house is now abandoned, but the village is still lively. Last but not least, the last H.A.V.O.C. soldier was Assault Private Lacy Montclair. Lacy currently serves with them. But just like every other member, his whereabouts are unknown.

  "How long are you going to read that?" Vincent asked.

  Oscar shrugged him off. He read every word that was in front of him until he got to the middle section.

  "SELECTION TESTING GRADE: 89% - SELECTION STATUS: ACCEPTED - SELECTION SHIP-OUT FOR CADET TRAINING - T-MINUS THREE DAYS"

  "Yes!" screamed Oscar. "Yes!"

  Vincent slowly clapped his hands.

  "Congratulations, Cadet Garnier!" he smiled. "Don't forget to send me some money when you make it big."

  "I'm going to have my name painted all over the place," Oscar laughed. "Shoo, once I pass selection, I'll send money everywhere."

  "Are you sure you won't go to war?" Vincent asked. He had a puzzled look on his face as he tilted his head down, reading the words on the screen again.

  "We're the last line of defense, dude. Even if there were any sort of attack, that hasn't happened in years," Oscar continued, "Those cities are abandoned. They were poorly constructed and inadequately guarded. I'll be watching the streets of big-named cities like Zone Melgaard or Zone Procton."

  "What about, you know, Zone Hasting?" Vincent asked, "Your home city?"

  "Yeah," Oscar sighed. "Well, I could always come back. However, our city isn't the wealthiest. I fear some neighborhoods in those cities are much richer than us."

  Vincent let out yet another sigh. He turned around, facing the wall behind them, and leaned back onto the counter.

  "So you leave in three days?" he said. "How long is the selection?"

  "No idea," Oscar replied. "But it's tough. I know that for sure."

  They sat in silence for the remainder of their shift. Oscar didn't have to come to work for the next two days, as those were his off days. He would have to get ready, pack his bags, and make sure he submitted every document needed or risk the chance of falling out instantly.

  The next days were a mix of stress, anxiety, and excitement. His mother, who had been working three jobs, held a celebration for him. She had called out of work the moment she got the news. Oscar's sister wasn't present at the time, but she too was thrilled for her older brother's accomplishment.

  "SELECTION DEPARTURE: TRAIN 25 TO ZONE MARTHA & BELLHEIM—DEPARTURE TIME 1500—T-MINUS 4 HOURS"

  Brrng Brrng

  That familiar sound rang in his ear once more as Oscar walked into the bookstore. His eyes looked toward the counter, seeing one familiar face and a newcomer. He walked further into the bookstore, grabbing a book and pretending to put it under his shirt.

  "Your games won't fool me!" echoed a voice behind the counter. "Cadet Garnier, you sly man!"

  Oscar let out a laugh that sounded like a chipmunk. He walked over to Vincent, putting the book on the counter. He greeted the new employee, an elderly woman wearing large round glasses. She was excited to meet a man in a nice-looking Citadel uniform. She recalled the first man who successfully passed selection, as well as the numerous others who received acceptance to participate. Oscar was nervous, but the more he talked to her and Vincent, the more he felt that he could be the fourth H.A.V.O.C. soldier. The lovely lady helped fix his formal uniform while he checked the time. As Vincent shook Oscar's hand, several honks echoed through the store.

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  "If anything doesn't go your way, you're always welcome back, bud," he stated. "Bossman will always let you back in."

  "I don't plan to, but I'll always come back if anything happens." Oscar smiled.

  "Be careful, young man," the lady said. "Make sure you stand upright. You'll meet new faces from all over the 18 cities, so be prepared. Give us, Hastings folks, something to be proud of again."

  Oscar's smile grew larger and larger. He shook the lady's hand and waved goodbye as he hurried out the door. As usual, onlookers were intrigued to see someone wearing a cadet uniform. The sight was truly captivating. Oscar's mom hurried him into the car as they sped off in her old blue company car. Traffic wasn't so bad for them given that many people ride bikes instead of using automobiles. Still, near the train station, the crowds picked up frequency. Everyone there looked towards the entrance of the train station, watching people in blue, white, black, and green cadet uniforms with their cadet caps fitted enter the station.

  Oscar's mom stopped the car in front of the entrance. She gave him a look of sadness before giving him a big hug that lasted longer than it should've. Her voice skipped numerous times as she tried saying "I love you" and "Come back strong." Oscar couldn't look her in the eye. He, too, was going to cry. He had to hit himself on the leg to keep his emotions stable.

  "I have to go," he said. It was harsh, but he had to push her away gently. There was no need for luggage. Everything a cadet needed would be available at the numerous training bases to which many were being shipped. In Oscar's case, that was the Citadel Training Base Korra, outside the reinforced walls of Bellheim.

  Oscar swiftly navigated through the crowd as his mother's car quickly became crowded with onlookers. Cadet uniforms were everywhere at the train station. At the corner of his eye, a familiar, small-figured boy stood there staring at him. Oscar kept side-eyeing him while moving towards the check-in desk. He gave all personnel information and then swiftly moved towards the security gates.

  "Mr. Snitch!" the boy screamed. "You couldn't win! Fifteen and still winning!"

  The whole area went silent. Oscar twisted his body, snapping his neck to see the boy staring right at him. The same boy he thought got arrested was now standing nine feet away from him wearing a black uniform. Oscar couldn't believe it. The kid was five years younger than Oscar, meaning he was in his last years of middle school. How could someone that young get accepted into the military? Oscar looked around, scanning his surroundings. His eyes locked onto a group of people, realizing they looked a lot younger than him. Oscar had just turned nineteen and had graduated high school just a year prior. Now, he couldn't believe that people who should be in middle school are joining the military. People typically focus on education and personal development at that age.

  "Mr. Snitch?" the boy said as he walked close to him. "Surprised?"

  He had a ton of papers in his hands. Every page bore the word Frontline Army.

  "Kid," Oscar stuttered. "Why are you here?"

  The boy, who had completely shaved off his head, had to look up at Oscar. His blue eyes pierced through Oscar's skull as the boy slowly opened his mouth.

  "I joined the military," he responded. "Walk with me."

  "Walk with you?" Oscar repeated.

  The boy patted Oscar on the shoulder before walking quickly towards the security gate. He made small, quick steps as he disappeared in the enormous crowd of cadets and civilians. Oscar, in a state of shock, had to keep moving as his train was soon approaching. He had too much to think about. His nervousness was slowly creeping up on him. He wanted to get past the security gate as quickly as possible. He needed some fresh air.

  Passing the gate and slowly walking up the stairs to the platform, Oscar looked out onto it, seeing hundreds of cadets standing, sitting, and leaning all over the place. Every platform had tons of cadets. He'd never seen so many people before.

  Trains started pouring in. Whether they were needle-nosed bullet trains or flat-faced intercity trains, each train was already filled with cadets. Oscar stood on the platform among a diverse group of cadets. Each second his heart raced. His excitement was withering away. Fear was on the rise—fear of failing and returning to the city with numerous problems. He couldn't think straight. Every outcome showed him failing one way or another.

  "Please stay behind the gates as the train approaches the station—ding ding dong ding."

  Fear grabbed him by the neck as the train shot past him, sending him wobbling and hitting other cadets. The train came to a halt as the wind began to settle. The doors shot open. First, civilians walked off the train. Their eyes widened and scanned the crowd of cadets as they scurried down the steps.

  "Cadets and civilians, to Kassandra and Zone Bismarck, the first four cars are yours!" said a conductor with a loud megaphone. "Cars 2339 to 2343 belong to Zone Bellheim. Cars 2334 to 2338 belong to Zone Sumter and Zone New Lyon."

  The pushing ensued. The chaos as everyone tried to board an already packed train annoyed Oscar. This was his second time ever riding on a train. This was his first time ever going to Zone Bellheim.

  Moving down the beautiful aisles of the prestigious bullet train, Oscar found a seat next to a man with square-shaped glasses. He looked wealthy and kept to himself. The man kept his eyes fixated on the world outside. After minutes of waiting, a violent jolt shook the train as it started leaving the station. People were standing up along the aisle, hovering over others as they tried to relax, if it was even possible. The man avoided looking at the crowd of cadets heading to the same destination as him. Oscar looked out the window as well. The window reflected the man's gaze as he looked out. His gaze followed every object the train passed. Soon the city was far behind, and the tunnel and total darkness indicated that they were no longer in the city of Hastings. The speed of the train made Oscar excited, as if he were a kid again.

  The darkness changed to light. As they left the tunnel and sped down the track, they were surrounded by green grass and trees. Small houses littered the way as they reached their first stop. More people boarded the train, and the train became hotter due to the increased number of passengers. Oscar was being pressed against the man, who was clearly agitated. The train jolted once more. Flying down the tracks once again, the train passed a city before entering complete darkness. Oscar couldn't sleep. His fear had slowly drifted away, and excitement kicked in. Seeing the scenery of places he'd never seen before amazed him. Each city had its own culture. People were wearing whatever they wanted in most cities. It confused him a lot.

  Chapter One: Numb

  They were now entering the city of Bellheim. The scenery was different. It looked massive, beautiful, and vibrant. As he walked off the train, even though he was immediately ambushed by numerous cadets, the smell of the city was much better than anything he had smelled. He continued following the cadets as buses lined up down the street. Each civilian that passed him smelled so good. Their clothes featured various unique designs. Each bus had a designated branch and location. In the front of the line were two black, flat-faced coach bus that had the word HAVOC Battalion in bolded letters on the side. The bus held around 70 people, and all 70 seats were filled. Oscar was so excited. He couldn't think straight once more. A new life is starting for him. "A new life," he kept repeating in his head.

  ***

  Blood was all that remained as the night ended. Out of 30 cadets from Group D, only 3 remained.

  "That's enough," sighed the instructor. "Release them from their goggles."

  A screeching noise rang through Oscar's ear as he dropped to the ground. Screams echoed throughout the room. The feeling of dying was not known to any of the 30 cadets in that room. Yet day after day, combat training gets tougher. Pee, vomit, and saliva flooded the floor, prompting everyone to get up quickly, even if they were still in shock. They were ushered to the showers, where they stood in silence. No one ever spoke after a simulation training. It felt all too real. Those who would die in the first minute of battle only realized where they were as the goggles dropped. There was no total darkness or consciousness. These goggles tried their hardest to depict what dying felt like. Each time Oscar died, it made him feel sick. He kept thinking to himself every time they hit the showers.

  "Are they trying to make us numb to death?"

  The feeling was instant. But the pain they felt from the battle still scarred them. Realizing how horrible it would be, some cadets in the barracks were on the brink of collapsing. The physical training was exhausting. The food wasn't the best. The psychological training felt like torture. However, this was a predictable outcome. The Citadel served as the final line of defense, and anyone passing through the two knights at the front of the base should be aware of what awaits them. The training, although depicted as lighter than other branches, was a whole different world, especially HAVOC training. HAVOC cadets weren't part of special operations, but their basic training was so intense that it felt similar.

  The day ended, and the next day began with morning PT. The air was bitterly cold. The sun hadn't risen, and yet the loud singing of thousands of cadets all around the Citadel training base made it sound like a music concert. Oscar's body ached. His mind kept pushing him to give up. But he couldn't. He just couldn't go back to the life he had before. With all his strength, he completed morning PT.

  "I can't do another goggles training," a cadet named Samuel Topper said. "It feels too real. I got slashed in the torso, and I felt so cold. I can't get used to that." Samuel came from Zone New Lyon. The city is known for its distinct accent, which some describe as sounding slurred or difficult to understand.

  "We haven't even gotten past the walls yet, and the whole group is killed off," spoke another cadet named Jaylen Carter. "Slashing is one thing, but burning alive is another." Jaylen came from Zone Hallaheen. They are the first city to have a specific Frontline Army regiment for the best of the best. Zone Hallaheen is the most remote city. They heavily fortified their wall.

  Oscar and six other cadets made their way toward the recreation center to the far right of the Citadel training base. There they would meet with other cadets training for either the main Citadel branch or battalions, similar to their own. The recreation center was huge, with basketball, table tennis, games, and more. All of these made Oscar question his life. His city of Hastings wasn't known for its wealth. In fact, it was a law to wear business casual clothing when moving about the city. His city also looked more like something in a 1950s movie.

  "Do you think other cadets go through simulation stuff?" asked Jaylen Carter. He looked to his right and left to see if anyone would answer him.

  "From what I've heard, it's only HAVOC. Other branches do this type of stuff when the cadets have already graduated," responded a cadet named Edwin Monroe. Edwin was from Zone Sumter. Zone Sumter was known for speaking a whole new language. Sumtesian was a tough language to learn. Each person born in Zone Sumter also had hazel eyes.

  As usual, the recreation center was full. Sundays were free days after morning PT. But for HAVOC cadets, simulation training took place twice these days. Just a little over a week into training, the feeling of death already loomed over every HAVOC cadet. Each cadet in the recreation center had unique characteristics. They varied in accents, languages, skin and hair colors, as well as in height and weight. It was difficult to believe that all of them wanted to join the military.

  Walking further into the recreation center, a large group of HAVOC cadets waddled their way toward Oscar and his group.

  "Cadet Oscar Garnier," said a tall, pale cadet that stuck his hand out. "HAVOC Group B."

  "Who might you be?" Oscar asked. He, too, stuck his hand out.

  "Cadet Boston Baumgartner," he smiled. "From Zone Hallaheen."

  "How do you know me?" Oscar asked.

  "We know everyone in Group D," Boston replied.

  Cadet Boston Baumgartner looked like a decent guy to Oscar. A group of his fellow cadets also followed him. They greeted the cadets accompanying Oscar before going silent and standing behind Boston Baumgartner. Oscar could see his influence on the group.

  "How's simulation training going for you guys?" Boston said.

  "Simulation?" asked Jaylen Carter. "You mean goggles?"

  "Goggles?" asked one girl behind Boston. "You call it goggles training?"

  "Yeah," Jaylen responded. "Don't ask why."

  "Uh, well, we just came to say hi," Boston replied. "We've got simulation training now."

  Walking right out the building, a group of around 30 cadets wearing white formal clothing walked out of the recreation building. They all looked proper, taller, and well-matured. But deep down, Oscar's group knew that they were also hurting from the simulations. Boston, their leader, maintained his composure, yet his fellow cadets were displaying signs of fatigue. HAVOC is a reserve patrolling division, but for the past week, their training has been solely focused on rescue and combat situations that none of the cadets have encountered before.

  "So much for relaxing," Samuel Topper sighed. "Gotta head to goggles training."

  "God save us," murmured Edwin Monroe.

  "Please, God."