Thirty Days Pretending to be Trash in a Mercenary Camp
762 Views · Ongoing · Angela
I spent a month pretending to be a coward in a mercenary cannon-fodder camp.
A recruit shattered my nose with a punch and ground his combat boot into my face; the instructor cut off my water during drills in forty-degree heat, waiting for me to drop dead from dehydration. To prevent the military AI surveillance overhead from catching my tactical muscle memory, I forcibly locked down my combat instincts and swallowed blood mixed with dirt.
They thought I was just a sluggish forty-two-year-old drifter, unaware that in the Pentagon's top-secret sealed files, I am a former Joint Special Operations Command "Tier 0" Ghost Operative.
Until that day, when heavily armored mercenaries raided the camp, and an EMP grenade paralyzed the entire surveillance grid.
Staring at the extinguished infrared indicator lights above, I snapped an enemy's neck and picked up a rifle from the ground.
"Alright, restrictions lifted."
A recruit shattered my nose with a punch and ground his combat boot into my face; the instructor cut off my water during drills in forty-degree heat, waiting for me to drop dead from dehydration. To prevent the military AI surveillance overhead from catching my tactical muscle memory, I forcibly locked down my combat instincts and swallowed blood mixed with dirt.
They thought I was just a sluggish forty-two-year-old drifter, unaware that in the Pentagon's top-secret sealed files, I am a former Joint Special Operations Command "Tier 0" Ghost Operative.
Until that day, when heavily armored mercenaries raided the camp, and an EMP grenade paralyzed the entire surveillance grid.
Staring at the extinguished infrared indicator lights above, I snapped an enemy's neck and picked up a rifle from the ground.
"Alright, restrictions lifted."


















































