Chapter 10. Three Months to Optimize

Danny sat on the bench, his fingers stiffly interlaced, drilling into me with a heavy, unblinking stare. In the dim glow of the park lamps, he looked surprisingly imposing despite his ridiculous getup. The clatter of skateboard wheels against concrete in the background had turned into a monotonous, oppressive rhythm that only underscored the gravity of the moment. I felt like I was under interrogation, with the prosecutor ten years younger than the defendant. Not a great feeling, honestly, a dull irritation stirred inside me, mixed with that ingrained office habit of enduring management reprimands.

“I’m listening carefully,” I said, lowering myself onto the cold wood of the bench beside him and trying to keep a straight face.

“Tom, do you even realize where that callback came from today?” Danny’s voice, muffled by his collar, was dull but distinct.

“Uh… from the Pentagon?” I recalled Parker’s pale face. “He was mumbling something about the higher echelons.”

“Close. It’s a direct hotline to the Awakened Corps,” he said it with the weight of someone talking about a nuclear detonator. “You see, every one of us runs into… complications now and then. You know, when you urgently need to go save the world, and some nitpicking patrol officer won’t let you through over an unpaid fine or bad parking. One call to that number, and any bureaucratic wall crumbles to dust.”

I glanced at the smartphone in my pocket. An ordinary slab of plastic and glass suddenly felt like a magical artifact imbued with unprecedented power.

“Wow… and how does it work? I just call, complain about life, and a couple minutes later Apache helicopters show up to restore order?”

“In broad terms, yeah,” Danny waved his hand vaguely in the air.

“So you can solve literally any problem with it?” the opportunistic civilian in me perked up. “Like paying off a mortgage? Or getting a personal invitation to dinner at the White House? Or maybe…”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about, Tom,” Danny turned sharply toward me, his gaze turning sharp. “Yeah, the government accommodates us. These are, to put it mildly, turbulent times, practically wartime. Every awakened individual isn’t just a soldier, but a walking strategic asset. We’re pampered, protected, and generally kept from being upset over trivialities. But getting cocky and abusing that privilege is the worst thing you can do. Do you understand me?”

“Perfectly,” I replied, instantly dropping the trace of irony.

“Honestly?” he still watched me with suspicion, trying to read my reaction in the shadows.

“Danny, listen. I spent almost ten years working in an office, right in the thick of corporate infighting,” I sighed, watching teenagers on the platform attempt another ollie. “I know very well that even if you’re an irreplaceable specialist holding the whole department together, and the boss is ready to kiss your ass, it’s still a bad idea to bother management over nonsense. It’ll cost you more in the end.”

Danny froze for a moment, then unmistakable respect flickered in his eyes.

“Wow… that’s wise. Seriously, a very sound approach.”

“Oh, come on,” I waved it off. “Any normal adult who’s ever tried to get vacation time at an inconvenient moment knows that.”

“That’s the point, an adult,” Danny let out a heavy sigh, and there was the fatigue of someone burdened beyond their limits in his voice. “I had a few guys in my group… they awakened at fifteen and immediately lost their heads. Calling the line over complete nonsense, getting denied entry to a nightclub, or because a waiter gave them the wrong look. In the end, the higher command chewed me out first for wasting the budget, and then them. And believe me, my version of a chewing out didn’t sit well with them.”

“Being a curator isn’t easy,” I gave him a sympathetic look. The guy really did seem down. “So what about me? Did I go too far today?”

“On a scale from one to five? A solid three. At least you didn’t end up in a police station for disorderly conduct like some of my particularly gifted ones,” he muttered a name under his breath, clearly not fondly. “But using Corps resources just to shut up a curious firearms instructor… that’s not exactly a life-or-death situation.”

“Agreed. Understood.”

“If you understand, then don’t count on that kind of safety net again. At least not for the next couple of months. Better yet, just stay out of trouble until the official draft. Keep your head down.”

I nodded silently. Lesson learned. I had already settled things with Parker, the certificates were in my pocket, and with the rest of the training centers I would need to act more carefully without dragging Danny into it. But since we were already talking about the future, I decided to squeeze as much useful information out of him as possible.

“Danny, as you’ve already noticed, I’m serious about this. I’m not preparing for the army just for show,” I saw him nod with approval. “What would you recommend I start studying right now? What should I focus on so I don’t look like dead weight in the Awakened Corps?”

“Well… they teach you everything there. From scratch, and for free. It’s a state program, manuals, training grounds…”

“I’ve got a three-month head start,” I cut him off sharply. “And I’m not going to waste it watching shows and eating pizza. I want to show up there ready for anything.”

“Those three months are actually meant for you to settle things with banks, say goodbye to your family, and get your thoughts in order,” he reminded me, but when he met my unwavering stare, he gave in. “Alright, alright. Shooting is definitely a yes. A solid skill, never useless. What else?.. Let me think…”

“Maybe hand-to-hand combat?” I suggested.

“Only if you want to impress girls or toss some rookies around in a training ring,” Danny waved his hand vaguely. “You see, in the portals… everything’s different. In all eight years of my service, I never once got to the point of throwing punches. If it comes down to hand-to-hand, it means you’ve already made a dozen fatal mistakes and are most likely dead. Fighting skills are extremely niche and rarely applicable in real combat.”

I grimaced involuntarily. Great. I had already shelled out a decent chunk of money for express courses in jiu jitsu and krav maga, hoping a black belt would be a meaningful advantage in my file. Well, too late to cancel now, and a basic ability to defend myself in a dark alley might still come in handy as a civilian.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Oh, right!” Danny suddenly perked up and slammed his fist into his open palm. “Tom, listen carefully: learn Spanish. Sit down with textbooks right now.”

“Spanish?” I blinked. “Why? Are we going to be attacked by matadors in the portals?”

“It’s both more mundane and more complicated,” Danny shook his head. “Portals are unpredictable. They open all over the globe. And Latin America is one of the hottest zones right now. We, as the strongest force, are constantly deployed there as allied support. Trust my experience: knowing the language so you can communicate with locals, understand what a panicking sergeant’s babbling about, or just negotiate for supplies is a skill that saves lives more often than shooting with both hands.”

“Wait… it’s noble that we help our neighbors, but don’t they have their own awakened?”

“That’s the catch,” Danny gave a bitter smirk. “Awakened appear everywhere. But not all of them want to stay in Uruguay or Bolivia when the United States hands out green cards almost instantly just for having abilities. There’s a massive brain drain. It creates an absurd situation where a country has zero specialists because they’re all living in Miami or New York. And when a portal opens there, we’re the ones who fly in to clean up the mess.”

“And what, those new Americans with green cards can’t just fly back and help their own? They know the language and the terrain.”

“It’s not that simple, Tom. Some are assigned elsewhere, some don’t meet the requirements, and some just don’t want to go back to where they escaped from. So learn Spanish. That’s my most sincere advice. In the Corps, someone with both combat skills and translation ability will be in extremely high demand.”

I looked down at my hands, thinking. Shooting, combat training, and now a foreign language. The to-do list for the next three months was growing exponentially, but instead of panic, it sparked a strange, cold passion.

“Alright,” I shrugged. “Combat skills are closer to my nature, but if a veteran says it’s necessary, then it’s necessary. What other aces do experienced fighters keep up their sleeves?”

Danny paused for a moment, watching another skater nearly wipe out attempting a complicated trick.

“Emergency medical care, Tom. That’s fundamental. Even if you’re invulnerable, you need to be able to pull your partner back from the brink.”

“Already signed up,” I said shortly. “Intensive courses start next week.”