The steel floor reverberated with movement. Caleb's mind filtered out distractions-footsteps, ragged breathing, the faint hum of the ventilation system. The emergency lighting painted the room in a deep on, distorting shadows, making threats harder to pinpoint.
Then came the next attack. A feint from the left-too obvious. Caleb ignored it. The real strike came from the right, aimed at his ribs. He twisted just in time, catching the assailant's wrist and redirecting the blow. A swift elbow to the gut sent them staggering.
Nine left.
Eight.
His opponents were learning. They weren't attacking one by one anymore. They were working as a unit, moving in pairs, anticipating his counters. Good. This was a test, after alI.
Then the lights cut out again. Darkness. Deeper this time. No emergency glow, no ambient light. Just black. A shift in tactics. Caleb adjusted. He slowed his breathing, tuned into the micro-movements around him. His training had prepared him for this. They had taken his sight-but that only leveled the playing field.
The sound of a sharp inhale. A fraction second a presence loomed behind him. Caleb swept the leg of the opponent and elbowed his gut.
Seven
A whisper of fabric. A rush of wind. He dodged just in time as another opponent lunged. Caleb rolled away, regaining his footing. He needed to end this. Then he heard it. A high-pitched beep. His mind clicked into overdrive. A new variable. A new threat. Explosives. They were escalating.
"Interesting," Caleb muttered under his breath. Colonel Briggs' voice returned, smooth and calculated.
"Survive Mercer"