Alex approached his apartment door and unlocked it. He was halfway through kicking off his sneakers when the sharp, insistent rap-rap-rap of a knock stopped him dead. It wasn't the tentative sound of a neighbor; it was firm, authoritative, and utterly unexpected.
He opened the door a crack.
Standing on his threshold were two men in their late thirties. They weren't just in uniforms; they were in heavy-duty, dark charcoal military fatigues that looked perfectly tailored, the fabric crisp and starched. The uniforms bore no visible insignia, but their presence was instantly intimidating.
The taller of the two—a man with sharp, clean-shaven features and eyes that seemed to miss nothing—straightened his already ramrod-straight back. His voice was a low, steady baritone. "Are you Alex Gray?"
Alex instinctively straightened his own posture, feeling dwarfed. He swallowed, the name sounding foreign when spoken with such gravity. "Ah... yes, I am Alex," he replied, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice.
The man's expression remained utterly neutral. "May I come in, Mr. Gray? We have a matter of urgency to discuss."
Alex was too shocked to refuse. "Oh... come in, please," he stammered, stepping back rapidly to clear the doorway. Why are military men at my apartment? he thought, his heart hammering against his ribs. This can't be good.
The two men entered silently, their heavy boots making no sound on the wooden floor. They moved with a disturbing, synchronized efficiency. The tall man—clearly the lead—gestured to the worn sofa in Alex's small living room, and they both sat down.
A tense, heavy silence settled over the room, broken only by the faint traffic noise from the street below. The lead man waited, his gaze fixed on a point just over Alex's shoulder, radiating an almost unnerving calm. Finally, he spoke, his voice shifting from a command to a grave declaration.
"Mr. Alex," he began, "as you may know, the world has changed. To protect humanity against the escalating threat of dimensional incursions and the entities they bring, a special strategic unit known as the Awakened Military was established."
He leaned forward slightly, his eyes finally locking onto Alex's. "To stand against these dimensional beings, we require the absolute best: young, talented, and—most importantly—Awakened individuals.
Through stringent, clandestine investigation, we have confirmed that you possess an active power signature. We do not yet have the full specifics of your ability or power level, but this is immaterial. Your participation in the mandatory military graduation program is compulsory, effective immediately."
Compulsory? Alex's mind screamed. He felt a sudden, cold wave of dread. This is exactly the nightmare scenario. I didn't want this power because I didn't want to be forced into a war. He clenched his jaw, fighting the panic.
After a long, charged silence where he struggled to regain control, Alex managed a steady breath. "Okay," he said, the word tight. "But can you at least tell me who you are? Before you draft me into an alien war?"
A fleeting expression—something almost resembling professional annoyance—crossed the man's face before it vanished. "My apologies, Mr. Gray. A procedural oversight." He extended a gloved hand. "I am Captain Ken Carter, from the Awaken Military Advanced Response Corps. That is all the detail you require."
Carter dropped his hand and stood up, a clear signal that the conversation was over. "Pack a single bag. Necessary documents will be provided. We need to depart within the next five minutes."
Dazed and feeling utterly stripped of agency, Alex mechanically went to his room. When he returned, bag in hand, Carter simply nodded.
Alex walked out of his apartment for what felt like the last time, following the men to a black, armored military SUV. He was placed in the back seat, the windows tinted so dark they acted as one-way mirrors.
As the SUV pulled away, Alex gazed out, watching the familiar chaos of the city gradually give way to unfamiliar, damaged sectors—buildings with gaping holes and scorch marks he hadn't noticed before. The city looked like a fragile shield, barely holding. The golden rays of the late afternoon sun, fractured by the tinted glass, fell across him, making the cold reality of his new situation feel blindingly sharp.
A short time later, the black SUV came to a halt in front of a looming, steel-and-concrete structure: the Awakened Military Command Center.
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Author's Note:
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