Tuesday morning, Agent May took me outside.
Actual outside. Not the training room. Not a SHIELD facility.
The streets of New York.
"Today we're doing urban navigation exercises," she said as we walked through Manhattan. "You need to learn how to move through the city without dying."
"That's the dream."
"It's a learnable skill. You're just bad at it." She gestured to the street around us. "Tell me what you see."
"Uh. Buildings? People? Cars?"
"Wrong. Look again. What are the threats?"
I looked around, trying to apply what she'd taught me yesterday.
"That construction site has unsecured equipment. Could fall. That guy on the corner is watching people too closely—possible pickpocket or worse. That food truck has a propane tank that's probably not up to code."
"Better. What else?"
"The manhole cover is slightly raised. Potential for explosion or collapse. That building has scaffolding that looks unstable. And that guy in the hoodie is walking too fast with his hands in his pockets—could be running from something or toward something."
"Good. You're learning." She started walking. "Now, we're going to walk ten blocks. You're going to narrate every threat you see. If you miss something obvious, I'm going to hit you."
"That seems excessive."
"You died ten times in three weeks. Excessive is necessary."
She wasn't joking.
We walked ten blocks.
She hit me three times.
By lunch, I had a comprehensive understanding of exactly how many ways New York could kill me.
Unstable construction (6 sites). Suspicious individuals (12 people). Vehicles driving erratically (4 cars, 2 bikes). Potential enhanced activity (3 locations with unusual energy readings May somehow detected). Environmental hazards (countless).
"You live in a death trap," May said as we stopped for lunch at a food cart. "Most people don't notice because they're not actively dying repeatedly. You don't have that luxury."
"So I need to be paranoid forever."
"Aware. Not paranoid. There's a difference." She handed me a gyro. "Paranoid means you're afraid of everything. Aware means you recognize actual threats and respond appropriately."
"What's the difference in practice?"
"Paranoid: you stay inside forever and still die when your building collapses. Aware: you learn patterns, avoid high-risk areas, and make strategic decisions that keep you alive." She took a bite of her food. "You're currently doing neither. You're just walking around hoping not to die."
"That's a fair assessment."
"This afternoon, we're going to Queens. Your neighborhood. We're going to walk your normal routes and I'm going to show you every single thing you're doing wrong."
I groaned.
"This is going to be humiliating, isn't it?"
"Extremely. Finish your gyro."
We took the subway to Queens.
May made me narrate threats the entire way.
"Guy at 2 o'clock is watching the doors too closely. Possible pickpocket. Woman at 10 o'clock has a bag that's too heavy for its size—could be weapons or enhanced tech. Exit routes are blocked by crowd—bad tactical position."
"Better. Keep going."
By the time we reached my neighborhood, my brain hurt from constant threat assessment.
May pulled up the map Jennifer had made—the one showing all my death locations.
"Your lawyer did good work. Now let's see why you keep dying here." She pointed to an intersection. "This corner. Three deaths. What's wrong with it?"
I looked around.
"High foot traffic. Multiple businesses that could be targets. Construction on two sides limiting escape routes. That building has a clear sight line to the street—good for snipers or surveillance."
"And?"
I looked closer.
"The bodega. It gets robbed a lot, doesn't it?"
"Twice a month on average. You've walked past it seventeen times in three weeks. You died near it twice." She started walking. "Never use this route. Take the parallel street."
We spent three hours walking my neighborhood.
Every route I normally took, she found the threats.
"This convenience store has a 40% robbery rate. Avoid."
"This intersection has gang activity. Don't walk here after dark."
"This building had an enhanced incident last month. The energy signature is still elevated. Go around."
"Your apartment building has terrible security. Anyone could get in. We're fixing that."
By 5 PM, I had a completely new understanding of my own neighborhood.
"You've been walking through a minefield," May said. "No wonder you keep dying."
"In my defense, I didn't know it was a minefield."
"Ignorance isn't a defense when you can Google crime statistics." She pulled out her phone. "I'm sending you a safe route map. Use it. Memorize it. Add fifteen minutes to your commute if necessary. Stop being convenient and start being alive."
"Yes ma'am."
"Good. Tomorrow we do this again. Different neighborhood. You need to learn how to assess any area quickly." She started walking toward the subway. "And Lynn?"
"Yeah?"
"You made it through today without dying. That's progress."
I made it home exhausted but weirdly accomplished.
I'd walked through Manhattan and Queens for eight hours and hadn't died once.
This felt like a major victory.
My phone buzzed.
Text from Jennifer: "How was urban navigation training?"
"Agent May spent eight hours showing me every way my neighborhood wants me dead. I have a completely new route map. My commute is now fifteen minutes longer."
"But you're alive?"
"Alive and only mildly traumatized by the realization that I've been walking through a war zone for three weeks."
"That's growth. Proud of you."
"The bar is underground and somehow I'm still barely clearing it."
Wednesday was my regular therapy session with Dr. Garner.
"You look better," he said when I walked in.
"I made it two days without dying. Personal record for the week."
"That's significant progress. Tell me about it."
I walked him through the urban navigation training. The threat recognition. The safe route mapping.
"You're taking control," he noted. "Instead of accepting death as inevitable, you're actively working to prevent it."
"Yeah. It feels weird but good?" I thought about it. "Like, I know I'm still going to die. SHIELD will kill me for testing. Field assignments will go wrong. But at least I can maybe not die on the way to get lunch."
"That's a healthy perspective. You're accepting the unavoidable while taking responsibility for the preventable." He made notes. "How are you sleeping?"
"Better. Fewer nightmares. I think having some control helps."
"It does. Trauma often comes from helplessness. When you take action, you reclaim agency." He set down his notepad. "I'm going to recommend we move to once-a-week sessions. You're stabilizing. Still traumatized, but managing it well."
"Once a week? Instead of twice?"
"Unless you need more. But you're building good coping mechanisms. You have a support network. You're taking strategic action." He smiled slightly. "You're adapting, Carson. That's impressive."
"Doesn't feel impressive. Feels like barely surviving."
"Sometimes those are the same thing."
Thursday was my scheduled murder session with Dr. Hayes.
I arrived at his lab with significantly less enthusiasm than he had.
"Mr. Lynn! Ready for today's testing?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Not really! Today we're testing impact tolerance from different angles. How does landing position affect respawn timing? Let's find out!"
He led me to a chamber with a padded floor and a very high ceiling.
"We're going to drop you from increasing heights at different angles. Head-first, feet-first, sideways. Measure impact force and respawn patterns."
"This sounds terrible."
"Science is often uncomfortable! But think of the data!" He was genuinely excited.
I stepped into the chamber.
Over the next two hours, Dr. Hayes dropped me from various heights in various positions until something killed me.
Turns out: head-first from 30 feet does it.
Death #11: Fall damage (for SCIENCE)
I woke up in a janitorial closet.
Again.
My phone buzzed with respawn statistics.
I texted Dr. Hayes: "Respawned. Be there in 5. And I hate you."
His response: "Hate is a strong word! I prefer 'scientifically inconvenienced.' Excellent data though!"
Friday was my second field assignment briefing.
Hill gathered me and the backup team in the conference room.
"Same target as last time. The warehouse in Queens. We've confirmed enhanced activity and weapons development. Your mission: get closer. Get visual confirmation of what they're building."
"Closer? Last time I died in seven minutes from three blocks away."
"Last time we had poor intelligence on active threat levels. This time we know they have a fire manipulator on site. We're accounting for that." She pulled up tactical maps. "You'll approach from the south. Better cover. Better sight lines. Backup is one block away instead of two."
"And if the fire guy spots me again?"
"You call for extraction and we pull you out. But Carson, you're better trained now. Two weeks of urban navigation and threat recognition. You should be able to get closer without being spotted."
Should.
I really didn't like that word.
"When?"
"Monday morning. 0700 insertion. Six-hour observation window." She looked at me. "Questions?"
"Realistically, how likely am I to die?"
"Honestly? 60-40. Slight majority you survive. But if you do die, that's still valuable intelligence." She closed her tablet. "You're our eyes on this, Lynn. We need to know what they're building before it hits the streets."
"No pressure."
"Lots of pressure. But I think you can handle it." She stood. "Dismissed. Enjoy your weekend. Train on your own time if you want."
I left the briefing room with significantly more anxiety than I'd had before.
60-40 I survive.
Better odds than a coin flip.
Worse odds than I'd like.
My phone buzzed.
Text from Jennifer: "Heard about Monday's assignment. Want to get dinner this weekend? Go over the tactical plan?"
"Yeah. That would help. Saturday?"
"Saturday works. 7 PM. I'll pick the place."
"Somewhere without fire hazards?"
"I'll do my best."
Friday evening I went home and stared at the briefing documents.
The warehouse. The approach routes. The extraction points.
I'd survived one field assignment by dying in seven minutes.
Could I survive one by actually completing the mission?
I pulled out my notebook and started planning.
Approach routes:
South entrance: Best cover, longer walk, better sight lines
Visual confirmation needed: Type of weapons, number of people, enhanced individuals present
Known threats: Fire manipulator (confirmed), possible others
Extraction protocol: Code word "execute," backup 1 block away
Success criteria: Don't die (preferred) or die with useful intelligence
My advantages:
Better training than last time
Know about fire manipulator
Improved threat recognition
Can respawn if I die
My disadvantages:
Still weak and undertrained
Fire manipulator already killed me once
Unknown additional threats
Success rate: 60-40
I stared at those odds.
60-40.
Better than I'd had two weeks ago.
But still not great.
My phone buzzed.
Text from Agent May: "Saw Monday's briefing. Your odds are better than they look. You're smarter than you were. Trust your training."
I smiled despite my anxiety.
Agent May thought I could do this.
That was something.
Another text came through.
Dr. Garner: "Remember: mission success isn't measured by whether you live or die. It's measured by whether you gather the intelligence. You've got this."
I set down my phone and took a deep breath.
Monday I'd either complete my first successful field mission or die trying.
Either way, I'd find out what they were building in that warehouse.
That was the job.
Time to do it.