The third morning was the only morning where Lawrence actually woke up without needing Jane to pound on his door again. He seemed to nearly bounce out of his bed when his alarm went off, realizing that even on four hours asleep, he had enough energy to run the whole day. The fact that training was that very day kept him nervous, butterflies swarming his stomach.

Lawrence threw open his door, being face to face with a taller male, Jane, his hand stretched out ready to knock. Satisfaction twitched onto his face, both sharing the same emitted a loud chuckle and stepped over to let him through.

"You may have kept me up all night but I ain't missin' today, Jane," Lawrence beamed, sauntering by as Jane let out a large huff.

"Everyone is hung over, i'm surprised you of all people would be up and at it." Jane grunted, crossing his arms. The day before was a big day. It was announced that there would be no new members from then on, and after the newest members were trained they would be able to begin the grouping process. Nobody knew what the 'grouping process' was going to be, but when Pauling came in to announce, everyone seemed to go along with the idea.

"Yae know what 'ah can't stand?" a group of 17 sat in a circle, clutching bottles of alcohol firmly in their palms as they listened to Tavish. Everyone seemed to be in an unfamiliar calm state, where nobody talked and everyone could speak their mind. Tavish leaned in, his eyes tracing over the crowds. "Stalemate fighters."

Lawrence sat to his left, the term twisted in his mind and confusing him at first. From the way the crowd smiled, he guessed that these so called 'stalemate fighters' must have been bad. Lucian sat to Tavish's right, but he noticed how uncomfortable he started to look, and especially the way Heinrich shifted in his seat and took a large swig from his drink.

"If i eva meet one of them bloody stalemates, i'll punch 'em right in the nose!" The crowd raised their bottles, agreeing loudly. Lawrence remembered when Lucian told him of the so called stalemate, the battle that lead everyone here, but to him it seemed like they were labeling for no reason.

"I agree, what scum." Lucian shrugged, placing his bottle next to his side. Heinrich suddenly gave the spy an icy look, closing his blue eyes. The medic didn't like the current topic, in fact, it was starting to remind him that the alcohol was making his stomach sick. Even after everyone started to laugh and chat about other topics, Lawrence still couldn't help but notice that Lucian was more stiff than usual.

He reminded himself to ask him about it the next day.

To his disappointment, he wasn't ever able to spot Jack, he was probably hiding away in his room. He was tempted to find him but he let him have his alone time. Lawrence did spot him once when he walked into the room for a cup of coffee. Jack looked mostly annoyed, especially when Tavish threw his arms over Jack's shoulders drunk, mumbling how it had forever since he last drank. Lawrence didn't know why, but he was mostly surprised to find out Tavish had been sober for 4 years, who knows if he'd keep up with it when everything started. They all needed a drink.

"Yeah well I ain't a freakin' lightweight like all of 'ya," Lawrence grinned, "I didn't make a point t' drink a bunch, actually. " Jane looked doubtful.

"You seem like the type that would get hammered, son." They both share a small laugh. Jane turned away, taking loud steps to the other doors next to his to wake everyone up. Before he pounded on the door next to his, he hesitated and looked in Lawrence's direction.

"Good luck, I hope they train you right." Jane saluted to him- mostly to joke, and Lawrence returned the gesture before heading to the mess hall. With quick steps, he noticed somebody in front of him in the hallways that he immediately recognized as Tavish. He seemed to be walking slowly, slumped over and his hand rubbing the back of his head. When Lawrence made it to his side, he tilted downward to get a good look at his face, eyelids drooping and mouth curved downward. At the sight of the scout, Tavish flinched and forced his best smile.

This guys hangover looks like hell, Lawrence thought to himself, wondering about the times when his mother would wake up with her makeup smeared from the night before, wiping her face and muttering to to one of his brothers to make breakfast.

"Aye feel like i'm dyin'," He mumbled, not trying to fix his posture and accepting the fate of a terrible mood. When they made it to the mess hall, Lawrence noticed the amount of people eating was not as large as it usually way. Even hungover, Tavish went for the coffee and food, repeating the same schedule as the couple of days before.

Lawrence found out the same day how large the building actually was. The whole thing seemed to be like a large school, with hallways and doors to go outside but they all seemed to be fenced in. While he doubted he was ever going to try to escape, he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable staring at the back of Lucian's head as he walked forward.

The spy had found him when he was eating food. The message wasn't distressed, but mostly rushed that his trainer arrived the night before when everyone was partying. The last thing he expected was to start so early in the morning, as pumped as he was, he realized quickly that he was feeling a little sluggish from the small hours of sleep.

So, he had to follow Lucian to where the training grounds were in the building. The walk ended abruptly when down the open hallways, he turned to a simple door and opened it. Inside, a whiteboard was at the very end, next to it another simple door. In the middle of the room, there was a large circled table with small chairs around. Inside, Lawrence noticed there was already a seated male in one of the chairs, leaning back lazily with his eyes staring at another figure in the front. Obviously, nothing serious was going on but them simply talking, the other person in the front crossing his arms with a smile.

Both of their heads perked up at the sound of the door opening, the male sitting turned his head, Lawrence recognized him as Jack. He didn't the other person standing in front, his build seemed to be a bit slimmer, a little taller than Lawrence's height. His chocolate eyes moved over Lawrence and immediately turning sour at the sight of Lucian. His blonde hair was once cut short but he noticed it probably hadn't been trimmed in a while, freckles littering his pale skin. He had a round face with a short nose that tilted upward at the end, being slightly flushed alongside his cheeks from the heat. As awfully young as he looked, he could tell stress wore at his young features.

"Oh, hi. We were just talking," He spoke in a watered down British accent. Lawrence gave a small wave to the person in front, Jack and Lawrence acknowledging each other. "I'm Alan, sorry." Alan briskly walked over to Lawrence, Lucian still standing in the door. They shook hands quickly, before Alan headed to the door to quietly talk with the Spy. Lucian still stood in the door frame as they talked, hearing through the mumbles where the other two where.

"I can go find them." Lucian suggested, Alan giving a small nod.

"Yeah, I'd appreciate it," He closed the door when Lucian stepped back, keeping his hand on the handle. As Lawrence took a seat and kept his stare on the back of Alan's head, he noticed that he seemed to hesitate. Alan turned around with a fake smile, looking at Lawrence. "Scout?"

"Yeah. You're trainin' both of us?" Lawrence furrowed his eyebrows. Alan laughed lightly, taking a seat at the head of the table where a coffee mug sat, lightly staining the white table in brown.

"No, heavens no. I don't know the first thing about sniping. His trainer," He motioned to Jack with his thumb, "Should be coming in soon or later. Haven't met him yet, but, i assume you'll have fun."

"'s that sarcasm?" Jack tilted his head. The Brit forced another smile through his white teeth.

"No, sort of? I didn't catch your name," Alan, trying to make the tone of the conversation lighter, shifted in his seat.

"Lawrence."

"Lawrence, where are you from?" The chair was awfully uncomfortable. He leaned back.

"Why does it matter?"

"Is that type of question too personal? I can give a good guess from your accent, i'm sure you can guess where i'm from."

Lawrence felt a smile creep up. "Yeah, you're British."

"English, to be exact," Jack watched the exchange, taking note of the topic. Alan had easily guessed where his home was, not that he really cared. It was useless being cryptic about where you were from when your accent gave you away.

"Just Boston," Lawrence eyed the coffee mug in front of Alan. "Massachusetts."

"I see, how is that-" Alan was cut off when the door closest to him next to the white board opened quickly, in rushing another person. His skin was darker than the English man and his over all height and muscle mass a bit larger. His hair was dark brown, sloppily brushed through but a few strands stuck to his forehead. His facial features were a lot more prominent, having a straight nose and a bright green eyes that bounced off from the dark color of his hair. He looked more tired, lines already under his eyes and slightly sheepish. The color seemed to drain from Alan's face as he got a good look at him, Lawrence couldn't help but notice the look Alan received back.

"You're-" Alan began.

"Daniel. Sniper, you're Alan, thats what they told me," Daniel took in a deep breath, he looked like he had rushed here. "I fell asleep, sorry." This time, Lawrence couldn't place his accent. Jack perked up in his chair, a little more interested in the situation now that there was another sniper in the room.

"I'm Daniel, Sniper. I don't know you, I don't know if you know me," He repeated as he glanced at Alan who was refusing to make eye contact. "But that doesn't matter. I haven't trained anyone in…Years. Should we start right now?"

"No, you have to wait for the other sniper…" Alan narrowed his eyes, straightening his posture in his chair. "You're Dutch." He added, nearly beaming that he was certain he placed the accent correctly. He received a small nod from the other sniper, as if he was answering a question from a child, his eyes narrowing into small slits.

"Well i'm going to start without him, follow me." Daniel mumbled, his green eyes rolling over Alan once more before exiting the way he entered. Jack gave a bizarre glance at Alan if he should follow, Alan motioning with his head that he should tag along. Lawrence watched his friend hurry after Daniel, shutting the door quietly and suddenly the air became less heavy. It didn't help the fact that he didn't know what to say to Alan who was looking up at the ceiling, trying to think over the situation. It almost seemed like he knew him, Alan did seem like he was the type to be friendly to people he just met but that was brutally awkward.

"Do you know that guy?" Lawrence broke the silence, watching Alan's frown. He tore his gaze away from the ceiling and gave him a sharp look, taking a large sip from his cold coffee.

"Does it matter?" He sounded robotic.

"I was just askin', you seemed to look a little, uh, uncomfortable." Lawrence slowly shrugged.

"Uncomfortable," He echoed, nodding slowly with a chuckle. " Well, to answer your question, technically no. Snipers, Lawrence, are very scary. Especially good ones." Alan folded his hands together.

"You two were on teams before you started to do this, yeah?" Lawrence asked.

"That's correct. On the same team? No. We don't work for the same company."

"What did you work for?" Lawrence watched Alan stiffen in his chair, his trainer was starting to get irked by his curiosity.

"Does not matter. Listen, how about after we get to know each other, i'll answer your questions. For now, lets just keep it to a minimum of, one more question."

"Oh," Lawrence chewed on his lip. It's not like he wanted to pounce questions on him, he was just confused- curious? Curious about the situations, about where he was or what was even going on. "Why did he say he hasn't trained in years? Aren't ya trainers?"

"Oh. Yes, and no? We both…." Alan thought through his vocabulary for the correct words. "Fought. But we were pushed off, working for the same company but...they called us in with a weeks notice." Within seconds after his answer, the door behind Lawrence opened quickly, the same man that gave him the cold glance on the field stepping in.

So he was right.

"Ah, hi, you must be the other scout in training." Alan cut himself off and stood to shake his hand. The other scout being addressed, was taller than the both of them, light brown hair trimmed neatly and brushed to the side. His skin was a bit tanner than his, but clear, his whole outer appearance screamed flawless and that bugged him.

"Max," He took his hand politely and nodded his head. As normal as the same sounded, it rung in the back of his mind, something to keep tight. As they exchanged names, Lawrence watched the look appear on Max's face again when he glanced over. His expression twisted into a single sentence.

Try me, I dare you.

As if Alan could sense the tense air between the two, he clapped his hands together and took in a deep breath. "Lets start with training, yes?"

Alan was mostly focusing on him at the moment, after a couple questions of figuring out who knew more, they all found out Lawrence was the only one that hadn't ever handled a real gun. Or at least, a gun that had major recoil.

The training room was simple: Large open spaces with targets, cardboard cut outs with painted red circles on the middle, and large windows at the top. As plain as the training room was, he figured it was how it was used that made it useful, he doubted they would waste their time mainly shooting at some cardboard cut out. Alan set Max off to begin running laps outside, which he said was not fenced off but there were markers that set where they should and shouldn't go. Outside was used a lot for the Snipers for long distance, anyway.

When they first started, Alan told Lawrence to wait in the middle of the room when he wandered behind a door, exiting in his hand, a small pistol. Lawrence doubted that was going to be the main gun he was going to use, but he didn't want to complain.

"This, is your secondary," Alan held the gun up, his index finger lightly resting on the trigger. He looked the pistol over in his hand, a nostalgic expression appearing on his features. He clicked off the safety. "Not as lethal as your scattergun, but that has a good kick to it. The spread on this gun is a little weird, since you don't really have the time to stop and zoom in like you see cops doing." Alan flashed a smile, slowly walking over and handing him the gun.

At first, the cold metal startled him when it touched his palm. Lawrence made sure to keep a gentle grip on it, watching Alan back off in case he accidentally shot it, and hopefully not in his direction. Surprisingly enough, it wasn't that hard to hold the pistol, and after a couple of test shots at a target, he found out that his aim was terrible. It didn't throw Lawrence off from wanting to learn more, Alan had to walk behind him to fix his aim, his arms stretched forward and one eye squinting at the target ahead.

"Relax," Alan mumbled softly, his hands pushing his arms a bit down. The crack of the pistol rang in the room with each shot, and after having to change the magazine with another quick tutorial from Alan, one of the bullets grazed the side of the cardboard cut out, which was more than he expected to do that day.

"I mean, hey, I actually freakin' hit it." Lawrence beamed, letting his arms fall to his side. Alan nodded and returned the smile, patting him. He could tell with each shot his trainer seemed to be more and more strained, possibly from the sound. If anything, he could relate to him, his ears were starting to ring even if the gun was so small.

Alan's hands reached for the pistol, taking it back and placing it on a table beside them. He chewed into his bottom lip, running his hand through his already messy hair.

"I haven't worked with my main gun in a while, about a year, its been." Alan's smile faltered only slightly. "This new machine Heinrich is building, it's, life in a box honestly" Lawrence traced him with his blue eyes when he went behind the door again, this time in the brits hands, he held a larger gun. It was double barreled, slightly outdated but recently shined and polished, Lawrence wondered if he was ever going to be able to shoot that thing. Alan held the gun gently, one finger on the trigger and his other holding it at the base. He studying the flawless metal, reminiscent awe, the nostalgia made him chuckle hoarsely.

They exchanged nervous looks, Alan mostly looking a bit confused on how to teach gun control, or how to teach someone else on how to use the type of gun. When Alan shot the first bullet, Lawrence felt his ears starting to ring, the explosion of the gun catching him seriously off guard. It pushed back on Alan's grip, who was also caught unaware. He tried to flash a quick smile, mumbling that they sure upgraded the thing since he last used it.

This time, Alan spent more time talking about the gun instead of letting him use it. It's double barreled, lever-action, shotgun. A smile formed on Alans face talking about the gun, tracing his fingers up one of the barrels talking about the anatomy, and the polished wooden handle. It was slightly boring, gun control was something he didn't want to worry about, Lawrence just wanted to shoot. How to clean, or reloading, being careful about jamming, Alan felt a little stupid when he realized that even if he shot himself in battle it wouldnt matter since he had the respawn to rely on.

Fifteen minutes of talking about a gun. When Alan showed him how to correctly hold it, the first shot kicked him hard in the stomach, the recoil for sure leaving a bruise on his stomach. Lawrence didn't expect that type of reaction from the gun, he was going to have to build more muscle mass to support the gun and not hurt himself more than the people being shot.

With the fourth shot at the ruined cardboard cut-out, Lawrence licked his lips and turned his head, Alan's expression bright with curiosity. Though he didn't mean to catch him off guard, his part of the training ended short when he asked about them.

Who are the stalemate fighters?

Now he stood with his feet in the dust, outside where the heat pricked at his skin. He was told to just run laps, run laps around the cones of the whole area. Agility and stamina is a big part of your job, you always run around, you can never stop. You're going to have to seriously work on your aim or you'll never win. He heard the echo of his words in his head.

Lawrence did feel a bit bad when Alan's facial expression twisted into a grimace when he asked, he hated the smirk Max gave him when they changed places. There wasn't a single fence around the area, only dust and dirt and nothing. Ahead, a few trees grew tall in the distance, he could see some targets, most likely for the snipers. With a crack of a gun from ahead, Lawrence dug his foot into the ground and started to run. The cones were spread out far, marking four corners.

One corner got close to a tree, nearly right under, straight ahead near the fences of the large building. From outside, he was surprised when it was confirmed that everything looked like a large prison campus. The third and fourth cone lead directly back to the training area. It didn't make it easy that he was inhaling dust and it was making his lungs hurt within his second lap, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. After lap four, he was starting to feel a bit tired and the pain in his stomach was starting to rise. The running through the dense heat made his muscles already feel weak, his pace slowing but he kept going.

He counted each time there was a shot in the air, it was definitely near the tree where the cones went near. One shot every 30 seconds, when he was reaching lap five, he quickened his steps to reach the tree, stepping over the cone barriers and slowed, smacking his hand against the bark.

He heaved, taking in a deep breath and coughed, straining to look up. He heard a shift in the tree, but he saw a person sitting comfortably in the middle, perked up on some of the branches, his hands holding a smaller version of a sniper rifle that looked something like a BB gun. At the realization there was somebody under him, the male turned and looked down.

Jack?

Lawrence wasn't able to see his eyes from under his yellow sunglasses, sweat from the humidity lined his forehead damply, even if he was in the shade. Jack bit into one of his lips, both locking eyes and staring as if they didn't know what to say. The spot made sense, but honestly, Jack looked stupid in his position.

"What's up, monkey?" Lawrence breathed heavily, taking a step back. Jack's lips twitched slightly, almost into a smile.

"What? You're goin' to kill my concentration." Jack grunted, turning away from Lawrence and put the rifle to his eye again, holding his breath as he aimed, pulling the trigger. Lawrence looked around, making sure to see if they were being watched or if any of the trainers were around.

"Rude, where your trainer?" He asked, he was nowhere to be seen, those snipers seemed so sketchy.

"'duno, said he ain't really the type to do one on one trainin', that I should work on long distance for now. Don't get a good vibe from him, maybe 'es just rusty," Jack let the gun lower.

"He gunna teach 'ya though? Seems like he's just lettin' you down."

"He better." Jack looked down at him again. It's not like Jack doubted his trainer, Daniel at that moment he seemed awfully silent, nearly skittish, talking quickly. He rushed off to go talk to somebody after he gave him his directions. Jack still wondered where the other fellow sniper was. Jack jumped out of his thoughts when he felt the tree shake a bit, letting go of the gun altogether when he realized the Bostonian was trying to get into the tree.

"What the bloody hell are 'ya doin' mate?!" Jack hissed, trying to move over when Lawrence awkwardly found his way up to him. The tree wasn't tall but it was apparent that Lawrence wasn't good at climbing tree's and had no idea how to sit in one.

"Shut up, I just wanted to join!" Lawrence replied.

"Shouldn't you be runnin'? That's what you and your little scout buddy was doin' twenty minutes ago." Jack reached over to his bottle, half filled with water. He gave it over to Lawrence, who looked grateful and snatched it from his hands, taking a large gulp.

"Yeah, but i can run whenever i want. Not like i don't know how to run, i'm like, the freakin' fastest." Jack nodded slowly and felt a smile creep up. He went back to aiming the gun, feeling slightly irked at the fact that he was just blatantly staring at him. He wasn't trying to be nonchalant or anything, his eyes were burning holes into the side of his face. He aimed again, letting his finger press down on the trigger. When it hit the target, Lawrence leaned forward with his eyes narrowed like he was trying to see, shaking his head.

"That ain't your real sniper rifle, is it?" Jack blinked at the question that broke the silence. He raised the gun and tilted it around to show the younger male.

"No, Daniel didn't want the targets broken 'cause it makes it hard to replace 'em when they're out there. It's an airsoft gun. BB." Jack sighed. Using a different type of gun messed up his aim a bit, but he was already getting used to the recoil and how accurate the aim was. Reality check for the gun: The aim was terrible.

"Did that other scout try to talk to ya?" Lawrence asked.

"Nah- Well yes, once. Just asked who I was, 'you that dang snipah?'" He tried to mimic Max's accent, while Lawrence's accent was larger and more obvious, he figured Max was somewhere around New York. "I just said, yeah, beat it kid. Aint a nice one, thats for sure. Reminds me of the rich kids." He sounded a bit bored, but Lawrence nodded in agreement.

"Don't like 'em at all." They both smiled. At least they had something in common, disliking the same guy. "'ey, you seem like you're pretty good." He added. Jack shifted in the tree and looked at his rifle again.

"Why i'm here, mate." Another silence fell between them, so Lawrence wiggled himself down, feeling his body fall and his hands gripping onto a branch so he was able to easily lower himself to the ground. Jack looked curious.

"Not that good, betcha can't shoot me!" Lawrence challenged him, it wasn't like BB guns could actually kill people if you were shot by them. He doubted he would even be hit, it would be small pain, maybe a little bit of swelling on his shoulder if he managed to hit him. Jack looked uncomfortable, shaking his head.

"I'll hurt 'ya, kid." He cleared his throat. "I'll get reprimanded."

"Nah, besides, I don't give a shit 'bout gettin' hurt. Think I can't take a little bit of pain? I grew up on the streets fightin', I came out of my ma with my fists up." Lawrence raised his fists to show him, indeed, he had fists.

"You sure?" Jack chewed onto the bottom of his lip, relaxing his position to get ready to aim. "you can't outrun a sniper, y'know."

"It'll be practice. When I put my hand up and start runnin, shoot. I'll stop at the last target."

Lawrence gave him a thumbs up, kicking his foot down and began to run near the targets. When he got close enough to the first row, he slowed down and looked down all the targets, holding his hand up to ready he was going to begin. Lawrence took in a large breath of air and sprinted, trying to run faster than anything he was ever used to, even if his lungs protested at the sudden surge of exercise.

He nearly felt free, at the end of the targets was when he would stop, but he felt a flash of pain on the side of his head that knocked him over. It cut into his senses and within a second, he felt the air around him and his face hitting the dirt.

At the sight of the body dropping, Jack raised his head and put his hands up, cheering to himself.

"Too slow!" He yelled out, feeling a rush in his body for the first time a long time. He jumped out of the tree, bringing his rifle with him, a smile peeled on his face and waited for him to raise. He was going to boast about this for days to him.

It surprised him when he didn't actually get up, he just laid there. Jack quickly checked the gun to make sure it wasn't anything lethal, just a BB gun, as powerful as it was, the pellet should have slowed down enough to not do severe harm to him. Jack probably hit him in the head, hopefully not his temple. He had to force his body to jog out to where he laid like a rock, slowly stepping closer.

Suddenly, Lawrence's body rolled over, his hand slapped against a spot near his cheek, awfully near the temple. Lawrence groaned. He was taking in deep breaths, part of his face covered in dirt from falling, pain across his features. Jack took in a deep breath, looking around to see if anyone could help but everything was desolate, empty. He knelled down, shaking his head.

"Told ya this would happen…" Jack tried to humor him slightly, he didn't get much of a reaction. He scooped the males smaller body into his arms, lifting him up with a bit of trouble, the weight surprising him. He didn't expect someone so skinny to actually weigh that much, even if he was technically dead weight. He kept the hand on the wound, but when Jack smacked away his hand, the area was swollen red, no blood, no skin tearing.

That's hopeful.

He had a bit of trouble walking half a mile it seemed, back to the training grounds. He pushed open the door with his shoulder, walking in through a different door so he didn't startle Alan and the other scout. He nearly forgot where Heinrich's lab was, eventually he found it. He passed one member, Jane, looking concerned as they passed but didn't say a word. He figured training must have done something to everyone because he only shot him a worried look but kept his mouth shut.

He was able to bring him into Heinrich's office, the medic almost dropping everything in his arms when he sat Lawrence down on the bed. With all the pain, Lawrence couldn't hear much but yelling in German. Something about "attacking" him and quick words in an Australian accent about a bet. He could have sworn out of the corner of his eye, he was somebody sitting in a chair that looked awfully like Daniel, they stood up and followed behind Heinrich.

If anything, it proved to Jack that Lawrence wasn't as bad as he put him out to be. He'd need to apologize profusely when he was able to respond. When medic came over to shine a bright light in his eyes, telling him to follow it's direction, Lawrence sighed softly.

His eyesight went black.

Perfect? No, but it's the best I have. Trainers are for keeping the story along, not major characters, but they do keep the story going.

-Mick