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Lawson and Will hit the track, combat boots pounding asphalt. The rest of the recruits stood shivering in the biting Virginia wind, forced to watch.
It was hard to tell who suffered more.
Lawson had refused to be humiliated by a bucket of ice water, so he had stayed awake. Running laps felt like breathing to him.
Will, on the other hand, was falling apart fast.
One lap around the massive training yard was roughly a kilometer. For an untrained guy, four or five laps already felt like torture. Will was no runner.
"You good, Will?" Lawson asked, not even breathing hard.
"I… I feel like I'm about to puke my lungs out," Will gasped, face ashen.
Classic response of a sedentary body thrown into sudden extreme effort. If he kept going, he was going to vomit right on the track.
Seeing his roommate about to collapse, Lawson broke formation and jogged straight over to Chief Instructor Peggy Gray.
"Who gave you permission to break stride, recruit?!" she barked.
"Ma'am! Will is redlining. He can't keep going."
Peggy narrowed her eyes at Lawson, then shifted her cold stare to Will, who was swaying like a drunk.
"Four laps and he's already dying? The female recruits in the back row have more stamina than him."
It was a cruel, unnecessary jab. Will's condition was weak, but not everyone was built for endurance.
Will's face burned with humiliation.
"Lawson… I'm fine. I can keep going."
Lawson rolled his eyes. The guy was clearly not fine. If Will collapsed and cracked his skull, Lawson would be stuck dealing with it as his roommate. He wasn't signing up to play nursemaid.
"Will, there's no shame in knowing your limits. You just started. You'll build the stamina."
Will fell quiet. As a psychology major, he knew Lawson was right. But knowing it and accepting it were two different things.
Hearing Lawson dispense life advice on her track brought a mocking smirk to Peggy's face.
"What's your name, recruit?"
"Lawson."
"Well, Lawson, I'm suddenly very curious to see exactly how far you can run."
Lawson locked eyes with her, expression deadpan.
"Ma'am. As long as you can stand here, I can run."
The sheer arrogance of it hit the yard like a shockwave. Peggy looked stunned. The shivering recruits couldn't believe what they'd just heard.
"Are you absolutely sure about that, recruit? I don't tolerate jokes on my training ground."
"I stand by every word. But Ma'am… if I back it up, what's my reward?"
Peggy stepped right into his space, looking up into his handsome, defiant face. A cruel smile touched her lips.
She had pegged him as an arrogant show-off and fully intended to break him.
"You've got confidence, kid. But if you fail, what's your punishment?"
"Whatever you want."
"Perfect. You said it."
"And the reward, Ma'am?"
"If you actually win this little bet, I'll grant you one request. Anything. Now start running!"
Peggy couldn't wait to watch this cocky kid collapse. Lawson stayed calm and raised one finger.
"Ma'am, I need one preparation first."
"What preparation?"
"Hydration."
Peggy's eyes narrowed. She knew exactly why he wanted it, but to make sure he had zero excuses when he failed, she granted it.
She pointed at the tallest, most athletic-looking recruit in the crowd.
"You! Go to the mess hall and bring him a full case of bottled water!"
While the unlucky recruit sprinted off, Lawson began his show.
1 lap… 2 laps… 3 laps…
1 hour… 2 hours… 3 hours…
Peggy stood dead center in the yard, silently counting every lap.
He was crossing his thirty-fifth. Added to the first four, that was a full marathon already.
Yet his face stayed calm. Breathing steady. Only mild dehydration.
Professional marathoners usually finish 42 kilometers in two to three hours and train to eat and drink on the move. Lawson wasn't racing the clock—he locked into a smooth, sustainable rhythm.
Drinking while running is an art. Do it wrong and you choke. Lawson took small, measured sips, keeping his throat wet without flooding his stomach.
By the fourth hour he hit fifty laps. Dawn broke over the horizon.
Peggy and the recruits had been standing on the asphalt all night. Guys like Will had lost all feeling in their legs.
Lawson was still running.
As the sun rose, senior agents and instructors began filing out for morning PT, only to find the Chief Instructor and an entire class staring at one man jogging endless circles.
Realizing she couldn't hold the whole class hostage all day, Peggy dismissed the recruits and sent the other instructors to the mess hall. She stayed, eyes locked on Lawson.
I want to see exactly when your body gives out.
She had committed to a war of attrition and was severely underestimating the Iron Man Trump Card.
One other person watched quietly from the sidelines: Jane Banner.
Jane was on an advanced track and hadn't been part of the midnight hazing, but curiosity had kept her in the shade of the bleachers all morning.
By July the Virginia sun was brutal.
Lawson was finally sweating heavily, dehydration compounding.
Yet his pace stayed perfect and mechanical—like an android that only needed a splash of water to run forever.
Peggy stood directly under the scorching sun, refusing to blink, locked in a silent standoff until noon.
The entire case of water was gone. Lawson had drunk two-thirds on the move; Peggy had finished the rest while standing still.
As the asphalt baked, Peggy's vision began to blur. Panic spiked in her chest.
She had stood motionless for nearly twelve hours with no food. Even with her elite conditioning, her body was crashing.
Lawson? He just looked a little heavier in his breathing. His stride hadn't faltered once.
It was genuinely terrifying.
"Stop! Come here!" she finally yelled.
Lawson jogged over, relaxed smile on his face, looking like someone else had just run sixty miles for him.
"Ma'am. Are you ready to give up?"
Peggy ground her teeth, glaring. The words I surrender refused to come out.
"You look pretty damn proud of yourself."
"Just joking, Ma'am!" Lawson laughed, giving her an easy out. He was stuck with her for months—no point humiliating her. "Honestly, I'm about to collapse. How about you let me off the hook and grab some food?"
Peggy's rigid posture softened a fraction. She let out a cold huff.
"Hmph. I don't need your charity. A loss is a loss. You won the bet. Speak. What's your request?"
"Honestly, Ma'am? I just want permission to go to the mess hall. I'm starving!"
Right on cue, Lawson's stomach rumbled loudly. A second later, Peggy's echoed it.
The silence that followed was painfully awkward.
"Fine. Go eat," Peggy muttered, waving him off. She desperately needed sugar herself.
But the moment she took a step, her vision went black. Her legs buckled and she pitched forward toward the asphalt.
Lawson moved instantly, catching her smoothly in his arms before she hit the ground.
"Ma'am, you okay?"
"Whew…" Peggy rubbed her temples as the world slowly came back into focus. "Skipped breakfast and lunch… blood sugar crashed… too much sun…"
As her vision cleared, she realized exactly how she was being held—pressed tight against his chest in a deeply intimate grip.
She shoved him away and shot a panicked glance around the yard.
Thankfully it was high noon. The track was empty. Even Jane had slipped away unnoticed.
Peggy let out a massive sigh of relief.
"I'm fine. Dismissed, recruit. When you figure out what you actually want for your request, come find me."
"Anything I want, Ma'am?"
"As long as it doesn't violate federal law or Bureau regulations, yes." Peggy nodded firmly. She was a woman of her word.
"Does that include taking you out on a date?"
The question hit her like a slap. She stopped and turned back, eyes suddenly different.
"You've got balls, kid. Hitting on the Chief Instructor on day one? Are you insane?"
In America, as long as both parties were consenting adults, workplace fraternization wasn't strictly forbidden—though it was heavily frowned upon in the chain of command.
"Just asking a hypothetical, Ma'am. Don't take it too seriously!"
Peggy stepped forward and lightly punched his chest.
"Save the charm, hotshot. You want a date with me? Simple. I only date men who are stronger than I am. Think you're strong enough?"
Lawson flashed a wicked grin.
"I know I definitely last longer."
Peggy rolled her eyes and marched off the track. But the corners of her mouth twitched, fighting a smile she couldn't quite suppress.
Lawson watched her go. He had only been testing the waters, but her reaction was better than expected.
Being handsome was a universal cheat code. Being handsome and impossibly athletic? That was basically lethal against women.
Looked like the next six months wouldn't be boring after all.
Mind already wandering to highly inappropriate places, Lawson headed toward the mess hall.
He arrived to find the doors locked. Lunch service was over. Not even scraps remained.
"What the fuck! Am I seriously going to starve on my first day at Quantico?"
He remembered a small commissary on the base map. Stale bread and protein bars would have to do.
But as he turned away, he bumped straight into Jane.
"Lawson! There you are! I grabbed you some food from the line before they closed, but when I went back to the track you were gone!"
Jane held two massive foil-wrapped cheeseburgers and a large bottle of juice.
Lawson's eyes lit up.
"Jane, you're an absolute lifesaver. I could kiss you right now."
He snatched the food and tore into the first burger like a starving wolf.
"I didn't know what you liked, so I just got burgers."
"I don't care! It's calories!"
He wasn't exaggerating. Twelve hours of running on nothing but water had left him ravenous. If someone put a live cow in front of him, he probably would have taken a bite.
Two burgers barely touched the surface.
Under Jane's shocked gaze, he inhaled the first in three massive bites. With the worst of the hunger blunted, he slowed down and ate the second normally.
"Lawson, I saw you running this morning. What happened last night?" Jane asked.
Between bites, he gave her the full story of the midnight raid and his bet with the Chief Instructor.
Jane's face twisted between guilt and awe.
"Wait… because I warned you, you stayed awake, and the instructor punished you for it?"
"It wasn't a punishment," Lawson grinned. "It was a bet. And I won."
Jane looked at him with pure admiration.
"Lawson, your stamina is inhuman! Chief Instructor Gray is a monster. She runs physical conditioning for the entire Academy. She was my instructor too. After the track comes hand-to-hand combat—and let me tell you, she's the deadliest fighter on base."
"Is that right?"
Lawson's mind immediately started spinning.
He had only asked Peggy out as a joke. He wasn't desperate for action.
But using his winning bet to demand private, one-on-one combat tutoring from the deadliest instructor at Quantico? That was brilliant.
His Trump Cards gave him terrifying raw stats, but he lacked refined technique. Top-tier FBI CQB training would make him lethal.
If I learn how to fight properly… the next time I see that bald street racer, I'm folding him like a lawn chair.
Thousands of miles away, completely unaware, Ray Gaines suddenly exploded into a violent sneezing fit.
"The hell? Am I catching a cold?"
Back at Quantico, Jane waved a hand in front of Lawson's face.
"Lawson? Lawson? What are you smiling about?"
"Huh? Nothing! Just spaced out. What were you saying?"
Jane gave him a highly suspicious look. That smile had looked genuinely evil for a second.
"I was explaining the curriculum."
Probationary agents endured a grueling month-long physical conditioning phase first—designed to forge discipline, hence the midnight ice-water raids.
After that, recruits split into specialized tracks.
Field agents like Lawson moved into advanced hand-to-hand combat, tactical marksmanship, and active crime-scene investigation.
Tech analysts like Will shifted to psychological profiling, behavioral analysis, and cyber forensics.
At the end of the cycle everyone took a final exam. Fail and you repeated the rotation. Fail twice and you were permanently expelled.
Right on cue, a familiar voice called across the courtyard.
"Lawson! There you are!"
It was Will, looking exhausted but visibly relieved.
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