The next morning, the first light of dawn broke over Military Base AE7.
Ethan woke up early, stepping across his quarters to push the heavy window open. Outside, the landscape was swallowed by a pristine, blinding sheet of white snow. The civilian world would look at this place and see nothing but an empty, barren field with a single aircraft hangar. Only the occasional high-mobility military transport vehicle crawling through the drifts gave away the massive, multi-layered fortress hidden deep underground.
Ethan took a deep breath of the crisp, freezing air, watching his breath plume in the wind.
I just hope no one back home finds out about the things I do, Ethan thought, his eyes softening for a brief moment as he stared at the horizon. My mother, my sister, Grandpa... they'd be worried sick. I don't ever want to bring grief to their door.
A sharp buzz broke his train of thought. He pulled out his phone, viewing an encrypted text from Liam.
Liam: Ethan, get down to the subterranean training grounds right now. Bring Allen with you.
Ethan tapped out a quick thumbs-up emoji and pocketed the device.
Ten minutes later, Ethan and Allen stood side-by-side on the reinforced mats of the underground training facility. Standing across from them was Liam, accompanied by the sharp, high-ranking military officer they had saluted upon their arrival the previous night.
"As I've already briefed you, Sir," Liam began, stepping back respectfully. "This is Allen, and this is Ethan."
In perfect unison, Ethan and Allen snapped their boots together, executing a flawless, disciplined military salute.
"This is my direct senior," Liam explained to the boys. "He's agreed to give us a crash course on tactical military operations before we deploy."
The officer returned the salute with practiced ease, a calm, authoritative air radiating from his posture. "Nice to meet you both properly. My name is Adam."
Ethan and Allen nodded, their focus entirely locked on him.
"Liam informed me that you boys are heading into a high-risk operational zone tonight," Adam said, his sharp eyes measuring the physical builds of the two teenagers.
Ethan, Allen, and Liam all nodded in confirmation.
"We have until midnight before the insertion helicopter leaves," Adam stated, stripping off his heavy jacket to reveal a form-fitting tactical shirt. He stepped onto the center of the mat, lowering his center of gravity as he took a strange, highly fluid combat stance. "So, let's begin. In a real-life firefight, your greatest weapon isn't the firearm in your hand. It's staying absolutely calm and maintaining an open mind. Let me teach you the fighting method of the Military."
The hours bled into night.
Back in the briefing lounge, Allen leaned back on the couch, rubbing his sore shoulders from the grueling training session. Ethan sat nearby, his expression thoughtful, while Liam stepped forward, handing both of them bottles of chilled water.
"So," Allen began, taking a sip. "How exactly do we get my name into the Loop's Third Branch system?"
"We have to bypass their secure online entry portal," Liam said, checking his wrist terminal. "Don't worry, I already took care of that. For you."
Allen nodded, mentally running through the variables. "Let me rehearse the plan one more time. First, I enter the race. I push hard, but ultimately lose intentionally. Once the debt contract triggers, I let them capture me and haul me off to their true location."
Liam flashed him a definitive thumbs-up. "Spot on."
"But I still have the exact same question in mind," Allen pressed, his brow furrowing. "How am I supposed to contact you guys once I'm inside? They'll strip-search me."
"Exactly," Ethan agreed, leaning forward. "They aren't amateurs, Liam. Any standard wire or tracker will be flagged instantly."
"I told you guys I had it covered," Liam grinned confidently. He reached into his tactical vest pocket and pulled out a sleek, matte-black pair of standard-looking glasses. "Here. We're using these."
Liam tossed the glasses across the space, and Allen caught them cleanly. Ethan stared at the frames, his analytical mind trying to spot the modifications.
"My eyesight is perfect, Liam," Allen said, inspecting the lenses.
"They're not for reading," Liam chuckled.
Allen slipped the glasses onto the bridge of his nose. The moment the frames made contact with his skin, a subtle, micro-digital chime echoed in his ear, and a faint HUD overlay flashed across his vision. Allen paused, a quiet realization dawning on him as he nodded slowly.
Liam pointed at him, looking over at Ethan. "See? He gets it."
"What am I missing?" Ethan asked, looking between the two.
"These glasses... they're completely covert," Allen explained, tapping the sleek frame. "They don't use standard radio frequencies. They're broadcasting an encrypted biometrics feed—GPS coordinates, heart rate, oxygen levels, and pulse."
Liam nodded eagerly, pulling out a compact, mobile-style display terminal and turning the screen toward Ethan. The moment Allen tightened the frames, real-time data streams began scrolling across Liam's monitor, perfectly tracking Allen's vitals.
"These glasses work entirely on neural and dermal senses," Liam explained with a sharp grin. "The frame uses your skin's natural conductivity to power itself and transmit data through a low-frequency, un-scannable biometric loop. To any guard, they just look like ordinary designer specs. They won't suspect a thing."
Ethan nodded, genuinely impressed by the military-grade hardware. "Brilliant."
"Alright, the clock is ticking," Liam said, his face turning serious as he tapped his terminal. "There's an underground circuit kickoff tonight at exactly 3:00 AM, and Allen, you've been officially assigned to the grid. I'm waiting on the final confirmation text for the exact staging location and your designated bike number."
"Bike number?" Ethan questioned.
"Yeah," Liam answered. "The syndicate provides the specs. Every bike on the track has a registered number. Whichever number you're assigned, that's the machine you have to mount for the race."
Suddenly, Liam's terminal buzzed sharply, a localized data packet flashing onto the screen.
Liam's eyes narrowed as he read the coordinates. He looked up, his expression hardening. "Allen, let's move. The drop-point just registered."
"Where is it?" Allen asked, standing up and checking his gear.
"Amerio's Street," Liam replied, grabbing his jacket. "The most infamous asphalt strip in the Capital for illegal motorcycle and car racing."