Four months pass slowly.
I collapse onto the cot in my sparse living quarters, utterly drained from the day's intense training regimen. The resistance's instructors showed no mercy in putting me through my paces - combat drills, weapons familiarization, field tactics, you name it. My body is one giant pulsating bruise.
Just as I'm drifting off to catch a few hours of rest, a soft rap at the door rouses me. "Come in," I call out groggily, sitting upright.
The door opens and Alyssa steps inside, her stern commander's facade nowhere to be seen. She takes in my battered, exhausted appearance and quirks a bemused smile.
"Sergent Malkovich didn't go easy on you, I see," she says wryly. "The initiation process can be...intense."
I snort, gingerly rubbing a welt on my forearm. "That's one way
