"That is a.... M1911... pppp pistol." Tobias's lips quivered, the stutter returned. "It t...t...takes a .45 caliber and the b...b...bullets travel about... " Axle cocked the gun, sending another shudder through Tobias. Tobias was losing it as he stared down the barrel of the gun. "I ... can't remember."

"825 feet per second," Axle said with disappointment, he lowered his firearm and holstered it. "Your mind is only as smart as it can think under pressure." He offered Tobias a comforting wink.

"You will learn how to treat and use your weapon as if your life depended on it, because I can assure you it does..." Axle stepped from the podium, leaving Tobias shaken from the interaction. The lone female instructor then approached the podium with a calm serenity.

"I am your espionage instructor, Juliette Rearden." She was a nondescript person. She had standard brown hair, she wasn't pretty, she wasn't ugly, she wasn't fat or skinny. Rearden looked like an average Jane. Some of the Spartans were unimpressed, but Xander knew that her uneventful appearance was intentional. Xander knew that was exactly how she wanted to look. Rearden was almost unnoticed – exactly what an espionage expert would want.

"If you get caught, no one will bargain for you. Remember we are contractors, we are not military. We do not exist. I will teach you the stealth necessary to conduct yourself in the field as well as in your personal life. You will all be living as different people when you leave this Compound. You are now full-time spies; even your civilian identity is an alias. Identity is paramount in this line of work."

"Any questions?" Jooles hand raised, eager to engage in this field of training.

"Yes..."

"Is Juliette Rearden your real name?" she asked, receiving a few chuckles from the room.

"Of course not," she smiled back, the chuckles grew to laughter. "I look forward to seeing you in class."

Rearden stepped away from the podium and made way for the last of the instructors.

"I am your intelligence instructor, Damien Cusick." Cusick had dark rimmed glasses and greasy, rumpled hair that fell to his shoulders. He had a wide girth, making him the largest person in the room. Despite his weight he maintained an intelligent look. He looked out of place – the other instructors seemed to be military. He was wearing a Radiohead T-shirt, a pair of jeans with a hole in the knee and Converse All-Stars. He squinted a little bit as his sight was blurring from incessantly staring at computer monitors. Maybe it had developed from staring at a computer screen for too many years.

"Really all I can say is that I will teach you the art of hacking information systems. The majority of warfare these days happens on these." He pulled from his back pocket a Smartphone. "Or a computer. You need to know how to fully use one and you need to learn how to use your target's against them. I personally don't have any field experience but I have a great deal of cyber experience." He waited for laughs but they didn't come.

"Who here has had much experience with computers?" A few hands raised, but one shot up.

"Mac Morrison, right?" Cusick asked, seeing the hand that shot up. Mac had a slight modern edge to him – an alternative type who rejected convention. He had rolled the bottom cuff of his pants up to shin height. The sides of his head were shaved closed to the scalp, while his hair remained longer on top. He had dark rimmed glasses like Cusick.

"Yes sir." Cusick smiled, sensing a protégé in his midst. "I love computers, my dad and I used to take them apart and put them back together in the garage. Mac twitched his fingers when talking as if he was typing what he was saying.

"You know who else started in the garage?" Cusick led him. Mac awaited the answer. "Every computer genius in history!"

The room chuckled at Cusick, causing him to fidget and adjust himself, unsure how to react to the laughter. Hardy came up to Cusick and patted him on the shoulder in a way that politely asked him to step away from the podium. Cusick was reluctant to give up the spotlight, but waddled back to the line with the other instructors.

Hardy returned to the podium.

"And lastly I am your History instructor. We will have classroom sessions learning about ancient warfare and battles. This is where we will train your minds on strategy. Since you all are a top secret project in and of yourselves, you will have the highest security clearance. We will study hundreds of missions very few people even knew took place. We will dissect what went right, what went wrong and why they were successful or not. We will study everything from the Trojan War to the Cold War. We will study the geopolitical landscape of the world and many languages."

With a shifting in his stance, he moved to the conclusion of his speech.

"These men and woman will teach you the necessary skills you will need to survive. I would trust them if I were you, because I can assure you they know what they are talking about. If you think this training is going to be a cake-walk like the rest of your life has been, you got another thing coming, because we already know how brilliant you are. But make no mistake, we will make your time here challenging," he presented the syllabus like marching orders.

"Tomorrow you will start with a physical and mental assessment. This will be a one-time process. Tonight you are free to do what you please. There is no curfew in the Compound. You all need to learn how to raise yourselves. If you are tired in the morning I assure you, you will be sorry. Remember, nothing is as it seems. Good evening Spartans!" he nodded and the instructors filed out after him.

A cacophony of nervous excitement burst out in the Mess Hall, as the recruits stood and carried on with their evening. Xander, however, remained in his seat and processed everything he had just heard. He had been able to analyze many of the Spartans and conclude upon their potential expertise. He knew from Jooles soft expression and interest in espionage training that she would be an expert of stealth, Bronson's size led Xander to believe he would be a combat specialist, Mac from the way he typed while he talked was obviously a computer genius of sorts. He knew that Seamus must have been a ballistics expert, judging from the ash on his fingers. Tobias's stutter was only the result of his mouth not being able to keep up with his mind. Ezra would most likely be groomed into a strategist and code breaker, Xander deduced from the newspaper crossword in his lap. His eyes turned to Fiona and he realized he was unable to analyze her, as he was captivated by her sight. It led him to a sullen thought.

All of these recruits have some kind of expertise but what is mine?

There was a nervous excitement in the air, it was like the first day of college.

"Nothing is as it seems?" Xander asked himself, but loud enough for those next to him to hear.

"Yeah, nothing is as it seems," Ashton responded to him. "Our Project Motto. It's supposed to remind us to always be on guard and to always have a questioning mind. Never take anything for granted because the moment you do is the moment you'll get burned. It also tells us that despite our simulated surroundings, the real world is out there. Real people with real ideas and real freedom that we need to protect. We must never forget why we are here,"

"Yeah... and why are we here?" Xander asked.

"We are here to train how to kill terrorists and protect our country. If we fail, people will die and we will too," Ezra said plainly. This was the first time the gravity of the Project weighed on Xander. He felt lost upon arrival, but he's been told where he was and now why he was there, and it didn't feel any better. As he reflected, an assertive yell sounded through the room.

"Hey, Whitt!" Everyone dimmed down and was curious of the new boy who didn't know where he was from. A short black haired kid walked to the front of a small group, arms folded across his chest. His face was tight and compact as if it were a clenched fist. Judging by his voice, this was the recruit who snickered at him, when he admitted that he did not know where he was from.

"Yeah..." Xander answered the call and turned to the contemptuous figure approaching him.

"Where are you from again?" Duke's bark dripped with condescension. Xander recognized the power grab and so did the other recruits.

"Duke... leave him alone," Ashton tried to step in, but Xander took the opportunity to explain.

"I never really knew my parents... they died when I was young. I've moved around a lot and I guess everything has kind of blurred together," Xander responded honestly – he wasn't going to make his first impression with a lie.

"Oh we have an orphan here!" Duke said with showmanship as if they were on the school yard and he was the bully. Bronson responded with a chuckle, while everyone else felt uncomfortable and uncertain how to react. The Spartans held on to the moment waiting for Xander's response.

"The way I see it Duke, we are all orphans now... We're on our own..."

"What did you say?!" Duke advanced a volatile step closer and growled through clenched teeth.

"I said I think we are all orphans now. You heard the Colonel, you have no parents in here." Xander was right but it was nothing Duke wanted to hear. A clenched fist cut the air and collided with Xander right in the face. Xander dropped like a bag of bricks.

"Don't think you can tell me about my life, just because you were never loved, you shithead!"

Ezra stepped in, shoving Duke back on his heels.

"What is wrong with you, Duke? Leave him alone!"

"Welcome to Project Sparta!" Duke wildly laughed, beaming down at Xander.

"Get the hell out of here!" Ezra yelled, putting himself between Xander on the ground and Duke. Duke squared his shoulders but Ezra's eyes were deep with fury. Duke flinched forward in an effort to make Ezra jump, but he did not. Duke then laughed it off until he exited the Mess Hall.

Xander slowly got to his feet and his double vision slowly converged to a singular sight. The pain wrapped around his face from his cheekbone, paralyzing all expression. The Spartans looked on, upset and unsure of what to do.

"Are you okay?" Jooles smiled at him.

"Yeah, thanks..." Xander's gratitude was primarily aimed at Ezra.

"We got to have each other's back in a place like this," Ezra said as a matter of fact, shrugging his shoulders like it was no big deal.

"Don't worry about him, I think he's adjusting pretty slowly," Jooles explained in an attempt to comfort him.

Another boy found his cue and introduced himself, "Hey bud, nice shiner! I'm Mac." Xander reached out his hand.

"Pleasure." They embraced hands and Xander rubbed his eye as it was swelling shut. "So, who wants to play some pool?!" Xander asked, trying to change the subject as he walked back to the pool table and simpered through the pain. Xander knew the importance of putting up an unfazed and strong exterior.

"Count me in too." It was Fiona, skittish and bashful. She met Xander's coy eyes. Some awkward moments passed. He couldn't seem to break his gaze from her glacier blue eyes. Fiona, too, was looking in his eyes, but she was focused on the one that was ballooning before her.

"It's swelling pretty good..." she said, breaking his trance.

"It'll be fine..." he said from the back of his dry throat. The roses in Fiona's cheeks were in full bloom.

Xander arranged the balls in the triangle, setting the rack. He looked up from the balls and spoke a sincere thought.

"Thanks, guys." It was natural for them to sympathize with Xander. They were still going through the difficult adjustment to their new life. They knew it was hard enough to cope with and adding a black eye to the mix could only make it more difficult.

"No problem," Ezra said.

"Anybody have the cue ball? And no, this is not it," Xander pointed to his swelling eye. Everyone laughed. Jooles produced the cue ball and fired off a break. Xander stared down at the table and watched the pool balls break apart at the point of impact. His shot had come up, but he still remained transfixed on the scattered balls across the pool table. A few voices spoke, but to no avail as they sounded distant and lost to his reflection.

Nothing will ever be the same again...

Then through the thought came a small, sweet voice.

"Xander..." His eyes snapped from their position and met Fiona.

"You aren't alone in all of this..."

Xander smiled up at Fiona as he felt companionship for the first time since he had entered the Compound. There was already a budding understanding between the two. He nodded with difficulty, grasped the pool cue and lined up his shot. He snapped his shot off and dropped a solid in the corner pocket.

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