After two months of intense training, Ricardo and his fellow recruits were finally deemed ready for action. The anticipation in the barracks was palpable; everyone knew that the real test was about to begin. Yet, just as Ricardo was preparing to join his company for their first patrol, he received unexpected orders. He was to be temporarily reassigned to another unit—a mix of experienced GN soldiers and a few other new faces like his own.
Ricardo packed his gear with practiced efficiency, double-checking every strap and buckle. He slung his rifle over his shoulder, the patch with his mother's name—Yolanda—resting against his chest. As he made his way to the motor pool, he tried to steady his nerves. This was what he had trained for, but the uncertainty of being separated from his usual comrades added a new layer of anxiety.
The tactical truck assigned to his new unit was a marvel of modern engineering—armored, bristling with sensors, and equipped for rapid response. Ricardo climbed in, nodding to the soldiers already inside. Some greeted him with quiet nods, others with a brief smile. There was little conversation; everyone was focused, alert, and ready for whatever the night might bring.
The convoy rolled out, several GN trucks moving in formation through the deserted streets of California. The city was shrouded in an unnatural silence. Streetlights flickered over empty sidewalks, and the only movement came from the shadows cast by the passing vehicles. Ricardo peered out the window, searching for any sign of life. The quiet was unsettling, a stark contrast to the chaos he had prepared for.
He gripped his rifle tightly, the safety engaged, and tried to recall the lessons from training. Stay alert. Trust your team. Follow protocol. But as the minutes dragged on, his mind wandered. He thought of home, of his mother's voice, of the laughter he shared with his siblings. He tried to focus on positive memories, to keep the fear at bay.
Suddenly, the night was shattered by a deafening explosion. The ground trembled, and a massive plume of black smoke erupted into the sky, painting the horizon with terror. The convoy screeched to a halt, radios crackling with urgent commands. Ricardo's heart pounded in his chest as adrenaline surged through his veins.
"Everyone out! Move, move, move!" barked the unit leader.
Ricardo leapt from the truck, boots hitting the pavement as he scanned the area. The source of the explosion was just a few blocks away—a building engulfed in flames, debris scattered across the street. The air was thick with the acrid smell of burning chemicals and the distant wail of sirens.
As they approached the scene, the true horror became clear. People were running from the wreckage, some screaming, others clutching wounds. The cries of pain and fear echoed off the empty buildings, filling the night with a sense of dread. Ricardo's training kicked in—he moved with purpose, helping to secure the perimeter while medics rushed to aid the injured.
"Who did this?" someone shouted, panic in their voice. "Where are they?"
The GN soldiers fanned out, searching for any sign of the perpetrators. Ricardo's mind raced—was this the work of armed protesters, or something even more sinister? He remembered the rules: engage armed threats, detain those with explosives. But in the chaos, it was impossible to know who was responsible.
Ricardo's eyes darted from face to face, looking for anything suspicious. He saw a woman cradling a child, blood staining her shirt. An older man limped past, his face twisted in pain. Everywhere, there was confusion and fear.
The unit leader issued orders, directing teams to search the area and assist the wounded. Ricardo joined a group moving toward the blast site, his rifle at the ready. The building was still smoldering, windows blown out, the interior a tangle of twisted metal and shattered glass.
Inside, the devastation was total. Ricardo's breath caught in his throat as he stepped over rubble, searching for survivors. The heat was intense, the smoke choking. He heard a faint cry and moved toward it, finding a young boy trapped beneath a fallen beam. With the help of another soldier, Ricardo managed to lift the debris and pull the boy to safety.
Outside, the chaos continued. The GN worked quickly, securing the area and gathering witnesses. The search for the perpetrators had begun, but for Ricardo, the reality of his new role had already set in. This was no longer training—this was war, and he was in the middle of it.
As dawn approached, Ricardo stood amid the ruins, his uniform stained with sweat and ash. He looked at the name on his rifle and whispered a silent promise: he would do everything in his power to protect the innocent, no matter the cost.