FIVE YEARS BEFORE THE OUTBREAK...

Simon was right. Ares did break on the first day, physically speaking.

In the last three months, Ares had already broken three bones: his left leg, his left arm, and now his collarbone, all thanks to those training dummies. He never thought he'd face a punching bag that could punch back with twice as much power as he had.

Fortunately, thanks to the Ambrosia, his bones healed in two hours at most and he'd be back in the training program in no time. In fact, he had been one of the best fighters in the entire project. Seventy-two rounds, seventy-two wins. He was also assigned to train Hermes in hand-to-hand combat, but he was worried the old man would break easier than he did. From the way Hermes looked, he was probably in his late sixties, one of the oldest veterans in the facility without a doubt.

But now the Ambrosia Project was about to change. Schaefer reported an incoming wave of new recruits, all of them cadets. He claimed the new recruits would range from sixteen years old to twenty-five, some of them barely enlisted and others right out of training. Once they showed up, the Ambrosia Project's subjects would consist of the young and amateur and the old and experienced.

Ares sat in the infirmary with his arm in a sling. The only person in there with him was Hera, who rarely spoke aside from instructions and deadpan snarks. She was at the sink washing blood off her hands after working with another subject's fracture, one that was a hundred times worse than Ares's broken collarbone. Apparently, the bone penetrated through the poor soldier's skin.

"So it's that bad, innit?" Ares asked.

"Yes, sir," Hera replied, turning off the water. "Dionysius received a compound fracture after the training bot stepped on his foot and knocked him to the floor. Once he was down, the bot kept walking across his leg and smashed it to bits."

"Please tell me he didn't feel that."

"He wasn't supposed to if the Ambrosia functioned properly, but he did. Granted, he wasn't screaming bloody murder like one would expect, which hopefully means it wasn't as bad as it could've been, but he was still in too much pain to move. Given the Ambrosia's healing process, he should be fine in a few hours."

"I recall you people saying it's supposed to work in seconds. Or at least that's what Artemis implied."

Hera glanced at Ares with a cold expression. "We're humans, not gods. And just like gods, our creations are flawed but well-intentioned and can bring destruction if not put in place. Because of that, we are endlessly working to improve Ambrosia and make sure it meets its full potential by healing immediately after the harm is done. However, Dionysius may be removed from the Ambrosia Project if his healing isn't successful."

"Can't you just shoot the wanker with the AMBR-TRIG like on the first day?" Ares replied. "That's how my hand got healed."

Hera grabbed a paper towel and dried her hands, throwing the paper in the trashcan once she finished. She pulled up a seat and sat down in front of Ares. "The AMBR-TRIG only activates and deactivates the nanites. It doesn't speed up the process. We might be able to speed up the process if we somehow aggravate the nanite's healing powers, but the side effects can be fatal if it goes wrong."

Ares raised an eyebrow. "What could go wrong?"

"The nanites could overpower and explode, unsurprisingly killing him from the inside. Some of the chemicals used in the Ambrosia could leak out and poison him. In fact, leaving inactive nanites inside of you already increases your risk of metallic poisoning and blood clots. Anything could happen to you and the rest of the subjects, but that's what these tests are for."

The pattering sounds of footsteps echoed through the hall outside the room. Since the door had a window, Ares and Hera stood up to look through. Outside, lines of test subjects made their way through the corridor, following behind Schaefer and Bennington. Given their shorter statures and tender-looking faces, these must've been the young new recruits.

"Fresh meat," Hera said, still watching the newbies pass by. "Now we can see Ambrosia's effects on youth."

"What is Ambrosia's target audience anyway?" Ares asked. "From the way you said it, you make it sound like a product that everyone's gonna be using some day. Like if immortality will become a fad."

"Ambrosia is for military personnel only," Hera replied. "However, since you and the majority of our subjects are veterans, the new recruits will be using it the most if all goes well. England should have the strongest soldiers in the world once this is done."

Ares looked out and caught the attention of one lad in the crowd, a teenager no older than sixteen. He and the rest of the male soldiers around him had nicely groomed short hair, which Ares found to be slightly disappointing since the regiment leader he worked under ordered him and his comrades to shave their heads. He was very skinny for a cadet, hardly any muscle on him aside from his arms. And just like all the other recruits, he looked like his head was in the clouds, unfocused on the world around him. He returned his view to the floor as he continued advancing forward with his squad.

"Keep moving, sprogs!" Schaefer shouted. "We're losing daylight!"

Bennington, who was at the front of the line with Schaefer, looked back and spotted Ares on the other side of the door. "Ares!"

"Oh shit," Ares mumbled. He stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him. The same recruit he saw earlier glanced at Bennington in confusion.

"Oh I'm sorry, is your name Ares?" Bennington threatened the cadet. "Keep your eyes on the path in front of you."

The teenager remained silent and returned his view to the hallway.

"Ares!" Bennington called again.

Ares jogged through the hall to catch up with Schaefer and Bennington. "Yes, sir?"

"Find that cunt and bring him to the front of the line," Bennington replied. "He's your new bunk mate."

"But, sir, I'm already sharing my quarters with Hermes," Ares replied.

"Aren't you aware of the fact there are three beds in there?" Schaefer chimed in. "Some of the rooms have patterns relating to their occupants. One newbie, one soldier in the middle of the age gap, and a veteran geezer. In your case, your quarters have one newbie and two veteran geezers."

"Now please get the boy," Bennington added.

Ares jogged back into the crowd of recruits. He shoved past many of them before finally finding the right one, who stared at him with the same confused look he showed Bennington.

"Come along, kid," Ares said, nodding his head towards Schaefer and Bennington.

"What's going on?" the teenager asked.

"You're coming to the front. Now let's go."

"What happened to your shoulder?"

"I fucked up. And I already told you to follow me."

"Am I in trouble?"

"You will be if you keep standing here doing nothing. Now come on."

The teenager followed Ares to the front without another word. Both of them endured some insults from the other recruits as they shoved their way to the front, but they ignored it and kept moving. The others couldn't do anything to them anyway. Ares was a veteran with orders from their leader, so he was privileged in more ways than one compared to these newbies.

Once they arrived at the front of the line, Ares continued talking while the teenager stood there awkwardly. "Okay, brought him up," Ares said. "Now what?"

Schaefer glanced at the teenager. "Ah! There you are, lad."

"Greetings, sir," the teenager replied. "My name is--"

"Don't say it," Schaefer interrupted, pulling out a clipboard. "I don't need your name. I just need you here."

"Then how will I know when I'm needed elsewhere?"

Schaefer didn't respond, seemingly ignoring his question and instead flipping pages attached to his clipboard. He paused once he found the picture of the boy and pressed his pointer finger down on it. "Came straight out of the training camps?"

"Yes, sir."

"You're sixteen years old, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. There would've been a few issues if you weren't. But anyway, how did you learn about the Ambrosia Project?"

"Some of my squad mates back at the camps had the choice of heading straight into battle or receiving additional training at a military operation called the Ambrosia Project. They told me that if it it's successful, I'd be able to return to London to see my brother again."

"What about serving in the British Army?" Bennington asked. "Wouldn't you like to honor your country?"

"I do, sir, but I haven't seen my brother in years. I'm not even sure if he's still at the children's home."

"Well I wish your brother the best of luck," Schaefer replied kindly. "And if this project goes as planned, I wish you the best of luck in returning to him safely."

"Thank you, sir."

"Call me Zeus." Schaefer placed the clipboard down to his side. "This is Hades," he said pointing at Bennington. "And that's Ares. You, lad, will be known as Atlas."

The teen shrugged. "Atlas. Why Greek figures?"

"Why not?" Ares replied.

"I'm afraid you're no longer needed, Ares," Schaefer said bluntly, not even looking at Ares. "You can return to the infirmary to check on your wound."

"That's it?" Ares asked.

"Yes. I only needed you to tell you who your new bunk mate would be. Now get out of here."

Slightly miffed, Ares walked away, heading back through the crowd toward the infirmary. Nothing seemed more exciting than returning to that taciturn woman Hera and have another conversation until his collar healed.

"Nice meeting you, sir!" Atlas called out to Ares.

He followed Schaefer and Bennington into the next room, where he'd go through the same steps as Ares did: a brief introduction to the project, get his body injected full of Ambrosia, go through the painful activation via AMBR-TRIG, and then probably get something broken in the training center.

Then he'd meet the same horrible fate as everyone else.