First Contact

The abandoned CrossFit gym had been Maya's suggestion. Private, defensible, and equipped for the kind of training they needed. Marcus swept the perimeter for the third time, enhanced tactical awareness catching details he would have missed in his previous life. Fresh tire tracks in the gravel. Scuff marks by the rear door. The faint scent of gun oil.

"We're not alone," he said as Maya finished testing the building's locks. "Multiple people inside. Armed."

"How many?" Her hand dropped to the concealed Glock at her waist.

"Three, maybe four. Professional movement patterns." He closed his eyes, letting the enhanced tactical memory process the subtle signs. "Military, not street thugs. They're using the space for something."

"Probably another team with the same idea. Could be friendly."

"No such thing as friendly unknowns. Not with what's coming." Marcus moved to the side entrance, years of CQB training taking over. "We need to—"

The precognition hit like a tactical flash-bang. Three seconds of crystal clarity: the door bursting open, a shotgun blast tearing through the space where Maya would be standing.

His body was moving before the vision ended, tackling Maya as the door exploded outward. The shotgun blast passed through empty air, deafening in the morning quiet.

"Contact front!" a voice shouted from inside. Professional. Controlled. Definitely military.

"Hold fire!" Another voice, carrying the unmistakable tone of command. "Williams? Marcus Williams?"

Marcus kept Maya covered as he processed the voice. Memory clicked: Victor Cross, former commander of a classified special operations unit. They'd run two missions together in another lifetime.

"Cross?" Marcus called back, maintaining his position. "Since when does a General clear buildings with a shotgun?"

A dry chuckle from inside. "Since the world went to hell. Or rather, since it's about to." A pause. "You're early, Master Chief. We weren't expecting you for another week."

Maya tensed beneath him. Marcus felt his own combat instincts surge. Cross shouldn't know about the time jump. Couldn't know.

"Show yourself," Marcus ordered, shifting to provide Maya a clear line of fire. "Slowly."

Cross emerged with his hands raised, shotgun pointed skyward. He'd aged since Marcus had last seen him, gray threading his dark hair, new scars marking his face. Behind him, two operators maintained professional coverage of the entrance.

"Stand down," Cross commanded, and his men lowered their weapons fractionally. "Looks like we have some catching up to do, Chief."

"You first," Marcus said, helping Maya to her feet while maintaining situational awareness. "Starting with how you knew I was coming."

"Same way you did." Cross's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Had a chat with a certain glowing presence. Got sent back with my own set of upgrades." He nodded to Maya. "Though I see you're already building your team. Always were good at picking operators."

Marcus felt the tactical situation shift like sand under his feet. Cross was a legendary commander, but his methods had always been extreme. If he'd been given powers too...

"What's your mission?" Marcus kept his tone neutral.

"Same as yours. Stop the outbreak. Save civilization." Cross's expression hardened. "Though we might disagree on methods. My intelligence suggests patient zero is already in Atlanta. I say we contain the situation now. Permanently."

"By permanent, you mean—"

"We terminate the carrier before they can spread it. One life versus millions." Cross checked his watch. "My team tracked them to a location downtown. We move in one hour. You're welcome to join us."

Maya shifted closer to Marcus, reading his tension. This was the first test, he realized. Not of his powers, but of what he'd do with them.

"There's another way," Marcus said. "One that doesn't involve executing civilians."

"Always the idealist." Cross chambered a round in his shotgun. "You have an hour to show me this better way. After that, I do what needs to be done."

Marcus saw Maya's hand tighten on her weapon. Saw Cross's men adjust their stance. His precognition remained quiet, but his enhanced tactical awareness screamed that this situation could explode any second.

Time to make a choice. Again.

"One hour," he agreed. "But we do this my way."

The morning sun cast long shadows through the gym's broken windows as both teams maintained their positions, neither willing to back down first. Marcus had faced worse odds, but never with so much at stake so soon.

Three months to save the world. And the first crisis had just found them.