This Is Not the Life That I Imagined

Stretching, John woke up in the afternoon in his room at BMI. He turned on the light beside the bed as he shielded his eyes away from it. He blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting to the bright light. Memories of the mission spin in his mind, each battle against the mutant beasts flashing like slideshows.

 After driving back from the mission in the early hours of the morning, he had gone straight to bed without even showering, the grime and fatigue still clinging to him like a second skin. Taking a deep breath and exhaling, John regulated his mental status as he enjoyed the peace that came with his solitude.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed; the cold floor drove the remining sleep away. He rubbed his eyes as he stood with a grunt and walked slowly toward the bathroom. The steam from the shower would be a welcome reprieve, washing away the remnants of the night and leaving him refreshed for whatever awaited him.

After all, he knew that the respite wouldn't last long. He had a sense that new missions and challenges were just waiting around the corner.

In the bathroom, he turned on the shower; the hot water fell on top of his head, then the rest of his body. He stood there, eyes closed, letting the water run, enveloping him in its warm embrace. With a heavy sigh, he began to wash away the grime, wishing to wash away not just the dirt but the memories of blood and violence.

His thought drafting back to Toby, Maxwell, Joe, and Zak—hoping they were faring well in the elite dungeon. Once he finished, John stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist and glancing at his reflection.

His body already healed from the scratches and bruises as he shifted to his vitality attribute while he was in the car driving back to the BMI. Though his body had healed, the mental toll still lingered. After a quick change into a fresh uniform, he headed to the main area of BMI, seeking a breakfast and a cup of coffee.

As he walked down the corridor, he noted the busy atmosphere—agents preparing for missions, strategizing, and checking equipment. He could hear the distant sounds of activity. The faint murmur of voices—it was a familiar symphony of the BMI's relentless hustle.

"Hey, John!" a voice called out, pulling him from his thoughts. It was Evelyn, one of the support staff from the technology and planning department. She approached him with a concerned expression. "You okay? You seem lost in your thought."

"Nothing. Just got back from a mission this morning." John replied with a smile. "What's going on?"

"You requested a new sword or something better after your sword broke. Did you forget?"

"Did I?" John frowned, momentarily taken aback. The memory of his sword snapping mid-battle flashed in his mind. He could still feel the shock of it, the way the blade had cracked as the mutant hyena bit into it. It was already in bad shape after continuous fighting throughout the night, but it still broke under the mutant teeth. He couldn't deny that he panicked at that time, and he was forced to continue the rest of the fight with a broken sword.

"Oh, yeah. I sent the request when I was in the car. I didn't know you were the one handling it though."

"Well yes, I'm handling it, but your new sword would need some time to make as only normal swords are available in stock." She walked alongside him as he went to get his meal. "For the meantime, you have to do with a normal sword until the better one is made."

"Mhm. Okay, I'm used to the normal sword anyway." He brought his meal and coffee to a table as Evelyn sat opposed to him with her own coffee.

"There's something I've always wanted to ask," John said, taking a thoughtful bite of his sandwich. After swallowing, he continued, "We have all this technology, but we're still using swords and bows. I know technology won't work well in the dungeon, but I'm in the investigation department; I deal with things outside. Wouldn't it be better to give us guns and stuff?"

Evelyn took a sip of her coffee before answering, "There are many reasons, but I'll just give a few. First, low-caliber guns barely do anything to mutant animals, and high-caliber ones are expensive and loud. We're fighting all over the country. Imagine the public hearing gunfire every day—it wouldn't exactly put them at ease, would it?" She blew on the coffee before taking another sip.

"Plus," she continued, "we're all people with talents and stronger physical bodies than normal humans. So, we can't limit ourselves to any kind of weapon. You use a sword because it fits with your ability, but others use different tools—every individual uses what works best for them."

"Mhm," John replied amid bites. "Makes sense." Finishing his meal, he sipped his coffee as he had a casual chat with Evelyn.

Evelyn finished her coffee and stood up. "See you later, John."

"Later." John's mind wandered after Evelyn left. 'I'll take the rest of the day off. I won't train today; maybe a little jog would do.'

Standing up, he went for the training ground and stretch a little before the Jog. 'Why do I feel uneasy about the elite dungeon? I'm sure Maxwell and Toby progressed a lot as I did, or even more so. And from what Evelyn told me, Zak and Joe are experienced members. Still— Never mind; worrying won't change a thing.'

And so John started his jog. He found peace in the rhythm of his steps, each stride easing the tension from his mind. He went outside of the BMI building and got into his car as the setting sun cast a golden glow over the city.

The park near his apartment, with its quiet, winding paths, felt like a small refuge. He found a bench by the lake and sat there for a while, watching the sun disappear beyond the horizon. The water rippled gently, reflecting the fading light, and for a moment, everything felt peaceful. 

By the time he returned to his apartment, the calm of the evening still clung to him. He made a simple dinner, savoring the quiet as he played a few rounds of games, letting his mind unwind before finally crawling into bed, completely at ease, the weight of the mission slowly fading into the background.

.....

In the middle of the night, with no moonlight and only the stars twinkling above, a piercing alarm went off in John's room.

Beeb! Beeb! Beeb!

John jolted awake, eyes darting around as he fumbled for the source of the sound. He rubbed his face and grabbed his BMI watch, grumbling under his breath.

"Stop ringing! What the hack!"

He turned it on and stared at the message.

(Warning! Warning! Warning!

 Emergency mission being issued: A dungeon on the verge of outbreak was discovered. Go to BMI and await further instructions!

This is not a drill! Repeat, this is not a drill! Failing to show up would subject you to penalties and questioning.)

"WTF! A dungeon outbreak!"

His drowsiness vanished in an instant as he shot up from his bed. Reading the message several times to make sure he wasn't imagining things.

 "Oh my God! I need to hurry."

John raced to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face, trying to wake up faster as his mind raced. Without wasting another second, he hurried to put on his clothes, then sprinted to the car as he raced off to the bureau.