The simulation chamber was nothing like the training rooms Jones had grown used to.
Instead of open platforms and mechanical arms, the space resembled a city block—cracked pavement, abandoned vehicles, dim flickering lights mounted on artificial buildings. Smoke drifted lazily through the air, carrying the faint scent of burned circuitry.
Jones stood at the entry point, still and alert.
Commander Derick's voice came through his comm.
"This is a judgment drill," he said. "Not a combat trial."
Jones frowned slightly. *Not combat?*
"Targets will appear hostile," Derick continued. "Some are. Some aren't. Your task is to decide—fast."
A soft tone echoed.
**Simulation active.**
Jones stepped forward.
Almost immediately, movement registered on his sensors—two figures down the street, shapes hunched and erratic. His system flagged them as potential threats, probabilities flashing across his vision.
He suppressed the overlays.
*Look first.*
One of the figures stumbled, crashing into a wall. Sparks flew from its side, movements jerky and uncoordinated.
Damaged.
The second raised an arm suddenly.
Jones froze.
His instincts screamed to strike.
Instead, he waited half a second longer.
The arm dropped. The figure turned away, limping deeper into the alley.
Jones exhaled quietly and moved past them, alert but restrained.
Another alert—this one sharper.
A droid burst from behind a vehicle, movements clean, aggressive, intentional.
Jones reacted instantly.
He closed the distance, redirected the incoming strike, and delivered a controlled blow that sent the unit sprawling. Before it could adapt, he disabled its core with a precise follow-up.
The droid went still.
Jones didn't linger.
As he advanced, the environment grew louder—alarms blaring, simulated civilians screaming as holographic figures ran across intersections. Some collapsed. Some cried for help.
Jones felt the weight of it press against his thoughts.
*This is what the field will be like,* he realized. *Chaos. Noise. Pressure.*
Another hostile emerged—this one using a civilian hologram as cover.
Jones slowed.
If he rushed, he'd "kill" both.
He circled instead, forcing the hostile to reposition. The moment it exposed itself, Jones struck—fast, clean, controlled.
The civilian hologram flickered, unharmed.
Jones moved on.
By the time the simulation ended, his systems were running hot—not from overload, but from constant decision-making. Every action had required thought. Every second had mattered.
The environment faded.
Jones stood alone in the empty chamber, breathing steady.
Derick entered moments later, studying him closely.
"You hesitated," Derick said.
Jones nodded. "On purpose."
"And you struck when it mattered," Derick replied. "That's judgment."
Jones looked down at his hands.
"I could've ended it faster," he said.
Derick met his gaze. "You could've ended it wrong."
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, Derick turned toward the exit. "Get some rest. You're nearing operational readiness."
Jones followed him with his eyes, something settling into place inside his chest.
This wasn't about revenge anymore.
It was about responsibility.