Studio 22 | Mary-Kate Olsen

Chapter One

February 5th 2017 - England - Family Military Base Camp Gym

"Is that the best you can do?" My twin brother, Sage, teased me as he upped his speed on the treadmill. I smirked, knowing I could advance him easily, so I joined his petty game, cranking the speed up a few notches higher than his. He chuckled and shook his head at me as he matched my speed. Our feet hammered against the moving track in sync just like every time we trained together. We had done a full workout and had no business training to run at the speed we were but our competitive nature brought out another wind of energy in us as we continued to fight for the top spot. I took a sip of my water before looking over at Sage, seemingly struggling as he gripped the handles of the machines. "Can't handle it, S?" I asked in a mocking tone with a proud smirk on my face. I don't know why he bothered at this point, I could outrun him, and he could outlift me. It's the way we were built. He should just get over it. I looked back out at our small town in front of me, putting the speed up again, hitting my max. "I give up," Sage says, defeated as he lowers his speed to a more comfortable level for him. "Thought you might," I say, smirking at him before looking back out at the sandy area in front of us lined with small homes filled with waiting families.

I turned my music on, getting into the zone, bringing a burst of energy to complete a few miles. "You're crazy, you know that?" I heard Sage say before I started the music I laughed with him before focusing on the motions. Training is a big part of our lives. We've been in military training since we were 13, and before that, we would copy our older brothers' workouts, going on mile runs to improve our fitness and boxing classes for combat and strength. Now we are in proper military training, meaning we have to take it way more seriously than we were previously. Luckily, for the both of us, we enjoy it. It's a great way to just let your stress go, forget about everything around you and focus on each movement, each muscle contracting and relaxing. The music buzzing through your ears and the subtle burn of your muscles when you're being pushed to your limit. The scary things in life completely melt away, for 2 hours my parents and big brother aren't risking their lives fighting in a war. Those loud bangs aren't bombs ruining people's lives and I was safe in the gym running, fighting with myself to keep moving.

"Cadets." I hear loud and clear over my music. I slipped my headphones off and around my neck, slowing the machine down to a stop, Sage copying my actions before we turned around to be face to face with a person we didn't want to see right now. It was the base notifier. You never wanted to be addressed by him; it was never good news. We lived and trained on a base camp with military housing. Our parents and older brother are part of the military, and we will be following in their footsteps next year if we pass all the training. I can't see us not passing. We've been groomed for this since we were children. Every generation before us has been part of the military, and we were more than happy to carry that legacy on. So we knew what seeing the notifier meant. It was bad news. It's always bad news. Sage walked behind me until we got to him, and then he stood behind me, placing his large hand on my shoulder, squeezing it. I blinked a few times before taking a deep breath.

"The Commandant of the Military Corps has entrusted me to express his deep regret that your brother, Private first class Atlas Sinclair." I held my breath at the sound of my brother's name. Still, I kept a calm exterior, not wanting to break in front of the others training this morning. "Was presumed dead after being missing in action for two weeks, in Afghanistan on February 4th. He was believed to have been captured and held in a building that had an attack on it. Remains have been found including your brother's badges. The commandant extends his deepest sympathy to you and your family in this loss." He stopped talking and looked between us. Sage's grip on my shoulder was tighter. "Your parents, Colonel Amos Sinclair and First Lieutenant Isobel Sinclair are on route home. They have been informed and will be with you shortly." "Thank you," Sage says, dismissing the notifier. He nods before saluting us, we salute back before he turns on his heels and walks away.