Chapter 2 #2
It’s no secret to me that The Academy doesn’t like Lauren; they have been trying to find a reason to get rid of her for years.
It's why they always ask how she performs each mission, and why they always do random interrogations on her. Lauren is weak. But I won’t lose another partner.
I’m going to get Lauren out of this, I have to.
“Ma’am, my assigned partner was injured after our mission yesterday. It hardly seems like a fair fight,” I lie, hoping to buy her some time.
“You think your enemy cares for a fair fight?” Trainer scoffs. It’s a fair point, but not the answer I wanted. Shit.
“I think it’s hardly fair when my partner is already weak, and I’m the best. Would it not be better to pin us with opponents more worthy of our skills? I can fight PX-57.” Not a lie, but it still hurts to insult Lauren in front of the entire squad.
“Are you questioning your Madam?”
Please, whatever gods those assholes pray to before death, don’t put me in the chair for what I’m about to say.
“It hardly seems fair; besides, I like to take my time. It would be far too easy to fight PX-28. I would rather have fifty-fifty odds than ninety-ten. Aren’t we supposed to be progressing our skills, not entertaining them? ”
Trainer raises a brow before holding up her whistle. She’s about to call a fight. “First duo on the centre mat, PX-28 and PX-3. And since PX-3 wants to talk back, only one walks away.”
I knew those stupid gods did not exist, but at least I’m not in the chair.
Lauren walks onto the mat, raising her fists and looking at me.
I raise my hands and change my stance, preparing to fight.
She takes the first move, lunging towards me, her fist aiming for my jaw.
But the movement is weak; her arms aren’t tight, and there is no force behind the punch.
I dodge it effortlessly, but thank every single god she finally threw a punch.
It was sloppy. She’s too weak for this.
“Throat,” I whisper to her, watching as she raises her fists to her face again.
I step forward, making it look like I’m going to attack, leaving just enough space in my fists to leave my throat unprotected, and she attacks.
I feel the air being sucked from my lungs, but I can still breathe without passing out, so it wasn’t hard enough.
“Again.”
Suddenly, creating a hint of belief to the traitorous gods, Madam’s heels echo against the concrete floors.
“PX-3 and PX-28 are to come with me.”
Maybe I do believe in the gods, after all. I almost run off the mat, eager to get away, as Lauren follows behind me.
We walk to Madam’s office silently where the Overseer is waiting. Immediately, I can tell this is a mission briefing.
“Agent PX-3, you have been assigned a new mission. Target 106.” I nod, straightening my posture which I only seem to do in this awful room.
“Yes, sir.”
He hands me the mission briefing with a photo of the target and all known information, but at least 98% is redacted.
“Sir? I can barely read this mission report.” I show him the file, and the Overseer nods.
“This target is high value; we cannot afford too much information to be known, but we can tell you this is a top priority.”
I look back down to the mission briefing and find the three words left on the page: death, chaos, and murder. Clearly this person messed up, and badly.
“When do we leave, sir?” I take the photo from the folder, tuck it in my mission uniform pocket, and hand the file back to the Overseer.
“Tonight, formal mission attire,” he says dismissing us before turning back to the Madam.
Taking the short walk back to my assigned bunk room, I find my formal mission attire hanging on the metal rod attached to the back wall. It’s a skin-tight black dress that almost drags on the floor as I walk, the leg slit on the left side barely providing enough mobility to fight when it’s needed.
The black detachable heels sit next to the dress, probably the only reasonable choice for the formal mission attire. The heels come off and turn into flats, making it possible to run. Well, as much as possible with the limited movement, that is.
I’ve made several complaints about the mission attire, but are they listened to? Of course not. Because why would I, the one doing the job, know what I’m talking about? No, instead I got two days in the chair for ‘undermining my superiors’.
Placing my sheath on my outer left thigh and holster facing the inside of my right thigh, I load my gun and place it in the holster. Then, wiping the dried blood off my knife with the rag I used to clean Lauren’s face yesterday, I place it on the opposite thigh and safely clip it into the sheath.
Glancing at the mission report, I hold it up to the light to see if I can see through the marker. I only manage to get one more word from the glare: harbour.
I’ll have to ask Bella what it means later if I get the time.
“You ready? We need to go to the mission sector,” Lauren whispers.
I don’t look at her as I walk down the stairs of the bunk sector.
What she did today was selfish, and could have gotten us both in the chair.
Or killed. Considering everything I have sacrificed for her, I would’ve hoped she would at least pretend to belong here.
Yet I know Lauren never will, and it’s going to get her killed. As much as I try to protect her, most of the time it’s like she’s not even trying to protect herself. I refuse to go down with Lauren. Not when I have worked so hard to be the best one here.
Even if I’ve spent half my life trying to save her, her life isn’t worth mine. Not when I mean so much more to The Academy.