2

CHAPTER 2

            Fawcett peeked from around the corner as Shay exited the interrogation room. For the leader of the Rebellion, Shay didn’t look as intimidating as she sounded. She was shorter than Fawcett, who was almost five-foot-eleven. Shay was more toned than Fawcett though, and her hair was black and cropped short, unlike Fawcett’s long auburn hair.

            “Spying?” Spencer materialized beside her, making her jump.

            “Jesus, we’ve got to put a bell on you.”

            “Actually, my name is Spencer, but I have been known to be rather inspiring and divine so I can see why you’d get the two confused.” He grinned at her, batting his baby blue eyes behind his glasses, and slung an arm over her shoulder. She batted him away playfully and grabbed a gun from his belt. The gun was set to its stun feature. She pressed it between his eyes.

            “Bam,” she whispered.

            “Very funny,” he said sarcastically, snatching it back from her and holstering it. He raked a hand through his shaggy brown hair.

            “They’ve caught someone. I think it’s a Confed assassin,” Fawcett informed him. Peeking around the corner again as guards lined up in front of the door, she tried to get a glimpse of the passcode to the room as Shay locked it. Fawcett ducked back just in time to avoid Shay’s suspicious glance. “I’m just trying to see if I can sneak a good look at him as they open and close the door.”

            “Curiosity killed the Rebellion worker, Fey.” Spencer pegged her with an irritated look before grabbing her arm and pulling her over to the data room. The large room was filled with books, maps, files, and computers. Some were classified and locked under key pads and scanners.

            “I’ve heard that they’re all like super soldiers. They’re supposed to be over six-five and ripped like crazy. They’re pumped with injections from the womb and are trained to kill from the cradle. They’re damn near impossible to capture,” Spencer informed her as she pulled some Rebellion files off the shelf. Fawcett snorted at his description. She looked through the paperwork to find information on Confed assassins. She’d read the files many times over. The assassins were cold, lethal killers with no consciences. They were assigned a target and they took them out without a second thought. The different brand marks on their arms represented their ranks, which had been determined by the lives they took. She hated them all. 

            It was the reason she’d joined the Rebellion. She wanted to take them all down for what they’d done to her parents and brother. The memories assaulted her mind as she blinked back tears. She snapped the file shut.

            “I’m going to the training bay.” She turned on her heel and stalked out the room.

            Spencer dashed after her and caught her wrist. “Are you okay?”

            “I will be,” she replied, pulling her arm out of his grasp. She placed her palm against the scanner and the door whirred to life. “Rebellion Member 349: Bey, Fawcett.

            “State your business.”

            “Training simulation,” she said to the man behind the door. It slid open and she stepped in, followed by Spencer. The uniformed guard stopped him by flinging an arm out, a silver shield stitched onto his shoulder.

            “You haven’t been cleared, runt.” Spencer flinched as the guard used a derogatory term for members like him; ones that were thinner and less military trained than the others.

            “He’s with me, Luke.” Fawcett batted her eyes at the blonde guard, who was used to seeing her in the training bay. “He’s observing.” She put a hand against his chest, pushing him back against the wall to move him out of the way.

            “Throw him into one of the simulation. Teach him a thing or two, soldier.” Luke sneered at Spencer but made no motion to stop them. Fawcett blew him a kiss before pulling Spencer along with her. Luke rolled his eyes and turned his back on them.

            “Sorry about that,” Fawcett apologized, swinging around the corner to the locker room and locating her spot. She opened the locker and pulled out a gym bag.

            “I’m used to it. I’m a med tech, not a soldier. I’m happy with what I am.” Spencer shrugged his shoulders and straightened his glasses uncomfortably.

            Fawcett pulled a training uniform out of her gym bag along with her training boots. She tied her hair up into a bun and started to strip off her Rebellion suit. It was black, with a silver shield on the arm, like the guard had. The only difference was the amount of stripes on her arm. While a guard had two stripes, Fawcett only had one. She was a junior member, the guard was a senior, and somebody with three stripes was known as an executive. As one of the Rebellion leaders in this sector, Shay had four stripes on her uniform.

            Spencer had two stripes on his arm, being a senior medic. He was some kind of genius. He looked away bashfully as she stripped into her underwear and yanked on her training wear. It consisted of a pair of tight, black shorts and a black sports bra with a shield on the left side. She knelt and tied the laces on her black boots tightly. Then, she strapped a silver belt on and equipped it with two daggers and a gun.

            “You can look now.” She straightened her outfit and tapped Spencer, who was still turned modestly away from her.

            “I was being polite,” he said defensively. “Next time I’ll stare.”

            “Go ahead,” she laughed. “I’ve got nothing to hide.” Fawcett had determined a long time ago that only she could control how other people made her feel about her body. She was proud of it, even though it was riddled with burns and scars. Instinctively, she ran her fingers over the two healed bullet wound scars in her left arm.

             Spencer grabbed her hand in his. “You’re beautiful, you know?”

            “Yeah, yeah.” Fawcett laughed again as she walked passed the rows of training stations until she found an empty one. She looked behind her to see that Spencer hadn’t caught up. He was still standing down the hall where she’d left him.

            “Spence?” she called out to him. A strange look crossed his face before she saw him shake it off and join her. “Are we good?”

            He nodded and opened the door, waving her in. “After you.”

            She curtsied dramatically before going in. Spencer followed and locked the door behind them so that the sign changed to ‘occupied’. They stood in a large room with padded green walls and a small tablet near the door. Spencer picked up the tablet and typed in Fawcett’s information for her. “What do you want?” he asked after he’d finished.

            “Let’s go for melee combat. We can practice range later if we have time.”

            He nodded at her and selected the proper setting, then grabbed the sim equipment and visor attached to the wall. The equipment was meant to trace her movements and deliver punishments if she was hit in the virtual reality simulation. Fawcett held her arms up and Spencer stuck sim equipment onto her skin. Then, he cleaned off the visor and placed it over her eyes, brushing a loose strand of hair carefully back from her face. “Good luck out there.”

            She pecked him on the cheek. “Don’t need it. But, thanks for the sentiment.”

            Spenser blushed as he turned on the system and stood back to watch Fawcett train.

 

            Fawcett’s vision blurred for a moment as her eyes adjusted to her new surroundings. She was on the street with a Confed assassin standing before her, clad in a token battlesuit. He was probably about six-four and double her weight, but all that weight was pure muscle. He was built like steel and his aura screamed I-will-kill-you-without-blinking-an-eye. His hair looked black in the darkness of the night. His face was framed with a pair of opaque shades but behind them, she could tell he was handsome. She ignored that thought and put her hands up in preparation for a fight. He sneered at her and attacked.

            Prepared, she dodged out of the way and blocked his punches. As he swung again, she rolled and pulled a dagger from her belt. Dodging around him, trying to get to his back, she raised the dagger and sliced down at him. The assassin caught her wrist and forced her back but not before she got a good kick out and popped his knee. He went down and she took the opportunity to hop behind him and trap his head in between her arm and chest, trying to choke him. Before she could get a good hold, he slipped a knife out from inside his sleeve and stabbed at her stomach. She dodged out of the way but he still caught her side. The system delivered a shock to her body in consequence.

            Spencer watched from the sidelines as Fawcett bounded back and forth between the padded walls. She punched, kicked, and slashed out at an attacker unseen to him. She was the most graceful warrior he’d ever seen. The way she moved when she fought played havoc with his imagination but she’d never see him as more than a brother or a best friend. The tight work out gear hugged her body as she dropped to the floor and dodged.

He flinched as she stumbled in pain. She’d been hit again and the system delivered another shock throughout her body, stronger than the last. She was getting angrier and less controlled as she fought.

            For twenty minutes, Spencer watched Fawcett dance back and forth with her invisible attacker until she was covered in sweat. She growled menacingly before attacking her opponent with full force, but she was getting tired. The system delivered another shock to her body and she stumbled to her knees. Another shock and she was on her back. He was about to turn off the system off when Fawcett yelled and drew her gun. He shut down the simulation.

            Fawcett was panting heavily.  Spencer ran up to her. “You okay?”

            “Damn machine shocks. They always singe me and make me smell like burnt toast.”

            “You smell fine to me,” Spencer commented helpfully. She rolled her eyes and gestured to herself. “I’m sweating like an animal.”

            “You look great. Range?” he asked hopefully. Fawcett nodded and pushed herself to her feet as Spencer typed in another set of codes. If there was one exercise he looked forward to it was range. There was something he was actually good at when it came to defence. He was a pretty good shot, especially for someone who liked to use something as archaic as an arrow as ammunition.

            Spencer went to the rack on the wall behind them and pulled a green and black sim-crossbow and sim-gun. He threw her the gun and double-checked his own equipment to make sure it was properly synched, then shrugged off his shirt. Fawcett pulled the sim-pads out of the equipment rack and stuck them onto Spencer’s body. He shivered at her touch, making her grin.

            “Ticklish? If your enemies find that out about you, you’ll be at their mercy.” Fawcett winked at him before pulling on her visor. He scowled at her before typing in the proper coding and pulling his own visor on. 

 

            Devyn bit his tongue as the door opened. It was the woman again, flanked by two guards in similar uniforms. Suddenly, the shield on their arms sparked in his memory. Of course, he mentally kicked himself. The Rebellion. The male guards stood at the doors while the woman approached him again. Devyn was chained, almost completely naked, to the wall behind him. His modesty had flown out the window a very long time ago, but he wasn’t exactly comfortable. The woman ran her knife over his bicep.

            “Creatures like you look so… human.” She sliced his skin, causing blood to trickle down his arm. “You even bleed like we do.”

            “We are human,” he hissed at her through his teeth. That wasn’t exactly true for all of them. Some assassins came from a different breed with specialties: telepathy, telekinesis, and stronger senses, quick regeneration after injuries. He’d even heard some rumours of element manipulators.

            The woman punched him in the jaw. “You are NOT human. You’re a creature. A monster.”

            Devyn bit back a groan as he shook his head. “Die, w***e.”

            She screamed and pulled a gun from her belt, aiming it at him and pulling the stun trigger until his whole body felt fried. Then, she slapped his face again. “Name and rank, filth.”

            She probably knew his name and rank, but requesting it the way she was, demanding without choice, she was trying to show him her dominance over him.

“You hit like a girl.”

            She pulled a knuckle ring from her pocket and slid it over her hand. He sneered at her, “That’s cheating.”

            “I don’t play by the rules.” She punched him in the ribs, twice. He coughed but let no other sound escape his lips. “The location of your station, where is it?”

            “F**k you.”

            She backed up and kicked him in the stomach. “Where is it?”

            He glared at her.  She took out a knife and sliced him across the chest. Blood ran down his body but the cut wasn’t as deep as the stab wound he held on his back from Ariana. That mulierculum. W***e.

            “I don’t care if you have to neuter him, you will get me his station coordinates, understood?” The woman barked at her guards and swept from the room.

 Station was a term for the base holding the rest of his team. All teams employed by the Confederation were assigned a section of the United Republic. Depending on the location of the section, the stations differed in size and amount of people it held. Every station had a commander and Devyn was first ranking in his. He covered a group of three men and two women. If he knew Blaze, they’d be searching for him when he didn’t show up for morning assignments.

One man stood by the door while another approached him. “Here’s how this is going to work. I’m going to make you feel unimaginable pain, like you’ve never felt before, for about the next five minutes. Then, I’ll take that gag out and you can squeal on all your little friends. If you don’t I’ll put that gag right back in and do it again for ten minutes. The time after that, I’ll beat you for twenty. How does that sound, creature?”

“Bring it.” Devyn stared the man down with a defiant look on his face. The man took a cloth and shoved it in Devyn’s mouth. He gagged and choked.

The guard punched him in the stomach until Devyn could barely breath. His ribs cracked under the blows and his lungs seared. The guard pulled the short dagger that was embedded in his shoulder and buried it in his thigh. Then, he grabbed a torch from his belt. It lit up with the click of a button. Devyn struggled against his restraints but only succeeded in causing himself more pain. The man held the fire to his fingers, searing Devyn’s skin until he bled.

The gag left his mouth. The guard had to look up to meet his eye. Devyn could have pulled his organs out his a*s if he wasn’t cuffed and broken. “Name, rank, and station coordinates.”

“Go to hell.”

The gag was shoved back in his mouth. 

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

You are a very good writer. A detailed story. I like the create of history, strength and life for the characters. I like the location and the training. The story brought me in and you held me to the last word. Thank you for sharing the excellent chapter.
Coyote