PLEASE READ.

The events of this story have been changed dramatically. If you're reading from where you think you left off, you WILL BE CONFUSED. Please re-read to understand. I'm sorry for the inconvenience.

It had been interesting to watch as more and more candidates appeared into the room, all as lost as she had been. Samantha had arrived the day earlier, approached by a man named Merlin and offered the chance to help people again. Most of the candidates that she'd seen had been given the same advice she had, and stayed away. Trust them with your life, but tell them nothing, had been his parting advice. She hadn't been sure how to take it.

Seven more had appeared through the door, gathering in huddles and making small jokes to pass the nervousness. No one knew what was really going on, all promised that when their group stretched to nine, they would be debriefed and offered a chance to leave. Samantha had been loaned a set of dress, blazer making her feel constrained and shoes pinching at her toes. The two other women walked with confidence and grace, looking like they'd never worn tennies in their life. She'd done her best to not draw too much attention, but whenever they noticed her left arm, the air between them went dead for a moment.

A presence entered the side of her vision, and her eyes traveled from floor to near ceiling as a man reached a hand out towards her. She wasn't short by any means, but he was nearing six and a half feet, clear. Rounded glasses and a somewhat crooked smile, he kept his arm outstretched for her to shake. "Quentin Wickham. Pleasure to meet you."

Merlin's words flickered across her brain, but she pushed them aside and took his hand in her own regardless. "Samantha Ackart," She said, shaking with a firm grip. "Pleasure." As their hands dropped, she took notice of when Quentin's eyes fell on her left arm, throat tightening and he hurriedly looked away from her missing hand. It had been severed near the wrist, white scar lines tracing into the rolled cuff of her jacket. She'd seen the reaction enough times that it wasn't so much of a shock to her anymore, shrugged off as someone behind them laughed.

Desperate for any other topic of conversation to distract from her arm, Samantha watched with amusement as his eyes flickered in panic for a half second. "Have you got any idea what's going on? Even the guy who's supposed to be my mentor was cryptic."

Sam smiled at this, neatly assuring him that his panic wasn't something to worry about. "Not much more than you do. Got here last night-still haven't got a clue. I do think we're all in over our heads, however." She couldn't have timed it better herself, the metal door pushing open to reveal her own mentor after her sentence, a sharply dressed man that carried an intense amount of authority. Everyone fell silent as he checked over something on a black tablet he carried, no one knowing exactly what would happen next.

"Fall in," Merlin said with a glance over the lot as they scrambled to join each other in rank. Sam found herself on the side of the two lines the nine had formed, knowing not to dare and lean forwards to finish observing their stances. She could tell army brats when she saw them-there were at least three amongst them. A long silence passed as they waited in attention, the man's eyes passing over them coldly. With the passing of a Kingsman came the trials of finding a replacement, and a nearly identical match to their skill was almost impossible. Bedivere had been a close friend of his, and replacing him nearly hurt. Merlin wasn't heartless-he was a Kingsman. Crying over a comrade wasn't something he had been trained to do.

The pool of candidates drawn in this time hadn't been nearly as impressive as candidates chosen in the past. Merlin's eyes took in the height and build of each, passing silent judgement on who would break within the first few days. Hours, even. However, based on information he was able to gather on the lot of them so far, Merlin was pleased to note that his candidate showed shocking strength and rigidity, even in the face of a challenge. Samantha Eveline Ackart, a name that had been so plain and uninteresting to him that he hadn't even considered her file to look at when he began selecting his candidate. There was just something about it that he couldn't shake, and when he finally cracked it open he knew he had found what he was looking for.

Gunsman for British Special Air Services Squadron 497, having fought in the Silent War. Incredible IQ like the rest of them, he saw no major weakness about her other than her case of PTSD-though it was understandable, with all that she'd been through-and her missing hand. Both could be fixed easily. All in all, he was very impressed with the twenty-two year old.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Merlin. You are about to embark on what is probably the most dangerous job interview in the world." He gave them all a slight smile, confusion and thrill shooting through their eyes as he continued on with his memorized speech. "One of you, and only one of you, will become the next Bedivere. Now," Walking towards one of the beds, he picked up the forest-green bag off of the top of the stack of things on the bed end. "Can anybody tell me what this is?"

Hands shot in the air, each of them looking for a chance to prove that they were worth being here, worth the risks they were about to take. "You," he said, pointing to the tall boy in the middle, who sharply replied that it was a body bag with a slight nod of his head to confirm his own thoughts. Merlin nodded, setting the bag down and walking into the middle of the room. "Correct. Quentin, isn't it?"

Quentin nodded once again, all of them holding their breath as Merlin spoke. "In a moment, you will each collect a body bag. You will write your name on the body bag. You will write the details of your next of kin on that bag. This represents your acknowledgement of the risks you're about to face as well as your agreement to strict confidentiality. Which incidentally," He said with a smile, the slight trace of poison in his words letting them know that he meant exactly what he said. "If you break, will result in you, and your next of kin, in that bag."

Taking a brief moment to observe once more, he continued. "Is that understood?" A chorus of nods followed. "Excellent. Fall out."

Sam's eyes followed him as he left, not missing the elongated look the two of them shared, nor the slight tilt of his head in a hello. Everyone eventually relaxed, murmuring to each other as they dispersed to collect a bag. There were a few people who looked genuinely haunted by this information, but knew better. Classic scare tactic. "Sorry, but what the fuck?" Quentin chimed in next to her, breaking her out of her thoughts.

"Don't worry about it." She said with a dismissive shrug. "They always do something similar whenever you move camps. No one's going to actually die, they just want to get everyone a bit rattled." Accepting a pen from the girl sleeping next to her, she pressed the end of her arm into the plastic to keep it from moving as she scrawled her address onto it. Sorry dad, she thought, adding him as her next of kin.

"Consider me rattled, then." Quentin mumbled, accepting the pen and sitting on his bed, conveniently next to her own.

Flopping down on her own and ignoring the looks she got when she put her feet on the bed, she adjusted the cuff of her sleeve so that the seam would stop rubbing her. "Thinking about quitting?" She asked, her brain already realizing that without him, the candidate pool would be even smaller. Samantha had no intention of not completing her training. She'd had worse.

"Not a chance." Quentin said with a smile, showing his resilience and his perfectly white teeth. Christ, his last name should have been Bond.

Samantha smiled, settling into her bed further. "Just know that I hope there's no hard feelings when I show you and everyone else up." He chuckled at her comment, tossing his body bag to the side and leaning against the wall. She took this as his way of saying fuck that, and she counted the competition as friendly. But, fuck. What had she gotten herself into?