"Zachary Goode," a gravelly voice began in a Russian accent, "Code name Duchess."
Zach raised his head and noticed a muscular man in a green Russian military uniform standing in front of him. Zach, meanwhile, stood with his hands chained to a damp brick wall of a small dark room, lit only by one bare lightbulb dangling from the ceiling. The men were the only things in the room aside from a stool with a large battery sitting on it. The Russian man ashed his cigar and started pacing the room as he continued talking.
"Known from Berlin to Bangkok as the world's most dangerous assassin. So for us, this is how you say a 'good catch.' But not so good for you, Mr. Goode... Because you have information that I want," the man threatened.
He dropped his cigar to the ground and crushed it under the sole of his boot. He walked over to the stool and picked up the battery clamps, touching the two together to send sparks raining to the floor. "And this may sound cliche, but we have ways of making you talk."
Zach raised one eyebrow at the man. "What, with your little go-kart battery?" he mocked.
"Golf cart," the Russian corrected, pointing a battery clamp at Zach's bare chest.
"Whatever. And would you just pick an accent and stick with it?" Zach continued berating the man, who had sloppily moved from a Russian accent to Latvian to Kazakistan throughout their conversation.
"Listen here you little- ," the 'Russian' man yelled at Zach, but was cut off.
"Son of a bitch!" a woman's voice exclaimed, and fluorescent lights were suddenly switched on in the little room. A window was now visible on the other side of the simulation room, outside of which Cammie Morgan was standing with her arms crossed and glaring angrily at Zach.
"What is the point of these simulations if you don't take them seriously?" Cammie demanded through the glass window.
"Krenshaw's arousal?" Zach teased her with a smirk. The CIA simulations expert, Krenshaw, glared at Zach through narrowed eyes. "Besides, I can't take these things seriously between his lame accent and go-kart battery."
"Golf cart!" Krenshaw insisted.
"Shut up," Zach continued, "And speaking of lame, my code name is-"
"Was chosen at random by the CIA computer, same as everybody else," Cammie interrupted.
"Random? You conveniently got to keep your nickname from the Academy. What was it again, iguana? Salamander?"
"Chameleon," Cammie corrected him. She pressed a button on the control pad in front of her, releasing Zach's hands from the chains in the simulation room. "But just a hint, attitude goes a long way with headquarters. Maybe avoid getting 'unsatisfactory' performance reports on these simulations and they can pull some favors for you."
"'Unsatisfactory'?" Zach repeated sarcastically as he walked through the sliding door from the simulation room into the control room, where Cammie was. He picked up his plain white tshirt from the chair next to her and pulled it over his head, covering his scarred chest. "Oh come on, at worst that was 'needs improvement'."
"Jesus, Zach, do you think this is a game?" Cammie asked, still slightly angry. She and Zach started walking down the hallway of the CIA building towards the elevator, their training simulations clearly over for the day.
"No, I think Jenga is a game, and-"
"What if Krenshaw was a real KGB? These simulations are supposed to prepare us for real life situations we may encounter on our missions!" Cammie pressed the button for the elevator and crossed her arms, looking at Zach while waiting for his answer. He smirked and avoided checking out how good her chest looked when she crossed her arms like that.
"I've been prepared from the Academy and the hundred-something CIA missions I've been on. I obviously know how to act in a situation like that, and it's ridiculous that the CIA makes us pretend we're really in danger like we're in some liberal arts college drama class," Zach explained, stepping into the elevator as the doors opened. Cammie followed him but rolled her eyes.
"Look, it's been a while since the last time we were assigned on a mission together so I'm just making sure you're on top of your game."
Zach huffed in shock and retorted, "On top of my game? I'm the best assassin in all the CIA."
"And clearly the most humble as well," Cammie replied sarcastically. "But the fact remains that you have gone rogue for every single mission you've been assigned to this past year and I know you do it on purpose. You-"
"I do not!" Zach interrupted. "Unpredictable situations come up so I can no longer follow instructions from headquarters and I have to improvise."
"You and I both know that's not true. Your missions are still successful somehow, thank goodness, but let me make one thing perfectly clear," Cammie threatened, stepping closer to Zach and poking him in his muscular chest. "This coming mission we will follow CIA protocol one hundred percent of the way through, no deviations."
"So if you're saying you want this mission to go the exact same as the last, does that mean you want to work out some fuck buddy deal like last time?" Zach teased with his green eyes twinkling mischievously, but Cammie immediately slapped him across the face the second the question left his mouth.
"Ow!"
"I want you to listen to me," Cammie threatened through gritted teeth. She hadn't meant to lose her temper like that, but for some reason Zachary Goode just knew the exact buttons to push to get her to react.
"If you want me to listen to you, you'll need to unperforate my eardrum first," Zach mocked, rubbing the side of his face that was now beginning to turn red from the slap. The elevator doors opened as they reached the floor with the suites for the agents to temporarily stay in until their missions started.
"Well un...head out of your ass!" Cammie shouted, not quite knowing how to reply to him. She stomped out of the elevator and down the hall to her room while Zach called after her.
"Clever. See you bright and early, Gallagher girl."
Cammie pressed her finger against the fingerprint scanner, gaining herself access to her room. She went in and flopped onto her bed with a heavy sigh. She knew that one day she would have to work with her somewhat-of-an-ex-boyfriend again, seeing as they were coworkers, but she had been dreading the day it came. Cammie sat up on her bed, too riled up to rest. That was just the effect that Zach always seemed to have on her.
She decided a hot shower would clear her mind, so she stripped off her work uniform, which consisted of a black spandex suit, and headed into the bathroom. Cammie flung back the shower curtain and reached to turn on the water, but her hand froze midair. A blinking red light was flashing at her from the wall of the shower. A miniature spy cam.
"ZAAAAAAACH!"