Up Close and Personal

Chapter One: Endurance

Don Flack had been dreading this day for months. Ever since the Captain had kindly informed him that 'due to his liking of upsetting senior figures, who happened to be close friends of the mayor, he had been elected to aid in the Endurance Day at the Acadamy'. Flack had nodded silently, then cussed and sworn to Detective Danny Messer, who had recently been offered the position of third-grade Detective at the New York Crime Lab. Flack had told him to take it, after all, he had the knowledge to fit right in with the lab techs. Flack himself had just applied for a position in the Bank Robbery Task Force, so he knew complaining about being stuck in the Acadamy for a day would be pointless.

All recruits hated Endurance Day. Boxing, cardio-vascular excersise, strength tests and finally, grappling, meant they were exhausted by the time they were done, physically and mentally. It also meant mistakes were made, and injuries occured. Flack had been stuck in the grappling room, the final post. This meant he would be the bad guy - the one trying to flatten a broken recruit after they'd already been put through hell.

Payback was a dish best served by pulling ranks, it would seem.

When the day came, Flack stood alongside the other 'volunteers' - (two of eleven were also there as a punishment, he had discovered) - facing the recruits. Men, and some women, faced them with steely determination, a glint of self-assurance in their eye that would be gone, their bodies broken and exhausted when they got to his station. The Acadamy Sergent explained the rules and stations, and Flack glazed over as the familiar words washed over him. He'd sprained an arm on his Endurance Day, but that was not uncommon - one recruit in his class had broken his leg in four places when an officer came down on him wrong in grappling, ending his police career for the forseeable future.

He jerked out of his daze as the officer next to him - Detective Second Grade Leila DeVerde from the Bronx Vice squad - nudged him. "Hey, me 'nd you 're in grapplin'." She told him, her New York accent thick.

Flack grimaced. "Great. I bust my shoulder last time I was there."

"Worst room." She agreed. "All 'cos I busted some Detective's arm for hittin' on me."

He laughed. "You kiddin'? Man, that'd earn respect at my squad. Me, 'm still tryin' to make Bank Robbery."

Leila led him over to the grappling room, a square area covered floor to ceiling in padded mats, every surface available to slam your opponent against without causing too many serious injuries. Of course, this idea was not taking into account the two-hundred pound police officer slamming down on top of you, therefore injuries were more common than initially thought.

The first set of grappling went exactly how they predicted; the traininee officers came in, limbs trembling from the strain they'd been put through, and faced Flack with such hatred he thought only serial killers were capable of. Each time, he'd floored them quickly, and stood back up, yelling at them.

"Come on! You think it's easy on the force? Get up!"

Then, they would slam into him with force. If he pitied them, and they worked hard, he'd let them pin him. If not, it carried on again. The only real moment of excitement had been when a female candidate had become too wound up with Leila and tried a head shot, so Leila had quickly caught her fist and broken her wrist, before accompanying her to the hospital, despite the protests and cussing from the Officer.

But one woman, no more than twenty, stood by the door, sweat glistening on her head, NYPD Acadamy t-shirt looking too good for him to keep his concentration long enough to stop the latest recruit jamming a knee into his kidney. "Sonofa-" He pushed up with all his strength, flinging the officer off him. "Get outta here! You ever do that again, I'll get your ass suspended myself!"

The Acadamy Instructor glanced at the female trainee. "Angell. Our female grappler's accompanied a recruit to the hospital, so you can hang around, if you-"

She arched an eyebrow, stretching out her shoulders. "Sarge, can you garantee that I'll be tackling women on the force? If not, why should this be any different?"

The Instructor shrugged and beckoned Flack over. "Flack, this is Candidate Officer Angell. We've no women free, and she's elected to grapple with anyone. You're up."

He sized her up. No more than 120lbs dripping wet with a gun strapped to her, she was lithe and slim. He tried to analyse her weaker points so he could go for them rather than use full force. Despite the fact that she was right and criminals would show no mercy for her, Don really didn't want to go all out and crush her; broken ribs tended to set back training (he knew that one thanks to experience). She put more weight onto her right leg than left, and her wrist had a lighter strip around where he figured she'd worn a support.

Slowly, he moved around her. Angell followed his eyes with hers, keeping her shoulder facing slightly towards him, ready to drop and absorb the impact when he attacked.

Don didn't disappoint.

Moving quickly, he struck out with a blow to the ribs, followed by a sweeping kick to her ankles intended to knock her down. But she was good. The woman lowered her arm to protect her side, absorbing the blow as best she could. It was a poor long-term technique - she'd eventually end up with a weak shoulder, maybe a dislocation if she was realy unlucky against a bid oponent - but it was effective enough to give her time to pivot round, landing a roundhouse to Don's side. He grunted, and twisted her weak wrist backwards until her knees buckled and she sucked air in sharply, before hooking her ankles out from under her, knocking them both backwards.

He was fast thinking enough to catch his weight on his own hands rather than fully land on her, but that didn't stop the proximity. Angell stared up at him, a little breathless as her eyes bored into his. He had to admit, she had nice eyes. Nice body, too... which was envoking all sorts of inappropriate fantasies in his brain now that she wrapped her leg around his, trying to use his own weight against him. He lost his focus for a moment, giving her time to pull him leg round, push up with her opposite hip and flip them. As she pinned him to the floor, Don briefly considered what the punishment for kissing her would be.

Before his imagination went too far, he gripped her waist and pushed her off himself, sending her tumbling across the mat. She rose, a small smirk on her lips. "That the best you' got?"

Don chuckled. "Unfortunately for you, Officer Candidate Angell, that is time. Day's up. Go find out if you passed."

"You gonna pass me on grappling?" Angell asked, looking adorable as she cocked her head to one side, hand resting on one hip.

"Not if you keep this up." he retorted with a grin. "Go on. Out."

"Jess."

"What?" he asked, eyes locked onto her retreating figure.

"My name. My old man was Officer Angell for too long." she called without turning back. His eyes followed her out of the room, tracing along her slender frame. Suddenly he was very much looking forward to dealing with the rookies at their next scene, just in case Jess Angell was there, with looks so dangerous they should be registered as a lethal weapon.

Officer Rayes, a friend of Don's with equal issues with authority stepped into line next to him. "Don't even think about it, amigo. Rook's are outta bounds."

"Think what?" Don replied innocently, but there was no use pretending. He was caught. Hook, line and sinker.