As my back landed hard onto the padded floor of the gym near the Crucible for the umpteenth time, I let out a weak, hoarse groan at having the wind knocked right out of me. My view of the ceiling lights was then obscured by the face of my new partner. Apparently, Mr. Sonnac thought that leaving me to the tender mercies of Brigadier "Saint" George Lethe was a bad idea, and so for the majority of my training, I was assigned a new personal trainer by the name of Priscilla Ross, a recent college graduate who had just become a full-time Templar agent.

She was in her early twenties, with chin-length strawberry blonde hair that framed a face that was pretty in an accessible girl-next-door kind of way, and amber eyes looked at me in concern. As I had learned after the first of many one-sided sparring matches, Priscilla was also capable of using magic. While she couldn't manipulate the elements like I could, her talent lay in Reinforcement, which allowed her to pump anima into her body in order to enhance her strength, endurance, and speed to superhuman levels. However, she didn't need any of that when handing me my ass in sparring, due to her martial arts experience. "You okay there, Chase? Did I throw you too hard?"

"Nah… I'm fine." I uttered as I propped myself up onto my elbows and accepted Priscilla's helping hand. It was a few days after my arrival in London, and we were currently doing close quarters combat training. For the past few days, I had been training almost nonstop to become a soldier of the Templars. Spells, punches, kicks, grappling moves — they were all part of the curriculum of the two-week training course I was taking, along with one other skill Mom would've strongly disapproved of.

"Well, if you're alright, then let's get out of here so we can eat." Priscilla said as she handed me a gym towel to wipe my sweat off with. "After lunch, we can get started on target practice."

For lunch, we sat on a creaky wooden bench in Ealdwic's local park to eat the brown bag lunches I had made myself. Ealdwic Park was a lonely island in the sea of busy metropolitan London, and even in the bright light of the summer afternoon, it still retained a haunting sort of melancholy. As the last bite of my turkey and pickle sandwich went down my gullet, I turned my head to ask Priscilla a question in order to keep away the creeping gloominess. "Hey, do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"Sure, fire away." Priscilla said as she pulled open her bag of potato chips with the crackling sound of plastic tearing apart, and the air was filled with the comfortable sound of her chewing and crunching.

"Ever since I started cooking for you these past few days, you've been laying off my arms during training." I said with a bit of mischief in my voice. "Why is that? Is it because you don't want to have to go back to eating Hot Pockets and takeout?"

I smirked inwardly as Priscilla froze, a Lay's barbecue-flavored potato chip halfway to her still-open mouth. A second later, she had recovered her wits, and she answered a bit too quickly for her response to be considered trustworthy. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Right…" I said dryly as Priscilla continued eating, not meeting my eyes as she did so.


"Fire at the sound of the timer…"

Even while wearing protective earmuffs and earplugs made of a magically-grown sponge that sealed the wearer's ears shut when decibel levels got too high, I could hear the timer's loud beep perfectly. Grabbing hold of my pistol with my right hand, I drew it from its shoulder holster beneath my armpit. As my Beretta 92FS Compact cleared its holster, I took up the isosceles stance with a speed honed by long hours spent practicing just my draw.

Making sure that the sights of my gun were lined up with the silhouette target I was shooting at, I switched off the safety and moved my trigger finger into position. With one pull, the gun went off, firing a 9x19mm Parabellum cartridge towards the target's torso, hitting it near the center of the target printed there.

Carefully letting the trigger move forward and reset itself for another shot, I then pulled the trigger again before swinging around to face my next target. Two gunshots then rang out, and they fired so closely together, they might have been mistaken for just one. Moving over to the last target, I executed a Mozambique Drill, a close-quarters shooting technique that involved firing two shots to the chest, and if necessary, as in this case, following through with a headshot. All three of my shots ended up near the center of their respective targets.

Coming to a halt, I looked around for any remaining targets, and after confirming that I hadn't missed any, I carefully engaged the manual safety of my Beretta and holstered it. Turning around, I then looked at Priscilla, curious as to how I did. "Amazing work, Chase! That was textbook."

I felt myself going red at the praise as I reached up to scratch the back of my head. "Thanks…"

I was surprised to find out that I'd be learning how to shoot a gun in order to supplement my magical training, and even more surprised to learn that I was actually good at it. After taking a crash course in tactical first aid and the gun laws of both the US and the UK, I learned the basics of using firearms and caring for them, as well as the four cardinal rules of gun safety: always treat a gun as if it were loaded, keep the safety on and your finger off the trigger until you're ready to shoot, never point a gun at anything or anyone you don't intend to harm, and think twice about what's near your target before you pull the trigger, just in case you miss.

From there, we started going into actual physical firearms training. I remember how my arms began to ache after practicing my draw in slow motion for minutes at a time so that Priscilla could correct my small mistakes and also so that I could develop muscle memory. Once Priscilla had deemed my draw "acceptable," she gave me a selection of training guns chambered for .22 Long Rifle rimfire cartridges with which to learn the basics of aiming and actually hitting the target.

I ended up going with a Beretta 87 Target, and the low recoil of the training gun's caliber helped me to avoid developing the bad habit of flinching in anticipation of the recoil. After I had gotten the hang of it, Priscilla then switched me to the Beretta 92FS Compact, the compact civilian version of the Beretta M9 handgun used by the US military, due to its similar controls to the 87 Target. With my new weapon of choice, I began refining my basic skills under Priscilla's supervision, and I also started learning the more advanced techniques, like shooting while on the move and carrying a concealed weapon.

Shooting could almost be considered fun for me, even when Priscilla decided to throw me a few curveballs by slipping in dummy rounds into the magazines I was using, forcing me to use the 'tap rack bang' drill I had learned on the first day in order to fix the malfunction and get back to shooting. However, stripping my pistol down to its individual parts in order to be cleaned and put back together again was considerably less fun. However, the patience and motor control that I had developed over years of having to cook for myself came in handy, and eventually, I was able to disassemble and reassemble my pistol in under a minute with my eyes blindfolded.

In addition to training with my handgun, I also learned how to take away an attacker's gun during close quarters combat training, and once I had gotten the technique down, my speed surprised both me and Priscilla. While most people were capable of disarming faster than the person holding the pistol could react, I was on a whole other level. As long as I was within arm's reach, I could take the gun away from an aggressor before they even realized it was gone.

My Beretta pistol wasn't the only gun I trained with, however. I also learned how to use the M4A1 assault rifle, a smaller version of the M16 assault rifle used by the US military. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to get the same level of familiarity with it as I had with my Beretta due to time constraints, but nevertheless, I became a pretty good shot with it.

Once we were finished with the M4A1, I began learning the more obscure techniques used by the various SWAT teams all around the world, such as moving around corners without getting shot or having my weapon snatched away from me, passing through a doorway without exposing myself too much, and fighting in low light conditions while having to juggle a tactical flashlight in my other hand. I also learned how to wield a combat knife and hurl grenades of all kinds: frag, stun, smoke, as well as magical ones specifically enchanted for different purposes.

Of course, I didn't neglect the magical side of my training, either. Since Priscilla didn't have as much of an affinity for Elementalism magic like I had, that part of my training was left to Brigadier Lethe. After the first few instances of incurring his wrath, I reached a point where I stopped caring about the pressure he put on me and started pushing myself so that Major Hardass wouldn't have to. Fireballs exploded as I threw them at the chained-up rakshasa, and lightning bolts leapt from target to target, frying them to a crisp as they went.

The rest of my training seemed to pass by in a blur, and before I knew it, I was gearing up for my final exam. It would consist of various tactical scenarios in both light and dark conditions, with both my Beretta and magic available to me to use in conjunction. Time to see if my training had payed off.


"Clear the first area! Go, go, go!" Priscilla's voice said, loud and clear over the training course's speakers, and drawing my pistol, I began moving through the last leg of my final exam, which took place in another part of the Crucible. Switching my safety off as I caught sight of the first target, I realized that it was a little old lady "civilian" target that I wasn't supposed to shoot, and I made sure to keep my finger off the trigger as I stepped past it. However, the next target that popped up was holding a gun on me, and I responded by shooting the gunman in the face, knocking the silhouette down to the floor.

Another trio of baddies popped out like jack-in-the-boxes, and one went down after another in rapid succession. Dodging past the silhouette of the man walking his dog, I then punched forward towards the silhouette of a looming rakshasa, sending a blue fireball flying towards it. As the magical projectile exploded and knocked the target down, I heard Priscilla's voice over the loudspeakers again. "Area cleared! Move into the building!"

As I stepped through the doorway and past the wall that constituted the front of the "building," I immediately took notice of my surroundings. Two gunmen were on either side of me, but the third hostile in front of me was holding a man in a business suit hostage. It took me a split second to weigh my options, and almost in the same instant, I reacted. Ending the life of the hostage taker with a single well-placed shot to the head, I then switched targets, and within seconds, the other two hostiles were "dead."

"Up the stairs!" Priscilla barked, and as I leapt to obey the order, I was ambushed by a silhouette with its knife raised in an icepick grip above its head. Without even considering my Ka-Bar knife, I triggered my magic with the mental image of me getting shot in the head, my left fist burst into blue flame as I began pumping anima into it. I hardly noticed the harsh clang of my skin and bone meeting metal as I punched the target. Priscilla had taught me a little bit of Reinforcement over the last few days, and while my enhanced strength was nowhere near hers, it was still enough to make the target fold back to where it came from. "Area cleared! Jump down!"

"Last area! Move! Move!" Priscilla urged as my feet landed gracefully onto the floor. Judging by the weight of my gun, I still had six bullets left in my Beretta's thirteen-round magazine, which was just enough for me to finish off the remaining hostile targets if I aimed carefully. The hostiles began dropping like dominoes, one after the other, and as I crossed the finish line, Priscilla was there waiting for me. "Okay, now that was nice! Run like a true professional! Wouldn't you agree, sir?"

I jerked in shock as I realized that Brigadier Lethe had been standing there the whole time. After quickly engaging my weapon's manual safety and holstering it, I stood up straight and gave him a salute. Judging by the twitch at the corner of the grizzled veteran's mouth, I'd say he was kind of amused. "Eh, I've seen worse. He's still got a few rough edges, though. In any case, you've passed the test. You can now call yourself a true soldier of the Templars. I'm sure Sonnac will be pleased to hear about this."

My face couldn't help but break into a smile at the rare compliment from Saint George. "Thank you, sir."

I then turned my head to address Priscilla, who was also a combat medic in addition to a qualified firearms instructor. "Hey, do you mind if you check my hand? It hurts like hell from that one punch I threw coming up the stairs…"


6/10/15 Edit: So as my older readers have probably noticed, I've changed Chase's FN Five-seveN to be a Beretta 92FS Compact. Doesn't really change anything plot-wise, but Chase will now have an easier time finding ammo for his weapon and keeping it concealed.