Chapter 8 - Smitty

Smitty looked up from the P-6 he was recalibrating to see Michael walking toward his area.

"Hey kid. Still hanging in there?"

Michael gave him a slight smile and replied: "I'm fine."

Smitty grinned at that answer. No matter what shape Michael was in, his answer was always the same. He took a closer look at the kid and noticed a few fading bruises from a recent sparring session. The look in his eyes was solemn, but there was a lightness there showing amusement from Smitty's greeting.

He recalled the first time he saw Michael. Kendo had unceremoniously told him that Smitty will be training a new Valentine ops recruit in weapons and munitions.


"I don't have time, Kendo! I'm swamped by all the missions going out. I don't have time to babysit a Valentine recruit!"

Kendo had looked unmoved and authoritatively stated: "Just do it."

Smitty had still been grumbling when Michael showed up at his station an hour later. Michael had moved so quietly that he startled him when he seemingly appeared in front of him all of the sudden.

"Don't do that! Are you nuts? You don't ever startle a guy holding a bomb!"

He glared at Michael while telling him off. To give the kid credit, he merely quirked his eye brow while looking at Smitty with obvious amusement showing in his eyes. Seeing the light in his eyes, he found himself inexplicably charmed by the kid.

Smitty studied this new recruit with a critical eye. Michael looked really young, just a kid really. His youth made Smitty feel every one of his 52 years of age. There was a cat like grace about him. While the kid may appear harmless to unsuspecting onlookers, there was already an aura of danger to him, something that with time will be honed to a lethal edge. Michael had an extremely handsome face, which will eventually grow into sheer masculine beauty. It made Smitty almost pity the marks Michael will be targeting.

"They tell me I'm supposed to train you in weapons and munitions. What experience do you have?"

Michael responded solemnly: "I've had experience building a bomb."

He didn't have to explain further. Smitty had heard all about how Michael had ended up in prison. It wasn't surprising that Section had recruited a person responsible for the death of over 30 people. What was surprising was Michael himself. He didn't fit the stereotype of a radical student activist.

Smitty had seen all types of people go through the door of Section. He'd seen serial killers, remorseless psychopaths, users attempting to prey on your sympathies, and those who claim they were innocent and didn't belong. If you've been brought into Section, chances are you've seen or done something unforgiveable. Society as a whole was better off that the folks inside Section wasn't out there free and unchecked.

Michael didn't carry himself like a victim, a martyr, or sociopath. He seemed like a kid who had walked down the wrong path, down a rabbit hole, and was now in so deep there's no hope for deliverance. He didn't attempt to intimidate or tried to work your sympathy.

Yeah, it's safe to say he liked Michael immediately.

"I want you to build the same bomb you made before."

Smitty leaned against the wall and watched Michael gather various equipments and quickly put the bomb together. Within 15 minutes Michael had built a bomb using 250 grams of Semtex wrapped in aluminum, surrounded by nails placed inside a bag.

"You don't have the entire ingredient needed to replicate the bomb."

"Oh? What else do you need?"

He took a look at the bomb and was impressed by the sophisticated construction using simple parts.

"I used a chemical compound to amplify the explosiveness of the bomb."

Smitty was even more impressed when Michael listed the chemicals he used. The ingredients were harmless by themselves, when mixed together at the right combination, had proven to be deadly.

"How the h*ell did you come up with that mixture?"

Michael shrugged and said with a hint of sadness: "I was extremely motivated."

Smitty inexorably wanted to cheer him up, but knew it was useless. He clapped his hand on Michael's shoulder in comfort. After briefly tensing his shoulders, Michael gradually relaxed.

"Come on kid, let me show you what other ways you can make things go Boom!"


Michael had proven himself to be a quick study, rapidly absorbing all that Smitty cared to teach him. However astonishing Michael's ability in munitions was, that was nothing compared to his superhuman natural ability in marksmanship. Never in his life had Smitty seen someone who became skilled and adept at handling guns as quickly as Michael.

"Are you sure you've never fired a gun before?"

Michael gave Smitty an amused look when he asked the same question for the fourth time in an hour. "No, I have not. Gun control is strictly enforced in France."

"You're going to give this old man gray hair, Michael. Alright, try this one."

He handed Michael a Styr Aug. "This is a Styr Aug, 508 millimeter barrel with a flash suppressor. It has six-groove rifling, fires 650 rounds a minutes with a built-in 1.4 times optical sight that can be converted to electro-optical. Now you just hold that tight against your shoulder, find the sight, and gently squeeze the trigger, but don't jerk."

He needn't have bothered to warn Michael as he lets out a short burst of fire, dead on the target. Smitty just shook his head and took the machine gun back from him.

"Alright, get out of here. We'll play with more toys another day."


Smitty's attention was broken from his reverie by Michael's polite inquiry.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah. Just getting old kid."

Michael simply cocked his head slightly to the side and looked at him.

The reminder of today's lesson made Smitty almost jump in excitement. "Have I got a treat for you! We found a Grunen 412 in the field the other day. Check it out!"

Every word rang with excitement and humor lighted Michael's eyes at Smitty's obvious delight.

"This baby has a detonator that is pitch and roll sensitive. You need an extra steady hand to handle this bad boy."