Key:

"sp" –denotes spoken dialogue

'sp' –denotes thought dialogue

italics(sp)- denote expressed thought and speech

A/N: Folsom Prison Blues is the respected copyright of Johnny Cash, the Cash estate, and Sun Records.

XI

Staring at the wall with a blank gaze, Nyromi sat silent letting her thoughts drift. Yet, despite her resolve, images from that afternoon would not leave her. In a vain attempt to pass the time, she picked stray threads out of her sweatpants and t-shirt. A knock on Nyromi's door woke her from this solemn isolation. Answering the door, Giacomo stood at the threshold; his hands behind his back.

"May I come in Miss Lautani?"

Waiting a few moments, Nyromi granted him a silent nod. Walking into the room, Giacomo took a metal thermos from his coat pocket. Closing the door, Nyromi returned to her place on the bed looking intently at Giacomo. With a guilty gaze, she watched as he poured the hot beverage into the cup lid.

"Tea usually helps one speak, when they are unable to," Giacomo said handing her the cup.

Nyromi took a sip, the bittersweet chamomile and cinnamon slightly easing her mind. Upon gazing at her own reflection in the liquid, tears welled in her eyes once again.

"Would you mind telling me what happened in the gymnasium?" Giacomo asked.

"A bit," Nyromi looked at Giacomo pleading, "Please…don't make me."

"I didn't witness it for myself, but you have the whole compound talking."

"Please…don't."

"And Jean, a fine mess at the infirmary. He'll probably be laid up for a long while."

"Please…"

"And Joaquin…"

At that Nyromi looked up.

"…the boy's locked himself in his room. He won't even answer for me."

Looking back at her tea, Nyromi took another sip.

"Why did you take him there?" Giacomo began.

"I didn't mean to…"

"Honestly, did you think he needed to see that?"

"I just wanted him to feel…I don't know…vindicated; avenged, maybe."

"…Through witnessing that scene of brutality?"

Nyromi stared intently at her tea.

"He's already witnessed such a thing first-hand, he…remembers his parents."

"Yes, I've read the file."

"Then, why?"

"…No child should be treated like that."

After a long pause, Giacomo walked to the window by the door. Looking out, he spoke.

"I think the same way you do. Twice I tried to escape with him. I'm not a rich man, but I have money in banks all over Europe. We could've hidden anywhere, but it was Joaquin himself who talked me out of it.

"Why didn't you make him go?"

"He makes a very convincing point. That boy is wise, well beyond his years."

Turning back to face Nyromi, his eyes became watery.

"I love that boy as if he were my own son, in many ways he is. If I can take back all that has happened, I would. I can't be there for him every time. Can I trust you to protect him?"

"With my life," Nyromi stood.

"Thank you."

The morning sun rushed into the compound like a breath of fresh air. Employees, civilian and military alike, began to occupy this vast place carrying on with their daily routines. In the office of Director Giacomo Lorenzo, the overly bright light shined down on Lieutenant Nyromi Lautani, as if judgment was to be passed over her. Standing at attention in full-dress, she nervously awaited the Director's verdict.

"Miss Lautani?" Lorenzo began.

"Yes; sir," Nyromi shakily answered.

"I must tell you, I am not pleased. Have you gone to see Jean yet?"

"No sir, I have not."

"He's making remarkable recovery strides, but it'll be at least a month before he's at full strength again."

"Sir, I take full responsibility for my actions."

"Indeed. I allowed this fight to commence because I assumed it would be adequate in assessing your singular combat effectiveness. However, I never thought it would go this far."

"Again, I take full responsibility for my actions. Such a thing will not happen a second time."
"I should hope so. As such, you've succeeded in forming a bond with the boy. That is your only saving grace from being dismissed outright. Miss Lautani, you're being granted one more chance."

"Thank you, sir."

"However, should we have another occurrence; I will file a report and deliver it to your superiors at Interpol. You will then deal with them and be ejected from this program. Are we clear on this?"

"Crystal."

"My own superiors with SISDE as well as certain military brass have requested a practical assessment of the boy's abilities. I believe this will be a most opportune time in which to showcase those abilities."

"How long do I have?"

"Two weeks."

"He'll be ready in one. If I may ask, what will the procedure be?"

"We'll be using Standard NATO CTF."

"Hmm, may I make a few modifications to the live-fire course?"

"I suppose, what did you have in mind?"

Nyromi smiles wide, filling Lorenzo with concern. With a few statements and recommendations; Nyromi watches in humor as Lorenzo slumps back into his chair.

"You can't be serious Miss Lautani."

"I am Director, sir."

"That is something that only the most elite squads around the world could conquer."

"Yes, I know."

"Do you honestly think little Joaquin can pull it off?"

"Begging your pardon, sir; I don't think, I believe. When he does so in record time, your supervisors will have all they need and the project will be secured for years to come."

"Very well, I'll allow it. We will be stepping out on a thin limb and I will not tolerate failure in this instance, Miss Lautani."

"Indeed."

During the week Nyromi had the construction crew build her a unique shooting range. Targets stood at four sides in a square pattern with a watchtower standing at the center. Underneath that tower, Joaquin stood with a 9mm in hand and a blindfold on his head.

"Okay Joaquin, like I said. Listen for the noise. That is where I need you to fire, understand?"

"Yes, 'Omi."

"Start as soon as you here the first snap."

Waiting in anticipation, Joaquin's hand shook. Shooting at the makeshift range was one-thing, but this new stimulus was more than a little unnerving.

"Al, sing the song I taught you."

"Okay."

Slowly, quietly, Joaquin began; "I hear the train a comin',it's rollin' round the bend…"

Just then Joaquin heard the clack of a pop-up target,"…and I ain't seen the sunshine since I don't know when…"

Firing two shot into each target making that distinctive sound before all was silent.

"…I'm stuck in Folsom Prison and time keeps draggin' on. But that train it keeps a rollin' down on to San Antone…"

Hearing another set behind him Joaquin turned in that direction and fired again emptying the cartridge, "…When I was just a baby, my momma told me, "Son, always be a ood boy, don't ever play with guns…"

Something dropped to his side making a rough sound unlike the clack of the targets. Just as Nyromi said she would, she dropped another gun down the watchtower. Squatting toward the sound, Joaquin picked it up tossing away the 9mm. With a snap of the lever it was ready, except something was different about this gun. The grip was bigger and the gun itself heavier, time doting on this was wasted when suddenly a fresh set of targets presented themselves to Joaquin's left.

"…but I shot a man in Reno. Just to watch him die…"

The targets were felled but more came with increasing frequency and they seemed to come from everywhere. Yet, Joaquin kept singing and firing all the same sometimes having to twist his body in an inhuman manner to gain any kind of angle.

"…and I'd let that lonesome whistle, blow my blues away."

"Time," Nyromi yelled from the watchtower.

Taking off his blindfold, Joaquin took a look at the weapons strewn around him. Two 9mm's, a .357, a .44, three 45's, as well as a 10mm lay on the floor; expended.

"Not bad Joaquin," Nyromi smiling from the latch in the watchtower. "You hit over 90, but now comes the hard part."

"The hard part?" Joaquin asked beginning to sweat.

Tossing separate plastic baggies from the tower, Nyromi looked at Joaquin again.

"In each of these plastic bags is replacement ammunition for each gun. Now; without the blindfold the targets will be coming from all directions and you will have to match the correct ammunition to the correct weapon."

"O…okay," Joaquin answered his nervousness increasing.

"Oh, yes. I would like you to recant Mozart's Marriage of Figaro and you will also be doing so under fire."

"Whaaa?!"

Firing a single shot from her new Colt Commando assault rifle, a small green blotch covered the patch of dirt between Joaquin's feet.

"Now can you get them all before I make you my green meanie?"

Smiling, Joaquin sprinted toward the first baggie. Nyromi smiled in turn and centered her scope on Joaquin's back.