The Initiation


Sharp talons dug into Cherry's arm and shook her awake. Startled, she jolts upright and finds herself looking straight into the red, furious eyes of Second Lieutenant Speede. He is a monstrous pilot...three heads taller than Cutter, blood-red colored, and has black tiger stripes racing down his body. His long face is crinkled into an angry grimace. When he sees Cherry come to, he steps back, glaring at her fiercely.

"What do you think this is, Private?" he snarls. "A getaway resort? You missed drill practice. You have some catching up to do."

Cara and Delta stand behind Speede. Cara cleared her throat. "You'll have to excuse Speede." she said, not unkindly, but still firm. "He's the go-to ant for rousing sleepy new recruits. Cutter sent you to us because he thinks you're Recon-50 material. I hope you can prove him right." She smiled slightly.

Cherry tried best to compose herself. Still half asleep, she spoke the first think that came off the top of her head.

"Thanks for the alarm clock." she said to Cara, referring to Speede, and yawned. "I thought all the aromatherapy in the room would have calmed him down. Sorry I missed drill practice. I'm not used to having a schedule."

Speede growls again, and clears his throat. Indeed, the usually pleasant fumes floating about the room are getting to him...but not the way they were intended.

Cara shook her head. "It would be nice if all it took to calm Speede down was aromatherapy. Unfortunately, the Second Lieutenant has an aversion to anything meant to pacify an ant..."

Delta chuckles, and Speede shoots both of them a withering glare. "I think we should be honest with you, Private Cherry." Delta said. "We really don't have much of a schedule either, but all new recruits are subjected to this, so I suggest you just hold on for the ride."

Speede, still fuming, stalked from Cherry's quarters. Delta and Cara followed him out. Cara stopped in the doorway and turned to Cherry.

"I suggest you pick a good weapon, Pravate." she warned. "Apparently, Speede wishes to meet you in the sparring ring."

That last statement from Cara shocked Cherry fully awake, and her eyes widened with the awareness of what lay before her. She took a dep breath to calm herself, and grabbed her weapon that sat up against the wall. It was the custom-made carved rose stem with the three sharp thorns polished to perfection. She took care to get the other one without the poisoned barbs. "Let's go tame the lion." she smiled to Cara as they walked out. "I hope this won't take long. I haven't had breakfast yet."

Cara loked over her shoulder at Speede. "Actually, he reminds me more of a tiger." She smiled. "And he hasn't had breakfast either...he claims he's more awake on an empty stomach. More aggressive, too...so I'd be careful if I were you."

Cara led Cherry to the practice ring, where Speede was already warming up, twirling his spear/sword from one hand to another. He paused in the middle of his warmup and saw Cherry, his red eyes darkening. He hefted the weapon in one hand and ponted it at her, his wings flaring as he barked out a challenge. "Private Cherry!" he roared, his voice booming across the airfield. "Since you missed your first day of drill practice, I failed to observe you. I'm calling you out to a duel to make up for your absence. Do you accept?"

Cherry tried her best not to show the adreniline flow that suddenly erupted through her veins. Before she got a word out of her anxiety-parched throat, her antennas did the talking for her in a wild crackle of electricity. She felt the power surge through her palms, and fear suddenly turned to confidence as a sly smile crept across her face.

"I always say yes to such a handsome face." she teased, poising her own weapon. She held back the laugh that threatened to break out at Speede's temporary look of shock. She could see that he had not seen such a weapon like the one she had, and knew she had another advantage. This was going to be interesting indeed.

Speede's jaws began to work in a soundless curse. His fangs soon clicked together audibly as he began an undulating, wavering growl deep in his throat. Its primal tone sent shivers down th spines of nearly everyone nearby. Even before Cherry was fully in the practice ring, he pounced at her, his deadly spear/sword whistling as its polished blade cut through the air. Quickly, he strikes for Cherry's midsection. His swiftness was astounding, as was his precision and the ferocity of his attack.

She started to fly up, and Speede knocked her down, flinging her into the wall. She almost hit the spectator standing there, who quickly moved out of the way, shock on their faces.

"No flying allowed in this duel, Private!" Speede hisses. "If you don't play fair, I won't either." Faster than Cherry's eyes could follow, he darted towards her and struck with a fast, short jab to her thorax. As she doubled over, Speede reached down with one claw-tipped hand and picked her up by the nape of the neck, then tossed her back into the arena as casually and effortlessly as if he was flinging a used tissue into the garbage.

"I can play ball all day." he growls. "I know you can do better than this, and if you continue to fight one breath below your capable level, I will slay you where you stand." His talons, clenched around the dual handles of the spear, glisten dangerously under the floodlights of the sparring ring.

"Think." Cherry breathlessly, mentally told herself as she prepared for her next move. "You're not fighting a praying mantis. You're fighting a trained killer."

Something told her to control her emotions and use the skills she had been taught. Speede's words stung as bad as his claws. He wanted to see skills, not blind instinct. She composed herself and stood up slowly to meet him.

"You think I was fighting before?" she challenged him, her strength and wits renewed. "That was just a warmup. Playtime's over."

She blocked his next lunge by dropping and rolling and rose to flip backwards over her spear. then before he could hit her again,she kicked him in the chest and swung her weapon against his arm. The barbs tore into the skin, drawing blood. Before he could retaliate, Cherry danced around him to try for another move. She could hear the crowd going wild.

The toes of Speede's sharp feet dug into the floor like the roots of a bristlecone pine that quickly uprooted for another attack. Cherry felt inwardly pleased with herself that at least she had managed to injure him. She also smiled as his breath was starting to come in ragged gasps. But then, so was hers.

"Had enough?" she challenged, bracing her weapon. His eyes were even wilder than before, a look that bordered on the insane. Cherry was well aware that he was easily capable of killing her, but she was still alive. She knew this was just a test. But would she pass?

Speede gritted his teeth as he glanced down at the wounds. He snorted laughter, then looked back up at her, a wicked smile flickering across his jaws.

"You must be kidding, Private." he hissed. "I've seen skinned knees worse than this." He stepped forward, twirling the two-handled weapon in front of him. He feigned with a strike to the left, then shot out with a slap from the right with the flat of the enormous blade. Even if Cherry had managed to block it, the force still would have sent her falling on her backside. He must have thought that Cherry's previous strike was a better move, since this last offensive maneuver could have easily killed her.

Before Cherry could recover, Speede balled up a fist and clocked her in the jaw, dropping the smaller ant like a rock. He pinned her left wing to the ground with the tip of his spear's blade as he stood over her.

"I believe the questions is, have - you - had enough?" he growled, a smile creeping over his sharp features. "If you value your wing, you will notice that the smallest movement on your part will force my blade to tear through." He laughed bitterly. He made sure to stand out of reach of a leg swipe. A small, but deadly-looking dagger dropped into his hand from a previously-unseen brace around his wrist. "Besides, I'll throw this lovely little blade straight through your throat with the flick of my wrist."

The crowd is silent, and more than one spectator has a sickly feeling in their stomachs that Speede would do just that.

Without a word, Cherry stood up quickly on her head. Speede looked at her quizzically, then laughed, thinking she was surrendering. But while he was feeling satisfied with himself, she bounced up and threw her legs around his neck and squeezed with all her might. Electricity crackled from her antennae as she twisted Speede's head around with a jerk. His vertabrae crunched like a bowl of Christmas nuts, but only enough to injure him. He let out a howl of pain as Cherry pulled out the spear form her wing, clenching her teeth.

"What's that you were saying about a blade through my throat?" she taunted humorlessly. She ignored the pain that ripped through her wing as fluid poured out of it. The pain was unbearable, but it was a risk she was willing to take. She had been through worse than this. Speede's eyes bugged out of his limp head and he fell over, still clutching the dagger. Her energy drained, Cherry collapsed and fell over him. Not a sound was heard in the arena as the spectators held their breath.

A few moments later, just as the medics, including Cella, began to rush over, Speede's red, bloody eyes flutter open. He was in agony, and couldn't move his neck, but he rolled over to his side with a pained growl anyway to look at Cherry. He groaned and sat up on his knees, fingering the dagger in one hand as he wiped his bloody nose with the other. All of a sudden, rage coursed through him, and for a moment, all pain was ignored. He raised the dagger up over his head, aiming for Cherry's heart, and just as he was going to let it fly...

Cella, the head nurse, rushed into the ring and injected him with a sedative.

The drugs, specially mixed for brutes like Speede for situations such as this, took quick effect. With a groan, Speede crumpled over and toppled to the side like a hewn tree. The dagger fell to the ground with a clatter, its point not an inch from Cherry's nose.

"Thank you, Cella..." Cherry muttered weakly before she, too, fell unconsious, but alive.