Alternate Existence

She was just sixteen. She never wanted this. She never wanted any of it. She didn't want to be an agent. She didn't want to even learn to fight. And most of all, she didn't want to learn her mother was a foreign spy.

Chapter 4: Go Rogue or Turn Double

Princess Box: According to , spelt is cheifly a British thing and more of a pronunciation than a spelling. Spelled, however, bring up actual definitions. Yes, this is sad. My best friend and I actually spent about two months one year trying to convince our teacher that stupider is a word, hence more stupid is incorrect grammer! lol. Hope you enjoy the rest of the fic, and I'll let this alone if you will!

Denosivich waited for Lina in the same training room they'd used the day before. He wanted to meet her the second she walked in the bank doors, to protect her from these people, but he knew by now what Khasinau wanted. He wanted to see if prospective agents could take the initiative and find their way to the training area on their own.

So he waited. He broke into a wide grin when Lina walked in, clearly irritated and only ten minutes late. It took most agents fifteen.

"Sorry I'm late," she spit out fiercely. "But I had to navigate this maze alone, when I had very little clue where I was at."

"I do that to everyone," he said. "You made good time."

"Gee, thanks," she snarled.

Yep, this one had her mother's spirit, just as Khasinau said. He just hoped he could turn the direction of that spirit a little bit.

"You bring gym clothes?" he asked. "You can't keep doing this in jeans."

"I'm wearing them," she snapped, pulling off the sweatshirt. Then she slipped out of the jeans and turned to fold the clothes.

That's when Denosivich noticed the ugly bruises on her back. Her blue top reveal pretty clearly the extent of the damage. Yet she had shown up. He had to admire that.

He moved toward her, then gently clasped her arm to keep her from bolting.

"Your back looks awful," he said quietly. "I did that, didn't I."

Sydney froze when she felt his hand, and she didn't answer readily.

"Yes," she said finally. "But it's okay. It doesn't hurt much. I'm fine."

"It looks like it hurts," Denosivich said, guilt still heavy in his tone. HE hadn't meant to do any damage yesterday, just to show her who was in charge.

Sydney turned and smiled.

"Really, I'm okay." She pulled away. "Can we just get started? I want to get out of here as quick as I can. This place is creepy."

"Sure," Denosivich said. At least Lina didn't seem to be very gung-ho about this whole spy thing. May be he could still save her. "Take up your stance," he ordered, moving to the middle of the room.

Sydney did so nearly automatically. Denosivich landed a solid kick to her stomach, and she fell hard. Her back and shoulders felt like fire as she landed and tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back mercilessly. After a moment, her vision cleared and she saw the hand Denosivich offered. She grasped in and he pulled her to her feet.

"What did you do wrong?"

"What…you knocked me off-balance!" she protested.

"Exactly."

"Huh?"

"You let me get you off-balance. Never do that. That's rule number one. As long as you've got your balance, no matter how big your disadvantage, you have a chance. Take up your stance again."

Sydney did, and she knew Denosivich caught the wary gaze she threw his way.

"Move your left foot farther behind you. As long as I'm your only opponent, brace yourself against me." Denosivich demonstrated the correct stance, and she complied. "Now, get ready."

He launched a kick that connected before she could dodge, but she didn't fall this time. Instead, she countered unexpectedly, moving in close and drop-sweeping Denosivich's back foot out from under him--the foot all his weight rested on in his stance.

Denosivich regained his feet irritably.

"I didn't tell you to counter," he complained.

"So I'm just supposed to let you hit me?" she asked, one eyebrow raised. "Besides," She added, "I just proved the fault in your stance."

"I told you, I didn't expect you to counter," he repeated. Then he shook his head. "You're the daughter of a very prominent agent," he said angrily. "You could easily become a target now. You're here to learn to fight, not to fight me." He paced a few yards away, then sighed and spun back to face her. "Enough. We won't get anywhere with this." He walked to a corner and dragged out a stack of vault mats, like gymnasts practice with. Stacked three high, Denosivich turned back. "You'll kick this, not me," he asserted, giving her a look. "Besides," he mocked. "Here I am taking it easy on a rookie, and you're taking advantage."

She just shrugged sheepishly.

"Sorry."

"I'm going to test you in hand to hand with Anna," he muttered. "Two weeks, tops, and you'll be up to her."

"Who's Anna?" Sydney asked.

"My other trainee," he replied. "She's eighteen, been doing defense training for six months."

"Six months?!?"

"You're a natural, she's not," he said dismissively. "You're quick, and you already have the basics. They just need some fine-tuning. You'll be ready."

"How can you be so sure?"

"You're a hellcat. She's a fireball. You two should be evenly matched," he laughed.

Anna Espinosa was the daughter of a Russian agent, too, just as was Lina. But Anna had come of her own free will, and knew exactly what she was doing. Denosivich didn't like Anna. But Lina had an air of innocence. Lina could still be an asset to her country, if he could help her. Oh, yeah, he saw the irony of matching Lina against Anna.

By the time Sydney got home that night, it was already dark. She got out of the city bus and jogged the last block home, then ran up the stairs.

Her mother was home, finally. Sydney barely looked at her when she welcomed her home. She dropped her keys on the table by the door and angled her path toward the bathroom to take a shower. Something tugged at her subconscious, but she ignored it. She was beat; the only reason she'd run home was that she was sure she'd have fallen asleep walking.

She detoured momentarily to her room to get her nightshirt, and her gaze drifted up to where the camera should have been.

It was gone. All fatigue disappeared, replaced by near panic. The tape was gone, the ceiling looked as if it had never been touched. Moving silently, she checked the hall. The camera over her door was gone, too. She peeked into the entryway. Nothing there, either. And no roll of duct tape on the table.

Sydney retreated to her room and sat on the edge of the bed. Had she dreamed it? There was no trace now.

She shook her head. No, the cameras had been there. Someone had removed them. Probably because they realized they'd been disabled. So they'd been replaced, not removed.

She looked around carefully, trying to identify any changed element. A hairclip she'd left on her bookcase was moved down a shelf. A tiny glass rose had been moved from in front of her black engraved picture frame. The frame had been angled differently.

That had to be it. The gracefully embossed metal frame was ornate; it would be the perfect place to hide a camera.

She rose and picked up the frame, going over every inch of the design. In one corner, there was a miniscule inconsistency. That had to be a camera. But if she covered it, they'd know she knew. She grinned.

Sydney set the frame back on the shelf, intentionally angling it so that the bastards watching her couldn't see her door or her bed. If they wanted to try to watch her every move, she could sure give them hell. It was like Khasinau thought she'd go rogue or something. May be he was. But then, why?

Defiantly now, Sydney snatched her nightshirt out of her drawer and went to take a shower.

This was getting ridiculous.

Khasinau frowned. It had amused him at first, these games, but Irina's daughter was beginning to get on his nerves. He'd had to deploy an agent that afternoon to replace the camera the girl had discovered. Now, consciously or not, she had found and made useless the camera in her room again.

Khasinau doubted she had done so knowingly. The girl had only recently been introduced to spying at all. There was no way she had that much natural awareness.

He had been surprised by her simple unquestioning obedience. Sure, she didn't know what they were yet. But she'd just conformed.

Denosivich said she was a natural fighter. He'd cleared it to pit her against his Russian trainee, Anna Espinosa. Espinosa had been with them for a little over a year, but she'd had to be cleared first. By the time Angelina knew she was the daughter of a spy, she'd been cleared for six years.

Well, they could do without the one camera for now. There were five others in the apartment. Hopefully darling little Angelina wouldn't luck into any of those.

Denosivich wrote feverishly. He only had a few minutes; he couldn't be seen. He had a total of a five-minute window.

Lina is progressing well. If she becomes a target I'm convinced she can at very least give them hell. I can't believe she knows what she's getting into. I'm inclined to do everything I can to get her out of the life before she gets far into it. I realize she could, if properly coached, turn double, but she'd only sixteen. There's no reason to shape her life for her like that. --Mockingbird 1132984

Denosivich crumpled the bag up and punched buttons on his cell phone simultaneously. Location 4. Then he ducked back into the bank before anyone realized he was gone.

What do you think? Where do you think this is going? I just want to see if my planned plot twist is as much of a twist as I think it is…if anybody really guesses it, I'll have to change it, just to be contrary!