"So, Amanda?" Francine's sing-song voice could be heard throughout the women's locker room within the Agency.
Amanda rolled her eyes as she turned toward her locker to stuff her heels onto the bottom shelf before turning back toward her friend and replying, "Hi, Francine. What can I do for you?" Amanda could tell by the other woman's tone, she was not going to like whatever she had to say. There had always been an underlying friction between the two of them even from their first introduction. Sure, it had lessened over the last year, but anytime an opportunity presented itself to tease Amanda, the blonde tended to jump at it.
"I remembered Billy mentioning yesterday that you had your firearms final this morning. How bad was it?" Francine's feigned look of pity was nearly Amanda's undoing, but before she had a chance to respond, Francine rushed on. "I mean, will he let you take it again once you've had more practice?"
Amanda groaned inwardly. Why would she assume she hadn't passed? Was it so hard to believe that she was capable of passing a firearms test? "Sorry, Francine. I need to get in there for my defense class exam. I'll have to catch you later." She snatched up her gloves and jogged to the gym.
"Alright, Everyone. Line up with your sparring partner, please. It's time for your final exam," the instructor read from his clipboard and then called out to Amanda. "King, agent candidate Martin has been DQ'd, so you'll need to work with a substitute for today's final. I've asked another agent to help us out."
Amanda groaned at the idea of working with someone new but smiled and nodded her understanding before stretching first one arm and then the other across her chest. She hoped that Martin was okay. Did he drop out or had he not done well on his other exams?
"Won't this be fun, Amanda?" came the familiar voice from behind her.
Amanda squeezed her eyes shut and grimaced before schooling her features in a nonchalant manner and turned toward Francine.
"Lucky, you got me instead of Fielder, eh?" The blonde grinned broadly.
"Yes, lucky, lucky me," she mumbled under her breath.
"Okay, people. Let's go. Begin your warm ups."
"Don't worry, Amanda. I'll take it easy on you," Francine called out condescendingly.
Amanda rolled her eyes as she picked up her gloves, pulling the first on and then using her teeth to pull the second in place. "Francine, I'm perfectly capable . . ."
"Agent Candidate, King?" He stared expectantly as the whistle hovered above his lips. "Less talking and more stretching."
"Yes, Sir." She finished her stretches and then called to the other woman. "Let's go, Francine. I don't want to get yelled at again."
They tapped their gloves and immediately their feet began dancing inside the small circle on the mat below them. "How'd you get Billy to agree to put you through this advanced program anyway? I mean, your scores at Station One were less than stellar."
Amanda sighed, as she jabbed at her opponent with her right. "Mr. Melrose just felt it was time. Besides, Station One was a long time ago. Now come on, Francine. Come at me." Her patience was wearing thin. How was she going to pass this course if her partner wasn't even testing her abilities?
The blonde gave a few perfunctory jabs to Amanda's hands and face, but it was obvious she was holding back. Amanda gave her a few swipes to her chin and stomach. "Afraid you're going to hurt me? I'm a lot tougher than I look, Francine." A jab to her ribs. Another to the side of her head. "Come on, I know you have it in you." With every physical jab came an equally annoying verbal jab from Amanda. She could see from the look in the other woman's eyes that she was reaching her limit. Just one more . . . "Has it been that long since you've been in the field that you've forgotten how to fight, Desmond?"
That did the trick. Her normally bright blue eyes had turned rather dark. Amanda barely had time to block her as she swiped at Amanda's left temple. Next, she jabbed to her right and once again Amanda was able to block her. More determined now, the shorter woman used a spinning move to land a swift kick to Amanda's abdomen. She gulped in some air to counter the blow and came out swinging. Finally! A fair fight. Now, Amanda was even more determined to win this battle.
Pulling every technique she'd learned over the past three days in the advanced defense class and systematically remembering everything she had learned at Quantico over a decade ago, Amanda used a lethal combination of jabs, punches, and kicks to subdue her opponent. The final punch to Francine's face seemed to knock the wind out of her. Amanda hadn't meant to hit her as hard as she had and most definitely not that close to her eye. Maybe it was the adrenaline or perhaps it was the three-years' worth of snide comments that had been lobbed her way. No matter, it was all out of her system now. "Are you okay, Francine?"
"Fine. I'm fine." She shrugged off Amanda's gloved-hand from her shoulder as she quickly squinted and flexed her face.
"Nice job, Agent Candidate King. You can hit the showers. Thank you again, Agent Desmond for helping us out," the instructor called over to them.
They both nodded and ambled toward the locker room.
"Let me get you some ice for your eye. If you don't—"
"I said I'm fine, Amanda," she interrupted. "Certainly, as a fully-trained agent I can handle a few taps from a housewife." She grabbed her toiletries and towel and headed for the showers.
The slamming of the locker as the other woman stomped off made Amanda jump and she let out a deep sigh as she watched her friend go. 'Way to go, Amanda!' she scolded herself. 'You passed your exam, but now you've put a target on your back.'
SMKSMKSMKSMKSMKSMKSMKSMKSMK
"And why would I do that, Pretty Boy?" Caputo attempted to lean back in his chair but the chains clamping him to his seat prohibited him.
"I'm sure after being in this place for so long there are some . . . necessities that you miss." Lee stretched back in his seat. A subtle power play to remind the other man of the scorecard.
"I suppose you're just going to hook me up out of the goodness of your heart, right?" he scoffed.
"More like, you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours." Lee hated even being in the same room as this guy, let alone making his captivity easier. He'd tried to kill Amanda and nearly succeeded 15 years ago. No, he'd rather be doing anything besides sitting across from this punk.
"What is it that you think I know that hasn't already come to light in my trial? It's all there in the court records."
"I want to know how you recruited your underlings. Where you met them. How you brought them on board, anything and everything." The muscle in Lee's jaw strained and he inhaled noticeably as he stared at the man sitting across from him. "If any of them are still active I want to know," he added nonchalantly.
"Why are you showing up now after all these years? What could some Fed want to know that he can't read in the court transcripts?" Off Lee's uncomfortable shifting, Caputo's eyes peered across the table, trying to read what wasn't being said. "So, this is personal, huh?"
"Look, Pal! I was assigned this lame-ass assignment by my supervisor. You disobey orders one time and next thing you know, you're on their shit list." Lee grumbled. He silently cursed himself for allowing his feelings to show in front of the other man. 'Get a grip, Scarecrow!' he scolded.
"If I'm going to spill my guts, I'm 'gonna want a few things." The smug look on his face made Lee's stomach turn.
Eyeing him suspiciously, Lee replied, "I'm listening . . ."