Chapter 7
Grant's POV
"You're good."
I comment as I watch Bex punch the battered bag repeatedly and then deliver a solid roundhouse kick. She grunts in return and then gives me a genuine smile. Our relationship has greatly improved if I may say so myself. About two hours ago, we were bad.
There are three things that I have learnt about Rebecca Charlotte Baxter since meeting her.
Number one: Joe was right.
I made the mistake of calling her Rebecca earlier when we were practising her punches. She stopped suddenly and whipped her head around so that her grey eyes were able to fix me with a glare that held promise of a slow and painful death. Then she launched at me like a cat: the momentum barrelling me down to the floor. I caged her in my arms as I fell and I landed on my back with a thud, pushing the air out of my lungs. Trust me to land on a part of the gym that isn't covered by foamy mats. Straddled on my waist, she started to rain down punches on my body: punches that I had taught her to perfect. I recognised the irony. I let her have her fun whilst I shielded my face with my arms held up. She needed to learn to take advantage of a fight, so I let her continually attack me. It wasn't like she was causing me any grievous a while, I had expected her to give up, but she didn't.
That's when I learnt the second thing about Bex. She is the most stubborn girl I have ever had the misfortune to meet.
I gathered her arms up with my hands, catching her flailing fists. I sat up so that I came face to face with her. I could feel her hot breath on my cheek, and the tendrils of her damp hair tickling my cheek. I watched with intent, as she furiously tried to pull out my grip, cute little noises of frustration escaping her mouth. Her grey eyes glinted madly, the fluorescent lights above us reflected in her deep gaze. We stared at each other for a second, the tension so smothering I had to break her gaze. I had never felt that way before. Her eyes locked me in place and I could feel the intensity of her look, I swear I got goose bumps from it. I looked down her jawline, following the smooth line hidden beneath the tanned skin. Her jaw was clenched so tight. I allowed a small victory smile to grace my face because firstly, I had trapped Bex in my arms successfully, and secondly, she was sitting in my lap, her face so close to me that our noses were just touching.
"Never call me that. You'll regret it." She growled this and I couldn't help but recognise the creases in the middle of her forehead that appear when her eyes squint at me.
I laughed easily at her threat, "don't think you are in the position to be calling the shots here Bex." Her eyes narrowed further to slits, and I replicated her gaze.
"Do you want me to threaten you? Please give me a reason because I'd like nothing more than to introduce your nose to my fist." God, even when she's threatening me, she's captivating.
Number three: Rebecca Baxter is so goddamn beautiful.
"Call this working out?"
I immediately snapped out of my thoughts and leapt back, pushing Bex off my lap. I looked up to see Joe standing in the doorway, his arms crossed and a look of amusement dancing across his features.
"I was counting on you setting the standard around here," he said. I raised my eyebrows in question. "Macey and Preston started fighting straightaway. Their personalities are too similar, but who else can handle Miss McHenry?" I heard Bex snort to my left.
"Liz and Jonas are getting along well. I think. They immediately hit it off because they were suddenly sprouting computing science technical words left right and centre. I studied chemistry. I haven't got any chance at understanding them. And Zach and Cammie. Well."
I nodded my head; I had already witnessed the dynamic between those two at the school. And Zach is an asshole; he has been ever since he ranked first in Academy and found out that he was better than everybody else. He's not a people's person, never has been. But us boys have grown up together, worked together, fought together. Our bond is stronger than a friendship and so we can handle Zach, we have learned to. However, when Zach meets new people, he pushes them away with his cocky I-know-I'm-the-best attitude.
"I gave you Miss Baxter because she is easy and you can make her the best. So make her the best. And people don't become the best by lying on top of each other in the gym." I felt heat rise to my cheeks at his subtle accusation and immediately adopted a professional stance.
"Yes sir." I grunted out. Joe nodded and shot me a quick smile before turning on his heel and walked straight out of the room.
"Who is he?" I turned around to see Bex beside the punching bag, her fists raised to her face.
"Joe?" I walked over to the bag and leant against the other side so that it doesn't swing as she punches.
"Yeah," she breathed out as her punches resume again, her feet dancing around, hopping from one to the other to keep bouncy like I taught her too.
"He's the Director of the CIA. And like a surrogate big brother to us all." I could feel her gaze prompting me to explain further. "He was our trainer at the Academy before we became full on agents. He was there when we broke bones, failed our missions, needed help studying language exams, everything." I shrugged, "then he became the Director and now is like our own supervisor. He's a good man. And if he wants you girls to become agents, then he obviously saw something in you. Potential. And it's my job to make sure you utilise that to your maximum so that you can be the best you can be."
"Oh."
Her answering smile was bright and her face lit up. She looks cute when she is smiling truly. She gets these dimples in the creases of her cheeks that are adorable. "Okay then. Let's do this. Teach me. I wanna be the best." I smiled in return.
"First of all, we need to build up your strength and stamina. You have the technique." I walked round to her and wrapped her my hand around her bicep lightly. "Definitely not strong enough. God, you're arms are like chicken legs, they're so thin!" She jerked her arm out of my grasp in exasperation and frowned.
"How do I get stronger?"
"Gym, Becca." The word was out of my mouth before I could even think about it. I like Bex, but Becca seems to suit her better. I anticipated her outrage, and I brace myself for attack. I watched as her brows furrowed and her step faltered. Her grey eyes locked onto mine and I gave her a small hopeful smile.
"You ok with Becca?" She fell into step with me, our arms barely touching.
She looked up at me and returned my smile, "yeah. Becca's good."
Cammie's POV
"Shoot!"
My finger pulls the trigger, my body tensed in anticipation for the gun's kickback. I take the force and grunt as I am launched backwards in air. I drop the gun as I flail my arms, attempting to gain balance, but I before I land on the cold hard ground, I find myself wrapped up in iron arms. I look upwards towards Zach's face, which is melted into a frown directed straight at me. With a jerk, he pushes me out of his arms suddenly, and once again I find myself falling backwards. Zach's hand shoots out and wraps around my forearm, gripping tight, and pulls me to a vertical position once more.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Zach asks; his tone is dripping with venom.
God. What the hell am I doing here? I struggle to stand upright, but with his arms steadying me I find my balance. I pull my arms out of his grasp and massage my upper forearms where his grip happened to be a bit too tight. Bruises tomorrow. Fantastic. I feel so useless. What am I doing here? I walk backwards, my eyes downcast until I feel the wooden chair hit the backs of my legs. I collapse into it and bring my knees up, wrapping them in my embrace as I bury my head. I'm done. I want to go home, back to my safe haven with John and Jane and little Dylan. I hear Zach grunt nearby in exasperation. Guess the two of us are both feeling like shit now.
Lifting my head up, I watch Zach crouch low behind cement blockade, his handgun held pointing up against his chest. The pungent scents of sweat and gunpowder hang heavy in the air as he inches closer to the edge of the barrier, his head cocked to one side, listening for the slightest movement. Once satisfied there is none, he pivots around and shoots to his feet, his weapon raised and pointed out in front of him. A wooden human-shaped target pops up from behind another structure. Zach squeezes the trigger, letting off several rounds and riddling the dummy with bullets before it even straightened into its final position. The sound of bullets echo around the metal encased room and it is only then I acknowledge Preston standing several feet away from me, leaning against the wall.
"Why do you always have to be the first to shoot and show off? Can't you ever give anyone else a chance? Like your trainee maybe?"
"And, why would I do that huh?" Zach challenges whilst glancing over to me, poison dripping from the look of contempt he gives to me.
I stay quiet in the shadows. I'm too mentally and physically drained to fight. I have only been going at this for a couple of hours, but the constant bickering and sniping has just been too much. I can handle it, but not when Zach is physically pushing me to my limits. My limbs are aching, head is pounding, and I just want to go home. They have overestimated me.
"Where's your trainee you hypocrite?"
"She's with Joe, he wants us all. But seriously man, she's your trainee for a reason."
"She is slower than a dying snail. She hesitates. She can't balance herself; she cannot do anything. She has no foundation for me to work upon and look," he gestures over to me, "she's given up!"
I don't even have the energy to argue. Preston looks over to me and rolls his eyes in exasperation. I give him a small smile in return, it's all I can manage.
I watch as Zach smirks and saunters over to the dummy to inspect the damage he has caused. Two to the heart and one of the head. All three are kill shots. A satisfied smirk plays upon his lips as he turns from the target.
"Look at this perfection. It's better than yours Pres!"
"Is it necessary for you to be a huge bag of douche at all times?" I quip up in frustration, finally having enough. Preston lets out a warm hearty laugh before he is stopped short by a glare from Zach. He focuses his green eyes on mine as he slowly saunters over to me. He leans over me, his height allowing him to tower above, and I jut out my chin in defiance so that our noses are so close to touching. He flashes his teeth, just like a shark would before preying on its innocent prey.
"Ouch," he whispers as his eyes follow the line of my jaw, "straight to the ego."
"It's not that hard to miss," I whisper back.
His green eyes glint mischievously and I take pride that I have at least attempted a hit at his ego. He's so obnoxious. I don't know who his parents are, but they made a huge mistake when raising him up. Zach's the type of boy who plays with your emotions so that he can get a kick out of it. He doesn't care about anybody, at least, that is the way he acts. I guess deep down there's a glimmer of hope, there always is with somebody no matter how vile he or she may be. But, with Zach, my god, that light is buried so deep beneath his fading conscience that if he doesn't stop being an emotionless cruel wreck, well, that light might just disappear. Why did I get stuck with him? Him of all people? I have had enough in my life. I have had enough miserable occurrences for at least one good thing to happen. To be honest, whilst punching the bag and dripping in sweat earlier, I warmed up to the idea of training to be an agent. I guess every young child dreams once of being a secret agent, saving the nation with a backdrop of explosions behind you. Those dreams never come true for the average kid, and I guess this is my chance to live it. Also, who wouldn't want to know how to shoot and gun and save the country? I might even get to meet the President. But, as much as I like the idea, the whole CIA thing is creeping me out. Today, I have been manhandled by this so-called organisation of protection. And I am stuck with this big-headed egotistical jerk who thinks that he is God's gift to the world. I meet his green eyes and mentally prepare myself for his comeback, because guys like Zach always have comebacks because they have an incessant need to put people down. He blows out his breath so that it fans in my face.
"You're feisty Blondie." He shoves the gun roughly into my chest, "now shut up and shoot."
"You are being briefed now. I know that you have just initiated your status as trainees, but we need this mission to go into the workings as soon as possible to minimise the danger in which our target is in."
I glance up at Joe to see his eyes raking across the four of us, searching us for any detail that we give up. I'm not ready for this. Looking around I see Bex seated next to Grant, and she is beaming. Bex was made for this; it's in her blood. Her parents are spies for god's sake! My parents are buried 6 feet underground. My mum was a kindergarten teacher and my dad was a doctor. My foster mum is a journalist and my foster dad is a project manager. No genes or influences there that will help me protect a target we don't even know the identity of.
"The Chameleon is a top-secret target who has fallen under our radar. She is the best pavement artist we have and yet she is being targeted: by the Circle of Cavan. All we need you to do is keep an eye out for any suspicious activity surrounding one individual. Check out the teachers, staff, and pupils, anyone who seems sceptical. We need the Chameleon. So get her."
"Do we not have any information on this woman?" Macey asks inquisitively.
"We?" I ask incredulously. "Macey, it is not we. It's them and us. It has been less than 24 hours since we have been kidnapped, drugged and held hostage by these so-called protectors of our state. You might be happy to work with these lunatics and think of yourself as one of them, but I'm sure as hell not."
"Thank God." I whirl my head around to face off the offending person who had muttered behind my back.
"You know what Newbie, bite me."
"Oh, you wish I would Blondie."
"Enough. Cammie, I appreciate and understand your reasons for your feelings of contempt, but please try to understand that we are on your side."
Right. Like hell you are.
"You will return to school in three days. The principal has been alerted to your absence, it is due to virus that is circulating the school. You will continue your training in the meantime. Everyday you will report here at 7 in the morning, and you will be dismissed at 6. At the end of the training, before you go back to school and start the mission, there will be a test to see if you are able to handle what challenges will be placed before you. Nothing to worry about though."
I look around and see the boys fist pumping. I'm guessing they will get a kick out of seeing us fail.
"To your parents, you will continue the image of an ordinary school day, we will stick to the timings and will aim to intercept all forms of communication between the school and your parents."
Ok. That's one thing Joe and the flipping CIA is doing right. I don't want John and Jane to worry about me, I don't live a day without thinking of myself as a burden to them, adding stress and anxiety onto that would just make me feel even worse than I occasionally do.
"When you arrive in school, you will keep on lookout. Gather information. Make friends. Snoop around. Agents, use your psychology training to help you discern people who are hiding secrets. Trainees," Joe hesitates, "make friends. We need you to be four extra pairs of eyes on the matter."
I scoff. That is all we are good for apparently.
"Remember, you are better than the Chameleon. She won't be that good, she hasn't been trained. She just has the potential and talent to be the best, and because she has good contacts and help, she has been able to stay under the radar. You can take her. You can, because you have the training. So do it. Find the Chameleon before the Circle of Cavan does."
Great, looks like he has finished. I raise my hand, "can I go home now?" I ask as politely as I can, because right now I'm aching everywhere and I just need to get out. That speech just reinforced my fears.
My feet hurt from bouncing up and down when boxing, skipping and just being on my feet all day. My head hurts from the lashings I receive from Zach, and the constant instructions being bounced around my head like a boomerang. I'm trying to remember everything because I know one day I will need all this information: like how to assemble a simple handgun, or which way to throw a punch. It's like a hyperactive child has ran through my brain with a crayon, painting and marking my brain with commands and instructions in a jumbled heap of words and numbers. I sigh. It's too much. We get the go ahead from Joe who nods his approval, and I rush out of the door. I don't bother waiting for the girls. I know, it's bad of me, but right now all I need is to curl up in my bed after taking a long hot shower. I'm sure the others did brilliantly in their training and have the natural talent that I just don't possess. And I should be happy for them and go to them and listen to how their day went, but right now I cannot bear to be put down now, to be shown how bad I am in comparison to their greatness. Exiting the grand room that serves as Joe's office I turn left and start making my way down the cold corridor. I duck my head so that I avoid the stares of people who question my place in this place.
I'm right with you people, what am I doing here?
A/N: Wow. I am so sorry for the late update, but thank you so much for staying with me! Bit of a filler chapter, next one will be more interesting . Please review, tell me what you think about this new vulnerable side of Cammie! Reviews and PM's are welcome!
