Disclaimer: I do not own Wanted or any of it's characters, only the Gymnast.

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Calibre: Chapter 2

It was a new day and there were things to be done. But there were always things to be done, and it wouldn't hurt to leave them for a few more minutes. The Gymnast sighed as she sat on the roof of the compound, watching the sun rise above the dirty skyline of the city. Music blared in her ears, and her mind was racing a million miles a minute. Reflecting mostly on her newest student.

Wesley was a sweet kid. She liked him already. Even bruised and bloodied, he was also not all that bad on the eyes. The sweat that had been clinging to his shirt only had given her an idea of what was underneath, but what had really captivated her attention were his eyes. They were the lovliest shade of green-blue, and it almost felt like she'd seen them before.

His determination was something to truly be admired. He never gave up, even when the situation looked hopeless. He kept on fighting until told to do otherwise, and even then he was always the one to deliver the last blow.

She looked down to her watch as it beeped. Five AM. She was just now supposed to be waking up, but that had been an impossibility as of late. She stood now, in the harsh orange sunlight, and dissapeared beneath the shadow of the building to the interior of her room. It looked just as it had after she cleaned it yesterday. Silently, she stepped out of the room, and made her way to Cross' room. That had been her second train of thought.

She opened the door, expecting to find an empty room. What she found, however, had been quite the opposite. Wesley stood in the room in only a pair of black sweat pants, his hair and skin wet as if he had just come out of a shower. He looked over to her, confusion quite clearly written on his face.

With a slight cough, she averted her eyes to his face instead of staring at his chisled torso. "Good morning. Any reason you're in this room?", she asked, her voice betraying her embarassment and, shamefully… her slight arousal.

Wesley blinked and looked around for a moment before looking back at her. "Yeah… this is my dad's room."

Now it was her turn to be confused, but she shook it off. "Oh. Alright. Well, come with me. We're going to get some good food in you before we start your training. You're mine today.", she finished the sentence with a wink. The young man in front of her nodded, pulling on a low-necked blue sweater and following her out. He was wondering if she was going to change before they left. What she was wearing was slightly… innappropriate for the public eye.

The Gymnast grinned, thinking the same thing. A pair of black boyshorts and a lavendar camisole was all she was wearing, with her wavy hair disarrayed by sleep and her face free of makeup. Everyone in the order had already seen her in worse condition when she was first initiated, but Wesley had been absent those four years ago.

When they came to her room, she removed a small piece of pencil lead from the hinge of the door before going in and allowing him to enter. "A security precaution. No one knows it's there, so if I come back and it's broken, I know someone's been in here."

"That's actually pretty clever.", Wesley said with a grin. Security-prone, this girl was. He followed her in and sat in a chair as she went behind a screen by her bed. "Black or white?", she asked from behind it. He could clearly hear her opening and closing drawers. "Umm… white.", he decided randomly.

"So, Wesley. What was it like before you came to the order? What did you do?"

Wesley shifted in the chair as he looked around. "I was an account manager for a big banking company. Cubicle, nine to five, horrible boss. Only good thing was that I got to work with my best friend."

"Well, at least that's a plus, right?"

"Not really, seeing as how he was banging my girlfriend."

The Gymnast shook her head, slipping on a pair of white shorts. "People suck. I hope you dumped both of them."

"Really had no choice when I came here. But what about you? How long ago did you come in?", he asked, turning his attention to a picture on her desk, a picture of her and Cross on the train he so often was dragged on by Fox.

She paused, licking her lips and exhaling. "I was a backup dancer for a friend of mine's band. She had a lot of talent, but the record label went to her head. She changed into a different person, a diva. So I said my goodbyes and moved to the city, looking to start over. I had a job at the local gymnastics studio making just enough to get by. An incident occurred in a back alley, and that's when Fox found me and brought me in. I went through the same training you did, and a little more that I had assigned myself. So usually when it comes to up-close and personal jobs, they come to me. I was on assignment in Cancun when I get the message: Get your ass back up here, we have a student for you."

Wesley smiled slightly, and was tempted to ask what the incident that brought her here was, but he was unable because that's when she came out from behind the screen.

The white shorts she had on were only slightly better than the underwear she'd been in earlier, and it revealed that her legs were just as tan as her face. One of the advantages of getting assigned to Cancun. The lower section of her abdomen showed in a white short-sleeved hoodie, and he could see the pink camisole peeking out from the edges of the hoodie. She'd thrown her hair up into a ponytail and put on a little eyeliner, but that was it. Pink and cork wedges adorned her feet, revealing the anklet tattoo she had on her right ankle. The charm was a small rose in front of a cross.

"So. Let's go get some food. The food here sucks. But, odd question, do you know your ex's usual route to work or whatever she does on Friday?"

Wesley blinked, nodding slightly. "Y-yeah… why?"

She just grinned, putting on a pair of rimless D&G sunglasses. "You'll see. What kind of car do you like? Dodge, Chevy, vintage or new, that sort of thing."

The young man smiled slightly, thinking of the Viper that Fox had brought him in. "Definitely those new Camaros. They look really good."

"Specific color?", she asked, pulling him to his feet. He thought for a moment, then his smile spread. "Green. Poison Green."

The Gymnast smiled broadly, looking at her watch. 5:45 with a half hour walk into the city. She chuckled, and offered her hand to him. "Let's go get a Camaro then."

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