PLEASE READ.
The events of this story have been changed dramatically. If you're reading from where you think you left off, you WILL BE CONFUSED. Please re-read to understand. I'm sorry for the inconvenience.
Even before Kingsman, school hadn't been her forté. She struggled through every maths course and fell asleep during history. It wasn't that she didn't understand the topics, it was just that they never came easy to her. More often than not, she'd spend the entire class staring out of the window, wishing to get out. Samantha had gotten used to working for the information she wanted, but it was a shocking comparison to her rank in the Kingsman academics. She'd been placed second, shortly behind a prick named Theodore Botswick. Quentin tailed at third, but it was a scramble to keep any sort of lead.
They'd been evaluated and re-evaluated a thousand times at this point, but she saw no point in complaining. Every time she reloaded a rifle or gave the correct coordinates for a city, it was milliseconds faster than the last. The spy trade came easy to her, and she wasn't going to let it go.
Agent Lancelot stood at the front of the class, hair pulled back into a neat bun and jacket cleanly pressed. The only other two women in the program had died the first night, but it was the first time in Kingsman history that three women had been chosen. After seeing Lancelot's success, other Kingsman started to seek out women to replace their male counterparts. This rise in female activity forced a separate class, occupied only by Samantha and Roxy. "...even listening?"
Samantha blinked, startled out of her trance. "Sorry, ma'am." She said, sitting up in her desk and struggling to think of what she'd been asked. Flipping through her book, she focused in on something. "...the weight for a blank rather than a live bullet is significant enough to fire without hesitation?" She looked up at her, Roxy's brow still furrowed.
The screen Roxy had been explaining contained information on the significant pressure points in the body.
Letting out a shallow breath, Sam took a moment. Rocky rolled over next to her feet, his eyes turned to her as if teasing her mistake. "Fuck." She said with a sigh, opening a clean page in her notes. Her focus had been trained outside of the windows, staring absently at the lush green farm that surrounded the building. "Sorry. Won't happen again." Lancelot made an amazing teacher, but was clearly meant to be feared by all the candidates. Rules were rules, and her lapse in focus might have gotten her in trouble.
Roxy had followed her gaze out the window, the furrow in her brows relaxing. "I think it might be time for a break." When Sam's shoulders straightened defensively, she cut her off. "We've been here for three hours longer than the other candidates. Consider yourself schooled for the day." Shuffling through a few loose papers on the table in front of her, she handed one to Samantha. "Your assignment-turn it into me tomorrow with the proper location markers."
With that, she was dismissed. She'd done a similar assignment to this with the rest of the candidates a matter of weeks ago, so there wasn't much to be said about it. A simple task; trek to the coordinates on the sheet and send out a marker. The only bit that made it actual work was that no candidate had the same coordinates and they were spread a good few kilometers from each other. Suited and ready for a rigorous hike, she began her trek.
Her eyes followed the compass as she jogged, Rocky galloping next to her. It'd been nearly a month and a half since she'd gotten him, and already he was matching pace with her. He didn't stumble around as much, either. Now he walked with the grace of a growing dog, feet becoming more stable and sure of themselves. Sam was also experiencing a transformation, one she hadn't seen in awhile.
Muscle tone was visibly developing on her legs once more, the strength in her core had returned, and she found that her lungs had grown used to running. Their early morning run had become less of a challenge for all the candidates, and Merlin had commented that they were all starting to look like Kingsman. She'd been a bit proud of that one.
She was coming up on her first coordinate now, having hiked up a rather steep hillside to see the small flag come into view. It was simply bright orange, but if you looked closely enough you could find the Kingsman logo. Tapping one of the buttons on her wristwatch, a small noise let her know that the signal had been sent. It was beautiful, the scene before her. The English countryside had always been beautiful, even though she had grown up in it. Far off in the distance, she could see a small fence of what was either goats or sheep. She made a mental note to ask if they were Merlin's. Turning away, she set off to her next coordinate, thankfully much closer to base than her last one had been.
After she had been released from the hospital, Samantha had found comfort in running. The sting of her lungs and the sweat on her brow was almost comforting. It gave her time to completely clear her mind from any pain or thoughts that swam through her head. Her brother once joked that running was the most used drug for PTSD survivors. He had no idea how true it was.
It wasn't that she was running away from her problems, in any sort. She faced them head on, nearly dared them to fuck with her. Samantha had shaken depression, but remained plagued with PTSD. Her therapist during her stay told her that it'd probably never go away, but over time it'd become more manageable. Her fears would always surface at inconvenient times, and she'd be left to panic and struggle through whatever attack on her mind occurred. Dr. Navari was correct, however, in saying that she could grow accustomed to it. She knew when the panic would near and what to stay far, far away from. Coping became her life, and running helped all of it.
The male candidates had been dismissed from their morning lessons after lunch, shipped off to the shooting range for target practice. Quentin's one downfall (and her advantage) was that he couldn't shoot for his life. Of course, he could hit a still target ten out of ten, but as soon as you added movement, it went to three out of ten. She was running past them now, all on their stomachs as they trained with rifles. Lined targets stood at the other end of the field, each marked with the golden emblem of Kingsman and-
A gunshot cracked off near her, and she felt the leash attached to Rocky go slack. The black leather had been shot in half, dangling loosely from her hand. Samantha's head snapped towards the cluster of men, her eyes following Theodore's movements as he laughed and nudged the man next to him. "Sorry, love!" He yelled, barely containing himself. "I missed!"
Her blood turned into fire. One of the other candidates turned to Theodore and joined his laughter, and she was nearly convinced that fighting either of them was worth getting kicked out. She was seething by the time she was a few meters in front of him, his cocky smirk plastered on his face even as she shoved him as hard as he could. "What the fuck, Theodore?" She snapped, practically feeling steam pour out of her ears.
He shrugged nonchalantly, the other candidates standing for the argument. "Can't blame me for trying to take out the competition." Theodore nodded behind the two of them, every other candidate looking away as to not receive the wrath of either. "Face it, love. This isn't a place for a woman, and a crippled one at that."
Sam opened her mouth to retort, but was cut off by the agent observing the exercise. "What's going on here?" He asked in a stern voice, clearly annoyed by the arguing.
"This fucking prick just tried to shoot me!" Samantha snarled, staring angrily up at Theodore to show that she wouldn't back down. She hasn't even glanced at who the agent was. It could be Merlin, for all she cared. Theodore was going to get what he fucking deserved, so help her Christ. The agent switched his attention to Theo, who shrugged nonchalantly in response.
"I was really aiming for the dog, but I'd only be doing you a favor if-" Before he could finish his sentence, Samantha swung her arm back and landed a solid punch against his nose. The bones broke beneath her fist, sending Theodore back onto his ass. There was a moment of shocked silence as everyone struggled to grasp at what happened, Theodore pulling his hand away to show a fountain of blood. "You… fucking bitch!"
Theodore lunged for Samantha, tackling her to the ground and pinning her legs. Immediately everyone was involved in the fight, attempting to pull Rocky and Samantha off of Theodore and Theodore off of Samantha. Eventually Quentin was able to grab hold of Sam and pull the two apart, but both came away bloodied and bruised. It didn't take long before the crowd of arguing people stood in front of Merlin, everyone shouting their stories at him at once.
"Enough!" Merlin yelled, silence falling across the room as they were all given a stern eye. "As far as I'm concerned, neither of you have acted like a true Kingsman and should be dismissed immediately." Samantha felt her stomach drop to her toes. "Tristan. You led the exercise, explain what the hell is going on here."
The agent, confirmed as Tristan, continued to cast an angry eye over the two in question. Theodore's nose was still bleeding, but it was caked with dried blood that stopped most of it. "After a misfire from Theodore-"
"A fucking misfire?" A stern look cut Samantha off, and she sat back in her chair, sulking.
"...after a misfire, Samantha came over and started an altercation with Theodore. I intervened shortly after, but Theodore did admit to attempting to shoot her dog. Samantha was the first one to throw a punch." Agent Tristan finished, standing next to Merlin as he explained. Sam fought the urge to burst out again and explain herself, but the look she was getting from Merlin told her that was the last thing she should do right now.
There was a solid reason that fighting wasn't allowed inside of training. A candidate's well being relied on his companions at all times. Usually, if something went wrong for one of them, then something went wrong for all. They were trained to create the hive mentality, work together but be able to function alone. Any Kingsman agent had to be proved reliable before they were ever sworn in. Fighting showed weakness and inability to compromise, and could screw their ranks over for good.
It felt like her heart was going to explode. Blood rushed through her body and she could hear the drumline of her heart inside of her ears. She took a few breaths to calm herself, shaking when Merlin reached a verdict. He had turned from them in his deliberations, brow furrowed and anger clearly written over his features. He could barely believe he was doing this. "Samantha, go and get cleaned up. Theodore, expect a decision in the next hour; I'll make contact with your mentor so that he can decide your fate." His eyes followed the reactions of the two, relief spreading through Sam like a disease.
If it had been any other two candidates, he would have given them the boot the second they stepped into his office. There was something about the two of them-something eerily perfect for a Kingsman agent. They were both ranked at the top of their class, dedicated and sporting a militaristic background. The agent who replaced the fallen Bedivere needed to possess all of these traits, and more. Merlin had secretly hoped Quentin Wickham would be the chosen agent. "If either of you ever cause a problem again, know your fate. Dismissed."
Both stood begrudgingly and saluted, heading towards the direction of the medbay to check on their wounds. Samantha walked with a slight limp from being tackled to the ground, but she felt as if she was walking on air. Theodore's nose had started bleeding once more from the stress of it all. Exiting the door and Merlin's line of sight, Samantha felt the breath leave her as she was slammed against a wall and a hand wrapped around her throat. "If you ever fuck with my chances again…" Theodore breathed lowly, face only inches from her own and fire behind his eyes. Her eyes refused to leave his own in a challenge, even as his grip tightened around her neck. "There won't be enough left of you to find."
Standing her ground as he shoved her away and took off in the direction of the medbay, her hand reached up to touch what would surely be a line of bruises. Samantha knew better than to say anything else on the matter. Theodore turned a corner and she cursed his name, but settled on cleaning her own wounds. The further away she could get from that prick, the better.
Shouldering open the door to the barracks, the room grew quiet as she entered. The clock on the wall told her that they would have just gotten back from dinner, all uncomfortably watching her as she walked over to her cot and began digging through her small trunk of things. After a few seconds of digging, she pulled a roll of gauze out and looked up, all eyes trained on her. She stood, eyes darting to each of the men before her. "What? Anyone else got something they wanna fucking say?" Samantha growled, watching as they all attempted to continue their conversations awkwardly. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she gripped the cotton between her teeth for a moment as she tried to awkwardly wrap with her stump of an arm, pushing it along and hoping for the best.
"For fuckssake, Sam." Quentin's shoes appeared before the rest of him, taking over her project with gentle hands and a soft tone in his voice. Normally, she'd reject the help and assure that she could survive just fine on her own. However, her job of wrapping had been absolute shit and she could use the help. She muttered a word of thanks, eyes glued to the tile floor. There was a moment's pause before Quentin made another attempt at conversation. "That might have been the meanest right hook I've ever seen."
Samantha snorted, but the ache in her hand proved it. "Thanks." She said, sincerely this time. "Always helps when the receiver's face is especially punchable."
"Remind me to never make you mad, then."
"Stay away from my dog and we're good."
Quentin glanced at the foot of her bed, where Rocky lay on guard. Thing was going to be fucking huge. "Deal."