The past few weeks had passed by as if they were almost nothing. If Samantha hadn't lived them, she wasn't sure that she would have believed that it even happened.
Kingsman training had kicked into third gear now that it was only her and Theodore left, Merlin seemingly pleased with how exhausted they were at the end of every day. They'd taken driving lessons, learned how to hold their breath for upwards of three minutes, even gone so far as to learn how to suture stab wounds in the field. The care he had shown her as her mentor was gone for the moment, but she wouldn't take it personally. He was just doing his job.
The hand that he'd made for her remained in the candidate barracks for as long as she could manage-she didn't want to come to rely on something that she didn't even want in the first place. Merlin had continued to attempt to sway her opinion of the aide, but she was having none of it. Her only line of logic was that if she'd survived so long without it, she'd continue to do so on her own. He wasn't pleased, of course, but she could care less. She didn't ask for the bloody thing.
To his credit, however, tricking Theodore into believing that she'd always had two hands was much more fun than she could have imagined. Gaslighting was never a practice she willingly engaged in, but watching him crumble ever so slightly was like taking a shot of ambrosia. He'd nearly gagged when she took it off the first night, as pale as a ghost when she'd flipped him off with it when it was no longer attached to her body.
All hints of kindness that she'd received from him during the previous weeks before Quentin's firing was gone. Now that it was just the two of them, all bets were off. He wanted it badly, but not nearly as much as she did. She'd stopped pulling punches in sparring classes, more than willing to physically knock him down a peg. He was stronger than she remembered, but not nearly as fast as her. The continued pattern of even fight wins was beginning to drive her mad. She wanted him to taste the sting of his own defeat, but that was proving more difficult than she had planned.
Earlier that day, Merlin had come to collect her after lunch. They were allotted a half-hour after meals every day to collect themselves and prepare for the next round of training, the time usually being spent to rub out the aches of growing bruises. She'd been on her way to take a quick shower when he'd stopped her, informing her that she'd been requested to meet with Arthur at the start of the next hour. Always willing to assume the worst, she'd stared at the thick oak door for over a minute before finally getting the courage to knock.
Arthur's voice chimes from the other side, and with a steadying breath, she pushes her way inside. He was sitting on a plush chair, idly sipping a scotch and staring down at the fireplace serenely. His eyes meet hers as she walks in, and she plasters on a charming smile, trying to hide the nerves that threaten to overturn her stomach. One-on-one with Merlin? Sure, no problem, she'd do it anytime. One-on-one with Arthur, the head of the organisation she hoped to join? Oh, fuck me. "Merlin said you wanted to see me, sir?"
"Samantha," he says politely, pointing at the chair opposite him. "Take a seat." She smiles gratefully, thankful to have a chance to hide the shake in her knees. Nervousness wasn't something that came easily to her, yet here she was, trying to discreetly wipe the sweat of her palm onto the rough fabric of her jumpsuit. Rocky trots along beside her as she takes her seat, coming to rest in front of the fireplace. Arthur makes a little amused noise as he stares down at the dog, and she wonders if she can see the hint of a smile on his face. "What a lovely dog. What have you named him?"
"Rocky, sir." Samantha states, worried that her response was too short. She adds a bit more, not wanting to seem impolite. "After Rocky Balboa."
"Ah!" He chuckles, and she feels the wave of relief that passes over her when she notices his genuine smile. For a moment, he almost reminds her of Professor Dumbeldore from the Harry Potter series. She's quite sure that if she gave him a pair of half-moon glasses, he would look like he'd stumbled out of the pages of the book. "Marvellous. I saw that film in the theatres when I was a bit older than you are now, my dear."
Pleased to have connected with him, she smiles back. "My father used to let me and my siblings watch the series with him on rainy afternoons. Always sort of stuck with me, I suppose."
"Quite so." He takes a sip of his scotch, setting it down on the side table next to him. "I must say, Miss Ackart, that I'm very pleased with the way that you've been performing during your training. Not many make it through, even less without the use of both hands." There's a part of her that wants to take this as an insult, but she won't. For now. "It's impressive."
"Thank you, sir." She says. "That means a lot."
Arthur chuckles to himself, apparently happy with himself for providing her the compliment. She watches him reach around the side of the chair, heart dropping when she notices the pistol in his hand. She'd gotten too comfortable in his praise and lost the edge she'd walked in with. She should have checked his surroundings for weapons, made sure that she was safe. For a half moment, she considers attempting to take out the elder gentleman, but he simply turns the handle around to face her. Sensing her hesitation, he waves it towards her. "Take it."
The rubber handle is cool in her palm when she takes it, the weight causing her wrist to dip a bit. This is just another test, of course, but she didn't like the direction it was heading in. Arthur leans back into his chair once more, leaning over slightly to grab his scotch. Taking a long sip, he smiles over at her. "Shoot the dog."
If it had been a terrible movie from the naughties, she imagined this was the point in which the record scratch and freeze frame showed up. Her heart skips a beat, stomach falling to her toes. The nervous sweat that had been plaguing her takes a sudden chill as she turns her gaze towards Rocky, the sweet pup staring up at her innocently.
The barrel of the gun moves towards Rocky almost without her consent, his little head tilting to the left slightly as they lock eyes. He'd been her companion, her only friend for weeks. She'd trained him, loved him, from the moment she'd taken him on. All of the tricks she'd taught him, all of the time she'd spent working with him. It was all for waste.
Merlin had told them that they weren't allowed to get attached to their dogs, and she had always wondered why he was so adamant about the fact. If she had known that this was the reason why, she imagined that she would have dropped out of training willingly.
No.
Samantha knew she wouldn't have. This job, this lifestyle; it meant everything to her. It meant the chance to finally make something of her life again, and the chance to help her family in ways that had never been possible for them. Knowing that she would have to kill Rocky from the get-go would have been a great displeasure, but she knew that she would have still continued with her training. Her finger slips closer to the trigger, wondering if she'll ever be able to forgive herself for this.
Rocky whines slightly, his tail swishing on the floor as he wonders when he would get the biscuit she promised him. She can't do it, but she also knows that there's no way that they would let her into Kingsman if she couldn't shoot a dog. If she can't kill an animal, how would she ever be expected to kill another human being? She'd done it before, of course, but this was some how so much fucking worse.
Tears slip from her eyes before she can catch them, a slow steady stream as she stares down at her beloved pet. "I'm so sorry," she whispers, pointer finger finally curling around the trigger and pulling it towards her.
The sound of the gunshot is deafening, even more so in the confined space. She can't force herself to look at Rocky, knowing that her poor love is no more than a bloodied mass of black spotted fur lying on the ground. However, when the arterial spray of blood never comes, and she neglects to hear the familiar thud of a body hitting the ground, she forces one eye to open a crack.
A choked sob escapes her body when Rocky remains before her, tail still swishing happily against the floor. It was a fucking blank. "Oh my god," she manages, already kneeling to scratch him behind the ears. "I'm so sorry, darling, I would never hurt you." His tongue laps at the salt of her tears drying on her cheek, even happier now that she was lavishing him with attention. A similar gunshot echoes down the hallways, pulling her out of her panicked state. Her eyes meet Arthur's, wondering if she looked as distraught as she felt.
"Very well done, Samantha." He chimes, looking awfully pleased. "May I ask you a question, my dear?" She nods shakily, and he continues. "How did you know it was a blank?"
"I didn't," she answers honestly. "I just-I didn't want to let you down, sir. Let anyone down." The second gunshot-it must have been Theodore. He'd been sent to speak with Merlin, and knowing that he'd completed the same task almost made her hate him more. She couldn't imagine that someone lacking that much empathy for other people had even had to think twice about shooting his dog.
"Smart girl." He hums. He can still remember when he'd been faced with the same task, the emotional toll that comes along with it. A sweet retriever named Sally had been his dog, and he remembered thinking that he'd never get over the loss of her. She died some fifteen years later. "You're dismissed."
She stands on trembling legs, hand gripping to the leather of Rocky's leash as if it's the only thing tethering her to the Earth. Offering him a thankful smile, she makes her way to the door, stopped when he calls out to her once more. "Good luck, child. You'll be needing it."
Her shoulder slams into the wall when she makes it further into the hallway, slipping to the floor to wrap her arms around the dalmatian. He crawls into her lap almost immediately, no longer small enough to really fit. She breathes in his scent deeply, never realising how thankful she was to have him in her life. He'd been the only consistent member of her life recently, and she couldn't imagine it without him anymore. She pulls away slightly, squishing his cheeks in her palm. "You're getting so many treats tonight, little one. Mummy's so, so sorry."
He barks, already well trained on what the word 'treat' meant. She can't help but laugh a little, still so thankful that it had been nothing more than a blank. Lancelot would have her head if she knew that Samantha hadn't been able to tell it was blank considering the two of them had spent so long learning how to be certain. She decided to chalk it up to something she would just keep to herself. After a moment, she feels satisfied with the love she'd been pouring onto her dog, forcing herself to her feet. "C'mon, then," she breathes, steadying herself. "Let's go find out whatever fucked up thing Merlin has planned for us next, yeah?"
…
Shorter chapter this time! Just wasn't super comfortable writing about Sam (almost) killing our sweet boy Rocky. I'm also in the middle of exams for school, so posting will be a bit slower than normal over the next two weeks. One last thing-this new Arthur is so much nicer in my head than the old one, and I'm willing to die on that hill. Thanks so much for reading!