Most of her former unit were on their own solos, so as Max fell back into the routine of training, she befriended a couple of X-Series she saw on a daily basis. X5-992, or Brandy, as she'd chosen, was another soldier designed predominantly for Nova assignments – or at least that's what her unit had coined the program. Nova, or Casanova, had soldiers getting high profile targets to fall in love with them and give them information. Brandy's last assignment had been completed a month ago. The man she'd been tasked to have fall in love with her, coincidentally, was the CEO of EQ8 Technologies. Brandy had killed him only a few days prior to Cale's detonation of the building. It was a small world, after all, Max thought.

Brandy reminded her of Kendra. Platinum blonde hair, busty, but differed in that she truly had a taste for women. So unlike Kendra. She was a little taller than Max and had a little cluster of freckles on one cheekbone that gave her a girl-next-door kind of presence. She liked Brandy. Of course, Brandy had openly asked her when they first met if she was a tongue-twister. It'd taken Max the better part of a minute to figure out what that meant, and she shook her head. "Unless my mission parameters require," she'd amended.

"Too bad," Brandy replied, tossing long tendrils over her shoulder. "I know all kinds of rhymes."

It was an utter shame that Brandy was back at base, because that CEO had knocked her up before she eliminated him. She'd told Max that once she found out about the pregnancy, she fast-tracked the mission. She couldn't stay and have the baby – she needed to get back and have the whole thing be 'over with.'

Frowning, Max realized with a jolt that she had been lucky. Not all marks would have practiced safe sex, so she was glad she and Cale had. Their birth control shots only lasted three months, and she had been under for six. Brandy had been under for longer, and because of the nature of her mission, had even less contact with her handler. She shook her head in disgust at what Brandy had to go through.

She and Brandy usually did their morning calisthenics together before they separated for class. That was the thing about Manticore – they wanted to keep teaching their soldiers, keep them cultured so they could assimilate easily, keep them constantly striving to be smarter, better. So while Brandy went off to Psychology for Type A Personalities, Max went to Modern Physics in Post-Pulse America.

Every day before Mess, Max would meet some of the other troops outside in the Commons, training grounds for physical activities, or at the Quad, their indoor gym, to spar with some of her classmates.

At the end of her second week back, a new face popped up at the Commons. He was about six foot tall, dirty blonde hair over hazel eyes and very strong build. His skin was bronzed as if he'd been mostly in the sun the past year, and when he smiled a lopsided smirk at his opponent, Max felt her mouth water. The sight of him, standing in the center of a ring of soldiers, shirtless with fists up, ready for action, excited her blood, made her anxious. Like a boxer, he danced around his opponent, X5-888, "West," a dark haired Nova soldier a little taller and paler than the blonde.

"Who's that?" Max had asked Brandy, catching sight of his barcode. X5-494. Something about him niggled at her memory. Had she seen him before?

Brandy looked to her friend, noting the way her pupils dilated a bit. "Your future baby daddy," Brandy joked. But she may as well have been talking to herself, because Max was transfixed.

She couldn't help but stare at him. He was gorgeous, and she couldn't tear her eyes away. She watched the sparring session as they traded blows and tried to outmaneuver one another. West had not been doing very well. The other soldier had taken him to the mats three times before he kicked up, irritated.

"What?"

"Alec," West said, shaking his head, hands thrown up in the air.

Again, Max wondered if she had met him before. Had she run into him out on a mission? Did their solos cross somewhere?

"What?" the blonde soldier asked, jerking his head back as if to suggest this was not the first time he and West had a disagreement.

West eyed Max and Brandy for a moment, a flash of anger in his eyes. He turned his glare back to 494. "I'm out, man."

"Why? Afraid of getting beat for the thousandth time?" came 494's cocky response.

West brusquely exited the ring and pushed past Max on the right, almost bumping into her.

"What the hell is his problem?" Brandy asked, echoing Max's thoughts.

The golden soldier looked around the circle of comrades, muscles twitching under his skin to keep the fight going, and utterly delicious lips turning downward at the loss of opponent. "Anybody else want to give their ol' buddy Alec a run for his money?" he asked. He turned, meeting the eyes of a few of the soldiers, mostly men. Each shook their heads. For a brief second, he caught Max's eyes, did the fastest double-take she'd ever seen, then dismissively passed her up.

Oh, hell no. Max's heart beat quicker as she narrowed her eyes.

Brandy took a step back from her, realizing what had just happened. If there was one thing Max hated, it was that people who didn't know her constantly underestimated her.

Max untucked and tore off her shirt, and then muscled her way through the circle and into the makeshift 'ring.'

He had his back to her, and once he realized the other soldiers were staring at someone behind him, he turned, a glint of mischief in his eyes, and gave her an appreciative once-over. "452," he said, eyebrows tilting up.

Like he was surprised she was standing in the middle of the ring, ready to throw down, which made her grind her teeth more.

He did recognize her. By her face, no less, not even her barcode. Max pushed her hair behind her shoulders and brought her fists up. "My name's Max."

As he brought his fists up only halfway, Max saw the way his biceps bunched halfway up his upper arm, and his abs compressed into rows of perfection. She wondered absentmindedly if he was a Nova, too.

They began dancing around one another, each trying to figure out the other's strategy. Who would make the first move? A hush fell over their crowd as the two soldiers circled each other, staring.

Max made the first move, twitching forward with a right cross. Her target had been his nose, but he tilted his chin away from her and she nicked his jaw instead.

"First one's free," he said, the crowd of soldiers chuckling at his challenge. He dropped to one foot and swept his other leg around.

Max jumped to avoid tripping on that leg and falling onto her back, but wasn't prepared for the second sweep which immediately followed. She caught herself in a crabwalk position and propelled herself back up onto her feet.

"Not bad," Alec said, resetting his fists between them. Max mirrored his movement and waited for his next move. "Not as good as me, but not bad."

"Do you always run your mouth, or are there times when that jaw stops wagging?"

Their audience groaned in surprise at her insult, whereas Alec tilted his chin up diagonally to consider her words. It almost looked like genuine mirth in his eyes. His lips twitched and his eyes darkened. "There are other things this mouth can do," he said.

A shiver coursed through her body at the slight change in ambience, and she blushed as his innuendo hit her, which was distraction enough for him to land a quick jab to her torso. He followed it with a left cross, down from which she easily ducked, sweeping her leg around to catch his.

He started to fall back but caught his balance, standing fully upright in time to catch her leg when she moved to kick him. He took her right to the mat, one leg between hers, pressing her down with his weight. He thought she did this on purpose; she allowed him to take her down.

Raising a single, slender eyebrow, Max exhaled, exasperated. It wasn't even the sparring that winded her – it was him. Alec. Even all sweaty, there was a scent about him that appealed to her. And like a cat, she wanted to rub her face all over it.

He was busy thinking behind those faded freckles, and seemed to lean in a little before deciding against it and backing off of her. He reached a hand down to help her up. "Fight's over," he called out to the crowd.

It was time to hit Mess for half of the soldiers, and as they dispersed, Alec bent to pick up his shirt. He watched her warily for a moment. Brandy handed the brunette her shirt and mumbled something about catching her at Mess, leaving the two soldiers relatively alone.

"You don't remember me, do you?" Alec asked.

"Did we meet somewhere?" Max asked, searching her memory for his face. Maybe they hadn't met on crossed solos. Maybe they'd med here, just not recently. "Or somewhen?"

He smiled, and god, did she want him to keep smiling. At her. And was that a hint of a bashful blush crawling up his chest?

"What?"

He broke their gaze for a moment and pulled his shirt on, a reminiscent smile overtaking the previous one. "You kinda… named me."

At this admission, the memory finally caught up with her. "Smart-aleck."

He smirked that lopsided one that made her knees weak. "Nice to see you again, Max." He started to walk away, but threw a glance over his shoulder. "By the way, I'm your new handler."