That all had been so many years ago. As Silleva pointed her custom pistol at the practice target, she let all that anger flow through her to her trigger finger. She unloaded a clip into the poor dummy with extreme accuracy. Pressing the button to bring the dummy close, she smirked as the other shooters around her nearly lost their jaws they dropped so far. Silleva looked at her dummy. Only one hole, and in the center of the target’s head. Perfect. As usual…
Silleva reloaded her gun with blinding speed and called up a new target. She fired. A perfect round, again. She began to load the gun with a fresh clip. As she cocked the gun in preparation to shoot a hole through the dummy’s chest, a hand landed heavily on her shoulder. Instinct kicked in and Silleva whipped around with the butt of the gun sticking out from her hand in preparation to strike her assailant in the temple. As it connected with its target, Silleva realized she wasn’t being attacked at all.
In fact, she was being called on to attack someone else.
“Oops!” Silleva said as she saw Grets flop over from the blow.
Fess, having stood at a safe distance, shook his head.
“I TOLD him that was a bad idea. He should know by now not to joke when you’re in the zone. You ain’t on nobody’s side then.”
“Ha ha ha… Oh, you’re KILLING me, Fess. My sides are just splitting wide open,” Silleva rolled her eyes and leaned over to wake up Grets, “Hey, buddy. Sorry. You scared me. Wake up, Grets. Come’oooooon. You can take more than one lousy hit to the head, can’t you? SERIOUSLY? Cap’ isn’t gonna be too happy if this is the best you’ve got. ‘might even kick you out.”
Grets groaned and carefully rubbed his temple, suddenly awake from the threat.
“Geez, Eva, gimme a break! YOU cracked me ‘cross the HEAD! Cap’ll just be glad I’m ALIVE, much less have brain cells left…”
Silleva shook her head.
“He’ll likely crack you once for being stupid, if he doesn’t crack you twice for not bringing me back quickly.”
Fess and Silleva both laughed over Grets’ streak of cusses and curses. By the time he was done, he was half way out the door of the in-door shooting range. Fess and Silleva walked quickly, both tamping down the final spasms of laughter as they rounded the corner to the caption’s office. The door was boldly labeled “DO NOT ENTER UNDER PENALTY OF DEATH.” None of the three complied. The door hid the many bunk rooms and offices, and numerous other kinds of facilities that held the core of the secret military organization Silleva had spent her whole adult life in. The three walked down the hall until they reached the tenth door on the left. Grets opened the door and ushered Silleva and Fess inside. He had to turn his torso slightly to fit through the door frame. Fess walked down the steps in front of Silleva, stealthy as a cat with his small size. Silleva sighed softly to herself, and felt her momentary regret for picking this profession. If it had been a different time, a different life, under different circumstances, Silleva knew she would have happily dated either of the two. But, it quickly faded as the memories of why she was what she was flooded back, and in her haste to move, to get to her assignment so she could feel the thrill of the chase and the kill, she jumped the rail of the spiral staircase, landing easily at the bottom with only a thud to account for her action. She faced the hall of rooms that were the offices of some of the top ranking people in this small, yet lethal organization.
Silleva slowly stood upright from her crouched position and began to walk down the long hall. She barely noticed the soft hiss of air as Fess lept over the rail to keep up with her. Grets only grunted in impatience with his own massive size, as it forced him to continue down toward them the old fashion way.
Silleva strolled to the fourth door and opened it slowly, entering the caption’s office.
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