The Training Sessions [ON HOLD]

Transmission One: Green Eyes

A/N: anyone who can create a cover/banner/can come up with actors or actresses that look like the characters and make the cast list for this story (or hey, while you're at it, my other story for that matter), gets a dedication because I will be BEYOND grateful!!! Especially the cover part! :) Thank ya'll for reading!!!

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Transmission 1: June 7, 2013, 1533 hours.

I guess I should probably explain why I'm recording all of this from the hospital...you see, I've been beaten within inches of my life, pronounced clinically dead twice, and I've fallen deeply in love, all in the last month. My shrink, the one the CIA felt I needed after my so called "traumatic experience," said I need to start a diary. Only thing is, I can't write due to my shattered wrist, so I'm going to be using a recorder to enter daily transmissions. Though Linda, that's my shrink, says this is purely for my mental health, we both know the high and mighty big shots way up the food chain in the CIA are going to be listening to every word I say, and probably getting it down on paper too, so they have a hard copy of my story. So hey you guys, next time you think to do a little under-the-counter deal with a buddy to get him a job in return for a little dough? Yeah, don't even think about it, because of you do, some poor girl will end up like I did, beaten, broken, and half dead in a cellar. But that's not until much later. So enjoy my story, you sleaze balls, and let it be a lesson to you...don't mess with a bunch of semi-trained kids with nothing better to do than think of ways to blow stuff up, because you will most likely end up in jail.

*****

"Oh come on Bryce, we both know you can do better than that," I grinned as Bryce lay on top of me, pushing my athletic frame down into the soft mats with his chiseled, and might I say heavy, body.

Bryce grinned a wicked grin and retorted, "Yeah, but I could same the same thing about you, babe."

I strained against his strength and weight, and managed to make myself tired, but that was about it. I knew I couldn't use my strength against Bryce, so I chose my cunning instead. Leaning up, I pressed my lips to his, which is probably the oldest female fighting trick know, but I'm a firm believer in tried and true tactics. It worked, anyway, because his grip that was pinning my arms suddenly relaxed and I was able to get my legs around him and, in one fluid movement, pin him to the ground with his arm behind his back, and me sitting on his back, smushing his face into the mat. "My, how the tables have turned," I said with a sugary sweet voice. "Do you yield?"

"Never, not to you," he smiled, but I could hear a slight tone of chagrined defeat in his voice.

Twisting his arm behind his back even further, I asked him again, this time sarcastically, "Bryce, do you yield?" He grunted in pain and then finally, after a few tense seconds, tapped the exercise mat with his fist.

I grinned and hopped off of his back and released his arm, but as I reached down to help him up, he pulled me down to the mat. "I win," he smirked. Well two could play at that game. I shrugged and leaned in close, so that when I whispered in his ear my lips brushed his skin.

"Bryce, honey, hate to tell you, but I already won." As I said "won," I put him in a headlock. He easily broke my grip with his strong arms, and flipped me over so that I was once again on my back and he was standing up, but this time, I was actually out of breath. "Knock it off," I growled as I tried to get up. He leaned over my head and put his hand on my abdomen, keeping me on the ground. "I beat you. I won. Just accept that," I said as I swatted at his hand. Instead of releasing me, he smiled smugly, which only served to infuriate me. "Let...me...up!" I said, getting pissed off at him now. I wasn't in the best mood after training for three hours, I needed water and he did NOT need to screw with me.