Angels, Pop Stars, and...More Spies? Oh My!

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"Focus, Ember! Focus!" 

The voice of my former trainer filled my ear as I panted, trying to escape from the iron tight head lock I had found myself in. Focusing, I brought all my strength into flipping him over my head and onto the ground. He hit the matted ground with a thud as I stood up straight, my heart racing with adrenaline and my breathing deep. I swiped my forearm across my forehead, watching my trainer push himself off the ground in his protective gear. Smiling, he pulled off his helmet and tucked it under his arm. I placed my hands on my hips.

"You still got it, Ember. I haven't seen you that focused since that mission in Morocco."

I chuckled, shrugging and pushing back the stray locks of auburn hair that had escaped my ponytail. My trainer, a thirty seven year old guy named Peter, threw me a water bottle, which I caught gratefully. Unscrewing the cap, I muttered, "Bottom's up," and tipped my head back. Peter chuckled, downing his whole water bottle in two minutes. I drank half of mine and sighed, screwing the cap back onto the lip of the bottle. The training room was relatively empty, save for the few trainers hanging out in the corner of the room around a flat screen TV. 

"What can I say, I'm a badass." I said, wiggling my eyebrows.

Peter laughed, throwing his water bottle over near his duffel bag. I followed suit and Peter put on his helmet/face mask again. I got into a fighting stance again and we started brawling. Karate this time. Simple. After debating for five minutes, I didn't exactly want to leave to go back to Los Angeles. My meeting with Micah had been thirty minutes tops. It wouldn't be worth it to fly all the way from California to Virginia for only a thirty minute meeting. It doesn't make sense. So, I came here to the training area of the headquarters and found Peter, one of my former instructors.

I grunted as I kicked and punched and executed moves straight out of a James Bond movie. If only those bullies back when I was a kid could see me now...Instead of them beating my ass, I'd beat theirs. Big time. Back when I was seven, I had three bullies by the names of Jordan, Kevin, and Leon. I didn't go to a public school and hadn't learned much combat then (I'd only just started in jiu-jitsu and was less than half-way through with karate), but they were the typical playground bullies. Nasty and threatening. They eventually stopped bullying me when I preformed a particularly elaborate kick-and-flip maneuver on Leon (something Garret banned me from doing ever again on a normal civilian). The look on their faces had been priceless, especially Leon's.

"Peter, stop." I said suddenly, relaxing.

Peter stopped dodging and stood up straighter, taking off his helmet again. His head of curly blonde hair looked like a sweaty hot mess. His face was covered in sweat and he looked like he was in pain. Oops. Probably got a bit carried away there.

"What's wrong, Ember?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"Nothing. I'm sorry, I'm really tired. The plane ride and everything..."

I trailed off but Peter nodded. Tossing his helmet over to his bag, he started undoing his protective suit. I downed the rest of my water, throwing the empty plastic bottle into a nearby recycle bin. It bounced off the edge and into the bin.

"Oh, it's okay, Ember. It was nice seeing you again." Peter answered, wiping his face.

I smiled at him and started walking away.

"Bye Peter and thanks again!" I called over my shoulder as I walked out of the training room and into the women's locker room. It was completely empty. Grabbing a towel, I wiped my sweaty face and neck as I started stripping off my clothes. The sports bra and yoga pants I wore to train weren't mine. The CIA keeps extra pairs on stock in case they're ever needed. I didn't pack any luggage (mainly because I'd flown here in a helicopter) and I'm expected back in Los Angeles tonight anyway. No overnighters in Virginia today.

Showering hastily, I changed into my normal clothes and threw the dirty training pair down the laundry chute. Good riddance. The sports bra was too tight anyway. Walking down the halls of the headquarters, I nodded to people I knew and said hellos. When I finally reached the Helicopter pad on the runway, I saw that the pilot and co-pilot were ready to go. Shortly after, we were lifting off and making the long trip back to Los Angeles. I fell asleep, leaving the Secret Service agent who'd come along to accompany me to keep track of time. I trained for three hours. I'm tired as hell. Please leave me alone.