Another Probie

Chapter One

Something cold and hard smacked me across the face. I staggered, but much to the dismay of whoever was behind the gun, I stayed standing. I spit out blood. Someone else kicked the backs of my knees, making me fall. I heard cold laughter.

"The ex-marine, finally brought to her knees, with but a kick." More laughter.

"There's no such thing as an ex-marine" I growled. I was in pain, but not about to go down without a fight. My nose had already been broken, and I had several knife and lash marks on any part of my body. These guys should've known that there's no such thing as an ex-marine, and if something happens to one, you damn well were going to see another one at some point.

Suddenly light flooded the room. I blinked a few times, and my eyes adjusted. I took in my surroundings and my captors, knowing that if I made it out of here without being in a body bag, I'd be asked for descriptions. One was African-American, tall, and had a long scar running from his left temple to his jawbone. That'd be a helpful thing for identification. The other one was Caucasian. He was tall, too, which wasn't good if I had to fight. See, I'm only 5'5 1/2", which isn't real handy in a fight. But like I said before, no such thing as an ex-marine, which means I've learned how to use size to my advantage.

The second guy approached me. They both had guns, but he stuck his in his waistband and pulled out his knife. Dammit, not the knife again. My shirt was already bloody and torn up from the lashings and knifings.

He went around to my back, and flipped the penknife open. Then, white hot pain as he dragged it slowly across my back, pressing hard to make a deep cut. He did it again and again, until he said,

"Amare, time to have your fun." The African-American man smiled coldly. He turned the safety off on his gun and aimed. So this was what the other man meant by "having your fun". Before he could shoot, people in kevlar with guns and helmets swarmed the room, shouting. There were four people, three men and a woman with dark hair, close behind, shouting,

"Federal Agents! Drop the weapon!"

"Too late." Amare said. Smiling, he pulled the trigger.