MARIEL

6~ The Weapon ~

Moscow, Russia

Tira slipped the red stilettos onto her feet and then stood before the long mirror on her closet door. She looked at the red, form fitting evening gown she wore. The right side of the dress fell to her ankle, and the other side cut off at her left knee, exposing the soft muscular leg that was still sore from the previous day's activities. The dress was sleeveless with a lace strap that encircled her neck. Her blonde hair sat in a high bun that had taken her far too long to do.

She was tired. No, exhausted. It felt as if it had been just hours ago since she had awoken on the cement floor of the warehouse, choking and spluttering water. Aleksey and her trainer stood over her, smiling, applauding. She had given them both middle fingers in response.

"Did I pass?" She had asked, for some reason fearing that the answer would be 'no'.

"Of course you passed, Tira," Aleksey had responded. "You are by far the top candidate. You'll just have one more little test to make sure you are ready for your first assignment."

One more test. Even into her earliest memory as a child, there had always been one more test. She had never asked what they were testing her for until she was eleven. They had tested her young lung capacity by holding her head under water and timing her until she thrashed in desperation to leave the water. When she had recovered, she had angrily stormed to the president's office and demanded an answer. His answer had been vague, but enough to satisfy her.

"Tira," he had said, "There are people out there who do not like us. We are training people like you to protect our country and our allies. You have a purpose like none other. Can you keep your head up and keep training like Papa asks?"

Obviously, she had agreed. Not just because she wanted to protect her country, but because she had noticed that some people disappeared when they went against her 'papa'. And she took test after test, and it was pass after pass, even though each test seemed to become more difficult. Her tests were not simply physical. The trainers made sure to challenge her mentally at every opportunity. They had taught her not only to speak in many languages, but many accents. Sometimes the tests came in forms of puzzles, sometimes mazes, and other times testing her ability to solve problems that could lead to her death if unsolved.

However, tonight she could breathe. Tonight, her papa was simply hosting a dinner on her behalf to show off her successes to other political figures and their families. She presumed it was not necessarily because he was proud of her, but rather some political method to make money off of this project of his... to protect his country and his allies. Tira loved and despised him. She also respected him. Aleksey had managed to keep the adoration of his country at such a high level that he was still in power. Despite the intense days of horrific and terrifying training, he had still provided her a place of wealth and comfort within the Grand Kremlin Palace. Whatever she requested, she could have. But Tira did not want much. As long as she came out on the top, she was content.

A soft knock brought her back to her current reality.

"Come in."

A young woman dressed in a black skirt, white button down shirt, and a bowtie slipped into the large room and closed the door behind her. Her long black hair was held in a ponytail; her heels clicked on the marble floor as she came up behind Tira. "Are you ready?" She asked softly.

Tira stared at her in the mirror. "Not really." Her heart quickened as the young woman slipped her arms around her waist and positioned her body against Tira's. "What are you doing, Olivia?"

Olivia rested her cheek against Tira's back. "Inhaling you."

Tira closed her eyes. "I have to go soon," she whispered.