She Will Persist

25

Axel

Instead of 370 agents there was now about 250. That was the most shocking part.

Since Owen was still locked in the basement prisons and Hunter was too drunk with power to really do the job of Inspector, Flagg was now more involved in agent affairs.

Yay.

He only had us practice individual courses, no team exercises on the Street or relays or team sparring. He put Harrison and I in the same training group, only because we had the same skill set, capabilities and experience. Sprinting suicides up and down the field, distance running from dawn to dusk, pull ups until your arms gave out, weight lifting, sit ups, climbing up buildings, push ups, swimming, parkour. The amount of times I'd thrown up the past two weeks was unbelievable, and I'd gotten so used to spit dribbling down my chin I didn't even notice it anymore.

Flagg had also taken the liberty of "teaching" the level 8 group Harrison and I were in himself, since Zach was suspended as a trainer and he'd depleted the training groups so much there was only one level 8 group now. Blitz was also suspended as a level 9, getting moved all the way back down to level 6 just like Lucky, Lautaro and Quinn, where they weren't even mission status anymore. With my shit shoulder and Flagg's promise not to let Harrison out for couple years we technically weren't mission status either but I think Flagg just liked torturing us even harder and that's why he kept us as level 8s.

Cal was doing his best with his remaining seven fingers in the infirmary tending to the increasing amount of agents coming in with injuries from Flagg's accelerated training exercises. He wasn't angry at Flagg so much as he was just stressed and depressed. Same with Zach. Flagg hadn't put him in a level training group at all, probably because he was too old. Instead, he had his nephew trapped in a classroom teaching French, English, geography, coding and a couple other classes. Some might call it selfish of me, but I had been a little more focused on keeping myself alive recently.

"Get down farther Lawrence!" Flagg slammed his boot down on my back and I collapsed to my stomach on the track. "Not that far you worthless shit!" He yelled at me again. I struggled to push myself back up and continue doing the set of clapping push-ups.

"Where are you at?" Flagg paced in front of us.

"87," Jett Dinh managed weakly from my other side.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck is the matter with you?" Flagg glared down at us with dead eyes and kept pacing. "You're all lazy, unwanted fuckers, you know that?"

Harrison spat saliva stained in blood out his mouth next to me. "Likewise," he managed to say.

The tip of our Director's boot hit Harrison straight in the nose, sending him flying sideways into me and knocking both of us to the ground.

Flagg looked disgusted above us. "Pathetic. You two have been here for eight fucking years, and you're still just as pathetic as when you got here." He physically spat at us this time, and the spit landed on Harrison's bare back. He was too tired to try to wipe it off, he just rolled off my legs and continued the set. I did the same.

We reached 200 and we all immediately dropped to the ground, gasping, gagging and groaning.

Flagg simply rolled his eyes. "Enough arm work. End line. Now."

-

Jett clipped my bad shoulder when he walked past. "Watch it bitch," he snarled.

"Hey dipshit!" Harrison got up into Jett's face. "You hit him, asshole," he snapped at him.

Jett laughed once, then punched Harrison straight in the face and knocked him to the ground. "Stay down Andrews, so the rest of us don't have to see your fucked-up face."