Second Bunker, Training Facility, Blackwolf Base camp
***
Slipped.
The Trainee fell a 30-foot drop from a constricted hollow bridge and to the safety of the trampoline. His bruises were healing with the accelerated healing pads that were issued to him after yesterday's beating.
They worked fast. Military-grade. It even numbed the pain that surrounded the wound and accelerated the tissues to heal themselves at 50% incremental on the normal rate. However, his bruises were so deep that he could still feel the pain when he moves.
Laughter loomed as he bounced off the trampoline.
Agent Joseph smiled at him condescendingly from above the hanging bridge from which Lance fell. He sparred two operatives, sandwiching him on a narrow wooden bridge, supported with thick ropes, hence challenging his footing as the bridge swayed whenever they moved.
"Again!" Agent Joseph, in his late twenties and lean, almost the same size as his, called upon him for another round. They had about five rounds and all concluded with him falling.
"You are rusty, Lieutenant." The Captain smirked from the sidelines as Lance climbed on the ladder up toward the bridge again.
"You are not helping, Captain." Lance retorted. "Some advise perhaps."
"Experience is the best teacher, my friend. Just enjoy the sport and learning will come after." The Captain teased.
Lance could not remember the time that he was unstoppable. But the covert operatives had a different training than theirs. And they spend most of the time training on simulated conditions as they had the proper training facility. However, in the Marines, they spent their time on war deployments to rebel countries.
Covert operatives were built for the most difficult times and heightened their brain function to react to unplanned situations even in the very most challenging environmental conditions. Lance suspected that these operatives were fueled by an oral drug that enabled their increased brain activity.
These drugs were not officially approved by the Marines due to ethical reasons. But not to this organization. It was a necessity.
He overheard the guffaws from other operatives witnessing another day of embarrassment. If only he could unleash his younger self and maybe he could par with the others in terms of skill. But those days were long gone as if locked inside a vault longing for him to open.
He crossed the hanging bridge and his two opponents waited midway. His every step shook as he sauntered against the wooden planks.
As he was closer, the other operative, a tier 2, lunged at him with punches. He evaded some of them but received a heavy blow to his abdomen and felt another sting of pain from his insides. Disoriented, another blow connected to his cheek that drove him to the suspended ropes on the sides of the bridge.
Although his one foot slipped again, hanging in mid-air. But he held stronger and prevented his fall. The Tier 2 operative took a few steps back for him to recuperate. Agent Joseph was behind the operative, seemingly finding pleasure in the trainee's failures.
"Lieutenant. It seems that not only you are rusty, but you lack talent and skill also." The agent chuckled. "You want some advice? Surrender and leave the program."
"No can do, Agent," Lance responded as his both footing recovered on the bridge deck. He felt the piercing looks on the other agents below had enraged his blood to boil. His frustration increased to a rate that almost drove him into a psychotic murderer.
He could not understand the feeling. It may be abnormal, but it was yet controllable. He could feel the searing heat somewhat looming in his nape and the back of his head.
'This is normal,' Lance thought, knowing that this feeling was familiar and had visited him years ago. Reminiscing it was unwise, as he convinced himself. It might unlock bitter memories.
'Red Sparrow!' He cursed in his mind.
"Ok, then. Suit yourself. If you can handle the beating, then let's continue this embarrassment."
Without any further words, the Tier 2 operative darted again right after Agent Joseph instructed him. The operative's combinations were the same as before and Lance had memorized them. Even the way the operative delivered a punch, he could anticipate the way his shoulders moved.
He blocked and evaded the punches but failed to anticipate a kick to his shin that drove Lance to the ropes again. Instead of letting him recuperate, the operative continued to deliver front kicks that Lance had difficulty regaining his footing.
The kicks were merciless, attacking various body parts - to his head, to his ribcage, to his chest. Although the pain overpowered his senses to retaliate, somewhat a hint of reflex triggered, alongside searing anger, caught the operative's leg with his grip.
Lance was surprised, luckily to have caught his opponent's shin from the rigorous attacks. The operative's face was also surprised and had not freed his foot from the malicious trap. Lance could feel the emerging strength that powered his fingers almost to a point that he could crush his shin.
But to his sanity, he let go of the grip and let the operative contemplate on his aching shin. The room was silenced, to his surprise too.
"How could you catch my kick?" The operative was perturbed.
The trainee recovered his fighting stance without responding. He felt rage burning inside his core and somewhat confusing his rational thinking. A soft conscious voice somewhat had told him to attack his opponent confidently. But that voice was his.
As Lance sauntered close, the operative retaliated with punches again. But almost holding no bearing as his foot served no proper support. Lance swept the punches effortlessly and delivered a quick jab to the operative's stomach, driving the latter to his fall.
He held a remorseful stare at the bouncing operative against the trampoline from below.
The room was still silent. Somewhat the crowd was awed or disgusted by the overpowering neophyte. He was not sure. But the urge continued to grow in him. The urge to fight or to kill. The searing pain left him, unknowingly, seemingly revitalized his senses and his energy.
'This is the feeling. I know this.' He thought.
Agent Joseph had no hint of intimidation from the current display of strength the neophyte portrayed, nor any signs of surrendering from their spar.
The Tier 3 Elite kill squad member had sprinted first toward Lance. The Agent was fast as if the swaying hanging bridge held no challenge with his fast pace legwork. Quick successions of punches were delivered as the Agent closed their gap. Lance evaded them nonchalantly. His senses were somewhat heightened and could anticipate every attack.
Although Agent Joseph was quicker than the recent Tier 2 operative, he was still unable to connect a clean blow. Lance could foresee his counterattack would cease the raging operative and end their skirmish shortly. But instead, he let a single punch connects to his cheek.
He did not shudder back, only his head moved from the punch. He felt the pain but not as significant as before. He wanted to look like the punch held only little discomfort so as to discourage his opponent. Agent Joseph discontinued his attack and took a few steps back. Now, the Agent's expression was plastered with intimidation. Seemingly, Lance's plan was effective.
"Are you done?" Lance asked.
Agent Joseph was silenced. He rubbed his fist with his other hand, maybe having felt the pain on his knuckles.
"Don't be too cocky, Lieutenant. I am just warming up," Joseph responded.
Instantly, Lance started to attack. He felt his speed increase and somewhat the bridge held no obstruction anymore for every step he made. He was the one who delivered the punches this time and the Agent tried to block them with the utmost difficulty.
The trainee's combinations were swift and fast and easy. There was more speed and strength waiting for it to unleash but Lance controlled it to a level that his opponent could comprehend.
A kick to Joseph's thigh caused the operative to fall from the suspended rope railings and into the trampoline below. The room held its silence ever since the fall of the first guy until he heard a few faint claps growing.
As his heightened senses subsided the pain loomed again from all over his body, even with the bruises that he collected from yesterday's training, showing up again. His energy collapsed suddenly and he released a discomforting exhale.
His energy was gone. The claps remained.
"Good job!" He heard Luke's approval.