Elite (36 page)

He felt the eyes of the other agents in the room burning holes through him as he made his way for the exit. None of them knew what to think. Number Thirty-nine had just obliterated Number Seven with a punch that seemed to have been delivered by the devil himself.

Daniel ripped off his gloves – the right now stained with blood – and threw them to the ground as he walked out the door. He was not proud of what he had done, but he didn’t feel bad about it either. It was a necessary evil that needed to occur in order for Daniel to prove his worth. The entire agency would soon know what he was. He was a beast.

Besides, Jitters had it coming.

Chapter 18

All anyone wanted to talk about in the lounge that night was Daniel’s destruction on the sparring mat earlier that afternoon.

“I can’t believe I missed it!” Shifty exclaimed. He had been sent out on a brief local assignment during the early part of the day.

“I’m telling you, it was incredible!” a scruffy looking agent named Davey told Shifty. “The hardest punch I’ve ever seen! Even harder than Titan!”

Davey looked over his shoulder to make sure Titan wasn’t standing behind him listening in, even though everyone knew he was out on a weeklong assignment.

Charlie had also been sent out into the field for the next three days. Daniel could only imagine the level of disappointment he would feel when he learned that he had missed out on Daniel’s triumph.

“I have got to admit,” Norma interjected after taking a healthy swig of her amber colored brew, “I am legitimately impressed.”

Daniel smiled at her and tried not to blush. It really wasn’t that hard. In fact, none of the compliments that he had been given throughout the day meant much to him. Knocking out Jitters didn’t feel much like an accomplishment. He instead saw it as something he had simply needed to do in order to achieve the greater goal of becoming the best. Jitters was nothing more than a speed bump on the road to the top.

Though hearing that he had impressed Norma did provide a certain level of satisfaction within him.

Daniel had spent a half hour in the shower after the fight – if you could call it that – just standing under the showerhead, feeling the hot water trickle down his body. Creating the physical reactions within his body necessary to give himself such increased strength was beginning to have an effect on his mind.

Once he came down from the high of being pumped full of so much testosterone and adrenaline, he usually felt empty, as though whatever he had just accomplished meant nothing to him. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good enough. He wanted more – craved it. He was addicted to becoming stronger, faster, and superior to all those around him.

It frightened him to feel this way. He had grown afraid that the power bestowed upon him was going to his head. He wondered if this was how the great dictators of old had felt during their rise to power. He hated to think that his mind could resemble those that represented such evil. He would not let himself become that.

And so he took little satisfaction in his accomplishments. He chose not to celebrate taking down Jitters, but to accept it as a small part in a greater plan – A plan where he would use his superiority to protect people rather than destroy them. He had no desire to control or stand above anyone. He would not be the world’s next great dictator, but the world’s first great protector.

Daniel was quickly brought back down to Earth when his training resumed the following morning. It took only a matter of minutes for him to realize that he still knew very little in the ways of being a personal security agent – or in laments terms, a glorified body guard.

Daniel very much enjoyed his time in the classroom with Richfield, as the retired CIA man recalled countless stories he had read in mission reports and heard from other agents in his time with the company. Each had its own moral that Daniel could learn from and put to use while out in the field.

Daniel’s favorite story was about a female agent named
Daya. Daya was of Indian descent and therefore spent most of her time with the CIA stationed in Mumbai. She had been sent on a mission, the details of which Daniel did not have the security clearance to learn.

However, Richfield was able to tell him that she had been warned to be on the lookout for a deadly Pakistani government agent who was known only by the codename “Cobra.” Cobra was suspected in the deaths of dozens of spies from government agencies all over the world. Cobra was so skilled a killer that no one had ever stolen
so much as a glance of the mysterious executioner. It was believed that due to the nature of Daya’s mission, Cobra would certainly be primed to strike at the most unsuspecting moment.

At some point during her mission,
Daya had gotten turned around in the city of over twelve-million, when she spotted a little girl being abused by a middle-aged man. Being the noble soul that she was, Daya went over and fought the man off before turning her back on the vagrant in an attempt to comfort the child.

The girl appeared to be fourteen or fifteen years of age, and sat curled up in a ball against the wall of some old building, tears streaming down her face.
Daya crouched down to comfort the scared child, placing a hand on her shoulder, and that was when the cobra decided to strike.

The young girl pulled a knife from behind her and thrust it between the third and fourth ribs of the unsuspecting CIA agent, and twisted, sealing
Daya’s fate.

During an investigation, officers interviewed the vagrant, who had been witness to the murder. It turned out that the man had seen the knife on the little girl and was trying to wrestle it away from her, when
Daya came to the rescue of the very killer she had been told to be on the watch for.

With the vagrant’s testimony the CIA now knew who they were looking for, and was able to capture the Cobra four months later. The lethal youth turned out to be seventeen years of age, though she appeared even younger, and was the daughter of a Pakistani general. He had apparently raised his daughter to be exactly who she was – a non-threatening predator, who lured in her unsuspecting victims before lashing out with a quick, fatal strike.

“The moral of the story is that absolutely
anyone
can be dangerous,” Richfield told Daniel when he had completed the tale. “Be on guard at
all
times.”

There was more to Richfield’s classes than just stories, however. He and Daniel also went over important skills such as how to spot a tail, and how to scare off said tail once you’ve spotted it. Richfield also taught him about attack angles and how to best guard against being caught in a defenseless position.

All of the discussion of fending off assassins made Daniel’s eyes wide. It was fun to talk about such things and imagine himself as being a part of it all, but to actually be out in the thick of it – it didn’t seem real.

Shooting practice also gave him a hefty dose of reality as Daniel came to the complete and utter realization that he absolutely sucked. He was worse than a terrible shot – compared to the other agents – and his abilities were of absolutely no use to him.

He realized in the first few minutes of his second training session that the ability to aim dead center at a target that was exactly twenty-five yards in front of him and not moving would do him absolutely no good in the field unless the bad guys stood still and watched while he lined up the shot.

This meant shooting was a skill he would have to master the way everyone else did – practice. He decided that two weeks of two-hour long training sessions were not enough, and spent much of his free time at the shooting range.

After the third training, Richfield stopped coming along and let Daniel practice on his own. Further instruction would do Daniel little good at this point. It was going to come down to time spent on the range.

Occasionally Blank would come down for an hour or two, just to sit and watch Daniel take target practice. He never spoke a word. Daniel quite often wondered what the odd older-man was thinking while he sat in his plastic chair and watched Daniel shoot, but he never did ask. He figured that if Blank wanted his thoughts to be known he would have made them such.

At first it was difficult for Richfield to find Daniel a new sparring partner after everyone had seen what he had done to Jitters, but eventually Isabella stepped up and volunteered to go a few rounds with him. Maybe she figured he wouldn’t hit a girl as hard, but Daniel had already promised Richfield that he wouldn’t use his full strength against the other agents again outside of the Challenge Arena.

He did always use enough strength to win though. He had gained too much respect in the eyes of the other agents after smashing Jitters’ face in to lose it all again. He had to make sure he stayed sharp and took down the other agents without seriously damaging them.

He usually achieved this by using his strength to block their kicks and punches, then grabbing onto their arms or legs and using his strength to take them to the ground and pinning them against the mat. The point of practice was to sharpen technique, not to punch anyone out.

Eventually as more agents began to realize Daniel was no longer out for blood, more were willing to spar with him. In fact, many sought out the opportunity to scrap with Daniel so they could experience his unique skillset firsthand.

Daniel embraced his popularity, finding that each agent had their own, unique fighting style. This allowed him to work on all different kinds of defensive, offensive, and counter moves. He also learned to use his strength abilities for things other than striking. He was able to use his leg strength to move around more quickly, and even found that he could do flips and other agility-driven moves to avoid contact and put himself in better position to strike.

One time when fighting a dark haired, bushy eyed agent named
Jefferson, Daniel avoided a leg sweep by jumping over it. Without thinking he began to corkscrew his body in mid-air so that while his torso was parallel to the ground, his legs swung around toward his opponent. His right heel ended up making contact with the right side of Jefferson’s face. A gasp of impressed disbelief arose from the crowd. Daniel wished he could have seen himself do what he had just done, because he didn’t believe for a second that he had actually done it. It was the kind of move you only saw in kung-fu movies, and Daniel had managed to do it by pure accident.

By the following Monday, Jitters was back walking around the complex, and but for the scars on his reconstructed nose everyone had completely moved on from the events of the week prior.

Horchoff had told Daniel the day after the fight that he had completely shattered Jitters’ nose, smashing all of the cartilage to tiny bits so that he needed reconstructive nose surgery if he ever wanted to breathe through it again. Daniel had also given Jitters a pretty substantial concussion, which between that and the nose surgery kept Jitters in the infirmary for no less than three days, and sentenced him to bed rest for the rest of the week.

It was impressive that Jitters was back in the gym working out just a week after sustaining his injuries, but Daniel had heard whispers that he would be off active duty for at least another two weeks.

Charlie thought the whole thing was hysterical.

“I can’t believe I missed it!” He had said no less than one hundred times the weekend after returning from his assignment.

Daniel just nodded and tried to play the whole thing off. His fights with Jitters were behind him. He was less than two weeks away from completing his training, and after months of being confined to the complex he was anxious to get out into the field.

The second week of weapons and mission skills training flew by faster than any of the previous ten weeks Daniel had spent training at Elite. Before he knew it Richfield was standing behind him at the gun range assessing how far his skills had developed.

After Daniel fired his final shot, the look on Richfield’s face seemed to be one of disappointment.

“My unique skillset doesn’t much help me here,” Daniel explained.

“No worries,” Richfield ensured Daniel, not a hint of discouragement in his voice. “It’s not your job to hit anything. Just get the bullets close enough to scare them off and make sure the client avoids getting hit.”

Richfield always made a point to emphasize that the client’s safety came first, and never the agents. He felt it was important for all of his men and women to know that if it were ever to come down to it, their job description dictated that they sacrifice themselves to keep the client breathing.

“I want you to go up to the briefing room now,” Richfield ordered Daniel. “Mister Blank and I will meet you there in ten minutes.”

Daniel nodded and scurried out of the room and into the elevator. He pushed the “L1” button and rode to the main floor of the complex. He had only one week left of training and wondered what Richfield had in store for him.

The elevator reached its destination and the doors parted. Daniel walked out into the long hallway with the window overlooking the arena to his right. He made his way out into the fitness area and up the metal staircase that led to the office level. Though he had never been inside, he knew that the briefing room was the room just to the right of the classroom in which he had spent many mornings with Doctor
Horchoff his first few weeks of training, and then with Richfield the last two weeks. He knew it was the briefing room because he had seen many agents follow Richfield into the room and walk out a few minutes later with their assignments in hand. It was also the only room other than Richfield’s office in which the shades were always drawn.

Daniel opened the door and flipped on the lights. What he found was not at all what he expected from a briefing room. Like all of the other rooms on that level, the walls were white cinder and old, dirty blue carpeting lining the entire square footage of the floor. The room was also very small – no more than twenty feet by twenty feet.