Wsim24B Ch 03

WSIM24B Chapter 3

I was in deep shit. They sent an aircraft to collect me. Until then, I was held away from the other trainees. Two trainers guarded me. They didn't look happy.

The trainers hustled me onto the air shuttle. There was a pilot, and two armed guards. They didn't appear interested in a conversation either. So I kept my mouth shut and considered my options - not that I had all that many.

We landed just outside the city - I saw enough to recognize it. A groundcar was waiting to collect me. The two guards came along. The drive was perhaps half an hour long. To my complete surprise, we arrived at the school where I'd been forced to code and hack.

The guards brought me into an office where an officer in combat fatigues waited. He had the insignia of a Major, and the name 'Parker' on his chest.

- "You can leave him." said the Major. My guards left, closing the door behind them.

I took the opportunity to study Major Parker. He had super-short salt and pepper hair - so short that I wondered if his barber used a hedge trimmer on his head. His face consisted of a series of mostly sharp angles.

"My name is Major Renfro." he said. So he was either Renfro, wearing Parker's uniform, or he was lying about his identity. Great start.

"Do you have any questions before we begin, Trainee Thorn?"

- "I do, Sir. How is trainee Ramon?"

The Major gave me a long, hard look. "Let's not play around, son. You don't give a shit about Trainee Ramon - you just want to know how well you tagged him."

- "Not quite, Sir. I'd like to know if he's still alive." If this was a murder inquiry, I would want to know my options. I suspected that they would be few.

- "You broke his jaw." said Major whoever-he-was.

- "Thank you, Sir."

- "Tell me what happened - from the very beginning."

The very beginning was our 5th month of training, when I'd first met Jane. I didn't have to describe the abandoned house, or the 'love nests'. "Trainee Jane formed an attachment to me, Sir. Over two consecutive months, we were teammates, and partners."

- "Sexual partners."

- "Yes, Sir."

- "Was she that good?" asked the Major.

- "Sir?"

- "You may have been brought up to believe that a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell. But neither of us are gentlemen, Trainee Thorn, so tell me what I want to know. How good was Trainee Jane?"

- "

Outstanding

, Sir."

- "Hmm." The Major made a notation on his device. "That good?"

- "If you check my scores and test results, Sir, you'll probably find that they dipped in the two months that I was with Jane. She is that much of a distraction. Sir."

- "Why did you attack Trainee Ramon?"

I'd already answered that question, but I guessed that the Major was trying to trip me up. That's why telling the truth (or mostly the truth) is such a good strategy - you don't make mistakes such as forgetting what you said the first time.

The Major sat back, and made a few more notations.

"Alright, Thorn, here's what going to happen. You're going to receive a demerit, for injuring a fellow trainee. You also got a commendation, for your quick reactions. I think it's fairly obvious that I would be sitting here with Trainee Ramon if you hadn't reacted so smoothly. We have the testimony of three other trainees who heard him threaten you. Self-defence, at the very least."

- "Thank you, Sir."

- "Shut up. I wasn't finished. You got another commendation, for textbook neutralization of an opponent. So you're down one, up two. Unfortunately, we can't send you back to Camp 5. Bad example, and so on. Plus Trainee Jane could be an issue. So you're going to Camp 6 for the rest of the month."

- "Camp 6, Sir?"

Major Renfro - or Parker - gave me a withering look.

- "Keep your nose clean, Trainee Thorn... and you just might make it."

***

Camp 6 was the last stop for Trainees who had committed infractions. There was no 'three strikes and you're out' system. For some offences, you were out the door after the first. I learned about a pair of trainees who had chosen to sneak away to have sex - on a Wednesday night. There was a surprise test, and they were missing. Done.

Another trainee had had sex with one of the trainers. He lost his job, but she was also kicked out of the program. We also heard about a male trainee who injured two other trainees in UC. One injury can be considered an accident; two is a trend.

Camp 6 was a rundown warehouse, just outside the city limits. There were no walls. Our beds were out in the open. There was zero privacy; even the showers and toilets were out in the open.

There were only five trainees. At our first meeting, we were forbidden to use our names, but we also had to perform a weird ritual where we had to confess to whatever infraction we had committed. One woman had cheated on a pencil and paper test. Cheating was encouraged; getting caught was not. The second trainee had smuggled alcohol into camp.

There were two trainers, who looked distinctly unhappy to be with us. They did not like my confession at all.

- "I broke a guy's jaw, Sir."

- "That's it? Tell the whole story!" said Trainer GT.

I did. I didn't embellish the facts, nor did I distort them. The trainers didn't believe me.

- "You don't lie here!" shouted Trainer MD. "I'm going to check the record! Meanwhile, you're going to run, Trainee Broken Jaw. Fifty laps around the perimeter! You have thirty minutes - starting now!"

I ran. I suspected that her little tirade had been for the benefit of the other trainees. I thought it was highly unlikely that they hadn't already seen a full report on me.

At the start of my third lap, I began counting. One-and-two-and-three... I rounded the building on 51. A lap was taking me between 45 and 55 seconds. I don't know about you, but I can't sprint for half an hour. I wasn't going to be even remotely close. That failure was going to lead to more punishment.

That was pretty much the pattern for the month. The two trainers drove us ridiculously hard. We ran until we dropped, and then we trained in UC and AC. Given the odd numbers, we often had to spar with the trainers. They were merciless. I was battered and bruised by the end of the first week.

It seemed like cruel and unusual punishment. I only found out later - much later - that it was very similar in the five main camps. The trainees were driven especially hard, because the 8th month of training was some sort of mental barrier. If people thought that they might have to endure two more months of this, they might be tempted to give up.

The weak - like Silent Girl - had already been culled, mostly in the first two months. Now the Trainers were intent on weeding out the weak-willed.

In the second week, we received two new trainees, a pair of women who had gotten into a fight over a guy. They'd done a fair bit of damage to each other before they were separated - and then they immediately went after each other again.

- "You like to fight?" said Trainer MD. "Then let's see you fight."

- "Against who, Ma'am?"

- "Each other. Show us what you've got."

The Trainer was goading them. These two women still hated each other. You could see it in their eyes. But they knew that if they overdid it - if they caused a serious injury - they'd be out on the next shuttle. It was an interesting fight: the combatants tried to score points, and also to inflict pain, but without maiming their opponent.

We were later joined by two more trainees: another cheater, and a thief. Nine trainees, then, and two sadistic Trainers who really seemed to have it in for me. They delighted in working us all until we were exhausted, and then having us spar - mostly without weapons, for which I was thankful.

- "If you can't fight when you're tired, what good are you?"

- "Anybody can fight when they're fresh!"

Their favourite trick was to run us to death, and then throw in an extra punishment for me, based on some imaginary infraction. Then, when I could barely stand, they would line up against me in UC, and beat the living shit out of me.

I got in a few lucky shots. To my surprise, those didn't seem to anger them at all. They would simply continue to methodically take me apart.

I couldn't beat them. I simply survived. There was no way I was going to let them drive me out of the program.

At the end of the month, I staggered onto a shuttle, and promptly fell asleep.

***

I had two weeks of coding and hacking training. I hated it, but my battered body loved the opportunity to rest and recover.

In the 9th month, I was back at Camp 2. There were some appealing women there, and I got one straightforward invitation to hook up for the month, which I politely declined. She found someone else in short order.

Major Renfro had told me to keep my nose clean. I didn't want to discover another jealous Ramon - that was for sure. And while I was certainly horny, I didn't think that I could afford another distraction like Jane. My dick complained, but the rest of my body (which still hurt) thanked me.

That month was hard work, but I wasn't being singled out for punishment. I kept my head down, and courted anonymity.

For the last two-week interval, I was sent to another odd location, a rundown building in the city's most depressed sector. Whatever business had once thrived here was long gone. ISEC had purchased it for a song, and converted it onto a shooting range.

I thought that I'd done well with ranged weapons and projectile weapons. But I discovered that I'd been sent here for 'remedial' training, to improve on some of my lower scores. There were eight trainees, and each of us had an individualized plan that we had to follow. With four Trainers present, we got a lot of individual attention.

We practiced for most of the day, with runs and calisthenics interspersed, to elevate our heart rates just before were put on the firing lines. We trained in the evenings, too, and then went to bed, hooked up to sleepread machines.

We weren't given a night off until Saturday. I had resigned myself to another period of enforced chastity, because none of the women interested me at all. Well ... that's not quite true. There was a slender brunette named Martine who showed promise, but she stuck close to her chosen guy. I wasn't about to interfere with that dynamic.

There was also a blonde named Abby, who had a ridiculously hard body. The only fat she carried was in her boobs, her ass, and her lips. I don't really know why, but there was something about her face that set me off. I couldn't quite put my finger on it; was it because her eyes were a little too far apart? Her slightly retrousse nose? The puffy lips? Or maybe it was the expression in her eyes. Abby wasn't a bimbo, or anything like that. But she did look like an ice-cold bitch, and that was enough to cool me off.

On Saturday night, though, Abby approached me.

- "Hey. Thorn, right?"

- "That's right."

- "Can I show you something?" she said.

- "Something?"

- "It'll only take a minute."

She led me out of the building, and across the street. There was nothing there but a three-story parking garage. It was maybe one-third full during the week, but it was almost completely empty now.

- "Abby?" She had started climbing the stairs to the second level.

- "Not far now." she said.

Okay, I followed her. Maybe I shouldn't have. It could have been an ambush, or a trap. But who would want to hurt me, other than Ramon?

Yeah, there was another possibility. But Abby? She hadn't said a word to me all week, much less made eye contact.

The second storey was deserted. No cars, no people. There was nothing here but asphalt and crumbling concrete.

And Abby, who was undoing the zipper of her bodysuit. She wasn't wearing anything beneath it.

- "Nobody comes here." she said. "It's a great place to fuck."

I didn't care for Abby's face, but I had no objection to the breasts she revealed. I'd also gone without for quite a while. And as far as I knew, it wasn't an infraction to have sex on our free time. In which case...

I reached for her tit, and felt its weight. I dipped my head, and kissed her nipple, before taking it into my mouth. Okay, that decided me: she had great tits, and superb nipples.

Abby was wearing tear-away track pants. She tore, and they went away. She had absolutely nothing on under them. Her navel was pierced, and she had two curious tattoos, just below her panty line, one on either side of her mound. The first was a scorpion - a curious choice, unless it was her astrological sign. On the other side, she had three stars.

Why have tattoos there? Why have tattoos at all? Only members of strange little sub-cultures still got tattoos. But I shook my head, to clear it. I wasn't interested in Abby's tattoos; I was looking at her clean-shaven pussy.

I knelt down, and kissed the area between her navel and her mound.

- "That's right." she said. "Get that pussy."

It was hardly an endearing comment, but then, this wasn't a particularly romantic encounter. She'd brought me here to fuck. So I gave her pussy a quick kiss and a couple of licks before I turned her around.

Abby had a very nice ass. Her blonde hair was so long that it nearly reached down to the upper slopes of her buttocks. She bent over, bracing herself against one of the concrete pillars.

I banged her. Wham, bam, thank you Ma'am. I gave her all of the affection she'd shown me - which was to say, none. She'd brought me up here for a fuck, and that was exactly what she got.

After two and a half months of chastity, I'm surprised that I lasted as long as I did. I should have been basting her insides after a minute or two, but I gave her a pretty good drubbing. I don't know if she came. I didn't care. I just fucked her until I blew my load inside her.

She probably enjoyed it, because she invited me back to the parking garage on Sunday afternoon, for a repeat performance.

I had no idea, at the time, that I would be seeing Abby again, under less than ideal circumstances.

***

The 10th and final month of training was almost anti-climactic. Oh, it was tough enough; they continued to run us hard, and work us to exhaustion. But the trainers seemed to be more concerned with finding our weaknesses, if we had any. When they did, they assigned remedial training. For the first time this year, the trainees could actually feel as if our instructors were finally on our side.

I wasn't distracted, and I avoided forming any connections. I did not intend to make a mistake at this stage.

At the end of the month, there was no graduation ceremony. There was no ritual of any kind, except for a handshake from the trainers as they handed us our immediate orders. We were on duty Friday night, and then on Saturday morning transport arrived to take us to our next destinations.

It was disappointing at the time, but I came to understand it later. ISEC doesn't have graduation parties. In the first place, they don't want agents to get to know too many more agents. The vast majority of trainees would never see each other again, much less maintain relationships. It was just as my original recruiter had said: the less you know, and the fewer people you know, the better.

It was also an introduction to the way ISEC works. When you do a good job, you

may

get a pat on the back from your handler. There may be a commendation added to your file - which you will never see. Nobody else will ever know what you did. No party, no publicity, no fame or recognition. Get used to it.

I was taken - alone - back to Camp 6. Of all the places I could've been headed, that would have been just about my last guess. It was a not a pleasure to see Trainers GT and MD waiting there for me. They were the two sadists who had made my month at Camp 6 a living hell.

- "Welcome back, Jawbreaker." said MD.

- "My name is Thorn."

- "Not for long." she said. "Go inside."

I went in, and found Major Renfro. This time, he wasn't wearing a uniform with 'Parker' on it. He was sitting at a makeshift desk, with a single piece of paper on it, face down.

- "Sit down." he said.

He gave me another long look over.

"I saw that you took my advice over the past few months, and kept your head down. You also steered clear of female entanglements, which shows that you can keep it in your pants if you have to. Except for that time in the parking garage. That wasn't contrary to any rules, though, so we won't hold it against you."

I had a hundred questions, but knew better than to ask them. Renfro scratched his ear.

"If you're wondering why we're here, it's so that we can finish your testing."

I actually opened my mouth to speak. The first words out of my mouth would've been 'But I...'. Not words you want to use with a major.

"You have very good UC scores - except when you were here at Camp 6. Trainer GT reported that you only fought defensively, while Trainer MD said - and I quote - 'He fought like a pussy.' Both trainers concluded that you weren't trying to win, but only to avoid further punishment. I need to know if you actually can compete against good fighters."

Major Renfro tapped the piece of paper in front of him, and then turned it over.

"See the names on there, son?"

I did. There were three names there. Major Renfro. Trainee Thorn. And right below that, my real name.

"I've been appointed your handler, Lieutenant. Congratulations on your commission. But your work as an ISEC agent is entirely up to me - and I now have serious doubts about your fighting abilities. You do well with women, and you're not stupid, but..." He spread his hands. "What do you suggest I do, to alleviate these... concerns?"

Just because you know the train is coming doesn't mean that you can get off the tracks - especially not if you're tied to them. There were only four people at Camp 6.

- "I could fight the trainers again, Sir. And win."

- "Really? You think you could beat them?"

- "Yes, Sir."

- "Alright. When do you propose we start?"

- "Could I have something to eat? And a shower?"

Major Renfro thought it over. "Two hours."

I ate a light meal, and had my shower - plus time to think. I had never come close to beating either of them, largely because I hadn't tried to do anything but minimize the damage they were doing to me, and avoid another (or more serious) punishment.

Could I actually beat them? I'm sure that I'd sounded a lot more confident than I was.

- "Who do you want first?" the Major asked me.

- "Trainer GT, Sir." He was a big enough guy, but I had a height and reach advantage. He was also a little bit less vicious than MD.

- "Try to avoid injuries." said the Major. "Begin."

I immediately stepped back, and went into a defensive posture. This was exactly how 90% of my sparring matches with GT had begun. He advanced, and threw a jab. This was his pattern: an exploratory jab or two, after which he would throw a leg kick or a head kick.

I swayed away from the first jab, and blocked the second. The moment I did that, I was already moving forward. He was going for a head kick, but his knee made contact with my arm, because I was already inside his guard. The knee hurt, but not that badly, because he was quickly trying to pull it back and regain his balance.

Too late. He got his hands up to block my first strike, but as his leg came down, my left hand caught him on the side of the head. His hands came up too slowly, and slightly in the wrong place, as I clipped him on the other side of the face.

As he covered up, I dipped and hammered him in the side. He never did catch up. He'd never seen me throw a combination, or a flurry of combinations. I threw about a dozen shots, landing four good ones.

GT went down. I took two quick steps towards him, and then jumped over him. Then I backed away.