C.A.R.M.A

4

When you toss and turn and soak your sheets with cold sweat in the middle of the night, you have options. You could stay in those sheets, feeling like they might grow a mind of their own and pin you down like a straight jacket, or you get up.
I chose the latter, which was why in the early morning hours before the biggest case of my life, I could be found in HQ's gym. Located in the basement of our building, the low ceiling and fluorescent lights always gave it a rather gritty feel.
Knuckles wrapped, blood pumping, with 3 hours of sleep, taking on a punching bag like it was the mission. Another obstacle to the top.
Still, I kept striking the bag. One hit after another, letting a lethal focus over take me. A skill I was forged to carry out.
The bag swayed and morphed before my eyes. It was Max, it was Taylor, it was the first man I killed, it was my parents. Each punch, each drop of sweat that hit the ground around me felt like a salvation. A focusing.
Vaguely, I heard the door banged open and closed with a snap, as a blurry figure I didn't bother to focus on walked closer.
Until the figure stepped directly behind the punching bag, reached out and held it steady.
I met Taylor's gaze while I stuck again. One, two, one two.
She rolled her eyes at me, and walked straight into the sparring arena. I didn't turn, instead I kept my steady rhythm of punches rolling.
"Well, since I know you're picturing my face, would you like to come and actually hit me?", Taylor said, impatience lacing every syllable.
I sighed, leaning my sweaty face onto the bag, swaying slightly with it. Glancing down at my watch confirmed my suspicions. 
"Why are you awake at 4am?", I asked, turning to face her.
Taylor had her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised, not a hair out of place. She had a wondrous way of always looking larger than life to me.
"There's a reason I picked you as my protege -", she began.
"Half protege", I interrupted bitterly. Glaring up at her, two things I never dared to do before.
Taylor stared at me, like I was no more than a child on the verge of a temper tantrum. "Well, you have certainly learned to clap back over the years on Rhode Island."
I drew my knife and stabbed it into the side of the punching bag. Immature? Probably, but I didn't want to be tempted as I stalked over to Taylor and joined her.
"I'm glad to see I won't be stabbed today", she smirked at me.
"There's still time, it's only 4 in the morning after all", I smirked back. And slowly, we started circling each other. A dance she taught me. The one she has honed to her idea of perfection since I was a child.
"What's kept you up all night, Thea", Taylor said in mock sympathy, daring me to strike first. "Weight of the world crashing down onto you?"
I let out a bitter, short laugh. "Were you expecting all smiles and thank yous? After what Max did -"
Taylor clicked her tongue in distaste, silencing me. "You are a naive child to think I would even for a moment consider your break up when it comes to the greater good of CARMA."
I lunged, just as she thought I would. Taylor easily side-stepped my jab, long ponytail flaring as she spun behind me, landing a blow
to my lower back.
The force dazed me, knocking me into the large elastic liners. "Kidney shot? Seriously?" I rasped out.
I turned, only to find Taylor winding for her next blow. Ducking under her elbow, I avoided the next strike and took advantage of the momentary surprise fluttering on Taylor's face.
"Why?" I spat out. "Why now? Why with him?"
Taylor didn't seem inclined to answer, instead she took a deep breath and sprang once more. Raining down a storm of quick punches and kicks, forcing me to take the defensive position.
She landed a blow to my stomach, the wind leaving me in a quick whoosh, while Taylor slid down and kicked my legs out from underneath me.
I hit the ground hard, and Taylor's face swarmed in my slightly blurry vision, crouching down next to me.
"Because I'm tired", Taylor said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Because I want to teach a course here on criminal psychology with Jim and go to a normal house when the clock hits 5pm."
I stared up at her, taken aback by her frankness.
Taylor sighed, pushing to her feet. "You aren't ready to take this on by yourself. You need him, or you will fail. On this mission and beyond"
I rose to my own feet, "You didn't even give me a chance."
"Then tell me", Taylor commanded. "Tell me right now why it should be you over him. Over anyone."
I lifted my chin, "I always believed I could."
And you watched my crawl, with my teeth bared toward every test thrown at me. Day after day of training, of hands soaked in my blood and others. Wit sharpened like a blade to take what's mine.
"And you know I will", I let my unspoken words simmer in my gaze.
"It's not enough. This is happening, with or without you", Taylor replied with equal chill in her words. "There are plenty of others that would cheerfully take your place in this."
I snorted. "Is that a threat?"
"No, it's a promise", Taylor turned, heading for the door.
She stalked past the punching bag, when I struck, throwing my second knife. Exactly when Taylor turned, throwing her knife as well.
Both stuck targets with muted thumps. Mine hitting my desired target, the bag swayed from the impact of the knife, six inches to right, but equally level with Taylor's knee.
I glanced down, six inches before my feet, Taylor's knife stuck out from the arena mat. The hilt still vibrating from the extra kinetic energy.
"Don't forget who taught you to carry two knives everywhere you go", Taylor called over her shoulder once she reached the door.
-    - 
"You look awful", Becca told me by way of greeting as I stumbled into our kitchenette.
"It's because I'm talking to you, not caffeinating myself", I replied.
She stuck her tongue out as she reached for another mug, filing it before passing it to me over the counter.
Becca and I shared a small apartment style room when we stayed at HQ. It was simple, a small living space with the kitchenette attached, branching around the corner to three doors that marked our bedrooms. One for Becca, one for me, and one for Quinn. A Questioner that was a year ahead of Becca and I. And was the final member of our trio.
The middle levels of the building were full of rooms designed for this purpose. Some are permanently occupied by teachers or other CARMA workers.
"Taylor just kicked my ass", I gave her an overview of my sparring exercise. As my friend does, she listened intently. As if we didn't have a huge case we should be reading up on.
Becca whistled, "It's good to know she still has it in her. Especially, if she can still take down the legendary Thea."
"Oh shut up", I raised my coffee mug to hide my smile.
"Don't give me that shit", she poured more coffee into her mug, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. "You are a legend here, my dear. It would be fun for us little people if you'd remember that every now and then."
"Please", I said, mimicking her eyeroll. "You were leading the meeting last night, everyone looked to you for how to proceed."
"That's not true", the look Olivia gave me flashed in between us, glimmering in both our memories.
I shoved it aside, hopping off the stool, swearing as I glanced at my watch, " I still need to shower."
"Yea, you smell like sweat and ass-whooping."
"First the pep talk on what a legend I am, now the mockery comes", I called, heading to my bathroom.
She told me something I could do in the bathroom that made me laugh in earnest.
I scrubbed at my skin in the shower, trying to turn over the events of the morning in my mind, but found myself reminiscing about the time I met my friend.
A brutal winter was gripping Seattle. The unresting rain continuously stuck the windows of the training room.
That day all the new recruits were due to start hand to hand combat.
Our instructor walked in, trailed by a small girl. The latter turned and held my curious gaze.
A ghostly pale, too thin face with haunted eyes started at me. And her eyes lit up with feral delight at a new challenge.
"I'll fight her", Becca declared.
That was also the day she broke my nose. My introduction to fist fitting began with a near feral girl straight from the unforgiving city streets.
But I wouldn't have it any other way, not because of the friendship that came from the fight but for the other harder cards I was dealt.
Today, I ran my hands over my scar flecked body. Recalling the accidents, recalling the pain endured for this moment. This final mission.
Our quick team meeting passed in a blur of nods and final assessments before Max and I were ushered into another sleek black car. A typical rainstorm sprinkled overhead, with a gentle fog coating the morning. Max and I were discreetly armed to the teeth and dressed to kill.
Max kept sneaking glances in my direction until I finally snapped at him, "what?"