Saving Nightlock

3. Incompetent Minions

September 25, 06:50 A.M.

Tallahassee, Florida, U.S.A.

Blakemore House, Number 16 on St. Lawrence Street, Training Pit in the Basement.

IRENE.

"Very funny."

Isabella, our newest trainee and Cedric's daughter, looks down at herself, then back at me, then back at herself. "Obey" reads her yellow t-shirt.

"What?"

"...Nothing. Get to your position."

Without further ado, Isabella hops down into the training pit with me and takes up a defensive position. In situations like this, rulers make excellent tools for trainers. I use mine to whack Isabella's shins until she moves them apart to shoulder-width. Another whack to her left shoulder straightens her posture. Satisfied, I run and jump out of the pit.

Settling on my swivel chair, I type in a few keywords to start the simulation. Almost immediately, I hear a gasp of pain as one of the first paint balls hits Isabella. Thankfully, she's wearing enough body armor that it shouldn't bruise...but then again, you never know with her.

"Duck, you stupid kwai!" I roar at the stupid girl who's forgotten the routine again. She blinks, disoriented, but drops to the ground just as the basket-ball sized paint ball soars over her body.

I flip a switch upward and walk over to her slight figure, checking her for any injuries. She seems fine, but I think I'll send her to get a check-up with Xena later anyway.

"45 seconds this time. Acceptable, but if you keep ignoring my instructions, you are going to get hurt. You should know better."

Isabella gives me a look of exasperation that I know all too well by now. "I'm fine, so stop making such a big deal out of it," she says, brushing the lint off of her short hair.

"You almost got flattened by a giant ball and you want me to relax?" I say in disbelief, wondering how anyone could be so irresponsible.

"Look, I'm not going to be in the field much anyway, so what's the point?"

My lips flatten into a straight line. She's just like him. "On the contrary. As a translator and computer science geek, you'll be needed quite often. As a Nightlock Operative, you are not allowed to be the weakest link in our chain. No one is."

"I'm not weak."

"Then prove! Even the cooks and medics in a regular army have to go through basic training. Whether they like it or not is unimportant.

"Ok, ok, I get it, could you please calm down now?"

"I certainly won't calm down until you have learned your lessons here properly and neither should you! Learn to obey commands."

Raising an eyebrow, she gestures at her shirt. I roll my eyes, but can't be bothered to respond to her provocation.

"Go get showered. We need to be at school in an hour."

She pushes her glasses back on her face and sighs, but walks up the stairs and out of my basement without another word. Giving my own little sigh, I turn back to the computer screen fixed to the wall and begin updating her progress.

"Hey," says a voice, and I turn my head to see Jemima walking down with a huge gym bag on her shoulder. Despite our little field trip yesterday, she looks well rested. "What's up?"

"The ceiling," I say sarcastically, "Nothing much else."

"Well, someone is in a bad mood. Wonder what it could be?"