Movement Under Fire (closed for Ikely)

[TheOneThatGotAway]

Name: Caraway Milano
Ethnic Background: Chinese (Mother) + Italian/Irish (Father)

Physical Attributes:
5'7" - 145 lbs - Medium Frame - Athletic Build
36C - 29" waist - 38" hips
Dark Brown Hair (almost Black) - Layered at chin level
Light Olive Skin - Dark Hazel Eyes
Current Age: 21
___________________________________________________________
She survived.
She almost couldn't believe it, but she did.

Caraway Milano had spent the last nine weeks at Fort Jackson, SC waking up at the ungodly hour of 0430 only to get yelled at, and ordered to: run, jump, pushup, sit-up, climb, rappel, crawl, spar, learn, and clean. Not always in that order, but there was always a high emphasis on the running, pushups, sit-ups, and/or whatever physical activity tickled the drill sergeant's fancy at the time.

And, let's not forget the random inspections, that almost always led to some sort of physical "punishment", as well as 0200 starlit obstacle runs. She sure as shit wasn't going to miss those.

When Cara enlisted, she thought she was in decent shape.
She couldn't have been more wrong, and the Army proved this to her. Repeatedly.

She ran Track in high school, and practiced Wushu almost all her life. Even with those under her belt, nothing could've prepared her for the utter physical and mental exhaustion she went through. Almost every day of the first four weeks, she was certain that her limbs were going to fall right off, as her body scrambled to recover and adapt to the new, intense regimen.

That wasn't the case now. Coming up to the end of the 10-week Basic Training program, Cara was the fittest she had ever been, and stronger to boot. Right now, she was gunning down the track in hopes of clocking in a 16:00 two-mile run. She had managed 72 sit ups, and 60 pushups within the 2 minutes allotted per event. If she made at least 16:24, on this run, she would earn the Physical Fitness badge for scoring 90 points or more per event on the Army Physical Fitness Test.

It was never about the badge though. It was always about her own personal goal setting in physical competition. Find the standard or record, and beat it. She dug deep in the last 250m and opened up into a full sprint. As she crossed the line, her end time was called, and she slowed to round off to the table for bib number drop off.

While she was catching her breath, she heard her name being called, over by the cool down area. It was her battle buddy, Dana Fitzgerald. "D" was a few years older than Cara, and had finished her run in a little over 18 minutes. This was a vast improvement from her initial time of 25 minutes before Basic.

She jogged over to D, and gave her a hug, before folding into a standing hamstring stretch.

"Saw you open up the throttle on that last stretch," Dana whistled. "Think you got your 16:00? I'll be surprised if you didn't."

"I dunno. My ankle is still bothering me from the other week. It was a little achey when I started, but subsided as I kept going. We'll see! Oh, oh, shhh-shh!!" Cara started getting excited as one of the drill sergeants began calling names and times.

"Private Martinez, 18:03!...Private Granger, 17:26!...Private James, 19:30!...Private Milano, 15:32!...." the drill sergeant called out.

Both Cara and Dana were jumping with joy, and crying out in excitement as her time was called; everyone around them congratulating Cara on her great finish time.

In the middle of all the commotion, the voice of Captain Daniel Jacobs cut through, "Private Milano! In my office!"

Cara perked up at hearing her name, and answered promptly, "Sir, yes, sir!" She jogged past her comrades, rolling her eyes as they jeered, school-yard-style, "Ohhh, someone's in trouble...!" The jeers soon became whoops of laughter as she smirked and flashed them the middle finger without looking back.

There was someone else with the Captain. She had seen him a few times before, during training. He had the large body frame of a football player, and was always dressed in high end suits, most likely custom tailored to accommodate his sheer size. It was hard to get a read on him since he always wore dark sunglasses, but when she noticed his presence, he seemed to be doing more than simply observing...he was assessing...something.

Cara trailed behind the two men until Captain Jacobs paused to check one of the conference rooms that seemed to be vacant. "Actually, let's use this room instead, there's more space. Have a seat, Private."

 

[Ikely]

Character appearance: http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mah77zJJer1qdc5tro1_500.jpg

Cam Ward had been in the same position, proned out behind a small berm of mud and vegetation, for 36 hours. His spotter, Derek Holland had been in the same position right beside him.

They were in the Republic of the Congo, deep in the Cuvette region. It was hot, Africa hot, and sweat continually rolled off of his brow, stinging his eyes.

He blinked twice then a third time to clear his vision and again placed his eye to the 10x42 Leupold Ultra M3A sniper scope attached to the SOCOM M-24 bolt action rifle.
In the scope Cam saw a mud, wood, and corrugated metal building. It was surrounded by other smaller buildings.

A beat up old Range Rover, probably from 1975, was parked out front. The vehicle had arrived 2 hours ago.

Cam was hoping that their target would present himself shortly. Then, Cam would terminate that target and Derek and he could get the fuck out of the steamy hot jungle which they were using for cover.

“Give the range again to the front door.” Cam whispered to Derek.

Derek checked again with the range finder and whispered back, “436 meters…wind speed is 4 knots south, south west.”

Cam did the conversion in his head. A 4 and a half mile per hour wind blowing right to left as he looked at the target area.

Cam had already made the adjustments but still needed to hear the information.

Cam and Derek were here to eliminate Saheim Al-Zeid.

Al-Zeid was from Yemen, and was the Al-Qaeda representative to the Al-Shabaab group of Islamic militants in Africa. Al-Zeid had planned, organized and executed several terror attacks on the continent which had resulted in the deaths of countless innocent men, women and children. But his biggest mistake was accidently killing a deep undercover operative of the National Intelligence and Reconnaissance Agency. NIRA was the totally black agency doing all the operations that the other agency could not or would not do because they might get…messy. They did not want to have to answer for the actions to a senate committee hearing so NIRA was created totally from the black ops budget to handle the ugly stuff. NIRA was also Cam’s employer.

Cam had been recruited straight out of Afghanistan while in Special Forces, Operational Detachment Delta.

Cam had gone through their training and excelled at it.

Since the time he came online with NIRA he had been to many countries and had eliminated 100’s of terror leaders, saving countless lives. He had been paid handsomely for his work and in theory he should be very happy. He wanted for nothing, materially.
But the job had cost him. A very high price had been paid.

His wife had up and left him, taking his 7 year old daughter with her.

Now, all he wanted to do was spend time with his daughter. It had affected him so badly; he announced this was going to be his last mission. He was leaving the agency and going to try and get a job teaching at the community college in his hometown.

But then a good friend asked him to at least consider maybe switching to the training division. It would give him somewhat normal hours, and he would not have to leave the country much.

After speaking with the head of the training division, he took the position of mentor for candidates who had completed the basic course. His job would be to work 1 on 1 with a candidate in fine tuning their operational skills and making them ready for the field.

The important thing was he would have a lot more time to spend with his daughter.

“Cam…that’s our boy” Derek hissed

Cam studied the image through the scope and got positive identification on the target.

“Range 428 meters…wind has died down to 2 knots southwest…” Derek was keeping up the stream of information to the shooter.

Cam began easing the trigger back.

The target stood on the far side of the vehicle hood. He presented a clear upper body target.

Cam adjusted the crosshairs on the target, and eased the trigger back some more.

Cam inhaled, and then let it out slowly. At the bottom of the breath he held of an instant, and then squeezed the trigger fully.

The rifle roared and the 150 grain projectile left the barrel at 2,800 feet per second.

The round entered Al-Zeid’s skull at his left ear with 1344 foot pounds of energy. The skull deformed the round and sent it off center, exploding out of the dead man’s right eye, and then burying itself in the mud wall of the building.

Saheim Al-Zeid’s life of terror, of murdering innocent people, of terrorizing woman and children came to a violent, bloody end. He got off light and never knew what killed him.

Cam and Derek remained in position for 4 more hours as the Al-Shabaab terrorists roamed around looking for the sniper. When dark came, the search ended and Cam and
Derek were able to get back to their base and were soon on a flight back to the U. S. A.

Cam would get a week of off time to spend with his daughter then he had to report to Camp Foster, located east of Fort Stockton, Texas, and the training ground for Section 94.

 

[TheOneThatGotAway]

It was a fairly large room that housed an oblong table with 12 seats. At her captain's command, she took one of the seats in the middle of the table, as she watched the two men walk around and sit opposite her. The unfamiliar man removed his sunglasses, and tucked them in his inside pocket before taking a seat next to the Captain.

She took in the visual of the men across from her. The stranger's blonde "high and tight" haircut, framed blue eyes that were set in a chiseled face. He may as well have "All American" stamped across his forehead. Whereas, Captain Jacobs was older, with a salt and pepper "flat top" cut, dark eyes, and strong features that carried over well with age. Both carried themselves with a stature and aura that brooked no nonsense.

Jacobs began with the introductions, "Private Caraway Milano, I'd like you to meet Agent Garrett Donovan. He's with NIRA, the National Intelligence and Reconnaissance Agency."

Cara extended her hand across the table, "It's a pleasure to meet you Agent Donovan." She watched as his hand practically swallowed hers. "The pleasure is mine," he replied, nodding cordially.

The captain continued, "Congratulations on getting through Basic, and great job on your Physical Fitness Test. You've been working hard Private, and it shows."

She smiled and nodded, "Thank you very much, sir." Behind Cara's simple answer, her mind was analyzing everything. Should she have been aware of NIRA? The name didn't sound familiar. Could she be in trouble? Not enough to bring in another agency, she decided, well hoped. Agent Donovan's piercing blue eyes seemed to be assessing her. Why was she here?

As if he were reading her mind, Jacobs asked, "Why are you here, Private Milano?"

Cara blinked a few times, carefully wording her answer, "Sir? You called me in. With all due respect, I was hoping you could tell me."

Jacobs chuckled, while Agent Donovan's expression remained neutral. "Let me rephrase, then. Why did you join the Army?"

Her eyes darted around the room, slightly confused. Was this a joke? Maybe she was being Punk'd. "To be…all that I could be, sir?"

The captain shook his head. "At ease, Private. This isn't a trick or a test on your loyalty with the Army." He plopped a file on the table and started reading off her personal achievements and standardized/differential aptitude test results from before she had enlisted, as well as what she had accomplished during her time at Basic. "There's no question that you're smart and capable. We're simply curious as to why you joined the military."

She sighed a bit and shrugged, "Honestly, sir, I just had a different set of cards dealt to me right out of high school. Poor timing of things, I guess. So, it was either this or wait tables."

Cara's mother had been diagnosed with cancer, at the start of her Senior year in high school. She had received partial scholarships to high profile colleges, but they weren't enough, and she would have never left her mother while she was sick. She took a few classes at a nearby community college and worked 3 jobs to maintain finances. When her mother passed during her second year of schooling, Cara broke down and fell into depression. After months of self-isolation, and finally coming to grips with the fact that she had no prospects, she found herself at an Army Recruiter's office.

Jacobs seemed to accept that answer and continued, "We noticed you selected Intelligence and Combat Support for your Advanced Individual Training. Why not Medical? With your prior experience as an EMT, you'd be a shoe-in."

She was thankful for the detour away from memory lane. "Yes, sir, I did. I probably would do well in Medical, but I don't think it's something I'd enjoy doing every day." Cara cleared her throat before continuing, "I'm actually more interested in Combat, but as we all know, that's not quite an option for me. I figured ICS would be the closest I'd get."

Captain Jacobs and Agent Donovan seemed to exchange a knowing glance. Donovan spoke this time, "What if I were to tell you, that I'm here to present you that very opportunity?"

Cara's brows jumped to her hairline for a moment, "I would be all ears, sir."

"Good. Everything you need to know, is in this dossier that we've prepared for you to review." He slid a folder in front of Cara and explained, "NIRA is one of the elite special ops agencies in the U.S. We're currently recruiting agents for the field, and have been watching you for the past few weeks..."

Jacobs cut in, smiling, "That show you put on with Private Hodgins a few weeks ago may have had something to do with piquing their interest in you as well."

She cringed inwardly, not realizing a senior officer had been in the midst. Hodgins had challenged everyone within earshot that he could finish the 700m, 15-event, endurance obstacle course faster than anyone else. Not being one to back away from a challenge, she took him up on it. She made great headway, and had the lead by a second on the first half of the course. However, upon landing from a jump into a trench, she felt her ankle roll in slightly, causing her to falter in her stride. It was all Hodgins needed to speed past, and take the lead, but she had stayed on his heels the whole time.

Donovan continued, "Needless to say, we think you have a lot of raw talent and potential, and would like to extend an invitation for you to undergo our training program. If you pass, you'll be eligible to work directly in the field. Unlike here, where you'll most likely get stuck with a desk job as an analyst. Not that there's anything wrong with that, of course."

"Of course…" Cara murmured, as she perused the dossier. "The training program lasts 12 weeks? How does it compare to Basic?"

Agent Donovan met her eyes, "It's much more intense. In every aspect."

She tried not to flinch, as she recounted the past, two and a half, grueling months. Having both her physical and mental limits pushed to the brink. "When do you need my answer by?"

Donovan replied, "Ideally, before you leave this room. Though we would be willing to give you the evening to think it over, if you deemed it necessary. Typically with opportunities like this, a person of your background is either in or out. Simple as that."

Cara licked her lips, which were suddenly dry. She could read between the lines. 'A person of your background', referring to the lack of familial ties holding her down. She began to weigh her options. "So, if I were to accept...?"

"We fly out tonight to NIRA's training grounds, and I brief you on what to expect during the trip."

"And if I were to decline...?"

This time, Captain Jacobs answered, "You graduate Basic in the next few days, and fulfill your contract with the Army."

She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "Alright, worse case scenario: I train with NIRA, and for whatever reason, get dismissed from the program. Will I be able to return to the Army?"

Captain Jacobs answered again, "I suppose it would depend on the reason for your dismissal, but for the most part, yes. There will always be room for people like you to serve our country."

'Well, fuck it. Possibly a chance of a lifetime. There's nothing to lose, right?' she thought to herself as she continued her initial scan of the dossier. She looked at her captain, "You're familiar with their program, and support me training under them?"

He nodded, "We wouldn't be in this room, if that wasn't the case."

Cara slowly pushed herself away from the table, then stood up. The two men across from her followed suit. She smiled and extended her hand to shake Captain Jacobs' hand, then Agent Donovan's.

"Thank you both for your consideration. I'll pack my things."

 

[Ikely]

Cam and Derek made it out, alive.

Almost 24 hours later they were back in the states. Cam went straight to Florida where his ex and his daughter now lived.

He had an amazing time and his ex-wife actually assisted and even joined in the time Cam spent with the little girl. They were almost like…like a family again.

But soon the time ran out and just like the past, Cam got his stuff and went out to accomplish the next mission.

Cam was glad that he was wearing his mirrored Oakley sun glasses so his daughter did not see the tears as she told him she was going to miss him and to come home soon.

He went to the Air Force Base and boarded the Boeing 737 that was marked with the logo of Cannon Airways. Cannon Airways was a cover. There was no such thing as Cannon Airways. These were NIRA aviation crews flying the airliner. The agency created the fake airline to transport operatives to various locations in the U. S. as well as foreign countries.

They flew straight to Camp Foster which had a 10,000 foot runway, which was capable of handling any type of aircraft.

Cam and other operatives, agents, and employees of the agency who were on the flight deplaned and Cam made his way to the in processing station. He was now a new employee. He was the newest mentor in the training division.

The candidates would be put through a strenuous 12 week basic instruction training period. It involved classes every day and physical training in the mornings as well as in the evenings. The candidates were tested every Friday on the material that had been taught during the week and the minimum score for candidates was 85%. Anything less and the candidate is dismissed.

Following the 12 week basic training, each candidate was assigned a mentor for close, much more specific, 1 on 1 instruction.

This was Cam’s new position in the agency.

Cam was soon processed in and after a week of training on what was expected he was given the next week off to await the new batch of candidates.

The mentors would be observing the candidates in basic. They were not allowed to speak to or in any way communicate with candidates until they had completed the basic instruction.

On the day before the candidates were to arrive to Camp Foster, Cam was called to the project manager’s office.

He went in and saw his longtime friend, Garrett Donovan.

“Holy Shit, dude!! I thought you were dead! I heard you got killed in Iran.” Cam said as he moved to Garrett.

The 2 warriors hugged then nodded to each other.

“No, I didn’t die…it was close but I made it.” Garrett said laughing

“What the fuck are you doing now?” Cam said sitting down beside him

“I have been out recruiting our replacements.” Garrett said smiling. He then added, “And when I heard you were mentoring now, well, I got you a good one.” Donovan now smiled real big.

“What the fuck, man. Did you get me some retarded guy or a cripple?” Cam said laughing

“Nah, brother nothing like that. You know that they would never allow me to do that too you.” Donovan had what Cam would describe as a shit eating grin.

“Shit, dude. What did you do to me?” Cam asked

“Do you remember that time in Thailand, when you totally fucked me over and left me with the Thai Lady Boy? Do you remember how you laughed when I told you about getting an amazing blowjob from what I thought was a hottie then looking down and seeing the guy jacking himself off while he blew me? Do you remember how you laughed and laughed? Well, payback is a bitch!” Donovan laughed as he tossed a file folder at Cam. “Here is your assigned candidate in 12 weeks.” Donovan was trying not
fall out of his chair laughing.

Cam picked up the manila folder marked TOP SECRET.

The first thing he read on the outside of the folder was, Milano, Caraway F/21

Trying not to reach over and punch his giggling friend in the gut, Cam just hissed, “You mother fucker…”

 

[TheOneThatGotAway]

((This is a quick side scene between Cara and Agent Donovan. A bit of comic relief and character dev after the uber detailed intro posts. Cara's POV story will continue in the post after this one.))

After a quick shower, it took Cara all of 10 minutes to pack her duffel. She was about to don her Army Combat Uniform, but as she thought about it, she changed into her civilian clothes instead. Going from Army BCT to NIRA's training program, this would probably be one of the last times she would be able to wear something as simple as jeans and a t-shirt, which she noticed were a little loose from the last time she wore them. She slipped her feet into her half-beaten Chucks, and strode for the door.
*****
Agent Donovan just about did a double take as he watched the young woman approach the town car he was leaning against. He was expecting Pvt. Milano to be in her ACU when she returned, not faded jeans that slung low on her hips, and a white v-neck shirt that hugged her curves. He shook his head as he tore his gaze away, opening the door for her. As she stepped inside, the driver took her duffel and packed it in the trunk.

When he took his seat beside her, he handed off the dossier that she had begun reading earlier. Donovan slipped into "recruiter-mode", going through the motions of explaining NIRA's history as she nodded intermittently along with what he was saying, while simultaneously scanning the documents. Then, five minutes in, her stomach let its presence be known to everyone in the car.

Cara's cheeks flushed crimson, "Sorry, haven't eaten in a few hours…"

Donovan chuckled, "That's alright. We can pick something up on the way, and you can eat it during the flight-"

Cara seized the opportunity for real food like a hyena, "Oh man, I'd just about blow both of you right now for a slice of New York pizza," she sighed dreamily, before shrugging, "but I'll settle for a proper burger. No fast food shit either. Stuff's nasty." She grinned when she noticed Donovan was looking at her sternly. "What? You're basically transporting me from one level of Hell to another. Let me have a 'death row meal'!"

Agent Donovan was prepared for a lot of things. He was not prepared for the brat sitting beside him. He rolled his eyes and made an exasperated sound as he pulled his phone out. As much as he wanted to argue, she did have a point. He called the Corner Tavern which was on the way to the airport, and placed an order. Looking at the driver's rear view, he barked, "You can stop looking for pizza places, Stiletti! Jesus. And you-" he glared at Cara. "Not one word of my generosity reaches NIRA. You understand?" He straightened his tie and jacket, with a cocky grin, "I have a reputation to uphold."

Caraway laughed and smiled impishly, as she made the motion of sealing her lips and throwing the key away. She dropped the window and gazed out at the sunset and trees passing by, as she lost herself in deep thought. Agent Donovan peered over at at her, while her attention went elsewhere. Gone was the soldier that had continued to impress him time and time again, over the past few weeks. In her stead was a young woman grasping onto a few moments of "normalcy" before diving head first into a training program that would seek to find every weak point and break her.

There was no knowing whether or not Pvt. Milano would successfully complete NIRA's training, but if she did, one thing was for certain. Cam Ward was going to have his hands full.

 

[Ikely]

It was 0430 hours. There was a slight chill in the air but the candidates were in formation for the morning PT. They had spent much of the previous day in the conference room getting lectured on procedures and the horrible things that would happen to them if they dropped themselves from the program or were dismissed and decided to talk about what was happening to the media. Everything about this program was classified Cosmic Top Secret. Every candidate signed a non-disclosure form that stated if they spoke to anyone or exposed any aspect of Section 94 of the National Intelligence and Reconnaissance Agency they would be sent to federal prison for life.

The candidates had signed paperwork of all types, then went and drew equipment which included the PT t-shirt and running shorts.

As the lead PT instructor was explaining what was going to happen, Cam stood back and tried to find his candidate.

He found her on the 3rd rank.

Cam found himself staring at her. She was quit stunning to look at. He remembered what Donavon had said and wondered if the person was actually a guy. If the candidate was actually a guy, he was the cutest guy he ever saw and thought for a moment he might turn gay.

Cam smiled and chuckled at his thought.

The group was put through the calisthenics then formed up to run.

Cam, who was wearing his running gear, was going to join in on the run. There were a couple of other mentors who were going to run as well.

The run was a standard 3 mile run through the dessert. The 4 mile timed runs were going to be done on Fridays.

Cam nestled into a nice pace, trailing along behind the group. He had a nice view of his candidate’s tight little butt in her running shorts.

They started to near the end of the run and some of the candidates were falling off the pace. Soon she was out in front and pulling away. Cam decided he would move up alongside of her.

He maneuvered up to her and then alongside.

She pulled ahead of him by a few steps.

Cam matched her. They continued like that until they were within 500 meters of the finish.

Cam then started his sprint to the finish and realized she was right with him. He pushed his body harder and she matched him step for step.

They were both in all out sprint to the finish line, and Cam decided he was not going to let her beat him to the end.

 

[TheOneThatGotAway]

Same shit, different day.

It was the ass crack of dawn, and Cara was going through the calisthenics warmup before a 3 mile run. Everything was the same for the most part, but there were definitely some distinct differences.

Instead of being in South Carolina, she was now in BFE, west Texas, about to run in the desert. Rather than being called out by rank or name, she was now referred to as "Candidate" or "#207" - her assigned identification number given to her when she was processed, which was to be visibly pinned to her uniform at all times. And instead of being amongst fellow trainees around her age group, she was now in the midst of men and women who had served the military for years. People who had gone to war, who had become specialists in their fields, or were even currently part of their branch's Special Forces divisions.

Then there was her. An Army enlistee who technically hadn't even graduated from BCT. Even though she knew to expect this on paper, she wanted to find Agent Donovan, and tell him he must have made a mistake in recruiting her.

Cara joined her formation to start the run, and fell into an easy cadence and pace. She was working on keeping her breath even and controlled, before thoughts of last night crept up on her.

After yesterday's NIRA Orientation/"If you talk, we'll find you" threat-lectures, the candidates were invited to a "Welcome Dinner" of sorts, to bond and socialize. As she noticed the candidates at her table were taking turns sharing "What's your name, where are you from, service experience?", she excused herself before the round reached her end. Anxiety and self-preservation winning out in taking a path of avoidance. She couldn't have escaped faster from her dinner seat.

Caraway shook her head, coming back to the present. She was grateful for this run. It was an opportunity to clear her head and not worry about the small stuff. Right now, all she had to do was reach the finish point. She increased her speed and pulled away from the group, estimating about another 1.5 miles left to go.

That's when she heard the footfalls of another runner come up behind her, then to her right. All she could register from her peripheral was: male, around 6 ft tall, medium/large build. Different running gear, so he must be another instructor, or maybe a mentor. She kept her gaze forward, and picked up her pace, pulling ahead by a few strides, only to see him match her.

They ran side be side for the next mile or so. "Is he pacing me?", she wondered, then shrugged. "We'll see when I open it up-"

As she was finishing her thought, he broke into a sprint. An image of a greyhound chasing the hare 'lure' at the track flashed across her mind. She grinned, "Challenge accepted, buddy." Cara dropped the hammer, catching up with him in seconds. When she pushed hard, he seemed to push harder and vice-versa. Both of them on a full out sprint with 200m to go.

They reached the finish point at about the same time, with him about a half stride ahead of her. She knew she shouldn't think of it as a win/loss scenario, but her competitive nature always went there. Cara stepped off to the side, and linked her fingers behind her head as she caught her breath.

She turned to look at the man who had paced her. Her face was flush, and she was smiling, coming down from her runner's high, "Hey, thanks for that push. I don't think I would've picked up the pace like that on my own." Their eyes met briefly, and Cara got the impression of a tumultuous storm in his grey eyes, before he turned and walked away.

Her brows furrowed in slight confusion, at his retreat upon her attempt at conversation. Someone knocked her shoulder, before she could dwell on it too much. It was another female candidate, "What are you doing making us all look bad back there? On the first day no less!", she jokingly yelled. Cara laughed and fell into easy conversation with the other candidates as they reached the finish point.

 

[Ikely]

The girl could run. She was fast. But what Cam was thinking and did not say out loud was, “We will see how fast you are when we add 40 pounds of armor, another 75 pounds of gear in an assault pack on her back, remove her high tech running shoes and replace them with assault boots, and make the run up a mountain side somewhere in the Hindu Kush mountain range at an altitude of more than 6000 feet.”

Yeah, that might slow her down.

Cam continued to watch his assigned candidate and was becoming somewhat impressed by her. She was not a natural but, athletically she was a thorough bred. He saw that a lot of the reason for her finishing first in most events, athletic or not, was she had a drive. She had something that would not allow her to fail. A lot like me, Cam thought. She would not fail.

He watched over the next 8 weeks.

She clearly had some training in hand to hand combat. It looked she had had formal training in kick boxing and other martial arts.

Academically, she excelled. Though she did not get perfect scores on all the exams, she was still in the top 3 of her class.

She caught on very quickly on the driving range and was able to make the Crown Victoria do all the precision maneuvers that were required.

On the firing range, she was shooting well. Cam felt that when he took her on as a mentor, he would be able refine her shooting abilities.

One day on the range, he went down to the firing line and took a position right next to her. The particular course of fire called for a shooter to fire 3 rounds, center mass, conduct a tactical reload, then fire 3 more rounds.

Cam did it with her shooting next to him. She seemed to match his speed during the mag change and got her shots off right along with him.

They went down to look at the targets.

Cam made no effort to hide what he was doing. He went right up to her target and looked. She had an excellent grouping of shots. Then he looked at his. His target looked like practically all of the bullets went through the same hole, the grouping was so close.

He looked at her in those beautiful eyes, and then looked at her target, then back into her eyes, then over at his target. He gave a very subtle nod then turned and walked away without saying a word.

Cam could now see why Garrett Donovan had selected this young woman.

Towards the end of the basic training, Cam decided to test her personality.

During the evening meal, one night, Cam took his tray of food and went to the table where she was sitting, eating and socializing with other candidates.

Cam stood over the table for a moment and then said, “You, you, and you, find another table. “to the other candidates. He then sat down across from her and stared at her for a long while. To her credit she did not budge or give any indication of stress.

When he was done, he stared at her again, then took his tray and left, having never said a word to her.

Later that evening, alone in his room and having finished his shower, he was laying naked on his bed.

An image of Caraway Milano, candidate #207, popped into his head.

The thought of her naked filled his mind.

Soon his body responded to the mental stimuli and he could not help himself.

He took his thickening member into his right hand and began thinking of having her naked, on top of him.

 

[TheOneThatGotAway]

The following eight weeks were brutal.

Going straight from Army BCT to NIRA's training program allowed her to keep up with the physical training portion, but because this was specialized training, standards and expectations were set significantly higher than what she experienced at Basic. Cara had to work that much harder to meet what NIRA deemed status quo.

Her age was a factor. She knew this going in; even though some of her fellow candidates had pointed out that her youth was an advantage, she still felt it was a set back. Cara simply didn't have the experience most of her peers did. So, where she lacked in experience, she hustled to compensate in drive. If she wasn't familiar with the material, she spent time studying about it in the library/resource center. If she couldn't nail a drill in a certain time, she utilized a portion of her personal time to work on strength and agility training in NIRA's state-of-the-art gymnasium.

When they reached the Defensive Tactics/Hand to Hand Combat portion of training, Cara finally felt comfortable with the material. Growing up with a martial arts background had given her a leg up in grasping techniques fast.

One day, near the end of class, Agent Donovan was on the mats with one of the instructors. He had a mischievous grin on his face, that made Cara wonder if they were collaborating on some sort of physical "punishment" to endure. Next thing she knew, the two men were pointing toward the observation deck and calling out, "Ward!!" and motioning for them to come down.

It was him. The guy that seemed to be watching her so intently, these past few weeks. He didn't look very pleased. His level of annoyance was practically rolling off of him in waves.

The instructor addressed the candidates, "We're going to do something a little different today. This is Agent Ward. If you can beat him, 1-on-1, you'll be exempt from tomorrow's test. Fair warning, everyone. He's one of the best here. Any volunteers?"

There was a pause as the candidates measured out the variables: going up against a seasoned NIRA agent, losing and taking the exam, possibly winning (though very slim) and being exempt, or not engaging and simply taking the test. Decisions, decisions...

Meanwhile, Agent Donovan stepped off to the side to observe, while Ward seemed to be staring daggers at him.

One of the candidates stepped forward. Big, brawler type, Cara determined. She used this as an opportunity to study Ward's fighting style. Not to her surprise, the candidate was going for power in his strikes, while Ward deftly slipped, quickly taking him down and submitting with a guillotine choke.

Another candidate stepped on, and held his own a little better against the agent. The candidate definitely had a bit more experience in grappling than the previous one. Cara overheard a female candidate, murmur how she'd love to roll around with Ward; nothing to do with self defense, of course. The match went on for a few minutes, and Ward won by submission via kneebar from standing.

Cara began to second guess volunteering. Agent Ward had incredible speed, and efficiency in his movements, and she could read that he was much more versatile than what he showed. As the instructor asked if there were any more volunteers, she took a step back, only to feel someone push her forward and into the "Challenge" area.

She turned to see who had pushed her, and fumed as she recognized Agent Donovan. Her "what-the-fuck" face, earning his reply of, "Get out there, Candidate. I didn't recruit you to stand around", followed up by the same grin he wore earlier.

"207, are you up?", the instructor asked.
Cara cleared her throat, "Yeah, I'll go."

She donned the appropriate protective gear, and faced off against Agent Ward. Adrenaline coursing through, as her mind reminded her to stay calm above all else. As the instructor went on about the do's and don'ts, her brain was rattling off points. If he's been observing, he'll already be familiar with your strengths, and tendencies. Go with unpredictability. He's more experienced with grappling. Keep it to upright striking as long as you can.

"You ready?", she nodded.
He turned to Ward. "You ready?", he confirmed.

"Begin!" the instructor stepped away, as the two of them exchanged a series of blows, blocks, and parry's. Even with protective gear, strikes that connected still took their toll.

Cara wasn't surprised when she executed a misjudged kick, that Ward had tackled her to the ground. He had the upper hand on the mount; his full weight on top of her as she bucked her hips, in an attempt to shrimp out. He transitioned into a straight arm bar, but Cara turned her wrist and slipped out.

She dove for the side mount, pressing her chest against Ward's and tucking her head and chin in as she attempted an americana shoulder lock. It was one of the keylock techniques they had covered earlier. If she could only pull his arm back a little more, and grab her wrist...

Before she knew it, she was on her back, with Ward on the full mount delivering a chokehold. His forearm applying pressure to her carotid arteries and jugular veins. She dug her fingers into his arm, trying to pry his arm off, to no avail. Their eyes locked. Cara's showing no signs of tapping out; Ward's unrelenting, and without mercy.

Ward didn't let off until the instructor called the match. Cara sat up, and slowly stood as she caught her breath. As the instructor asked if she was ok, Ward was still holding her gaze. When she nodded, and said "Yes", he once again walked away without a word.

Who is this guy?
*****
During dinner one night, she was mulling over the info she had found out about Agent Ward. She smiled and nodded appropriately, while the fellow candidates around her, chatted about how the training period was finally coming to an end.

After the sparring session with Ward, she had gone to the library to do research. She had to drop the Bambi eyes, in convincing the young librarian in allowing her to use his access card, since hers had "suddenly stopped working", but it worked. Cara was able to preview a simple profile of Agent Camden Ward: 32 years old. Army Ranger. Special Forces training. Led successful missions with the Combat Applications Group. Been with the NIRA for almost 10 years. One of the most successful graduates of the training program, and agents in the field. Currently Mentoring.

His involvement with her training, since the match on the mat, had become purely observational from a distance. She began to wonder. From what she gathered, mentors weren't allowed to communicate directly with candidates until training was completed. Is he my mentor?

Think of the Devil, and he shall appear.

His voice cut through her thoughts, “You, you, and you, find another table."

And just like that, she was alone with Camden Ward directly in front of her. She met his stare, dead on, and smiled, "You know, you didn't have to chase my friends away. If you wanted to have dinner with me, all you had to do was ask."

They ate in silence together, until he finished and took his tray away, yet again leaving her without a word.
*****
That night, while Cara was alone in the showers, she thought about him. The intensity of his eyes, the power of his hands, his sensual mouth. Her rational mind figured it probably wasn't very realistic, but the fantasy of Ward put her right on the edge. She dipped two fingers deep inside, and stroked. Her palm pressing hard against her clit. The image of him, and his smoldering eyes boring into hers, as he drove deep, sent her right over. Her mouth opening on a silent scream, as she came hard on her hand.

 

[Ikely]

The next day, Cam went to the range by himself. He used shooting as a method of relaxation. Going through the steps to shoot a projectile over a distance and to get it to strike where he wanted it to strike, was an intellectual process as much as it was a physical one and he found the mental stimulation very relaxing.

He was shooting his M-4, using iron sights. He was aligning the front sight post on the silhouette target when the image of candidate #207 flooded his mind.

Inhale. Let it out. Squeeze the trigger at the bottom of the breath. BANG!

Cam had been impressed by her hand to hand skills. She had had formal training for sure, and there had been a moment, during their sparring, when he thought she was going to submit him.

Inhale. Let it out. Squeeze the trigger at the bottom of the breath. BANG!

Then there was the feeling of her hard, toned body writhing underneath him on the mats.
That feeling of her slick skin against his, along with the image of her body in the PT gear and the scent of a physically active and attractive woman had been incredible. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed those feelings.

Inhale. Let it out. Squeeze the trigger at the bottom of the breath. BANG!

Candidate #207 had been on his mind for 16 hours straight. She had been in his thoughts as a potential operative in the field. She had been on his mind as someone he was to train and help teach so she did not get killed in the first 8 hours of her first mission.
But she had also appeared in his sexual fantasy that night. He wanted to see her naked.

He wondered if she moaned when she had an orgasm. Did she enjoy being on top and riding the guy or did she prefer lying on her back, with her legs open, feeling the guy’s balls slapping her tight little ass hole.

Inhale. Let it out. Squeeze the trigger at the bottom of the breath. BANG!

“Knock it off, asshole!” Cam screamed at himself.

He cleared and safed the rifle then walked down to his target. He had hit the black exactly…TWICE!

“Holy shit, I have got to get this woman out of my head.” Cam mumbled.

The training day went down with no problems for the candidates.

A short time after lunch, Cam was approached by the assistant to the director of security.
“Hey Cam, I have to talk to you about something.”
“Yeah, sure, what’s up?” Cam said
“Someone accessed your classified file. I was wondering, did you authorize any access or did you access your file?” The man asked
“Fuck NO! Who accessed my file?” Cam was nearing a category 5 pissed off event.
“Unknown, but we do know that your file was accessed from a computer in the library.”

They talked more and knew that whoever accessed that file had to either have clearance or had hacked into the file. Those files were so classified they were surrounded by layer after layer of encryption.

Cam went straight to the library and started investigating.

It did not take long. The librarian was a younger U. S. Army soldier station at Camp Foster.

He quickly realized what was happening and told Cam that he had allowed a candidate to use his access card, which had all the clearances to access any file in the system. When pressed to identify the candidate, the young soldier said, “I do not know her name or candidate number, but she is a real hottie. She looks like she could be Asian but I don’t know.”

Cam knew exactly who it was.

He went straight to Garrett Donovan and did not try to hide his anger.

“Garrett, I want her out! Drop her immediately from training and get her the FUCK out!”
“Cam, you need to pump your brakes…”
“No, FUCK YOU, GARRETT! She tapped into my file! I can count 3 major violations in that statement, alone. I want her gone, now.”
“Well Cam, that is not going to happen, and, I think we both know why you are so spun up over this. She utilized some personal initiative and gathered intelligence, which is EXACTLY what we are supposed to do. You are pissed because you never thought to do that and she did.” Garrett said in normal voice.

Cam paused. He knew that Garrett was correct. He was pissed because the trainee had beaten him, in a sense.

Cam never got beat, or at least had never been beaten.

They talked some more and when it was clear that Garrett was not going to remove her from training, Cam swallowed his pride and started out of the office. Just before he left, he turned to Garrett and asked, “I am requesting permission to speak to candidate #207. Before you give me any shit about protocols, she broke into my personal file, Garrett. I believe I have the right to talk to her about it.”

Garrett thought about it a moment then agreed, but he reminded Cam that the woman was going to remain in training and that he would be her mentor in only a few days.

Cam left his office and noted the time. The candidates should be done with their evening run and in their dorms.

Cam went straight up there. He stormed into the hall way and yelled, “Where is 207!?”

The trainees were in shock and Cam yelled it out again.

Finally, there was a voice farther down the hall, “She is in the shower.”

Cam turned and marched to the female head and showers.

Once inside, he yelled, “All of you get your fuckin towels and get out!” The females who had been in the shower bolted at high speed to get away from the coming storm.

Cam had always been hard to get angry. He prided himself on not letting emotion take him over. He always felt that it was a waste of energy. But when he did get angry…well, his grandmother had always said Cam was like a storm in tornado alley, all you could do was hide in the cellar and pray he did not take the roof.

Cam was well beyond that level of anger.

Cam stalked around until he reached the showers and he walked into the steamy, ceramic tiled shower stalls and he found candidate 207 at the far end.

He noted that her naked body was breathtaking.

Then he switched back and put on the pissed off face.

"Exactly who the FUCK do you think you are, you fucking little snot nose?"
Cam started stalking towards her.

 

[TheOneThatGotAway]

This was the second night in a row that Cara found herself in the showers, fingering herself to the thought of Agent Ward. It didn't make a lot of sense, but as that familiar pressure rapidly built and rose to a crescendo, she decided she could really care less about what made sense, and what didn't. She bit her lower lip, and closed her eyes as she came to the image of Ward, staring deep into her eyes, and fucking her hard against a wall. Her body nearly shaking as wave after wave crashed through her.

The speed and intensity of her orgasm took her completely off guard. Even as she sought to control her breathing, her limbs felt like jelly, and her head was swimming in the clouds. Tonight's rest is going to feel so good...

Her euphoric state of reverie was interrupted by the angry voice of someone yelling. It sounded…male? That can't be right. She shook her head, and decided to think nothing of it. Men weren't allowed in the women's dorm. Cara poured conditioner into her palm and began to massage it into her scalp, before running soap along her body.

She paused for a moment, as she registered the sound of people scrambling for their things and running out. Her brows knit, perplexed. If there was a true reason to vacate, there would be an alarm going off. Right?

Cara slid the semi-clear curtain of her stall, just enough to peek her head out, and see him. Mild panic came over her. She blinked a few times, and even rubbed her eyes to make sure she didn't have soap in them. There was no way she could be seeing things correctly. Agent Ward was fully dressed, in the women's showers, fast approaching.

The Devil was coming for her.

"Exactly who the FUCK do you think you are, you fucking little snot nose?", Agent Ward bit out.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and her hackles rose. Snot nose? Not exactly how she pictured their first conversation starting. Who, me? I'm just a woman getting her rocks off, in the shower, while thinking of you. I must say, you have impeccable timing! She whipped the curtain close before her sarcasm and temper could get the better of her.

Details started making themselves clear in her mind. Agent Ward was definitely here, and angry, at her. For what? Possibly for accessing his file, but I won't admit to that too early. This is the first time he's addressing me, and the fact that it's on the woman's floor, a place where he doesn't have jurisdiction, means he's going out of his way. This isn't the Army though, she reminded herself.

Asshole wants to run intimidation tactics on me in the shower? Fine.

She took a breath as she schooled her voice into one of nonchalance, and began to rinse the soap from her hair and body. "Agent Ward," she called from the shower, "so nice to see you again," she finished sweetly. "I'm curious if you always address your future mentee's with such vehemence?", she asked, baiting him into confirming.

With her back turned to him, Cara tilted her head slightly, so as to keep him in sight. She continued, "As for your question, I'm fairly certain there's a manila folder floating around detailing exactly who I am. Just like I'm fairly certain that you shouldn't be here, much less, even be addressing me, until I graduate. Sir."