Basic Training Martin Kane A Delphi Agency Tale: Kathy vs the Marine Author's note: Anyone wishing to contact me may do so via the DtV messageboard for Readers & Writers. I invite anyone to send any comments, good or bad, should they wish to. I'm always interested in what others think of my little tales. Copyright is mine. I'd be flattered if anyone wanted to use this tale elsewhere, but please seek permission first. Needless to say this story is purely a fiction and all characters merely the products of an overwrought imagination I'll abstain from the adult content warning, if you've got this far, you're certain to know what kind of thing to expect anyway. The warehouse was in darkness when McKenzie arrived. He was on his guard but still cool. Having surveyed the area by standard military practise, he knew that the whole yard was abandoned. Whatever lay in wait for him, lay within the tin-roofed shack before him. The warehouse was tiny in comparison to those on his army base, only forty feet across by about a hundred deep. The door, he noticed, was unlocked. A shiny new padlock, contrasting the rusty clasp, hung unlatched. It appeared to be long abandoned by its true owner, only to be reclaimed now by some other, for some unknown purpose. He walked forwards and entered. Silence and shadows. In the dim midnight light he could make out nothing within the interior. He switched on his torch, cutting through the darkness in hard, heavy sweeps. He saw dust and cobwebs, abandoned decay. He saw crates, piled in neat symmetry, turning the interior into a labyrinth of corridors and crannies. "Hello?" he called into the shed. His voice echoed, bouncing off of crates and walls. "Well? I’m here." He swept the torch about, stepping forward, deeper into the darkness. Still he saw nothing. A voice called out to him from the darkness, low and cruelly theatrical. "What were you... born in a barn? Close the fucking door." The tone was cool but cut with venom. It instantly put McKenzie back onto his guard. "Who is that? Come out here." He aimed the torch to where he thought his antagonist’s voice had come from, but he revealed only more crates. He headed further into the darkness, closer towards whoever was inside. A rattle and slam and the faint haze of light behind him was shut out. A click and he knew he was locked in. The voice came again and again it was before him. There must be two of them at least. "I told you to come unarmed." "I did," McKenzie insisted. Light flooded the warehouse and blinded him. As he grew used to it he saw his initial impression had been correct. A small empty space where they both stood, then the crates and boxes of all description, piled into rows and stacks, to form a maze of sorts. However, the only true exit was the locked door behind him. The man who now stood before him was tall and slim, messy black hair and pale scrawny features. He wore jeans and a T-shirt and looked generally unkempt. But despite this, McKenzie recognised him well enough. "This is just a torch," McKenzie told him, switching the bulky tool off and holding it out to see. "It’s a weapon," Leon assured him, his voice bitter. "You used to slam it against the backs of our knees when we were training. I recall you once coshed a recruit behind the skull with it. Myself and another man had to carry him back to the barracks." "Is that what this is about?" McKenzie hissed, his own tone loaded with spite. "You didn’t like army life so you quit and then you blame it all on the Major who made your life so hard." "It’s a cliche, I admit," Leon agreed, his tone still dangerously low, "But you know what they say, cliches become cliches because they’re true." "Well army life is hard, that’s why soldiers are tough. You couldn’t take the heat so you got out of the kitchen. Now tell me what the fuck that has to do with me." "You’re a thug and a bully," Leon told him. "I went through hell before I quit and then came close to a breakdown after I quit. I tried to figure out what was wrong with me, was I really just too weak to stand the heat? And you want to know what I decided?" "I don’t give a flying fuck what you decided, boy. You quit and you ceased to be my problem." "I was never your problem. You were my problem. Mine and every other recruit. Do you know your base has the highest suicide rate in the country? Not to mention the highest drop-out rate." "I don’t have to justify myself to you or to anyone else. I know my job, and that’s to separate the wheat from the chaff. You were definitely chaff." Leon put on a mocking slurred accent. "Well you’re wrong there, Hoss. You gotta justify yourself now, to me, and do a good job, coz if you don’t, you is a dead man." "Don’t threaten me," McKenzie hissed. "I’m gonna rip your head off and piss down your open throat." "Unlikely," Leon told him carelessly. "If my friend has anything to say about it." He gestured behind the marine. McKenzie turned to see a figure standing behind him, barring his way to the door. The figure stepped forward, turning out to be a woman dressed in full combat fatigues. She had a machine rifle strapped to her back, which she raised and aimed at him with a smile. "Kathy, meet McKenzie, the biggest son-of-a-bitch ever to train soldiers. Sir, meet Kathy, the chick I hired to kill you." The silence was audible as everyone stood and waited for someone else to break it. McKenzie was rooted to the spot, staring into the eyes of his assassin. He saw no fear or doubt in there and knew immediately that she was truly capable of cold-blooded killing. Woman or no, she was quite capable of pulling the trigger. However, she did not. "Well?" McKenzie demanded. "What are you waiting for?" Kathy looked down the length of the gun, siting him and she pulled the trigger. In the silence, the dull click echoed around the confined space. "I admit it," she told him, her voice surprisingly mind and sweet. "I didn’t load it. Do you know how hard it is to get hold of these things? Live ammo? Forget it. As it was the costume came from a fancy dress hire." She pulled off the helmet and tossed it aside carelessly. Lush black hair spilled out. "What? You didn’t think I was a real soldier, did you?" "You’re slovenly and slack. No discipline. You’re no soldier." "True, I could never take orders from a pile of shit like you." She held the gun in front of her. "And as for shooting you dead? Far too kind." She brought her knee up and slammed the weapon down lengthways across it. The heavy gun snapped into two as though no more substantial than a tree-branch. This too she tossed aside. "I am going to beat the both of you to a pulp," McKenzie promised, looking back at Leon. The man was making himself comfortable, ready to watch the spectacle before him. Kathy was pulling off the combat fatigues now, casting the military uniform aside. Beneath she was dressed only in a black bra and boxer-shorts. She pulled the boots off too, standing barefoot. As she reached behind her head to tie her long hair back, McKenzie caught a glimpse of her biceps. The motion flexed her bare arms, twitching a hard and powerfully defined muscle. His eyes went wide at this, checking out the rest of her physique. She was hard and lean, looking like a track and field athlete or a gymnast. Muscles stood out beneath the skin like a layer of coiled springs, wound tight and ready. She was lean and toned, the bodybuilding equivalent of a hot and speedy sports car. Then he laughed. "You hired a fitness-bimbo to beat me up? What are you," he asked her. "A karate expert?" "I’ve studied a few martial arts," she admitted with a sly smile. "Well fuck kung-fu, bitch. I’ve killed people with my bare hands. I’ve been in armed combat." Kathy gave him a quick flex, hardening her biceps into surprisingly sharp peaks, though it was for Leon’s benefit rather than McKenzie. Leon gave her a quick nod and she approached the big man. "You wanna do this?" McKenzie asked her, still amused by the idea. "Coz I’m willing to go all the way with you. Don’t think you’re getting out of here alive if this goes down." Kathy stopped a few feet short. "Bitch, shut the fuck up and fight like a man." McKenzie punched her but she jerked back, setting into a fighting stance, her fists raised instantly into a block. She slid forward, slammed him across the jaw, blocked his counter and danced back out of range. McKenzie was instantly in the game, taking it seriously. He raised the torch in one hand, the only weapon he had, and took a defensive posture. He lunged at her. Kathy flew to the side, glancing his sweeping blow off of her forearm and slammed her knee into his stomach. It was a palpable hit and she could see he was winded. Her elbow came down at the base of his neck but he reacted too quickly, twisting to take the force of the blow on his shoulder instead. He brought the torch up hard and slammed it into her face. It stunned her and he took the chance to retreat quickly and regain his own composure. Kathy shook herself quickly and leapt, a vicious kick to the torso but he blocked her, spinning aside and catching her back with the torch as she past. She rolled into recovery and dropped, kicking out sidewards to fell him with a low blow to the knee. He went with the impact, absorbing enough to prevent the bone from shattering but it decked him instantly and he fell backwards. He rolled away just as she flew up and onto him, her own knee landing where his solar plexus had been only a second before. McKenzie flipped back onto his feet and backed up, gasping for breath. This was harder than he ever could have imagined. She was too fast for him and they both knew it. If the fight continued in this vein, she really could best him. And he believed she truly did intend to kill him. Kathy leapt up and launched at his retreating form with another flying kick. This time she spun forward like a flying cartwheel. He blocked the first bare foot but the second smashed his face, exploding blood as his nose splintered and pain blasted right through to the back of his skull. He punched in defence even as he staggered backwards and caught her a lucky blow, giving himself enough space to recover. He swung the torch as a club and she blocked it. It smacked against her forearm painfully hard but she held strong. He swung again, then again, using his only advantage. The strength and fury of his assault paid off and Kathy backed away, trying to fend off his blows. He knew then how to beat her; she had the speed but he had the power. He had to stay in close and defeat her with his physical strength. She caught the bludgeon, twisting his arm away but holding it trapped, exposing his chest to her own attack, several punches that shattered ribs at each contact. McKenzie threw his weight into her, slamming his head into a butt that was distraction enough for him to sink a fist deep into her hardened abdomen. The muscle there was incredible but the attack allowed him to wrestle his weapon free and crack it around her skull. It dazed her and she fell away. Without pausing, McKenzie brought the torch down again, slamming down onto her head, and then again. Each successive blow was more effective as her defences fell away. She staggered back and collapsed. McKenzie took his opportunity and fell down upon her. He sat astride her fallen form, pinning her legs with his own. He pressed the torch down across her throat with both hands and began applying the pressure. His arms were straight as he levelled his shoulders above them, throwing his whole weight into the act. Kathy snatched at the torch, wrapping her hands around the jutting sides and tried to pull it up, away from her windpipe. He was in a better position however, angled for optimum force. She struggled against his weight, unable to even breathe. She had no hope of shaking him off. She focused and flexed. There was only one way out of her predicament. She eased her arms out, taking the torch from underneath instead of trying to tug it off from above. She pulled her shoulders down and in, and then began pushing. Her muscles ached at the strain, her arms burning against the pressure. But her power began to win out. She felt the pressure ease off of her throat a little and she gasped a precious breath. It tasted so good. McKenzie looked down at the woman in sheer amazement. He had her, she was trapped and helpless, and yet, here she was, out muscling him. He renewed his efforts, crushing downwards into her. However, Kathy was exuberant in her switch to victory and not about to be defeated. She flexed and pumped, pushing him further up and away from her. Her elbows locked as she heaved him to arm’s-length above her. He teeth gritted with the effort. McKenzie just stared down at the woman. He realised then that she had defeated him and that sudden horror reduced his confidence to nothing. It made her victory assured. She threw him aside and stood, gasping for breath and looking thoroughly pissed off. She was bloody and bruised, sweat streaming off of her. Her hair had come loose in the struggle and now hung matted and tangled in front of her face. She looked through the fringe at the man she was fighting and the face he saw would have scared the devil. She was pure hate. McKenzie threw up his defences and backed off as she closed on him. She lay punch after punch into his retreating form, most falling against his increasingly failing blocks. But that didn’t matter, it was power and fury that fuelled her now. The next punch shattered his forearm and he howled. She grasped the other arm and twisted until it snapped, keeping hold of it and lodging it under her own arm using it to hold him up. It exposed his torso and she began smashing her free fist into it with abandonment. The fight had ended. Kathy looked up from the sticky mess still propped in her grasp to see Leon standing beside her. She stopped screaming - a harsh and grating cry of fury that she only realised she was making as her lungs emptied. "I think you won," he told her. Kathy looked down at her wet fist. "I think you’re right," she agreed and she dropped the soldier. "There’s a tap at the back here," he told her and led her to it. She washed the pulp off of her self and sat on a crate. "Sorry if I lost it back there, that bastard was actually pretty tough." Leon smiled gently at her. "Not as tough as you." He had a small first-aid box and he brought out a swab, using it to clean a cut on her face. "It’s OK trust me, I’m a professional. Well, almost. I’m training to be a paramedic." "Really?" "Yeah, it was true that I nearly had a breakdown after I quit the army. I went through a lot of soul searching. I realised what I really wanted to do." "Help people?" "Yeah." Kathy smiled, liking this man more and more as each moment past. "I like to think that’s what I do. Help people, I mean. I suppose it’s quite paradoxical because what I actually do it viciously assault and murder people." Leon shrugged. "You helped me," he told her. "In fact, you’ve helped a hell of a lot of people. You’ve helped every new recruit that won’t have to suffer under that arsehole, thanks to you." He got a new swab and began on another cut on her upper arm. "Stop flexing your bicep," he complained, trying to work on it through her constant twitching. She laughed. "I can’t help it, it stings." "Don’t be a baby." He finished, then stroked an awed finger down the vein. "You really are tough, aren’t you." "You got off on watching me beat him up, didn’t you." It wasn’t an accusation, just a question. "What makes you say that?" She grasped his crotch, rough but not excessively so. "You had a hard-on watching me." Then amended. "Have a hard-on." "Do you think that makes me sick?" "I didn’t say that. Some guys get off on powerful women. That certainly doesn’t offend me. In this case, I think, considering what he was like, it’s easier to apply moral justification." "You know what they say about the link between sex and violence..." Apparently she did, because she silenced his mouth by easing her tongue into it. They lay back, their bodies intertwining. Kathy broke off of the kiss looking at him with genuine concern on her face. "Is it too sick to do it right here...?" Leon looked just as concerned. "Well, it’s not like we can leave here until we’ve finished clearing up the evidence anyway..." "Good." And, that settled, they began tearing each other’s clothes off with renewed vigour.