foundation of strength

I woke up to the warm light filtering through the curtains, the subtle sound of Sebastian shifting nearby drawing my attention. He was already awake, seated at the edge of the bed, his back to me. His suit jacket lay draped over a nearby chair, and he was rolling the cuffs of his white shirt, his movements measured and calm.

“Good morning,” I murmured, my voice still groggy with sleep.

He turned, his lips curling into a soft smile. “Morning. You slept well?”

I nodded, stretching lazily. “I did. What about you?”

“Well enough,” he replied, standing and moving to the mirror to adjust his collar. “Today’s going to be busy. I’ve got a meeting with Evander about the case. It’s critical we find out who’s behind all this before things escalate further.”

I watched him; his determination palpable. “And what about me?”

He glanced at me through the mirror, his expression softening. “You’ve got training with Raven and Mamba today. They’ll prepare you for the fieldwork ahead. You’ll be in good hands.”

I swallowed, the weight of the day settling on me. “I’ll do my best.”

Sebastian turned fully to face me, his gaze steady. “I know you will. Just trust the process, Ariella. It’s the first step to becoming someone no one will dare underestimate.”

I smiled faintly, his words both reassuring and daunting.

The backyard was quiet, the morning sun casting long shadows across the ground. Raven was already there, crouched beside her sniper rifle, meticulously cleaning and assembling the pieces. Her black combat gear made her look like a shadow given form, and she exuded a sense of control that I found both intimidating and inspiring.

“Morning,” I greeted hesitantly as I approached.

Raven looked up, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Morning, Ariella. Ready to work?”

“I think so,” I replied, though nerves made my voice waver.

She chuckled, standing and dusting off her hands. “You’ll be fine. Training isn’t about perfection; it’s about learning and improving. You’ve already taken the first step by showing up.”

I nodded, her words giving me a small boost of confidence.

We started with a warm-up—jumping jacks, push-ups, and sprints across the yard. Raven led by example, her movements fluid and precise. She encouraged me when I faltered, her voice firm but supportive.

After the warm-up, we moved to the shooting range. She laid out several pistols on a table, each one gleaming under the sunlight.

“Let’s talk about guns,” she began, gesturing to the array before us. “Pistols are your best friend in a close-quarters situation. They’re easy to carry, quick to draw, and deadly in the right hands.”

She pointed to each pistol in turn, naming them as she went. “We’ve got the Glock 19, Sig Sauer P226, Beretta M9, CZ Shadow 2, and the Walther PPQ. All excellent choices, but my personal favorite is the Glock 19. It’s reliable, compact, and versatile—a perfect balance for someone starting out.”

I picked up the Glock 19, feeling its weight in my hands. “It’s heavier than I thought,” I admitted.

“You’ll get used to it,” Raven assured me. She then moved on to the next lesson. “Now, let’s talk about targets. The head and heart are your primary targets if you need an instant kill. But sometimes, you might want to incapacitate rather than kill—shooting the shoulder or leg can slow someone down significantly. For a slow and painful death, the neck is a good choice, but it’s also messy.”

I nodded, absorbing the information as best as I could.

Raven guided me through the basics of holding the gun—how to grip it firmly but not too tightly, how to position my feet for stability, and how to align the sights for accuracy. She demonstrated first, firing a few rounds at the target with impressive precision.

When it was my turn, my hands trembled slightly as I raised the gun. The first shot missed entirely, the recoil jolting me more than I expected. Raven stepped behind me, adjusting my stance and grip.

“Relax,” she said. “Breathe in, aim, and then breathe out as you pull the trigger.”

With her guidance, my next shot hit the target, albeit not the bullseye. Still, it was progress, and I felt a surge of pride.

“Good,” Raven said, nodding approvingly. “Keep practicing. It’s all about muscle memory and focus.”

After the shooting lesson, I made my way to another section of the yard where Mamba was waiting. His imposing figure and stern expression made my stomach flip with nerves.

“Morning,” he greeted gruffly, holding up a sleek knife that glinted in the sunlight. “Let’s get straight to it. Why do you think you need a melee weapon?”

“For close combat?” I ventured.

He nodded. “Exactly. Guns are great, but they’re loud and require ammo. A knife, though—it’s silent, doesn’t run out, and can be just as deadly in the right hands.

He laid out several knives on the table: a Bowie knife, a Karambit, a Tanto blade, and a Benchmade Griptilian. He picked up the Benchmade Griptilian, holding it up for me to see.

“This one’s my favorite. Lightweight, durable, and razor-sharp. Perfect for quick, precise attacks.”

I picked it up, feeling its weight and balance. “It feels… different.”

“Different is good,” Mamba said with a smirk. “Now, let’s talk about using it. The most basic attack is the slash—it’s quick, effective, and doesn’t require much precision. But if you want to end a fight quickly, a stab to the chest or throat is your best bet. Always aim for vital areas.

He demonstrated various attack patterns, his movements swift and fluid. I tried to mimic him but stumbled more often than not.

“Focus on the basics,” he said, adjusting my grip. “Slash first. Master that, and the rest will follow.”

I practiced slashing at a dummy, each movement feeling more natural as time went on. Mamba corrected me when needed, his patience surprising given his intimidating demeanor.

By the end of the lesson, I was exhausted but felt a sense of accomplishment.

Back in Sebastian’s room, I found him lounging on the couch, the TV playing softly in the background. He looked up as I entered, his gaze warm.

“Long day?” he asked, a knowing smile on his face.

“You have no idea,” I replied, sinking into a chair with a tired sigh.

I told him about the lessons, from Raven’s shooting drills to Mamba’s knife training. He listened attentively, nodding occasionally.

“You’ll get the hang of it,” he said reassuringly. “It’s only your first day. Give it time.”

I smiled, his words easing some of my lingering self-doubt. “Thanks, Sebastian.”

“Always,” he replied simply.

After a quick bath, I climbed into bed, my body aching but my mind at ease. As I drifted off to sleep, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation for what tomorrow would bring.

But for now. I am seriously tired so let me just………