Agent Andrea (Pt 1)Mature

Andrea knows that members of the Archers are running from things.

Her? She's not running, she's protecting.

She grew up in a quiet neighbourhood that wasn't the richest, but they got by. If only by a sliver. Andrea thrived in New Orleans, partly because she loved the language that flowed around her in the Quarter. 

And she's had a few nasty run-ins about her dark chocolate skin, but for the most part she can ignore it. 

She grew up in a house that was decent, if a little run-down. Her father drank, her mother was absent most of her life, and she had two sisters. Rosemary was depressed, four-fifths suicidal, and anxious. Anna had autism and anger management problems. Their parents weren't helping matters.

At 15, the state transferred Andrea and her sisters to their grandparents' custody and house, a large place tucked away in New Orleans. They were taken every weekend to walk around the French Quarter with their elderly grandmother, Andrea being given a camera for the first time. Thus started her love-hate relationship with photographs.

She moved to New Jersey when she was seventeen, getting a scholarship to Princeton University, and doing Political Science for her masters, as well as taking International Affairs, Foreign Studies, and Mathematics.

On the side, she abandoned photography, finding it necessary in order to keep up with her training with Lea.

After her grandparents had learned about how Andrea had borne the brunt of the beating from her alcoholic father for her sisters, they had immediately set her up with the hard Russian self-defence trainer named Lea.

Lea was basically her combat instructor, who taught a unique hand-to-hand fighting style, incorporating Okichitaw, karate, boxing, street-fighting from New York, and American Kenpo. Eventually, Andrea had learned everything that Lea could teach her, and began using her own moves and techniques.

When she moved to New Jersey for university, Lea followed her, getting a small apartment that was more of a shoebox. They sparred twice a week in a hole-in-the-wall gym, the owner a retired boxer.

Then she got recruited by the CIA -not quite what she wanted, but fine. If the FBI doesn't want her, she'll take the job with the CIA.

Her internship causes her to relocate yet again - this time to Virginia. This time, Lea doesn't follow her. She goes back to her private gym in New Orleans, insisting that she can handle herself now. That her little istrebitel will do fine in Virginia.

But she doesn't really like working for the CIA.

It involves leaving her hair down instead of shoving it back in its usual bun, pantyhose, dresses/skirts, and pantyhose. There's a lot of filing involved, and she's tired.

The End

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