Back Home, sort of...Mature

1 Month Later

Sam stood in a large open space that was known by the other agents as the room of doom. It was a waiting area that was sparsely furnished, but the furniture that did exist was plush and modern. Sam felt the room was much bigger than it really was, due to the fact that it was empty other than him. Then a disconcerting bleeping pierced the silence, a harsh American voice followed “Mission controller John Wrath is ready to see you now.” Sam rose to his feet and trudged into the modern well furnished room that had been the hub of intelligence behind many of the FBI’s missions. The man inside wore a mask of fury that was badly concealed, Sam slunk into the room’s other chair.

John looked up from the laptop he was pretending to look at, it was a sleek device and quite small so John’s face was clearly visible.  John started calmly “Sam, I’m glad you came back in one piece”, John paused his voice straining “However you’re methods were unorthodox”. His face had a beetroot complexion, as he fumed waiting for one of Sam’s longwinded explanations that always ended in him being covered in John’s spittle. Sam decided to keep his mouth shut but this seemed to enrage his furious mission controller further, finally Sam spoke up “I was forced to use violence because I was caught, however I believe I was turned in. I didn’t do anything suspicious and kept on my A.O.E missions.”

Sam was lying on his bed; John had given him quite a bollocking and it hadn’t even been his fault. Some bastard had turned him in and John blatantly, point blank decided to dismiss what Sam knew to be true. Sam suddenly jumped to his feet and started to slam his fists into the wall, after a minute his knuckles began to bleed and his eyes watered up. He swore with the dirtiest words he knew at the top of his voice before sinking back into his bed and curling up nursing his bloodied fists.

The next morning Sam went down the stairs of his accommodation block and headed to the central plaza. Once there he followed maze of twisting corridors until he reached toe canteen, he ordered a bowl of low fat cereal covered in yoghurt and sat down on an empty table. The canteen was empty as all the adult agents had to report an hour before him, so he didn’t get to eat with them. Not that he knew many anyway, he only had met a few on missions other than that he was clueless as to whom he shared the compound with. Sam slowly ate but then left feeling the monotonous return to normal life, for him.

Sam strode dejectedly into the steel gymnasium; it was decked out with equipment to help with any work-out. Sam trudged over to the left of the hall, where his fitness and combat trainer usually waited. Once he was there he stood waiting, for the scathing report on how un-fit he was, but it never came. Sam blinked, the instructor wasn’t there but he was never late, so where could he be? “Aarrrrrgggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!” Sam dropped, to avoid a punch and spun to face his assailant…

Sam threw a punch but was blocked and his feet were swept out from underneath him, he lay winded on the floor. If some-one had broken into the compound they must be a professional, but they were to quick to be a criminal lackey. Suddenly Sam was afraid, but then the man took off his balaclava. It was Ben, his fitness and combat trainer, and he had a slight smirk on his face. When he saw Sam gawping he stopped smiling and barked “Your slow reactions are un-acceptable, this was a test and you failed. If this had been real life you would be dead. Now get training, you have double training sessions for the next two weeks before you are cleared for missions.” Sam started to protest but quickly stopped as he realised he would only make it worse for himself. He jogged over to the stand where most of the body building equipment was stacked; today was going to be a very long day indeed.  

Sam slouched out of the fitness hall two hours later, covered in sweat and grime. His muscles ached like they were on fire and so he decided to head back to his dormitory. He limped pathetically into his room, shut the door and collapsed on his bed. He soon got up and stripped off and headed for the shower, his gruelling training had very nearly killed him because he was so out of shape. He turned on the water and felt the comforting warm spray soak through his hair. He then turned his thoughts to the monotonous weeks of fitness and combat training that lay ahead. But then his thoughts started to drift; he had felt so free when he was out on mission, no-one to tell him what to do. Suddenly his room phone went off. He quickly turned off the shower grabbed a towel and went to answer the phone. Once he had picked up he heard Fiona’s pleasant voice on the other-end “Hey Sam, I didn’t know you were back, but looks like John wants to see you again. I bet John just going to shout and scream but you should go anyway. Otherwise that might not be the worst of you troubles. Bye.”   

The End

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