Mitchell Parker stood alert, watching and listening. At six-foot-two with dark hair and an athletic build, he was ready for this, trained and attuned. He squinted and his blue eyes scanned the area. He had just downed one suspect at close range but he saw a movement, a shadow in the window of a building opposite. He dropped low, loaded two rounds into his handgun and ran in the shadows towards the building. He was feeling good, fit again; time had ensured his injuries from the last mission were more mental than physical now.
There it was again; the same movement. He raced to the building, easily taking the two flights of stairs and bracing as the figure emerged from the top stair. In a split second he assessed the enemy and fired. A noise behind made him wheel around, gun at the ready, but he stopped just in time as the picture of a child appeared.
In his earpiece he heard the command to stand down. Mitch unloaded his weapon and holstered it. He moved down the stairs back to the command center where Joseph Nabor, the training instructor, waited. He stood a foot shorter than Mitch and a foot wider, most of it muscle.
“Not bad, not bad at all, Mitch,” he said, taking the gun from Mitch and checking it.
Mitch grabbed a bottle of water while he waited for the report. He followed Joseph to his desk and dropped into a chair opposite.
“How did you feel?” Joseph asked, taking a seat.
Mitch shrugged. “Fine.”
“And the point-blank range shots?”
“No problem. It is closer to what we’ve experienced in the real world lately.”
Joseph nodded and looked at Mitch’s score sheet, made a few notes, and signed it. “Out of the sixty rounds, you did pretty well. You did better at the two-handed shooting after stage one, but most agents do. Fifteen yards was your best, but all up you got fifty-two out of the sixty. A good result. That’s Hogan’s Alley and your VirtSim both done now,” Joseph said, referring to the Virtual Simulator Tactical Training system that Mitch had recently undertaken.
Mitch thanked him and while looking over the sheet, finished the bottle of water. “What did Ellie get?” he asked after his team member Ellen Beetson.
“Fifty-eight,” Joseph said with a smile. “Don’t need to look that one up, she’s a crack shot.”
“Damn, she’s done it again,” he sighed.
“If it’s any consolation, you’re ahead of the rest of your team … Nicholas and Adam,” Joseph said.
“Nope,” Mitch rose, “the only consolation, Joe, is that she’s on my team.” Mitch smiled and departed with a wave.