Chapter 52: Willa
There was a young male in uniform at the front desk, busy entering information into a computer. We stopped in front of him, Austin standing next to me while Shane and Adam hung back.
“Just a moment, please,” the soldier said politely but without looking up.
I noticed Austin raise an eyebrow, but I nudged him to be nice.
“Thank you for your patience,” he said as he turned to us. “How can I help… Luna, Gamma Austin, I’m so sorry. Please forgive my rudeness.”
I shook my head. “There’s no need to apologize, soldier. We are here to meet with Captain Wendell.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll call him down for you.”
“No need, Private Parker.” An older male was coming down the hall toward us. He bowed to me. “Luna, it’s an honor to have you here.”
“You must be Captain Wendell,” I said, extending a hand.
He took it firmly. “You are correct. Please follow me. We’ll get your identification completed, then head to the training grounds.”
We followed him through the building. He brought me to an office where they took my photo, and I filled out some documentation. It didn’t take long and we were done in less than half an hour. I put my new ID badge around my neck as we headed toward the training grounds.
“We have multiple training areas throughout the complex,” Captain Wendell explained. “I’ll give you a full tour before you leave today. But I thought we should start on the combat field.”
We left the building and walked a short distance to a large open space that was fenced off. There were around seventy to eighty recruits organized in groups at sparring circles.
“We have seventy-four recruits in this round,” Captain Wendell told me. “We’re two weeks into a ten-week training round. I’ll send you the information on each of them to review. But I’d like you to walk through the field. Do some observing. Interact with them if you like. Get a feel for the group and let me know what you think.”
Shane and Adam waited by the fence while the Captain, Austin, and I moved among the soldiers. Austin was asking Wendell some questions but I wasn’t paying much attention. My focus was on the people around me. I was glad to see a decent mix of males and females.
Everyone was wearing special uniforms made of extra stretchy fabric specifically developed for the military. Ferrin had told me it would allow them to shift back and forth without tearing, so they wouldn’t have to worry about ending up in the nude. While I could see how that could be beneficial, I wasn’t sure how practical it would be for a werewolf. Lycans maintained a humanoid shape when they shifted, and werewolves became full wolves.
I walked past a couple of the rings. Everything seemed pretty standard. I approached a third and noticed one of the pair struggling. He was half the size of his opponent and obviously injured. I stepped to the edge where the others in their group were watching.
“Are they allowed to shift yet?” I asked.
“No,” a male said. “Only human forms for now.”
I nodded, watching the smaller male get thrown on his back again. He pushed himself back up slowly.
“They can’t stop until the whistle,” the male explained. “We’ve only been working on hand-to-hand for four days. Why they would pair that poor bastard with the Tank, I have no idea.”
I winced as the guy went down again.
“Hold,” I said, stepping into the circle. “You, run a lap.” I pointed to the big male. He took off as I went to his opponent and offered him a hand. “What’s your name?”
He grabbed my hand and let me help him up. “Private Wilkins.”
“Okay, Private Wilkins,” I said. “When facing a large opponent, you can’t let their size overwhelm you. They’re still just an array of body parts. Any move can be exploited. He may be big, but you’re fast. Use that to avid contact long enough to learn their moves. This guy likes to throw punches. You’re decent at dodging, but you’re not using that to your advantage. Next time, grab his wrist, then palm-heel strike to the shoulder, here.” I showed him where to hit.
Wilkins shook his head. “The Tank’s too strong. None of my hits even make him flinch.”
I noticed his opponent, the guy they called the Tank, approaching us. I looked around at the rest of the group. They all had the same apprehensive expressions.
“Take a breather, Private,” I said, patting his shoulder. I pulled my blouse over my head, stripping down to a tank top, and tossed it to one of the others. “Size doesn’t mean a guaranteed win or loss.”
I waved the Tank over to me. He hesitated a moment but stepped back into the circle. We bowed to each other and took our stances. He was big but not as skilled as the others perceived. He quickly made the first move, coming at me and throwing a punch as I predicted. I demonstrated the actions I had told Wilkins to utilize, my strike dislocating his shoulder. I followed it up with a spin, tucking into his body and leaning forward quickly and with force, throwing Tank over me.
A grunt escaped as the wind was knocked out of him.
He rolled and jumped up, rushing me. I dodged, kicking his leg out from under him, dropping him to his knees. I struck his jaw with my left fist, swiveling to follow it up with a backhand strike to the side of the face. The force sending him to the ground.
I dropped my knee to his throat, only putting light pressure but getting the point across. I looked up at the group, realizing we had more of an audience than before. I stood, offering Tank a hand. A whistle sounded to indicate the end of the current bout.
“In real-world combat, you don’t get to pick your opponent, and they won’t be kind enough to pit against someone your size,” I addressed everyone. “Nor can you count on any code of conduct. When you’re face to face, it’s a fight to the death. Fight dirty if you have to. We’re here to teach you how to ensure your own survival as well as a victory.”
“Unit 578,” Austin called to everyone, smiling from ear to ear, “Meet your new instructor — Luna Willa.”