~MOUSE~
In the dimly lit training area, a rhythmic thud echoed as sweat-soaked droplets fell from Ophelia's face.
Ophelia's lithe frame gracefully evaded the powerful swings of Askel.
His mop of long, tousled brown hair grazed the collar of his snugly fitting black tank top.
His piercing brown eyes held a fierce determination as they locked onto Ophelia's agile movements.
The harsh fluorescent lights overhead flickered, casting intermittent shadows on the bare concrete walls.
Askel's muscular arms were encased in two black gloves, the leather creaking with each forceful punch he intercepted from her.
His British accent cut through the air, adding a touch of charm to the intense atmosphere.
"Shift your feet, love" he exclaimed with a grin, his voice a perfect blend of encouragement and amusement.
Ophelia, a formidable force in her own right, responded with a series of swift jabs and dodges.
She didn't need to shift her feet. Her stance was perfect.
But men always thought they knew best.
The scent of effort permeated the room as their bodies moved in a synchronized dance.
The sound of their heavy breathing punctuated the otherwise silent space.
She didn't wear any gloves, she never had. Oddly, she liked the pain.
The surface of her knuckles glistened with a mixture of perspiration and determination as she slammed them into the gloves again and again.
The man's laughter reverberated in the confined space as he playfully taunted her.
"You're quick, Mouse,"
Ophelia smirked at his words, her focus unbroken, as she countered with a lightning-fast combination of hooks and uppercuts.
Askel had arrived late that morning, a friendly giant with an infectious sense of humour and eyes that seemed to devour her whole.
He was a flirt.
She encouraged it for fun.
His constructive criticism and lighthearted banter had transformed her sessions into a blend of hard work and amusement.
Initially, she had been ready to punch Askel for his unwanted input.
But her annoyance evaporated when he adjusted her posture with a gentle touch, revealing the keen eye of an experienced trainer.
In that moment of correction, she felt a surge of a newfound alliance.
"Speaking of," Ophelia said, her voice punctuated by the rhythm of her huffed breath.
Her arms flew in a twist of jabs and punches, a dance of controlled aggression.
As Askel observed, he raised a brow, intrigued by the sudden change in topic.
"Tell me more about the Vipers," she said, her movements fluid as she twisted her torso and delivered a powerful roundhouse kick into Askel's waiting glove.
He nodded, recognizing her curiosity and the need for distraction during the rigorous training.
"Notorious faction within the Russian Cartel. Ruthless and cunning, they specialize in covert operations, assassinations, and smuggling."
Ophelia's focus remained unwavering as she absorbed the information, her blows still finding their mark on Askel's gloves.
"They're not your average criminal organization," Askel continued, his gaze fixed on her.
"They operate in the shadows like we do, taking on contracts that range from corporate espionage to eliminating high-profile targets. The Vipers are known for their efficiency and discretion. If someone hires them, they get the job done."
Ophelia's brow furrowed in thought as she continued her assault on the training gloves.
"What kind of contracts do they usually take?" She asked as she readied her stance.
Askel tilted his head slightly, considering her question.
"It varies. They're hired for everything from eliminating rival gang leaders to retrieving valuable assets to political and military intelligence."
As the details unfolded, Ophelia's movements became more deliberate, as if absorbing the information had added a new layer to her determination.
"What are they smuggling?" Ophelia asked, her movements slowing as she absorbed the weight of Askel's revelation.
Askel paused, catching his breath, and then responded.
"Weapons, drugs, recently high-grade weaponry. Missiles, to be precise."
Ophelia's eyes widened, a mix of concern and curiosity swirling in their depths.
"Missiles? What does a cartel need missiles for?"
Askel took a moment before explaining.
"The Vipers are not just your run-of-the-mill criminals. They deal in arms on a global scale. Those missiles could end up in the hands of terrorists, rival factions, or anyone with enough coin to purchase destruction. Our job," he continued, his tone serious.
"Is to find and infiltrate the right Cartel bases, gather the intel on these shipments, retrieve the missiles, and uncover who made them and why they're being smuggled."
Ophelia absorbed the gravity of the mission, her mind racing with the implications.
"Then we take out who made them, who is smuggling them, and get paid?" Ophelia asked with a huff as she landed another powerful kick.
Askel, impressed by her determination, smiled and winked.
"Ding ding ding," he affirmed in a flirting tone, acknowledging her understanding of the mission.
She nodded, feeling the weight of determination as sweat coated her body.
A rueful smile played on her lips as she rolled her shoulders, the strain of the rigorous training evident.
"Sounds easy enough," Ophelia said, wiping sweat from her head, her chest rising and falling quickly.
"You're a funny Little Mouse," Askel's deep voice resonated through the air, punctuated by a hearty laugh.
His muscular frame contrasted sharply with Ophelia's slender silhouette as she stepped back looking him over with thought.
He was handsome enough.
A strong jaw and, a charming smile.
Didn't do much for her but she liked to have fun. Blow off steam, and he seemed to be handing it to her on a platter.
His bright blue eyes were dark with desire.
The dim light flickered overhead, casting shadows that danced across the room.
Ophelia's face lit up with a wide smile, her eyes fixed on Askel's face.
Oooh Little Mouse. He was flirting.
The relentless sounds of training continued around them, a symphony of dedication and discipline.
The distinctive rhythm of König's footfalls on the polished floor echoed as he relentlessly assaulted a punching bag nearby.
He seemed to be ignoring them, yet paying them a lot of attention at the same time. Shooting them looks over his shoulder.
Ophelia watched him as each of his strikes reverberated with power and determination, the room pulsating with energy.
She was surprised he hadn't broken the bag with how hard he was hitting it.
It made her stomach flip again in a way she was not comfortable with.
Turning away from the Colonel she beamed wickedly at the man in front of her.
"Oh, I'll show you, little," Ophelia declared with a mischievous smirk, her words hanging in the air with a flirtatious tone.
The punching bags fell silent behind her, the sound of König's feet pausing in their routine as he heard her words.
Ophelia assumed a focused stance, her eyes never leaving Askel's face.
The air crackled with anticipation as she nodded confidently at the reluctant Askel, who observed the unfolding challenge with a mixture of caution and curiosity.
Her look and stance said 'Fight me'.
Askel's scepticism hung in the air like a palpable tension, his gaze fixed on Ophelia's face.
The furrow of his brow betrayed his reluctance, a silent protest against the impending clash that seemed to be unfolding.
"You're serious?" he finally voiced his disbelief, the words cutting through the ambient sounds of the training room.
His eyes lingered on her, questioning the sanity of the challenge that Ophelia had just thrown into the ring.
Ophelia, however, responded with a nonchalant roll of her eyes, a playful defiance that danced in the depths of her gaze.
"I thought I was a Little Mouse?" she retorted sweetly, her tone dripping with a teasing charm.
She stood her ground, a smirk playing on her lips as she awaited Askel's response.
Askel, seemingly resigned to the turn of events, pulled the gloves from his hands with a subtle shake of his head.
The leather creaked softly as he dropped them to the ground and turned to face her.
"Alright, love," he conceded with a half-smile, taking a few purposeful steps forward.
The word "love" lingered in the air, a subtle heat.
Askel's eyes met Ophelia's, a spark of determination flickering in their depths.
Ophelia's smile widened at the endearment, a fleeting moment of connection amid the training room's intensity.
"If you win, maybe I'll let you take me out," she said with a wide smirk as she stretched her neck and raised her fists.
Askel's grin grew as he cracked his knuckles.
"Sounds like a deal," he said with a smirk as he began to circle around her.
"What happens if you win?" he asked as he crossed behind her.
Ophelia felt her smile grow as she turned around to face him.
"You stop calling me Little Mouse," She purred as she let her eyes trail over his form.
Her joking quickly deteriorated as she felt the burning scrutiny emanating from König behind her.
It felt as if his eyes were tracing the contours of her back, an almost tangible gaze that left an invisible trail on her skin.
She tried to ignore it.
But it felt as if he was glaring at her. So annoyed with her that he stopped what he was doing to stare at her.
She couldn't help but revel in the attention.
She really liked getting under his skin.
~~~~~~~~~~