It had been an exhausting day. From the moment they’d loaded their guns with bullets, they’d only stopped shooting to reload. Pierre was very helpful, but he also pushed the three to shoot until they’d managed to hit the bullseye several times.

“Good job Nyla, I see you’ve hit the center once.” Pierre commented as he walked by Nyla.

“Pierre, I can’t do any better than this. The only other gun I’ve handled in my life is an antique one or two that didn’t even shoot anymore.”

“You’re an antiques dealer, aren’t you?”

“Yes, and what do you do?”

Pierre’s appearance of strength faltered for a moment. “I don’t have a job. I just work for the Company.”

“So if Andre does the little recruitment talk, Sterling is the communicator, and Petros is the daddy of it all, what does that make you? Weapons specialist?”

“I guess. I’m the most qualified for the position right now.”

“Well then, you do have a job - weapons specialist for the Company.”

A spark of life flickered in Pierre’s warm brown eyes. “You’re right. I do have a job.”

Nyla aimed at the target, applied pressure to the trigger, and the bullet shot out with a bang - burrowing itself into the center of the target. “And I have hit the center twice now.” She told him in a matter-of-fact voice.

((Crappy beginning, but I don't feel like writing anymore right now.))
Nyla had been picked up from the airport in the morning, along with two other new operatives to the organization. Pierre had spoken a few simple words that signified he was who he said he was, and then they were all set to go to their training grounds. It was a silent ride to the remote location in France, outside of Paris in the countryside. They passed fields of green and lavender, and she spent most of the ride admiring the countryside.

It didn't seem to take long for them to reach a small white farmhouse. They deposited their things in their respective rooms, then met up in a large, empty room with a pale wooden floor and whitewashed walls. As Pierre left retreive something, the new operatives introduced themselves.

“Hi, I’m Kavita.” Kavita was a petite, slender, and rather attractive Indian woman.

“I am Takashi.” The Japanese man gave a small bow.

“I’m Nyla, nice to meet you both. Have you been here very long?”

“No, we arrived here just today.”

“Yes, I met with Andre in the Netherlands at the restaurant on last Tuesday. Today is the first day I am here.” Takashi had the politest way of saying things.

“So what brought you guys here?”

“I want to honor my ancestors by bringing to life the truth. My father was in Japan’s military. I feel it is my duty to him to find the truth.”

“I am tired of the constant suffering around the world. I come from a small, poverty-stricken village, and I witnessed suffering everyday. I felt helpless and unable to do anything. I hope I can make a difference here. Why are you here?”

“I saw a man killed who fought for what he believed in.”

“You seek to avenge the death of another?”

“Yes and no. I think it was wrong the man, Franz, was murdered. Giving up his fight would only be advantegeous to the killers, so I am filling his place and continuing his fight. In some ways, I, like you, want to make a difference.”

At that moment Pierre returned to the room, his arms full of several white boxes. “Here,” he handed two boxes to each of them. “Go ahead and open them.”

Nyla picked up the larger of the two boxes in front of her and opened it. Inside was a standard sized handgun, secured in the box by white styrofoam. She took the weapon out and ran her hand down its cool, black metal side. Never before had she handled a gun, aside from the occasional antique weapon that came into her store. But nothing that seemed to hold the magnitude of power she now held in her hand. She set the weapon back down in the box before opening the next little box, which held two styrofoam encased items. The first was a black metal cylinder that Nyla guessed, based on movies she’d seen, was a silencer. Next to the silencer was a small cartridge of bullets.

“If you haven’t guessed already, today is the start of our arms training. This will probably be the quickest gun handling course in the world. By this evening you will be able to shoot with relative accuracy. Let’s take a quick walk to the outside shooting range.” The three trainees followed Pierre down several corridors to a small field set up with targets. “This is your gun.” Pierre took his gun from the holster around his waist. “Loading is a piece of cake. You just take the cartridge, shove it up the butt of the gun,” Pierre demonstrated as he explained, “And the gun automatically locks the cartridge in. You’re set to go. Now you just have to learn how to shoot it....”