Text @ Teach
Sam: Oops?
Sam: Showed you mine, now show me yours.
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Text @ Teach
Sam: Oops?
Sam: Showed you mine, now show me yours.

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Trained Killer(s)|| Wade & Sam
Sam shifted from foot to foot, her hand out but not quite touching the cold metal doors of the warehouse front. She’d followed his directions easily enough--walking to an unknown location was slightly more difficult when it wasn't GPS compatible, but following leads had taught her to be resourceful, taught her to learn the city streets like the back of her hand. Still, it wasn’t every day you tracked down a known mercenary and showed up on his front porch--or was it a training zone? Training. The word was thick on Sam’s tongue, not anything she’d ever expected, not the life she’d set out for herself when she’d covered her walls in those little strips of National Geographic, charted out plane rides to every country in the world. So why did it sound so damn right?
She pushed, and the door swung open, the playground where she’d learn to fight, learn to kill, laid out before her. There was no turning back. Well, technically, she was sure she could run away, that “turning back” was still definitely an option and the door behind her was still open, but it felt more definite to think ‘this is it,’ a ‘whole new life,’ and ‘wait, what is that smell?’
We’re Survivors [F.U.B.A.R. Friday] : Wade & Sharon
The speech had been going fine. It had almost seemed like no problems would occur for the rest of the day- not when the sun was shining so pleasantly and the breeze was flitting away any heat from those in the audience. In hindsight, all those lovely factors should have almost promised Sharon that something bad would happen.
The first shot sent Carter’s hair to stand on end, and she looked towards the initial sound of the gun as people began to scream in panic and stampede away from the gunman. Another shot rang out, this one in a different location than before, and she saw a secret service agent fall to the ground, clasping his shoulder in pain.
When the woman next to her turned and appeared to draw on Sharon as well, she gritted her teeth and moved to clutch her wrist. Fury was making her actions faster than normal as she dodged one uppercut and then another, battling to get the knife out of reach and neutralize the threat.
Her fight seemed to attract more agents around her, each closing in on Sharon to better attack her. With an angry grunt, Sharon shoved the woman back into her fellow agents and spun around, trying to count how many agents she was squaring off against. So long as the fight was focused on her and not the civilians escaping from the gunshots, she was more than happy to square off. “Well this is hardly a fair fight,” she called out, counting off the three men and knife wielder she just pushed back. “With only four of you against me, I would think you all know better than to bet on your chances.” She smirked and kicked her leg out to the man to her left, feeling her foot connect to flesh before spinning around to go fist to fist against another agent.