Your relationship with your boss was an interesting one to say the least.

The Big Guy, as she was called - who you'd actually come to figure out who's name was Celia - made every man's balls suck right back into their assholes whenever she'd walk past, or god forbid call them into her office.

Unfortunately enough for you, shed been assigned as not just your boss, but your supervising agent whilst you were trained up, the first time she had ever been given that role.

And so you spent the majority of your Tuesday afternoons having the absolute shit beaten out of you whilst she 'educated' you on the basics and not so basics of hand-to-hand combat, gunmanship, and tracking with cartogaphy.

Though despite this, she'd come to respect you as a fighter and as an agent, and on a few occasions had offered to clean up a few of your bigger injuries (that she caused, mind you) with some antiseptic liquid and gauze.

You hadn't got to that part in today's session.

A sharp groan left your lips as she slammed you backwards to the ground, circling around your limp form in her red tank top and leggings, one hand on her hip like it was just another Tuesday... well, it was. For her.

"You're pulling your punches! A cricket could do more damage," Came her crisp voice, only slightly breathy from your sparring, nowhere near your level of exhaustion, "Again."