24 May 2008


By Enchanted Etymologist

In this dimension there is an elite unit, a division with such heightened senses that the qualities they possess cannot be taught to people without “the gift”, these personas are born. Some call them psychics, some shape-shifters and still others “The Company”. The Company whose sole purpose is to make sure a war never breaks out on the face of this plant again. Stop the battles before they even begin. I call it my job…who I am. I have many talents; I can detect strong auras and fears in human kind and also change my appearance at will. Who am I? I am COI (company officer of intelligence); I have many aliases, can speak many languages and am gifted with an aptitude for marshal arts and technological weaponry as well as armaments, who am I? I am a vastly gifted and highly trained shape changer; my name… is Holly Trueit.

The Beginning
Chapter One

“Holly, I need to talk to you!”

Startled, Holly whirled, and found herself face-to-face with her commanding officer.
“Yes, Commander Xavier sir, what can I do for you sir?” she asked, saluting, and standing at attention with her right hand clasping her left wrist.

At twenty-two Holly Trueit was smart and fit. Having graduated from the base academy at the premature age of nineteen, she had started tutoring her younger colleagues, but Holly Trueit had yet to go on her own first operation. Her assignment, she was sure, would be a mission only she could accomplish. An op that would require both cunning and street smarts. Both of which she had in abundance. If there was one person on base who could get her hands on a pound of C4 in unfamiliar territory and not arouse the suspicion of the surrounding law-enforcement system it was Holly.

This proves just how smart she really was, she knew who to make friends with in order to get the job done quickly and accurately. In their virtual reality ops she had always completed the mission first and most efficiently and many of her teachers were dumbfounded that she had not been given a mission yet. But still others knew the reason she had not been on assignment was personal. Xavier had almost completely raised her and he knew she would be in danger out in the field, although he had trouble showing it he loved her with a depth that was almost frightening. Many times he had protected Holly from dangers she didn’t even know existed.

“We have a problem;” he barked, “I want you in the situation room at 1500 hours. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied, nodding her head once curtly. As the commander stalked off to his office in the eastern quadrant of the base Holly checked her watch, 1400 hours. She had plenty of time to go and check up on her students on the training field.

Holly was one of the most accomplished shape-changers on the force and even she had problems getting warmed up. Hair color, and height were the easiest things to change, but full body transformations were the most difficult and were not attempted until graduation from the academy. Change of sex was impossible. Holly had changed her entire form more times than she could count. She had done her first shape change at the age eighteen and almost gotten expelled until Major Lyrace, the teacher of anthropoticmetamorphology, told the counsel how foolish that would be.

“This is something that is unheard of. Even I didn’t make my first shape change until I was twenty-two, and on this force a shape-changer is rare already. But she… she’s as rare as a telepath or a weaver!”

Being under scrutiny by the whole counsel was not something Holly wanted to repeat. Some of the company with the gift of shape changing had severe reactions to shape shifting; it made them deathly ill. Holly however had none of these negative effects. When she slid from one form to another it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
The training field was a large concrete room full of mirrors, (if you’ve ever been in a maze of mirrors you know what it’s like) in the center of the room there was a large mat on the floor for hand to hand combat. On the left hand wall there were racks with numchuks and samurai swords. There was a steel reinforced door at the opposite end of the room leading to a another concrete room full of automatic, semi-automatic, glocks, 9-millimeters, laser sights, knives and all manner or armory, and advanced espionage technological genius.
Through this room you proceeded to yet a third concrete room with steel reinforced plates inventively called “the target room” whose use is so obviously implied in its name.
Walking up to the cadets who were gathered on the mat Holly faced the her students, “Cadets,” she said, clapping her hands, dropping whatever weapons they held they stood at attention, hands clasped behind them.
“Yes, Professor,” they chanted in unison. There were about six in all, varying in age from seventeen to twenty-five (the average age for a cadet to graduate from the academy).
Holly was the only trainee who had grown up on base. Usually, the parents of the elect would raise them and when they were seventeen or eighteen would send them off to “college” to be trained. But Holly was very different. Once Commander Xavier located her in an orphanage he wasn’t about to leave her care up to the primal humans in whose care she was in. He brought her back to base where she was raised, mostly by him.
“Who would like to spar with me?” Holly challenged, raising an eye-brow. A cocky boy about nine-teen stepped forward, last time she had wrestled him he had won. If there was one of her students that she would like to be partnered with once he graduated it was Marc. He was the only one in her class who showed outstanding promise. Sure, the others were good at what they did too. But, if there was one trainee who really stood out from the rest and who would do very well out in the field, well in her professional opinion, it was Marc. He was dashingly handsome with his longish dark hair and midnight-blue eyes, and had a manner about him which made you want to get to know him at once, along with his gift of telepathy; this was a lethal combination as he could sway your thinking as well. Coming out of her reverie, Holly said, “All right, Marc, you’re on.”
“Don’t worry Holly; I’ll go easy on you” he said, with an arrogant shake of his dark haired mane, and a cocky smile at his companions.
“Ah,” she replied coolly, with an appraising glance, “We’ll just see about that, Marc.”
The curriculum at the academy was a mixture of taekwondo and wrestling and anything else you happened to know that could effectively disarm your opponent. They approached each other, bowed and retreated to their respective sides of the mat. When the fight started it was all Holly could do to block him. He was better than last time and that was saying something. Their limbs were a blur. He took a punch at her head; she ducked and followed up with a high kick. He dodged and kicked her legs out from under her. Holly did a back hand spring, bouncing up and doing a 360, ready to defend herself!
Feeling eyes on the back of her head she whirled to face him, just in time to get a chop across the windpipe. She back-rolled to a standing position and arched her body to avoid his flying punches that came at a speed not known to humankind. She ducked and rolled. Springing up behind him she got him in a headlock, but he was too strong for her. He shook her off and they were circling again like a pair of rambunctious lions, this time she made the first move. She ran forward and ducking beneath his flying hands she delivered a well placed punch to his stomach. He doubled over and she rammed him to the floor, pinning his wrists to the ground with her hands, her knees on his chest. But there is only one rule, in wrestling, never underestimate your opponent, Holly made this fatal mistake. He was getting his second wind and Holly didn’t stand a chance. Just as she thought she had won she was flying backwards, found her hands pinned down with a grip of iron and a heavy weight settled across her chest, a voice just inches from her ear said, “Do yield Holly?” Holly had no breath to reply as it was all being pressed out of her so she settled for nodding her head. Marc climbed up off of her and the drama of the moment was done. He held out his hand and pulled her up. Holly held up her hands in the classic yield sign. This is just what I need to be all bruised up and sweaty before the biggest meeting of my life. She thought sarcastically. Holly took some deep breaths to refill her lungs with precious life giving oxygen.
“Good game,” she choked out, “You’re better than last time. When you graduate I’ll recommend you to fight the commander. That’ll be a fun fight,” she mused, a mischievous plan growing in her mind, “You know he’s never been beaten,” Holly added, with an impertinent grin.

“Thanks, Professor, you’re not to bad yourself,” he said, a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh don’t try to save my feelings a bruising, I was lousy.” Holly said, resignedly.

“No,” he denied, “really private you do have a beautiful high kick, and you are very good I’ve seen you fight, I would never take a challenge of a samurai sword duel with you. You would give Zorro a run for his money. I’m just fantastic in the ring, or outside of it of course,” he added, with an arrogant wink, “If you were ever up against someone off base they would be human and even a shapechanger with no training would win against those weaklings.”

“I suppose,” she said, doubtfully, “Oh I’ve got to go,” Holly screeched, looking at her watch, “Bye.”

Holy ran back to the compound and straight to the situation room. She was late for the biggest meeting of her life and she was very, very sore which impaired her running skills. But she was only five minutes late surely she could just sneak in and sit somewhere in the back. This, however was not to be. Holly opened the door quietly, turning around she closed it without a sound and saw that everyone in that colossal room was staring at her.

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