Genomorph

Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

Brandi started off her morning preparing for dinner. She had another project that would take her most of the day so she had decided to make spaghetti. She started off by chopping the vegetables; onions, celery, green peppers and mushrooms while the olive oil heated on the stove. Next she chopped and then browned a pound of Italian sausage and then added that to the pot and a pound of ground chuck and drained the fat. Setting the meat aside she heated more olive oil and then added the vegetables, stirring them as she added basil, thyme, oregano and parsley. Once the veggies were tender she added the meat back in, stirring the mixture and then letting it simmer as she set up a five quart crock pop. To the crock she added two big cans of diced tomatoes and another of tomato sauce. As the crock pot heated up she went back to the meat and vegetables, adding the last ingredient, fresh minced garlic. She gave it a few quick stirs and then transferred the contents to the crock pot and covered it. Brandon had learned the value of a good crock pot years ago; turn it on, fill it up and when you came home dinner was waiting. She already had garlic bread prepared, so all she had to do when she got back was put it in the oven and cook the spaghetti.

By nine she had finished all the housework and had taken time to smoke two cigarettes before she changed into a pair of tights and a sports bra. She slipped a cotton blouse on over it all and tied the front loosely, then grabbed her purse and headed out of the house. She still felt odd carrying a purse, but considering the clothes she was wearing it made sense.

She had been asking around, looking for a gym or dojo where she could get in some sparring and one place in particular had been recommended repeatedly. It was called Keller Karate and the owner, Dylan Keller, had either won or placed in every competition he had entered for the last five years. He had two national titles and was a strong contender for the next world championship. Brandi had checked out the place a few nights before and liked the style; he did not go in for the hard core approach, but all of the students had seemed well disciplined and competent.

At this time of day the place should be nearly deserted. The last thing she needed was a crowd watching her. She set off jogging at a brisk pace down Ocean Front Walk. The gym was only two miles away and she figured a little run could help her burn off some excess energy before she got there.

There were half a dozen guys in the gym when she arrived, and every one of them stopped to stare at her as she entered. Brandi felt the now familiar thrill run through her, but fought it down.

“Don’t mind me boys, just go ahead with what you were doing,” she said cheerfully. The guys returned to their workouts and Brandi looked around the interior of the gym.

It had a large open area with a padded floor for sparring, and there were the usual bits of equipment one would expect to find in such a place. Brandi walked up to a canvas heavy bag that was not being used and gave it a half hearted punch. She realized that it would just take a momentary lapse of concentration and she could punch right through the bag.

~ Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all, ~ she thought.

“Can I help you Miss?”

Brandi turned and found herself face to face with Dylan Keller. She had the sudden thought that the posters of him on the wall did not do him justice. He was six foot two, the same height she had been when she was Brandon, and had a well toned, muscular body. His face was ruggedly handsome, and his hair was a dark brown and wavy. He gave her a roguish smile and Brandi felt her pulse quicken.

~ Breathe, dammit! You can run thirty miles and barely get winded and one cute guy smiles and you start to melt! ~

“Weren’t you in here the other night?” he asked.

“That was me.” Brandi admitted.

“So are you interested in taking some Karate classes?” Dylan asked. “We have a women’s self defense class that meets Tuesday and Thursday nights. I highly recommend it. A pretty girl like you should know how to defend herself.”

“No I don’t need classes,” Brandi told him. He had a bit of a condescending air and she hoped it was just him trying to be a salesman.

“What I’m looking for is some sparring, full contact,” Brandi told him.

“Really, well my ladies instructor, Kathy, doesn’t come in until two.” Dylan said. “I’m sure we could arrange some one on one time with her though if you’d like to come back.”

“Actually I’m more interested in sparring with you.”

“Look Miss, I don’t know .…”

“My name is Brenda Williams, but everybody calls me Brandi.”

“Well, Brandi, I’m afraid I would be way out of your league.” Dylan said. “I wouldn’t want to see a pretty lady like you get hurt.”

~ That’s it, he is going down. ~

“You mean a two time National Champion is afraid to spar with a little thing like me?” Brandi said in her most girlish tone.

“All right Brandi, if you insist, I’ll show you a few moves.” Dylan said, his voice betraying his irritation. “Let’s get you padded up.”

“Are you going to pad up?” Brandi asked sweetly.

“I honestly don’t think I need pads for you, sweetheart.” Dylan smiled. “I’ll just get some gloves so I don’t hurt you.”

As Dylan walked back towards his office, he turned to a burly young man sweeping the far side of the gym.

“Jerry, could you get this young lady some pads and help her get them on?”

Jerry nodded his head and stepped over to a closet. Brandi continued to stare after Dylan, fuming. She knew she had to get it under control or she would put him in the hospital.

“Miss?”

Brandi turned to see Jerry standing beside her, holding a collection of pads.

“Thank you sweetie, but I am fine just like this,” she told him. “I’ll just take the gloves so I don’t bruise your boss.”

Dylan returned a moment later with his gloves and looked at Brandi in confusion.

“Didn’t Jerry stay to help you get padded up?”

“I told him it wasn’t necessary.” Brandi smiled. “I’ve got plenty of padding already.”

“Ok this has gone far enough.” Dylan said, his voice edging with anger.

“Oh come on Mr. Karate champ, I’ll make it easy on your male ego,” Brandi laughed. “You don’t have to hit me, just drop me to the mat and show me how much better than me you are.”

“If you insist.” Dylan said and moved forward. He tried to use a hip throw to put Brandi down but she easily avoided his attack, and gave him a sharp slap on the butt for good measure.

~ Wow he has a really nice ass ... I can't believe I just thought that ... ~

“So you have had some training,” Dylan smiled. “What style?”

Brandi shrugged, as she tossed her purse aside, “All of them.”

“Ok let’s go again.”

Dylan came at her again and launched a few half speed punches and a very weak kick, all of which Brandi avoided easily.

“That’s strike one Dylan,” Brandi growled. Her voice had lost the teasing tone she usually affected around men. “I don’t like being treated like a girl when I fight.”

“You’re just so beautiful I can’t help myself,” Dylan grinned.

Dylan came on again, a little faster this time but still no where near what he was capable of. Brandi once more dodged all of the attacks easily before dancing out of range.

“That’s strike two. If you don’t come on full speed with the next series, I promise you I will hit you so hard it will take your breath away.”

“Ohh, show me what you got baby.”

Dylan came forward again. He had to admit that the girl had talent. He launched his third series and picked up the pace a bit more. A look of concern crossed his face as he saw the almost contemptuous way the blonde was deflecting his punches and kicks.

“Strike three,” Brandi hissed, and her hand moved so fast it was a blur. She hit Dylan in the diaphragm with her open palm, pulling the blow at the last second. Still it landed with enough force that every bit of air was forced from his lungs, and Dylan was knocked backwards off his feet. He landed on the mat and skidded about three feet, then rolled to his knees, clutching his diaphragm as he struggled to draw breath.

“This was a total waste of time,” Brandi muttered, throwing the gloves to the floor and snatching up her purse. She shot what was suppose to be an angry glare at Dylan, but came across as more of a petulant pout, and then stormed out the door.

She was walking back up Ocean Front smoking a cigarette, when she heard Dylan calling her name. She stopped and turned, glaring at him as he ran to catch her.

“Good God, you smoke too?” Dylan exclaimed.

“A pack a day and climbing,” Brandi told him.

“That’s great!” Dylan moaned. “I just got put on my ass by a teenage smoker with implants.”

“I am not a teenager! I’m twenty-one … and these are not implants!” Brandi shouted, stomping her foot, all the while realizing how childish it made her look. “You are really starting to annoy me now.”

“Ok, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for,” Dylan said in a subdued tone. “It’s just I ... well, never mind. Look, I’m sorry I took you at face value. I get a lot of people, never a girl before, but a lot of guys come in wanting to take on a ranked fighter. I made a mistake.”

Brandi sighed, “It’s not your fault Dylan, and I forgive you.”

“That was some shot you gave me,” Dylan grinned. “I’ve fought guys that couldn’t hit me that hard.”

“I hate to break it to you Dylan, but I can hit a lot harder than that.”

“Well, I’m not going to make the same mistake twice and doubt you,” Dylan said. “Why don’t you come back to the gym and give me another chance. But we both have to pad up … I have my pride you know.”

It turned out to be a decent workout. Brandi still had to hold back, she knew the padding would not save Dylan from injury if she hit him full force. But Dylan was true to his word and gave it his all. He even managed to score a few hits, nothing that Brandi couldn’t have taken without the pads, but the workout accomplished what she had wanted. For the last week she had been feeling a need for action, just as she had her first night in LA. She had even snapped at Melissa and Karen a few times for no good reason, and of course apologized immediately.

They stripped off their pads and Jerry came over to gather them up. Then Dylan showed Brandi to the office so she could collect her blouse and purse, which he had put there for safe keeping.

“Can I offer you a bottle of water?” Dylan asked.

Brandi was feeling decidedly aroused, and her mind was screaming at her to say no. That was not the kind of workout she had come here for. Yes, Dylan was cute, and even nice once you got past the bluster, but she was definitely not going to let her libido carry her away.

“Sure, that would be great.”

Dylan pulled two bottles of water from his mini fridge and passed one to Brandi.

“Have you ever competed?” Dylan asked after taking a swig of water. “I mean, I’m not kidding, you could beat any woman in the world, hell I think you could beat any man.”

“It’s not about competition for me Dylan, it’s about survival,” Brandi told him, a bit testily.

“I’m sorry, I just seem to say the wrong things to you,” Dylan said.

Brandi sighed, “It really isn’t your fault. I’m just a little on edge. That’s why I was looking for someone to spar with.”

“Yeah, I can understand that,” Dylan said. “A good match always helps me when I need to blow off some steam. I hope you’ll come back and give me another chance. And I confess, you pulled some moves out there I’ve never seen before. I’d be interested in seeing you in action some more.”

Brandi regarded him for a moment before deciding that last line was a compliment and not a come on. She actually found that she was a little disappointed that he had not come on to her. He really was a nice guy, once some of the bluster had been taken out of him.

“I tell you what,” Brandi said slowly. “Why don’t you sign me up for a three month membership.”

“Great!” Dylan smiled. “I look forward to our next match.”

*****

“Excuse me Mr. Mercer, but I have something you might want to see.”

Reginald Mercer looked at the man with annoyance and extended his hand for the printout. He scanned the page and his annoyance quickly turned to rage.

“This is two weeks old!” he bellowed. “Why wasn’t this brought to my attention sooner?”

“The description didn’t match the subject so the report was given a low priority, sir,” the man stammered.

“And just what part of ‘able to alter form and appearance’ didn’t you people understand!”

Mercer stormed into his office and read the report in detail. It had started with a bulletin from the California Bureau of Investigation looking for a young woman with red hair for questioning involving a truck hijacking ring. According to a follow up, the girl in question had, according to the hijackers themselves, taken on ten men, killing one and injuring several others seriously. And all that after she had reportedly been shot four times. There was no further follow up as the investigators had discounted the story due to a total lack of evidence.

Two fucking weeks ago! Mercer raged inside. And in California!

They had put enormous resources into finding the bitch and all the while they were looking in the wrong place! They had even pulled resources from the overall plan to reprogram anyone Anderson might have attempted to contact.

Mercer snatched up his phone and began giving orders to redirect numerous teams to California. The incident had occurred west of Bakersfield, but by now she could be anywhere. But the fact that she had been in California then, the place they had been certain she wanted them to think she was going to as misdirection, made him confident she was still there. They would concentrate their efforts in Los Angeles but just to be safe he sent teams to San Francisco and San Diego, as well as a few more to canvas the areas in between.

Mercer looked out through the glass of his office windows and saw the head analyst looking nervously in his direction. He smiled and picked up his phone again, buzzing the man’s desk.

“Yes, Mr. Mercer?”

“I apologize for snapping at you Mr. Martin,” Mercer said, his tone conciliatory. “That was good work to catch this after all this time. This information is very sensitive and it needs to be delivered to Evan Mitchell at the lab in Nevada. I’d like you to deliver it personally.”

“Certainly, Mr. Mercer!” Martin said, relief evident in his voice.

“Arrangements will be made for your travel immediately,” Mercer said and hung up, giving the man a thumbs up.

The lab people had been asking for a test subject, now that they had restored partial function to the Forerunner machine. He was certain that Miss Martin would be a lovely secretary once they were done.