CIA Academy of Espionage

Washington, DC

The War Zone's "Morgue"

December 17th, 2015

1546 hours

Ben POV

As we walked to the morgue, everyone on the Red Team gave me high fives, fist bumps, and claps on the back.

"Nice work, Ben!"

"Doggone good strategy, dude!"

"That was amazing!"

"You're one a heck of a leader!"

I blushed from the praise. "Thanks guys, but y'all are the real heroes. You executed the plan," I said loudly.

Several people facepalmed simultaneously. "Just accept the praise! Stop being so humble!" they shouted in annoyance.

Feeling a little scared, I nodded furiously. I hung back, waiting on three teammates in particular.

"Ben! That was brilliant!" Zoe exclaimed, giving me a hug.

I hugged her back. "Thanks, Zo! You were great too!" I released her from the hug to do the secret handshake with Mike.

"Dang, bro! That was freakin' spectacular, eh?" he said in a Scottish accent, almost word-for-word quoting a spy film save for a cuss that he replaced with "freakin'." What was that movie called again?

Ah, nevermind. Back to the story!

"Oh yeah. You did great, man!" I said. I then stopped to look at Erica. We stared at each other for a few seconds, when Zoe got an idea.

"Mike, come on! Let's get some hot chocolate before it runs out!" she says with a mischievous grin.

Mike frowned. "Thanks Zoe, but—"

"Mike, come on!" she said, still smiling but having a tinge of annoyance in her voice. She grabbed his hand and pulled him away.

Mike blushed from the contact, but obediently followed Zoe. I took note, knowing it would be perfect blackmail material.

I looked at Erica, and neither of us spoke until I decided to break the silence.

"So... did you have fun?" I asked nervously.

She thought for a moment before nodding slightly. "I'll admit, it wasn't too bad. They weren't too dumb," she said.

I smiled. "I'm glad you came and enjoyed it."

She didn't respond, but she smiled back.

"RIPLEY! HALE! GET OVER HERE NOW!" shouted one of our instructors.

Erica nodded. "C'mon, Ripley. Let's debrief," she said, patting my shoulder as she strode past me.

Third Person POV

What Erica didn't see was that while Ben had a tinge of red on his face from the contact, he also had an expression that disappeared as soon as it came. Not embarrassment, or even happiness from being touched by his crush, but... fear?

Ben POV

I shook myself out of my thoughts and went into debrief.

Inside, everyone was waiting, including our two Conducting Warfare instructors, Professors Alex Mason and Frank Woods.  While they shared this class along with Firearms Handling, Woods taught the Physical Training class himself, while Mason taught Counter-Interrogation.

They are the best instructors in this school by far, with Professors Simon and Crandall being the only ones to come close to them in reputation and competence. They were also the only instructors apart from Simon and Crandall that Erica had respect for. Even more surprising, she said that they two are on the same tier of excellence as her grandfather, albeit slightly less fit. I quickly realized that these were likely the only two people, barring Cyrus and Catherine, that could reliably beat Erica in a fight. My respect for them went even higher.

If I haven't made it clear, these guys are the real deal. They were in the United States Marine Corps Force Reconnaissance (Mason was a Captain and Woods was a Master Sergeant), eventually getting recruited into the CIA's Special Activities Division Special Operations Group (SAD/SOG). For that reason we didn't know that much about them. We were lucky enough to find out that they were SAD/SOG during the Cold War, which included involvement within MACV-SOG (Military Assistance Command, Vietnam - Studies and Observations Group) during the Vietnam War. Rumor has it that they prevented World War III and took part in Operation 40, coming close to assassinating Castro, only to have shot a decoy instead. They've also done much more than that, but they primarily took part in black operations (covert or clandestine operations that are secret and not attributable to the organization carrying it out; it's like this: if the operatives are caught or killed, their country will disavow them, denying any and all knowledge of their actions and existence).

As many leaks as there are at this school, it was darn near impossible to get any information on black ops.  They're called that for a reason.

Now, the men are old, but still full of fire. They're brothers in all but blood, bickering and laughing together. Woods also likes to curse. A lot. Mason is the one to rein him in, reminding him that some of us were pretty young to hear this stuff. Woods always says that we would hear it soon enough, better to get it done now rather than later. Mason always says this, though: "C'mon, brother. What would David think?" With that question, Woods stops cursing, and the effect lasts for a day, maximum.

I had also built a good rapport with these two, as they were two of my favorite instructors. Not only are they total badasses, they're relatively congenial and are excellent teachers. We maintained a professional instructor-student relationship, but we had become friends.

"Well, I gotta say: that was a helluva strategy, Red Team," said Woods. My team cheered, while the Blue Team glowered at us.

"Mind telling everyone the full plan in detail?" asked Mason, who had amusement in his eyes.

Every Red Team member turned towards me. I tried stepping back, but Zoe and Mike shoved me forward, and I was at the front of the crowd of Reds.

"So Ripley, you telling us or am I gonna have to wait all frickin' day?!" 'asked Woods.

I gulped. I still had some stage fright. I stammered my way through the plan, explaining how we divided into fireteams, how we coordinated our attacks, and how we took the OPs for an advantage.

Mason nodded. "Very impressive. What about the 'friendly fire' for the Blue Team?" he added, smirking.

I glanced at the Blue Team members painted royal blue, who seemed to have begun piecing together that I'm the one that hit them.

"Well... one of my teammates called for reinforcements. I knew we couldn't send shooters, but since we captured the OP and the mortar, we told them to give a grid, as we didn't have the equipment to aim with a laser designator's assist. She gave the location, and we aimed and rained fire," I said.

The blue-covered Blue Team members glared at me. "So that was you?!" they shouted.

"SHUT UP!" bellowed Woods, silencing everyone and keeping things from escalating further.

Did I mention that these guys are incredibly scary when they want to be?  As in, as frightening if not more frightening than Cyrus Hale?  I guess that's why they're Devil Dogs (nickname for US Marines).

Mike chose that moment to stand up. "There's one problem with his story, sir!"

Mason frowned. "Explain, Brezinski."

Zoe stood up. "It may have been a group effort, but Ben's the one that came up with the plan and saved me and my fireteam!"

The rest of my teammates shouted their assent, while Erica remained silent. However, there was a small smile tugging at her lips, barely noticeable by me.

I tried to protest, but the Red Team shouted, "BRO, JUST TAKE THE DAMN PRAISE AND STOP BEING SO FRIGGIN' MODEST!"

Our instructors were watching with amusement. They broke when my team told me to accept the compliment, and probably laughed loud enough to be heard on the other side of Washington, DC.

"Damn good work, kid!" Woods laughed.

"You'd be good in SAD," chuckled Mason. "Helluva tactician, and you definitely can keep a secret with that humility."

Woods looked at his watch, apparently realizing that time was almost up.

"Alright! Here's the deal. 401 Blues, y'all get B minuses on your exam. 401 Reds, As all around. All my 101s, 201s, and 301s, you get your lowest homework grade removed, so it'll no longer affect your overall grade. You'll get your report cards by next semester," he said.

"Younger classes, you know your Christmas break assignments. 401, yours is simple: study up on the theory of room clearing in close-quarters battle. We begin urban combat next semester. Until then, have a good break and stay safe," said Mason, nodding.

Everyone cheered and filed out of the classroom, saying goodbye or Merry Christmas to the instructors. I looked around for my friends, but they had all disappeared. I went up to my instructors.

"Professor Woods, Professor Mason, thank you both for teaching me again," I said respectfully.

They nodded. "You're a good student, Ripley. Not a suck-up, but definitely trying to be good. So I can say this: it's been a damn pleasure," said Woods, shaking my hand and grinning.

"You did good today, kid. You got an A+ on the midterm. Keep it up, and don't let us down, OK? Have a good one," said Mason with a small smile as he shook my hand.

I nodded. "Thank you, sirs. Happy Holidays!" I finished as I walked out the door.

I strolled through the campus, feeling good about how well the midterm went.  I was broken out of my feeling of euphoria by the sight of my other three favorite instructors.

Wondering who Alex Mason and Frank Woods are?  They're from the Call of Duty: Black Ops franchise.  I don't own these characters.  I'm using them in my story because they're awesome.

I don't believe that in the real Spy School stories, there's a holiday break ("Evil never takes holidays.  Why should we?" or something along those lines).  I understand that this somewhat breaks the canon universe, but bear with me.  It's necessary to allow the story to progress.  They still have homework, though.  For this class, Ben and Zoe have to study up on room-clearing in close-quarters battle (CQB).  The younger classes (including Mike, who I'm fairly certain is one year below Ben and Zoe) have their own homework assignments, likely studying up on warfare theory as well (it's implied that they'll do the practical portion when the come back, but they need to know the theory first).

I hope y'all liked it (this took a while...)!  As always, if you have any questions, especially about the terminology, feel free to ask!  I'll try to respond ASAP.

Until next time, folks!  Stay safe!

- ADF-2