The week blurred into a blink that was fast even by immortal standards. 

The day of meeting with Vanguard loomed and instead of the meeting room I expected, I found myself on the rooftop of their skyscraper in Canary Wharf watching a helicopter drop before us.

Quinn was no doubt immersed in the middle of her working day and there was little point alerting her to the change in plans... We hadn't left the country after all.

Two men I recognised from our initial meeting stood to my left chatting over the heavy winds that picked up as the blades beat closer. I kept my hands in my winter jacket and watched emotionlessly. They seemed eager to see me show face, as if they considered I wouldn't. Then again, I couldn't imagine many other candidates with the same credentials...

The helicopter finally dropped onto the pad and began slowing its rotor blades.

A man and woman stepped out of the doorway once the co-pilot drew it back. The winds ruffled her hair. The first thing I noticed was the distinct lack of formality compared to their counterparts on the roof. Adorned in simple compression shirts that hugged their muscled form and combats on their legs. I noted the distinct brand of combat boot I had recognised in military contractors and the callouses on their hands before I leaned in to shake them both.

"Tara Fletcher! I've heard a lot already!" The brunette called over the rotor blades with a grin, early-thirties, sharp features and intelligent eyes... interesting. 

"None of it good!" The male beside her winked, as he reached for my hand and shook it firmly. I quickly scanned him, noting the close-cut shave and buzz cut over his entire head... He couldn't look less civilian if he tried. I think that was the point.

"Good to meet you." I agreed over the rotors, which I noticed hadn't shut down. They were ready to go.

"I'll cut to the chase, Tara. We don't usually bother with much of the formality. We're a very hands on company and operate that way." The brunette supplied, still nameless and entirely intent on making sense of me as quickly as I was gauging her.

"–you afraid of flying?" The military cookie-cutter beside her asked.

"It's not an issue." I replied cooly. He waggled an eyebrow and a pang of sharp nostalgia struck me. He was so much like Jamie. That arrogant confidence and ready smile, the only thing missing was the Irish accent.

"Brilliant, we'll debrief you inside." The brunette nodded to me, turning to the pilot side and spinning her fingers in a signal. The rotors immediately increased in pace and I raised an eyebrow. Apparently we were in a hurry... I glanced at my watch. The day was still young.

I was passed a headset and seated within the suddenly crowded cabin in seconds. Two suits, two ex-military types and an immortal in a helicopter... What could possibly go wrong?

"I heard you speak a few languages." The military equivalent of Jamie blurted, before we had moved off the ground.

"I didn't catch your name?" I returned instead, with a slow smile.

It immediately reversed the dynamic, shifted power and put the focus back on them. He smiled in surprised and shook his head.

"Of course–I'm sorry, it's Mack. And this is Ash–" He jutted his thumb over to the similarly attired brunette. She nodded with a small smirk at his informality. 

"We haven't been around... civil company for a while." Ash supplied, meeting my eyes.

Now, that did catch my curiosity. Contracts in hostile countries yes... but prolonged periods of time, was not what I signed up for.

"How long was that?" I asked calmly, over the comm.

They glanced at each other with a conspirators look before he answered.

"Three days."

"Enough to lose your etiquette?" I drawled, with an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

"You have no idea..." Mack grinned darkly.

Oh, mortal but I do. How I would love to return that dark look with all the decades of my own. But a mortal of my years wouldn't know of such things. I was just about passible with military experience on my credentials. Too young for anything else.

I simply plastered mild curiosity on my face when I returned his gaze.

"Am I here to discuss the terms of my contract?" I cut to the point, as the helicopter pitched to the south and London started to disappear beneath us at a rapid rate.

They glanced at each other. A few heart rates increased in the helicopter and perspiration increased. I almost internally rolled my eyes. Someone wasn't giving me the whole truth and I didn't particularly want to ground this aircraft the difficult way...

I sighed through my nose and looked at each one of them slowly.

"I may not look it, but this isn't my first time. I want the terms of my employment and subsequent deployment within your organisation or we're going to have to... renegotiate." I finished slowly, emphasising the word.

Ash was first to find the words.

"Oh, Tara–that won't be an issue. But you will need to be tested first and foremost. You understand we can't just have anyone operating within our organisation." She clarified, leaning back in her seat and watching me.

"So, I'm here for a test?" I asked, unable to keep the amusement out of my voice.

"Just to confirm you are what you say you are on that impressive CV of yours." Mack quipped, crossing his arms and flexing his fingers beneath. 

Perhaps it was doubt in those raised vitals. How could I look this way and have such good references, multiple languages, skills in combat environments and driving... I didn't look like Ash or Mack. I looked more like the suits sat on either side of me–which begged the question of why they were here at all.

The next hour was spent in silence. We cut through the southern English countryside and closer to the coast by the moment. When I had eyes on the edges of it I knew exactly where we were and its easiest access points. I knew the region, the forest, and now the location that we descended upon.

I'd seen this type of structure before.

A kill house. 

A skeleton of a building, torn out from the inside save for sparse pieces of furniture, windowless holes and usually plaster or easily breakable walls. The firearms teams frequented them when they prepared for drug busts–or we had heard morbid tales from the Irish man himself–

"Something I'm sure you're familiar with–with your background of course." Mack stated, watching the structure come into clear view as we neared the ground.

Was there a mocking edge in that voice? I'd enjoy removing it. 

"I'm sure you'll show me the ropes regardless." I gave him a smile, that suggested anything but teamwork.

He only seemed to enjoy the challenge in it. He flung the helicopter door open before the co-pilot and gestured to me. I tore the headset off and cast it behind as I leapt from the cabin and faced the building ahead. Now would be a good time to muster up some form of apprehension. Maybe I could doubt myself just for him...

The remaining four leapt out behind and the helicopter wound down its rotors fully this time.

I glanced at Ash as she relayed refuelling instructions to her pilots and turned to me. I tucked my hands behind me and ignored the vibration of my mobile going off near my chest.

"I won't waste any time getting into it." Ash began, walking us in the direction of another smaller building off to the right of the four storied kill house. "–Vanguard, needs to see two things from its operators. Competence and initiative." She ticked off on her fingers as we moved.

One of the suits got the doors to what quickly revealed itself as an armoury. 

"One will be obvious to us. The other... Well you can't train it."

That much they had right.

"–Mack will get you prepared." She finished, nodding and stepping back.

"And you will be..?" I asked, watching her with one hand on the doors we had come through.

"Passing or failing you of course." She smirked, then disappeared through them.

I snorted, turning back to the armour's window. It was very similar to signing out police equipment so I was well aware of the mortal protocols. They suited me with holsters, body armour, magazine pouches and many other useless pieces of equipment that would just get in the way–but I played the game. 

"Look at you... almost look like you could do some damage." Mack drawled, suddenly adorned in his own armour and custom build that housed his magazines on various parts of his body.

"I didn't realise they re-tested their employees... I suppose not everyone can meet the standard." I uttered back.

Instead of the predictable snark reply I expected, he boomed out a laugh in surprise and holstered his pistol before shaking his head.

"Fair play, Tara."

"Fletcher." I answered, snapping back the pistol and housing it in the holster with an ease I probably should have slowed. He didn't fail to notice and glanced away with a slight frown.

"Okay, Fletcher." He said more seriously. "These are sim rounds, have you shot with them before?"

"No, but I know they don't tickle." I finished, thinking of the exaggeration Jamie had made when he retold the tale of his experience with simulation rounds. Designed to inflict realistic pain without the damage a round would do. 

I'd be careful not to take a round... the lack of a bruise would raise far too many questions.

"Exactly." He chuckled, "–I'll be part of the enemy squad inflicting that pain."

I wisely didn't answer that remark. This career was his choice and he was stepping into this house with me after all. 

"We're testing you for accuracy, reaction speed and most importantly, adaptability. You won't be working in a team here–" Perfection. "–so it's up to you how you do under the pressure. Oh, and don't forget your hearing defence..." His heart rate altered after he said this, which let me know it wouldn't just be sim rounds the mortals tested me against. If I had to take an educated guess, I'd say they were going to use concussion or flash grenades, but that was going to be more of a surprise I suppose.

"I'm ready." I answered simply.

He smirked at me, not buying the calm I was displaying. I could only imagine the state of the mortals that got this far through lying. That would be an amusing day for recruitment.

Unfortunately I wasn't such a candidate.