The others began to assemble for the run. There was Belasy and Izkry-Izkry did all the talking for Belasy, as far as Maria could tell-as well as Jonathan, a scholarly Mormon man; Oscar, an irritating young man from Spain; Kaneda, who Maria knew to be half-German and half-Japanese, which was quite unfortunate, given the current state of the world; Anton, from France; and last but not least, Zhanna, the third woman of the group.

And of course, there was Captain Stevens. He was an annoyingly righteous little holier-than-thou goody two-shoes who would have done anything for a commanding officer. Maria thought very little of him, if she was perfectly honest with herself. 

Maria was aware that she stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the group of gifted individuals. Aside from being a woman, she was also the only woman who hadn't received any formal combat training and the only woman who had no combat experience, though she believed herself to be quite adept with slender hairpin daggers or letter-openers, and one [i]could[/i] say that the gang violence of Chicago was considered a type of warfare. But having a knack with blades meant next to nothing against an enemy armed with machine guns or grenades. [i]Why,[/i] she asked herself for the umpteenth time, [i]am I here again? Logically, is there anything I can do on a battlefield that will help these people at all?[/i] Captain Stevens gave Oscar a lecture about the importance of running and training, and Maria resisted the urge to roll her eyes skyward. 

Jonathan made some remark to Oscar about looking bad in front of the women, and Oscar responded to his light teasing as all men do. Maria did not deign to give them a reply. She surveyed the rest of the group coolly, her eyes sharp and cold. The captain proposed a race, some sort of competition to get the others to run faster-and Maria ignored it. [i]Like hell I'm going to run,[/i] she thought shortly, setting off in the direction of the mountain at a leisurely pace. Walking six miles up and down a mountain was most certainly [i]not[/i] an enjoyable experience, especially in the Georgia humidity (and encroaching heat), but Maria wasn't about to [i]run[/i] that entire distance, either. 

[i]What if,[/i] she mused, [i]I simply walk up to that captain and kiss him on the lips. Oh, for the love of God, how wonderful would that be?[/i] Maria sighed inwardly. Doing that, unfortunately, would not solve any of her problems. Her father was still alive, for one, and Maria needed a way to kill him before she moved on with anything in her life. [i]Maybe I'll go to New Orleans,[/i] she thought idly. [i]Marry a rich southerner and give birth to a daughter before murdering him in his sleep and running off with his fortune. Then, I'll go back to New York. I'll have to teach my daughter our ways, of course, but that won't be a problem.[/i] Maria mentally winced. She was already twenty-nine, and the daughter had to come before she was thirty-five. The clock was ticking.

In any case, Maria knew what she wanted-money, power, revenge, and a good life for her daughter. Maria had decided long ago that her daughter wasn't going to put up with the shit that she did. Her daughter wasn't going to sell herself on the streets just to get by. Of course, Maria would tell her daughter everything she needed to know about her abilities, but damn it [i]all[/i], her daughter was going to have a good life. Adolf Hitler could go to hell.