The Saint of All Sinners

The training center was just a large rectangular room with concrete walls. The floor was covered with a soft but firm rubber padding. Numerous racks of dumbbells and other weights lined the wall. Other exercise equipment was scattered throughout the room. But in the center of the huge room, a small clearing had been made. This was where we were headed.

The room was empty which, for a military base, surprised me. The only person present besides us was a man dressed in gray shirt, dark green pants and boots. It was easy to tell he was a military man. His shaved head made it look bigger than it probably was and the permanent scowl on his face made him look extremely unfriendly. Which, as I soon founded out, was true.

I stood beside Wade with my hands behind my back; my usual stance. Stryker quietly said something to the bald man, whose eyes instinctively went to me, before walking back out the door. "You're late." The man said, never talking his eyes off of me. It was clear that he was not use to women being in his training facility.

"Its her fault." Wade said while pointing an accusing finger at me. I didn't try to hide the kick to the knee I gave in return. Something about Wade Wilson caused the child in me to act up. It was probably due to my lack of polished social skills.

The man ignored him, which told me that he had been working with the team for some time now if he had learned the appropriate way to deal with Wade's mouth. "Miss Richter-"

"Richter will do, sir." I said quickly. I hated the 'miss'. It made me feel old.

"Can I call you Gabriele?" The big, unpleasant one, Victor I think his name was, said in a sarcastic tone.

"Its Richter." I said firmly. Looking the much taller man in the face.

"Richter, my name is Sergeant Ronald Tyler. Major Stryker has informed me that you're from the CIA." He said, regaining control of the situation. "How long have you been with the Agency?"

"Almost forty-three years, sir." I said. Forty-two years and three hundred forty seven days to be exact.

"That would put of you over fifty...." Tyler said. Everyone with the exception of Wade didn't believe me.

"I'm actually sixty." I said matter-of-fact.

"And the finest looking sixty year old I've ever seen." Wade said quite loudly.

"Right. I'm going to assume you know how to handle a gun so today's session is to test the extent of your hand-to-hand combat.” The second part directed at the entire group. “No weapons, no powers. So why don't we let our CIA agent and mercenary go first." Tyler said it like he has hoping I would be incompetent without my guns and mutation.

I removed Leon and Barb from their holsters and placed them on a nearby table. Wade and I took our places on opposite sides of the square. Over the years I learned that in physical combat, it was always better not to attack first and to remain on the defensive. I didn't have to wait long for Wade to act first.

I easily dodged Wade's right hook. We danced around for a minute before either of us actually landed a blow. I mis-stepped while trying to dodge Wade's kick to my shin and fell lightly on my back. Even though I was on the ground, my new vantage point allowed me to knock the feet out from under Wade, who landed loudly on his back. I jumped on him, pinning his arms to the ground with my legs. He struggled a little, but I was much stronger than I looked. "Are you done yet?" I asked, looking done on him with a smile.

"I never thought I would tell a woman this but get off of me!" I gladly obeyed; careful not to step on any other body parts. I even offered a gloved hand, which Wade quietly accepted. "I bet if I had my katanas I would have beat you."

Wade's weapons of choice was a pair of katanas, a sword that originated in Japan and were used by samurai. The blade was about two feet long, curved, slender and single-edged. It also had a long grip to occupy two hands. They not only elongated Wade's attack range but the blade, which was a mixture of high carbon and low carbon steel, was strong enough to deflect bullets. One was dangerous, and Wade had two.

Tyler overheard Wade's excuse, "Really, Wade? Then this time, you can use your precious weapons and Richter can use her powers." I removed my gloves as Wade fetched his swords. I also removed my jacket to reveal my black skin-tight tee shirt. I normally only used my powers as a last restore, but I need all the help I could get against an armed Wade. A few minutes later, Wade, with a sword in each hand, and I were once again on opposite sides of the clearing.

Tyler, who had clearly over estimated the power and range of my ability, had put me at a grave disadvantage. Wade could attack freely, but a miscalculated attack by me could result in a removed limb. Wade attacked first again,only this time with much more confidence. He was faster with his swords and the increased speed caught me off guard.

I don't know what he was thinking, aiming at my head. Wade knew about my advanced healing but did he think I could reattach my own head? The blade barely missed my throat but not before claiming its first victim. The blade cut though the top part of my bun like butter. The bun unraveled and about six inches of blonde hair fell gracefully to the ground.

But I didn't have time to examine the carnage that was my hair because Wade was already preforming his next attack, this time at my legs. Again, I was too slow. I attempted to jump, avoiding the blade, and kick Wade in the chest but the blade caught the heel of my boot and pulled my legs out from under me. I fell to the ground and watched as Wade started to swing a katana down towards me. My instincts kicked in. I threw my hand up and caught the blade in mid-swing.

Blood, and pain, erupted from my palm. Wade continued to apply pressure, causing the blood and pain flow to increase. "Are you done yet?" Wade asked sarcastically.

"Nope." It had become second nature for me to locate any exposed skin on my enemies. In Wade's case, it was his hands and arms. Hands that were clasping the hilt of a sword just inches above my head. With my uninjured hand, I took hold of Wade's wrist. He instantly went rigid. He let go of the sword that was still embedded in my hand and dropped to one knee.

Wanting to cause the least about of pain possible, I quickly disarmed him, which was a bit difficult because he kept fighting against my grip. After removing the swords from his hands, and mine, I ended the contact. The encounter only lasted less than a minute but Wade, who was now laying on the floor, sweating and patting for air, was clearly exhausted.