More than a month had passed since the battle in Mission City. The Decepticons had been dropped to the bottom of the ocean and the Autobots along with Lennox's team- had seen Jazz off. Now she was currently returning to life where every day she wasn't in immediate danger.

Of course, the woman still slept with both of her pistols tucked into between her twin bed and her bedside table. Currently, she was seated at her small dining room table, cleaning out both of the custom guns.

Mitch quirked an eyebrow when someone knocked on the door.

She didn't get visitors often, as most of the neighbors -minus Mrs. Santos- kept to themselves. Mitch didn't live in a very nice part of the city and her apartment building housed druggies, alchoholics, a few whores, an old woman, and she was pretty sure that there was a goth guy living the next floor down.

The raven-haired woman stood from her chair and tucked her cleaning rag into the backs of her tan cargo pants before answering the door.

A man in a pristine black suit stood outside her door, his slacks, blazer, shirt, and tie all completely without a wrinkle. He clutched a polished black brief case with silver clasps, and a pair of black sunglasses sat on his face. His dark brown hair was cut neatly.

"Lieutenant King, my name Nathaniel Ayers." The man gave a quick nod, his face black. He had some sort of accent, but Mitch couldn't quite place it. "I from the Ubiytsa Departamenta. May I come in for brief chat?"

Mitch stepped aside and closed the door behind him as he took a seat at her cluttered table. The raven returned to cleaning and reassembling her gun. The apartment was silent until the last piece was in place.

"Those custom-made?" Nathaniel asked, nodding to the gleaming silver.

"Yes." Mitch nodded, shoving the two pistols into the waistband of her cargo pants, before leaning forward. "Now why don't we have this chat of yours?"

"Very vell. " The man opened his brief case and handed her a file, which Mitch took to browsing as he spoke. "Your uncle, Aaron King, has lived in Russia for many years. He's a successful man, with mnogo of training. Martial arts and military both, yes? He has become very rich vith his business in training skilled soldiers and spies for Russia for many years. Recently, in an accident involving highly explosive weapons, he lost three of his top trained spies and four of his soldiers. He has sent me from Russia, to you."

Placing the file down, which contained the information on her Uncle Aaron's business and how well it was doing, Mitch gave the man a suspicious look.

"And?" She hummed, threading her fingers together and leaning on them.

"Gospodin King has request me to recruit you into training at his faculty in Northern Russia."

"I can't-" Mitch began, grey eyes narrowed.

"Gospodin King has already contacted your military commanders, requesting your transfer to his faculty. You're income salary will be increased, and all is put into order for you to move. You vill simply need to sign at the bottom of the last paper in the file."

He handed her a pen.

"I'm not going to sign anything, until I know what I'm getting into or I get a direct order from-" The raven growled as the man's phone rang, and he handed it to her.

"It is for you." He smirked, leaning back in his chair.

"Hello?" Mitch listened to the voice on the other end, nodding on in a while, before she responded. "I understand, sir. I'll start packing now."

Nathaniel held out his hand for his phone, and Mitch grumbled as she snatched a pen from his hand as he handed it to her. Her name was sprawled quickly onto the thin line at the bottom and she pushed the entire file back.

"I vill be back in three hours to pick you up for the plane to Russia. Pleasure doing business with you, Lieutenant."

"Like-wise." Mitch sighed, glaring daggers at his back when he shut the door.

True to his word, Nathaniel was back at her door in exactly three hours. Mitch didn't actually have a lot of clothing, mostly comfortable clothing and uniforms, so two duffel bags sat at her feet and her pistols were placed in a small carry on with food and an empty bottle of water.

"Let's get going." He smirked, hefting one bag onto his shoulder and leaving her to carry the other. As they climbed the stairs down to the third floor, the goth guy appeared. His face was black, plastered in white make-up and he held a paint brush dripping with red paint in his hand.

"Afternoon, RubyAshe." She waved as they passed. RubyAshe nodded quietly and returned to painting on the door. It opened with a screech seconds later and the goth boy was chased away from the door by a young woman wearing a pair of sweat pants.

"The power of God-" The girl shrieked as Nathaniel and Mitch descended. RubyAshe flashed a smirk in the soldier's direction before vanishing into his own apartment.

"That happen often?" Nathaniel asked, curiosity coloring his tone.

"Yup. Almost everyday for something or another. Happens when the Satanistic Goth lives across from the always high hardcore God-worshipper." The raven shrugged. "Mrs. Santos thinks they have a thing for each other, but she's a nosy old woman."

"I see." He nodded, opening the door for her into pouring rain. An expensive looking car sat in front of the building and one of the bums down the street was eying it with interest. The guy would have taken it too, but there was a man sitting in the driver's seat. The truck popped open and the two standing in the rain were swift in stashing the two duffel bags into the back, as well as climbing into the back.

The ride was silent, save for the rain, engine and the soft violin playing through the speakers. The airport came into view and the man in the front flashed a card through a terminal, before being ushered through to the runway. A small private jet sat on the runway, the door open and a set of stairs set against it.

"The jet is ready to go, Major Ayers." The driver informed, passing the smug looking man a black umbrella. "A pleasure driving you, Lieutenant King."

"Thanks." Mitch gave the man a confused look, ran to grab her bags and rushed onto the plane just seconds after Nathaniel.

"So, a Major, huh?" Mitch leaned on her knees as Nathaniel sipped a glass of champagne.

"A decorative title, I assure you." He smirked, leaning back into his chair.

"Great. What the heck does my uncle do exactly?" Mitch grumbled, leaning back into her chair.

"You'll find out when we get there." Nathaniel grinned, then jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "There's a couch over there. I suggest you get some sleep."

"Right." Mitch rolled her eyes, rising and striding to the couch. Nathaniel merely pulled a book from the compartment beside him.

Aaron King's faculty was located in Northern Russia, in a small back-water town. When the jeep Nathaniel had driven them there in stopped in front of a polished beige mansion, Mitch wasn't exactly sure what to expect.

"Out. One of the servents will bring your stuff to your room. Aaron is waiting with a light dinner. Romanov will show you in."

Romanov was a portly man wearing a tailor black suit in the doorway, and he led her to what could only be a dining room. Aaron was waiting.

He was a tall man, with high cheekbones, a straight nose and a large figure covered in muscles. His hair was dark grey and brown, his eyes grey and his mouth was set into a welcoming line. Mitch had never, ever, known her uncle to smile.

Seated at the table with him were seven other people, all from different places; a dark-skinned man with an African accent, a Japanese man, an Italian woman was speaking with another woman with an Australian accent, an Indian man was tapping his fingers on the table, a Brazilian man was speaking with another Brazilian woman at near the end of the table.

All of them immediately silenced when Aaron stood. "Dobro pozhalovat' v moy dom."

"I don't speak Russian." Mitch deadpanned, dropping into the last vacant seat.

"Welcome to my home, plemyannitsa." Aaron rolled his eyes and seated himself. "I am glad you've arrived safely. There wasn't too much hassle?"

"I was ordered here by my superiors." She growled, glaring at her uncle.

"Yes, well. I wanted you here. And what I want, I get. By any means necessary." Aaraon rumbled as men appeared with food. "Everyone dig in."

Aaron watched as everyone ate silently, before he spoke up. "As you know, through your...brief explanation, I've lost a large portion of my highly trained soldiers and spies. To receive my yearly funding from various places around the world, I have to have trained a certain number of people, and with this group...dead...I won't meet this quota. Therefor, with a bit of research into various military files, I've selected the eight of you to replace them. You have three months to train to their standard and you start tomorrow."

"Why us?" The African man asked, placing his fork down.

"All of you, according to your files, have decent ranks in your military or dojo. And after inquiring to your trainers, I've learned that all of you are fast learners. That's the most important thing. Eat quickly; you have an early rise tomorrow." Aaron left the room as several men strode in. Mitch was one of the first to finish, along with the African man. They stood, shared a look and a man stepped forward.

"This way." He demanded, gesturing for them to follow. The African glanced down at her from his towering six foot five over her five foot nine.

"What is your name?" The African man asked, clearly having a little difficulty with his English.

"Lieutenant Mitch King." She offered her hand, and he shook. "You?"

"I am Tendaji Afolayan." He flashed his white teeth in a smile. "I hope we will become friends? You seem like an interesting person."

Mitch laughed. "Thanks."

"I must ask though," The man scratched the back of his closely shaved head. "Are you related to Bwana King?"

"Yeah. He's my uncle. What language do you speak?"

"I speak Swahili." The man chuckled as their guide stopped.

"These are where you'll sleep." The guy pointed to the two doors at the end of the hall, facing one another. "Lieutenant King is on the right, and Maulana Afolayan on the left."

"Asante." Tendaji smiled, vanishing into his room. Mitch gave their guide a weird look before vanishing into her own room.

Her room was painted in a cream color, with chocolate drapes and accents in the room. Any metal was painted gold, and her khaki colored duffel bags sat at the end of the bed.

After showering, Mitch pulled on a pair of boxers and a tank top before sliding under the thick quilt.

The first week in Russia was spent going over the group's already known skills and learning slowly about each other. Tendaji and Mitch became quick friends.

By the time the first month ended, the eight adults were prone to arguing, hitting each other, but were much more trained then they thought they would be, and more educated as Aaron had them all learn one another's languages.

Half-way through the second month, the Italian woman, Lelia Tanzi, whom they had nicknamed, Lia, was doing drills with the fighter jet pilots, and the Brazilian woman, Fatima D'Cruz, was learning as fast as she could about how to actually fly a plane. Before she came to Russia, she was a jet mechanic and a capoeira instructor.

The rest of them were being put into high-level simulations and team building exercises.

All of them were stuck in one right now -including the two pilots, with the Indian guy as Captain, the Australian as SIC. It wasn't going well, the Brazilian male, Victor D'Cruz, was 'dead' and their enemy, another team with more training then them.

"Fatima, take Shou and Michelle around the corner for-" Mitch bristled, and she snapped.

Her normally quick fuse had been on it's last shreds these past few days, coupled with her lack of sleep due to the others fighting; Mitch had been a ticking time bomb for the past few days.

"Enough. First of all, my name is Mitch or King. Call me anything else and I will shoot you in the foot. Don't think I won't." She growled, voice quiet to keep the other team from hearing. "I am taking charge or we are going to fail again."

"You can't do that!" The man hissed, glaring.

"Watch me, Dipak." Mitch turned and assessed the situation. "Ten, up the nearest building. I want you maintaining visual the best you can, while staying under cover. See if you can spot Sostav Reka from up there. Shou, I want you to cover Bridgette; keep our medic alive. Dipak, Shou and Lelia; keep your eyes out for the enemy. They're more experienced then we are, know the course better, and they have an Eye in the Sky. Let's move out."

"Yes, ma'am!" The group saluted, and moved into action.

Above the city course, in the control room, Aaron lifted an eyebrow and glanced at Nathaniel, who was wearing a headset and not just a pair of headphones like he was. The two men in the control room were watching the entire thing, and connected the frequency of one of the teams. Nathaniel was the Eye in the Sky for Sostay Reka, and Aaron was listening in on Sostay Zelenyy.

"Boys, Zelenyy is under new orders, and Chocolate has split from the group. Looks like Crown has taken leadership." Nathaniel leaned forward, listening to the reply, before nodding. "Rodger that."

Mitch ducked beneath a window as the two remaining members of Reka appeared, guns held loosely in their hands as they meandered down the street. Mitch growled, checking her remaining clips, only to find she had none, and only had three painballs left. Tendaji, who had been picking off the memebers from above, was too far away to do anything, Bridgette was 'fixing up' Dipak and Lelia. Fatima had been hit; both she and her twin were 'dead'.

So that left the odds two-against-one, and they were more experience than she was. The odds were not in her favor.

The two remaining young men of Reka were obviously related as they had they same facial shape. However, the one on the left was slightly shorter than his brother.

He also had the most unusual eyes Mitch had ever seen. She was pretty sure they were contacts, except she knew that contacts in training was a really bad idea. His eyes were gold, and his hair was the wildest shade of orange. He had an old fashioned pilot's cap on his head, with the goggles seated on the top. He was dressed in the standard grey uniform they'd all been given, but a orange band sat around his arm, and a cream scarf was wrapped around his neck.

His brother's eyes were hidden behind a pair of modern blue aviators. His uniform was also standard, with a blue scarf and a yellow scarf. His hair was blue, and looked absolutely windblown.

Both of them held guns as they turned their backs. Mitch narrowed her eyes, clicked the safety off her gun as quietly as she could, and took aim.

The guy with blue hair went down with the powerful shot to the back.

"Doing the dying I am, brother!" Blue cried dramatically.

"Brother!" Orange wailed, and then Blue 'died'. "Revenge I shall take on your death!"

Mitch crawled carefully away from her shooting point, and as Orange turned, she scrambled quickly into the next building, and climbed a flight to stairs. He was tucked against the wall of the building she had been in, slightly behind a dumpster, and she had two shots left.

Mitch leveled the gun, aimed, and took a calming breath. Orange looked around, confusion written on his face.

Mitch pulled the trigger.

Bright red paint splattered against the wall as the young man ducked. His head popped up again and he cocked his own gun, put Mitch fired a shot that hit the center of his protective vest.

"Join you in death I will, brother."

Mitch stayed crouched behind the wall, and the Bluetooth-like device in her ear crackled. "Well done, Zelenyy. You pass...Just barely. Sostay Reka, report to Team Training. They're expecting you."

Mitch made her way over to the brothers, and helped Orange up.

"Leading you are good at." He grinned, dusting himself off and helping up his brother. "Pozhar Struya I am. Zefir is mine brother!"

"Mitch King." She offered her hand and found both being shaken quite vigorously by the brothers.

"Mitch is being boy name, no?" Zefir questioned, all the while smiling. His eyes were very very blue behind his glasses. "Short for something your name must be?"

"Michelle." Mitch grumbled and the brothers smiled wider, if at all possible.

"Struya brothers," Nathaniel's voice crackled on their Bluetooth devices. "To Team Training."

"Okey-ing the dokey-ing!" The brothers snapped to attention. "Seeing you later we be, Mitch!"

"Uh...bye?"

It was nearing the end of the second month, while Mitch and her team were relaxing in the parlor of the mansion, that one of the uniformed servants appeared in the doorway, a silver tray held in his hand. In the center of the silver platter were two cream colored envelopes, with bold black writing on the front.

He strode purposefully over to Mitch, who was sprawled out on a large black leather chair. He offered the tray and the woman plucked both envelopes off, giving the man a strange look as he left.

When he left, she opened the letter with her name on the front, reading it swiftly with an eyebrow raised. The second letter she actually read and it took her several minutes, as there were three pages.

"Listen up!" Every person in the room snapped their eyes to her. "You have the rest of the night to pack. We're being shipped out on a trial mission at oh-five-hundred hours."

The raven turned on her heel and left the room, climbing the stairs swiftly. When she entered her room, a new uniform was folded carefully on top of her bed sheets, the sewn on insignia displayed to the roof.

"Captain King. I like it."

"Your mission," Aaron steepled his fingers, gazing at the adults gathered around his dining room table. "Is to secure-"

"Being late we are!" Zefir and Pozhar burst into the room and took the seats flanking Mitch. "Sorry we be!"

"As I was saying." Aaron King coughed, narrowing his eyes at the brothers. "Your mission is to secure Sector Foxtrot from these men."

He gestured to the manila folders that sat in front of each soldier. Inside were twenty pictures of somewhat normal looking men, all given code-names.

"They've integrated themselves into the community in the middle of Foxtrot, and are planning some kind of large-scale attack. You have two weeks to finish the mission. Their leader, code name Rover Seven, is some where in the community, and you are to apprehend. Bring him back alive. This is a training mission, and your weapons will be replaced with paintball guns, with red paint. Zefir, Pozhar; you are flying your jets. D'Cruz and Tanzi, you'll be on foot for this mission. Dire consiquences will be taken should you all fail."

Aaron paused, and stood. "Captain King will be in charge of this mission. Congratulations on your promotion, plemyannitsa." Mitch nodded, and stood.

"Our transport to the airport is waiting outside. Move out. Struya, with me." The raven gestured to the pilots. They came scurrying over, large smiles on their faces. "When did you get put in this unit?"

"Transfer we requested." Pozhar flashed two thumbs up, climbing into the black SUV with her and his brother. The driver, another suited man, pulled out of the mansion's driveway once it was full.

Mitch rubbed her temples, the book in her lap forgotten with the beginning of her headache. The plane from Russia to London had gone without a hitch, but their flight from London to Santiago, Chile, had a family of five. The youngest was screaming at the top of his lungs, the toddler wouldn't stop talking and the tween and teen were arguing. The mother, an exhausted looking woman, was fast asleep.

This family was the cause of Mitch's headache, and her temper was growing thin.

Another hour...and she'd had enough. The captain jerked to her feet, spun on her heel and directed a death-glare at the teenager, who's dark brown eyes went wide and he fell silent.

"If you would, civilian," She growled out, puffing out her chest. Everyone on the plane was silent now, watching as the woman in the army uniform dealt with the cause of annoyance on the plane. "Wake your mother, and behave yourself."

"You can't do jack." The tween snorted. He was dangling by his shirt in seconds, and the teen did nothing to stop it. The toddler even fell silent.

"Young man," Mitch sneered. "I am a Special Ops captain. Do you think I earned this rank by smiling and batting my eyelashes at my superiors? No. You will sit in your chair for the rest of the flight, and not say a word. And you,"

The teen went ram-rod straight, face draining of color. "Wake your mother to shut up that baby."

He nodded, and shook his mother rather roughly. "Ma, wake up."

"You!" She hissed. "I told you not to wake me up unless-"

"Ma'am, your screaming baby is disturbing me, my team, and the rest of this plane. I'd appreciate it if you shut him up."

"Yes, sir! Ma'am! Uh..."

"Thank you."

The warmth of the sun pressed against Mitch's back as she crouched on the top of one of the highest buildings, Tendaji at her side. The Struya brothers were back at their ground base, located on one of the nearby mountains. The team had jeeps to carry their supplies from the town about thirty miles away, and to bring them down the mountain.

Already, Mitch's team had taken care of twelve of the enemy, and they'd been shipped somewhere. Rover Seven and his top seven men were still hidden in the ruins of the city.

"Crown, this is Demon. We have a visual on Flash Path and Hazard Razor."

"Copy that, Demon. Who are you with?"

"I'm with Spider." Mitch nodded,before responding.

"Think you can get 'em?"

"Not without Hawk."

"Do not engage, Demon. Keep an eye on them. Are they moving?"

"Yes, ma'am. They're headed in your direction. They should round a corner and you should be able to see them...now."

A bulky man in black fatigues and another leaner man with a gun strapped to his back appeared. "We have them in visual. Hawk,"

Tendaji was already in position, finger pressed against the trigger as he followed the two men in his sights. About three seconds later, Flash Path and Hazard Razor lay 'dead' on the ground.

"Crown, you've got four headed your way. Do you want back-up?" Dipak asked.

"Thanks for the heads up. Cross and Sparky, head to our location stat."

"Yes, ma'am!" The Brazilian twins confirmed, and were sighted in seconds.

"Hawk, stay here. Pick off the targets from above; I'm going to help Cross and Sparky down below." Tendaji nodded as Mitch hurried down the stairs.

A group of on-alert men appeared, scanning the area around them for the team that was picking them off.

"Clear." The leader snapped, and red paint splattered against the jackets as the three soldiers-in-hiding unleashed their guns. "Never mind."

Once the entire group was 'dead', Victor, Fatima and Mitch placed them with the other two.

"Crown, they've holed up in the temple." Tendaji reported.

"Back to the jeeps. We'll go over strategy back at base."

"Yes, ma'am!"

The night was dark; crickets chirping, and the moon a crescent in the sky. A group dressed in black appeared around the corner of the ruins, crouched low to the ground. Two jets suddenly roared overhead, and the door to the temple the black-clothed group snapped open. The final goon appeared, rushing out and closing the door behind him, a paintball gun in his hand.

The door swung shut behind him, and the man, code-name Black Iron, stalked away from cover. The leader of the stealthy group, pointed to the shortest man in the group and the three other women, who split from the group and followed Black Iron from a safe distance. The remaining four slid closer to the building. The three men boosted the leader to the roof, and she let down a rope, pressing a finger to her lips.

She flashed white teeth once they were all on the roof, and made her way to an opening near the far end. The temple was set into the cliff face, and the roof had several holes in it. A rope tied around a boulder let the four down into the temple, where the made sure the room they landed in was clear.

The leader pointed to the door, checked the hallway, and hurried to the next room.

A man was seated in the new room, sipping a glass of soda with ice. The leader gestured for them to proceed.

The man went still as the barrel of a gun was pressed to the back of his neck and his temple.

"Surrender now, and you won't get hurt." The fairer skinned of the men growled. The man lifted his hand, and turned, firing a custom paintball gun into the stomach of the darker skinned taller man.

"Hawk!" The man bellowed in concern. The woman moved forward towards the laughing man, slapping the gun from his hands. Rover Seven tackled her to the ground, and the two exchanged blows until the woman got the upper hand by kneeing him in the stomach. She slapped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists and then delivered a heavy punch to his stomach again.

She stood from Rover Seven's limp body, pulling a small phone with one call on it from her pocket. It rang several times, before the person on the other end picked up.

"Sir, we have captured Rover Seven. Further orders?" She was quiet. "Yes, sir. We'll be on our way immed-"

"Not...so fast." Seven grunted, pulling a small device from his pocket and pressing the button.

"Take cover!" The woman yelled, diving behind the couch in the room. Paint splattered throughout the room, and when she emerged, her team-mates and captive were all 'dead', covered in bright yellow.

"Captain King!" The man on the other end of the phone yelled. "What is going on!?"

"Sir, both of my men are down, and Seven set off a paint bomb. All three are dead." She was silent again, and then stood, leaving the body behind, and pulling out her radio. "Orange and Blue."

"Yes, Boss-lady!? Is the badness man trouble being?"

"Bring jeeps to the temple."

Aaron faced the group of twenty men and Mitch's group, which sat a small distance away. "Well done all of you. That was your graduation test. All of you have passed, and those watching have given me the funds to continue. Captain King and the Struya brothers will join me in the other room in a moment."

He continued speaking for several moments, before he gestured for the three to follow him.

"The three of you have been hired as body guards, temporarily, for a teenage boy in South Gate, California. It's a bit different than a normal mission, I know. But you three seem to work for the job. Also, kid is not allowed to know you're there guarding him."

The twins cast unreadable looks at each other, but saluted the same time Mitch did.

"You're being shipped out tomorrow, oh-eighteen-hundred hours."

Sukhoi Su-33 for Jet Twins alt-modes.

Just so you're not confused.

Michelle's mother is half-Spanish, half-British and her father is half-Russian through his mother.

So, Mitch is half-British, a quarter-Spanish and a quarter-Russian.

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Russian Spoken in this chapter:

mnogo: lots

Gospodin: mister

Dobro pozhalovat' v moy dom: Welcome to my home.

plemyannitsa: niece

Sostav Reka: Squad Stream

Sostay Zelenyy: Squad Green

Struya: Jet

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Swahili:

Bwana: Mister

Maulana: Master

Asante: Thank you.