Snippet #2232842

Benedict Lestrade yawned as he walked down the small hallway in the training complex of the Social Welfare Agency. If he could have, he would have found some nice little place to read his book. But no, even this early Alice would be training. Training training training… He wondered if it ever got boring for the kid. Even if she was a cyborg trained to be an anti-terrorist unit, she still had to have fun sometimes, didn’t she?

Or maybe not. He had been with her for about a year already and he still had yet to see her actually having “fun” in a normal sense. He heaved a sigh. “Normal” might not be quite the right word for it, but he didn’t consider having fun shooting people to be a normal type of fun.

Stopping in front of the training room that he had been told that she’d been in, he waited for a moment, listening. He had learned his lesson a few months ago when he had heard a large crash and rushed in, only to learn what it felt like to take a flying practice dummy to the face. He then resolved to make sure that she wasn’t practicing throws before he walked in. It still never hurt to be careful, though, no matter what she was doing.

The door had different plans, though. When he put his hand on the knob and turned it, he found that he could not, however hard he tried, push it any farther. He tried again. No give. Maybe something was jammed under the door…? He stepped back and slammed into it with his foot. With a loud crack, the door opened a bit.

“Alice, you okay in there?” he asked, wedging his foot between the door, opening it a bit more and squeezing through. It was a scene of carnage. The door had been blocked by the severed arm of a practice dummy that had wedged itself under it like a door block. Pieces, limbs and lacerated dummies littered the floor. Benedict whistled as he saw Alice among the wreckage setting up yet another dummy. “Feeling angry or something, kid?”