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Kalifa vividly recalled her first days at CP9: to be accepted, she had to go through a huge number of entrance tests and to obtain a pile of various certificates to become a rookie among other elite combat troops under the notorious Rob Lucci. Oddly enough, her relation to one of the leading assassins of the organization didn’t play a significant part in the whole process: obviously, the World Government was aware of the fact, but she could be certain that her father never petitioned for her. Kalifa was appointed to the post of undercover agent by means of her own strength, stamina, knowledge and skills.
She worked with Lucci from the very beginning. Despite a small difference in age, he seemed significantly older and more mature comparing to nearly anyone she was acquainted with. Although the woman knew what she would be dealing with and what her duties would include, the man nonetheless caused a slight spark of repulsion in her, he gave her an unpleasant impression. Appearance-wise, Lucci did not look like an assassin at all but something about his manners seemed so vaguely intimidating that Kalifa had to admit – this man breathed danger. He was peril incarnate.
She learned about her father’s occupation late enough to be able to compare the two: while Laskey managed to hide his real attitude, Lucci barely disguised his bloodthirst. Unbearably handsome, atrocious and completely aloof, the man stared at people with clear disdain as if the only thing he saw was, in fact, a stink fish that didn’t even deserve his attention. In addition, his movements, swift and economic, immediately exposed his perfect body-control. He already knew the victim’s weak spots – and would hit there without a heads-up – he wasn’t particularly coy not to harness the skill.
That was the first time Kalifa faced his unbiased attitude. Normally, she was surrounded by a group of persistent suitors attempting to touch her or to make a superfluously eloquent compliment – in all honesty, even the indifferent carpenters of Water 7 let themselves whistle in her wake, but Lucci, unlike many others, barely paid any heed to her: even a vase in the headquarters got a bigger scrape of it. His calm grey eyes hardly passed across her – he absolutely did not care whether he was training a confident woman or a garishly painted kabuki actor.
Evidently, for that reason exclusively she recollected her first training. She had already been considered as an equal to those men, and she did not beg for mercy, no matter how hard it was to prepare herself for the future trials. In all honesty, Lucci made no endeavor to offer it to her; while all the erstwhile supervisors before him spilled ribald comments over the woman, this one kept counting the attendees, undisturbed. To tell the truth, the woman was curious: the scuttlebutt fueled by witnesses mentioning a peculiar amalgamation of beauty, devious mind and excessive brutality outmatching the vilest pirates didn’t scare her off but confirmed the statement that this man was unique. He appeared to control even those who didn’t serve under his command – at any rate, Lucci needed a glance to shut a talker up. There’s little wonder how he got his place in the sun – he had become one of the few whose authority remained unscathed even after the destruction of Enies Lobby.
“I will not detain anyone,” Lucci’s cold, quiet voice came. “One whimper, and rest assured… we will never meet again.”
His opening address before the training turned out extremely terse and laconic – and did contain an obscure threat. Kalifa became the first who dared step forward for a sparring round. Kaku, Kumadori, Jabra, Blueno and Fukuro preferred to stay clear and watch: albeit they got an opaque understanding of what was prepared for them, they found solace in being last.
It was the first time when Lucci beat her up.
Kalifa failed to dodge, and despite her outstanding kami-e and soru skills, she hadn’t managed to show the level Lucci would consider satisfactory. Tired of the boring and stultifying pursuit, he effortlessly broke through her tekkai and kept mauling her after his initial powerful blow. Impassive and unaffected, he kept lambasting and clawing her fiercely, not a single emotion contorted the fine features of his visage. Seeing her staggering, he used his shigan against her – and the woman, bleeding enormously, fell on the ground.
However, she did not emit a single sound.
Out of the corner of her eyes she noticed Kaku growing paler. He wasn’t exactly spineless, but he for sure came short of stamina comparing to her… What’s happened, actually? Looks like no one managed to demonstrate sufficient knowledge of such techniques as kami-e and soru, let alone tekkai: they barely maintained it for a second, and it turned out useless as Lucci breached the invisible shield easily with the attack Kalifa calmly repelled. Though, she wasn’t quite positive of it, to be honest: the last memory faded away as she focused on standing up to walk to her room.
Late at night, the woman clenched her teeth trying to tear off the bloodied rags of her clothes – they stuck to the gashes, and stripped off with the skin. Kalifa had to clean out the grazes she could reach, but as the ugly marks covered almost her entire back which was in tatters after the rampant onslaught – it was nearly impossible to swathe every wound. Moreover, the slightest touch caused searing pain in every cell of her body, and she couldn’t move wondering whether she was about to faint or could stay conscious. In fact, she did have the right to go to the hospital juxtaposed between the headquarters and the training site in order to get professional help, but it was obvious what consequences it could entail. Every assassin worked in “field” conditions, and Lucci, maybe unaware, was preparing them for the upcoming trials and impediments. Only a few succeeded, but those who were attested, became the best and later morphed into a legend within the confines of the organization.
Next morning, she stepped forward again. The man eyed her from head to toe with the similar concealed disdain and contempt she had noticed previously – and lambasted her in the same fashion though did not use his shigan for his own reasons: he either thought her to be unworthy of it, or failed to see an equal adversary in her as she knelt after several stabs. Albeit she surrendered shortly, her tekkai seemed to improve and got thicker – though moving much slower, Kalifa managed to resist for a while longer.
“There’s no point in your staying here if you cannot evade a blow.”
The gossip she’d heard were not untrue, Lucci turned out a real monster… As a human being, as a man, as a leader – but to her surprise, his brutality never baffled her: it failed to arouse any emotion inside of her as silent humiliation and battering became a part of the routine. Day by day taciturn insults reduced, Kalifa sensed that she was gradually approaching the ideal she had conjured in her head but the imperturbable pale face remained aloof as ever. In Lucci’s eyes she still remained a pathetic loser, even though she had made a long way to establish herself as one of the few female agents of CP9.
The man had eliminated almost all emotions except for perverse delight at the sight of the power he wielded: spoiled by his own abilities and skills, the intimidating Rob Lucci relished the consternation he inculcated in others, and when he saw her naked back painted in crimson red stripes, he simply grinned under his breath. His fingers lingered across the scarcely healed wounds and pressed on the freshest cut while indifferently muttering that she got off cheaply. He could’ve killed her during that training by aiming an inch higher.
He offered her a chance to be the best.
He improved her skills and knowledge through lambasting her so brutally and ingeniously as he did to no one. She learnt to avoid the most devious attacks; she escaped and hid behind him; she grew stronger: she was no longer Laskey the assassin’s daughter – she got her own name, she was the Kalifa everybody feared.
What about the cost?.. Thanks to an ointment, all the scars got healed pretty well. Actually, no one else needed it just as much: Jabra wiped blood off under his nose and spitted off chunks directly into the sink; Kumadori howled as the most lugubrious and woeful yurei complaining that “his hair were pulled with too much force”… Kaku may be the only to catch his breath after trainings, and Kalifa once took notice of his trembling fingers hovering over a fresh bite on his shoulder. But she was much better. She stood out.
She couldn’t be compared to Rob Lucci but at least she impelled him to respect her – if he ever respected anyone. After the humiliating defeat of CP9 he intended to do her in, just as any top-notch undercover agent would do, but wasn’t it the very same desire she used to read in those lackluster grey eyes all along? Wasn’t it exactly the thought that crossed his mind – didn’t he want to reciprocate in response to his personal setbacks and those of his own department?.. He definitely had a reason to track her down, and he assigned Kaku to be his lapdog in accordance with his ulterior motives. Rob Lucci always had plans – she comprehended it immediately.
The woman approached the mirror and stared into the reflection of the violet eyes. They darkened around the pupil but eventually grew lighter dispersing in the miscellaneous, minuscule streaks. The woman took her red lipstick and slightly tapped it on the lips.
Kalifa was no longer afraid. She had become the best.
And she will keep going.