Always Prepared

“I… can’t… do it… anymore,” Aria gasped. John glanced at her, unfazed. “Running in the open is great for weight loss.”

“I’ve been running for fifteen rounds around the house in a tracksuit,” she said, bending over, hands on her knees. “Thirteen,” John corrected. He held out a water bottle. “But here. Catch your breath. You did really well.”

Aria dropped onto the grass and drank deeply. When she looked up, John was standing in front of her, breathing evenly, only a light layer of sweat on his skin. His white tank top clung to his shoulders. Her gaze drifted—then stopped on his right forearm. A tattoo of a dagger wrapped in a thin laurel branch, with words etched beneath it.

“Your arm tattoo…” Aria said quietly. “Can I see it?”

John glanced down at it, then lowered himself to her level, offering his arm without a word. She traced it with her fingertip. “It’s a special forces tattoo,” John said. “One that we all shared.”

“Semper paratus,” Aria read aloud. “What does it mean?”

“It's Latin for always prepared.”

“I always wanted a tattoo, but I was too scared to get one.” She hesitated. “Do you have any others?”

“Yes,” John said after a pause. “A puzzle piece.” She blinked. “Why a puzzle piece? Is that another army thing?”

“No.” His gaze drifted somewhere far away. “My brother’s idea. We loved doing puzzles together.”

“Your brother—”

“You’ve rested enough,” John said abruptly, standing and offering her his hand. “Time for the final part of your workout.” She took it, slightly confused. “What else?”

John’s lips curved. “Let’s go to the dojo.”

*****

“I have no energy left,” Aria said, wiping sweat from her brow. “Do we really have to do this?”

“You asked me to teach you some defense moves,” John replied evenly. “I’ll keep it short and practical. This is also great because when something is going to happen out of nowhere, you can't guarantee you'll be at one hundred percent.”

She sighed but nodded.

John stepped behind her. “When someone grabs you like this from behind—” He demonstrated, looping his arms around her upper torso, firm but controlled. “Like the guy that day,” Aria said quietly. “At the club.”

“Yes,” John said. “That’s a good example.” He loosened his hold slightly so she could breathe. “When someone grabs you like this, the first thing you must do is not panic. I know it's easier said than done but panic makes people freeze, and freezing gets you in trouble.”

He adjusted his stance so she could feel it without pressure. “You can’t out-strength a man from here. Trying to break the hold with strength alone will fail. So you don’t fight the arms first—you attack balance and pain.” Aria swallowed. “Okay.”

“Step one,” John continued, calm and precise. “Drop your weight.” He guided her knees slightly bent. “Lowering your center of gravity makes it harder for them to lift or drag you.”

“Step two—attack.” He tapped the side of her thigh with two fingers. “Your heel goes straight back into his shin.” She mimicked the motion.

“Good. Now use your elbows.” He released one arm slightly to demonstrate. “Drive your elbow back into the ribs or stomach. Short, sharp movement. Don’t swing it. Stab with it.”

Aria frowned in concentration. “Like this?”

“Exactly like that.”

“And if that doesn’t work?” she asked.

John’s voice hardened just a little. “Then you go for the soft targets.” He pointed. “In street fights there are no rules, so go for the eyes, groin, throat. You create an opening—then you get away and escape.”

She was quiet for a moment. “You make it sound simple.”

“It’s not, but it’s doable.” John said. “Let’s try one for real.”

Before Aria could fully prepare herself, he moved behind her and grabbed her—harder this time, solid and real. She dropped her weight, her heel shot back, then her elbow drove into his ribs exactly where he’d shown her.

John let out a sharp breath and released her immediately, stepping back and holding his side.

“I’m sorry,” Aria said quickly, panic flashing across her face. John straightened, forcing the pain down, then smiled. “No. You did good.” He nodded once. “That was clean.”

She exhaled, relief flooding her.

“One more, then we’re done for the day.” He spoke. She groaned softly. “What now?”

“Lay down on your back.” Aria listened, lying flat on the mat.

“I’m going to teach you how to get someone off you if they take you to the ground,” he said calmly. “This is about switching positions and getting out.” He positioned himself above her, just enough for demonstration. “They may try to pin you or choke you,” he continued. “You have to act fast.”

Her heart started to pound, seeing him on top of her, but she nodded. “Okay.”

“First,” John said. “Frame.” He guided her hands and placed them against his shoulders. “You create space. Even a little is enough.”

“Then, trap.” He showed her how to hook one of his arms with both of hers. “You control one limb.”

“Finally, bridge.” He bent his knees slightly. “Drive your hips up hard. That’s where your power is.”

She followed his instructions. “Now roll,” he said. “Toward the trapped arm.” Aria moved. The motion wasn’t pretty, but it worked. John allowed the momentum, and in one clean shift, their positions switched.

Aria found herself sitting on his torso, breathless, eyes wide in disbelief. John looked up at her, one brow lifting. “Don’t stop there,” he said evenly. “Create distance.”

She didn’t react and simply breathed, her chest rising and falling as she stared down at him. “Aria?” John asked, uncertainty creeping into his voice. She reached up, brushing her hair back behind her ear, then leaned forward.

John caught her wrists gently. “Aria,” he said, his voice steady but serious. “I’m your bodyguard. Nothing more.” He met her eyes. “You have a fiancé. You're still young and have a bright future ahead of you. Don’t ruin it for a guy like me. I'm not what you think I am.” He shifted, guiding her off him and helping her sit back properly. The space between them returned, heavier than before.

John stood and walked to the corner of the dojo, picking up his tie, shirt, and coat. As he dressed himself, Aria remained seated on the floor, her gaze fixed somewhere in front of her—not looking at him.

Just then, the door slid open. “There you two are,” Rina said, stepping inside. “What are you doing?”

“We were training self-defense. Is something wrong?” John replied calmly. “No, the Aegis representative, Miss Lee, is here to see you.” Rina said.

John nodded. “Alright. I’ll go see her.”

Aria finally stood, still avoiding his eyes. “I’m going to take a shower,” she spoke quietly as she turned and left the dojo without waiting for a response.

*****

Mei was standing beside the car. “You look like a sad puppy, John.”

“Tough day at work,” he replied.

“Come stand at the back.” She opened the trunk and pulled out a USB reader connected to a laptop. “Your suit has an NFC—Near Field Communication—tag embedded in it. The storage only holds about a week’s worth of data, so I’ll need to download it on weekly basis.” She handed him a tablet. “This is Vincent Reed’s file.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Profile: Vincent Reed

Call Sign: “Angel Eyes”

Nationality: American

Age: 35

Height: 191 cm (6’3’’)

Weight: 90 kg (198 lbs)

Hair: Brown

Eyes: Light blue

Blood Type: O-

MILITARY BACKGROUND

Branch: United States Navy

Unit: Naval Special Warfare (SEAL Teams)

Specialization:

Long-range precision sniper

Overwatch and counter-sniper operations

Deployments:

Afghanistan (multiple rotations)

Classified operations in Central Asia and Middle East

SERVICE RECORD

Exceptional marksmanship scores

High mission success rate

DISCHARGE STATUS

Type: Dishonorable Discharge

Cause:

Willful killing of civilians during operations

Disregard for command authority

Psychological evaluations flagged “lack of remorse”

Official records partially redacted / classified

PSYCHOLOGICAL NOTES

Emotionally detached

Displays predatory calm under stress

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What happened to him?” John asked.

Mei exhaled lightly. “After the investigation, it was clear he violated the rules of engagement and committed a war crime. He then faced a general court-martial. There, he was dishonorably discharged, stripped of his rank, benefits revoked, and sentenced to prison.”

“Originally, he got fifteen years,” Mei went on. “But he was diagnosed with combat-induced dissociation. That reduced the sentence to eight years at the Naval Consolidated Brig in Charleston.”

“He knew an insanity plea wouldn’t fully work,” John muttered. “Bastard.”

“After serving his time, he traveled back and forth to Korea. For the past year, he’s been in this country on a work visa.” Mei continued.

John nodded slowly. “He probably met someone connected to the gang in Brig and they referred him to them.”

“There’s a problem,” Mei said. “We checked his bank accounts. There are no transfers or salary payments. Just cash deposits—made by him.”

“So he gets paid in either cash or cryptocurrency,” John said.

“What now?”

“We get to Ryo,” John looked away. “Phone, laptop, emails or something. We go through him to get Vincent, prove their involvement, and close this case as fast as possible.”

Mei hesitated. “And the sisters?”

“Rina is half, a caring sister, and half, business-minded manager. Everything she does is for Aria’s sake. As for Aria… I don’t see her being involved unless new information comes up.” Mei studied him. “Do you want to close this case quickly because of her safety… or because you want distance yourself from her?”

John didn’t hesitate. “Both.”

A notification sound came from the laptop. “Data’s downloaded,” Mei said. “Just remember—stand in the sun occasionally so the suit can recharge.” She closed the trunk and got into the car. As she pulled away, she rolled down the window.

“John,” she said gently. “You’re human. Don’t carry everything alone. If you need to talk—call me.”

John pulled a cigarette from the pack as she spoke.

“Take care,” Mei said.

He raised a hand in acknowledgment as she drove off. John lit the cigarette, exhaling slowly.

Damn it, Aria… I can’t focus on the case when you’re messing with my head. Is this part of your plan… or what?