Why were they doing this to her? Why were they treating her like she was some animal or some prisoner of war? It didn’t make sense to her. She was supposed to be trained, not tortured. What part of the training was this? And what was she supposed to learn from being isolated, blinded, alone, and tortured with ice-cold water repeatedly thrown on her? She thought about her friends and wondered if they were going through the same harsh treatment as she was.
On day four, she felt paralyzed to the cold, hard ground. Her stomach growling was the only thing she could hear. It was roaring like a chainsaw going off. It felt like madness wanted to inhabit her mind. She heard the door open, followed by voices, people near her and suddenly the white hood and blindfold were snatched off her head, and her clouded vision came back slowly. Cristal could barely move. She looked up and saw a woman standing over her. She was dressed nicely, clad in Fendi, and had long, auburn hair, blue eyes, and olive skin—she was extremely beautiful.
“You’re strong. I like that,” the woman spoke in a thick, foreign accent.
Cristal could barely speak.
The woman gazed at her, her look impassive. Cristal had lost track of time and reality. She wanted to eat. She needed a shower. She needed a change of clothes. She was dirty, stinking, and almost hallucinating.
“My friends, where are they?” Cristal asked.
The woman gawked at Cristal with her unsettling eyes and said, “Four days in the program, and already ten are gone. You should be proud of yourself. You’ve no need to worry about friends here. Your life has changed. Your friends have changed. And you, you will no longer be the same. Understand?”
Cristal nodded.
“This is a test of endurance, psychology, and pain. Isolation is a form of punishment to many, but it can become a comfort to the right sort of mind. And you can have that right mind, Cristal; a strong mind,” the woman said to her evenly.
Cristal was listening.
This woman, in her stylish heels and name-brand attire, radiated authority and strength in her demeanor. She also looked like she could become a cold-hearted bitch in a heartbeat. Her eyes were icy and tone chilling. Was she a killer or just an employee working for the Commission?
“Take her into the next room and have her cleaned up,” the woman instructed the two men in the room with her.
They nodded. They went to help Cristal off the ground; she pushed them away, refusing their help. “I can get up by myself,” she spat.
The woman smiled.
Cristal stood up and could barely move, but she willed herself forward and wondered what they had planned for her next. Her legs felt like jelly and she felt useless, but her spirit was far from broken.
Cristal washed herself thoroughly in the spacious bathroom. She was among others that had made it through the grueling first four days—mostly men, everyone hungry, dirty, and feeling boggled. It was her and another woman among the naked males showering in the washroom—there were big dicks and small dicks, fat dicks and skinny dicks, and she wasn’t the least turned on. Sex was so far from her mind, it almost seemed unfamiliar to her. She looked around for her friends, but she didn’t see them.
After showering and cleaning, the group had a hearty breakfast. The food going down her throat felt so nourishing and tasty, she had the urge to eat the plate, too. Afterwards, it was back to training.
Day Twelve
Cristal sat through class after class, day after day like it was high school again. Math, science, history, English, plus she had to learn two languages within a two-month period—German and Spanish. What did they think she was, a genius? The instructors were hard and brutal on their students. There were days where she went with less than four hours of sleep and no meals. It was like military boot camp: up before the sun, a three-mile run, an hour of calisthenics afterwards, and then maybe breakfast. In training, they were teaching the recruits the fundamentals first before they went on to anything advanced—endurance, survival, strength, stamina, and everything from books to explosives were covered the first weeks of training.
Day twelve was tedious and painstaking. When she’d been in high school, it wasn’t this demanding. It also was a lot to take in: books to read, films to watch, and things to learn and study. Cristal felt like she was in a shadowy government agency somewhere unknown. It no longer felt like she had a choice; performance was expected of her.
On the twentieth day, the remaining recruits learned about computers—software, hardware, and viruses. They were expected to pass numerous psychometric, psychoanalytical, aptitude, and polygraph tests. And then the instructors taught the candidates the skills of espionage, covert operation protocols, and intelligence-gathering techniques. The candidates were trained in surveillance exercises.
On the thirtieth day, the candidates underwent training which involved basic combat training, infantry advanced individual training, and specialized infantry training. They did weapon training, learning to differentiate different gun calibers from the .9mm to assault rifles and grenades.
The Commission’s agenda was to take the ghetto, the menace to society, and the unknown, and transform them from degenerate, subpar human beings into trained killers. And Cristal was expected to become a femme fatale—which meant fatal woman in French.
Thirteen
Sharon had Pike’s kitchen smelling delicious with her home cooking. She had a chocolate cake baking in the oven and spare ribs, mashed potatoes, string beans, and yams cooking. It was a welcoming smell for Pike as he stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a white towel. Sharon fixed her eyes on Pike’s glistening body and smiled. He was strong eye candy from head to toe. They hadn’t had sex yet, but every day she spent with Pike it became harder for her to resist the temptation. She continued to kill the man with her kindness; cleaning, cooking, ironing his clothes, and being his drug mule.
Since her homegirls were away, Sharon started spending more time over at Pike’s place. It felt lonely in Brooklyn without her crew. Word on the streets was that Mesha was out for blood, holding a bitter grudge against Sharon and her crew. So she had to watch her back and keep a low profile, knowing Mesha didn’t make idle threats.
Sharon checked her cake baking in the oven. It was coming out perfectly. She smiled. She couldn’t wait until Pike tasted her infamous chocolate dessert. Her friends loved her cooking, and when it came to baking, there was not a soul who could resist it—every bit of it was finger-licking good.
“Who taught you how to cook like this?” Pike walked into the kitchen clad in only a towel. The aroma made his mouth water.
“My grandmother,” Sharon responded. “With my parents fucked up on drugs and shit, I spent a lot of time over at her place, and she loved to cook. She loved the kitchen. She taught me all of her recipes. And I enjoyed every bit of time I had with her until she died two years ago,” Sharon said, looking nostalgic for a moment.
Pike walked over to the stove and sampled some of her cooking, popped one piece of it into his mouth and he got hard. “Damn, this shit is good,” he praised her heavily. “You can definitely burn, Sharon. I give you that.”
Sharon beamed.
Her grandmother had always told her that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. And she felt that her grandmother wasn’t lying about that old folk tale.
“So, when can I eat?” Pike asked.
“When I’m done,” Sharon said.
“How soon is that?”
“Soon.”
He nodded.
Pike exited the kitchen and opened his closet in the living room. He pulled out a Nike shoebox and placed it on the table. Inside were several ounces of marijuana and two ounces of cocaine, along with some cash in the thousands. Sharon saw the contents and minded her business. She continued to busy herself in his kitchen while Pike went through his product. He counted his cash, and then looked Sharon’s way and said, “Yo, you did ya
thang the other day making them deliveries for me. I thank you for that. I owe you.”
“I always got your back, Pike,” Sharon returned.
“I see that.”
She smiled at him.
“Yo, where’s ya crew at? I haven’t seen them around the way lately. They just, like, up and disappeared. I know they ain’t hiding out from Mesha,” said Pike.
Sharon had no real idea where her friends had gone off to.
“Nah, believe me, ain’t nobody scared of that bitch. But they left town for a minute,” she informed him.
“Left town? To where?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Cristal was talking something about some job they were looking into, and they went chasing after it.”
“Job? What them bitches know but shoplifting and hustling . . . and Brooklyn or Harlem?”
“It was something E.P. supposedly was hooking them up with,” she mentioned.
The mention of E.P.’s name made Pike go quiet.
Sharon went on to say, “I don’t trust it, and for some reason, I don’t trust him.” Even though she never met the man, she felt she had the good sense to understand when something seemed too good to be true, then it was.
“Did Cristal mention what kind of job it was?” Pike asked.
“Nah, she kept it a secret. And that was another thing that bothered me. She want us to go train for something and we don’t have a clue what it’s about? You cool with E.P., Pike. What is it that he does?”
Pike shrugged. “I don’t even know.”
“Anyway, just because the man is rich doesn’t mean he is to be trusted,” Sharon stated.
“You’re a wise and smart girl,” said Pike with admiration in his voice.
“My grandmother didn’t raise me to be anyone’s fool. Yes, I might humble myself and be kind to people, but I don’t want anyone to play me for some fool and take advantage of me all the time,” she proclaimed.
Pike chose to keep quiet about her last statement.
“But wherever they’re at, I just pray and hope that they’re safe and watchin’ each other’s back,” Sharon added.
“They’re good,” Pike assured her.
“I just hope so.”
“Y’all really close, I see that.”
“We are . . . like sisters. You and Rich aren’t close like that?”
“We cool, but I mean, it’s mostly business wit’ us, and most times he ain’t around. He’s always out of town doin’ his thing, and I don’t knock a nigga for that. He do him, and I do me,” Pike said to her.
“I like Rich. He’s cool. He’s funny.”
“Oh, and I don’t make you laugh?” Pike asked, looking somewhat offended.
“You do. But Rich, he’s just silly and stupid funny. I like to laugh though, Pike. When I stayed with my grandmother, we always laughed and had fun together. Even when times got hard, my grandmother was always laughing, cracking jokes, and making our lives interesting.”
“You miss your grandmother a lot.”
“I do.”
“I never knew my grandmother. Barely knew my moms either. The only person I loved and cared about was my baby sister. She used to come to all of my games and cheer me on. She was always full of life and laughter,” Pike said.
Sharon stopped cooking for a moment and went to be next to him. When he started talking about his baby sister, he would always drift into a different place. She sat on the floor next to Pike and placed her arms around him.
“I wanted to give up on basketball after she was killed, but I knew she wouldn’t have wanted that,” said Pike.
“You did the right thing. She’s in a better place now, Pike,” Sharon said to him.
For a moment, it looked like Pike was ready to tear up thinking about his baby sister. But he took a deep breath and snapped out of his daze. Sharon held him in her arms; it was a comfortable and supportive feeling. The two talked for a while, sharing their past and their dreams with each other.
“I always wanted my own family,” Sharon said to him. “I want a nice house. I want kids. I want a husband. I want love.”
“I wanted the NBA,” Pike said. “I wanted the fame, the fortune, the limelight, the adoration.”
“And bitches, right?” Sharon interrupted jokingly.
Pike laughed. “Yeah, the bitches too.”
“Y’all men are something else.”
“And y’all women can be a handful,” he returned.
They continued talking, smiling, and laughing. The moment was so welcoming to Sharon, she just wanted to remain on the floor talking to Pike until the end of time. This was where her life was meant to be, with Pike, changing him for the better. She knew he never had a woman like her before.
Pike smelled something in the air.
“I think ya cake might be burning,” said Pike.
“Oh shit!” Sharon shouted. She jumped up and ran into the kitchen to save her cake in the oven.
Pike laughed. Sharon snatched her cake out of the oven just in time. She then pivoted toward Pike and blurted, “What are you laughing at?”
“You tryin’ to burn down my apartment?” he replied for a laugh.
“You think you can do better?”
“If you teach me,” Pike replied. “I always wanted to learn how to cook.”
“Well, you can learn from the master. And there’s something so sexy seeing a man in the kitchen and being able to cook.”
Pike smiled.
It was the kind of time Sharon yearned to have with him; fun and laughter. When he wasn’t thinking about sex or being an asshole, Pike was a pleasure to be around. She was truly enjoying his company this time around.
Sharon had no problem cooking for a man she wanted to love and have love her back. She and Pike set the table and the two sat down to the delicious meal. They talked about everything in the book. Pike was smart. He was educated. He just had some misfortune in his life and made some mistakes. Everyone made mistakes.
After dinner and conversation, Pike removed himself from the table and went back into his closet. He removed a loaded pistol and his illicit product. He looked at Sharon and asked, “Can you make another run for me?”
Sharon sighed heavily. She didn’t want to, but she was going to do it anyway. Whatever he needed from her, she was down, even if it meant risking her freedom, and probably her life.
She put on her sneakers, took the bag with the drugs, kissed Pike before she left, and went out the door to become his drug mule once again. In some way, Sharon felt pleased that he trusted her with such great responsibilities.
He was still using her, and she was still loving and so sweet to him.
Day Forty-Five
Every day in training was grueling and painstaking. There were days where Cristal didn’t sleep, barely ate, and was taught about survival. Day forty-five felt like two years in Cristal’s mind. She was training heavily, being educated on everything in the book, and she also started a regimen of more intensive training that included etiquette from table manners to speaking well to first-aid survival—how to heal the body when it was broken, injured, bleeding, and in pain. She started to miss home, but she was told there was no home for her anymore. The Commission was her family. Her friends—she didn’t know if they were still in training or gone. The outside world didn’t exist to her anymore. There was no news, no gossip, no entertainment, TV, or film. The only films she watched were of those the Farm deemed necessary for her training. She felt isolated and hardened.
However, each day at the Farm, she was growing better. She was healthier and smarter than ever, and becoming more educated and more deadly. She was taught how to shoot every caliber of weapon, how to aim and fire center mass, or fire a head shot to kill her targets. Guns became her routine and weapons training was fun for her.
Also, she was
becoming better in speaking German and Spanish. Every day she was taught and tested. Every day she was shedding the old layers of herself, her old ways, and becoming someone—or something—different.
Twice a week, doctors gave the remaining candidates a pill called P7C3 to take. The drug was to help induce strength and help the brain grow new cells. The pill was to enhance the users’ memory by 60 percent and structure their development.
Cristal and the others started to train in martial arts and hand-to-hand combat. They fought each other in the gym and were trained in several different ways to break limbs and bring their foes down, even if they were twice their size. When it came to knowing how to kill someone, Cristal loved it.
Out of the thirty so applicants in that church on the first day, only seventeen remained. And out of these seventeen, more were to leave. The Commission was handpicking the best of the best.
There was one female in Cristal’s group who caught her eyes. She and Cristal were the only females amongst the males training. She was black, a beautiful girl with dark skin and dark eyes. Her face was always stone, cold and unhappy. She had long, jet-black hair down to her butt. She had a slim figure, small boobs and ass, but she had long legs. She was shaped like a fashion runway model, tall. She looked half-black and half-Asian, and she spoke with a Jamaican accent.
Cristal didn’t know her, but she didn’t like her. For some reason, the girl’s presence was very strong.
DAY Sixty-Six
Every morning, the candidates did a six-mile run to enhance their cardio and stamina. Afterwards, it was an hour of calisthenics, followed by a light breakfast and another punishing day of training from sunup to sundown. Not a minute was wasted on the Farm. The candidates slept only a total of five to six hours a day.
On day sixty-six, they started to learn about poisons—both traceable and untraceable. Cyanide, arsenic, propylene glycol, and ricin—an extremely toxic protein obtained from the pressed seeds of the castor-oil plant—were some of the many poisons they started to become familiar with. They learned how each poison worked, how to apply it, what damage it did to the body, and how long it took for the poison to affect the victim. It was interesting to Cristal.
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