The smell of sweat overrode all others. Her breathing was steady, perhaps a little quickened. Every muscle felt limber and warm, ready to respond to her every command. She stood slightly crouched into a defensive posture. Brad glared at her from his back, then kicked his legs and flipped up onto his feet. He wiped at his nose, then hissed at her.<br/><br/>"I hope you enjoyed that vantage point... You'll never look down on me again, bitch."<br/><br/>He launched himself at her. Smiling her taunting little grin, she sidestepped his bull-charge, planted the heel of her hand in the small of his back and shoved. The force of his own momentum added to her shove and sent him reeling toward the edge of the black circle painted on the padded mat. He barely managed to stop himself and spun on her. Rather than waste effort cursing her he approached again. This time his advance was slower, calculating. She stood ready, opting to let him come to her. She kept her gloved hands raised, though they were relaxed. Clenching them into fists wouldn't serve her as much as leaving them loose. It would infuriate him to see her relaxed posture. She winked at him and he growled. Suddenly he shot his right fist forward. At the same time he swept a leg out to trip her, assuming she'd devote her attention to deflecting his right jab, and that she'd miss the sweep. He assumed wrong. She hooked her toes behind his heel, gripped his right wrist in hers and jerked. Predictably, he lost his balance and toppled.<br/><br/>"And that..." she taunted, "Is how we sweep, here at the Agency."<br/><br/>With a few swift moves, she had him pinned. Her left arm was wrapped around his neck from behind as he lay on his belly. Her left wrist was locked behind her flexed right arm, creating a choke-hold he could not break. Growling, he tapped her leg three times and she released him.<br/><br/>"Well done, scrub." she said as she left the ring, "Don't be late tomorrow..."<br/><br/>Without looking back at him, she left the room, headed for the locker room. Ten minutes she was standing before the mirror blow-drying her short black hair when a young girl she didn't recognize hurried into the bathroom.<br/><br/>"M-Miss Hansen... He wants to see you."<br/><br/>Melinda raised one pencil-thin eyebrow. She nodded calmly, though she hardly felt it. To this day, she could never enter that office easily, no matter how many times she did it. Granted... she could probably count the number of visits she'd paid on one hand... it was more than anyone else could say.<br/><br/>She dropped the hair drier onto the sink stand, and stepped back, peering at herself in the mirror. She wore the standard uniform of her rank. Her trousers and shirt were perfectly ironed, shoes shone with a fresh layer of polish. The belt buckle winked, reflecting the flourescent lighting. Nodding to herself she left the bathroom after running her fingers through her hair, arranging it into place as best she could.<br/><br/>"That'll have to do..."<br/><br/>She stepped out of the elevator a minute and a half later. The secretary at the desk held up a hand, signaling for her to wait. Melinda complied, coming to a relaxed, though attentive stance before the desk.<br/><br/>"Sir... Miss Hansen to see you..." the secretary spoke into her microphone, still holding up the hand that might as well have the word 'halt' tattooed on it.