Olga entered the employee common room, feeling a little nostalgic for the few days when it was just her and Natasha.

  Now, the common room was full, with women chatting and having breakfast.

  Some were in uniform, ready for their shift at the heavy water plant, others were either in their bed clothes, enjoying time until their afternoon and evening shifts began.

  "Olga, come here and sit," called Jennifer, one of the new girls.

  Olga approached the table where Jennifer and a couple of other girls sat, her leather uniform creaking.

  "You've been reassigned to that school detail?" asked Jennifer, dunking an Oreo cookie into a glass of warm milk.

  "Yup. Master Zakhrov wants me to oversee security over there, since I'm familiar with the gangs who operate in the area," said Olga.

  "Great! That means we're stuck with Ms. Drill Sergeant with a stick up her ass," sighed Jennifer.

  "You were in the Navy before you joined up here right? Pretty sure Natasha isn't as bad as some of those naval drill instructors," chuckled Olga, sipping her coffee, and noticing Natasha come up behind Jennifer.

  "Come on Olga! You were a Fed! You should know that the Navy got rid of those war movie type drill instructors ages ago! Maybe that's why the old lady got the shaft," said Jennifer.

  "I'd be more careful about saying things like that. Natasha's ex CIA, she's probably seen more shit than all of us put together," said Olga, fighting down the urge to make eye-contact with Natasha, who was standing behind Jennifer with a smirk.

  "Listen Olga, she may be your friend, but you've got to admit that she's starting to hit the wall right? I'm pretty sure if she takes off her corset, she'll be a saggy mess. Come on! Ask the kid for a promotion, and we'll be able to git rid of the hag," said Jennifer.

  "Ambitious, are we? Let's say I do that, what's in it for you? You take my spot?" asked Olga.

  "But of course! And then we'll probably be able to push back against these ridiculous rules and heels," said Jennifer with a grin.

  "Tempting, but I think I'll pass. I actually happen to like these heels," said Olga with a smirk.

  "Seriously? I think you're being chicken-shit," scoffed Jennifer.

  Olga let out a chuckle.

  "You're new here, so you probably haven't heard about the Mario incident, have you?" she asked.

  Jennifer shook her head, curiosity piqued.

  "No, what's that?" she asked.

  "A couple of months ago, some idiot tried to smuggle a can of heavy water out of that facility you say is a boring job, and let's just say his head rolled, thanks to Natasha's blade," said Olga.

  "Wait, are you telling me that Miss hard-ass actually cut off a guy's head?" asked Jennifer.

  "Why don't you ask her yourself?" chuckled Olga, as Natasha drew her combat knives and slid them under Jennifer's neck.

  "You're attention please," called out Natasha, and the room went silent and tense as the girls saw her standing behind a petrified Jennifer, with the razor-sharp blades of her combat knives just touching her trembling neck.

  "Today's impromptu lesson is how to cleanly decapitate a threat, and this little newbie here with her bitchy mouth is going to be our first volunteer," said Natasha to the apprehensive audience.

  "As you can see, the position of the knife blades is directly along the C4-C5 intervertebral disc. This allows you to cut through the neck cleanly without getting blocked by bone," continued Natasha, sheathing her left combat knife, grabbing Jennifer's hair and forcing her head straight.

  She came around so that she was now facing Jennifer, with the knife resting lightly against the side of her neck.

  "Now, this particular combat knife is a titanium alloy, and is sharp enough to be able to cut right through this area with a single slash.

  However, you need to watch out for the back of the chair, or else your blade will get stuck," she said raising her right combat knife and swinging it in an arc, which landed with the tip with a little clearance from the back of Jennifer's chair.

  "Any questions?" asked Natasha, looking around the room.

  "Ma'am why not do it from the front instead of the side?" asked Olga, enjoying Jennifer's squirming.

  "Good question, Olga. The reason is that if you do it from the front, you risk embedding the blade in the back of the chair, and you don't have the same leverage as you do from the side.

  Slitting just the throat works easily from the front, but if you want to decapitate, you need to do it from the side," said Natasha, as she slowly pulled the blade away from Jennifer's neck.

  "Now, I'm going to warn you girls just once. If you have a problem with the rules, you can go back to the shit you were doing before you joined up.

  But, if you think that you can play politics, start whisper networks and cliques, or try passive-aggressive bullshit to get the rules changed, then you are welcome to try fighting this old hag who's past her prime.

  And the price for losing, is I collect your head. Are we clear?" asked Natasha, surveying the now terrified girls.

  "Y-yes ma'am," whispered Jennifer, her face white.

  "I said, are we clear?" asked Natasha again.

  "Yes, ma'am," answered the rest of the girls, fear evident in their voices.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "Good, now morning shift. Get to work. The rest of you, two laps around the compound. Double time!" barked Natasha, and the girls scrambled to obey.

  ---

  "Hey, Margaret? Can you do something about this pantyhose? James asked me to go horse riding with him, and these things don't cut it," said Olga to Margaret, who was stocking up the newly built school outfitters in the St. Ignatius Academy campus.

  Margaret cocked her head thoughtfully. "Hmm, I think I can add some reinforcement to the gusset," she mused.

  Olga raised an eyebrow. "Here's an idea, why not just give me a pair of breeches?" she asked.

  "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," said Margaret, her eyes narrowing.

  "There must be something in the water that makes you guys allergic to pants," muttered Olga.

  Margaret grabbed roll of thick black yarn, fired up the weaving robot, and keyed in a few parameters into its touchscreen.

  The robot whirred to life, and after a few minutes, produced a pair of black pantyhose with a noticeably thicker gusset.

  "Here, try these on," she said, handing Olga the freshly fabricated pair of pantyhose.

  Olga went into the changing room and slipped them on. The modified gusset felt much thicker, but still comfortable.

  "If I climax again, I'm going to tan your hide Margaret," she said, stepping out of the changing room.

  "Mmm, I wonder how heavy of a hand you have," teased Margaret, as Olga facepalmed.

  "I forgot you're into that stuff," she said, rolling her eyes.

  "This coming from the one who just yesterday climaxed on a saddle?" chuckled Margaret, causing Olga to blush red.

  "Shut up! I was just caught off guard, and it was James' fault!" she protested.

  "Yeah, yeah, now go have fun with your new boyfriend," said Margaret, waving her off.

  Olga left the outfitters, her face still flushed from embarrassment.

  "I got to give Margaret more credit, this new pair is much better for horseback riding," mused Olga, as she and James cantered around the construction site, staying close to the perimeter walls.

  Her radio buzzed to life, and the tense voice of one of the new campus security officers came through: "Ms. Olga, we have a semi truck approaching the main gate at high speed! It looks like it's trying to ram through the gate!"

  "Deploy the spikes and mobilize!" ordered Olga, as she and James galloped towards the main gate.

  The massive 18-wheeler tore through the security booms, and flipped to its side as its tires exploded on the spikes.

  Its momentum carried it forward, and it crashed into the gate, knocking it off its sliding grooves and down onto the ground.

  Still mounted, Olga and James carefully approached the wrecked truck, weapons drawn.

  The trailer opened, and a group of armed thugs staggered out, dazed by the crash.

  Olga and James opened fire first, their rubber bullets knocking the thugs down into a heap.

  The four new campus security guards arrived and fired on the ten still alert thugs who came charging out of the truck.

  Within a few minutes, all the thugs were disarmed and zip-tied.

  Olga nudged her horse forward.

  "You boys can do this the easy way and talk now, or we could do this the hard way and drag your asses around the campus until you talk," she said.

  One of the thugs, a man with a bright yellow Mohawk spat on the ground and hissed.

  "Hard way it is then. Johnson, secure them to my saddle bow," ordered Olga to one of the campus security officers.

  "Is that necessary ma'am?" asked Johnson, looking apprehensively at Olga.

  "Ask that question to the two guards who were pumped full of lead by these guys during that gang war," snapped Olga.

  With a steely determination, Johnson fetched a length of rope, and tied the thugs to Olga's saddle bow.

  Screams of pain filled the air as Olga cantered around the campus, dragging the thugs behind her.

  After four laps, she stopped and turned her horse around, facing the thugs.

  "Talk or I start a gallop in 3... 2..." she began.

  "OK! OK!" groaned one of the thugs, his arms and legs covered in scrapes and bruises.

  "We was bailed out, and was supposed to tear this place up," he said, wincing in pain.

  "By whom?" asked Olga.

  "Your Momma!" shouted the thug, earning a laugh from his companions.

  Their laughter turned into screams as Olga kicked her horse into a gallop, dragging them behind her.

  By the time she stopped, the thugs were barely conscious, their bodies battered and bruised.

  She drew her gun and loaded a live ammo clip.

  "Since you cockroaches don't want to talk. I guess I'll just have to exterminate you," she said, aiming her gun at the thug with the Mohawk.

  "Don't know! Don't know! Swear! We just was let outta jail and was given guns an' a truck with a note to come here and wreck the place!" he shouted, his voice trembling with fear.

  Bang! Bang! Bang! The ten thugs were executed with a single 9 mm bullet to the head each.

  Olga holstered her gun, and trotted her horse back to the main gate, dragging the bodies behind her.

  ---

  "These things are quite handy," commented Olga as she watched one of Harry's digger drones scoop up the bodies of the thugs, and dump them into a large pit that had been dug in the ground near the northern perimeter wall.

  At the main gate, a large bulldozer was pushing the wrecked truck out of the way, clearing the entrance.

  "It's one of the reasons we're able to build so fast," chuckled James, standing next to her.

  "I think I understand what Natasha felt when she executed that Mario guy," said Olga, as she watched the drone dump the last of the bodies into the pit.

  James sighed. "It's a damn shame he didn't come to us first. We could have helped him deal with whatever radicalized him," he said, shaking his head.

  "It doesn't work that way, James. I've seen enough of counter-terrorism work to know that it doesn't matter how well-intentioned you are. Radicalization happens for sometimes the most innocuous things," said Olga, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

  "Yeah, I guess you're right," said James, looking down at the ground, before he straightened up and took a deep breath.

  "All right, the area is secured, let's get the bunks in the security room ready," he said, leading her to the security room.

  ---

  "I see, excellent work Olga," said Natasha over the phone as she heard Olga's report.

  "The security booms have been repaired, so we should be fine. But I decided that we should bunk for the night over here, just in case we get a surprise night attack," said Olga.

  "I agree. You need any stuff from the main compound?" asked Natasha.

  "No, we've got what we need here. How are things over there?" asked Olga.

  "Things are fine over here. I think the newbies have finally gotten the message," chuckled Natasha, as she surveyed the battered forms of the new recruits, with Jennifer, the ringleader, writhing on the floor, her arm sticking in an unnatural angle.

  "Please tell me you didn't kill anyone," said Olga, her voice tinged with concern.

  "Nah, just a little roughing up. They'll be fine in a couple of days. Though Jennifer will need some time to recover," said Natasha.

  "Understood, ma'am," said Olga, and Natasha hung up the phone.

  "Now, where were we?" asked Natasha, grabbing Jennifer by the hair and pulling her up.

  "Ma'am, please! I didn't mean it! It was just talk!" pleaded Jennifer, tears streaming down her face.

  "Just talk? Let's get one thing straight. Never talk unless you can back it up. Now, what should I break next? Your spine perhaps? I think I like the idea of you being stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of your miserable ungrateful life," said Natasha, throwing Jennifer onto the floor.

  "No! I beg you! Please don't do this!" screamed Jennifer, her voice breaking.

  "Then this had better be the last time you dare to undermine my authority, or insult the uniform that Master Zakhrov has so graciously designed to protect us," said Natasha, her voice cold and steely.

  "Yes, ma'am! I promise! I won't do it again!" sobbed Jennifer, her body trembling with fear.

  Natasha turned to the other recruits, who were watching in silence.

  "That goes for the rest of you as well. Now that you've seen how effective this uniform is, I expect you to wear it with pride and respect. Understood?" she asked.

  "Yes, ma'am!" chorused the recruits, their voices trembling with fear.

  Natasha pulled out her phone again and called Aaron this time.

  "Master Zakhrov, I need a discreet ambulance pickup for the new recruits. Some of them need some medical attention," she said.

  "Hmm, I think I might need to acquire a hospital if this is going to be a regular occurrence," chuckled Aaron on the other end.

  "Um, sir, we can figure that out later, right now I've got a girl with a broken Ulna and a dislocated shoulder," said Natasha.

  "Got it. I'm calling an ambulance now," said Aaron, hanging up.