Training Hall Two

The Academy

The students clustered outside of the locker rooms nervously taking in the training hall around them. The chamber was two hundred meters across, with a running track ringing the circular edges and a domed ceiling high above them. In the center of the chamber was an open field covered with the same rubber material that the track was made from. In the center of this field was a wide variety of workout equipment and weight machines the likes of which few of the students had ever seen. The machines appeared to be like those found in gyms throughout the country, but of heavier and far bulkier construction.

El looked at the black t-shirts and khaki shorts most of the other students wore and then pondered the black unitard he and several other students wore. It was form-fitting, began at his knees and went up to his shoulders, leaving his head, hands, and lower legs uncovered. El noticed that Sharon also wore one. He wondered if these unitards were made from that special material that shape-shifting heroes wore, the kind that would change with them. If so he was relieved that he would not have to strip down in order to shift anymore.

“Get over here rookies. I am not one to be kept waiting!” The speaker was a fit woman in her thirties standing near the main entrance to the hall about thirty meters from the students. Near her were four others, one the healer who had patched El up yesterday and three other men he did not know. All of them wore the same t-shirt and shorts the students did. “Move!” At her second yell the students broke into a run and gathered around her.

“I am Instructor King, and unlike MacDonald, my job is not to hold your hand but to beat your bodies into the condition and to prepare you for combat. Technically I am your combat and conditioning instructor. I know some of you are wondering why this program is slated to cover three years. Do any of you know how long the US takes to train a Navy Seal? No? Two and a half damn years. Thirty months to be considered fully combat-ready. How about our own Joint Task Force Two? Two years, and even then you are the FNG, the rookie who barely knows dick about being a special operator.”

Her voice was clear and confident projecting a wealth of experience. “You will spend all day four days a week here with me and my assistant instructors. You will hate us, you will curse our mothers for inflicting us on the world. But if we do our job and you make it through here, you might survive long enough to retire from hero work.” She stopped talking and begin taking steps backwards. El’s instincts began screaming in the back of his brain and his body began to tense. The wolf called to be released, it knew something was up.

“Now because you do not know me and have only my word that you need to listen when I speak we need to come to an understanding. This is almost a cliche, but my combat instructor did this when I was in a position similar to yours. The main difference is that I was one of the young metahumans sent to the US to train and you lovelies are on home soil.” She now stood ten meters from the crowd, arms at her sides and one foot to the side and back from the other.

“Who thinks they have what it takes to take me out?”

At first, none of the students moved, then a blur streaked past Laura’s shoulder and circled Instructor King. Laura and the other students took several large steps back. She could barely make out the figure of a male classmate running at insane speeds and peppering the instructor with dozens of punches. Each seemed to have no effect, neither moving the King nor making her react in pain. Instructor King threw several punches, each barely missing.

The reaction when King connected was extreme as the student was propelled backwards at high velocity, tumbling when to a stop twenty meters away and groaning softly. The healer trotted over and placed his hands on his back, telling him to lay still.

“Anyone else?” Instructor King seemed relaxed, but El could notice a slight tension in her shoulders and that her weight was mostly on the balls of her feet. In answer, a girl El could only describe as beautiful rose above the crowd. The air around her was glowing and had a distinct shimmer. “Ah, Miss Miller I see. Bring it, girl.”

“Miss Miller” flew forward, the glow turning more intense as she streaked high over the head of her opponent. Three pulses of light shot from her outstretched hands toward Instructor King. The older woman jumped to the right, landing with a roll, one hand darting to a small pouch on her belt. Where the pulses of the light hit were now blackened and melting, smoke rising in the air.

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As King rolled back to a standing position Miller turned and turned back around for a second pass. A pair of ball bearings in the instructor’s hand trembled and shot forward, cracking with a sharp sound reminiscent of a pair of gunshots. The first impacted something in front of the flying student, sending a distinct ripple in the air. The second ball tore through her abdomen bloodily forcing a startled cry from the girl. She struggled to remain in control of her abilities. The air dimmed around her as she descended to land roughly, rolled twice and lay curled around her wounded belly. She had barely hit the ground when the healer had moved to her side.

Laura stepped close to El and whispered,” I am beginning to think all the instructors are sadists. Notice that the first thing each does is talk to us for like two minutes, and then proceed to beat the crap out of us?”

Instructor King made a show of wiping non-existent dust off her hands as she walked up to the rest of her students. “At this point, you all trust I know what I am talking about? Good. You people were selected from hundreds of applicants for a number of reasons, the only one we are going to address here is this: all metahumans have a finite limit to their power. No matter how hard they work they will never surpass that ceiling. You people all have great potential no matter where you stand now. Our first order of business today is to establish a baseline. Up first is endurance, you will be running as many laps as you can in one hour. This is a test rookies, if we see you slacking off...there will be consequences.”

Forty-five minutes into the run a number of students were slowing noticeably. Sharon had opted to stay in her human form as her gargoyle form was incredibly strong and tough it was not particularly fast while running. None of the students who could fly had chosen to after the first was yelled at by an instructor about “keeping it to the ground, the fliers gets tested later today.” Luckily she had been involved in sports and physical training for many years so a one-hour run should not tax her too badly.

The class kept to the inner portion of the track, the outer lane was reserved for the constant blur where two students could run at extreme speeds. Since a person running at several hundred kilometres per hour displaced quite a bit of air, their constant passage created a refreshing breeze over the others.

Sharon was working to keep a solid pass but was still got passed occasionally by others. She was relieved to see that two of her teammates were doing well and indeed had passed her also. Elvis had transformed into a timber wolf and was eating up the distance with the long, loose-limbed trot that made running look effortless. Laura, on the other hand, was flat-out sprinting with an intense look of concentration on her face. At first, Sharon wondered how the hell could she be sprinting for an entire hour, but then remembered that Laura had said she never got tired from physical exercise.

Unfortunately, not all of her team was doing so well. Drew was lagging behind the pack. Moron showed up out of shape to the Academy, she thought. Too dependent on his precious technology to get the hard stuff done for him. His skin was flushed, his legs wobbled, and a sheen of sweat covered his bald head. Dammit! If he fails it will look bad on me. This must be another test. Sharon caught up to Drew, and instead of passing him again fell in step with his pace and pulled in front of him.

“Drew, grab hold of my shirt. We are almost done.”

“Je ne peux pas, je suis trop fatigué.” His speech was ragged, almost choked out between hoarse breaths.

“To hell with being too tired! What if your crap fails and people are still depending on you?”

He glared at her then reached up and took a grasp on the back of her black unitard. A short distance later Sharon felt the pull on her uniform lesson, then whipped her head around sure that Drew had given up and fallen out of the run. This was not the case, however. Laura was running behind the exhausted boy from Quebec, hands on his back and pushing him forward.

When the time was called to stop the tired students made their way to where the instructors were standing. Drew was hunched over, hands on his knees, sucking in massive amounts of air. Laura patted him on the back. “Good work buddy, you didn’t give up.”

Sharon was not as impressed,” Good teamwork Laura.” The smaller girl beamed at her and Sharon noticed she was not even sweating.

“Now that you are good and warmed up it is time to test your strength. Let's see just how strong you heroes of tomorrow are,” Instructor King called as she called passed the students and made her way to the massive weight machines.

Sharon smiled and willed her shape to change; her skin grew hand and grey, her dimensions more solid and bulky, and wings sprouted from her back spreading with a flap that lifted her several inches in the air before she settled back down.

Drew had dropped to his knees, then rolled laying on his back covered in sweat and panting heavily, “Merde. When do we get to a calculus test, or perhaps physics?”