“You must have met that ping-pong bastard,” Isaac said. “I’d watch out for him. He’s a two-in-one: a natural talent and an ass kisser. I think he’s been here the longest. He’s Meacham’s favorite and one of the few people that’s allowed to call him Oliver.”

“Jericho? Are you going to eat that sandwich?” Zeta said.

Jericho did not feel like eating, but he kept the sandwich up and between his hands because he knew once he placed it down he would not pick it up again. He was having a bad day, but tomorrow would be his first official day of training, so he needed all the energy he could have.

He acknowledged that it was normal to feel like trash in such an already deplorable situation but now he was being pushed around by a grown man. However, it would not benefit him if he kept this depressing behavior up. Strengthening his mental was only one of the many things that he needed to do here. He would not survive if he allowed a small hiccup to ruin his day.

He forced himself to go to dinner with Zeta and Isaac when asked and now he was here telling himself that going was a good and bad decision.

“Have a juice.” Zeta handed him a circular juice cup. “Hopefully, it’ll help with your appetite.”

“Thank you,” Jericho said. He tore the seal and took a sip. It was apple flavored. He chugged the rest of the juice down and some liquid poured over running down his chin. It did not help much with his appetite.

“Is it your food?” Isaac asked. “We can get you something else.”

“No, this is fine.”

Jericho blinked rapidly. His eyes were dry from crying but he felt like crying some more especially with how kind his two roommates were. He was dealing with an influx of emotions.

Isaac said, “Look on the bright side! Meacham isn’t our instructor, so you don’t have to worry so much about him. Our instructor is an asshole too, but in a justified way.”

“In a justified way. Oh, gee,” Jericho said. “That makes me feel so much better.”

A girl slid into a seat with the trio. Jericho stared at his sandwich paying her no mind.

“We’re having training with your group tomorrow,” she said.

“Is that confirmed?” Zeta asked.

“It’s confirmed.”

“Too bad for you, Jericho,” Zeta said. “I wasn’t expecting a mixed class tomorrow.”

Jericho bit into a piece of lettuce with his two front teeth. “Sounds like you’re preparing me for a bad time.”

“Oh, it shouldn’t be too bad,” Isaac said. “The hard part comes half-way through training and it’s not like we’re training with the asshole group.”

“That’s true,” Zeta said.

“Hi, I’m Bobbi.” The girl lent out a hand for Jericho to shake. “I’m in Group B.”

“I have a sandwich in my hand,” Jericho said as he continued to stare off into the distance.

“He’s having a bad day. His evaluation didn’t go well,” Zeta said. “Sorry about that.”

“I’ll have to side with Jericho,” Isaac said. “Can’t have his hands dirty while he’s eating.”

“It’s fine,” Bobbi said. Instead of the handshake, she nodded and gave Jericho a thumbs up. “I’ll see you three tomorrow. You better be prepared. We won’t go easy on any of you, even if he is new.”

It would be another thirty minutes before Jericho finished his food.

***

If Jericho had spent his night sleeping he would have woken up on time. On the contrary, he barely slept. Most of his time was spent staring at the ceiling and when it was time to wake, or rather be alerted that he had been awake all night, he realized how badly the rest of the day was going to be.

Jericho climbed down from his bunk. He rubbed his eyes, unsure whether or not he was tired. He was standing tall now but that could easily change when he would arrive at the field house. He did not know what they had in store for him but he doubted his limited hours of sleep would help much.

His movements were depressed as he put on his black and green-striped tracksuit. Even his walk to the field house was slow, his feet moved like lead. The slowness reminded him of the powers of his kidnapper only this time it was a mental block.

He found himself stretching and moving his body around to get his blood pumping. Isaac and Zeta spoke to him while they warmed up but the words were mere blurbs that were indistinguishable to him.

He looked up and now he was running. He was not sure how he was moving but his legs moved forward harshly. Each stomp vibrated across his body and he knew his form was hurting him but he continued to move anyway. He was a robot, making human-like movements, but never really capitalizing on the human feel.

He now stared at the ceiling. His chest heaved up and down as he rested after his run. His thoughts now wandered about wondering what it meant to be human. Just because his movements were robotic and unnatural did not mean he was not a human. He was human, after all. What provoked his thought to characterize the movement of humans?

He raised up his arm, his hand outstretched towards the ceiling. He turned and flipped his hand around, staring at the lines of his palm and the veins on the back of his hand. His mind went empty again.

Isaac grabbed a hold of Jericho’s hand and hoisted him up.

“You good?” Isaac said.

Jericho grumbled in response, not knowing what Isaac said.

“He’s not good,” Zeta said.

“I can’t really snap him out of it,” he said. “It’s a mental thing.”

“What are we going to do? It’ll only worsen if he doesn’t pick it up. Watkins is going to notice sooner or later. He’s lucky that we’ve been doing this as a group. We already know the routine but he’s screwed when he does anything solo. I don’t even think he knows Watkins exists.”

“I’ll handle it if something happens,” Isaac said.

After 4 hours had passed, they began their hour-long break. Jericho was relieved and somewhat amused that break-times were better than a corporate job. The facility had tables stationed at the end of the field house filled with food, and more empty tables to eat at. There was no need for them to walk to the dining hall although the guards would come in to take food every so often.

“Don’t eat so much,” Zeta said.

“I know, but I need the energy,” Jericho said. After eating he began to feel better, so he ate more than he usually did to make up for his depressive mood. “Is there anything I should know about the other group? Are they the ass kissers or natural talents?”

Zeta said, “A bit of both, although they’re not as stringent on the bare minimum style as us. They put in the work, but they don’t overwork themselves. Bobbi is nice, but she’s just as ruthless. Don’t forget that everyone here is a possible enemy.”

“What does that make you two then?” Jericho said as he bit into another energy bar.

“We’re your friends,” Isaac said.

Friends already? Jericho thought.

“We look out for each other,” Zeta said. “But, we also look out for each other.”

Jericho nodded idly.

“Do we train our abilities with the others? I was hoping to get some practice down.” Jericho said. “All we’ve done so far is physical exercise. I wouldn’t mind seeing how well I do in a fight.”

“Are you excited for a fight?” Isaac said. “You’ll get one in thirty minutes, so just wait. You should know we’re allowed to stay after training to practice abilities in our down-time. The only time we practice our abilities is with the other students. At least, that’s what Watkins’ take is on it.”

Zeta tapped the side of her head with her index finger. “The way they see it is this: Physical ability relates to power ability. I agree with that, but they’re forgetting about the mental ability.”

“Should I be worried?” Jericho said.

“Not at all,” Isaac said. “All you have to do is have some confidence. Remember, you were kidnapped for a reason.”

“Gee, thanks,” Jericho said.

When the the hour was over, they returned to the middle of the field house and did a mini-warm-up to get their blood flowing again. It was at this time that Jericho’s stomach decided to ache.

“Jericho!” A man called him over. “You look like you woke up a bit. Zeta and Isaac don’t usually eat more than a light breakfast before we train, but you should probably get up a little earlier to eat something filling.

Who is this guy? Jericho thought.

The man continued to talk gibberish before he finished with, “How about you spar with Bobbi?”

Jericho nodded his head as he replied. “Bobbi? Sure.”

He probably should have asked who Bobbi was but he walked two steps away and reached the point of no return. He looked around to see the other group. Their tracksuits were similar but they had blue stripes. They consisted of four members, two guys and two girls. He decided to talk to one of the guys first.

“Do you need something?” He said.

“You’re Bobbi, right?”

He pointed behind Jericho. “That’s Bobbi.”

Jericho turned around to see the other girl and guy of the group talking.

“Bobbi?” Jericho asked the guy.

“Fucking Christ,” the girl said. “You went through two other people and you didn’t even realize I’m Bobbi! I introduced myself yesterday too!”

“Oh, sorry,” Jericho said. He was genuine with his apology but he still felt like a dick.

The first thing he noticed was Bobbi’s height. She was an inch shy of his height and he immediately thought she was capable of kicking his ass. The observation was from physical prowess alone. It was obvious she spent more time strengthening her body than Jericho had ever tried.

She tilted her head pointing to one of the four sparring mats.

“You’re a healer,” Bobbi said. “I wond—“

“Yeah,” Jericho said blankly.

“I wasn’t done talking. I was goi—“

“Oh, sorry.”

“You know what? Let’s just get started. I hope you can heal this!”

Bobbi advanced, her footwork caught Jericho by surprise, and she struck him on the face. It was the same location where Meacham hit him. She pushed his head away and when he turned it back, she punched him again.

“I don’t need my power to fight you.”

What are the rules? He thought. If he was in a better headspace, he would have asked, but he continued.

She paced in place and Jericho waited for her next move. In his current condition, he would not be able to react or think as well. He knew to do the former, but his inability to do the latter made him perform worse than he thought.

“Your move. Show me what you got,” she said. She jabbed him again on the same spot. “Psyche.”

He staggered backwards and fell to the ground. The hit made his brain rattle, but the impact on the mat made his stomach churn. He gagged and he groaned thinking how foolish it was to assume he could not feel any worse.

He rose to his feet, then raised his hands up to neck level. He kept his fists open to thwart any incoming punches from Bobbi. He also made sure to protect his stomach because one hit to his abdomen would mean game over.

He wondered if he could heal a stomachache and considered the logistics of how that would even work. He tried to reach the visceral plane and use his power, but that connection was blocked. It was a stupid idea, anyway.

Jericho had been distracted when Bobbi advanced again. Despite his delayed reaction so far, he managed to raise a hand to block the upcoming kick. He grabbed her foot and was about to push her away, but she turned, jumped, and kicked him with her other foot.

It took one kick to the stomach to make Jericho puke half of his lunch. He puked the rest when he realized he was in the process of puking. Bobbi was still within distance, and the vomit traveled towards her. He tried his best to turn but flakes of spit, stomach juices, and his food continued to leave his body.

Bobbi waved her right hand over her head and upper body, then circled her hands around one another before waving them over Jericho.

Jericho’s roommates along with Bobbi’s group walked over. They were concerned about his well-being, but not that concerned to watch him vomit and see the resulting mess.

“Watkins!” Bobbi called. “We need some medical personnel. Also, send a janitor to the bathrooms.”

Jericho looked up to see a man. With leftover vomit in his mouth, he said, “Watkins?”

Watkins cringed at the sight of him. “You can sit out the rest of the training today. Get yourself cleaned up and go see a nurse.”

Jericho used his sleeve to wipe off some of the vomit. He went to Bobbi. “Sorry I vomited on you.”

“None of it got on me, so it’s fine,” she said. “I would have killed you if it did though.”

“It didn’t?” Jericho looked to see her tracksuit spotless. He looked at the mat and noticed the same thing too. His vomit was nowhere to be found.

“It’s my power,” she said. “I can transport things, and that includes your vomit. It’s somewhere in the bathrooms. Not sure if I was able to put it into the toilet though.”

“You’re not the person who sent that tire flying at me, were you?” Jericho spoke with conviction.

“That was Kenny. Don’t group me up with him.” She eyed him down. “I’m being serious when I say I would’ve killed you.”

Jericho nodded, then made his way to the bathroom to clean himself up. He was not sure how he would have reacted if she was the person that threw the tire at him, but he knew he would have responded violently. In that moment, something inside him clicked, something primal, but it instantly went away.

He did not like the feeling.