Once More, With Feeling... – Chapter 3: Agony and Errantry
Summary: There were three tests to pass, three hefty qualifications to meet; is Cloud up to the task?
Author: Illusor Meaneld
Rated T: for Descriptive violence and injuries, No Adult Situations, No Cussing.
Disclaimer: I did not create, and do not own the characters from Final Fantasy 7, They are owned by Square-Enix, and I am simply borrowing them for my own (and hopefully your) enjoyment.
The Evaluations began on Friday, The evening before they had been given a couple of free hours for preparation or extra sleep if they needed it. Now was when the real competition began. The tests were done in two shifts; half of the Recruits took their written tests in the morning, while their bunk-mates took the physicals. Then the two groups switched places in the afternoon. The tests spanned three days, So that recovery was possible between each of the grueling exams. Cloud was in the second group, his physical tests would be first. So it was with a distinctive feeling of dread that the blond dragged himself out to the field on Friday morning. He knew he wasn't ready, at his previous best he hadn't managed half the number of push-ups he needed to pass. When he'd signed the paper to try out for SOLDER Prep., His instructors had smiled pityingly.
"So you want to be in SOLDIER eh boys?" The test instructor bellowed down the line of recruits at attention. "Let's see if you have what it takes! Drop and give me a thousand! Anyone who gives up, or can't finish isn't cut out for SOLDIER!"
With the motions drilled into him over the past four weeks Cloud dropped to the ground. Counting mentally so as to keep his breath as best as possible. By the time he reached 300 he was sweating profusely, his face was red from the blood flow, and he panted, breathing the dirt as he went down. Somehow he managed to reach 600, his arms were quivering, and tears streamed from his eyes with the exertion. Determined to make the cut he kept going, at 800 he could no longer feel his arms, his legs were a constant shooting pain from his toes to his hips. Sheer willpower kept him going, when the officer counting for him hit 1,000… Cloud never heard it; a hand on his shoulder told him he was done. They had to help him off the ground.
After a brief pause for lunch, he was half-dragged into the room where his written test was taking place. He'd finished his push-ups later than the other boys, and the test instructor in this room eyed his ashen face with mild concern. He spent the next 5 minutes remembering how his fingers worked, and with shaking hands he filled out the papers before him. Even with his belated start, he finished before the other students. Staggering to the front of the room to hand it in, and wandering sluggishly in the direction of his bed. He stood by his bunk fumbling to unbutton the first button on his shirt for a full minute before he simply gave up, and collapsed on top of everything, falling into oblivion-like sleep almost immediately.
The next morning Cloud woke impossibly sore, every motion sent waves of pain all over his body. He tottered over to the showers, put the spray on as hot as he could stand and agonizingly tried to stretch out the stiffness. There was little he could do about the pain, he'd overworked his muscles, they would need to recover, but he could try at least to minimize how much MORE damage he inflicted today. He managed to scarf down breakfast, which he couldn't remember tasting later, and blearily lurched to the pools. Here they did more preparation stretches, and Cloud wasn't the only one stifling his groans. As his group lined up on the diving stands the blond stubbornly squashed his horror. There was NO failure option! He told himself firmly, He HAD to pass! Pass or die… the morbid portion of his mind added. As the shot from the gun rang out Cloud and his companions dove into the pool, his muscles had quieted to a dull whimper as he began his laps, trying to establish as even a rhythm as possible. His body was screaming at him again in no time, and it was a struggle to keep up his pace. By the end of this test he felt he was breathing as much water as air, and had long since lost track of whatever his feet were doing. It was only by watching his arms that he knew they were moving in some semblance of a stroke. Again, he had to be helped up. He finished his written test in a water-logged haze, (though he knew it was still done well.) and too full on chlorine to possibly eat anything he hit the bunk again and was instantly deep in dreamless slumber.
One of his bunk-mates had to shake him out of bed the next morning, and a second boy guided him to the showers before breakfast. Cloud couldn't remember eating, though he knew he must have. The next thing he was aware of, he was strapped down with a heavy pack and standing in line behind the rest of the boys in his group while an officer explained the rules of the test again. This test had all of the recruits; there were only two written tests so there could be enough time to devote to the cross-country trek. This was the exam he'd been dreading. … The only one of the three evaluations that was TIMED, he would fail if he couldn't keep up a specified pace, and Cloud had always come in at least a 30 minutes later than the others during practice. When the other recruits started moving, he knew the test had started. With a heavy sigh and a grunt he forced himself to jog after them. At first he just tried to focus on pacing himself. He couldn't afford to use up all his energy in the beginning, he'd never make it to the end. He had carefully tried to plot out just how fast he would have to go during each segment to make the cut. … He knew he wasn't nearly fast enough.
When he reached the One-Quarter mark, he was exhausted, with a glance at his watch he also realized he was five minutes behind his planned schedule. Tightening the straps on his backpack he forced himself to pick up the pace, he chose another boy ahead of him who seemed to be going about as fast as he wanted to be and tried to match his speed.
As Cloud made it to the half-way mark he was half-blind from sweat and every breath felt like sandpaper in his throat. His watch told him he was still 5 minutes behind, With a wheeze and a growl he moved faster still. His legs had gone mostly numb, allowing just enough feeling through for stabbing pain with every step.
At the Three-Quarter mark Cloud had ceased paying any attention to his surrounding beyond ensuring his feet were following the path. He dared not stop, for he knew he would never move again if he did. The numbers on his watch indicated he was still 3 minutes behind. He wracked his brain, if he pushed faster now, he would never have the strength for the sprint at the end. As it was he could barely keep moving. His pace quickened, blind to all else he staggered unerringly towards his goal.
At 700 yards out he could see the big clock, he had 5 minutes left, already the boys near the end were sprinting. Cloud felt leaden, his legs were moving robotically now, there was no way he could make it! He couldn't move any faster! The clock ticked down to four minutes … Cloud leaned forward, dug his feet in to start running and…..
Cloud woke up to the sound of voices above him. And a cold, wet cloth pressed to his forehead.
"Hey kid, are you alright? Kid? Can you hear me?"
"Strife?" There were vague shapes hovering over him when he opened his eyes. "You there Strife?"
"Gnnnn" Cloud answered, he could see the blue sky with clouds passing overhead, though he was laying on a cot in the shade.
"Oh Thank the Cetra!" Cloud's clearing consciousness identified the voice as belonging to a young-man. "I was sure I was going to have to bury you." What had happened? Cloud wondered, he remembered trying to run, had he tripped on a rock so close to the finish? Had he knocked himself out? Blinking in attempt to bring the world to focus Cloud tried to speak, croaked a groan and tried again. It was only after the youth helping him gave him water that he managed intelligible words.
"…make it?" He muttered, "Did… did I make it?" The nameless officer stared at him, and then started to laugh, for a moment despair overwhelmed him, his eyes began to sting.
"Good heavens, BARELY kid! Though I swear we should have a rule about being ALIVE when you pass the finish line." He continued to clean the sweat from Cloud's face. "Welcome to SOLDIER Prep. Cadet! Though with someone as close as you came we often recommend waiting six months anyways. Your written test scores were really good though, so we're letting you in if you want."
Cloud tried to manage a smile, he had no idea how well he succeeded since he couldn't feel his face. "I made it…" He breathed, he could hardly believe it himself! Maybe the planet had helped somehow, the idea amused him.
"Didn't think you were going to." The young man added, "That's the closest call I've ever seen." Cloud rasped a chuckle with him. The officer picked up Cloud's limp hand, "My name is Corporal Jenkins." His brown eyes flashed, and a grin spread across his face when Cloud feebly squeezed in response.
"… Cloud … Strife…"
"Private Strife," the Corporal's smile diminished, "In all truth, I'm not sure you're ready for the S.P. program. The physical demands are the highest of any section…" Cloud frowned, "BUT!" the Officer added hastily, "Your test scores and intelligence are more than enough to place you easily in Special Ops! I'm sure you'd become a Turk in just a few years, and…!"
"No." The blond Private declined firmly, "I want to be in SOLDIER."
"It's your hell kid, just don't kill yourself." Jenkins shook his head slowly.
Later that evening, Cloud lay in his bunk, incapable of moving, and finally paused to think about what the Corporal had suggested. Cloud, a Turk? … The thought of him in a Blue Suit had him chuckling for hours.
The suggestion of going into Special Ops instead was slightly less amusing the next morning when Cloud was dragged into the infirmary. He'd severely strained a number of muscles, and his joints had swelled up from abuse. The next three days he spent recovering from his exertions. He wasn't the only one being treated, which was a relief, but he was the only one in the hospital who'd made it to SOLDIER Prep.
When he was finally released, Cloud was directed to his new quarters and his new roommates. S.P. candidates were given much smaller rooms, as there tended to be less people in each group. Cloud had made it in with 10 other boys, 11 had passed out of the 60 who applied. They also knew that even though they'd made it into S.P. only one or two of them might make SOLDIER itself. The room could hold 15 people. So there was a few more beds than they strictly needed. Cloud distributed his few belongings into his new, larger possession locker, and nodded to the other boys. Corporal Jenkins had pointed out that they hadn't expected Cloud to be so determined… the rest of the recruits who'd aimed for S.P. had formed a little niche amongst their peers... Cloud had never joined them. In all truth he hadn't been paying much attention, he was so determined to improve his strength he'd spent his every waking moment striving for that goal. So he wasn't surprised when the other Privates eyed him warily.
"Hello, I'm Private Strife, … but you can call me Cloud if you want." There were several grunts and half-hearted introductions around the room. Cloud offered them all a smile and a nod. Young boys were usually shy, and he hadn't really tried to get to know them before so he really couldn't blame them for their reticence. He settled into his bunk, and spent a while mapping out the bottom of the empty bed over him. He'd made it, he was glad to see he could get something done when he really wanted to, the blissful feeling of accomplishment was so startling, he'd forgotten what it felt like. He grinned at himself, it was only going to get harder from here! Now the real trials would begin… Cloud was really looking forward to it!
