How's it going everybody! I'm back with chapter 6!
This took a while for me to write up, so I hope you guys will enjoy it!
Chapter 6
The remaining 12 recruits were temporarily housed in barrack-like rooms, each filled wall-to-wall with bare-looking bunk beds.
"WOO TOP BUNK!"
Rena let out a hoot as she body slammed the furthest bunk to the wall, the force of the impact violently jostling the wobbly frame and shaking bits of plaster from the ceiling.
Paolo sighed miserably as he hobbled after his energetic friend. Miriam and Alfonso had bid them farewell after their collective discharge from the infirmary, being that all recruits were divided up into different groups yet again.
And yet here I am, Paolo thought bemusedly as he watched Rena sprawl across the laughably tiny bunk, limbs dangling every which way.
Not that he wasn't grateful, of course. He still secretly dreaded being separated from the only friend he had in this place.
"Rest well, everyone." A kindly looking man stood in the doorway as the rest of the recruits settled into their new living quarters. "You all have a long day tomorrow with Instructor Brioschi."
"Who is that…?" Paolo mused aloud. This man was the first kind face any of them had seen since arriving on Varia grounds.
A condescending voice called out faintly from the other side of the room.
"Don't you know anything about the Varia at all? That's the vice commander himself, Ottavio!"
"V-vice commander…?"
Paolo gaped and quickly regained himself, turning to his companion.
"Did you hear that, Rena? If that guy was the vice commander, then I guess this place shouldn't be that bad after all…"
A soft snore drifted from the top bunk in response.
Paolo sighed again, a fond smile spreading across his face. He glanced out the cracked glass panes of a small window at the deepening purple of twilight, and was surprised. Time had passed faster than he'd perceived, or was it because time supposedly passed faster when one was having fun..?
He shook his head of these sentimental thoughts, grimacing a bit. Training began tomorrow. He had to mentally prepare himself, or else-
"SHUT THE FUCK UP, YA PRETENTIOUS BASTARD!"
A leather boot hurtled across the room at breakneck speed, nailing Paolo directly in the left temple.
He lost consciousness almost immediately.
Renata Andoloro's eyelids snapped open at 6:15 AM, as they did every single morning.
The youth bolted upright and swung her torso over the edge of the bunk to stare at her sleeping bunkmate. Paolo was curled up like an infant, the covers drawn up underneath his nose.
She grinned.
" buUUOOON GIORNO! "
Outside, a flock of mourning doves lifted off the roof in a fluttering frenzy.
On the other side of the property, Mammon dropped the euros he was counting, and cursed under his breath.
"CHE CAZZO BASTARDO I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
"aCK!"
The shoe-throwing guy from last night lodged his other boot directly into the back of Renata's head. She lost her balance, hitting the floor with an audible thud.
Paolo awoke with what was quite possibly, the worst headache in the history of any medical records on Earth. His ears rang with the intensity of a public high school fire alarm, and his skull had been remodeled into a concert hall made for an orchestra solely composed of construction equipment.
"Uh," he groaned intelligently as the jackhammer began its hour long solo from the back of his head.
From the foot of his bed, Renata lifted her head to display a dazzling grin.
"You're awake!"
.
.
.
Breakfast was something in the likeness of a fever dream, cafeteria-styled eggs over easy whisked off of Paolo's plate almost as quickly as it had been first deposited.
All Varia trainees were subject to the time limit of 15 minutes when it came to the consumption of meals.
"To build character," as announced by Brioschi, to which the shoe-thrower had bitterly translated as "building indigestion."
Renata, on the other hand, did not seem to feel the effects of this time restriction as she vacuumed the entirety of both her plate and Paolo' black-haired youth simply stared blankly as his friend cleaned both the plates and silverware with gusto.
Training was a completely different story.
"Alright shitheads, let me make one thing crystal-fucking-clear here."
Brioschi paced across before the line of 12 trainees, a metal flask (presumably filled with liquor) strapped to his waist.
"Even as ordinary subordinates, all Varia members are only second in skill compared with the main officers."
His tone lowered, and the instructor glowered from person to person. Paolo shrank from the intensity of his scowl.
"I'm going to be absolutely honest here. As you are now, every single one of you fuckers is at least two and a half lifetimes away from getting to that level. You know what that means?"
His eyes were now surgically drilling holes in the front of every skull. Renata continued to grin blankly.
"It means that I'm going to work every last one of you raisin-brained knuckleheads until the skin peels off of your backs, CAPISCE?! "
The group of 12 gave a collective half-shout.
"YES SIR!"
The rest of the day was, surprisingly, limited to games such as hopscotch, capture the flag, and cops & robbers. The only drawback to this was the 20 lb weights attached to the wrists and ankles of each trainee, along with the threat of a "special training menu" for the losing team.
This "special training menu," as discovered by Paolo and Rena, included 50 laps around the entirety of the Varia headquarters, followed by 500 push-ups, 500 sit-ups, and 500 squats. And to wrap it up nicely, the rest of their night was spent standing outside with a bucket of water in each hand.
The best part of it all? The 20 lb weights were not to be removed throughout the duration of their training.
By mid-June, Paolo was literally so sore that he did not feel sore anymore. He could not recall what it felt like to be free from the constant pain that bombarded his senses endlessly. Even Renata, for all her inhuman strength and endurance, was beginning to feel the effects of this hellish regime.
Her teeth clenched hard enough to make her gums bleed as they stood outside the barracks at night, metal buckets hanging from outstretched arms. Her hands quaked just a tiny bit as she shovelled down food during meals.
Nevertheless, every morning Paolo was awakened with the same cheerfully loud voice and smiling face from the bunk above his. He never ceased to marvel at this, though it was a fact that greatly comforted him throughout their daily lives.
However, when questioned, Renata would simply shrug absentmindedly commenting that she had "gone through worse before."
"I've been through a lot of boot camps y'know," she'd grin, "some of 'em are harder than others and this one's just a little harder than the last one, that's all."
Paolo did not want to know what Rena's past boot camps were like, especially if they could compare to the Varia in any way. But nevertheless, he would nod understandingly.
By the end of July, Paolo legitimately did not feel that sore anymore, but this time it was because his body was now accustomed to its daily routine.
He no longer coughed up blood after the 38th lap.
Renata's hands ceased shaking entirely during breakfasts.
They had both mastered the art of sleeping while standing with a bucket of water in each hand.
A few day's time saw Brioschi scanning over his trainees with relative satisfaction. The room quickly silenced as he approached with an announcement.
"Alright. Since you shrimps have made significant progress these past few months, I've decided that all of you are now ready for the flame attribute test."
The barracks stayed soundless, but every inhabitant was aware of the collective mental excitement resounding throughout that shared space.
' Flame attribute?!'
Renata's grin nearly split her face in half as she shot an excited look at Paolo. To her surprise, she found tears glistening in the corners of his eyes.
' I-I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING…' Paolo wept silently, an unspeakable joy vibrating throughout. ' I'm finally going to determine my flame attribute!'
Brioschi continued, indifferent to the excitement circulating amongst the twelve.
"We will spend the entire day mastering flame control. Proceed to the administrative courtyard in 20 minutes."
Turning abruptly, he strode out without a further glance.
As soon as the bearded man was out of earshot, Renata turned to Paolo.
"What's a flame attribute?"
.
.
.
Paolo pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply as he counted to ten inside of his mind whilst reminding himself that along with being dense as a brick shithouse, Renata Andoloro was also a civilian.
He then turned around and began to explain in elementary terms, the concept of a dying will flame.