Chapter 2: Getting The Hang of Things
12 sat patiently at his table, examining the room he was in. It all looked so, grey and militant, nowhere near as vibrant as other New Meccan government facilities. The room looked like it was a classroom of some sort, a whiteboard on the back wall with what appeared to be a teacher's desk to its left. Then there was the bulletproof 12 ft by 8 ft window to its right that allowed for others to examine the other rooms contents. It had weight training equipment, five treadmills, and an octagonal ring that 12 assumed to be the sparing center.
"Well damn, this place looks like happiness central, doesn't it?" another person asked jokingly as he walked into the room. He had fair skin, spikey light brown hair, and bright amber eyes. His New Meccan issued uniform had the number "8" stamped into his upper left torso in that bold industrial font. He was tall at 6'1" and had a light muscular build. 8 flopped onto his designated chair with reckless abandon and sighed.
"This place could use a lot more color." 8 observed as he looked at the grey walls, only decorated by maps of the different kingdoms and continents.
He turned to 12 and flashed a smile, "Sup blondie, names 8 now I guess, how you been?"
12 stared back at the boy trying to make friends blankly. He stayed silent for roughly a minute and then deadpanned, "Does it matter how've I been really? Or are you trying to make small talk?"
8 chuckled nervously, "U-uh, why can't it be both?" he said with a small smile.
12 continued to stare at him in silence, then turned to face the whiteboard on the back wall.
8 frowned a bit at this and shrugged, murmuring to himself, "Guess not everyones the friendly type here."
Within minutes of 8's arrival in this "classroom", roughly 22 more participants of the program filed in, finding their seats and looking around at the others in their close fitting uniforms, taking notes of each other's number and technically new name.
"So uh, other than us being soulless, anyone knows why we got picked up for this program?" Someone numbered as 21 asked.
"W-well maybe it has s-something to do with t-the psyche test we took? O-or how we did good in the o-other programs?" A girl answered back shyly. She had short and scruffy brown hair with brown full-rimmed glasses on her face, slightly zooming in on her dull yet beautiful emerald eyes. Her skin appeared to be lightly tan, with freckles all over, and she had quite a petite figure. She was designated the number of 5, as seen on her uniform.
"No, it's because no one would miss a couple of soulless fucks from New Mecca if we died." Another replied nihilistically, her dull blue eyes piercing 5's. The girl who said this looked as if she was a complete elite, jet black hair pulled into a ponytail, pale white skin, posture that could rival Atlas nobels, and a killer look in her eyes. The black industrial font on her uniform showed that she was 2, and 2 looked like she could, and would, dominate whatever goal that was in front of her.
"Ay cabrón, cálmate por favor, no need to fuck with our heads before anything even starts." Shot back a girl with a scowl. Her skin was a warm tawny brown; her eyes appeared to be crimson rubies shining in the light; her hair a gray, ash like, color that matched well with the two grey wolf-like ears that stuck out atop her head and the gray wolf tail that stuck out behind her chair. Her uniform brandishing the number 13.
8 chimed in, "Yeah, Wolfie's right ya know. I'd rather not experience toooo much negativity before the program starts. Grimm are attracted to that shit ya know?"
"A Grimm hasn't stepped foot into New Mecca in 15 years, dumbass. I doubt a little honesty would cause a beowulf or an Ursa to come waltz right through our defenses." She retorted with a fierce glare.
"Someone obviously didn't catch Ex vs X - Sakura reDUX 2, on TV last night." 8 joked back with a laugh.
"Awww, I missed it? No way!" 5 jumped in with a whine and frown, covering her face via slipping her hands under her glasses in shame.
2, in response, rolled her eyes in disgust at their childish nature.
Then, silence fell as the main door quickly opened, the two sides sliding into the walls, and in stepped a man with fair, white, skin, thick black hair pulled up into a samurai top knot, dull dark brown eyes, wearing a black kimono gilded with a gold color at his cuffs and the hem, tied to his body by a white sash around his waist. The kimono exposed his left shoulder and appeared to be a part of the style. His feet, donning his geta, making a clacking noise every time he took a step. Strapped to his hip was a sheathed katana, and telling by how he clutched the hilt of his blade, the thing wasn't just for show.
All eyes were on the 5'10" man, heads turning slightly as they followed his movements, halting as soon as he arrived at the "teacher's" desk and whiteboard.
"Gods, can't believe they have me fuckin doin this." He grumbled to himself as he slowly shuffled and turned around to face everyone in the room.
"Hello, I'm Zero, your uh, instructor." He said awkwardly, fiddling with his blade at his side.
"I'm here to train you to be the best uh, fighters you can be. You work for us now." Zero straightened his posture when he said the last bit, scanning over everyone in the grey room.
"You are now the important property of New Mecca, housed under its new Element Program. You will be trained to hone your abilities AND to house them. Your dexterity, strength, intelligence, ingenuity, and perception will be tested harshly. Your will will be broken and rebuilt, just to be broken and rebuilt again. Cadets, I welcome you to the Element Program," he gritted his teeth and then said, "Hoorah." distantly and bitterly.
This, surprisingly, didn't shake any of the new Cadets. Many just looked at each other with a new resolve, a new sense of purpose. They clipped into this mess and none of them wanted to get out. Well, except for 5, she looked like she was having a full blown panic attack.
"This room is where all of you will meet at 0800 hours sharp every morning, 1200 hours sharp every afternoon, and every 2000 hours sharp every evening for training, lessons, and briefing on your next steps. When you are not here, in this room, you will either been in the barracks or somewhere else in this damned fuckin facility. Just don't be an idiot and try anything stupid." He paused for a quick breath and then quickly said, "Also, no leaving this facility. New Mecca doesn't want it's new property running amok."
With that, Zero sat down in his rolling chair and rolled behind the desk, opening a filing cabinet filled with papers, pens, pencils, and one clipboard. As he was fishing through his desk, he heard a voice pipe up.
"Zero sir, how would we spell your name? Is it Zero as in 'Z. E. R. O.' or like the number zero?" A random cadet asked."
Zero seemingly facepalmed and deadpanned, "Z-E-R-O, fuckin hell you gotta be kiddin me."
8 snickered at his response and looked to 12, "Oh this is gonna be a fun ride."
- 2 hours later -
"Holy... shit, this is... not... a fun fuckin ride." 8 said as he was bench pressing 150 pounds. His arms buckling with every rep taken, sweat dripping profusely from his face as he counted 25 reps. After finishing, he re-racked his weights and his arms felt like they were floating in space.
"Huff…fuck me man." he groaned as he sat up slugishly.
Zero shot him a glaring look and said, "8, how are you supposed to be a top of the line fighter if you're getting exhausted by some measly weights? Get your ass up and run me three miles!"
"B-but sir!" 8 whined in response.
"Talk back to me again and I swear on the Gods' names I'll make it twelve." he barked back.
"Ugh, fine." 8 relented as he stood up and grabbed a bottle of water. He walked to a side door in the training area that led to a mile long track. "Just three of these… Whew, I got this, I got this."
As 8 began his run, Zero turned to see his other Cadets training. 12 was occupying the treadmill, as stoic as ever. 2 was whooping someone's ass in the sparring octagon, damn she could throw a mean uppercut. 5 was trying her absolute hardest to deadlift 80 pounds but failing horribly to do so. 13 was alternating from sit ups, push ups, and pull ups, her tail wagging quickly with excitement. Zero saw a lot of potential in this group of 22 students.
A lot of potential for success, and a lot of potential for failure.
Zero sat on a spare fold-out chair and fiddled with his Walkman he bought. He put in his ear buds, pushed play, and kicked back to the disgusting smell of teenage B.O.
Roughly 27 minutes later, an exhausted 8 opened the door leading to the track, walked inside the training room, and flopped onto one of the cushioned mats on the floor. He looked completely drained, for lack of any better words.
12 hopped off his treadmill, legs and calves aching like hell, but with a blank facial expression, as always. He stepped over 8 to grab a cup of water from the water cooler, his exhaustion almost reaching him and his thirst overbearingly strong.
13, alongside 5, decided to take a rest and the two girls were seemingly wrapped in a conversation with one another.
Many of the other cadets seemed to be completely assed out, many panting horribly and leaning against the work out equipment. By this time, Zero's ninth track ended and he promptly pushed stop on his Walkman. Pulling out his earbuds, he stood up to examine his cadets.
"Good job I guess. It's lunch time, get your asses to your barracks and then go to the mess hall if you want, I'll be in the homeroom if you need me. Uh, class is dismissed."
With that, many of the cadets hobbled out of the training room, through the homeroom, and into the hallway opened via the automatic sliding doors.
As 8 walked by, panting heavily, he looked at Zero and asked, "Classroom dismissed? What is this, Beacon? You training us to be huntsmen sir?" He said all of this with a joking, yet exhausted, smile.
Zero chuckled a bit and said, "In a way I guess, but nah kid. I don't think I'm training you to kill grimm."
"Then what are you training us to kill?" 5 interjected with a quizzical look.
Zero turned to face her, his face turning grim after what she asked. Before he got a chance to open his mouth, 2 walked past 5 and shoulder checked her, spitting out venomously, "People you fuckin idiot."
5 frowned deeply at her response and looked at Zero, his face not providing her any solace. She then looked at 8 and he just shrugged in response. Hanging her head, she walked past Zero so she could go to the barracks.
"Well, that got awkward and angsty. Imma go grab a bite to eat then nap for two hours." 8 said as he casually left the room.
Moments after. The remaining cadets did the same, leaving Zero alone in the training room. He sighed and went to the ever empty homeroom and sat at his desk. Pondering why the Hell he even took this job. Life was so simple back then, just kill the target, get your medicine, go home, and sleep. Now he's stuck training and teaching a whole bunch of soulless teens, some knowing why they're here, others oblivious to whatever the fuck is going on. It was going to be really frustrating, he could tell.
"Well, this facility sure as Hell beats my last apartment." He muttered to himself while fiddling with his Walkman. This new life was going to take some getting used to.
He opened another filing cabinet, retrieving a couple of dossiers on his cadets. His curiosity was sparked, the diversity of his cadets intrigued him, and he wanted to know more about their background. About their pasts.
Dossier in hand, feet on his desk, and Walkman playing some funky tunes, Zero opened the folder and delved into the past.
