I just want to thank all of you for your continued support on this haphazard little tale. It means a lot. Also, I'll try to get the next chapter out quicker than this one.

I was in Hell.

I fell on my cot, exhausted. It had been almost two weeks since I had made my decision, and every day I had done the same grueling exercises. The first day had been the easiest, I was well rested and ready to go. The second day, my bed rest caught up with me, as almost two months worth of rest had thrown my system so far off, it would take almost as long to get me back into peak condition. It also didn't help that both Rood and Sal were easily keeping pace with exercise that had tears roll down my face from exhaustion and agony as my dormant muscles woke from their short slumber. The worst part of all was my chest. While the two had done an exceptional job at patching me up, the wound still ached with every movement, and the more I moved, the worse it became.

Maybe if we didn't work for fourteen hours a day, it wouldn't hurt so much.

The next few weeks passed by, much the same, although I did notice it becoming progressively easier as time went on. After the third week, they decided to add a new exercise: sparring.

If the previous weeks had been Hell, I didn't know what to call this.

I would wake up, go through my daily routine of running, push-ups, running, squats, running, sit-ups, running, weights, running, climbing, running, target practice, running, and finally, when I thought my body was about to give out, we would spar. If I won, I got to skip the next day's training session and rest. If I lost, I had to wear fifty kilos strapped to my back the next day.

I lost a lot.

"Never make the first move!" Sal yelled at me from the sidelines, as Rood knocked me on my back for the third time. I quickly picked myself up, shot Sal the dirtiest look I could manage, and turned back to my opponent. He grinned, took a step back, and took his fighting stance. He looked absolutely rediculous, with his sweat soaked hair hanging in his face, his legs slightly apart and offset, and his hands balled into tight fists, all while still wearing a lab coat.

"What the heck am I supposed to do then?" I grumbled quietly. I watched him carefully, deciding to let him make the first move this time. He obliged, taking a step forward, feinted left, and clocked me on the right side of my head, sending waves of pain throughout my body as stars flew into my vision.

"Don't ever let the enemy make the first move, either!" Sal yelled in the most encouraging voice possible.

I turned to yell at her. "Sal, I am going to kill you if you don't shut up!" Rood took the chance to step inside my guard and land another two blows, one to my stomach and another to my left shoulder. It knocked the wind out of me, a wave of nausea swept through me, and I hit the floor, coughing and wheezing, trying to catch my breath. The small lunch I had managed to inhale earlier made its reappearance as I emptied my stomach involuntarily. When I could finally breathe properly, Rood threw me a towel to clean myself up with.

"Again." He said, in what was probably a friendly tone, but I heard it as sadistic and snide.

"I never pictured you for the slave driver type."

"Would you like Sal to take my place?"

Another wave of nausea made its way through my body as I shivered, remembering the last time me and Sal had sparred.

"I'll take your silence as a no." He offered me his hand, no doubt to pull me up. I dropped the now-soiled towel in his hand and pushed myself to my feet. He gave me a dirty look, and threw the towel behind him, once again adopting his rediculous pose.

Days passed like this, then weeks, and I made steady progress. As I went through what had once been terrible effort and pain with ease, I noticed myself becoming stronger. I began lifting more weight, running harder and for longer periods, and even made some progress in sparring against Rood. I never won, but I managed to get a few hits in here and there. Finally, after almost two months, I managed to lay him on his back, much to his chagrin.

"Absolutely amazing." He muttered, picking himself up off the ground. "You've certainly made progress. Let's call it a day, and enjoy your day off tomorrow. The next day, you'll start sparring with Sal again." He turned around, and gave me a flippant wave over his shoulder.

I stumbled back to my cot, and nearly collapsed as I threw myself into it. Sleep came immediately, but the morning came too soon. As I woke up well past the dawn cycle, I crawled out of bed, full of energy for the first time in weeks. I made my way to the kitchen, where a cold plate of food waited for me. I didn't see the other two, which was unusual. At least, to me.

I threw my plate in the warmer for a few minutes, then pulled it out to find it steaming and ready to be eaten. As I settled down to eat, a loud crash came from down the hallway, towards the lab.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was running down the hallway towards the sound. Another crash came, and another. As I came to a stop just inside the labs door, I saw the source of the noise.

Rood lay on the floor, blood flowing from a wound on his forehead. Sal stood over him, a heavy-looking instrument in her hand, and she turned to face me as I arrived. Her eyes looked wrong, almost dead.

She began to move towards me, bloodstained instrument in hand.

Tell your friends. Or don't. Also, who wants to guess what happens next?

CM out.

P.S. I've been meaning to come up with a real name for SA-00, but it'a hard to find one that fits. Leave me some ideas, if you feel like it. If I use it, I'll be sure to credit you.