Lucky was awake again bright and early, with no more bad dreams to plague him through the night. After Miss Minutes' daily wake up call, he carefully placed the mind stone in his pocket, keeping it wrapped around a piece of tissue so it wouldn't touch his skin.
He had to make absolutely sure he could frame Sarge and get away with it without any consequences. He couldn't take any more chances. This had to go right.
Not to mention he had to get rid of that stone before it made him even sicker.
He met up with everyone else from BQ6 in the terminal, patiently, tiredly waiting for their elevators, like they had every day. Sarge was near the back of the room, alone, and D-132 paid him absolutely no attention whatsoever. He'd finally stopped trying to talk to her. Lucky smirked. Perhaps the pathetic idiot had taken the hint, after more than a week of being an obnoxious lout. Lucky made sure to follow him into the next elevator along with a few other classmates. There was one TVA employee already on the elevator when it opened, an analyst going to another floor, who moved quietly to the corner of the elevator as the trainees came aboard. Slowly, Lucky snuck up behind Sarge, trying not to draw any attention to himself whatsoever, just close enough to slip the little stone into his pocket-
"Hey," said Six, right next to him, giving him a start.
He'd been so focused on Sarge that he hadn't seen Six come in the elevator and take her place next to him.
"Oh, uh, hey," he answered curtly.
"Did you sleep okay?"
"Sure," he lied. Sarge hadn't turned around, but Lucky could tell by his body language that he despised being too close to Lucky and Six, especially when they were together.
Six's finger brushed the back of his free hand, his other hand poised in his pocket to take out the stone and deposit it. Any other moment, any other time… why did she have to be affectionate now?
"I regret not coming by your room last night," she said, with the smallest flirtatious grin. "I was lonelier than I expected. I could have used your company."
Sarge raised his shoulders, no doubt hearing what Six said, as if he'd felt a spider crawling up his back, and moved to the back of the elevator just as the walls opened up to show the scenery of the TVA. Lucky would need to sneak up on him all over again just to get close enough, and with all the other classmates milling around near the windows, it was going to be even harder to do it unseen.
"That's nice, Six," he grumbled. Literally any other time at all…
Despite her silent, tantalizing invitation, her pinky ever so gently curling around his, Lucky had to break away. The analyst seemed to be settling in behind Sarge, and pushing them out of the way just to get to him wouldn't be an option.
He once again moved to take his place closer to his target. Six's smile fell from her face, but he only had a few more precious seconds that he absolutely couldn't waste.
"We're not fighting again, right?" she asked, taking another step towards him… and Sarge. Damn it, if Sarge moved again, this wasn't going to work!
"No," he answered, losing his patience. "Of course not."
Lucky gingerly grabbed hold of the stone covered in paper. It was so hot he thought it might catch the tissue on fire.
"Then why are you being so weird?"
"I'm not being weird," he muttered.
"You are, too."
He took his hand out his pocket, holding the stone tightly in his grip. Too tightly. The tissue ripped in his hand, his palm touched the bare stone. Before he could do anything, that familiar, comforting, mind-strangling feeling washed over him again.
It could feel his heartbeat, like a doting lover smothering him in his sleep, like a gentle parasite that had burrowed deep inside him and taken residence in his very being. They'd known each other in another life, before time itself had begun. The knowledge, desperate to reach him, was literally burning a hole in his hand…
"What's that?"
Lucky gasped when Six spoke, squeezing the stone out of the ripped tissue paper. It fell to the floor with the tiniest 'clink', bounced once, then came to a rest next to Sarge's left foot.
"Is that a-"
Lucky silently, firmly grabbed Six's hand in order to stun her into silence. To his relief and amazement, Sarge noticed the infinity stone, bent down, and picked it up.
"Neat," he said, smiling as he examined the glowing yellow stone.
Six tugged her hand away from Lucky's grip and glowered at Sarge.
"That's not yours, Sarge."
Lucky bit his tongue in order not to scream.
Sarge scoffed at her and shrugged, polishing the dirt off of his new treasure. "I don't care. It's mine now. What are you gonna do about it?"
She replied haughtily, "I'll go to Miss-"
"Six, come here!" Lucky hissed. He pushed her to the front of the elevator while Sarge looked on, ginger brow furrowed in confusion and mild disgust.
"But-"
"Shh!" Lucky turned her around, trying his best to hide them both from prying eyes.
"Just don't say anything, for once!"
"Don't you want it ba-"
"It's not mine! It belongs to that guy!" Lucky lied, then jerked his head at the analyst, who seemed only vaguely aware of anything that had just transpired. "Just be quiet."
Six's mouth hung open slightly and she squinted as she tried to piece everything together. There was no way she could, though… she wasn't that gifted. Thankfully, the elevator ride was nearly over, and Sarge had done precisely what Lucky'd needed-albeit in a roundabout way-and didn't seem any the wiser. He quickly lost interest in Six and Lucky, casually stuffing the mind stone in his pocket. Sarge definitely didn't seem bothered by the stone touching his bare skin. Lucky wondered if it even felt warm to him at all.
The elevator doors opened, and everyone left into the busy foyer, Lucky and Six taking their sweet time and letting everyone else go first.
Six threw a suspicious glance his way and muttered under her breath, "I don't like whatever this is."
"Please trust me," he whispered back. "Literally all you have to do is not say a word about it."
With an indignant "hmmph," and a roll of her eyes, she walked past him through the crowd, taking her usual spot against the wall.
Lucky grunted. Well, at least she wasn't going to go straight to Miss Minutes, it seemed. Goody two-shoes.
"Good morning, trainees!" Miss Minutes' voice called out over the speakers, to which the class responded automatically. "Today's class is gonna be a little different. All we've done so far is exercise your brains, but today, we're gonna be exercising your bodies, too!"
The class murmured to each other, unsure what in the world she was talking about.
"Today's class is going to be your physical examination! Now, don't be nervous, y'all weren't supposed to have studied for it. Y'all are just going to have some super fun physical challenges! It's very important that guards, hunters, and agents all be fit enough to handle their jobs. They need to be in at least the top thirty percent of the class in regards to physical performance."
Lucky gave Six a smirk across the room. He could smoke everyone there, no problem. He wondered if she'd mentioned the agent position especially for them.
"Now, everybody, come inside, but leave your books behind on your desks. We won't need 'em, today."
The doors opened and the class did as Miss Minutes instructed, more confused than ever. How were they supposed to do anything physical in the narrow little aisles of the classroom?
Another pair of doors in the front of the room opened, ones that had been closed since the beginning of classes, and that everyone, including Lucky, had forgotten about. Buzzing excitedly, the class went downstairs and filed through.
On the other side, much like the elevator terminal to the recreation floor, was a perpendicular hallway. To the left hung a sign that said, 'Women,' and to the right, 'Men,' with arrows pointing in opposite directions to separate doors.
Miss Minutes appeared, floating in the liminal space, and addressed everyone again.
"Y'all's lockers are assigned to you, just like your desks. You already have a pair of gym clothes inside. Get dressed, then everyone will meet in the gymnasium on the other side of the locker room when you're done."
Without clarifying what in the world a 'gymnasium' or a 'locker' was, she blinked out of existence. Unsurely, the women and men separated, filing through their respective doors. Lucky caught one last look at Six before the swinging door swallowed her into the womens' room. God, if he was only allowed to watch her change clothes once, he could die happy.
Inside the men's room were yet more unpainted concrete floors and windowless walls lined with narrow, metal cabinets-he assumed those were the 'lockers'-and fluorescent lighting that flickered on at their movement. Wooden benches stuck out awkwardly from the floor. It smelled wet and dank and mildewy, like it hadn't been used since the last class had their physicals. The warm dew stuck to Lucky's skin, like sweat that formed from the atmosphere instead of from him. Off to the side was an open shower, with about two dozen shower heads, dripping ever so slightly, the once-white tile inside now discolored and yellow.
What was missing from the room, though, was any semblance of privacy.
"Does… does anyone know where we're supposed to change?" asked one of Lucky's classmates. The rest of the men responded with dead silence.
Everyone quietly found their lockers. Lucky's and Sarge's lockers, just like their desks, were right next to each other, to their mutual disgust. Inside of each locker was a neatly folded gym outfit: an orange cotton tee shirt with the TVA logo emblazoned on it, a pair of airy, brown shorts, new socks, tight fitting underwear, and white sneakers.
The men dithered around, examining their new clothes and looking at each other, waiting for someone to make the first move. No one dared. There had to be a mistake. There had to be separate rooms for each of them somewhere… right?
Suddenly, Miss Minutes appeared hovering above them again, scaring the wits out of everyone.
"Come on now, y'all! Let's get a move on! The girls are already half changed!"
The men simply stared at her, and at each other, stupefied. No one wanted to be the guy who had to ask.
Miss Minutes landed on top of a locker, annoyed, hands on her hips.
"What seems to be the issue, here?"
The trainee who'd first made the uncomfortable observation piped up again, taking one for the team.
"Where do we change, Miss Minutes?"
"Why, right here!"
"In... front of each other?"
She rolled her big, cartoon eyes. "Goodness. Y'all were made with nothin' on in your pods. There's nothin' to be ashamed of. Now shake a leg!"
Just like that, she was gone again.
Slowly, each of the trainees started to take off their clothes, shielding themselves as best they could with the doors of their tiny lockers. It didn't help much. Everyone no doubt wondered how alike they really were. No one said a word for the first minute or so, until everyone was undressed, standing around, embarrassed. Lucky couldn't help but notice that everyone was a little bit different… and some were much, much more different than others.
Then, suddenly, another student piped up.
"Hey… so does anyone else have these dreams where your-thingy-is hard, when you wake up?"
Surprisingly, every man in the class, instead of making fun of him or staying perfectly silent, agreed with him.
"Do your dreams have women in them?"
Nearly everyone grunted, or laughed awkwardly, but agreed wholeheartedly, smiles breaking out on their faces, the whole place breaking into chatter at once.
"I definitely do."
"Me too. Sometimes more than one."
"I have a man in mine."
"Wait, really? Who is it?"
"I don't know. It's none of you, though."
"Did we ever learn what our thingies are called?"
"No, I don't think so."
"So what do women have? They have more than one hole, right?"
"Uh yeah, duh. They need one to pee out of, too."
The tension in the room, that had been tighter than a rubber band about to snap, had seemed to melt away along with their modesty. The class continued to talk unabashedly about their bodies and dreams as they dressed in their gym outfits, an odd sense of innocent camaraderie forming between them all. Even Sarge didn't seem quite as insufferable. That is, until he opened his mouth again.
"I can't be the only one who dreams about D-132, right?" he asked his classmates. "I mean, she's got these big… big…" he held out his hands cupped in front of him, not knowing the word for the things he was so obsessed with.
The rest of the trainees gave him an uncomfortable look and didn't answer.
"Yeah, she does," one trainee timidly agreed. "But like, you won't leave her alone."
Lucky let out a single, self satisfied snort. So, it wasn't just him. Everyone knew how big of a creep Sarge was.
Sarge sneered at him and closed his locker, both of them now dressed in their gym clothes.
"You got a problem?" Sarge muttered. Their conversation was confidential, the rest of the trainees still chattering amongst themselves.
"Apparently, everyone has a problem," Lucky answered, returning his sneer.
"Yeah… well, everyone knows you and Six are a thing, too."
"You really can't tell the difference?" Lucky scoffed, bending down to tie his shoes. "Six wants to be a thing. D-132 won't even talk to you anymore."
"I wonder if Miss Minutes noticed how close you and Six are."
Lucky felt a stab of ice through his stomach, but kept his expression as blank as he could.
"I bet she doesn't know a lot of things about you two," Sarge continued, his smirk turning into a threat.
"You're not that stupid, Sarge. You'd get in trouble too."
The smirk fell from Sarge's face as he stared down at Lucky. "I've already gotten in trouble."
Lucky shot upright, his shoelaces forgotten. "For what?! You didn't tell her already-"
"It's none of your business!" Sarge rasped. "I'm not getting any more demerits. You deserve one more than I do."
Lucky's mind raced. What in the world could Sarge have done already to get a demerit? It wasn't the fight in the cafeteria-Lucky hadn't gotten a demerit for that, so neither had Sarge. And if he hadn't told anyone about fight night, yet…
Lucky puffed out his chest. "You're just a stupid, jealous-"
Suddenly, one of their classmates, a man who hadn't said anything until just then, asked, "Does anyone else sometimes have those kinds of dreams about Miss Minutes?"
The entire class went dead silent immediately. Everyone stared at the poor guy as the terrible realization of what he'd just said seemed to dawn on him. The only sound in the room was the steady drip from the showerheads.
The trainee opened his mouth and stammered. "M-me neither. Never mind."
The awkward tension that had plagued the atmosphere came back, just as strong as it was before they'd taken off their clothes.
Miss Minutes appeared once again, tapping her foot impatiently in midair.
"What in tarnation is taking you boys so long?" she asked. "The girls are already out in the gym."
The men stared at each other, shrugged, and mumbled a half-hearted chorus of, "Sorry, Miss Minutes."
One of the trainees, next to the unfortunate man who'd just let everyone in on his nocturnal secret, leaned over and whispered to him, "Someone misses you."
That triggered a muffled explosion of sniggering from everyone. The man hung his head low, already starting to blush in horrified embarrassment.
"Is there something you'd like to tell the class, M-191?" asked Miss Minutes to the guy who'd whispered. The smile fell quickly from his face and he shook his head.
"N-no Miss Minutes."
"Good. Come along, y'all, or we'll run out of class time."
They followed Miss Minutes as she floated through a door at the far end of the room, each of them giving a wry glance at the mortified trainee as he turned bright red.
On the other side of the door was a room unlike anything the hatchlings had ever seen. It was even bigger than the classroom, but just an enormous oval, without any theater seating. The room was filled with a seemingly random assortment of stuff; ropes to climb, walls to crawl, hurdles to leap over, literal hoops to jump through, wires he assumed they'd have to wriggle under. Whatever they were supposed to do that day actually did look like fun, to Lucky. The floor, instead of concrete, was made of thin planks of varnished wood, with the TVA's stylized logo printed right in the middle in muted orange, the letters outlined in brown. Arrows on the floor pointed from one obstacle to the other, ending in a steeply slanting climbing wall. The trainee's new sneakers squeaked as they milled about, meeting up with the women again, who were dressed in clothing identical to theirs. Six's loose gym outfit seemed to swallow her whole, her skinny shoulders poking sharply under her shirt, long legs engulfed in shorts that came halfway down her thighs.
Miss Minutes grew as she came to the front of the crowd, until she was person sized when she settled to the floor.
"Eyes to the front, everyone! Now, give yourselves a couple feet of room between y'all. We're gonna start with some stretches, so just follow everything I do…"
The trainees followed her command, mimicking her as she stretched her arms and legs. It felt good to be out of a seat, for once. He couldn't help glance a peek at Six next to him as they bent over to touch their toes. There wasn't much there to speak of, but he still liked seeing her stick her butt straight into the air. From the quick, sidelong glimpse she gave him, she seemed to enjoy the same.
Some trainees were keeping up with Miss Minutes better than others. A few of them couldn't even touch their toes. With everyone dressed in less formal clothing, it was easier to see his classmates' varying shapes and sizes, too. The question that Six had asked the agents in the cafeteria, though it seemed humiliating, then, once again came to the front of his mind. Why were they all made so differently? He hadn't seen two people that looked the same since he'd been hatched. Jet's answer, that it was so they could tell each other apart, didn't seem to make sense anymore, like he'd just answered to satisfy Six, and not because he knew.
Well, the Timekeeper designed everything in his infinite wisdom, supposedly… or he just didn't care how they turned out, as long as they were useful to him in some way.
They finished their stretches, then Miss Minutes led them to the side of the room, where lines were painted around the edge of the oval in concentric rings.
"Now y'all are gonna take three laps around the gym, to get your hearts pumpin'. Remember, it's just a jog, not a race, so don't worry about finishin' first. Everybody ready?"
The class quickly crowded together within the painted lines, some itching with excitement, others looking more tired than when they'd just woken up. Six nudged him with her elbow and gave him a grin; he knew without words that it was an invitation to race, no matter what Miss Minutes had just said.
"Three… two… one… " Miss Minutes materialized a whistle out of thin air and blew it as hard as she could.
The class took off at the whistle, Six and Lucky bounding away and breaking off from the crowd immediately. They didn't even have to race. It felt easy to keep ahead of everyone else, as if their classmates weren't even trying. Lucky jogged evenly alongside Six. Neither of them breathed too heavily, though she looked like she was going as fast as her legs could carry her.
"No sweat," she said. "Having trouble, Lucky?"
He chortled at her, then pushed himself, using the advantage of his longer legs to effortlessly glide ahead of her.
"Hey!" she cried out behind him, "No fair!"
"It's perfectly fair!"
Miss Minute's voice called out from the beginning of the track. "Remember L-7, L-63, it's not a race! Save all that energy for the obstacle course!"
He heard Six grumble, her footfalls going slower and fainter as she fell in line with the rest of the pack. Lucky, however, didn't intend on slowing down for anyone. He had energy to spare. It only took a few more moments until he rounded the corner before everyone else did. From there, he could see Six and the rest of his class, some of them doing just fine, and others truly struggling. Sarge closed in just behind Six, closer than Lucky was comfortable with, though everyone jogging around them wouldn't have noticed.
He gasped as he realized what Sarge meant to do, but before he could cry out to warn her, it was too late. It all happened in an instant. Sarge aimed his foot to step on her untied shoelace, which sent her flying to the floor face first. If it hadn't happened to Six, it would have struck him as comical. The moment Six lifted her head with blood on her lip, Lucky saw red, too. The whole class skidded to a stop, some gasping, others laughing awkwardly, everyone crowding around the scene.
Lucky barged across the gym floor, shaking with fury, prepared to turn Sarge's head into a pile of pulp, until he heard Six groan. He went to her instead, helping her to her feet. She held one hand against her busted lip and leaned into him for support.
"What happened?" cried Miss Minutes, appearing in the middle of all the hubbub.
"Sarge tripped her!" Lucky shouted, pointing at Sarge, who looked more surprised than satisfied with his horrible prank. "I saw him, Miss Minutes! He stepped on her shoelace."
"Is that true, S-10?"
"It was an accident, I swear!" he retorted, shrugging helplessly. "I got too close to her and it just… happened."
"Liar!"
Lucky felt his blood boil. Sarge was feigning innocence, he knew it. There was no way it was an accident, no matter how blameless Sarge was attempting to look.
Miss Minutes put herself in between the two men, even though they could see each other through her transparent body, and addressed Six.
"L-63! I'd better call a medic for that cut, honey. It doesn't look too good."
Lucky piped up before Six could. "But she has to do the physical challenges or she can't-"
"Don't worry about that," Miss Minutes interrupted. "She can make it up another day. This is an extenuating circumstance. All I have to do is compare her finish time to the rest of the class."
"But-"
"L-7…"
Lucky sighed helplessly and looked to Six, still bleeding all over her new gym clothes. Her lip was beginning to swell like a little balloon. She didn't put up a fight over it… she was probably still too stunned.
"A medic will be here in a couple of minutes," Miss Minutes told her, then turned her attention to the men. "Now, L-7, S-10-"
"It was an accident!" Sarge repeated.
"L-7 seems to think it wasn't," she said, looking between the two of them. Lucky smirked to himself. Apparently, however Sarge had gotten in trouble before was enough to make Miss Minutes suspicious of him. Perhaps that would play into his favor.
"On the other hand," she continued, "you two haven't always gotten along like professional TVA employees should, have you?"
His smirk fell. So she did know about the cafeteria fight, she just hadn't said anything about it. Or perhaps she could tell by how they scowled at each other every single day.
"I absolutely, positively saw him come up right behind Six and step on her shoelaces on purpose," said Lucky, with a definitive nod.
"And how could you tell it was on purpose?"
Lucky opened his mouth, paused, and closed it again. He racked his brain momentarily, and came up with nothing. There was no way to prove it wasn't an accident. Bastard. He'd committed the perfect crime. He glowered at Sarge, who still looked as innocent as the day he was hatched.
"S-10," said Miss Minutes sternly, "I want you to apologize to L-63 this instant."
Sarge took a step toward L-63, and in a disgustingly believable tone, said, "I'm really sorry, L-63. I didn't mean to trip you, I swear. Do you forgive me?"
Six looked like she wanted to flay Sarge alive right there in the gym, even more than Lucky did. Instead she only stared at him in silence.
"L-63…" said Miss Minutes impatiently.
"Fine," she grumbled. "Whatever. I guess."
"Good. Now why don't you go to the women's locker room, hun? There'll be a medic there in a minute to treat that cut. Go on."
Six did as she was told, with her hand still at her bleeding lip, hanging her head low. Lucky wished he could go with her and forget about the physical challenges. He didn't want to do any of it without her.
"Come on, y'all," said Miss Minutes, her tone turning weary as she waved everyone away, "let's finish those laps. And be careful! Watch your surroundings, give each other room. Tie your shoelaces, F-76!" She pointed to a woman in the class, who hurriedly bent down and did so.
Once Miss Minutes was gone, the innocence on Sarge's face melted away and turned back into its usual menacing smirk. Lucky, his anger boiling up again, leaned in close so that no one else would hear.
"I knew that was on purpose, you pile of garbage."
Sarge lifted his chin, attempting to look down on him in disdain, even though they were roughly the same height.
"You can't prove shit," he whispered. "I think it's fair. Payback for… you know what."
"No, payback would be you fighting like a man, for once, instead of a coward."
Sarge scoffed at him, rolled his eyes, and turned around nonchalantly, as if none of what he'd done mattered to him. It took every ounce of Lucky's admittedly weak moral fiber not to clock him right there in the gym. His original plot to frame him felt too good for him. Hell, blowing him up with explosives felt too good for him. All Lucky could do without getting in trouble, himself, was turn the tables back around on Sarge. A twitch of a smile formed at his lip. Accidents happen, after all.
After they'd finished their three laps, the class gathered into a large huddle once again, waiting patiently for their teacher. She appeared at the top of the highest structure in the gym, a climbing wall three times their height.
"Listen up, y'all!" she said, gesturing all around her. "This here is called an obstacle course. It's like a race, filled with things to slow you down and trip you up. It might not seem fair, but you could run into anything out there on the timeline!"
A low groan of machinery starting itself echoed throughout the gym. The trainees muttered with excitement as the obstacles suddenly began to move. The ropes slowly swung back and forth above a pit of sand that opened up in the floor. The hurdles started to slide up and down rhythmically. Huge bags swung across a gauntlet, which Lucky assumed they were supposed to dodge. Little pattering sounds came from the wires to crawl under, where a grate on the wall sprayed a splatter of paintballs that would get all over anyone who attempted to go over them, instead. The hoops on the floor moved slowly in an indeterminate pattern, like bubbles moving against each other. The only thing that stayed stationary was the climbing wall at the end of the course, several ropes hanging down over the side to help them scale the steep angle.
"The goal is to follow the arrows on the floor and move through the course just as fast as you can! Seems simple, right?"
Most of the trainees looked like they would have rather stayed in the classroom, while a select few-Lucky included-were more ready than ever. Lucky knew at the very least he could outrun Sarge, but beating his time wasn't going to be nearly enough. He was going to pay for what he'd done.
Miss Minutes gathered everyone to the beginning of the course.
"Y'all will take off in groups of about ten or so," she continued. "It'll be a little chaotic, but don't worry, I'll be internally keeping tabs on every single person's start and end times. Everyone, form neat lines! That's it…"
As Miss Minutes herded them around like sheep, Lucky made sure to put himself in the same line as Sarge, at the very back. Sarge noticed, but didn't seem disturbed in the least, the look on his face more smug than ever.
"All right, group one! Three… two… one… go!" Miss Minutes ushered the first line forward. They rushed to the swinging ropes. About half of them didn't make it on the first try, flinging themselves into the sand pit, but eventually everyone made it across, gracefully or not.
Miss Minutes urged each group to start about twenty seconds behind the last one, the lines slowly moving forward until Sarge and Lucky's line were next.
"Three… two… one… let's go!" she cried, and Lucky and Sarge shot out ahead. They both cleared the swinging ropes with ease, to Lucky's surprise. Sarge was more athletic than he imagined, though he looked rather silly with his long, gangly limbs going like a flailing spider monkey. Lucky could outrun him without any obstacles, but the hindrances put in place made them more evenly matched. While dodging and jumping the hurdles, Sarge was very close to keeping up with him, only a hair's width behind.
Lucky snarled and pushed himself harder. His focus went from finding a way to hurt Sarge to keeping himself ahead. There was no way in hell he could let Sarge beat him. He'd rather die.
As they started the gauntlet of swinging bags, Lucky took a quick peek behind him to see if Sarge had fallen behind… a fatal mistake. A bag smacked him squarely in the abdomen with a surprising amount of force, knocking him down, splaying him flat on the floor.
Sarge burst into laughter as he hopped over Lucky's legs and weaved through the gauntlet. Lucky popped his head up, gasping as his breath came back to him. With a wordless, guttural shout, he flung himself forward, dodging the bags with almost superhuman agility, surprising even himself. Still, it wasn't enough. Sarge had a solid lead on Lucky, and looked sure to finish first unless Lucky did something drastic.
He saw his opening at the end of the line of swinging bags. Sarge knelt down to wriggle under the wires on his belly. Lucky, on the other hand, took a flying dive, sliding on his stomach and jettisoning himself under the wires. His feet barely touched the ground as he scraped the floor, then popped up on the other side of the wires in record time. Sarge was still only halfway through, wriggling desperately, like a worm.
Gaining his lead back, Lucky rushed to the next leg of the course, the hoops on the floor, moving in random patterns. The stragglers of one of the groups ahead of his struggled through them, falling over themselves. He hopped through them nimbly, though he nearly fell once or twice, himself, not knowing which direction the hoops would turn next.
After that came the climbing wall: the home stretch. On the other side, dozens of sweaty trainees milled about, panting and talking excitedly amongst themselves, comparing times, wondering who would make the cut to become a hunter or a guard. Now was his last chance to take his revenge on Sarge, if he could do it at all. His mind raced faster than his body as he examined the wall for something, anything he could use. Time was running short; Sarge was beginning to make his way through the moving hoops. Suddenly, an idea came to him, one that would only work if he could allow Sarge to close in.
He did so, grabbing onto a rope and pretending to struggle as he climbed. Sarge, predictably, took a rope next to him, no doubt eager to show off, and started to scramble up the wall, his armpits dark with sweat. With a burst of energy, Lucky climbed just a hair faster than Sarge until he was at the very top of the wall, with Sarge quickly closing in.
In less than two seconds, Lucky's plan was already underway. The very top of the ropes were secured by a single metal link attached to the wall and crimped to the end of each rope. He pretended to grab the edge of the wall, but instead grabbed onto the metal part holding Sarge's rope. Using his unusual strength, he twisted the link against itself, making the metal creak and bend, then finally break. It held out for a moment, straining, then snapped completely. Lucky watched from the edge of his vision as Sarge scrambled for a grip, then screamed, falling nearly twenty feet to the floor. The loud 'thud' he made when he landed on the thin mat below was music to Lucky's ears. So was the cacophony of trainees that gathered around in a small mob, shrieking and yelling as they realized what had happened.
From Lucky's victorious perch at the top of the wall, he looked down haughtily on the scene below, a secret grin forming on his lips. It started to slide off his face as he watched. Sarge wasn't really moving. His eyes were wide open, though. Had… had he killed him? He wouldn't shed a tear for him if he had… but it certainly wouldn't look good on his record, whether it was ruled an accident or not.
"Oh my goodness!"
Miss Minutes had appeared again, her cartoon eyes wide, and genuinely frightened. The trainees, for the first time, didn't seem to regard her presence at all, too distracted by the man on the floor staring up at the ceiling with empty eyes. They even stepped through her transparent body to get a better look.
"Everyone stand back!" she cried. "Give him room!" After a few moments the panicked trainees finally complied. A second later and the same medic who had been helping Six rushed out of the women's locker room, a baffled Six following behind her.
Lucky made his way down the ropes, anxiety building deep inside of him. He didn't think Sarge would be stupid enough to hit his head so hard that he… no, he wasn't dead. Lucky caught a glimpse of Sarge's chest falling and rising, though his disturbingly empty eyes hadn't moved or blinked. The medic knelt down to examine him, handling his head carefully.
"Did anyone see what happened?" asked Miss Minutes.
"I did," said Lucky, calmly, automatically, his eyes never leaving Sarge's face. "He… he fell. He almost made it to the top, then the metal part on the rope broke and he slipped."
Lucky's plan had been to act just as innocent as Sarge had, to rub it in his face, but it was a moot point, then. He just stared at Sarge as the medic shined a small light in his eyes. Six came and stood close to Lucky, a bit of gauze and some clear goop smeared all over her lip. Suddenly, Sarge's lip began to quiver, like he was trying to make words. His still, lifeless eyes widened, blinked once or twice.
"What's that?" asked the medic.
Sarge whispered something unintelligible. Lucky leaned in closer, straining to hear as Sarge made some strange, garbled sounds that flicked off his tongue.
"Venisti ad me interficere?"
Lucky couldn't understand a word, but he knew deep down that it wasn't gibberish, either. Sarge blinked rapidly, squinted into the fluorescent lighting, his breath growing stronger. Then, he locked eyes with Lucky. With a grimace, he shakily got himself to his feet.
"No, no, no!" cried the medic, "sit back down, please, you're-"
Sarge threw off her hand and bellowed at Lucky, "Pater meus iam mortuus est! Num me propter illius insaniam interficies? Non sum culpa! Quis es?"
The room stared at him in dead silence as his words echoed around the gym. Miss Minutes had gone perfectly still, her gloved hands covering her mouth.
"Oh, dear," she whispered, to no one in particular.
Lucky jumped backward as Sarge inexplicably lunged for him, grabbing the front of his tee shirt, snarling directly in his face. He was too stunned to move.
"Responde, fili canis!"
The room went berserk. The trainees screamed and ran in all different directions.
"He's gone crazy!" somebody yelled. "Do something!"
Before Lucky could react, Sarge pushed him backward with all his might, knocking him off balance and onto the floor. Six instantly put herself between them, bruised, snarling just as viciously as Sarge.
"Touch him and you die, Sarge!" she growled.
"Sarge?" he asked, the anger on his face quickly melting, replaced by fear and uncertainty. "S-Sarge? Who…? Wait, what's going on?" His eyes darted around the gym, like he'd never seen it before. He shuddered as if a chill had caught hold of him, so violently that it looked like he was going to throw up.
"Doctor," said Miss Minutes quietly, hurriedly addressing the medic, "please bring trainee S-10 to an exam room."
"What about L-"
"She'll be fine." Miss Minutes' expression was hard and serious, more serious than he'd ever seen. "He needs immediate attention. Take him please, doctor."
She nodded, then gently guided Sarge by the elbow to the men's locker room. He didn't complain or resist, now seemingly as harmless as a kitten. The entire class watched him leave, too afraid to ask what had actually happened. It was all over in just a few seconds.
"Class is over," said Miss Minutes curtly. "I have enough data of everyone's finish times to inform my decision. Go back to your locker rooms, shower, and get dressed."
For a few moments, the class stood around like mute, frightened animals, totally dumbstruck.
"Class is dismissed," she repeated emphatically.
At that, everyone began to file to their respective locker rooms, slowly, the only sound in the gym the squeaking of their shoes on varnished wood.
The men went to their lockers to gather their things and undress, whispering amongst themselves. Sarge was gone. He wouldn't have had enough time to change, much less shower. Was he coming back, or were his clothes forgotten there? Lucky admonished himself for asking such a dumb question as he undressed from his sweaty gym clothes. Of course he was coming back. Still, he couldn't stop himself from opening Sarge's locker, curious, to find his clothes hadn't been touched. He felt the outside of Sarge's pants pocket, the warm little lump of infinity stone still there.
He could take it, now. Keep it. No one would ever know what had happened to it.
Lucky tried to push the thought out of his mind, but that morbid, deadly curiosity begged him to reach inside the pocket. He did so with nothing to pick it up with, knowing what it would do to him, knowing how it would feel. He literally couldn't help himself.
The stone grabbed hold of his brain, squeezing it of life like a vice, choking him. It needed him to let it open his mind, let it inside, so it could spread his consciousness wide, naked, flayed like a dead animal…
Gripping the stone with all his might, Lucky made his way stiffly to the showers, the little part of his brain that could still think straight attempting to act normal. In reality, he looked like a zombie shuffling along the bathroom tile.
"Hey, L-7, are you okay?" asked a trainee whose number he didn't know. Lucky didn't respond. Couldn't. The voices were too strong to hear anything else.
It would do everything for him, anything he wanted, if he could only know how to use it-
Lucky scraped his toe against the metal grate along the middle of the bathroom floor, momentarily derailing his chaotic train of thought. The water from the showers flowed into the long grate, like a trough, and the holes… the holes in the grate were just big enough for an infinity stone to fit through.
No! No, he couldn't do that! He needed it! He needed it to show himself to him, to peel him apart, to destroy it, to destroy them both, together!
Lucky, standing awkwardly in the middle of the steamy showers, forced himself to open his hand. It hurt to do so, like his fingers had already burnt down to the bone and there was no muscle left on them.
No, keep it! What was he doing? He couldn't just-
The voices stopped abruptly as the stone slipped between his fingers. It fell to the grate, clinking against the metal, then went straight through one of the square holes, landing with a satisfying 'plunk' into the water below.
Lucky could finally breathe, the oxygen flowing back to his brain. It was done. He was finally rid of that awful thing forever. He wished he would have gotten to use it for his intended target, but it was probably better that he'd never see it or think about it again, anyway.
He went to a showerhead to wash up, the water already blissfully hot as it sprayed over him. Reflexively, he washed the hand that had held the stone, lathering it with soap, as if it had left a permanent mark. The hot water felt cool to the touch on that hand. The soap did little to wash away the strangeness and terror of that day.
Author's note - Sarge is speaking Latin, and it translates to:
"Have you come to kill me?"
"My father is already dead! Will you kill me because of his madness? It's not my fault! Who are you?"
"Answer me, you son of a bitch!" (literal: son of a dog)
I used google translate because I don't know any Latin. If you do, and you can suggest a better translation, please let me know!