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Sunil Jamwal looked me up and down from across the cavernous room early the next morning. He looked at me without any issues, thanks to the clothes I had on. Von Zimmer and his friends in the Organisation seemed to have a fondness for tracksuits. He’d stocked the closet in my room with a supply of them. Thankfully none of them were pink. Most of them were black like the one I was wearing while Sunil examined me with a judgemental smirk on his lips. He wore similar tracksuit pants and a matching vest that showed off his perfectly toned biceps.
He’d seen me fall flat on my arse on the rust bucket that had ferried us to the island. And now it was his job to train me. At the time I’d thought he was just another muscled goon with a machine gun, but now, as I assessed him objectively, the muscles trapped beneath his vest and tracksuit pants were lean and perfectly cut. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d also had a turn in Doctor Mannheim’s machine.
The castle’s cavernous training room was cold, not only in temperature. The stone walls were bare of any art. There weren’t even curtains on the windows or carpets on the marble floor. There were racks of swords and other assorted weapons, most of which I had never seen before, adorning the walls. A variety of training equipment, which ranged from a complicated-looking treadmill, to a red punching bag that looked like a life sized man with targets on the head, abdomen, and groin, to a boxing ring, and opposite the boxing ring was a massive sandpit. On closer inspection, I noticed what resembled blood-splatter around the sandpit’s walls. So the sandpit wasn’t a kiddie’s playground, it was a fighting pit. The room was basically what I imagined a well-equipped fight club gym to look like.
Not that I’d ever set foot inside any sort of gym. Gyms are not my thing. No offence to the gym bunnies out there, I don’t particularly enjoy getting sweaty in public.
Sunil sauntered towards me. He moved like a panther, graceful and deadly.
And then the fucker gut punched me.
Who the fuck does that?
Seriously! Who?
“What the fuck was that for?” I asked through gritted teeth while I tried to breathe again.
“You must be prepared to be attacked at any moment. You must learn to have your guard up at all times,” he said, smiling down at me.
The bastard actually smiled.
“So... You’re going to attack me at weird times like in the old Pink Panther movies?” I asked as I tried to stand up properly.
His reply was a blank stare.
“Have you ever seen those movies?” I asked.
He sighed and side swiped my legs out from under me. My head hit marble with a resounding crack that reverberated around my skull, causing pinpricks of light to shatter my vision.
“They were ridiculous movies. Do not insult my training techniques with that crap,” he said as he walked away.
While I lay on the cold floor I remembered that I was no longer that scared woman from little more than a week ago. I was now a badass killing machine. I wasn’t Sunil’s punching bag. He was mine.
As I lay on the floor I started to wonder what exactly my body could do. What was I capable of? How hard could I push myself? I’d never been particularly athletic, but the possibilities were intriguing.
So I tried something.
You know that backflip move you see those super fit and agile martial arts actors do in the movies? You know the one I’m talking about, right? The one where they go from lying on the floor looking near comatose and they kind of flip back up without having to do the old granny move of using their hands or groaning. They miraculously end up back on their feet with this smug ‘I’m back’ look on their faces.
Yeah. That move.
I fucking nailed it.
As I snuck up behind Sunil with my newly acquired abilities I wished there was some music playing. Some Flogging Molly or Dropkick Murphys. Something befitting the epic beat down I was about to dish out.
I jumped up.
My right hand scrunched up in a tight fist, ready to punch the back of his neck.
His foot came out of nowhere and connected with my stomach.
I went flying across the room.
“Elena was right,” Sunil said with a smirk as he strolled towards me. “You really are like a baby Elephant.”
“Fuck you,” I groaned from my crumpled up position on the floor.
“Simply because the Doctor made improvements does not mean you’re ready to fight. But if you get off your pert arse and do as I say, you’ll be ready a lot sooner than if you keep playing at whatever that was supposed to be.” He stuck his hand out to help me up.
I was sorely tempted to break his fingers, partly just to see if I could and partly because I wanted to make him squeal. But instead I smacked his hand away and stood up on my own.
Didn’t need his fucking help.
“We’ll start by testing your endurance,” Sunil said, turning his back on me, begging for another attack. I swallowed the desire to kick his pert arse.
As I watched him walk over to the state of the art treadmill, on the other side of the room, I couldn’t help noticing how pert his arse was. I have to admit, I was tempted to pinch it.
“As most of the events are similar to the one that you have recently experienced, our focus for the moment will be on testing your stamina and optimising your running style,” Sunil said looking down at the treadmill’s console and hitting buttons on it with his pointer finger.
“Did Elena also go through this sort of thing?” I asked as I joined him.
“What do you mean by this sort of thing?” Sunil asked as he stopped touching the screen and looked at me.
“You know, all of this,” I said as I gestured around the room.
“I would imagine that she went through an extensive training programme,” he said, once again engrossed with whatever he was doing with the console. Probably devising some form of fresh hell for me.
“Yes, but did she also undergo the same sort of treatment and enhancements?”
“I’m not sure. It’s possible. Each of the Patrons has their own doctors who develop and work on their Runners. Anything is possible.” He nodded to himself. “The Patrons and doctors get quite competitive, and so do the Runners.”
He stepped away from the treadmill and gestured for me to climb on.
The bastard didn’t even give me time to put both feet on before starting the fucking thing. I only just managed to grab hold of the handrails and get both feet on and moving. I narrowly avoided doing a faceplant on the running belt. I was suddenly very grateful for my improved reflexes.
“You need to stop thinking that your body is the way it used to be,” Sunil said as he crossed his arms and examined me while I ran. “Let go of all those previous issues with your body. Your body is a sharp instrument and will be able to do almost anything you need it to, but you need to stop getting in your own way.”
“I’m not getting in my own way,” I said as my legs sprinted.
I couldn’t help but stare at them in shock. I’d never seen legs move that quickly, not even Elena’s on the island as she ran away from me, leaving me to die. The thought of her betrayal seemed to propel my legs even faster. What really shocked me, though, was that I wasn’t even breathing hard. My lungs felt as though I was taking a stroll around the block, not running faster than a car. For the first time in my life I laughed while I ran.
It was fucking amazing.