Liv lets out another ragged breath as she barrels down the stairs at top speed, running like her life depended on it. Liv had underestimated Charlotte's eagerness to get to the testing site, or she just didn't understand the importance of punctuality. Either way, the result was her trying to follow Charlotte with little to no success. Charlotte, despite heavy armor and frail frame, is easily breezing past steps, a gale force wind billowing behind her as she cuts through the air like a bullet. Liv's legs pump for all they're worth, the burn of exertion growing from an inconsequential annoyance to a painful reminder of Hellfire's cruel building practices.

  Liv sucks a breath through her teeth, her nose no longer getting an adequate amount of oxygen into her resource deprived lungs. She had to be quicker, and she knows how, but it'd hurt... Nothing to do about it, she supposes. With a final breath, she begins clearing two steps, then three: four, five, six, seven, and eight. By the time she could see Charlotte again, she was bounding down entire flights, her knees half buckling with every jump. By the tail end of it, she was practically hurling herself down each flight, her body unable to keep up with the demand of speed.

  They arrive at their floor within short notice, Charlotte bursting through the doors, Liv straggling a handful of seconds behind. Liv barely clutches onto the dry heave that threatens to erupt from her throat, her head lolling forward as sweat beads down her face. Unlike Liv, Charlotte seemed completely fine, the only sign that she ever remotely exerted herself being a twinge of rosy red staining her cheeks.

  "That just ain't fair." Liv mutters between ragged breaths.

  "Hm?" Charlotte questions, her head perking up to face Liv.

  "Nothin'." Liv responds in full, waving her head as she pulls herself up fully. She wipes the sweat from her forehead with her arm, eyes flitting about the room, taking in the scenery around her.

  The room was a bright white, similar to freshly fallen snow without the blemishes of dirt or grime. Most of the room follows this trend, all except the ceiling hanging up ahead. It was made of a foam tile with a color more similar to eggshell than pure white, a far cry from the exposed rafters of it's brethren from yesterday. Near the front, George stands on a slightly elevated platform, a pair of steel doors looming behind him. His attention is wrapped with a clipboard in his hand, a pen whirling between his fingers with little to no effort.

  The room is full to bursting with people, buzzing conversation abound out like cicadas on a warm summer night. Through the hundreds of unfamiliar faces, she can make out three she can actually recognize. The first one she notices mingles about a large crowd, his smile radiant as the sun. The laughs he pulls from people can be heard over the idle buzz of conversation. Bus boy? That wasn't his name, but she never asked for his name. Maybe she would later, but she didn't have the time nor confidence for that. On the other side of the room is the large metal man from yesterday. He stands alone, ramrod straight with his arms crossed neatly over his chest. His attention is locked on George. That might've been strange if he was the only one, but it seems a small minority was doing just that.

  Charlotte lets out a breath of relief, her hand falling to her chest, her voice filled with relief as she speaks. "We made it on time." She takes a glance around as she speaks, her smile growing as another person slides through the door after them. "Early, too."

  "So why did we go so fast down those stairs?" Liv questions, her voice laced with incredulity. "You said we were gonna be late!"

  "Punctuality is key," Charlotte starts, her voice laced with that teasing, self satisfied tone, "but getting in ahead of time is preferred."

  Liv gears up to retort, but deflates when she sees all the people before them. Hundreds at the minimum, each here a minimum of minutes before her. Just another societal norm that was lost upon her. She sighs, leaning against the wall, resigning herself to a wait. She didn't really know when it started, though she assumes she's been told before and has since forgotten. Her boss would know, but they've been unresponsive since she woke up. Ever since...

  Her head throbs with the thought of that place, the colors seeming hazy and distant here. Would Charlotte know something about it? Perhaps, she seems the sort. She turns to her taller friend, her mouth open to speak; though, the words die in her throat as she perceives her friends current state.

  Charlotte, in the few seconds Liv looked away, has changed completely. Gone was the small smirk, the teasing words, and the twinkle in her eye. Her body was completely rigid, almost statue-esque in appearance. Her face is completely blank, apathy painting over the canvas of joy and mischief that typically colored her features. Liv finds herself dumbstruck by the change, her eyes instinctively following her friends expression, the cause of her impassiveness apparent.

  “Yo! Yoooo!” The cause says, waving his hand as he jogs up to the two, that same golden smile plastered onto his face. It was the boy from the bus, effortlessly weaving through the crowd like a fish swimming through water. It seemed effortless for him, sliding and ducking through crowds, a needle sewing a tapestry right to them.

  “Ah. Hello.” Charlotte says as he arrives, doing a quick, respectful curtsy in response to his greeting.

  “A curtsy? You’re making me feel like a king over here!” He muses, stopping just before Charlotte. He jabs his thumb right into his chest, an easy going confidence leaking from his tone as he speaks. “The name’s Donovan! I'm making my rounds, trying to make some new friends and all that. Hope that can be you two!”

  “I am Charlotte Arcille, first daughter of Clement and Louise Arcille of the House of Arcille.” Charlotte says flatly. Donovan waits for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching as he looks at Charlotte. Her response never comes, however– her eyes trained on him like a hawk seeking its prey. Donovan chuckles awkwardly, his gaze turning to Liv.

  “Uh... What about you?” He says, his voice regaining some of the lost momentum from before. “And can I say. Muscles? Insane.” He adds, tapping his own bicep. It's not nothing, but its nowhere near the level of Liv's defined arm. “Respect the grind, even if I couldn’t do all that. Maybe you could teach me your routine, yeah?”

  Liv blinks, still gobsmacked by the complete and utter tonal shift. Still, her small amount of formal training hijacks her brain, allowing her to reach out and clasp his hand with her own, giving it a quick pump.

  “Oh!" He chirps, his face contorting a bit as she grabs his hand with a very, very firm grip. “Uh… Tight grip-!”

  “Liv Boss.” Liv says quickly and curtly, trying to sound as respectful as she could manage. In the end, it came out just a touch abrasive, the curtness sending Donovan for a loop.

  “What?” He says, his smile faltering as a bewildered expression washes over his features. “Is that, like, a statement?”

  “My name.” She clarifies, still trying to sound as personable as possible, her face as hard as stone. If Charlotte thought this was the correct way, then it just had to be the method.

  “Oh! Formal, eh? I can do that!” He nods, his grip tightening on Liv's hand. A wide smile splits his face as he lets go, taking a small step back. “Guess I gotta reintroduce myself!” He folds a foot over the other, his hand doing the same over his stomach as he dips forward in a deep bow. “Greetings to you, madam. My name is Donovan Orinthow, born and raised in Maine." His words peel off into soft chuckles at the end, his inability to take the situation serious evident. Eventually, he stands back up, wiping a small bit of mirthful moisture from his eye. "Didn't know you two were the fancy sort, but when in Rome!”

  Liv stares at the gesture, a sudden realization crashing over her. Was this a normal conversation? Was she actually, genuinely connecting with someone? A bubbling excitement brews in her chest, her eyes sparkling as she struggles to find the words she wants to say. Common experiences? They probably had none... Then again, Charlotte said people liked when you engaged with them and their life. A smile creeps across her face as she nods, finding a sentence she found suitable.

  "That Rome place seems awful nice," she starts, her tone a mix between the facade of propriety and the excitement bubbling in her chest, giving her tone an almost condescending undertone, "It cold over there?"

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  "I..." Donovan starts, momentarily dumbstruck. "What?"

  "Y'know, cold?" Liv says, gesturing to his jacket. "Ya got a jacket, yeah? Reckon yer home would be cold!"

  "I-I guess?" Donovan says, more a question than a statement. "I guess it isn't tropical, but I don't really need the jacket. I'm not destitute-."

  "So how do ya stay warm?" Liv questions. "Do ya, like, set a big fire up?"

  "I..." Donovan starts again, his previous befuddlement fusing with the current confusion he feels, morphing into a conglomeration of stupefaction that leaves him momentarily stunned. "WHAT?"

  SNORT

  The snort cuts through the strenuous conversation, both parties turning to look at the source of the noise. Charlotte stands, facing away from them, her hands ramrod to her side. Her hands clenched, trembling with the exertion of keeping a semblance of control over her decorum. Her lips suck into her mouth, her eyes shut tight, facing away from anyone who could possibly see her.

  Donovan looks between the two, a realization creeping in. Were they... Making fun of him? He was by no means poor, but he didn't have the generational wealth that was expected of a Hellfire Recruit. He could rapidly feel his face flushing, his teeth set on edge.

  Liv wore her own expression, though confusion was the only emotion she could muster up. What was funny? She was just asking questions, connecting like anyone normal person would. With a shrug of her shoulders, she turns back to Donovan, a plan concocting in her mind. People liked compliments, right? If she was going to make this man her friend, a well placed one would do the trick! His clothing seemed nice, though she wasn't well versed in modern fashion statements– nor did she understand what a modern fashion statement was– but it couldn't be that hard.

  "So how many jackets ya got?" She questions, giving the jacket another once over. It looked warm. If she was earning money like Charlotte said, she'd might have to get one for herself.

  Donovan turns to stare back at her, his eye twitching. This was a designer jacket, thousands of dollars fresh. "Just the one." Donovan manages to spit out.

  Liv nods in acknowledgment, her arms crossing over her chest. She supposes it made sense to own just one if you could easily clean it, especially if it was cold; though, he did say he didn't need it. Something like her boss, then? Maybe it was his weapon! Dd he get it the same way she did? Only way to know was to ask, she supposed.

  "Are yer parents alive?" Liv questions.

  "I..." Donovan starts, the befuddlement from before mixing with the swirling storm of anger, transforming into a rage that stunned him in place. "EXCUSE YOU?"

  Liv was incompetent, but even she could feel the anger radiating off what she considered to be a potential friend. She blinks, trying to construe what she did wrong. Was that question not okay? She supposes she could see how it might be considered a sore subject, but this level of anger felt beyond a simple "sore subject".

  Before she can respond with a comment inappropriate for the situation, Charlotte slides herself between the two, her voice diplomatic in tone.

  "I apologize for my friends words, they did not mean what they said. I promise something like this will never happen again."

  Donovan glares up at her, flame burning behind his eyes. Charlotte doesn't budge, her face locked in a dead neutral. Donovan grunts, turning away and storming off. His position here was strenuous, and getting in fights wouldn't help him in any way.

  Charlotte nods as she turns back to Liv, an ear splitting smile spreading across her face. The mirth was clear on her face, a harmonious giggle escaping the pale woman's mouth. "That was... Something. I had a clue on your conversational skills, but I thought your decorum would be a touch better than that!"

  "...I thought I was doin' good up 'till the end." Liv says slowly, her eyebrows furrowed as her head hangs. She runs through the conversation, trying to find out what she did wrong. She supposes it was just that sore a subject, but Liv really believed she was on a roll there.

  Charlotte's smile slowly drops, a look of concern passing across her face as she reaches out, her hand on course for Liv's shoulder. "Hey, it's more than fine to make a mistake here and there. If you-."

  “Liv Boss.” George’s voice barks out, both women's heads whipping toward the sound. Without hesitation, Liv disengages from the conversation at hand, shouldering her way through the crowd. Some give her some nasty stares, the occasional "watch yourself" too, though stares and snide platitudes are all she's given. Once she finally pushes through the crowd, George is there to meet her, his clipboard in hand. Once in eye shot, George gives her a nod, scratching her name off the clipboard

  “Good luck.” He says, nodding his head toward the metal doors. They loom over her, over double the height of Charlotte with a matching width. She pushes on them, surprised by how easy the doors open. Once inside, they shut behind her with an almost automated speed, a small gust of wind whooshing across her back; although, the cold air chill had nothing on the room itself.

  The room is far smaller than the waiting room she was in before, only being a bit larger than her own living quarters. Lined up in rows are three pieces of workout equipment on three distinct metal pedestals, the order from left to right going: a single barbell, a squat rack, and a bench press. Each one is strapped to the floor by large, thick bands of rubber. The bench and squat rack seem normal in appearance, though the single barbell on the floor has wires attached to the bands.

  Liv shivers, the cold seeping deep into her skin, chills setting deep into her bones. The room was colder than it had any right to be, her exposed skin flirting with the idea of frostbite. She breathes out, a puff of steam billowing from her mouth.

  "Great." Liv mutters mentally, her already sour mood further curdling. Just what she needed, the cold.

  A crackle reverberates through the room, a crunchy voice eminating out of the ancient speakers hidden in small corners of the room. If they were in the open, they were too small for Liv to see.

  “Whenever you’re ready, start on any exercise.” The distinctly male voice says, a powerful nasal present in their voice. Liv looks out at each of them, the realization hitting her... She didn't know how to do these.

  "The hell am I looking at?" She questions, gesturing wildly at the three bars. Just what she needed, to feel more incompetent.

  “Elaborate.”

  “I mean how do I do em. I ain’t seen anythin’ like this ‘fore.” She elaborates slowly.

  “Instructions on the lifts are on the platforms.” He responds flatly.

  Liv furrows her brow, her eyes drifting back to the platforms. With small steps, she makes her way to the leftmost platform, stepping onto the platform and toward the bar. Right there, smack dab in front of the bar, is two papers with separate types of instruction, both taped on and laminated. One is a poster shows step by step how to do the movement– a basic dead lift– the other has text scrawled across its surface. Liv mentally reads it, mumbling to herself as she does.

  "Your score is calculated based on the newtons of force generated. Final score will be additive of all three base scores.”

  "So I just pull this lil bar." Liv states, more as a fact than a question as she looks up to one of the corners. There is no response, however– either from a lack of something to say or from malfunction; though, Liv is leaning toward the former.

  Liv can remember doing something similar to this back when she was in the city. In the larger stores, most of the unlooted items were on the highest of shelves, and Liv wasn't a climber; instead, she opted for the elegant solution of grabbing them and toppling them over. The range of motion was similar to this. She grits her teeth, crouching down as she arcs her back.

  “GRAHHH!” Liv growls, putting every iota of strength in her body into this lift. Her face goes red, veins popping out of her like wires under a blanket. She continues to lift, finding reservoirs of strength she didn't have. It all went into this: her anger, her embarrassment, her sorrow at not fitting in... All of it. She begins to pant, her legs violently shake like jello. More, she needed more.

  “You may thank me later.” Her boss says mentally, Liv only barely making their voice out behind the power she exerted. A surge of energy suddenly rushes through her, her muscles swelling with power. She feels more than reinvigorated, her tapped energy reserves filling like a dried out lake. She redoubles her effort, burying her feet in the metal platform. Just one more push-!

  RIPPP...

  Liv falls back as all her strength turns against her, falling butt first off the platform. She yelps, the bar in her hand clattering to the floor just behind her. She looks to the ceiling, her eyes wide, her chest beating wildly as adrenaline pumps through her veins. What the hell had she just done? As she sits up, she gets her answer.

  The bands had failed as it seems, the bar bent and broken with the exertion of her lift.

  “How the hell'd you-?" Liv mutters mentally, her eyes wide with shock as she prods the mental connection between her and her boss. Unfortunately, she gets no response. Silence, now this?

  “Proceed to the next test.” The spindly man’s voice rings through the room, a hint of an emotion bleeding through. Something akin to surprise, though their professionalism masks it.

  Liv stands, patting herself off as she looks to the next two platforms. She shrugs, her shocked mind pushing onward toward the bench. The instructions on the point total and such are the same, the only poster difference being the steps of the lift itself. Liv nods as she sits on the bench. Her muscles tingle, her hands shaking with the raw power laying just beneath the surface. It was like raw electricity coursing through her veins, her heart thrumming in her chest like drums of war. She had so much energy to get out, but she didn't want to break the damn things... Was she supposed to? Maybe they made them weak on purpose or something.

  She shakes her head, refocusing her thoughts. She slides under the bar, her hands gripping the bar as she breathes, sliding off the safety pins with one swift motion, another growl escaping her mouth. As she does, the same rush of power courses through her, her already powered up muscles swelling further.

  RIPPP…

  Liv’s arms shoot up, causing her to blink. Yet again, the straps snapped, though the bar was nearly snapped in half this time. She slowly sits up, gently placing the bar on the bench.

  “Proceed.” The spindly man says, clearing his throat afterward. "Try to be careful, though." He adds, his voice still impassive.

  Liv nods, hoping they could see the gesture. She was trying her hardest to be careful, but it just wasn't working for some damn reason. Standing from the bench, she walks over to the squat rack, her whole body tingling as she steps up the final platform. She breathes a shuddering breath, a feeling akin to air time rushing through her, almost like her body weighed nothing.

  “Careful.” She mutters mentally like a mantra. her teeth clenching as she tries to focus in on that one phrase. As she prepares to lift, however, another surge of power rushes through her, her legs swelling with power.

  “G-!” Liv starts as she shoots up with explosive force, laser focused on not ripping the straps.

  CRUNCH

  The entire platform under her rips, the metal crunching in on itself behind her. The wires within break, sparks flying as Liv tumbles forward, the bolted down squat rack bent beyond recognition. Silence overtakes the room once more, the sound of sparks flying being the only sound to break the overbearing silence. Slowly, Liv stands up, her already annoyed and nervous mental state compounding with the sense of dread she felt.

  “Am I In trouble?” Liv asks, looking over the broken equipment. She tried to be careful, she really did. It just... Didn't work.

  “I’m not sure… I can't say I've seen this before.” He mutters into the mic. She can hear fumbling on his side, his most likely cluttered desk being sorted for an item of some sort. Liv readies herself to say something, but gets cut off as he speaks. “Exit the door on the right, I'll have to see if I can't find a replacement on the fly."

  Liv pauses, questions brewing in her mind. She shakes her head, letting her emotion get the best of her as she drags herself out, exiting through the indicated exit. She felt boundless energy behind every step, like a sort of physical peak for her, a crescendo of power– the source of it completely and utterly unresponsive. Her mind wars with itself as she makes it to the endless steps of the Initiative, caught between the blunders and fuck-ups and the knowledge that she might've done pretty good.

  "I reckon the climb’ll be quick atleast.” Liv mutters mentally, trying to think positive.

  She manages to make it up a single flight of stairs before the world begins to spin, a wave of fatigue crashing into her like a physical weight. Her body shudders, her knees buckling as nauseating breaths bombard her queasy stomach. Her last act as a conscious being is to shove herself against a wall, sliding down as a cold sweat beads down her entire body. Overexertion? Maybe, though she usually doesn't feel this horrible after that. Her time for thinking is cut off as her eyes flutter shut, darkness swallowing her mind.