Imperium

Chapter 24: Weight

Great. More military work.

Cree walks through the halls feeling more than a little annoyed. After his personal interview with this 'Elder' Haegen, it was decided that he was to 'return to his roots' and serve as a soldier with three others apparently. Or as Haegen called them, the 'spies'.

He reaches the training room, stocked with walls lined with weaponry and exercise equipment. Punching bags hang from the ceiling. There's a shooting range at the furthest end of the room that it looks like Umbra is destroying while also smoking a cigarette.

He was informed about the showers and bed chambers in the basement of Fulminare, but he doesn't feel like sleeping and he hates showers enough as it is. He knows he has to take them. On occasion. But he still never likes it.

Giovanni is at one of the punching bags, just going at it. She's still wearing her sunglasses, and at this point he doubts she ever takes them off.

There's another guy here that Cree hasn't met before. He has jet black hair slicked back with an infuriating amount of hair jell. He's wearing a dark jean jacket and – as if he couldn't hate the look of this man more – a tight dark grey tank top. He's also wearing dark skinny jeans and black leather combat boots. He isn't training or anything, he's just standing with his arms crossed and his back leaned against a wall, watching the others.

Elder Haegen advised Cree to get to know the people he's going to be working with, but he decides against it and just walks through the room. Just like back in the Sunder military, he'll just show up, train and exercise, get his orders and then leave. Assuming he's getting orders.

He makes his way to the weight benches along the right wall, since that's the furthest away from everyone else. He takes off his jacket so he's just in his light grey t-shirt that he found in the room he was given. He feels strange having his arm visible freely after the bullshit in Aramora, but he already feels strange just being here. What's a little more discomfort?

He lays back and just starts lifting the weight, remembering when he used to think doing this was hard. Once upon a time, he thought he was going to die just lifting a ten-pound bar. Granted, he was a scrawny kid back then, but he supposes being here is bringing back those memories, somewhat bleeding them together.

He wonders if Conrad would be proud if he could see him now.

He hears some low chuckling but ignores it to focus just on raising and dropping the bar, repeating the process and feeling only a little strain whenever he pushes up, the action taking a little more effort each time.

"You know doing that is supposed to be for your arms, right? What's the point in working metal?" comes a man's voice that follows the previous chuckle he heard.

Cree still ignores him and brings the bar back up. He can feel his left arm straining to push harder once his annoyance starts rising.

Footsteps approach so he keeps his focus on lifting, when he suddenly feels some weight added to the bar on his left side and he hears a clink of metal hitting metal from a new ring being pushed into place at the end of the pole.

His left arm muscles tense, but still, he keeps lifting the bar and ignoring the frustrating snicker from his left.

"Damn, still going? How 'bout some more weight," the man says.

Another weight is added onto the left side of the bar and he has to limit how much force he puts into his right arm to keep it balanced. His left arm muscles burn and shake a bit, but he still manages to bring the bar all the way up, and then back down.

"You're the newbie, right? What's your name?" the man asks condescendingly.

Cree ignores him to keep his attention on not tipping the bar with his metal arm. His annoyance grows stronger but he tries to keep it down.