The Transfer ✔️

Chapter Thirty - Annihilation

Chapter song: when the partys over – Billie Eilish

~

The early afternoon was fading, making way for night. Darkness is close, but it isn't here yet. I punch against the leather of the boxing bag; it makes a sound every time I strike which sends pleasure down my spine. Sweat pricks at my skin, a coping mechanism my body sends out later and later every time I train – both my mind and body know what I'm capable of. Once you align both, training and exercise becomes significantly easier.

Excuses no longer exist when your mind understands what your body needs to do to survive. Initially, at the very beginning of this program eight years ago, boxing was suicide for my body. I would hurt for days afterwards. Now? I can go as long as I need to. Consistency at any skill pays off when you put in effort, your mind is effortlessly programed to improve when it does a skill over and over again.

This is a lesson I've tried to engrain into the soldiers of Defense but it seems no matter what I do, or say, they don't listen. Maybe they do, but it doesn't make the same impact. People give up left and right, only the achievers sticking around to listen and learn. In a day of precise technical skills being focused on, the achievers and slackers are as clear as if they were painted red and blue.

Sighing I move to the group at the back and stand less than a meter away. Half of them turn to me, nudging the oblivious ones with their elbows to pay attention. Once the four slackers have their eyes on me, I try to keep my breathing steady to not give any indication of agitation. That would give the sign of weakness, a hint I can't afford with my new position.

"We have the pen this afternoon. It's a battle. Act like it." I say, keeping my voice as steady as my gaze as it meets every person.

"We're not taking part."

"You know damn well thats not an excuse," I scoff at their naivety. "I've personally had to jump in and save people. Do you want to be the weak link that can't save their friends?"

"That's because you have some weird relationship with Leo." One mutters as I walk away.

I swing back around and forget about the burning inside of me. Rage is best delivered in a cool, clear voice. "My personal life has nothing to do with my success. If you're concerned about any issues concerning this subject, talk to me. Don't talk crap behind my back. Any other problems or are you going to start working?"

"Working." They all mumble as they traipse away, their footsteps dragging across the floor. I smile as I watch them go.

After another hour, responsibility weighs down on my shoulders. I don't even need to look at the time to know that I have to start rounding people up for The Pen. Sending Matt a sideways glance, he reads it perfectly and goes to get the list of participants. With clockwork efficiency, we gather everyone who needs to be taken with us.

I smile as I walk up the ramp with the chosen soldiers. After our success two weeks, ago a swagger has developed in our steps. The knowingness that we can win has spread pride quickly through the elected Pen soldiers. We know we can win; we believe it now. This event is no longer hopeless, its manageable. Sure, it's tough, but every success requires effort for it to feel good.

Gathering in the main entrance, I stand in front of the others. Leonardo greets me quietly, taking my hand into his for a few blissful moments before letting go, respecting my boundaries on public displays of affection. As usual, its difficult to keep my smile at bay.

Once the entrance is teeming with soldiers ready to represent the camp, I stand away from the group and let out a harsh whistle for them to pay attention. Slowly, their anticipation-induced chatter dies down into silence, leaving the stage open for me.