Gym | after school | OTA
Lieutenant Helga Sinclair delievered a sharp roundhouse kick to the head... of an opponent who wasn't there. She slid back to dodge an invisible strike and dropped low. Her body twisted as one leg extended to trip her unseen partner.
Every morning began with five laps, twenty-five push-ups, twenty-five sit-ups, and twenty-five pull-ups. The same she asked of her twice-a-week classes.
Every afternoon ended with the same if the gym was in use or, as was the case, a round of shadowboxing if the track was in use.
She timed her every movement, coordinated each breath. When she shifted positions, it was fluid, and her jabs were sharp, her strikes hard, even against the air. Her eyes narrowed as her tempo increased. The solider gave way to the assassin. The need to follow orders melted into the need to kill. The assassin became the cat. The rational mind and trained body warped into the instinctual cunning and raw power.
With a mimicry of a knife thrust, she stopped. She watched the ground for a moment, breathing hard. As her muscles began to relax, she tilted her head back and chuckled.
Nothing like a good workout.
Every morning began with five laps, twenty-five push-ups, twenty-five sit-ups, and twenty-five pull-ups. The same she asked of her twice-a-week classes.
Every afternoon ended with the same if the gym was in use or, as was the case, a round of shadowboxing if the track was in use.
She timed her every movement, coordinated each breath. When she shifted positions, it was fluid, and her jabs were sharp, her strikes hard, even against the air. Her eyes narrowed as her tempo increased. The solider gave way to the assassin. The need to follow orders melted into the need to kill. The assassin became the cat. The rational mind and trained body warped into the instinctual cunning and raw power.
With a mimicry of a knife thrust, she stopped. She watched the ground for a moment, breathing hard. As her muscles began to relax, she tilted her head back and chuckled.
Nothing like a good workout.