Militarystuck

Boot Camp

"ALRIGHT DICKWEASELS, LISTEN UP!"
Sargent Vantas's voice boomed across the camp, startling those who weren't paying attention. He was a moderate sized troll, about six feet tall. He wore his medium length black hair messily, due to how often he had a helmet on. His clothing style was professional, but flexible. He wore a black tank top, with a gray cancer symbol plastered across it. He also wore baggy khaki pants, with two sickles held on the belt. His footwear was a clearly worn pair of combat boots, which he's had since he was a soldier in this boot camp himself.
The camp quickly stood up and made a line in front of their current leader.
"I AM NOT HERE TO BE YOUR FUCKING MOIRAIL. I AM HERE TO TRAIN YOUR ASSES FOR THE BATTLEFIELD! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"
The camp mumbled their agreement, nodding with their answers.
"WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE? A GROUP OF PUSSIES!? I SAID, DO YOU FUCKERS UNDERSTAND?"
The camp straightened and gave a firm "Yes Sir!" They were a new regimen, much unlike the camps Vantas had before. They were inattentive, lazy, and unfit for battle. They would be hard to train, and Vantas knew this, but he was determined to do so anyways.
"FIRST ORDER OF BUSINESS IS WARM-UP. FIFTEEN LAPS, AROUND THE CAMP! GET THAT FLAB OUT OF YOUR SYSTEM, SOLDIERS!"
The soldiers began to march along the fence lining the training area. All of them were keeping a steady pace... Except for one. Vantas marched over to the chubby troll laying on the ground.
"WELL LOOK WHAT WE HAVE HERE," he shouted. "ARE YOU SLACKING OFF, PINKY?"
The fuchsia blooded troll forced herself up and faced the Sargent nervously.
"N-No sir, I was just reely tired..."
"UNACCEPTABLE! HIT THE GROUND AND GIVE ME TWENTY, SOLDIER. WHAT IS YOUR NAME?"
The trainee dropped on her stomach. "Feferi Peixes, Sir!"
"PEIXES, WHEN YOU'RE DONE WITH THOSE PUSH-UPS, YOU WILL RUN THE REST OF THE LAPS WITHOUT STOPPING. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?"
"Crystal, Sir..." She said. It was going to be a long day...