FIRE [FIRST DRAFT]

Chapter 3: What Must Be Done

                  

Fist flew after fist, strong and aggressive. Valerie, Finn, Stefan, Aimee and Gavin were sparring amongst the other RDAs, partaking in bare hand-to-hand combat. They could fire a gun, like they were born with one in each hand, but they could not depend solely on weapons, on pieces of unreliable metal.

"You should be able to take out the entire AIM organisation, without them," said their ruthless personal instructor, the current first-place holder in the Ranks, Kimiko.

Gavin was her sparring partner for the time being. It seemed as if his breath had escaped him, in the form of the sweat on his brow, chin, and RDA shirt, vacating his lungs. As basic as the training was – the motions and attacks – Kimiko trained wearing a backpack filled with dumbbells for resistance, and so she had them train under the same conditions. She had convinced them to imagine the backpack was an adversary, and that they had to be able to fight, to endure the colossal mass upon their shoulders. But Kimiko was an android, walking, talking and fighting as if it were as easy a task as counting your fingers. She was not out of breath, her sweat trickled like steam on a cold surface. Sure, she was tired, but you wouldn't notice by looking at her.

Routinely, she would step away from Gavin and assess the others, and she saw as Aimee lost her focus, as her cheek was met with one of Stefan's fists. He retracted his hand as if he'd killed an infant, his mind still processing what had occurred.

"I'm so sorry, Aimee!" he uttered desperately.

"I'm fine," she replied, her cool fingers on her broiling cheek.

But her mind was anywhere but in that room with her, and training, even the idea of it, was enervating. She tried to get back into her stance, but every part of her refused to continue.

"Kimiko, this is ridiculous," she breathed.

The android leaned back as Gavin's foot approached her jaw, and she glanced at Aimee out the corner of her eye. Gavin stopped and waited for her to respond to Aimee's remark, slowly backing away. Kimiko sat down on the tiles and crossed her legs.

"So, what do you suggest we do?" she queried. "You know, we leave in two hours."

"We should take a break," Aimee answered, ignoring the flabbergasted faces of her peers. "Truth is we don't know enough of what we are up against."

Suddenly, she was talking to the whole Ranked Division, eyes and ears called by her display of sophistication. Aimee thought about what Dominick had said earlier about Buckley and GINM. She'd had enough of secrets and lies, of training and of acting strong all the time when really she was terrified. She was never good at pretending, even as a kid she'd giggle and blush helplessly whenever she told a lie, but she was different now. The inevitable transformation that her life had undergone, the thought of it, rested in the back of her mind. Sometimes, it would sneak up on her, reminding her of the things she missed – seemingly juvenile things, like accompanying Emma on one of her frequent shopping sprees. With a shake of the head, she put her thoughts away.

Aimee sighed, "I'm tired. All we ever do is train until we're dripping in our own sweat. What are we trying to prove? We are brave, brilliant fighters, but we're also people and we should get to just be people. Why can't we just spend the next two hours doing something we actually want to do? Why are we here?"

Everyone was quiet and kept in contemplation. A hand sprouted up from the audience, and its owner was speaking even before they had made their way to the front of the gathered crowd.

"Most of us don't have a home or a family to go to," said the girl, she was circa sixteen-years-old, one of the newer recruits from central Africa. "But we have this place. At least here we have a chance to make a difference in the world. So we train and we fight, until the last minute." She had such enviable hope.