Overtime

fifteen ✧ || revitalize

They were in the midst of their post-workout stretches when a box slammed onto the concrete basement floor.

Cautiously, seeing as he was in the front of the group, Jay lifted his brows and cast a hesitant stare toward the male who placed it there.

The Professor, after dumping said box before them, swiftly turned his back to the bunch and focused on setting up his monitoring equipment. The plan, as it currently stood, was that the basement of the school would be temporarily transformed into their new base of operations. This was until, and unless, the bunch was required to intervene on any event The Professor and Glendhall deemed mandatory.

Turning to the rest of his team, Jay silently asked for answers as to what to do with the object. The general muted consensus was for him to open it.

Gladly — and eagerly — he did.

Inside sat six sandwiches, one for each of them, clearly retrieved from some sort of vending machine. With a beaming smile, Jay grabbed one and hoisted it up, exposing the contents to the rest of the group. Without a word of debate, they funnelled forward, each rushing to grab one.

Sitting down, desperate in their state of hunger, they all dug in. Of course, when they reached the halfway point on their sandwiches, their stares nervously fluttered across the circle to one another.

What exactly were they to do?

Were they allowed to talk? Would The Professor permit such a thing? Or, if they dared to do so, would their punishment be stricter than their previous ones?

Raymond, as if reading the expressions of the rest of the group, cleared his throat. "I think we must be under the gym." He claims, peeling off a part of the crust of his sandwich and readying it by his lips. "That's what I gather from all that thumping."

There was silence, as if the group was attempting to get a read on the room before responding. After all, if The Professor looked even remotely unhappy, they didn't want to test it. But, surprisingly, they were met with no reaction. He attended to plugging in his monitors, ignoring their hushed tones.

"That must be Aubrey's class." Dustin claimed, speaking briefly before digging into his sandwich once more.

Colten, taking the opportunity, nudged Aubrey's arm with his elbow. Seeing as he was sitting on her left — the side not attacked by the punching bag — he assumed it was okay. "You must be so torn up about it."

The brunette rolled her eyes, prompted a soft chuckle from the group as she returned to her lunch.

Despite their playful chuckling and quick banter, The Professor made no comment. He occupied himself with setting up his monitors and checking upgrading stats on the ones already working. He attempted to shift their positions on the plastic table he snagged, trying to organize his layout to resemble his station back home.

The extent of his silence was daunting.

The group had never seen him blow up the way he had before, and the silent treatment was not something he ever had, nor something they ever thought he would, do.

The group finished the last of their meals, cooing as they tossed their wrappers back in the box they arrived in. They noticed while doing so The Professor's stance had shifted. He seemed more serious, more focused, less willing to bend to their chatter.

His gaze, intent on pressing into each of them, locked as his free hand gestured to their shackles and restraints piled on the far side of the room.

The group followed his gaze, hesitating as their stares lingered against the objects they hated so dearly. Despite their dread knowing what they once again needed to slip into, they all stood and started for them. Colten helped Aubrey to her feet while the twins hoisted up each other in sync. Much to The Professor's surprise, he watched as they began assisting each other in attaching their respective equipment.