Project Perses: Redemption

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

I spit the blood out that had accumulated in my mouth and turn my head to look at the man to my left. He's standing there calmly as if he hadn't just spin kicked me in the face, knocking me to the floor.

This isn't the first time today I've found myself on my hands and knees, and it probably wouldn't be the last. I've been working with Master Hi for two weeks already, and have yet to land a blow or manage to stay standing for more than ten minutes at a time. That really wasn't the point of me being here. Mitchell had tasked this man with pushing all of my buttons, to push me to the brink, all in some misguided attempt to get me to control my anger, my urges.

On the ride to this place in the back of an unmarked white van Mitchell had explained the purpose of this exercise, and of course I'd argued relentlessly. I'd be beaten, tested and pushed as far as my currently frail body could be pushed, all in an attempt to teach me what...to not lose my temper, to not give in to the rage. I didn't have the heart to tell him I hadn't felt rage in months, and my temper was nonexistent. I had absolutely no desire to defend myself at all, to me, there wasn't a point.

Struggling, I find my feet again, regarding this little man with frustration and exhaustion. He uses no weapons, only his hands and feet to kick me all over the gymnasium. The mats on the hard wood floors no longer protect my knees from the impacts, since I'm already bruised and battered from head to toe.

"You have come a long way." Master Hi mutters, watching me waver on my feet.

"That, I seriously doubt." I retort, trying to gauge his next attack.

"You should not doubt yourself. Last week you would not have bothered to stand up." He says, and then in a quick jabbing movement, he lunges forward and nails me right in the diaphragm, causing me to bend over with a whoosh as all the air is forced out of my lungs. I go down on one knee, but he doesn't strike again, which surprises me.

I glance up at him and sigh. He can't be taller than 5'5, is a little on the heavy side and well into his fifties. With my 6'2 frame, overpowering him should be simple, but so far, I've lost every sparring match. Matter of fact, I haven't actually touched him yet. "I told you I'm a lost cause."

"You're problem is that you doubt yourself and you talk too much. Where's that animal inside of you that Mitchell told me about?" Hi pads over to me now and with a gentle nudge, pushes me onto my right hip. "Get up and fight. Why are you letting me beat you up?"

"Who said I was letting you beat me up?"

He bends over and looks me in the face, smiling. "I did."

I scoot back, attempting to get some space between us so I can stand again. I make it to one knee before he calmly spins on his heel and nails me right in the face again, rattling my brain as I drop to the floor on my back.

Son of a bitch.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling. Every part of me hates Mitchell right now. Didn't the Army, Navy, Air Force and Marines have quality control? I didn't think the military accepted my level of pathetic. As it turns out, it didn't matter if they would've accepted me or not. Mitchell had that kind of pull. There were times when I wondered exactly how far his reach extended, as it seemed that there wasn't really anything that he couldn't control...and that made me nervous.

Dealing with Master Hi, who for the past two weeks has been beating me up, forcing me to do tai chi and stupid mediation, has been supremely frustrating.  Hell the only thing I've gotten out of this daily ass-whooping so far was that I had need of my cane or assistance less and less. Reaching up, I wipe the perspiration from my brow before it dribbles in my eye.