Stitched Limbs

Ch: 24 A Fight and A Trip

About 3 months later

I was sipping on a coke and cooling off from my workout, laying on one of the benches in the training rooms. The bench was pretty cool, and so was the coke. You'd be surprised what you can get down here with the right connections. Because for once I wasn't drinking just water or juice from the cafeteria. And I wasn't wearing just some normal workout clothes that Tyn usually gets me, he's actually been handing me something you would normally see on those Yoga tapes. A sports bra and some tight-fitting yoga pants. And the fact most of the skin on my back was exposed was nice. Helped me cool off a lot more than the normal training clothes would, they had a slight problem with letting the skin breathe. And that's kind of a problem when it comes to training and quick movement, especially for something as important as a fight between life and death.

I prop myself up on one of my elbows and take a sip of my coke again, wondering if Tyn had to go through all of this as well. He's vaguely talked on how it was a lot harder for the operations to be done when he was going through the program, but he's never gone into detail about it. Even if I did try to pry, he would just give me an oddly dark look and tell me to go bug someone else. I lay back down and place a hand on my abdomen, subconsciously feeling the large scar that still presided over a good portion of my midriff and back. And wincing as my nails grazed something still sensitive, it didn't hurt as much as those first couple of weeks after he took me off the painkillers. The heavy painkillers a least.

The pain could be felt reverberating through my bones, it was disturbing, and I just wanted to be in a coma until the pain would stop. Whatever it was that Tyn did to me in that fight, it wasn't meant to be something that someone would get to be alive for afterwards. At least that's what Tyn explained to me about it, and I'm pretty sure he was right. He's hardly ever wrong about things like that, especially when it comes to his own abilities. So, it would be a little more than insulting if I didn't believe him.

I feel my body tense slightly as I hear the door open, thinking to myself that it must have been Tyn coming to check on my progress through the little bit of training he assigned me. But, there was something wrong about the persons energy that I didn't recognize, and I quickly figured out why as I heard rushed footsteps coming towards me. My eyes popping open and instantly sitting up, recognizing the red hair of Byul before he takes a swipe at my neck. I barely dodge backwards out of the way, his nails scratching against the front of my throat as I fall backwards off the bench. The breath is knocked out of me, but I recover enough to throw the half empty(and quickly emptying onto me) coke can at his snarling face. He recoils at the sudden impact of the can on his face, and I'm given enough time to stand and get into a defensive position.

I almost get a word of protest out when he tackles me down into the training equipment, one of his hands quickly finding my throat and taking a harsh hold of it. His nails digging into me gives me a slight pause before I snap back to the fight, directing a punch at his sternum and hitting hard enough to get him to let my throat go. But not enough that it would break. Byul coughs and groans from the pain as I kick him off me into a track mill and stand in order to deal a hard kick to his head that he ducks, my leg snapping the metal pole of the track mill and making it topple forward. He grabs my ankle and pulls me off balance, so that I land on my back again and I feel his hand plunge into the meat of my thigh. A cry of pain escapes me, and I feel the wound start to cool rapidly as his fingers stayed in the flesh. Red flags go off in my head and I bring my hand up, extending the nails to long claws and swiping at his hand. He quickly takes his hand out as I almost severe it from his arm, and I swipe at him with the other hand, aiming for his chest this time.