Animal

Hold Your Cool

I gently hold the water bottle between my hands, my claws run teasingly along the ridged side. With just a little more pressure, just an insignificant amount, I could puncture a hole and tear it too shreds. I wanted to wear my gloves but Ms. Adams said not too. My muscles are clenched and my back ridged in the chair. I glance up, at the floating camera and reporters, before I look back down again. This is my pre-season interview. Ms. Adams said it was to drive up interest in the up-coming season. It had been a long seven months. Nothing changed...

"Scrappy," I look up again.

Joey is standing beside me with a make-up brush in her hands. I let go the bottle without causing it any damage and turn from the table to her, wordlessly. She steps forward and bends over me, running the brush over my face and bushing my hair out of my face.

"Are you alright?"

My eyes flicker to her face briefly. "What make you ask?" I ask blankly. I really wasn't up for this. I hadn't gotten any sleep last night, per usual, but my body had overheated again. Medical made me sit in a ice bath for fiver hours. Apparently SPGA implants did have side effects, mine was over heating and muscle cramps. Oh yes, who could forget the hundreds of times I had accidentally cut myself?

"You look drained."

I roll my eyes. "Gee, thanks, tell a girl who's about to be televised live that she looks like a mess. That's real nice of you, Joey." I shoot her a weak glare. "And to think I may have actually missed you over break."

She frowns, which wasn't exactly what I was going for. "I mean it," she says, "you don't seem alright."

I start to snort out of my nose in disdain but stop myself short. Of course I'm not alright. Instead of doing that, I smile, which makes her frown harder. "Thank you for the concern, Joey, but I'm fine."

She finishes and steps back, eyeing me like I was threatening to take a running leap off a cliff.

My smile fades and I grit my jaw. I turn away from her, facing forward once again. Whatever, I ignore her. I don't understand why she's looking at me like that. I don't understand why she looks so concerned. Ms. Adams approaches, so Joey exits. The ex-fighter sits in the chair next to me and places her cane between us. Her message is clear. Mess up, and you will be punished.

I swallow a growl and focus ahead of me.

The interview begins when Ms. Adams gives the go ahead.

"How do you feel about the upcoming season, Scrappy?" A red head stands asks.

"Uh..." I fold my arms over one another on the table. "I'm excited, I mean... its been awhile since I've had any good Fights. I've... missed it," I lie. How could someone miss what I do?

"And how is your training going?" The same woman asks. "You haven't had any good spars?"

I smile a fake smile easily. "I can't go into specifics about training, obviously." I shrug. "But... I think I can say..." I glance at Ms. Adams, mostly for show, I wasn't going to say anything I wasn't suppose too. "Fighting robots can get a little haywire at times."

The woman and the other reporters find what I said funny and laugh. She sits down and a man stands up right away.

"Over the break, you received an SPGA implant... tell us about it."

I shift in my seat and bit the inside of my cheek. I look down at the claws and hold them up. "Its hazardous," I smirk, " not sure how much to others, but I've scratched myself a million times already. I can't retract them at all so I have to be careful all of the time."

He smiles. "They look very dangerous indeed, Scrappy, very dangerous." He chuckles.

"What advice would you give to the new rookies being accepted into the program next week?" Another reporter asks.

I keep my smile. I'm actually surprised at how good I am at keeping it. What advice would I give to new rookies? Run. Run before you're trapped forever. Run before they make you do something horrible. Run far, far away. But then, I would say, you can't run. You're trapped. Give up. Its over for you. "I would say... don't jump through any rotted floors. It hurts when you hit the ground below. But no really, I guess... I would say, always have more than one plan?"

"That's good advice for anything." The man says. I nod numbly, still smiling.

"Miss, Armstrong..." Another man stands and trails, pressing his lips into one another.

"Mr..." I trail with an amused smile.

"Oh, my name is Lester, Lester Barn, Miss Armstrong."

"Mr. Barn..." I say in greeting.

He smiles, but its faker than mine and filled with impatience. "You're old trainer, Oliver Armstrong, was arrested eight months ago for the murder of Benson Hues and convicted." I freeze and throat tightening. "My question-"

"I don't think I can talk about that." I say quickly, my mask beginning to shatter. I try holding onto my smile though, but it twitches and wobbles all over my face.

The man shakes his head. "I... looked over the list of unacceptable questions and questions pertaining Oliver Anderson and Benson Hues were not on the list."

I clench my jaw. My heart pounds against my ribs. "That... Those things... they have nothing to do with... with..." I take a shuddering breath, "my fighting..." I breath out of my nose.

"But Oliver Anderson was your trainer an-"

"I said, I do not want to talk about it!" My mask shatters and I growl like the animal I had been turned into. "Damn it, are you deaf?" I snarl. I stand and slam my hands down on the table, my pent-up anger over-boiling. I can't control myself. "I-"

"Scrappy," Ms. Adams says calmly, but I make out the angry undertone in her voice. I freeze.

I look down and swallow another growl.

Ms. Adams stands. "Seems as if we're going to cut this short," She grabs my arm and I have to fight the instinct to turn around and attack her. "Come, Scrappy..."

Out in the hall Ms. Adams backs me into the wall, her cane shoved underneath my ribs. I close my eyes tightly, claws digging into the wall. I hold my breath and keep my face emotionless. Ms. Adams stares at me with dark, unhappy eyes. I avoid looking at her.

She removes the cane from my ribs without pressing down on them as she normally would. She places the cane back onto the floor and turns away. She starts down the wall...without doing anything.

My stomach sinks as I watch her move down the hall. She isn't punishing me now, which meant...my punishment would come later. Throat tightening, I force myself to swallow. I push myself off the wall and quickly move after her.

"I'm sorry..." I blurt when I catch up to her. She keeps walking, "Ms. Adams..." I hate the desperation in my voice, but I don't want to go back into the 'room'. That's what she's going to do, that's why she didn't punish me with her cane. I just bought myself more time in the 'room'. "Ms. Adams!" My voice quivers. I cannot handle another minute trapped in there.

I just can't!