Being Human

Chapter 1

A/N: Sorry for any grammatical errors! i know it might switch tenses sometimes, but that's because I originally wrote it in another tense and I need to edit it better! oh and if you're reading this PLEASE COMMENT!!!! i want to know you're there so 

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or any combination, it motivates me to know you're reading:)

The shrill sound of an alarm clock cut violently through Max’s dreams.  Its high-pitched tones contrasted with the lulling serenity of Max’s subconscious.  Desperately she clung to a world of no responsibilities that is her dream world, where she floats free, but to no avail.  With a groan she rose.

The clock read five thirty,  the sun had yet to come over the horizon leaving Max’s room shrouded in darkness.  With a sigh Max lazily made her way towards her dresser and opened the third drawer where her seven identical work out uniforms laid stacked in an orderly fashion.  Grabbing one she made her way over to the bathroom and threw it on.  She took a moment to look in the mirror.  A girl of about fifteen looked back at her with auburn hair and high cheekbones.  She’s pretty, an asset to have when completing some of her missions, but not overly noticeable,  the kind of face that could blend in in a crowd. Satisfied she’s ready to go, she quickly splashed water on her face and headed out to the hallway.

            The hallway was empty at this point, Max being the only one in need of training on this floor.  The rest of the occupants of the rooms are either authority members, those who pull Max’s strings and keep her on the tight training schedule she’s on, or workers such as chefs or maintenance. But despite its emptiness a sense of claustrophobia enveloped her.  The colors were too vibrant for such a dreary place, the walls are yellow and the carpet red.  Instead of creating a cheery atmosphere which was clearly the intention, the walls remind Max of throw-up and the carpet seems to bleed.  But maybe that was just Max being pessimistic.  However, whether it was just Max’s pessimism or not, the morbidly cheery walls still seemed to press in on her, screaming at her to be happy, making Max feel trapped.  Max hurried on to the elevator and scanned her thumb print, eager to escape the hallway as soon as possible.  The elevator, recognizing her thumb print, opens and took her to the third floor, as is her daily routine.

The doors opened to reveal the training room.  It was a large room with a high ceiling that made every sound echoe.  Punching bags lined the left wall and weights were on the right.  Near the back were sparring mats where her instructor and about five other nameless men stood clothed in his defense apparel.  Not an inch of their flesh was visible, which was a smart move on their part.  When it comes to fighting Max was a force to be reckoned with.

 Max reached the sparring mats and gave a curt bow to her instructor.  He returned her bow.  These are the only formalities needed before her training starts.  One of the fighters made a lunge at her and it all began.

As soon as the first movement was sensed Max’s mind slowed down.  While to anyone else the fighters foot rearing up would be so swift as to be unstoppable it appeared to be moving in quicksand to Max.  She reached out and grabbed it before it caught her in the jaw and twisted it painfully.  A satisfying grunt of agony accompanied this movement but she was forced to let the foot drop as two more fighters advanced swiftly, one attempting a jab to her stomach as another tried to kick her legs out from under her.  In a fluid movement Max performed a backflip, swatting away both attempts of injury as her legs kick up.  With the three briefly incapacitated Max began her offense.  It began with a sharp jab in the gut to one and as he doubled over while before the other can make a move she made a swift kick to his chest.  Coughing he collapsed.  At this point all are more or less wounded and Max made quick work of any who tried to attack in their weakened state.  Finally her instructer rose and flashed the symbol of surrender.  Max allowed a brief smile, though her victory came as no surprise.  She bowed in respect.  At this point her five opponents limped off the mat and to went retrieve water and nurse the wounds inflicted even in their defense suits.  Max was left to continue her last half hour of morning training by herself.  She made her way over to the punching bags and began to work, punching and kicking an jabbing at hyperspeed.  She did this for the remaining hour and never tired.  If anyone were watching they might say it almost looked inhuman.