Other Angels (1/4)

Three: Punishment

Trainer Prescott's cold blue eyes flit from Nikolas to me. I try not to flinch. Trainer Prescott just has that effect on everyone. He's an intimidating man, only three years older than me, but he is a soldier to the core.

"Soldier Somerset," Trainer Prescott growls. "Why did you punch Soldier Nikolas' nose?"

I force myself to straighten up, lift my chin up, and try not to cower under his cold and calculating blue gaze. "S-Sir... He slammed into me purposely, and when I asked why-"

"You didn't ask why, Somerset. You screamed at me-" Nikolas says loudly, but I cut him off and throw him a death glare.

"My point is, Trainer Prescott, he slammed into me to get my attention," I say, mentally counting to fifty to calm my nerves. I catch Mercedes' eye and give her a small nod or she'll start having an attack. God, if they find out Mercedes has anxiety issues, they would-

"Soldier Somerset, I expect better from you," Trainer Prescott says through gritted teeth, snapping me out of my thoughts. "How many times do I have to repeat myself before you truly, truly get it? Control yourself."

Nikolas seems to be mocking me with his dark eyes. Silently laughing at me. A few soldiers suppress smirks and giggles. Damn them. They're doing an excellent job. They know it isn't the first time I've got in trouble for my impulsiveness.

"Y-yes, Trainer Prescott..." I say, forcing myself to sound like I actually give a shit and I'm not scared. To be honest, Trainer Prescott scares me a bit. He seems to be like a machine with no feelings and a handsome face.

Trainer Prescott, to my absolute relief, turns to Nikolas. "And what do you have to say for yourself, Soldier?"

Nikolas removes his hands from his still-bleeding nose. "Somerset punches hard, sir," he says. I take a step forward.

"Oh? If you think I punch hard, you have never felt how hard I kick. Want to sample? I-"

"Enough!" Trainer Prescott bellows. "If this you two were in the war zone you'd both be DEAD! Stop bickering like bitches already!"

I fall silent automatically. I want to say something to Nikolas, like, "Your brain is smaller than your ego" but I can't seem to open my mouth. Nikolas is silent, too, is nose still gushing blood, and he makes no attempt to staunch it.

"Soldier Cavallo! Heal Soldier Nikolas' nose!" Trainer Prescott snarls. Kyle Cavallo, a tall, brown-haired fifteen-year-old steps from the crowd, then touches Nikolas' nose with a look of disgust on his face. Nikolas looks just as happy as Kyle, who immediately wipes his hand on his pants the minute Nikolas' nose is healed. Kyle throws a dirty look at me, as if he is saying, "Did you HAVE to give him a broken nose?"

"You both will be punished. During your vehicles class, come directly to this field. I will be waiting for you. You will do a five mile run. Not a five mile jog or a five mile walk. A five mile run. For every time you stop or walk, you will do an extra mile!" Trainer Prescott says savagely.  He draws in a deep breath and shoots me a dirty look.  He turns and walks off. "Get in your positions for your second sprint!" He calls. As if nothing happened.

I stand there, shocked. I've done a ten mile run before, but Trainer Prescott let us jog. My fellow soldiers all whisper under their breaths, some shooting me and Nikolas pitting or sympathetic looks, but most of them snicker or chuckle.

I walk up to Nikolas - like, right up to him. He smells good, like soap and sweat and some cologne. I try to ignore that. Nikolas looks at me, cocking a dark eyebrow. "You do something like that one more time..." I growl. Then I take out my hunting knife that's always sheathed at my waist. "I'll show you how deep I can cut." I violently slam the knife back into its sheath and stomps back to the START line of the indoor track.