Trace

Twenty-Four

A clap of noise woke M. His body ached, knots forming in places he didn't even know existed, racking his body in a dull, burning pain. Groaning, he rolled over, stretching his arms. It didn't help release his seized muscles, instead causing them to protest. The last few days had been brutal, full of unchoreographed fighting in Pyg's hope that they'll be ready for the next big fight. The thought sent bile swirling in M's stomach. He glanced at the clock.

06:03.

Great. He'd been awake for three minutes and already he felt like he'd crawled through hell.

Running a hand through his hair, he was glad Aron hadn't tried to start up conversation again. A look here, a grunted "Thanks." was all he now graced M with and that was fine with him. He still felt slightly guilty about breaking his nose.

Speaking of which...M moved his eyes up to Aron, who stood hunched over the sink, his back facing M. A thin strip of tape ran along the bridge of his nose, keeping the bones in place while they healed. Pyg had explained during the orientation tour that, while the healing pills could heal flesh within hours, it took a few days for bones to heal properly.

Aron's gaze shifted down. "What?" He spat out, his voice laced with unhidden venom.

"Oh, hi again. Are you finally ready to talk to me? Gotten over your little hissy fit?" M knew he shouldn't have said it but Aron's voice removed any guilt he had been feeling in an instant.

Growling, Aron raised his hand and pointed it at his nose. "Have you forgotten you're the pinhead who did this too me?"

M flinched as if he'd been hit but Aron didn't back down. "I was insulted so many times the other night, people saying that I deserved to get beaten up by a weakling like you! They laughed at me, hit me in the arm, mocking "Oh, poor baby! Gonna go cry to your mama because the new weakling beat you up?" Well, guess what?"

Aron was rounding on him now, his face flushed red in anger. M backed up, his back hitting the closed door while he raised his arm's defensively. Adrenaline pumped through his veins like liquid fire, burning his muscles as Aron closed the gap, his fisted hand raised above his head.

"I'm gonna prove them wrong! Every single one of them!" Aron slammed his fist down into M's stomach. The air in his lung's rushed out and he gasped, clutching his abdomen. A bruise was already forming as he gritted his teeth and struggled to breathe.

"What are you gonna prove by beating me up?" He choked out, his lungs failing to pull in oxygen.

"Shut up!" Aron yelled and slammed M against the door.

A tiny, almost inaudible click sounded, a noise that relieved M more than anything else in the world.

The door slid open behind him and he stumbled into the hallway, coughing in an attempt to breathe. He braced himself on the wall behind him, chest heaving as Aron glared at him. A few of the other soldiers rushed forwards and forced him back into the room, closing the door behind them. M could hear them telling him to quit it.  Another asked him if he was alright. He nodded through gritted teeth, hissing as his fingers brushed over the bruise. The soldier said something about getting him a healing pill, before rushing off, leaving M in the silence of the hall.

Aron had gone silent in the other room, except for the occasional yell of frustration. M slid too the ground, banging his head back on the wall as he finally aught his breath. The sliding noise of a door opening caught his attention, breaking the silence like a gunshot. A shaft of silvery light flew out into the hallway, similar to the moons light.

Curiosity killed the cat, he thought, shaking his head and rubbing his stomach again. But satisfaction brought it back, his mother's voice sang through his mind.