Endgame (Book 3)

Chapter 16

I wondered what happened between us. Were we even friends, or comrades?

Bouncing my favorite ball from the floor, to the wall, and back to my hand, I waited for the call to head down to the training room.

Every so often, some of the same black-clad soldiers would rush past to go to some super important mission. They had to have their hands full with all the new metas coming out.

Ben was out there right now probably punching people's faces off and imagining they were mine.

Everyone I had observed were broken in some way after I/Zero turned against them. If I could just remember what happened, I would know what to apologize for.

Regardless, the only people who knew what happened were Zero, Ben, and Sage. I could go for Jeremiah, but he didn't experience it the way they did. He was more of a Plan B. Ben might be willing to tell me, but it would take time and work to get through to him.

The cuffs chafed my wrists as I repeatedly moved them to catch and toss the ball. What else did they do besides put a leash on me? I hated them.

"Jay West, please report to the training room."

"Woo-hoo!" I shouted, hopping from my bed in glee. I was getting tired of sulking. Although, I had been so engrossed in my own worried that I hadn't noticed time slip by.

I rushed through the hall and slid into the room, excited to be able to train with so little waiting time.

There were lots of taken lifting equipment and treadmills in this room. The white interior designs were slightly different than the rest of the facility. It was made of a shiny, white plastic that gave the room a futuristic feel.

I wandered between people doing power lifts and squats to look for my instructor. I assumed he would be somewhere over there.

"Wrong way, West!" A loud, but gruff voice called to me from across the room.

Some of the people stopped what they were doing to sit up and look at me. Others snuck quick glances in or tried to get their partners' attention back.

I probably should've known all of these people by name. They certainly seemed to recognize me. What if I used to be a regular here?

I headed over to the source of the voice that had reached out to me.

No, way.

My instructor was a girl?

I stifled a laugh as I took in my new teacher. Dressed in loose-fitting jeans and a black shirt, she stood a little taller than me and looked like she was around my own age. Her straight blonde hair was done up in a ponytail. Her hip cocked to the side, her hands on her waists, she almost reminded me of Cassie when she was getting serious about something.

I faltered. Oh, Cassie. When would I get to see her again?

"Why the long face, West?" she said. Despite her appearance, she sounded nothing like Cassie. She nearly sounded like a man. "You might remember me as Ashley. I trained you before you lost your memory."

"You're kidding," I said.

"Nope. I'm the real deal."

"But you can't be out of high school."

"I'm not. So what?" She shrugged. "I'm not even a metahuman. But that didn't stop me from teaching you how to kick butt. From what I hear, you took down your whole team single-handedly. Who do you think taught you that?"

"You?" I guessed.

"Absolutely," she said. "Though, it didn't turn out too well. You aren't even the real Jay West."

Her last line rang out and echoed across the room. I checked my surroundings to see if anyone noticed.

"You're loud," I observed.

"And you're weak," she retorted. "Now, this is how every day is going to go for you from now until the unforeseeable future: I'll tell you to do something, and you do it. Understand?"

"Okay," I said lightheartedly. She couldn't be serious.

"Great. Do fifty push-ups. We're starting out slow."

"Do what now?" I asked, surprised.

She repeated her statement.

"But this has nothing to do with my powers," I argued.

"I'm the only metahuman training expert you have right now. I know everything there is to know about how to get you in tip-top shape. Are you honestly questioning me?"

"Not really. I just don't know if I can do fifty push-ups," I confessed. I would probably give out on thirty-five.

"Time will tell," she said. "So get in position. Now."

I reluctantly trudged over to a mat and got down on the ground, putting my arms below me in a straight position, my toes pointed straight down.

I felt a huge pressure on my butt, and I turned my head to look back.

"What are you doing?" I said in alarm.

"Your butt was too high," she explained.

She waited until I was ready, then told me that she would count manually while I did the exercise.

I was already exhausted just by retaining the same position for so long. When she began, I knew I wouldn't be able to make it to fifty.

The first ten required little effort. I did them with a simple twist of my arms.

The next ten were a little more difficult, but I did them with only a little strain in my chest muscles.

On thirty, it felt like my triceps were going to burst. I consciously regulated my breathing and tightened my abs to help me rigidly freeze my body's pain capacity.

Forty was a struggle. My arms were shaking on every upward and downward motion, and I took breaks while waiting for her to say "down" again. My breaths came in ragged and I thought about giving up.

When she reached forty-five, she decided to give me a harder challenge and sit on my back.

In all honestly, she wasn't even heavy. But she was the pebble needed to bring down the mountain.

I crumpled to the floor in a messy heap. Sweat dripped from my skin and onto the mat, soaking in and coloring it a darker blue.

"Forty-six," she finished.

She sighed. "If you aren't the weakest punk I've ever laid eyes on..."

"Shut up," I growled.

Ashley smiled cheerily in response. "Alright, so that's it for the push-ups. Shall we move on to curl-ups?"

I rolled over onto my back, a groan escaping from my lips.

"Damn you, Jeremiah," I cursed under my breath.