Chapter 5: Training

At that little two bedroom one bath, the outside was quiet, while the inside was the complete opposite.

My dad had set up a makeshift boot camp in the living room, extending our into the backyard through a slide-open glass door.

He is currently screaming orders and encouragement with a smile on his face, like he was in the middle of an amusement park, well now I know what he was doing with his life in his early twenties.

My father was like a drill sergeant from hell by the end of the evening I was covered in dirt, cuts, my skin was cracked from heat, feet with blisters and I felt like both of my legs are gonna tear something at all moments. We had just gone through a 10km hike through a desert, we drove all the way to the nearest desert and hiked! What the hell is wrong with this man, who hikes until eight in the evening and practically sleeps in a epsom salt baths damn near every night. He's slowly turning me into him because this is actually kind of fun.

After that we have more training. CQC training so I don't get my ass handed to me by someone who knows what they're doing, so that I can be the one who knows more and is practically a god of strategy and foresight. Those were literally his words no bullshit. I'm going to die.

We arrive at an association funded gym where everything we could possibly want here is free and you can be here all day. My type of establishment. We put wraps and gloves on and faster than I could say onomatopoeia, my dad was punching me in the nose. Him yelling," Cmon man you've got to find openings on me, I don't care don't hold back believe me I can take it."

Personally I took that as an insult.

He was fast as shit and had like three weight classes on me. All I can do is try so I put my hands up. I tried to stay in a pocket when getting haymakers from all directions and I know he's going easy on me because if he has enough strength to lift a car he has enough strength to knock a 130 pound kid off his feet.

I definitely know he's going easy on me when I get a nice shot on his side, and he winces like he even feels it, opening up his stance where I can slip a fist through his hands hitting him in the nose, which he eats like it's his third breakfast snack.

"Nice form and to be honest that kind of hurt when you got me flat on the nose, I wasn't expecting dexterity like that from you. I'll have to turn it up a notch just for you."

He then flies around me faster than my body can react I try to turn as fast as him because my mind is fast enough due to my reflex stat but my body isn't as fast as he is because of my low agility stat. He sneaks in a rib shattering hook to my ribs and when I mean rib shattering I mean he literally broke my ribs.

The next thing I see is the mat after I hear a low pitched snap. I sit there in agony as I look up at my dad who is sitting there with his hands on his hips seemingly waiting for me to get back up from broken rib.

Suddenly another wave of pain shoots through my ribs. A pain like hot coals and burning cold, as well as the pain of flesh tearing from the bone.

My ribs were setting themselves back into place and my displaced muscle was stitched back into place, my bruised or otherwise damaged organs were repaired and put back into their proper place.

[Adaptation Acquired: Superhuman Regeneration(C)]

"Well that's new".

"I was waiting for that to kick in, I guess enough stimulus is usually what is needed in almost all experiments, basically I strategically pushed for you to evolve".

"So what percentage of your power was that because that's insane, what is it 70-80 percent?"

"No, more like 30-40 percent power for a frame of reference if I hit you with one hundred percent power it would be like getting hit point blank by a cannon which were popular blasting people's bodies in half in the civil war".

"So basically you would have erased my entire top half if you would have hit me at one hundred percent".

"More or less".

"Regular heavy weight punches are only ten percent of my punching ability."

"Let's go back to that please".

"Alright if you say so".

I was getting hit with hooks, jabs, uppercuts and straits. I was getting put into holds all day and doing some proper grappling training which from his words was," It's a real bitch if you get stuck in a hold and have no idea how to get out of it and break your arm because you're an idiot, so do your grappling training".

Yeah that seems like sound evidence. So next I'm doing Brazilian Jiu Jitsu until my arms, legs and core feel like they want to shed off my body every day after school and then once I get that down we'll be going into useful martial arts like krav maga, muay thai and kickboxing, then after that we would go into street fight prevention and street fighting.

.....

It's Thursday and tomorrow is the party. For the past few days I've been busting my ass and my strength and agility have risen by two points each.

Strength -> 13

Agility -> 15

Today is also the day that we go and talk to one of Dad's friends.

The car ride is egregiously long to his house, it must have been out of state because we had been on the car ride for what seemed a few hours which is about right, by my dad, which I don't know if he telling the truth, he might as well be though doesn't make much of a difference.

When we got there it was a regular town home with two floors, very pretty house.

We go up to the door and knock, saying "Logan, open up, it's that time of day!"

I hear groggily from inside,"Drinking time?"

"No time for you to teach my son anger management, you idiot".

"Hold your horses, I just woke up ya dick".

I see the door open and a guy with a full black beard and a uneven block of dirty brown hair steps out into the doorway as he says that. He beckons us into his very nice town home, where the inside is not so clean as the outside, beer cans piled in a corner of the room, liquor bottles stacked high on the table in the middle of the living room and a well worn chair.

"I see you haven't lost your 'edge', Logan".

"Nope and never will ,Thomas".

Logan clears the living room table of bottles as we make ourselves welcome on his ample couch, before I sit down wincing before I pull a piece of shattered glass out of my ass.

"So Logan, Chris knows about the association, the wesen, he knows what he is, and his anger has been a problem for his entire life. Now that he has evolved into a Grimm we need to have a hold on his anger or he's going to kill someone".

"I understand", says Logan with a stern expression, slightly twisting his mustache in thought.

Turning to me, my dad says in a smooth tone," So, Logan is neither a Grimm or a wesen, but the association puts him under that class. Anyway he's what we call a mutant, a human who has a dormant gene that activates during a traumatic experience. So not born into it like a wesen or, when it happens randomly like a Grimm, he's something completely different. Each mutant has a different power based on the trauma they experienced to activate the mutant gene as well as how their genes are mapped. Logan's powers are metal claws caused by an experiment, and an insane healing factor. He also tends to be much stronger than the average person".

I look at Logan again in a new light I take in all his features, his height around 5'7, his toned body built for strenuous activity, his scraggly hair and sunken eyes. I notice the scars on the back of his hands, three small lines with tons of scar tissue and an abnormal amount of veins in his forearms.

"How much does it hurt to y'know-".

"Pull out my claws? A ton, but you get used to it. My claws can tear the door off of an armored truck so I'd say it's well worth the pain".

"Well let's get to it".

I feel an insane pressure. The type of pressure when you're standing in front of giant, hoping and praying he doesn't stomp you into a fine paste. I notice I stop breathing and my heart beats one hundred miles an hour. Logan looks like a demon as the air around him visibly warps and the seat under him starts sizzling, the color drains from my face as I feel I'm about to pass out. Then Logan promptly punches me in the face, I'm bout tired of getting punched in the face.

Unexpectedly my dad grabs Logan by the wrist and throws him through the front door like a ragdoll. The anger on his face climbs to a climax as he looks scarier than Logan could ever be. The heat radiating off his body is making his clothes steam and dry out.

"What do you think you're DOING!!"

"I knew I shouldn't have attacked the child of the Boogeyman of the Association, that was stupid of me, I don't mean to start a fight".

"Explain yourself". The heat and rage I see from my dad immediately close off, like shutting off a dam in monsoon season.

"I was trying to gather how your son reacts to killing intent, and we've got a long way to go."

"Well I guess thats a good reason to put killing intent on him but not to attack him".

"Yeah I got that now, I'll turn it down a bit".

He picks himself off the ground as well as chips of wood out of his shirt and back.

"Why did you throw me through my door?That was a good door."

"Would you have had me throw you through a wall then?"

"No comment".

"Let's get to the actual training, alright?" I say, kinda freaked out by their crazy display of power. Like how my dad threw a man through a door and how that same man didn't have a scratch on him.

"What the kid said!", exclaims Logan as he walks in through the remains of the broken door.

We sit in a circle, our legs criss-crossed in the middle of the floor, knees almost touching.

"Now close your eyes, and imagine a place in your mind that brings you at ease".

I imagine being in a warm embrace of a woman, I can just barely see her smiling face and blazing red hair. I believe that's my mother, but whenever I mention my mom to my dad he's always closed off. Saying that we will talk about it when I'm ready.

Despite my dad's cold shoulder, the feeling of the memory is nothing but the stalwart love from a mother that never changes. A smile creeps up on the edges of my lips.

"Now that you're in that place, establish a regular breathing interval, in and out, you know the deal".

Going into that I sink deeper into my mind as I feel as though I physically feel her embrace.

"Now, imagine that thing is ripped away from you, violently, this memory, this place in never to be seen again, you can think about it, you can't see it, all that is left is anger and a deep feeling of loss in the center of your chest."

I feel a almost overwhelming sense of of cold as my mother is ripped away from me never to be seen again, never to be held, never to be felt, ever again.

All I feel is an overwhelming sea of anger, so deep and so wide it seems like it goes on forever, the feeling is so strong that I feel I'm about to burst if I don't get her back. A deep feeling of loss weaves into the anger increasing it almost one hundred fold.

Then all I see is black.