CHAPTER 35

The First Day

You start off doing exercises foreign to your spirit, but not to your body. Gavin coaches you on the side as you go in for your second push up. It's a lot easier than if you were to attempt it in your old body, but it still is going to get real tiring real fast. Fifteen minutes pass and your arms start to buckle underneath you.

"This body may not need to build muscle, but you have to get used to using what you have. That's the downside to these bodies. They have predetermined limits. You can't get stronger than what was designed. A subtle hint of how humanity is handling being not on Earth. Your brain can handle only a finite amount of information. You need to find a way to be comfortable within your limits—and then break them."

"Break them?" You ask, your arms buckling more than the entire state of California. "How am I supposed to do that when you just said my body's got limits out the ass?"

"If I tell you then how are you supposed to grow? I can't give everything away."

You groan and push up. "Five...hundred."

"Good. You're about a quarter of the way there," Gavin says, bending down to eye level. "We still have many things to do today, so I hope your schedule is cleared," he grins.

You take a deep breath and let yourself down, taking in another breath and then pushing up again. "Five-oh-one," and continue forth.

An Hour Later

After your pushups, you've resorted to sit-ups. You don't know which is worse to be honest. You hated doing sit ups in gym, but push ups are looking so bad to you know you think you'd rather jump off a cliff. But you're already feeling exhaustion hit in after only fifteen sit ups, a fact you can tell Gavin knows with the wry smile on his face.

"Come on, you're almost done. Only forty five more minutes to go."

The Second Day

You wake up in a haze, everything around you paints itself as a blur of whites and purples, but then you realize that you're outside—looking up towards the sky. Gavin's sitting out on the grass beside you, looking up at the clouds. "Could you imagine how easy it would be if everything were like this? Just...existing? Boring, sure, but nobody'd fight."

"I'd think it were like a prison, personally. A prison painted with rainbows, kind of like the extra kick in the teeth...Hey! Wait a second! What if we use this place as a sort of prison for Cross? So like we could find a way to contain him so he doesn't hurt anyone else?"

Gavin smiles. "I'm surprised you came up with the idea so fast. It took Roland about a year to ask me that."

"He asked you too?"

"I know this place looks like it'd be the perfect hell for someone so careless about life, but the truth is I cannot sustain this place forever. Especially holding it outside of time that we're in now—it's taking up nearly all of my strength."

"Oh..."

"You see, I could hold him here in theory, and you would never have to deal with him again. But problems wouldn't magically be solved, someone or something else would take his place eventually, and I would be too busy with holding him here that I wouldn't be able to do anything to help if this next problem were worse than Cross. And let me say—not to toot my own horn—but Sayar'd be ash if I hadn't intervened in my small ways over the years."

"That makes sense. Man, this can never be just a one, two solution, can it?"

"Plus...I'm sure you'd like to find some way to reconcile with Alex, am I right?"

The question takes you off guard. "I...I never got the chance to properly apologize."

"I know the feeling. While we cannot seal him away, we can try to see if we can't get you that closure."

"Thank you Gavin," you say.

"Don't thank me just yet. I haven't done anything. In fact, I think you might be saying just the opposite considering what exercises you'll be doing today."

"Should I be scared?"

"Very much so."

Thirty Minutes Later

You run behind a tree to catch your breath, bending over because it is too hard to even breathe. A loud crack explodes behind you as the tree catches aflame. Fireworks crackling of the burning twigs like it is the Fourth of July back on Earth.

Gavin flies in like some superhero, a molten substance in his right hand. "Come on now, Devon! You're going to be in combat sooner or later, and running won't always work." He lets the substance drop to the ground—it bounces and expands like a purplish net of glowing goo. Splashing over your feet like a pool had just been emptied five feet away from you—you cannot move. Your legs are stuck to the goo and it burns at your legs like tiny knives that have each been heated and sinking themselves into your skin. You scream out as your hand rolls instinctively, your anti-gravity activating, lifting you up like a balloon. Faster than you can think you activate your shields—cutting off the gravity and ending the pain as it forms around your feet. You land hard to the ground below, standing on top of the goo, but not feeling it, as if you were in a jar.

"Good, your reflexes can use a little fine tuning, but you do have them, at least." He says, vanishing from view.

"But not ready yet," he says, behind you now.

You turn around too late, he kicks you hard in the back and you fall face first into the goo, loosening the grip on your hand and lowering your shields.

"That one's gonna hurt for a while," Gavin muses.

Five Hours Later

You sit on the grass, never in more pain in your entire life. Even when Gavin was pecking your arms off, you have never been in this much pain. Your left eye has stopped functioning—it only shows darkness. Your right leg has been burned fully to a stump. Your breath stops at points and you really think that it might be the time, but then it starts back up and you close your eyes and just breathe.

"Well, you did a little worse than Roland on his second day. He only lost the arm, but I will say that you did better than I expected!"

"Than you...expected?" You say, barely able to form the words.

"Yeah, for a punk who cries over a girl I'm sure you would have just dropped after the first fireball."

"Listen...I know you're trying to get me mad to provoke me to showing you how unstable emotionally I am. You know—so I can see how much more I have to learn. I'm sure I still have lots to learn, but I can't be unstable right now, I'm too tired. Too..." You say, falling under.

"Hm, asleep already. You've got that up on Roland. He cut me open when I did this routine," He chuckles. "Sleep well. We'll begin again tomorrow."