Chapter 45 – The White Team’s Training Room

Wilson turned around and walked in the opposite direction. He passed by the cafeteria and followed the nurse as she led him to the training room a couple buildings away. They had to walk past the hospital, a building and two dormitories. Then, the nurse stopped in front of a building that was shaped like a dome. It was made of some sort of metal and the light was still on inside. Wilson could hear several yells and when he moved closer, he began to hear the sound of people hitting sandbags or other people. He could hear fire crackling and at the same time water dripping and sometimes splashing.

"You can go in!" The petite nurse said. Wilson looked at her for a little while and then gave his thanks and entered.

Wilson opened the door and entered. He closed the door behind and turned around to see everyone gazing intently at him. Wilson did not think too much about it and walked towards a sandbag at an empty corner far from the entrance.

He looked at the sandbag. It was black and looked metallic but on touch, Wilson realized it felt like a tough person's flesh. Wilson looked to his right at a sandbag that was comfortably leaning on the wall at his right. There were two buttons right beside the sandbag. One was green with an arrow pointing upwards and one was red with an arrow pointing downwards.

Wilson remembered those buttons from his dream where he was married to Alice. He had gone to the gym with his 'grandfather-in-law' and had seen him adjust the weight of the sandbag by pressing those buttons. They inflated and deflated depending on what buttons were pressed. Wilson guessed that that was how he was meant to adjust the sandbag to fit his specifications. He moved towards the wall and pressed the green button twice. Then he returned to the sandbag and hit it lightly. It swayed a little.

"Not enough." Wilson muttered to himself and pressed the green button a couple more times.

He tried to punch the sandbag but his hand did not even touch it before a force repelled his fist. He tried to punch with a little extra force, but his fist was repelled without even touching it. He increased the force of his punch by a little again but ended up with the same result. Wilson finally felt satisfied.

He faced it with a foot in front and another behind. He was finally going to get serious with the black punching bag. He threw a left-handed jab. His hand was repelled without touching the sandbag. He began to throw straight heavy punches on the sandbag but nothing changed. The result remained the same. His fist did not once touch the sandbag, stopping mere centimeters away from the metallic surface. His punches slowly increased in power and his face got more and more serious until it contorted into a deep, furious frown.

*piak* *piak* *piak* *piak*

His punches had finally packed enough power to hit punching bag but it made very little difference. It was barely making contact. The repelling force was surprisingly effective. It slowed down his punches to the extreme until they were less like punches and more like incredibly light friendly punches. You know, the kind of friendly punches one would give a three year old. Wilson noticed but did not give up. He kept trying to increase his punches' effects on the sandbag. He had long reached his maximum speed and punch strength but even then, he kept on trying to increase his punch speed while maintaining the heaviness in each punch. He began to imagine the punching bag as the faces of the three people he hated the most; That noble named Ruthless who tormented him in his dream, that foreign woman who was responsible for the attack of his village in his last dream and finally, the sadistic old man Jenkins who had made it a duty to torment him up both in his dream and in real life. The hatred Wilson had for old man Jenkins could be understood but why were the two people who he had only seen in his dreams also in the list? Even Wilson did not know why, but right now, he could not care less. All that was in his mind was, giving these hated fellows the beating of their lives. Wilson grunted with each punch and soon enough, he began to yell angrily as he threw punch after punch. No technique to it. Just straight punches at the same spot where he imagined their faces to be.

Left, right, left. Right...

Their faces alternated from one to another with every left and right. From Old man Jenkins to Ruthless to the foreign woman and then back to old man Jenkins and round and round in the same cycle it went. With each new cycle, the faces began more vivid and Wilson's anger grew. And with the continuous rise of rage, Wilson's yell became louder and his punches faster and more vicious.

*PIAK* *PIAK**PIAK* *PIAK* *PIAK*...…. *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM*...…

Punch after punch after punch resounded around the training room. The other people in the training room, either they were training or simply chatting or resting turned to look at Wilson as he pounded the punching bag, the repelling force almost non-existent at this point. His yelling had unconsciously transformed from aggressive sounds to aggressive cursing.

"DIE! DIE!! DIE!!! DIE!!!! DIE!!!..." Wilson began to chant with each punch, completely oblivious to the soul-stirring stares from most of the people in the training room. Wilson, who was at the corner stood firm and punched and yelled without care.

"Hey! What do you think you are doing?" A voice yelled.

Wilson's fist paused in the air. His brain automatically replayed all his previous actions which left him slightly stunned. He knew he must have yelled a little too loud. He was also pretty sure whoever yelled was talking to him. He ignored and continued pounding the punching bag.

*PIAK* *PIAK *PIAK*...…

Without the support of his rage, Wilson's punches stepped down a notch.

"HEY! We are talking to you. Did your mama not teach you the basics of respect?" the voice yelled again but seemed closer this time.

Wilson stopped punching and held the swaying punching bag. He turned towards the owner of the voice. He was a five feet tall teenager with a slight mustache and a muscular body. He had tight, white sportswear on that emphasized his muscular physique. Wilson spoke without thinking;

"I'm being lectured by a muscular toddler?"

Somebody burst into laughter but immediately shut up and hid his face when every other person glared at him.

"Do you know that this place belongs to the White team? I know every member of the white team but I have not seen your stupid face before."

"I did not see a notice that says that outside." Wilson said with a frown. This toddler seemed to be looking for an excuse to start a fight.

"You are not a member of the White team. Which means you must have been sent here to spy on us and instill fear in some of my teammates, no?"

"I have no idea what you mean."

"What team are you from?" A lady asked as she took a couple steps forward and stood beside the teenage toddler.

"Yeah!!!" The others agreed with that question. That was when Wilson realized he had already been cornered. They were about ten meters away when they stopped while the teenage toddler and the lady beside him were barely four meters away. He looked at all of them. They numbered somewhere between twenty and thirty.

'Seems like all the teams are filled with teenagers.' Wilson thought to himself. Everyone was eligible for the fight fest and I seemed like they were all in the same age bracket.

'That is good! At least, I know I will be taking on people my age.'

"Did you not hear what we have been saying?" The teenage toddler's voice brought Wilson back to the present.

"F*ck! This F*cker does not even take all of us as a significant threat!" Someone said.

"Let's just beat him up!" A big guy with a boyish look and neither facial hair nor any hair on his head, spoke up.

All twenty-something of them rushed at Wilson at the same time.

Wilson rushed at the teenage toddler. He intended to take him down first since he was at the forefront and was the closest to him. Not to mention, he had mentioned Wilson's mother. He deserved to go down first.