Two men in hazmat suits come in through the door carrying a brand new punching bag. Hazmat suits? Why are they wearing hazmat suits? The punching bag looks identical to the original one - black with a red stripe in the middle.
THUD!
"Here you go sir, brand new punching bag." The rhythmic, mechanical hiss of a respirator echoed inside the hood, making them seem more machine than man.
They huff whilst wiping off the sweat from their forehead as if they'd ran a marathon.
"Very well," the instructor says, "you two are no longer necessary."
It's a blur, a fluid, practised motion, the kind of muscle memory that only comes when you have done it a thousand times. There's no hesitation, no shaking of the hand, and certainly no warning. The black matte finish of the semi automatic catches the light of the gym for only a fraction of the second before leveling it at one of the hazmat suits.
It's a gun.
His narrow eyes didn't even flinch. Just the cold stare stays default - as if it's a mask.
The sound of leather against metal is the only warning we've received. It's a dry, sliding sound that penetrates the whirring of the delievery men's respirators. Its like a predator preparing to attack his prey. My ears track the click of the safety pin being thumbed off. It sounded like a bone snapping. A loud sound in a quiet room is threatening.
9mm. Polymer frame. Suppressor ready barrel with a silencer.
He isn't bothered by the noise. He's holding the gun in a professional manner.
This man. Must've been no ordinary man.
Clearly this wasn't his first gig.
I let my eyes gaze over, making my breath hitch to make it seem I'm having a panick attack. My heart rate increases rapidly. I have to flinch. But if I flinch to early then it seems I saw it coming which I guess I can say I have good eyesight which could be believable. On the other hand if I flinch too late then my emotions would seem like an act. I think hard about this. The best option would be to place my head in the palm of my hands and start bawling. When you cry, people dont question you. If I have my head in my hands, I can sneakily watch the play unfold.
Puff. Puff.
The silent cough of the gun went off. Twice.
Two muffled thuds follow. They went down like sacks of flour, the huffing of their breath replaced with the sudden, deadly silence of a room that had just become a crime scene
The metallic scent of blood mixes with the ozone from the punching bag. It stinks of corpses.
The red stripe on the punching bag perfectly matches the floor - crimson red splatters. It's as if someone spilled ketchup all over the floor.
Why would the instructor kill them? Maybe he was showing an example? Or maybe the delivery men weren't supposed to see us? And why hazmat suits?
The entry hole is small, scorched on the front of the yellow hazmat hood. A tiny dark star against the bright fabric. But the back of the hood is a different story. It's blossomed outwards like a messy spray of red and more red that decorated the concrete floor. The instructors aim is mechanical, way too accurate. Center cranium. High velocity, minimal splash, a clean expansion through the occipital bones.
I force a gag
"Is that… is that his brain?"
Jaxen whispers neverously from the seat to the right of me. I didn't answer though.
I keep bawling in my hands.
My classmates sit in awe, I'm not sure which awe it is though. Wether some are speechless. Or wether some have already witnessed this before. Some started crying, and some started signs of disgust. Some seem unfazed, maybe even smiling.
Whispers gradually faded in.
"Oh my God is he dead?"
"No way this must be a prank right?"
"Instructor would never do this?"
"AuAuAAAAA"
A boy with messy blue hair screams from the other side of the classroom.
"So MuCh BlOoD!!!"
He sobs. His tears look more lifelike than mine.
Another swift motion occurs, a blur to the naked eye. The murder weapon is levelled towards a student, blue hair boy.
"You're drawing too much attention. If you don't want to end up like these unfortunate men then I suggest you keep silent." The instructor states.
"No DoN'T kILL ME! PLEA-"
Puff .
How unfortunate. Toby, I think that's his name, suffers the same consequence as the delivery men. An identical symbol right in the middle of his forehead. Tiny blood splattered through the exit hole.
"I've had my patience with you. If anyone else speaks, I will eliminate the whole class understood." The instructor barks.
I glance to my left to see Sana, tears flow from her cheeks as she's biting her nails. I look at the other students and they're in similar situations - someone biting their lip too hard to hold in her scream that blood oozes out, another pulling their hair out.
I stare at the corpses on the floor, why hazmat suits? My mind races to various different possibilities. If it was a virus, we would all be coughing. If it was a poisonous gas, the instructor would wear a gas mask. I ponder at this predicament. I can't get that word out my head. Hazmat. Hazmat. Hazmat. Hazmat.
I look at the leather of the punching bag. It looks..strange? There's a faint metallic vibration. Then I see it. A small, yellow sticker, half torn. A trefoil symbol. Which means one thing. Radiation.
My blood turns to ice. My heart skips a beat. I'm in a room..that's full of radiation. I swallow my saliva but there's a mettalic taste to it. This is a sign of radiation. I've got an estimate of 30 minutes before I suffer fatal consequences. Unfortunately I don't have an ability that can protect me from this. Only the best of the best can survive. The rest will die.
This must be a test. Survival of the fittest. The gun is just a distraction from the real threat. If I use my full power, I can survive at the cost of blowing my weak girl act. I need to keep my cover at all cost.
I can't run out the door, he will shoot me. I can't warn the others, he will shoot me. Everything ends in me getting shot. So the only way to escape is if I get to the medical ward.
My eyes scan accross the classroom, they scan all my classmates' reaction. Let's see who else notices this. No. No. No. Yes.
Juno is looking at the same thing I was looking at. She's touching her throat and swallowing the mettalic taste. Her eyes wide. I bet she didn't think the foundation would go this far. She will survive though. Her ability is ranked A.
"Now then, we will restart the assessment." Everyone jumps as the instructor bellows, catching them off guard. "Line up in alphabetical order."
We all tremble and form a line.
"Subject #402 come to the front you will start first again because you were a disgrace. Prove your worth or I will eliminate you."
Great. This is perfect for my plan. I force my body to stimulate the first stage of acute radiation poisoning. I let my eyes gaze over. I let my steps become heavy and staggered. Every step forward was like walking into fire with invisible needles dancing on my body. I have reached the bag. I have to punch somewhere between good and bad. I have to make a near pass. I should aim for 33% of my strength. That way I can prove I'm not a waste of oxygen.
I twist my body and launch my fist against the punching bag. Thud.
Instructor's eyes narrow, "you pass."
I let me knees fold. I didn't just fall, I let my head snap back, landing at the instructor's feet. I use a trick he taught me. I bit the inside of my cheek until it starts bleeding and let blood leek through my lips. To anyone watching, my internal organs were failing from radiation.
The instructor reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a walkie talkie. He presses the button.
"I need medical attention Sector 4 Class A."
He puts his walkie talkie back into his pocket.
Surprisingly, medical staff came here under a minute. TwoThey look more robot than doctors. They wear Level A Hazmat suits with glowing blue oxygen tanks on their backs.
"SUBJECT #402 . STATUS: MARGINAL PASS. CONDITION: ACUTE EXPOSURE," a synthesised voice from the lead medic. It was impossible to tell wether it was a man or a women behind the mask.
They didn't bend down to check my pulse. A sleek metallic disk is inserted beneath me and my body is hovering 6 inches above the ground. I keep my body heavy, my head rolled to the side. Through the slit of my eyelids, I saw the medics look at the dead Toby.
"AND THE FAILURE?" The second medic asked, their voice muffled.
"The incinerator," the instructor commands.
I feel the stretcher jerk. They begin to pull me towards the exit, my body floating like a ghost behind them. My eyes track my location, my surroundings, they watch every window I pass, marking the layout in my mind. I feel a sharp jab in my neck but I don't know what it is. My vision got blurry, my eyes are failing me. And soon I blacked out.
I never knew that this would change me , change us. If only I knew back then what I was walking into. Then maybe I wouldn't be in this position.