All around the world, children are dying.
Their agonizing cries pierce the air as their dear parents and friends could only watch, uselessness hovering above them like a plague.

And that is what it's like to them: a plague.

A plague infecting the world's youngest, their ideas for the future close to coming to a complete stop.
The fate of the world lies in their little hands, but with this sickness spreading like wildfire, infertility isn't far off.

The cure has been found, and it's all up to one child. But it's easier said than done.

No one knows where she is or why she's been taken.
It's up to the ragtag group to bring her back and save the people of Tomorrow.

This was the group she’d been given. Called away from a rigorous training routine, toughening several newbies to the force, and this was what she was given in regards to search and rescue. A few men, a couple women. So she’d been told, three men and three women, but at her location, she could only see two. She wasn’t concerned with the missing one, though. She’d find her.

Sheila Engel shook her head. She wouldn’t have to approach them right now, at least. It gave her time to settle down. Tucking in her white tank top, Sheila meandered away from the group around the mess hall table in the corner and sat on the other side, where she’d set a cup of coffee. Army coffee wasn’t the best, but it kept one running a good long while. Flopping down with a huff, she curled a strong, gloved hand around the cup and brought it up. They didn’t have much time to get out and going. A few days, a week at the most. The kidnapped girl had last been seen at the edge of the Amazon just two days ago. That damned rainforest was massive, the largest, still, in the world, even though it’d been cleared so Brazil’s society could expand even more. At least it wasn’t as crowded in the country anymore. And it had to be better than Egypt. No water in sight for miles upon miles. At least if they ran out in the Amazon, they could find more.

The group was talking amongst themselves. She studied them slowly and sipped her coffee. Would they even listen to her? Sheila had dealt with annoyingly persistent rule-breakers and whiners in the past, but had whipped them into shape. Hopefully at least one of them was cut out for the job. The Amazon was no laughing matter. Not all of it had been mapped, nor visited, even though it was 2102. One would think that, with satellite imaging, they could do much more.

She looked around as someone sat on the other side of the table. A superior of hers. The one that had given her the group. “Good luck with them.” he said. “A couple are really well cut out for long-distance runs, lifting heavy objects, and going a good long while on little sleep.”

“I’d rather all of them be.” Sheila muttered. Her voice was a bit hoarse, damaged a long time ago. “Where’s the last one?” She asked. “I only see five.”

“She’s around.” The older man said. He patted the table and stood. “I’ve got my trust in all of you.” He said. “We can’t delay much longer.”

“I know!” Sheila set her mug down and stood. “I’ll beat them senseless if they start bitching at me.” She lowered her voice. “But I’d better have a diamond in the rough.”

“You’ll polish them up.” The superior said. “That’s what we did with you, after all.”

He laughed, punching Sheila’s arm. She rolled her eyes and sat back down, propping her heavy brown boot on the bench in front of her.

"It will do some good, Vega."

"It's something like a little vacation, Vega."

"The fate of all the children is in your hands, Vega," she mocked as her heels clacked through the building. Her long auburn locks swayed a little bit as she walked, earning quite a few stares from a few guys. Despite all the attention she was getting, she didn't want to be part of the group, but her father practically forced her to go. "Just be thankful you aren't a child anymore, Vega. Otherwise I wouldn't let you go on this trip," were the last words her father spoke to her before he literally pushed her into the plane, which brought her to where she is now.

"If he really cared about me," Vega DuBois started, "then he would not have let me go on this uber dangerous trip, where an antagonist is, obviously, involved in." She crossed her arms as her emerald green eyes scanned the premises. She quickly went through the directions she had been given earlier and continued on her way.

"'But no. He had to send her only daughter, the heiress of DuBois enterprises, into this search and rescue for a girl who may not even exist!" Vega spied some people and rolled her eyes at the looks on their faces. "It will bring a good name to the company, he says."

She stopped her muttering as she found the entrance to where the group she was assigned to supposedly were. Exhaling loudly, Vega made sure that her white blouse and skinny jeans were in order. Looking her best was one of the things she did best.

Vega then opened the door, her eyes taking in everything and everyone that was there. There were three men and two other women; she guessed that she was the third. "Umm... Hey there?" She asked, one eyebrow raised as her greeting was met with confused looks.

Sheila had acquainted herself with the rest of the group. Hopefully they’d be useful. One young lady was named Eliza Wells. She and her older sister Tammy looked a lot alike. Red hair, cut in a bob, short, luckily. Thin but muscular, wearing the same blue tee-shirt and darker blue jeans. Casual. The oldest man was forty it appeared, a man named Robert Rizzo, and he seemed to respect Sheila for her strong being. He was probably a bodybuilder at one time, and still had those muscles. His black hair was graying at certain places. His was an army jacket. One younger man, Adam Grant, around Sheila’s age of thirty, had windswept blonde hair and light blue eyes. He looked to have been outside a good amount of his life, and a strong upper body signified a swimmer or runner. The last young man, about twenty six or seven simply called Benny, was dark haired, dark eyed, and dark skinned. He had a bit of a serious look on his face and a chain belt on his pants.

Sheila didn’t choose favorites. Although she was glad they were athletic and possibly ready for the course they’d go through the next five to seven days. She stood and was about to speak to the others, asking where the third woman was, but when the door opened to her right, she appeared. Long hair. Pure white shirt. Horrifically tight jeans that looked to cut off blood flow. Well, Sheila thought, hopefully the girl is strong and more tolerant of dirt than she seemed at first glance. She stepped forward with an outstretched hand. “Hey there!” Sheila said. “I’m Engel, Sheila Engel. We’ve been waiting for the last person on the team. That’s Eliza and Tammy, Benny, Adam, and Robert. We’ll be on the tactical search and rescue team headed into the Amazon in a week.”

"The Amazon? Are you joking?" Vega asked, her voice raising a pitch. Realizing what had come out of her mouth, she then put on an apologizing look, claiming that that was not what she meant. 'The Amazon: wet, muddy, frizzy hair, not to mention my makeup,' she thought. Crossing her arms, she then made yet another mental note about her insufferable, intolerable, incompetent father, and forced a smile on her face.

"Oh joy, a week in the Amazon? That's great! Which is totally what I meant." Trying to hide the horror in her voice, her eyes then scanned over the group again, pairing them up with the names. 'Hmm... Another redhead like me, although hers is awfully short. Nothing like my long locks. Then there's a guy who's totally in his forties. Anyone can see the gray in his hair. It's obvious that all of them are pretty muscular...' She thought, keeping eye contact with each and every one of them.

Vega then took notice of the first person who dared to come up to her. "Umm... Nice to meet you, Sheila Engel. I'm Vega DuBois, heiress of the DuBois company." Those words seemed empty right after they escaped her lips, which made her cringe a little bit inside. 'These people don't care about titles, stupid!' she thought, spying the looks on the other's faces.

Sheila cringed inwardly. She hadn’t wanted to judge the girl on her appearance, but it was obvious this little girl didn’t quite like mud, rain, or ruining her precious appearance. The fact that she was an heiress just dampened Sheila’s already-stormy mood. She’d probably never worked hard a day in her life. What was she even doing here? Did some sadistic bastard make her come? Did he know Sheila’s job would be even tougher with her here? She melted a little with disappointment.

“I think you heard wrong.” Sheila said. “I’ll clarify: We’re spending a week here on base to train. We’ll be put through massive mental and physical training exercises. Afterward, we’ll be put in the Amazon for however long is necessary to find the girl and her captors.” She studied Vega and jammed a hand in her pocket. “Unfortunately, there are some codes we’ll need you to follow.” She pulled a wet wipe out from a plastic bag. “Clean your face. And standard hair length is at least to your shoulders, no more. After we’re done here I’ll escort you to the barber, he’ll cut your hair to standard length.”

She turned. “Get to know the others. We head to the training grounds in thirty!” At that, she stepped away. There were a few calls to make on her radio.

Vega's facade broke at the sight of the wet wipes. "Are you kidding me?" She muttered under her breath as Sheila left. The hand holding the wet wipes balled into a fist as she turned back to the rest of the group. Taking another deep breath, she marched to the restroom, avoiding eye contact with everyone else.

"Why am I here?" She asked herself as she proceeded to take off what took hours to put on. With her own makeup remover. "I haven't done anything wrong, I donated to charities, I even put up with father's stuffy 'friends'!" The foundation washed away to reveal a light sprinkling of freckles. Freckles that reminded her father too much of her mother.

Deciding to keep the mascara, and hoping that Sheila would not notice, Vega walked out of the restroom. She had managed to put her hair up in a manageable bun. Sighing, she thought, 'I hope they don't get to cut my hair. Please don't let them cut my hair...'

Joining the others, she noticed again that they were pretty muscular. Nothing like her tall, thin stature. 'This is not going to go well,' Vega thought, biting her lip. "Hey there," she greeted herself again to the rest of the group, thinking about how easy it was to just greet other people much like her. The awkwardness in the air was so tangible that she could feel it. And that is not good.

"Is there a reason why we have to cut our hair?" The question popped out of her lips before she could think about it.

"Just do it!" Sheila almost raised her voice too much, gaining a glance from the others across the room. A click sounded through her radio, and a voice said "Okay, we're alone. What's so important?" A man's voice.

"I can't believe you. You just screwed us so bad!" Sheila's hand was gripped almost too hard around the old radio's body, and her voice low, hissing. "Give me some untrained guys and girls and add in a spoiled little heiress to the mix? She's too thin, like a stick! She'd be broken!"

"Looks can be deceiving." The voice said. "She might be stronger than you think!"

"She's a girly girl. Makeup, long hair, perfect clothes, the whole intolerable deal!" Sheila sighed. "But... I'll get back at you. Oh, I'll get back at you, and you won't even see it coming! Sleep with one eye open, Marcus." She clicked off her radio before the voice on the other side could reply and put her head in a hand. Perhaps he was right. She could be quick. Quick on her feet, useful in certain situations. But had she done anything terribly rigorous in her life? Sheila would be putting the group through her own standardized tests, all five to seven days, before they departed from the base, all day save mealtimes and two fifteen-minute breaks.

When Vega came back, Sheila didn't quite notice before she demanded why they had to cut her hair. Sheila stood and approached her. "Because hair like this---" she grabbed a handful "---can be caught in trees, and by pursuers. If you didn't look around earlier when you were coming here, all the women on base has hair at least to their shoulders, or shorter. No, you can't just put it up in a bun. Mine reaches my shoulders exactly, and put up like this---" She shook her head "---makes it safer."

She turned to face the rest of the group. "All right, let's keep talking as we're headed around base. I'll have a guy escort you to my specialized training grounds near the west end. Vega and I will meet you after we visit the barber." She glanced toward the girl, and saw she still had a dark lining around her eyes. "I hope that's waterproof." She said quietly. "It'll sweat off otherwise. Come on!" She gestured widely, and everyone stood, talking amongst themselves as they left the mess hall. It was almost breakfast time, though the group had been given MREs on their arrival.

Vega closed her eyes and exhaled through her gritted teeth. She did not want to cut her hair; she worked too hard and too long for it to be cut into something drab and short. She shuddered at the word. 'Well, at least she didn't tell me to take off the mascara,' she thought, silently adding that a woman like her would have the best of the best. Of course it was waterproof.

Crossing her arms, she then followed Sheila to the barber, fervently wanting to hold on to her hair. 'This is too much already,' she thought, holding in a sigh. "Wait till Sam hears about this," Vega says under her breath.

"Do we get to call anyone while we're here?" Vega asked. Despite her status and wealth, she isn't much of a texter, so she wondered how people glued to their phones would survive out here without them. "I just want to call somebody," she added, not wanting Sheila to think she had a lot to talk about with anyone. Not that she had a lot of people to talk to.

Sheila led the group out of the mess hall and into the dry heat of the Southwest air. There, she led Vega along and left the rest of the group with a tall man, the tallest on the encampment, with a body to match his height and an extremely deep voice. She and Vega crossed the camp, toward a small temp-building that included air conditioning. Sheila stepped in with Vega and found the barber, a bald man known generally as Snips, cleaning the blades of an electric razor. "Snips!" Sheila exclaimed. "We're in need of your blades!"

"Oh, newbie?" Snips went forward. "New to your group, eh?" Sheila nodded slowly. "Mm-kay..." He went around to Vega's back. "Keep your head still, 'kay?" He pulled her hair tight in one hand, straightening out the curls. With his scissors, Snips cut along an invisible line he'd drawn with his even gaze, and sliced through the long hair. "Done!"

He went around Vega and showed the extension he'd cut. "Perfectly straight." He assured. "An inch above the shoulders, so it's within an inch of the standard female hair length."

Vega wasn't sure if Sheila had decided to ignore her about the call or whether she already got on her nerves, so she decided to keep quiet. 'I wasn't even going to call my father. I wouldn't even want to call him after everything I've been through. And it's only the beginning!' she thought, her eyes widening at the person Sheila called Snips with his electric razor.

As she felt the cold metal of the scissor against her neck, she cringed inwardly. She had to hold herself to stop herself from shaking. Once her ears caught a 'snip', her head felt lighter. Goosebumps dotted along her neck, not used to the sudden blast of cold air. A strangled sigh escaped her lips as her hair fell to the floor.

Vega then looked at Sheila with a murderous glare. "Is there anything else I have to do to fit to your code?" She asked, trying to keep the poison off her tone.

Sheila smiled, though it was difficult not to let it be venomous. "One more thing." She said. "But we'll wait until we catch up to the rest of the group. It doesn't necessarily only involve you."

She waved good-bye to Snips, who returned the gesture enthusiastically as the door closed. They crossed camp again, passing a particular green tent with the number 439 over the flap of a door. "That'll be where you and the others are staying." Sheila said. "Six cots for six people. Your bag's there. And there's a satellite phone on the wall, so yes, you have the ability to call people outside the base. Just don't use it all damn day, eh? You've got bunk mates now, you know."

They went by the latrines. They were self-cleaning, taking away that degrading job from the grunts, at least. Beyond that was a large, long training ground. It involved tire runs, rope swings, a brick climbing wall and various crawling tracks. Monkey bars were near the beginning and the end, and a swimming trench stretched directly in the middle for fifty yards. A bare area devoid of grass rested right in front of it, where her team stood alone, waiting.

"Go stand with the others, I'll brief you all in a moment." Sheila left Vega and went toward the man that had taken over her team's tour.

(( Last post for today! I gotta get up early tomorrow. Blegh... ))

Vega crossed her arms and followed Sheila to the bunk, where all six of them would have to sleep in. Together. Plus, it was bunks, not California King-Sized Beds. Not even Queen-Sized beds!

Just the fact that she had only one bag full of her stuff was another thing completely wrong about this base, even though she wasn't in charge.

Her eyes longingly looked at the phone, itching to call Sam to tell him to get her out of there, and that she isn't meant to be outside the DuBois Estate, tramping in the forests, getting her heels muddied. But as Sheila chastised her for calling 24/7, her gaze hardened. 'I'm not like one of those girls who freaking talk on the phone all day!' she thought, suddenly having a desire to prove to her that she isn't what Sheila thought she was.

But that desire burned out once her eyes caught the latrines, the rope swings, and the brick climbing wall. Especially the brick climbing wall. Biting her lip, Vega then eyed her bunkmates warily as she stepped right next to one of them. 'I think Eliza was her name,' she thought, going through all the names again.

(( Typing all of this made me laugh. XD Probably because I'm not exactly a primadonna in reality. ))

Sheila ignored the obvious discomfort the present agents felt. They spoke among one another a little hesitantly, but seemed to be getting to know one another well enough. “Thanks.” Sheila said to the tour guide. He nodded curtly and turned on his heel, moving away and leaving her to her business. Sheila shook her head, straightening her back and squaring her shoulders. “Attention!” She called. The voices died down and eyes turned to look at her. “Get in line! One solid line, spaced five feet apart!” They did. Sheila’s voice may have been rather hoarse, but it could really catch some air to lift it out of the valley.

“I want no bitching, no complaining, no quitting from any of you!” She called. “You’re here because we’re training to search for the last remaining hope of humanity! In case you’ve been in a coma for the past few years, children are dying all over the world! The only hope of saving these kids lies in our hands! Now, since I’ve been given you to work with...” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “We’re gonna take this week to whip you all into shape! We have one week! We’ll start here, every morning in precisely five-hundred. That’s five in the morning for you who don’t know! We break only for mealtimes and two fifteen-minute breathers! Here on this flat stretch, before the obstacle course, we begin with sit-ups, push-ups, jumping jacks, and stretches to limber you up! If anyone dawdles, we add ten more to each drill!”

She walked down the line. “We go down the course randomly, and all together! I’ll coach you through the course first, and run it myself so you can see the rounds!” She paused as someone approached with a pile of clothes. They were all uniform. A plain white shirt, brown cargo pants, and boots tied at the laces and hung from her arms. “These are your clothes!” Sheila pointed. “Take a shirt, pair of pants, and boots, go to your tent, and change! I want you all back here in five! Go!”

((I liked writing this post because I like being bossy. Sheila's a lot like me sometimes!))

At least Vega was able to follow Sheila's first instructions.

It was just the other set of instructions that she could not believe she was hearing. 'I don't complain that much... right?' She thought, wanting desperately to go back home and in the comfort of her own room, not showing her feelings on her face.

"Now, since that I've been given you to work with..." Vega couldn't help but wonder if she was talking about her. She had been difficult ever since she stepped foot onto the premises. It really isn't her fault, though. 'Blame my upbringing, for all I care!' She thought, taking another deep breath for the sake of containing her anger and despair.

'Getting up at five in the morning' 'Only two fifteen-minute breaks' 'Add ten more to each drill if we (I) mess up...' The words swirled around her brain, marring her focus for only a moment until Sheila handed them their new, ugly, dreary uniforms.

"A plain white shirt, brown... ugh... cargo pants, and these boots?" Vega muttered to herself, her eyes widening at the thought that this is what she was going to wear for, what it feels like, the rest of her short life.

When Sheila told the team to go and change, Vega snapped her head up, then following the rest of the team to the tent. "Are we going to change here, together?" She asked, then looking at the people in front of her stripping as if their life was on the line. Averting her sight, she decided to deal with her heels first before anything else.

Vega was able to leave the tent. Last. Due to her insecurities, she had decided to wait until everyone else had left for her to put on the clothes. Despite how much she took pride in how she looked, there were also some insecurities that she had to cross.

Sheila pulled a stopwatch from her pocket and, as the group grabbed their clothes and went off, she clicked it. Tapping her foot, she chewed her tongue and watched the red hand click around the face. Two minutes. Three. Four. Most had returned already. It was almost five when Vega finally returned. “You almost gave everyone twenty more of each drill.” Sheila said. “Get in line.” She pointed, and pocketed the watch.

With everyone back in line, they looked as though they belonged on the base. “Now that you’re all cleaned up and ready, we’ll start immediately!” Sheila glanced toward where the sun was. “It’s about ten in the morning, so we’re late already! I want twenty toe-touches now! Now! Don’t bend your knees and keep your back straight!” She squared her feet with her shoulders and put her arms out in front of her. “Take on my position and be ready to count! Ready?”

She began. Her back was straight and her knees didn’t bend at all. Her fingers touched her boots, then went back up, pointed toward the sky. It repeated.

Vega had to stop herself from making a face at Sheila. Like it was her fault that she had to wait for everyone to leave so that she could change. Alone. At least she came before five minutes was up. It was moments like this that make her think about what she could really do. She usually takes a while for her to get into her clothes.

'Well, there weren't any distractions. I don't have my laptop and my phone with me. Plus, there was only one choice: a very plain shirt and these ugly cargo pants,' she thought, looking at the rest of the group in their uniforms. Vega realized that without her heels, she was considerably shorter than most of them, which made her miss her heels even more. She felt like a midget.

"Toe-touches?" Vega mouthed as Sheila began. She sighed and then tried to follow her example: squaring her feet and placing her arms in front of her.

But when Sheila actually did the toe-touches, Vega did everything she could to prevent giggles from escaping her tightly wound lips. It was easy. Or so she thought.

"You're not supposed to bend your knees, you know," Tammy slightly chided. Vega looked at her like she was crazy and straightened her legs. "I wasn't bending them," she slightly hissed. At least, she thought she wasn't bending her legs.

Taking a deep breath, Vega began again, this time keeping her legs straight, and not bent, like she was told.

She was able to do it, although not as easily as she thought she did before Tammy had pointed out what she did wrong. 'No big deal, right?' The drill suddenly became tiring and Vega had to think hard about anything else and not give in to the fatigue. She thought about everything from Sam to her beautiful room and back to Sam again. She thought about the Tumblr she had to leave behind and the 'adult parties' she could finally get away from.

(( Hahaha... Tumblr... ))

((Didn’t think Tumblr would exist a hundred years later... I suppose it’s an enduring force!))

Sheila barked for a halt once they reached twenty. “No more talking!” She called. “The easy part’s over!” She surveyed the group. They seemed nice and limbered up. At least, well enough. “Pay attention now! Twenty sit-ups, now!” She sat on the ground. “We all know how to do one, don’t we?” She asked. “Feet together. Knees bent. Boots square on the ground! Hands on the shoulders, they don’t help you! Keep a slightly bent back! Now, count with me!” She began. One. Two. Three. When she could see them, they could see her. Though one or two were quickly winded. “Keep up! Any stragglers and we’ll do ten more!”

Robert Rizzo seemed to be ahead of the rest. He kept up perfectly, and glanced sideways at Adam Grant, situated beside him, struggling a bit to keep up. "C'mon, man." He muttered. "It's only the beginning."

Adam panted on the fifteenth rise. "I'm more... outta shape... than I... than I thought..."

Eliza grunted a bit on seventeen and glanced to her sister. "Not bad." She said. Tammy nodded once in agreement.

Benny was silent. He didn't seem to be focusing on anyone but Sheila, a determined and strong-willed look in his eyes.

((I changed my mind, I added to the post! Haha... ha....))

(( Well, I guess it could be upgraded and stuff. It's a pretty awesome, strong force. Until I get tired of it. Until then, I'm still loving it! XD ))

"First this and now sit ups?" Vega mouthed to herself again, suddenly wishing that there would be someone who could share this horrible experience with her. 'The only sit ups I know are the modified ones, and these don't even look like the ones I used to do back in school,' she thought, looking down at the rest of them who had already gotten to the ground, in position.

'Whatever. If I can do some toe touches, then I can do this,' she thought, getting on the ground. At the sound of twenty push-ups, she blanched. The most she could do was ten, and that was enough for her P.E. teacher. Twenty was like running a mile, which was the worst part of P.E.

Vega kept count for the first few push-ups. Then, she began to slow down since she hasn't fully recovered from the toe touches. She could even see sweat drop from her nose. At the sight of a body fluid she hadn't encountered in forever, she dropped to the ground, completely spent. And they were pretty close to twenty by this time.

(( Oh, and I don't mind if it's short. If it's well-written, then I don't mind. Quality over quantity. :) ))

((I like it for the Pony blogs I read, but that's all. Tumblr, otherwise, doesn't exist to me!))

Sheila jumped up at the end of the sit-up drill. She wasn’t out of breath, nor was she sweating. It seemed she and Robert were the only ones, though. Vega, however, had collapsed before even reaching nineteen. She stalked to the end of the line and stood over her. “You failed.” She growled. “Get up. I want you to do ten extra. I’ll count for you.”

She crouched. “You’ll never survive in the Amazon with this weak body. A week’s not enough, but it’s all we got to get ready. Every time anyone fails...” She looked up to address the others. “... they’ll be penalized with ten extra of whatever they failed to do! Is this understood!?”

Everyone nodded in agreement, muttering their understanding. Sheila stood. “C’mon, Vega, up! We’re gonna get through the drill before lunchtime if it kills us!”

(( Oooh! I found another Pony fan! I think, right? ))

Vega was ready to pounce on Sheila and run the heck out of that base if it wasn't how tired she felt at that moment. She looked at Sheila with an eyebrow raised and blew a stray strand of hair from her own face. 'She's getting on my nerves. And it's only the first few hours...' she thought, biting her lip.

At the sound of ten more push-ups and the point that Vega had a weak body, her anger fueled her to do ten more. She could barely hear Sheila counting over the sound of the blood rushing through her ears. All she wanted to do was get back home.

So, the faster they find the blasted girl, the sooner she would go home.

((Er... *looks at Signature* Yes! Isn't it obvious?))

Sheila stood over Vega at ten. “Good. Now stand up! Jumping jack time!” She went back to the front of the group. “Even the weakest of us can do those, right?” She didn’t indicate anyone, but no doubt Vega would take it the wrong way. Then again, perhaps she did mean Vega...”

She moved to a box and lifted some small items out. Moving down the line, she handed each person two small weights. “Clutch these in your hands.” She said as she did so. “They’ll strengthen your arms at the same time.”

Going back to her place, she held the small weights in her hands. “Twenty jumping jacks! We ready?” She began, counting curtly with each jump. Unfortunately, Sheila had forgotten to wrap her chest this morning. Embarrassment didn’t show, nor did she feel it, but it made the jumps just a little more difficult. It was times like these she wished she’d been born a man.

(( *Peeks at signature even though she has seen it a lot of times already* Whoops! I had totally forgotten about that! You are a Pony fan! XD ))

'Even the weakest of us-I can't believe it! She's obviously talking about me! I mean, look at the other guys,' Vega thought, catching another sidelong glance at their muscular bodies. She resisted the urge to let out another sigh and just went on with it. 'I'm going to prove to her that I'm not weak. I'm just not used to these drills...' As she babbled on in her head, she was handed the weights.

The weights messed with her balance for a few seconds, sending Vega leaning forward a little bit. With another deep breath, she adjusted her grip and pushed all thoughts about how much she smelled, how sweaty she looked, and how tired she felt.

When they started to do the jumping jacks, Vega's mind began to wander as her body worked itself. Her eyes wandered to the rest of the team, who looked like they've been doing those their whole life (they probably have) and then at Sheila, who, obviously, had forgotten to wrap that rack of hers. 'Oh, the problems of the busty,' she thought, stifling the laugh. To be honest, it had lightened her mood, even if it was just a little bit.

Because she knew that everyone makes mistakes.

((To be truthful, I didn't really like it at first... Because I'd never seen it! But now I love it! I even do fanfics and RPs sometimes!))

Twenty jumping jacks. Sheila was glad to end them, and glad she didn’t have to drill with that anymore. At lunch she’d go to one of the latrines and take care of the lack of wrapping under her white sleeveless shirt. “Ohay, people! Last drill before we run the course! Push ups! Get down!” She got onto her knees. “I want your feet square with your shoulders! Keep those knees off the dirt, we’re not doing girly push ups! When you go down, don’t go all the way! I want at least two inches between your stomach and the dirt! Ready!?”

Robert puffed out a breath. “Good God, it’s been a while since I did a lotta work.” He muttered. Adam agreed with a nod as they got into position.

Benny wiped his forehead and rolled his shoulders. He was quickest into position. Sheila began counting.

(( A true fan. :D ))

Vega practically dropped to the ground in exhaustion. At least they were doing push-ups, which gave her a perfect excuse to go lay on the ground for a moment. Even if it was just only for a few seconds.

Her arms felt like the pasta the Cook usually makes for lunch: stringy and soft. At the thought of food, her stomach suddenly grumbled. Rather loudly, she might add. She rarely eats breakfast back at home, so hunger was catching up to her, adding more fatigue. She probably couldn't even lift a spoonful of whatever they were going to eat for lunch.

The most she could do would be to slam her head on the plate and eat from it like an animal.

The thought gave her whatever little strength she had to finish the push-ups. She wasn't going to give up her ladylike attitude, despite how sweaty and disgusting she felt at the moment. 'I'm not going to... I'm not going to...' Vega fervently thought, wondering if she would be able to have the strength to go through the whole week. She couldn't just run on anger and keeping up her image.

The moment she counted twenty, Vega quickly dropped to the ground, the dirt staining her freckled cheek. Her breaths came out in gasps and the sweat poured down her forehead. "I... hate... you, Father," she managed to breathe out, closing her eyes for a few moments.