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(RP) Legion Of Man - Chapter 3

"More like gutless fuckface amirite Mirri?" I hollar at maximummost tonality, which is quite high per my vocal cords and whatnot, I wish they were lower though...
 
"You're pathetic. Here you are summoning your servant to attack a nine year old girl?"

Miriam sighs and turns around, fiddling with the key. "It looks like we've got a lot of work to do."

She turns back around and looks at the group:

"You all rely on your servants far too much. Your servants are a tool, not a free pass. If you can't fight a nine year old girl, then we won't stand a chance against the Legion of Man. What happens when your servant is down? Are you just going to die?" she asks.

"I care about you far too much to allow that to happen. Starting today we are putting everyone in physical training. This is why I called you all here. We're staying in this field until everyone is able to effectively take me on in combat."
 
Damn really glad no one remembers that I thought she was evil I think while watching the 'Fight' if you can call it that.

I turn to Jayden "Hey teachers pet pipe down".
 
"Well...this is going very poorly," I muttered as my legs instinctively crossed together to protect my own sensitive parts. "I've seen a friendlier team made up of a bunch of carnies, and these people can't even stop insulting each other...and Miriam doesn't seem like she's a merciful ringleader..."

Most of my sentences were muttered under my breath. Something was...probably wrong with this girl, but it was best not to bring it up lest I recieve the same fate. "May I ask how strenuous this training is going to be? There is more after trying to fight you, yes?"
 
"Can I skimp out on the whole 'fighting you' bit? I really dont wanna hurt the only person I give a shit about!" Well I mean, unless the person you gave a shit of most was overtaken by a parasite of which supersedes their mental functions. But besides that, nope.


Meanwhile, my ribs begin to ache, condensing my airways immensely so.
 
She holds the key up in front of her face. It begins to glow. "But first... I suppose I should get something out of the way."

"I am not your enemy. I am not evil. I don't have the motive nor the ability to erase other worlds, let alone stop those that do. I thought this was very obvious. Your opponents have been brainwashed."

"Your training is going to be intense. I want everyone to run a mile around the field. If I see you chatting more than exercising I will dislocate your knee."
 
"Seriously I REALLY don't wanna fight you! What if I injure you! I mean im not saying that I bear ANY of the merits to do so, but anything can happen in a multiverse, ESPECIALLY a multiverse comprised of psychic punchghosts and shit like Elder God Angelbane! Seriously PLEASE dont make me do this to you!"
 
"Well, that's as good of an incentive as any, if you ask me," I said with a shake of my head before slowly inching away from the group. "And you want us to start now? Or do you all want us to try and fight you first?"
 
"Im not fighting her PERIOD, I mean unless she wishes me to do so, to which I would begrudingly accept and engage in such per her being comparable to god themselves and whatnot..."
 
As i stand up, dusting off my shorts while to do so, i think of several snarky remarks i could make right now, most of which would get me shot at from several directions all at once, before starting to run.
 
"You got it, boss," I said with a nod before I begin to sprint off. I had a lot more aerobic training than most, so I expected to last a little longer than the others. Though some might think of it as just yelling into a microphone, being a ringleader takes quite a bit more than just charisma, especially when you get to help all of your performers in their trades. You learn a thing or two...or ten.
 
I run normatively, my hands engaging in motions in tune with the beat of my heart, with one beat the left arm swings forward and the right leg bursts upwards, my leftmost arm swinging not akin to the swinging of a club, but an upways slapping of one's chin. Then upon the beating of the second, the right arm swings forward, and the left leg bursts upwards.


Air enters sparsely now, the grip of the binder upon my chest growing tighter moreso than prior.


My head grows light, which, if we are to utilize analogy, is comparable to a single match in a dark room, but soon shall another match join, then another, and then George Clooney gonn-


Stupid oxygen-deprived brain.
 
As i run, visibly in a far better mood than before, i watch Micheal try to very obviously circle around Miriam and inteternally debate breaking out in laughter at how bad Micheal is at this.
 
"Mich-ael!" I pant, using oxygen of which SHOULD be reserved for maintaing my airflow ALREADY low.


"If you *pant pant*, do what I think your *pant* going to do I *pant* I swear to ******* god ill murder your ass" I finish hastily, my voice growing raspy as the denouement of my speak is doned with air minimal most".
 
Matches are abound within the metaphorical dark room that is the lack of air circulating throughout my body, i'd say approximately the amount that would lie on a cake for an 87 year oldheuifhuiehiue


I cant keep this up much longer...
 
"YEss MAAM mIsS MiRiAM!" I say, air practically nonexistant. the reigns upon my body loosening immensely so, my running pace staggers, my motion not the seamless thing it once was...
 
"Bit rude to laugh don't ya think?" I yell offhandedly, looking back for a moment, but I didn't stop moving. Didn't want to do any pushups now.
 
The strings to my body collapse, these strings metaphorical, and I collapse to the ground, a darkness enveloping my being much like how darkness envelops those asleep, and unconscious do I fall into.


Heh, beats dysphoria...
 
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