FUBAR [Jack]

86 points. Printed black on white next to my name on the sheet that's hanging up on the notice board. Cadet Matthew Dunham - 86 points. It's disappointing but the paper doesn't joke around. A lot of names below and above mine have passed the magic 100 mark. They've graduate. Not me though. And I only have two weeks left to play catch up.

Rubbing my hand over my tired features I turn away from the boards. Today my uniform is more creased than ever. After the news that my girl friend dropped on me my mind was a million places but not on a ironed uniform.
I notice that most cadets around me look refreshed and relaxed after the weekend. Those lucky bastards.

"Dunham." A loud voice calls out behind me.
I turn to see one of the other cadets and greet him with a nod but then walk off in the other direction. Right now I can't be bothered to talk to anybody. The same goes for the rest of the day. I avoid the others as much as I can by pretending to study the 'Rules and Regulations of Peace Keeping'.

With my back against the wall I sit and get lost in thoughts when suddenly heavy steps make me listen up and raise my eye line to see a peace keeper approach that I've never seen around. He's massive, well built but what's most impressive is the way he carries himself. The man's extremely confident and stern looking. A guy to look up to and admire.
'I want to be that guy one day' shoots through my head. Instead of being intimidated I'm impressed so I straighten up and greet him with a slight smirk searching his uniform for a rank.
Who is this man?
As he stands in front of me I see how stern his expression is. Obviously he wants something from me. So I wrinkle my brow, close my book and ask. "Yes?"

As pleasantly impressed as I am with new role model he doesn't seem equally impressed with me. After asking my name and me nodding to it he orders me on my feet as loudly as no other instructor before. The moment of surprise has me leaping to my feet as a jolt of adrenalin rushes through my body. Holy shit, this guy means business. His whole body language as well as the resonanting voice is larger than life and equally impressive.

For now I play along because I actually find his personality admirable. If there were more instructors like him around here we might push ourselves even more.

For a moment I forget my momentary troubles until he brings up my creased uniform and why I'm smiling.
Instantly that smile drops from my face as I look down at my own wrinkled shirt and dusty shoes. Damn...I do look like shit. I should have taken better care even though I spent the whole weekend trying to wrap my head around the news that my girlfriend is pregnant. Holy carp...that still confuses me to no end.
Maybe it's best not try to explain why I didn't take the time or care to press and shine my attire.

He circles me as if I was prey. That's when I notice the looks the other cadets are giving us and become uncomfortable but stare back at them as if to tell them to mind their own business.
Maybe this is just another one of those silly academy surprise tests.

"I've been pulled from my post to train your sorry ass and get you caught up with your comrades. If it were up to me, you'd be OUT!" He yells at me in an overly loud tone that gets thrown back from ll walls and the ceiling to make it even louder.
"I don't know why you're behind and I don't give a CRAP to find out. These next two weeks, your ass is mine. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR!?"

He obviously wants an answer and as much as I dislike his yelling I do like the fact that he's here to 'help' me.
"Perfectly clear, sir." I state in a mockingy relaxed tone because he's so strug out.

So the bulky picture perfect keeper in front of me had been assigned to kick me back into shape, which is unexpected.
"I figured they'd just let me fail. Why are they going to the trouble of giving me a personal trainer?" There's a hint of curiosity in my voice but also a hint of sarcasm because I'm sure he's got better things to do.

There must be a reason why the academy won't let me fail like half a dozen others that are already gone.
I eye him with a certain interest because he still seems fairly young himself but stands out so much from everybody else here who's wearing a uniform. That makes me wonder when he joined the corps and what he does now.
"Can I ask you a question? What do you usually do?"

It soon becomes clear that this guy doesn't have a friendly side or at least he's not willing to show it as he keeps yelling at me in a rather unfriendly tone that let's me know how high above me he is.
"SHUT UP!" He stares medown but I hold his gaze. Easy exercise. I've done that a million times during my time as career. "Or did you forget that recruits are only allowed to speak when addressed or ask a question?"
"I figured that only goes for our superiors here." I think to myself but bite back a nasty comment. This is starting to become embarassing and uncomfortable. Add my current bad state of mind. It might soon become and explosive mixture.

"If you have a QUESTION, recruit, you will 'respectfully request to ask a question', you will SOUND OFF, and you will preface and end all of your sentences with 'sir'! DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?"

I have to avert my gaze because my expression has become hard and disobedient. If I look him in the eye he knows what I'm thinking 'fuck you'. So I stare ahead. Past the group that's watching from a distance, chin up, back straight. He can't intimidate me with his military bullshit.
He keeps staring at me waiting for an answer so I finally lift my eyes to meet his cold stare with the same sort of look and press through gritted teeth. "Yes, SIR."
There's a rumbling, brooding feeling starting to boil in my middle that I know all too well. That's how most of fights I'm involved in start.

For a moment he focusses on the group of cadets who watch with too much curiosity and hands them a verbal spanking before he returns his attention on me.
I'm still frozen at attention but am starting to wonder whether this is a good or bad thing.
If he keeps up the 'good work' I'll get booted for punching a superior.

With his next rant he makes hisplan for me perfectly clear...drop me,run me, have me scrub the floor with my tooth brush. No other instructor has been this tough on us but the other company told us stories about theirs...much alike.
I'm not liking it one bit. Who says I need that sort of encouragement to get my ass into motion. I've been stabbed in the lung on a duty call, that's why I'm physically and menatlly not in the best of shapes. No drill ordropping me is going to change that. Maybe it was a mistake to sweet talk the doctor to give me the all clear so soon though. Now I have to own up to it.

"Do I make myself abundantly clear?" He demands to know almost making me roll my eyes but all I do is press my lips together before I frown but reply. "Abundantly, yes, sir."

My jaws working hard to hold back all the nasty comments that might come out of my mouth while I keep standing where I am because any other move might just result in more screaming. If he really has the authority he claims the next two weeks are going to be hell but hopefully worth it. I need to pass this and become a peace keeper. Then I can yell at others.
That heel click annoys me enough to briefly look down though before I swallow and raise my eye line and stand in silence. the only thing that gives away how angry I am is the speed of my breathing.

[/div]
It's not hard to read my expression because it's meant to show the man in front of me just how I feel about being yelled at. What I don't expect him to adress my expression.
While he stares me down, which he is damn good at, he asks me.
"What, you don't like being told what to do? It pisses you off, yeah?" Of course those questions are not meant to be answered even though it's tempting. So I remain silent but close my eyes briefly. 'Hell yeah.' I think to myself. It's the part of being a peace keeper I dislike. I can't wait until I'm the one dishing out the orders.

Suddenly his posture eases up and I feel like he's a cat playing with me ..being the mouse.
"You'd like to punch my lights out, don't think I don't know that look."
"Yes, sir." Slips out before I can reconsider


" You should be pissed. You're at the bottom of the food chain as a recruit, and being behind your classmates at that."He really has a way of stating the obvious and rubbing it in until it hurts.
" But rather than directing that anger at me, who's been sent to catch you up so you can become a Peacekeeper, direct it at finishing the Academy. If you follow my instructions to the letter, and work your ass off while you're at it, I guarantee you'll graduate."
I cock my head to the side because I like the sound of that. I'm more than ready to work my ass off because it's exactly what I want. If they brought this instructor in to get me to that point I can only be thankful, right.
So once I again I give him the required. "Yes, sir."
My expression softens to show him I'm on board. Hopefully if I cooperate he will tone down the yelling.

The 'conversation' comes to an end when he orders me back to my bunk to clean it and show up in running gear in an hour.
I do as I've been told, pick up my book and leave after being dismissed. For now I'm undecided whether this turn of events is a good or bad thing. The only thing I know is that it'll help me focus on something other than the baby on the way.

Upstairs I peel out of the wrinkled uniform and roam around for my running gear. I even go to the trouble to pull out the iron and press my shirt before I put it on. It looks
much better than before. Then I go and shave. A look on my watch tells me that I still have half an hour so I clean my locker, make sure my bed is neatly made and everything is clean. After all I want to avoid trouble as much as I can. For now. As long as this guy is going to help me I'm going to pla by his rules. I'm weary though.

Five minutes before the hour is up I show up in the gym with a bottle of water in my hand and a much better outer appearance than before. Since we're at the gym I start warming up but jogging around and stretching.
The anticipation of what's to come is tuggng on my nerves. Clearly he knows that any physical activity is not really my strong suit now. I do wonder whether he knows that I damn near won the pregames of our district this year.

My heart beat is picking up its pace while I jog around the gym to warm up. It's a good feeling plus today I'm feeling physically fine, if only my head was in the right place, too. For now I focus on the task at hand as it matter much more than before.
This whole 'personal trainer' things is actually getting me excited.
Looks like I could really become a peace keeper despite the odds that are against me.

The peace keeper, who still hasn't told me his name stands in the middle of the sparring matt with a pile of 'accesories' around him so I walk on over to meet him. He's now also dressed more casually but still sharp.
Thank goodness that my running pants aren't as creased as the ones before.

Briefly I let my eyes scan the equipment to get an idea what I'm in for but he soon informs me what I have to do.
I'm not sure why I need gloves because they aren't part of your gear during crowd control. Now is not the time to question him so I nod and grab a pair from the ground.
They are the simple kind, you don't use wraps with so I slip my hands into them and tighten them after taking my jacket off.
Then I take my shoes off and step onto the matt in front of him to him. In his sleeveless shirt I can clearly see the shape he's in. If he's not one of thoseweigh lifting gymn hamsters but knows how to put those muscles to use, I'm in for a wild ride. Nature's blessed me with broad shoulders and a good built but since the incident I've only been training a little.
The good thing about being a former career is that I don't get intimidated by looks though.

"May I ask you a question?" I wait for him to allow me this time. Then I add. "What's your name?"
I roll my shoulders in anticipation of the spar and raise my hands slightly to signal that I'm ready.

Apparently my choice of words is not the required one and instead of a name I get to do push ups...fast and a lot. The muscles on the right side of my chest are just healing abck together and have a hard time keeping up with the strenuous exercise so by the time I'm at 10 push ups they start pulling and hurting.
I keep on pressing though until the master is satisfied.

What he tells me about my stance is old news to me because I'm very familiar with hand to hand combat. It's my strong suit and nobody pushes me over, not even him. I can only show him by doing well instead of replying.

He seems pleased so do I because right now I'm stil trying to look good in front of him.

He takes my arms soI'm covering my face, stands behind me and asks me to throw some punches. Why, I don't know but I obey his order and throw a few right and left punches in the air, then I turn my head to watch him out of my peripheral vision. Each time I make sure my arms come back to cover my face and duck behind them.

I wish I could tell him that I know all about self defense and sparring.

"Sir, close combat, self defense...I'm pretty good at that. Got 4 points in the last sparring two exercises." I try not to sound too full of myself but actually spare him the training that's not necessary.

If he wants to train me in things I'm good at he's just wasting my and his time.

"Your instructors seem to think otherwise. And I'm not much inclined to disagree with them unless you convince me they're wrong." So the instructors think I suck at hand to hand combat? Why would they keep me around? My partner caught the two guys during the arrest exercise. My marks in rules and regulations are all right but this is what I'm good at.
I frown at him because he tells me that I need to prove myself. Who is this guy to walz in here like his shit doesn't stink and tell me that.
The challenge to convince him that he's wrong about me. So I'm not going to stand back and waste my chance.

After checking some paper for a broef moment he tells me that we'll skip the basics of i can grapple and pin him for 10 seconds.
That's an offer I can't refuse. Surely he wouldn't offer it if it was easy but I'm confident, so I nod.
"Sounds like a plan, SIR."

I start circling him and in no time I move in closer just to duck away and come from a different angle. At first I test his reaction to my punches, which he ducks or blocks with ease.
So finally I decide to throw a harder punch putting a lot of boombehind it and then a split second later try to kick his foot out with my left leg.
As soon as he shifts his weight I fling myelf on him using my whole bod weight as leverage to throw him to the ground. No matter how low his stance may be right now, he's going to fall.