Heaven in Hell

LESSONS

SIDDHARTH'S POV:

Thanks to our dear juniors, I feel like a cranky old man trying to live in a weighted 20 year old's body. Hitting red is the last thing I want to do. Rosh on the other hand looks like he is on his periods with his angry glare and a scowl on his face. Somebody must have seriously pissed him off.

Time, however, waits for none. At 0430, we start while the juniors, with great motivation from Rosh's glare, run towards the danger duo for a run. The irony of it is not lost on me.

We hit red faster and harder than yesterday, which is suprising. I guess, the anger coming off in waves from Rosh is more powerful than the duo. I grudingly keep pace with a workout he has set in his head.

My breaths are quick, short and barely enough but Rosh just increases the intensity still lost somewhere deep in his head. I swear we are going to pass out soon if he doesn't stop.

"What the fuck is wrong with you today, Rosh?" I shout when I can take no more.

"Nothing"

Like I haven't heard that before. "Oh yeah. And I'm the fucking Prime Minister of Pakistan."

He opens his mouth to rebutt but hell will freeze over before he speaks, "Don't you dare lie to me, asshat. You are killing yourself and me and if you say it ain't my business, I swear, I'm going to kick you in the balls"

He just shakes his head and I know I'm not getting an answer until I'm old and he is ready. I turn away back to our sit-ups when he speaks muffled, "It's stupid. I just have a feeling. It's just stupid. Ignore what I said"

I turn to see his hands covering his face and I swear I tried my best. Despite my efforts, laughter spills out at watching him, the hulking angry soldier, confess to having a feeling with his face in his hands. I know it is not funny but damn that sight.

He looks at me with a look he reserves for his special screw-ups. One that says, 'Dude, seriously' but I can see through his facade. I mean if you see really really hard you can see the corners of his mouth lift up in a teeny tiny smile.

Before I can point it out though, he interrupts or more rather bulldozes my moment of joy with a 'Don't you dare say a word EVER. Period' before he continues that punishing pace.

---

I know I made fun of his 'feeling' but Rosh is dead if he does not get his head out of his ass. The duo was impressed with our red zone and we got to have an amazing breakfast, time to relax our muscles in the hot tub and shower in peace.

Even the technical session was one fine reward.

We re-learned about weapons, survelliance and reece (reconnaissance) from a text book thicker than all our mattresses combined. I love and loathe such a session. It gives your body a rest but if forgotten, it is a hazard to that very same body.

Right now though, we are in the coveted basketball session and Rosh has fumbled twice. Two times more than he should have. That man is excellent at this game but somehow his concentration is fried. Luckily Chief is with us while the juniors are being watched by Agent Prescott. Rosh gets dished the regular punishment only because Agent Prescott has not caught him.

"Lay-ups. Let's learn them" Agent Prescott announces. From hereon, our sessions are going to be infinitely better. Lay-up means running and dribbling the half court in measured steps to ensure you have exactly 2.5 steps when you reach the zone. You carry the ball those 2.5 steps and you shoot it hoping to convert it into a basket. Now, we get a free running combined with dribbling, carry, shoot and score practice. If our baskets don't go, after this workout, we get a reward. Failure is after all not accepted.