Confirmed Convictions.

Teh Andy · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Teh Andy** on Wed Sep 14, 2005 3:16 pm

“WHUMPF-SMACK-CRACK-WHUMPF!”

“WHUMPF-CRACK-SMACK-WHUMPF!”

“POCK-POCK!”

“Thirty more seconds, finish it out.”

“GRRRAAA…!”

“CRACK! CRACK! BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM!”

“RRRRRAH!”

“SMACK! CRACK-SNAP-WHACK! BAMF!”

“C’mon, push it!”

Sweat dripped to the canvas, permeating the already-humid atmosphere and testing the sinewy warrior’s footing as he moved about the mat, shuffle-stepping to follow every bone-crushing kick, every devastating punch, every rib-smashing knee. The two weren’t alone in the gym; all around them weight machines and treadmills were occupied by the colony’s occupants. The muscled body-builders were trying to be macho, their eyes struggling to maintain focus straight ahead as they worked their swelling shoulders and massive biceps. The same could be said of the marathoners, trying to concentrate on their pace and breathing as they ran. Gradually, however, everyone’s focus was being fixated on the action occupying the padded work-out area on the far side of the room.

“Ten more seconds,” the fighter’s dark-haired training partner shouted as his friend gritted his teeth and fought through his burning lungs, aching muscles, and growing fatigue. Continuously he threw his body into the out-stretched pads held out for him, hurling every ounce of his weight into the shots, making them count. He imagined body parts in front of those red targets. In his mind, every kick broke a rib or fractured a skull. Every punch shattered facial bones. Every knee ruptured organs.

“HHHHHAI!” he cried finally, sending his shin crashing into both pads held level with his partner’s head. This final blow sent the pads’ wielder stumbling sideways, his back-side cushioning the fall as he met the canvas. Mercifully, the knock-down coincided with the triple-chime calling out from the round-timer resting at the edge of the mat. As if this was the signal to emerge from a trance, the fierce grimace on his face and the fire burning in his eyes slowly faded, easing his face into its normal, cheerful façade.

“Ah, jeez, Norman,” the bare-chested athlete sighed as he reached down with his half-finger gloves, helping his friend up from the ground, “Sorry about that.”

“I think that’s enough for today,” Norman said as he took the offered hand, “You’re in fine condition.”

“I gotta be better.”

“Jason, you’re the most athletic fighter I’ve ever seen.”

“Yea, well when’s the last time you went to Earth?” Jason queried as he helped his training partner take off the pads strapped to his forearms. Even with the layers of extra protection between his arms and the worn pads, yellow and green bruises would’ve made the casual observer assume Norman had spent the day painting.

“You know I’ve never been to Earth. I was born and raised in the colonies.”

“Exactly, you don’t know what kind of beasts they’re breeding down there.”

“Is that what this is about?”

“Fuckin’ right. I’m gonna kick me some Terran ass.”

“So you’re enlisting?”

“Of course, aren’t you?”

The pair continued their conversation in the locker room, showering and changing into street clothes.

“I dunno,” Norman confessed as he stripped off his clothes and headed toward the showers, “I mean I’d heard about General Sin taking over control of the colonies.”

“Because we need a strong ruler leading the charge against Earth,” Jason explained, following his friend “Nothing can be accomplished when the government is broken down into so many committees and boards that have to discuss things for months and months only to do nothing when it comes time to vote.”

The sound of falling water merged with the conversation, forcing the two to speak in slightly louder tones.

“But how do we know he’ll be a just leader?” Norman asked while Jason lathered shampoo through his dirty-blonde locks.

“I have a good feeling about him,” he responded, rinsing the soap from his scalp, “Besides, if he turns into a tyrant, we’ll just revolt. The colonists don’t take crap from anyone. Earth’s about to find that out, and if Sinful tests us, he’ll learn the hard way too. And anyway, why should the man leading us really affect your decision to fight against Earth. We’ve been pushed around enough by those control-freaks.”

“I guess you’re right,” Norman agreed after drying himself off, “It’s not worth sitting around and waiting to be pushed to the brink before we finally start fighting back.”

“So you wanna come down with me today and sign up?” Jason asked while slipping a t-shirt over his toweled-off hair.

“Yea, that sounds like a plan.”

The pair left the gym plotting and dreaming of fighting the tyranny of the Earth Sphere, their nearly identical frames emerging into L5’s unnatural sunlight together, about to embark on a fateful quest, sure to be riddled with the joy of victory, agony of defeat, and tragedy of the struggle that was war.

Confirmed Convictions.

a topic in Gundam Wing: Continuing Legend, a part of the RPG forum.

Confirmed Convictions.

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