Jericho turned the shower faucet to the right. The lukewarm water turned cold and he shivered as he forced himself to undertake the cool current. He breathed in deeply as the water pelted the back of his hair and dropped down toward the rest of his body. He turned around and the water now stabbed at his face. He struggled to breathe and his body seized momentarily. Add a towel on his face, crank up the coldness, and he swore it would feel like he was getting waterboarded.

He turned off the water and any sense of discomfort he had left. In fact, he felt better during the minute under the cold water, than when he was in the warm water. He breathed softly as he regained himself. The icy water dripped from his body to the floor.

“Did you just jerk your dick off? Why are you breathing like that?” Isaac asked. The voice came from the shower stall to the right of Jericho. “It’s kinda turning me on. Not going to lie.”

“We’re not close enough for you to make jokes like that.”

“Who said I was joking? I think I’m close enough. I can get closer if you want.” Isaac said. He banged on the barricade separating them when Jericho did not respond. “Why didn’t you tell me you were showering? I would have gone with you.”

“Why would I shower with you?” Jericho put no effort into hiding his annoyance.

“Buddy system,” he said. “You never know what the other teams will do to you. Most people keep to themselves, but some will mess with you.”

“Teams?” Jericho shook his head when he realized he did not care. He would learn what he meant, anyway. “I thought there was a strict no powers policy.”

“That doesn’t mean they still can’t mess with you.”

“Most of the people seem nice. At least the ones I met yesterday.”

“Meet? Your head was in a book. Do you even read?”

“I found something interesting. Anyway, I think I’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted with everyone else. Meeting you two exhausted me immediately.” He mumbled, “This is probably the longest conversation I’ve had with a naked person.”

“What was that last part?”

“Oh, nothing. Enjoy your shower.”

Jericho dried himself off and removed his clothes from a locker. He patted his hair slightly and allowed it to air dry. He looked at himself in the mirror and fixed up his hair while admiring his new prison outfit. He was given orange and black jumpsuits that had thin reflective stripes and white shirts. The stripes were scattered around and were easily noticeable but not obnoxious enough to annoy him. He patted his chest, the only part of the uniform that had a pocket.

When Jericho arrived back to his room he was greeted by Zeta.

“The bitch came over earlier while you were taking a shower to drop off your training clothes,” Zeta said. “I left the clothes on your bed. She said to get changed and go to the field house.”

“The bitch?” Jericho said. He noticed the pile of clothes on his bunk which were probably neatly stacked at first. “You mean Moreno?”

“Who else would I be talking about?”

Jericho reached his arms over his bunk’s railings and scooped as many clothes as he could. It took two trips for him to move the clothes from his bed into a storage trunk he shared with Isaac. He kept one to the side to change into. The training attire was a simple black tracksuit with dark-green stripes.

“Oh, she brought this too.” Zeta tossed Jericho a pair of running shoes. Its color scheme was similar to the tracksuit.

“Black and green?”

“It’s our group’s colors,” Zeta said.

"Mind looking away so I can change?”

“I wasn’t looking in the first place.” She turned on her side to face the wall.

Jericho quickly slid out of his jumpsuit and zippered up the tracksuit over his shirt. In one swift motion he hopped into the pair of pants. He leaned over to tie his new shoes and set aside his main pair of shoes under the bed.

He made his way to the field house feeling out his new shoes. He skipped, jumped, and hopped to get used to them. Before he entered the field house, he leaned so he was on his toes. He creased the shoes to get the best feel.

“Jericho Kellian!” Jericho turned his head to the direction and made his way across the field house.

As Jericho ran over to the gentlemen he noticed the man’s hair was similar to Jericho’s. It was black and graying but this time most likely due to old age. The man was probably in his sixties.

He coughed a few times before he spoke. “The doctor still isn’t here, so we’re going old school and getting a base level of what you’re capable of physically. It’ll probably piss her off, but it’s whatever. Shouldn’t be too different from the fitness tests you’ve done in school.” He waved a stack of papers in front of Jericho. “I know you haven’t been in school in a while, but I know you’ve been going at it being more active lately. Don’t disappoint.”

“Okay,” Jericho said. Was he implying they possessed Jericho’s high school records?

“Let’s start by doing something you’re familiar with. Get on the track and don’t stop until I tell you to. Don’t worry. It won’t be too excessive. I need to evaluate you in other ways too.”

Jericho waited for his queue to start running. The man pointed his finger in the sky and an explosion shot from his fingers. The sudden outburst startled Jericho and he found himself running before he realized. What was that power?

Running indoors was different than running outdoors. No wind was here to guide him or push against him. It was only him against himself. In the area enclosed within the track, Jericho noted the other prisoners. He confirmed visually their ages, a couple of them were older than him, which he did not find promising for his situation. Were they here recently or have they been here for years?

“Hey, you’re lacking! Pick up the pace!”

Jericho bolted and increased his pacing but still tried to not run at his best. He remembered Isaac’s advice about growing slowly and he grumbled to himself. How was he supposed to show progress with running? He was already a decent runner, but he acknowledged he hit a plateau long ago. It was not possible for him to improve at this point.

He shrugged the idea away. This was only the first fitness test of many and he still had much to show for. Jericho made eye contact with one of the other prisoners mid-thought and he realized that everyone was looking at him. He quickly looked away and stared straight ahead. For the rest of the run he felt eyes tracking his back.

“Not bad,” he said. “Looks like it’s somewhat of an improvement from high school, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t do as well.”

Jericho followed him to the next testing location. A quartet of tires were laid across the floor.

He pointed to a four-hundred pound tire. “Lift it.”

“No way you’re serious,” Jericho said.

“I am.”

“I can’t lift it.”

“Try it.”

Jericho attempted to move the tire but it did not budge, even when he attempted to push against it.

Boom! The tire flew into the air across the field house.

“Ping!” He shouted.

“You crazy hack”, “Oliver did it again!”, and “Watch out” among other shouts arose from the other prisoners.

“Your name is Oliver?” Jericho asked, unsure of what else to say. His eyes traced the tire’s trajectory. It was going to hit the wall. He braced his ears for the upcoming explosion.

“No. Only people I like can call me Oliver. You call me Meacham.” He pointed a finger at Jericho. “Focus up and dodge.”

“What?” Jericho uncupped his ears. Even though he understood Meacham’s orders his mind jumbled and he tensed at the sight of the pointed finger. He moved a few steps away. He did not fully understand Meacham’s powers, but his best guess was he would end up like the tire if he did not move.

“Pong!” A shout from across the room caught Jericho’s attention and he realized he was meant to dodge the tire.

Time slowed down as Jericho traced the tire’s trajectory, this time right back towards him. At the speed the tire was going, even if he moved, he would not be able to dodge. It would end his life then and there, and his guts would splatter across the field house only to be an inconvenience to whoever would have to clean it.

Meacham shot the tire again and it changed directions yet again, but this time it smashed against the wall. A crater formed from its impact and the deafening sound traveled across the field house. Jericho closed his ears shut.

Disoriented, Jericho shouted, “What kind of base testing is this? I almost died just now!”

Meacham drove his fist across Jericho’s chin. His lower jaw pushed uncomfortably against the upper portion and he flew backwards. Meacham grabbed Jericho by the shirt. He spat at Jericho’s face as he said, “Who do you think you’re yelling at?”

Jericho forced himself to look away, despite the fact this man was rough-housing his body and pulling him from off the floor. He finally let go of Jericho, but not without a final shove against the floor.

Jericho rubbed at his chin, the pain radiated furiously and all he could do was sit there. The first punch was clean, no hint of his power was used. It was Meacham’s pure strength that struck down and paralyzed Jericho. He could hear laughter from the others.

“Are you done playing games?”

“Yes, sir,” Jericho said.

“I don’t need that sir shit,” he said. “All I ask of you is your cooperation and respect. You got that?”

“I do.”

Jericho spent the rest of the testing in a haze.

He stretched when he was asked to stretch. He jumped when he was asked to jump. Eventually he performed a push-up and sit-up test. Whatever he was asked, he did. No questions asked.

“Good,” Meacham said. “That’s what I like to see. Keep that up and you’ll get out of here in no time. See, it’s not that hard is it?”

“Not at all,” Jericho said in monotone.

“That’s enough for today. You did well, but tomorrow is when the true training begins. The doctor might be here tomorrow so be prepared for that.”

Jericho skipped the shower and went straight to his room. He ripped off his soaked shirt and sluggishly climbed onto his top bunk.

“How was testing, Jer?” Zeta asked. “Wasn’t too hard was it?”

“Don’t want to talk about it.” Jericho turned over and placed his pillow over his head to muffle the outside world.

“Is he okay?” Zeta whispered to Isaac.

“Hey, bro. Are you good? Tell us about what happened.” Jericho did not respond, but Isaac persisted. “Come on, Jericho. You can tell us.”

“Leave me alone!” Jericho shouted.

Silence struck the room.

Zeta whispered again. It was just enough for Jericho to hear. “Isaac, don’t worry about it. He’s just stressed, that’s all. No, he doesn’t hate you. We’ll ask him about it later or whenever he’s ready.”

Jericho silently cried to himself.