A sheen of sweat doused my body, my arms cutting through the air with practised, veteran jabs. One, two, the punching shuddered under the force of my fist connecting, bending to accommodate the force injected into it. A daily routine, by now.

Outside the window, I can see the beautiful cityscape of where I reside, high up in the air like an eagle. There are numerous other buildings from where I look, striking, cool grey against the saturated blue of the sky

Every now and then, I step back from the bag and relax my muscles, pacing myself, making sure not to strain myself or tear that which I so diligently worked to manage. Today was an important day--and I’d better not injure myself in process of preparation--but that doesn’t mean that I’d forgo an important ritual.

At the end of it all, when I had thoroughly tired my body out, my body glistening and hot, I unloaded the bag from the hook it was attached to and stored it away. I quickly wiped myself down with the towel I had brought in--a momentary cleansing--before making my way over to my desk, situated in a separate room. My work-out room and my personal study were connected through only one door, for each were my most accessed rooms in my apartment.

Inside, on the desk, already splayed out from when I was last looking over them yesterday, were papers, maps. One was a large map of Casterfield while the other was a floor map of a particular warehouse that had recently become abandoned when the company which owned it became bankrupt.

It was an unfortunately common occurrence; a company experiencing a hive emerging in one of their shops or warehouses and the damage and loss of product, as well as the inevitable stigma that generates, pushes the company into a downwards spiral of destitution and desolation.

This warehouse had only been abandoned for about two months or so. Normally, if a company goes bankrupt, they could at least recoup some losses by selling machines, properties, whatever. However, once one of your properties becomes a hive, good luck convincing people that your other ones definitely won’t.

As far as I had found out, the warehouse was unguarded and mostly left alone. There was nothing valuable in it and it was such a common occurrence--an abandoned warehouse or factory--in the north of the city that there was very little police or G.U.G. presence as well.

Both things were good for me, particularly the later.

Precogs are hard to come by, as it’s a rare ability. Even harder are precogs not already tied down with a guild, a team, or the G.U.G.--It can be quite a lucrative job. Furthermore, the precogs who are free tend to demand a large sum of money for their services.

Once they’re paid, however, it’s well worth it; the dissolution of the national lottery is an example--it quickly devolved into whoever could pay the most money to a precog.

Thankfully, I found one for a reasonable price hiding low in the city. He advertised his services, yes, but that didn’t mean you had to actively search for him.

After payment, he told me what I wanted to know; the upcoming location of a specific hive.

The northern part of the city was where the docks were located; not a place I frequented often. The inherent danger to a low-policed area didn’t matter to me, however. Any illegal teams or guilds worked mostly in the city and those that were situated at the docks I would be able to handle.

All I had left to do was, with a pen, outline my route to the warehouse. A weaving and winding route, sure, but it was pretty direct. As for the warehouse itself, there was no set location a heart would emerge. However, with the right information, you could predict the likely locations.

Unfortunately, the precog did not seem able to deduce where the heart would appear, somehow.

Generally, hearts are in a centralised location, like a keep inside castle walls. Thinking of a hive as a castle, it makes sense in that way. Furthermore, they tend not to be accessed that easily from any entrances into the building. Thirdly, they almost always emerge inside a room rather than in a wall or between two rooms. Elevation wise, it tends to be random except it’s unlikely to be on the ground floor.

The last point doesn’t matter too much as the warehouse only has two floors, with the majority of the building only actually being a single floor.

With all that in mind, I had circled the most likely rooms for a heart to appear in.

Now, my planning was completed. All that was left was to wait for the auspicious time to arrive.

Stashing all my papers away in a reddish, thick leather satchel--one that had cost an immense amount of money for a rather cheap looking item--I had tied my study compared to the night before.

Alas, the preparation that necessitated the use of my mental faculties was, indeed, finished, but that didn’t mean there was nothing more for me to do.

Some would argue the training of my own body to such a lean, strong physique was unnecessary. Those arguments have their merits--when the world is full of people who can kill one another from a large distance, be it with guns or systems, then how physically strong you are doesn’t really matter.

But those naysayers are ignoring the common situation were you’re up close with someone or have been disarmed. It’s times like those when superior offensive ability at any range provides dividends.

However, physical training was only part of my morning routine. For now, I was back in my work-out room--a rather spacious place. One half of the room was filled with expensive equipment and refreshments to keep me healthy and fit while exercising. The other half was comparatively empty, an unusual dichotomy.

White walls, open windows, and a hefty, steel table sat in the other half. From a cardboard box laying right by the doorway to the room, I withdrew one dark-grey cube of an indiscernible metal from sight--small enough to sit in my hand but large enough to have some weight to it--from a box of similar cubes stacked neatly together.

I placed it in the middle of the table and walked a fair distance away. I was practised and knew what I was doing but even the slightest bit of caution is worth it.

I readied myself, planting my feet in a firm, solid stance. Deep breaths, regulated breathing. It was a calming exercise, sharpening my focus, eliminating distractions. Unnecessary to achieve results but it was helpful in the pure practising of my abilities.

Feeling still as water, my emotions low with no turbulence, I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. It was rhythmic. Slow.

With a final breath out, I raised my hand in a demonstration of clear intent, a channeling action I found made it easier to control what I was doing.

Initially, there was no visible reaction, no decipherable movement. It all seemed still as still could be. However, I could feel the change. I could feel the energy rising in those particulates of air, originating from no source. I could feel the excitable movement of air as it bent to my will. Excited, but controlled, as I imposed my will upon them.

They roused themselves, clinging to the outside of the cube like a lonely puppy. They gathered en mass, a vacuum being left in their wake only to be quickly filled by the air that was free from me.

I pushed them together, ordered the air to gather in one place, to compress itself. They pushed inwards and, easily enough, the cube began to deform. Central dents began to form from all 5 sides exposed to the air, pockmarked with smaller dents.

As I instilled more force into my commands, they sped up. I could physically feel the heat from my actions now as the cube, more fiercely than before, began to crunch under the force it was subjected to.

Now, within a matter of seconds, the cube crumbled continually inwards, scarring appearing at incredible speeds as the corners were pushed inwards, the sides dented beyond repair, and the cube form becoming more spherical by the second.

It didn’t take long before the cube had now been fully, totally, utterly compressed into a ping-pong sized ball. Sweat was shining on my forehead but the rest of my body was rather unfussed, the activity not that demanding on me.

I relinquished my control over the air, my practice for the day done with.

I picked up the ball, deceptively heavy. The weight was the same as the cube but it’s volume now far smaller. It’s density was now higher as well.

Even though it would now be useless as a cube, I wasn’t one to waste things unnecessarily. I added the ball to a bag of similarly looking balls, filling it up. Once they were done with being practise for my system, they were relegated to being the stuffing in bags that weighed me down.

Sweat adorned my head, yes, but just one bit of training was rather unintensive. I needed more. And so, I walked back to the box, pulled out another cube, and placed that one on the table. I began again.