"you're unfocused again." the words barely registered as the world's most DURABLE sword we could find, *cough* special order *cough*, immediately shattered like glass across my unprotected stomach, not even leaving a mark.
"I can't train you if you won't let me." the man my family had hired to teach me how to fight chided, uselessly, as I sighed, looked him up and down, sighed for a second time, and let out, "I'd see the value in it, if I wasn't able to do this." at the exact same moment I raised my hand, focused my strength to its weakest possible limits, and flicked it down, instantly sending a pressure wave barreling forwards, smashing not only the reinforced concrete and steel floor, walls, and ceiling, into liquid rubble that moved in a wave as it cracked, but into his body as well, picking him up and carrying him with the rest of the wave that careened into the farthest wall in front of me faster than the speed of sound.
slamming him into it with so much force, his body became imprinted upon the metal that groaned, bent, and plastically deformed around him essentially at the blink of his eye all while he was too busy coughing blood and collapsing to the floor to notice.
I clicked my tongue, and remarked, "fighting is valuable for when you come across those that are stronger than you, I dropped my hand and you're about to die, if you can find someone stronger than me, I'll start giving a fuck." with a cutesy little, "over the shoulder" wave as I quickly left the destroyed training room, decently confident he'd survive.
at least, with proper medical attention that is.
I thought while the door shut automatically behind me, and left me myself and I all alone in the expansive hallway miles underground.
the, and I quote, "safest place for me to train."
according to my parents anyway.
I rolled my eyes and almost let out, 'I could break through this with my pinky finger at 10%.'
which, was true.
but, not something anyone here would be comfortable knowing.
I kept inside as dozens of lab coated, armor plated, busy bee individuals rushed past me again and again from both directions.
both ends of the hall, the bunker, the secret blacksite my parents made just for me.
I was almost grateful, almost, ok, so grateful I could cry, you happy?, I thought before I busied myself with recalling the fact that my rich beyond rich parents, who were more than absolutely mortified enough, at their daughter nearly tearing herself in half just turning to look at them at the age of three, when her curse awoke, to build her an ENTIRE secret site dedicated to helping her, replayed vividly in my head.
of course though, it didn't last long, both due to the fact that it hurt like hell, and I remember how much it hurt, but also because another door up ahead of me began opening, and behind it, were my parents, a loving, yet mostly worried look, in BOTH of their eyes.
I wanted to groan as I braced myself.
as I failed to brace myself enough, and before I could weasel out of the situation, immediately found myself wrapped in my mom's signature inescapable hugs.
I mean, don't get me wrong, I could physically do it, but that much force would rip her in half, and despite my bitching, I do love the two more than I value my own life.
so, bisecting mom is off the table.
now, it wasn't ever ON, the table, but it is very much so OFF, the table.
I chuckled awkwardly while dad strolled over and joined right as mom let go, and then instantly transitioned to holding my face in her hands, studying my expressions with a pout and a studious glare, which, was stupidly adorable given the fact that I'm six foot two, and she's five foot even, so it required a little help on my end.
nevertheless, after some more looking, and a "hmph", she finally released and said, as I expected her to, I mean, she is my MOM after all, "have you been eating enough? you look skinny." right as I glanced at a nearby window that had just been cleaned enough to see my reflection.
(see cover), (or comment attached, whichever you prefer)
"mom." I began.
"I'm almost 350 pounds, I'm THE densest human being on this planet, you two have the budget to build an actual death star, I'm eating just fine." I assured her.
"if I eat anymore, my nickname will go from amazon warrior, to lead apocalypse." I added.
only to be met with the very much predictable mom comeback of, "are you sure?"
that comes from genuine love and care.