"Will he do?"
"His Spiritual Pressure is off the chart."
"But what about his morals?"
"We have to test him."
"He's an Ares and Hades class."
"So."
"They tend to go crazy Zet."
"He is strong."
"Maybe to strong?'
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Dust hung in the air, the heat rose higher and higher, thumping and explosions burned my skin. I felt each razor blade sharp piece of glass slice my skin. It blistered and boiled, black and red. My muscles were stretched to their max. I felt the brokenness in my leg, my bone had shattered, each fragment tearing more and more of my muscles up. The right Achilles tendon was gone.
"Markus get moving!" His voice snapped me awake. The reddish brown hair streaking past, his black and white oriental ropes flapping in the busy winds. The near permanent sunglasses covering his eyes.
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"GAH!!" Son...wow...third time this week. Sweat glistens to the boys body. Messy black hair drips with sweat, a barrel chest heaving like he had run a mile. His eyes were wide with adrenaline.
"Markus get up for school!!" His moms voice echoed up the star case. Shrill to the ear, he hated hearing he drunken voice each and everyday.
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