"Rise and shine, champions," Miguel’s voice cut through the 5:45 AM darkness as he entered the dormitory with Grey. "Ti to see what you’re really made of."
Fluorescent lights blazed to life, assaulting the teenage eyes that had barely closed four hours earlier. Seventeen boys groaned in unison, pulling thin blankets over their heads.
"What the hell, Grey," Carlos mumbled from three beds down. "It’s still nightti."
"So of us are trying to sleep," Kevin added, his voice thick with irritation.
Javier’s alarm hadn’t even gone off yet. His body felt glued to the narrow mattress, every muscle protesting to the thought of movent. Beside him, Tommy hadn’t stirred at all.
Vicente materialized at the foot of his bed, ghostly form solid in the harsh light. "Get up, kid. This is what you asked for."
"Tommy," Javier whispered, shaking his friend’s shoulder. "We gotta go."
"Five more minutes," Tommy groaned.
"No five minutes," Miguel called out. "Bus leaves in twenty minutes. You miss it, you miss training."
Grey stood by the door, arms crossed, clearly annoyed about being dragged into this arrangent. "Y’all better not make this a habit. I got real work to do."
The cold October air hit them like a slap as they stumbled toward the communal bathroom. No hot water until seven AM - another group ho economy that reminded residents they lived on society’s leftovers.
Javier splashed cold water on his face, the shock clearing the ntal fog.
"Are you sure you’re ready for this?" Vicente asked, leaning against the mirror. "It’s not too late to go back to bed."
"I’m sure," Javier replied quietly.
Tommy erged from a stall, stumbling like a zombie. "This is insane. Normal people don’t get up this early."
"Fighters aren’t normal people," Miguel said, appearing in the bathroom doorway. "Five minutes for breakfast. Toast and juice only - nothing heavy before running."
The cafeteria felt like a morgue at this hour. Mrs. Rodriguez had left just the basic provisions - sliced bread, butter and orange juice that tasted like water with fruit coloring. Javier’s stomach rumbled, but Vicente’s advice echoed in his mind about running on empty.
"Can’t we eat real food?" Tommy asked, staring at dry toast.
"Real food after training," Miguel replied. "Heavy stomach ans heavy legs. Heavy legs ans slow tis. Slow tis an you don’t make it."
Grey checked his watch impatiently. "Clock’s ticking, ladies. Van leaves in two minutes."
Outside, Brooklyn was still asleep except for the delivery trucks and early shift workers heading to the subway stations. Street lights cast yellow pools on empty sidewalks.
"Cold," Tommy complained, pulling his jacket tighter.
"Good," Miguel said. "Cold wakes you up, gets the blood moving. Hot weather makes you lazy."
Vicente walked beside them, invisible to everyone except Javier. "Your friend’s already complaining and we haven’t even started. Watch how quickly he will want to quit."
The recreation center parking lot felt different at dawn. No kids playing, no music from car radios, just silence broken by their footsteps on cracked asphalt. Miguel unlocked the building and flipped on exterior lights.
"Stretching first," Miguel announced. "Five minutes to loosen up, then we run."
Other figures erged from the morning darkness. Four teenagers from nearby neighborhoods, all looking more awake than Tommy and Javier. They nodded to Miguel with familiarity.
"This is Jamal and Maria," Miguel said, gesturing to two seventeen-year-olds who looked like they’d been carved from stone. "They have been training with for eight months. Devon’s been here six months and Jero just started last month."
Jamal had the build of soone who’d never missed a workout. Maria moved with cat-like grace. Devon and Jero looked tired but determined. All of them studied the new group ho kids with polite curiosity.
"Y’all really from Marcus Garvey?" Maria asked.
"Yeah," Javier replied.
"I heard about that place," Jamal said. "Heard it’s tough."
"It is," Tommy agreed.
"Well, you’re here now," Devon said with a grin. "Miguel’s got a way of helping people find what they’re looking for."
Miguel spread them in a circle for basic stretching. Touch toes, knee pulls, arm circles. Simple movents that revealed how stiff Javier’s body had beco from years of zero exercise.
[AGILITY 0.1] appeared in his peripheral vision as he bent toward his toes.
[BALANCE 0.1] flashed during single-leg stretches.
Vicente watched with interest. "Your flexibility is terrible. But at least the system’s tracking improvent."
"The route today is two and a half miles," Miguel explained while they stretched. "Down Atlantic Avenue to the bridge, back through the park. Pace is conversational - if you can’t talk, you’re going too fast."
"What if we can’t finish?" Tommy asked nervously.
"You walk. But walking ans extra laps tomorrow." Miguel’s tone carried zero sympathy. "This isn’t recreational jogging. This is boxing conditioning."
Jero nodded at the new guys. "Trust , just keep moving no matter what. Walking sucks worse than being tired."
The run began easily. Miguel set a pace that felt comfortable for the first quarter mile. Street lights provided guidance through the empty Brooklyn streets, past closed storefronts and apartnt buildings where normal people slept through their alarm clocks.
[ENDURANCE 0.1] pulsed every two minutes as Javier’s heart rate climbed.
"How are you feeling?" Jamal asked, running beside him.
"Good so far," Javier replied.
"Wait till mile one. That’s where it gets real."
Jamal was right. At the half-mile mark, Tommy started breathing harder. By mile one, his steps were becoming labored. The other kids maintained easy conversation while Tommy struggled to keep pace.
"I need to stop," Tommy gasped.
"No stopping," Miguel called from the front. "Slow down if you need to, but keep moving."
Vicente jogged beside Javier, apparently unaffected. "Your friend’s about to quit. What are you gonna do about it?"
Javier dropped back to Tommy’s pace. "Co on, man. We got this."
"I can’t," Tommy wheezed. "This is too fast."
"Then we go slower. But we don’t stop."
The next mile beca a test of friendship. Javier matched Tommy’s slower pace while the other kids pulled ahead. His own endurance felt stretched but manageable. The system continued tracking progress:
[ENDURANCE 0.1] every two minutes
[AGILITY 0.1] when navigating around parked cars and obstacles
By the ti they reached the recreation center, Javier’s stats showed real improvent: [ENDURANCE 3.5→5.4]
[AGILITY 4.0→5.9]
[SPEED 8.0→9.9]
Tommy collapsed on the parking lot asphalt, breathing like he’d run a marathon. "That was horrible."
"That was day one," Miguel said, checking his stopwatch. "Seventeen minutes. Not bad for beginners, but we need to get you under fifteen."
"Fifteen minutes?" Tommy looked horrified. "That’s impossible."
"Jamal runs it in twelve minutes," Miguel replied. "Maria does eleven-thirty. Improvent cos from consistency, not speed."
The stretching session felt like salvation after the run. Basic flexibility work that helped cramped muscles rember how to function. Steam rose from sweaty bodies in the cool morning air, creating small clouds of accomplishnt.
Vicente studied Javier’s form during cooldown stretches. "See how winded you are? That’s pathetic. But everyone starts sowhere."
"Thanks for the encouragent," Javier muttered.
"I’m not here to encourage. I’m here to make you better."
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