Give me some results! {Jackeroe}

[Maralah Carter]

Beep! Beep! Beep! SLAM!

Stupid fucking alarm clock.

Mara rolled out of bed and firmly planted her feet on the floor. Let's get this day started right. Music blasted throughout her small apartment as she began her daily wake-up routine. She yawned and stretched as she worked her way to a modest kitchen area.

Step one: Protein

She opened her fridge, grabbed a couple of eggs, and cracked them into a glass. In a matter of seconds she downed all of it. The eggs left a horrible taste in her mouth, so she downed a glass of water to wash it out. Oh, the things I do for muscle.

Step two: Exercise

Step two was a quick workout in that involved a mile run on a treadmill, several reps of push-ups, a decent amount of sit-ups, and beating the crap out of a punching bag. Now that's how you break a sweat.

Step three: Hygiene

Mara took a hot shower, brushed her teeth, and fixed up her hair. She finds it hard to keep clean most of the time, but she tries her best. Her power and her job always found ways to make her dirty.

Step four: Suit Up

When it came to fashion, Mara had a decent sense of it, but today, she didn't feel like dressing like a fashionista. She slipped on a black tank-top, some faded camouflage sweatpants, and her trusty boots. It was all she needed to make a last impression on anyone she came across.

Now that she was wide awake, it was time to see what her schedule for the day was. After taking a quick look at her agenda, she discovered that she had an appointment with a power trainer named Jackeroe Connick. She has met him once before, and based only on her first impression of him, he didn't impress her at all. She has seen other guys who look a lot rougher and tougher than he is.

She grabbed a black duffel bag and filled it with various items that she thought she may need throughout the day. Because of her job protecting a school full of meta-humans, Mara had to be prepared for anything. There was no telling when a dangerous, super powered kid might throw a hissy fit, try to damage property, or get in a fight. The unpredictability of her job thrilled her. Sometimes, she got excited when an incident occurred. Mara is almost never satisfied unless she is doing something productive in her workplace.

On the way out of her apartment, she slammed the door. The distance to Hammel wasn't too far, so instead of getting a ride there, she decided to walk. Upon arriving at Hammel, she walked straight for the training field where she was supposed to meet up with her power trainer. Eventually, she stopped in the middle of the field and dropped down her duffel bag. Her hands rested on her hips and her face was covered with a look of seriousness as she watched and waited for her trainer to appear. He better be good or I'm going to march my ass straight up to that front office and find someone else to take his place.

[Jackeroe Connick]

*--outfit

Jackeroe did not have a real agenda when it came to waking up, and it was a lengthy and precise process that a documentary could probably be made out of. Yes, imagine it: ‘The Daily Awakening Processes of the Elusive Jackeroe’. It would take a budget millions and a staff of thousands. It would be sponsored by discovery. It would take years to complete. Critics would rave about the sheer amazing quality of it, the astonishing scenes, the revolutionary new discoveries. It would shock the scientific community. It would change the world. Millions would watch it in awe. It would show in theatres and come out on a five disc DVD box set for $39.99, all in HD at that. It would win an award. Scratch that. It would win tons of awards.

Yeah, great dream Jackeroe. Now get up.

Rolling over in bed, the power trainer groaned as he turned off his regular old beeping alarm clock, trapped somewhere between a dream and reality. (More so than usual, anyway.) Sunlight spilled into his room and for a moment he cursed that his bed faced east, even though he was the one who had put it that way for just that very reason. He threw the covers off after a moment and let out a keening sound as the cold air hit him. His apartment’s heating was not working right. Again. He’d have to talk to the management about that. Again. Oh, why bother? He was barely home anyway. If anything, his cat was the only one who used the apartment, and she treated him like he was her pet. He groaned as he got up and rubbed his head, shuffling into the kitchen to feed himself, and the aforementioned cat. The meal consisted of a waffle covered in peanut butter- for him; the cat got dry food- and a gulp of milk, straight from the jug. Anywhere else, he would’ve felt bad. But he lived alone, and so he felt that his drinking from the container would not offend anyone, except maybe the cat, and her opinion only mattered half of the time.

He threw himself in and out of a shower at top speed, and got dressed just as fast. He pulled his rosary on over his neck and kissed the cross muttering the Lord’s Prayer to himself in front of the bathroom mirror before departing for the day. He threw on his hat as he went out the door, because face it, he never went anywhere without one, especially not in the cold weather. Pilot Ridge was warming up, slowly but surely. Jackeroe whistled as he walked down the stairs to the bottom floor of his apartment (he didn’t trust the elevator, and besides, it was good exercise) and left the building with a bounce in his step, which was hard to accomplish so early in the morning without coffee. Jackeroe did not run off coffee though- he absolutely hated coffee. He mostly ran off of cheap Arizona tea and sheer willpower alone; which surprised a lot of people for unknown reasons.

The trainer looked up to the partly cloudy sky and sighed- it was time for his daily commute. Unlike many of the people that inhabited Pilot Ridge, Jackeroe did not own a car- he wasn’t a good driver and had awful insurance payments, so he had sold his old one. It was about a mile and a half to work and fifteen minutes a mile. The way he saw it, he was getting his exercise. People asked him how he stayed so fit- this was how. He walked to work every day and back and he barely broke a sweat. Despite what people think, a mile is not a long way; it just feels that way inside of a person’s head. It generally ended too fast- he’d pass by the stores and would meander out of town at his own pace. He would look out through the woods and note what was going on- occasionally he would see deer and would pause to observe them. Soe people said his behavior was dangerous- what if he ran across a cougar, or a moose, or a bear? He snorted at that- he was more likely to get hit by a car then mauled by an animal. The road was busy and generally known for having a lot of road kill. The worst thing he had come across was a territorial vulture a few summers back, and all he did was cross the road to avoid it. This particular morning he did not stumble upon any extraordinary fauna. He saw songbirds and squirrels, but that was the extent of it.

When he got to Hammel, he went to training field. It was apparent that he was late- she was standing with her hands on her hips looking mighty pissed off. “Maralah! Great of you to make it. Sorry I’m late, hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.” He marveled at how she was dressed- wasn’t she cold? He had his jacket unzipped, sure, but it wasn’t like he was going out in a tank top. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked around for a moment, noting the terrain and such. “So, tell me, what’s been bothering you lately? Emotional flare ups or just general problems?” He might as well get to the point- dancing around the subject would leave them standing here all day.