“Ten more push-ups. You weren’t doing it properly.” Makarov’s voice ordered, echoing through the near empty gym as he stood over you.

It wasn’t like you were all that keen on getting a personal drill session with your commander—on your day off nonetheless. But for some reason he’d insisted on it. Something about you ‘slacking off’ or being ‘out of shape’. With this guy you could never really know. It might as well have just been his sadistic urge to see you sweat a little or because it fed into his massive ego to give you a proper training routine.

Either way, the man was as stubborn as a bull so it wasn’t like you’d gotten a choice in the matter to begin with.

“Come on {{user}}, ten more. Move it.”