"Monster. Fiend. [i]Charlatan.[/i] You aren't human..."

Madeleine is running out of invectives. Really she's already run out, but the stream out of her endlessly whenever her breath allows for it. Hating Machia makes her heart beat. Hating Machia means the world is correct and normal. Hating Machia means it's possible to stand up again so she can walk over there and kick her right in her stupid artificial shin. You know, where it'll [i]hurt[/i].

But being fair, this isn't her fault. Madeleine should have known better after she'd suggested a local obstacle course and Machia had agreed so enthusiastically. That should have been her clue to call it off, or at least set a more reasonable expectation for the event. But now she was running through it, again and again, under the influence of any one of a dozen bizarre compounds. 

The most recent run had been testing one that caused random muscle spasms. To hear Machia tell it, someone like Musashi would shrug this off and deliver a perfect sword stroke even through the worst fit of twitching it could dish out. Madeleine had been scrambling up the rope ladder when hers happened. Then she was falling, getting caught around her ankle, twisting, dropping, and...

Landing perfectly on one knee. Just before her leg shot out from under her and smashed her face into the ground. And if that wasn't enough she had to do this whole thing while Machia randomly fired beanbags out of a t-shirt cannon she'd... acquired? Modified? Did she want to know, or alternately tried to douse her in some other kind of cubegel to add swelling or sneezing or total adrenal burnout to the current challenge. 

She turns her neck and stares ruefully at the unused weight sets over in the corner. What she wouldn't give for another round of calibrations. A chance to feel her body working for once, instead of finding out all the million ways it was possible to break it. God, she'd give anything to just... run in a circle for a while. Even if she had a madwoman shooting at her the whole time, it sounded like bliss. 

"You know what worries me? That you act like building a missile is more virtuous than an airplane. Especially because I'm the missile! No I do [i]not[/i] want the changes reverted that is... not the point!"

Madeleine struggles to her feet and walks over to a line of slowly diminishing bottles of sports drink. This one is yellow flavored. Not 'lemon', not really, these things were way too nutrient dense to taste like real things anymore, but somehow the color always gave it a sense of a different type of sweet than all the others. Or maybe salty, or... what was in this, anyway? 

"...I've been thinking. Psych training tonight, and more of this in the morning. Right? Doesn't it feel silly sending me home at the end of these sessions? I should be staying over. At least until the night of the match. You have a real shower, so I... no, forget it. Next compound, please. What is my PB again? I'm going to crush it this time."

Madeleine settles in at the start of the course again. She did promise, after all. Nothing wasted.