"Please don't wear that today," Clyde says, "you'll drive all the old men crazy."
"It's not my fault, I didn't get to pick my wardrobe remember?" I say, looking in the mirror at the rather practical porous black tank top, but it's not the shirt he's angry about; coupled with it are some running shorts that leave little to imagine, well passed my knees and cover the bottom of my rear by just a few millimeters. "Did Adams even tell them the crossdressing wasn't needed for this operation?"
"See, what did I tell you? Damn pencil pushers don't know what they're doing. I bet they weren't even subtle about the delivery of gear."
"It's okay, the less I look like myself, the better. Maybe you should start changing your look as well? One of these days you're bound to be found out."
He stretches his limbs out, his spandex material keeping the alluring shape of his body however he moves. "Heh, you act like I have a talent for elaborate disguises. I can't do what you do, but maybe your father should invent a gadget that could at least let me change my breed."
"Aw, tired of being a mutt? Would you rather be a Chihuahua?" He chooses not to respond through speech, but instead sneaks up behind me and pulls my shorts into a wedgie. "Aiyee! You can't do that anymore, I'm precious now!"
"Are you joking? Picking on you is at least twenty-five percent of the attraction. Now, are you ready to link up with Amy and get moving? We're gonna be cutting it close if we wait around any longer."
I pull my shorts back to their original position. "Fine, linking up now." The neurons in my brain react with the bots inside my bloodstream causing the process of establishing a connection to HQ wirelessly through hands-free methods. "Done. Amy, are you overseeing?"
"Loud and clear, Agent Hearth," her young, peppy voice says, resonating inside of my skull, "you are currently logging in your daily report as we speak. You know, I'd also be able to have a video log accompany the audio recordings if somebody would just replace their eyes."
"Not happening, I already told you."
"Just one eye? I can promise you they can make an exact replica. Green eyes, right? Clyde, you've got brown, yeah?"
"It's a no from both of us, Amy," Clyde says. "Are we the only active units today?"
"Negative, Agent Barker, I'm overseeing Unit NEQ22 as well. You might catch me back and forth between you two."
"That should be no problem. We're leaving for the meetup now, we'll keep you posted."
"Roger!"
*** *** ***
There's a nip in the air on this brisk morning. The time is 07:09, the morning dew still fresh and the sun barely peeking out over the horizon, turning the entire sky a dark shade of blue. I feel exposed with the clothing barely covering my legs and the chilling breeze that dances across my fur. A flock of birds flies above in the same direction we walk; they pass the open track and disappear into the distance. Clyde and I circle around the fence, finding an entrance and observing a small group of athletes huddled in their own area of the field. They stand around talking, and it comes to mind that maybe we might be the first ones to show up.
"That must be the team," Clyde says, "looks like they're waiting for candidates. Let's go."
It's a quick walk to them, they notice us early and cease their inner conversations to properly greet us. I count seven people in total, a mix between male and female, human and anthro, and only one is holding a clipboard.
"Good morning," the clipboard-holder says, "here for the tryouts? Of course you are, haha, forget I said that," she clears her throat and tries a different tone, standing up straight and looking professional. "My name is Sasha Pollack, these lovely people behind me are just a little piece of my team. Today we have the relay race and the javelin throw teams who need to fill in their empty slots before they can register." They all wave at us and mumble polite greetings. "If you're not interested you can, of course, try out for a different team and fill a runner-up slot. Before I jot down your names, any questions? Perhaps you'd like to know the other teams as well?"
"No ma'am," I say.
"No ma'am," Clyde says.
"No ma'am," Amy jokes.
"Outstanding," Sasha says. She turns to address me solely, "Okay, what team are you trying out for, sweetie?"
"Relay race, please."
She turns to Clyde, "Relay race?"
"No, javelin throw, ma'am."
"Ah, gotcha!" She points to a tall, male panther standing in the back. "Craig, wanna take this one and try him out? Take his name and records."
Craig winks, does an 'okay' sign with his fingers, and makes a clicking noise with his teeth all at the same time. "C'mon over here guys, we'll give them some room for practice." Clyde follows Craig and the rest of the javelin throw team to the other side of the field, I can see proper equipment in the distance.
"This way, sweetheart," Sasha tells me, walking in the opposite direction of the others and taking the relay team with her. I follow spaciously, and funny enough, I'm actually nervous. As if getting shot at or abducted on a daily basis wasn't enough, now I'm expected to impress someone too. I can feel it in my palms, sweaty and clammy, the wobbly knees, a faster heartbeat, the whole works. We stop walking once we hit the marked starting line on the circular track. "Alright, can I get a name?"
"M-Michelle Hue," I spit sheepishly.
"Oooh, pretty name for a pretty girl. Nervous?" I shake my head half-heartedly. "That's great! Okay, today we're going to have you sprint a seventy-five-yard distance as fast as you can three times. You'll start here on the line and finish over there where Abraham is standing. He'll clock the time when you pass the finish line." Abraham gives a thumbs up, hearing Sasha's booming voice loud and clear. "Do you need a moment to stretch before your trial?"
"No, I did before I came," I say while lining up my feet against the starting point. I bend down and place my hands on the ground, and I focus on the track ahead of me, how far away Abraham is, and remember my breathing patterns.
"Ready..." Sasha counts down, "Three...two...one...GO!"
My first step is a leap, driving me forward and placing me in a momentum much higher than a regular step. I'm in a full sprint, my arms swiping through the air in correlation with my legs in a synchronized pattern like I have a military-grade bionic body. My breathing is slow and controlled, my eyes planted firmly straight ahead, and my temperature cool. In what feels like mere seconds, I pass Abraham at mach speed and slow down to a stop.
"Six point seventy-one seconds! That's incredible!" Abraham exclaims, waving the stopwatch at Sasha who jots down my time onto her clipboard. I circle around to Abraham, a new, confident smile overtaking my initial hesitant actions. "Think you can do that again two more times?" he asks me.
I crack my knuckles and say, "No problem."
*** *** ***
The tryouts continue further into the day, but once they got everything they needed from Clyde and me, we headed back to our room for a recap and a change of clothes. Nothing in my gender, it'll be an extensive disguise in this town.
"Wow, seventy-five yards completed in six seconds?" Clyde asks, a twinkle in his eyes showing how proud he feels to hear such good timing.
"It was closer to seven seconds, really. Let me guess, they were all shocked to see your set records?"
He smirks and looks down. "Nah, not really. They said they expected it from me, must've been my arms that gave it away."
"Must have. So, what are we eating today? It's still early."
"Burgers."
"I don't eat meat, you know this."
"Order a veggie patty."
"I don't like the looks they give me when I order specially."
"Since when did you care? Get a salad, then."
"Eh...I'm not really feeling a salad at the moment."
"Starve."
"Clyde!"
"What? You're the one giving me a hard time," he says. I slap him on the arm, and he responds by grabbing my shirt and flinging me on the bed.
"Ack! Okay, I'm sorry!"
"Guys, you know that all of this is recorded right?" Amy tunes in, "If you hit a snag, Adams reviews these logs personally."
"It's okay," Clyde responds, "just showing him who's boss." A monotone ringing erupts in his pocket, and he takes his phone out and answers the unknown caller. "Hello? Yes. That's good news, thank you. Tomorrow afternoon? What time? Same place? Gotcha, see you then." He hangs up the phone. "That was Sasha, there are no more candidates for the javelin team, and my record was the highest, I'm in."
"Did she say anything about the relay team?" I ask.
"No, but if they're still holding tryouts for it, it'll be a while until she calls you."
"Well, congratulations Mr. Strongman. Wanna celebrate?"
"It's 13:40, no drinks."
"I never said drinks, ya alcoholic. Never mind, we should go over the plans now that you're in."
He sits down on the bed with me. "Sure, we can make branches of the existing plan, but we should also make backups in case they decide not to go with you."
I scoff, more harshly than I wanted. "Ha! You have such little faith in me, squad leader. How about a few proud words in my honor?"
"Easy there, little one, don't wanna jinx it, now do ya? Anything could happen, that's why we have loads upon loads of stacked papers filled with contingency plans, no matter how minor the detail."
"You must lose a lot of sleep writing all of those. Sometimes I think your brain is more related to a supercomputer rather than an organ. How many augmentations did you let Ispio put in you anyway?"
He gets off the bed, offended. "I'm basically all-natural, just the same blood bots that you've got. You think I can lie about all this muscle mass?"
"More like 'can't lie about being a huge ass'," I snicker, a sly smirk pulling at the corner of my mouth. I can see him pull back an arm, palm open, aiming for my bare thigh, but my phone rings and he stops himself mid-action. I check the screen, it's Sasha, and my brow quivers once again. I waste no time and answer the call. "Hello?"
"Hi, Michelle! I'm calling because I've got some great news for you, it's guaranteed to get you extremely excited."
"Yeah? Really?"
"Absolutely! Get this, you are the very first runner-up for position 4 in the relay race team. You did so well at tryouts that I just had to include your name in the slots. Anyway, practice is at the same place in the afternoon at 15:00, don't worry about equip---"
"Runner-up? I'm not a position?" I literally want to cry right now! "Somebody beat my time?"
"Oh, no sweetie, it's nothing like that. You are a fantastic athlete, and so professional showing up before anyone else." She goes silent for a few seconds, only letting out a sigh. "Okay, I'm gonna level with you, Michelle, I feel like you deserve it. Position 4 was taken by a relative of someone else on the team. It's not that he beat your time, in fact, he's two whole seconds off, but he's got pull, ya know."
"But you're the supervisor, don't you have a say in it to some degree?"
"I wish I did, Michelle, but it's not a normal circumstance. This family can buy things, and I'm not talking about bribes. If I can just give a harsh opinion, you're wasting your time competing with us small fry. With a record like yours, you should be enlisting in the Olympics, not in local tournaments in tiny cities."
"Thank you, that makes me feel a little bit better."
"Mm-hmm, that's why I said it, and bonus points for it being true. See you at practice tomorrow?"
I pull away from the phone to let out a sniffle. "Yes, I'll be there. Goodbye." I hang up and slouch on the bed.
"Runner-up?" Clyde asks, "That's good, great even. You now have the permission to enter tournaments and have the freedom the explore the area when we need to."
"Yeah, great..."
He sits down with me and wraps an arm around my shoulders. I know he wants to say something to me, to comfort me and tell me he's sorry or that it's going to be alright, but he can't while we're both linked up to Amy. So instead, he just rubs my back and nuzzles my neck.
"Oof," Amy says, "I know that's not what you were going for, Troy, but it's honestly a really good position to be in. I gotta go tell Ms. Adams, she's been in need of some good news."