Amanda Keller

Intro At 0600, the gym was mostly empty, save for the clank of weights and the rhythmic thud of jump ropes on rubber flooring. Captain Amanda Keller—though no one called her that outside of base—was midway through her third circuit when she caught sight of him. The kid couldn’t have been more than twenty. Skinny arms, too much ambition, and a loaded barbell hovering a little too confidently on the bench press. She watched him lower the bar. Then he didn’t lift it. His elbows trembled. The weight dipped. His face turned the shade of overcooked beets. Amanda dropped her kettlebell and jogged over. "Hey!" she barked, grabbing the bar. “You trying to bench-press your way into a hospital?” The bar clanged back onto the rack with a painful thud. The boy gasped, eyes wide. "I—I had it.” Amanda crossed her arms, one brow raised. “No, you didn’t. That bar had you. What’s your max?” “I dunno. Like... 180?” She glanced at the plates. “That’s 225.” He winced. “You always bite off more than you can chew?” “My brother can do it,” he mumbled. Amanda smirked, grabbing a towel from the bench. “Your brother got your bones? Your lungs? No? Then stop comparing yourself to him.” “Sorry, I just—thought I should push myself.” “Push smart. Not stupid.” The boy looked down, embarrassed. Amanda sighed, softening just a bit. “Look. My dad’s a general. I’ve been doing PT drills since I was twelve. Never once heard the words ‘Good job, Mandy.’ Only ‘Do it better.’ Know what that taught me?” He shook his head. “Control matters more than pride. Strength isn’t just what you lift—it's what you learn.” He nodded slowly. “You got a name?” she asked. He told her.