Post by Odin Reeves on Feb 28, 2007 21:46:45 GMT 1
The future…
Two nights ago Odin had finished climbing to the top of an underground tournament. He broke through the competition and won himself the title of tournament champion. He had signed his John Hancock a few times, ‘lost’ the towel he used to dry himself, and collect the sum of money that came with the victory. In terms of reputation at Hircine High he had nothing to worry about. He was no longer considered just-another-cocky-Varronite, but a respected – or feared – fighter who chose to keep to himself. One could speculate that he had everything he ever wanted, which was to finish high school in peace while participating in a few more tournaments. At time he’d have to up-hold his side of the deal, and remove a few ‘bullies’ from the hallway spotlight, but aside from that he was free to live. The question adorn on Odin’s mind however had to do with what his life was to become.
By all means he should’ve graduated last year, and would’ve with rather average grades had it not been for the riot breaking out and the school closing down. He realized he played a part in this by helping to defend the edge, thus starting the series of events that had built up the tension between Legion members and The Hand. But after school he really had no plans for developing his future. He wasn’t planning on going to college, at least there was no planned out major. He expected to continue working at the Edge, keep training, and keep fighting here and there. But now he had no job, had a good majority of the school year before he graduated, and only had one thing going for him.
Tournament Champion.
“How long has he been here?” The owner of the local Gym asked with a gesture from his thumb.
“Since six this morning.” The assistant manager responded while looking at the only individual in the gym.
“It’s what, going on to two-thirty now?”
“Yep. He’s a machine.”
With a final grunt Odin brought his knees back, slowly lowering the entirety of the weights that the leg-press held. His hands loosened around the two grips on either side of his sitting body while he leaned forward, checking the total amount of weight he had lifted. It totaled over one thousand while in the air, a heavy amount to have been lifted in the five separate sets of fifteen that he had done. 75 individual lifts, all done with control, had caused his knees to ache, his quads to pulsate, and his mind to buzz. This was his third time running through his 2-hour routine, the next and final destination of his workout being the heavy bag.
Standing up Odin jogged with a soft pace across the floor, stopping in front of the near immovable punching bag. Bouncing lightly on his toes Odin began throwing out 1-2 combinations, each time using both hands to the best of his ability. After roughly two minutes he began to circle around, making it half way around the bag before turning back, making sure he was equally able to move either way with ease. Another two minutes passed, thus Odin brought forth more explosive combinations. Jab, reverse, front-hand upper cut to the body, right hook across the face. Pure and simple he did this bouncing in front of the bag, the indentations from his fist clearly visible from across the room. After awhile, the time limit indecisive, Odin went into freestyle, which consisted of switching into a southpaw stance. His freestyle striking died down to a complete stop as Odin restarted his striking routine. Jab-reverse for two minutes, followed by circling, followed by stationary combinations.
Two nights ago Odin had finished climbing to the top of an underground tournament. He broke through the competition and won himself the title of tournament champion. He had signed his John Hancock a few times, ‘lost’ the towel he used to dry himself, and collect the sum of money that came with the victory. In terms of reputation at Hircine High he had nothing to worry about. He was no longer considered just-another-cocky-Varronite, but a respected – or feared – fighter who chose to keep to himself. One could speculate that he had everything he ever wanted, which was to finish high school in peace while participating in a few more tournaments. At time he’d have to up-hold his side of the deal, and remove a few ‘bullies’ from the hallway spotlight, but aside from that he was free to live. The question adorn on Odin’s mind however had to do with what his life was to become.
By all means he should’ve graduated last year, and would’ve with rather average grades had it not been for the riot breaking out and the school closing down. He realized he played a part in this by helping to defend the edge, thus starting the series of events that had built up the tension between Legion members and The Hand. But after school he really had no plans for developing his future. He wasn’t planning on going to college, at least there was no planned out major. He expected to continue working at the Edge, keep training, and keep fighting here and there. But now he had no job, had a good majority of the school year before he graduated, and only had one thing going for him.
Tournament Champion.
“How long has he been here?” The owner of the local Gym asked with a gesture from his thumb.
“Since six this morning.” The assistant manager responded while looking at the only individual in the gym.
“It’s what, going on to two-thirty now?”
“Yep. He’s a machine.”
With a final grunt Odin brought his knees back, slowly lowering the entirety of the weights that the leg-press held. His hands loosened around the two grips on either side of his sitting body while he leaned forward, checking the total amount of weight he had lifted. It totaled over one thousand while in the air, a heavy amount to have been lifted in the five separate sets of fifteen that he had done. 75 individual lifts, all done with control, had caused his knees to ache, his quads to pulsate, and his mind to buzz. This was his third time running through his 2-hour routine, the next and final destination of his workout being the heavy bag.
Standing up Odin jogged with a soft pace across the floor, stopping in front of the near immovable punching bag. Bouncing lightly on his toes Odin began throwing out 1-2 combinations, each time using both hands to the best of his ability. After roughly two minutes he began to circle around, making it half way around the bag before turning back, making sure he was equally able to move either way with ease. Another two minutes passed, thus Odin brought forth more explosive combinations. Jab, reverse, front-hand upper cut to the body, right hook across the face. Pure and simple he did this bouncing in front of the bag, the indentations from his fist clearly visible from across the room. After awhile, the time limit indecisive, Odin went into freestyle, which consisted of switching into a southpaw stance. His freestyle striking died down to a complete stop as Odin restarted his striking routine. Jab-reverse for two minutes, followed by circling, followed by stationary combinations.