The scene unfolds inside the new-and improved HWA Training Academy. It’s late morning and the Californian sunshine is pouring through the windows, flooding the place with light. Throughout the training space, various rings are occupied by trainees practicing their craft, while dotted around the outer spaces, students rest, recover and in the case of one; sits alongside on one of the benches with Hans ‘The Baron’ von Richtoven.
Both are clad in black training gear of shorts, t-shirts and training boots, albeit on Hans’ top, the word ‘coach’ is printed over his right pec. Held in his left hand, palm outstretched is a Microsoft Surface tablet, the index finger of his right hand tracing over a paused image on it’s screen. Sat next to him, the young rookie nods along, as Hans hits another button, unpausing the image and letting it play out.
(Hans): You see, he curls up right there in anticipation, softens the impact that you’re causing.
He thumbs the tablet again, pausing it once more.
(Hans): Next time, consider sweeping his leg out from under him. He’s off balance and his centre of gravity is lower, so that means he’s then having to adjust to you locking in a hold or raining blows on him or even stepping away. You have that moment to make a choice, he’s waiting for you and you can exploit any opening he leaves you as he second guesses.
He hands the tablet back to the rookie.
(Hans): Watch it over, let me know if you see anything else. We can run drills in the afternoon, jah?
(Rookie): Yes Baron.
With a nod of the head towards the rookie, Hans gets to his feet, taking a few steps out towards the centre of the room and casting his gaze around the participants and their current actions, arms reflexively crossing across his chest as he does this.
His eyes flicker from ring to ring, observing silently.
A few seconds pass before his gaze falls onto one ring in particular, currently occupied by both Sean Parker and Jeremy Branson.
Sean has Jeremy planted on the mat, locked into a scarfhold, both men grimacing as they work against one another’s efforts.
Hans strides over towards the ring, coming to rest at its edges, both hands braced against the lower rope.
(Hans): Sean, you’re in a squat, your knee is too high. Jeremy, grasp his trunk, bridge your body.
With a grunt of effort, Jeremy grabs at Sean’s torso, gaining a hold of the t-shirt Sean’s wearing and using it for purchase, follows Hans’ instructions.
Trying to compensate for this, Sean’s efforts are for naught as he loses balance, being swung by Jeremy into a side mount hold.
Somewhat muffled by Jeremy, all that can be heard from Sean is ‘f*ck’ while Jeremy throws a smile at Hans.
(Jeremy): Cheers for that Hans.
Both of them release, sitting up to face Hans.
(Hans): Barring the knee, good effort Sean. Lower it next time, you’ll avoid Jeremy doing that again or…
He points at Jeremy with his left hand.
(Hans): … what else could you have done?
(Jeremy): Er…
(Sean): Hooked my leg?
Hans claps his extended hand now down onto the mat twice, pleased.
(Hans): Jah, exactly.
He steps back from the ring.
(Hans): Go again.
Both Sean and Jeremy nod at him, getting back to their feet and resetting themselves as the camera pans back around to follow Hans through the rest of his considered pacing of the training room.
Over the next few minutes, Hans’ eyes narrow, brow furrowing. He tilts his head back around, scanning the occupants of the room one more time as he comes to the end of his walk through the room.
(Hans): Wo ist er…?
Hans about faces and strides back the way he has walked, back up to the ring where Sean and Jeremy are in. This time they’re both on their feet and clearly discussing their last effort as Hans reaches the ring.
(Hans): Sean.
(Sean): Aye Hans?
(Hans): Have you seen Matt today?
A low exhale escapes Seans lips as his head tilts downwards somewhat, clearly wracking his memory.
(Sean): Not today…
A brief shake of the head.
(Sean): Not for the last few days actually.
A spark of recognition hits and he slaps the side of his left calf as if to accent it.
(Sean): Hold on, he said he wanted to do some training on his own. Found the noise in here a bit much the first few days after his concussion, wanted the space.
Hans mulls this over for a moment, digesting it.
(Hans): Ok… danke Sean, danke…
He moves to step away again, catching himself.
(Hans): If he calls Sean, pass on that I’m asking after him, jah?
Sean nods at this.
(Sean): Course Hans, I will.
A curt head drop is Hans’ response as he now steps back away from the ring and once again resumes his pacing of the room until he comes to the far wall, where he drops to one knee in a smooth motion, reaching into the duffel bag he has placed against the foot of the wall and pulls out his iPhone. His thumb taps the screen, bringing it to life, unlocking itself as it recognises his face. He thumbs at the messages icon, swiping down a few conversations until he comes across one.
Standing back upright, he leans back into the wall, both thumbs typing away.
Hitting the send icon, Hans taps the power button, locking the phone as he then lets it drop gently back into the duffel bag. His hand picks out a water bottle from one of the side compartments, flicking the lid off on it’s tether as he swigs from it.
Once more his gaze drifts round the room, settling this time on a ring where Michelle Learner and Sarah Callahan are sparring, alternating between holds and throws.
Another swig of the water bottle before it too is dropped gently back from whence it came, as Hans makes his way slowly over to their ring.
(Hans): Keep your elbow tucked Michelle.
The scene fades to black as Hans reaches their ring, the two ladies adjusting their positions in response to what he’s saying, now inaudible to the camera.