The scene opens up onto the outside training area at the HWA Academy. It’s late afternoon, the Californian sun beating down relentlessly and bathing the grounds and the occupants of the area in its scorching heat, nary a cloud in the sky for some respite. (Hans): Well done, all of you. I know we have treadmills inside but you need to be alternating your training patterns for building the stamina you’ll need for a full length match and event. You may find yourself lit up under the spotlights or be in an open air arena one of these days and find yourselves ill-equipped to pace it. Now… He gestures at a cooler trunk under the canopy next to the bleachers. (Hans): Everyone grab a bottle. We all need to hydrate. Clapping his hands for emphasis, the trainees flock to the trunk, one taking the lead and opening it, passing out the water bottles. (Hans): Not so fast this time, jah? Patting the trainee on the shoulder, he stands upright. (Hans): Right, there’s room for you in this shade, take five, hydrate and then get yourself back inside. Nods and vocal acknowledgements sound off around him as he takes a few steps out of the canopy and back into the sun’s glare. (Hans): Matthew. (Red Dragon): Hans-san. The two bump fists, Matthew then politely shaking his head and declining the proffered bottle of water held in Hans’ other hand. (Red Dragon): You need it more my friend. Hans chuckles at the polite rebuttal despite the scorching heat, before taking a swig from the bottle as the two of them take a few steps away from the canopy and back onto the track. (Hans): You want to join next time I put them through one of these sessions? (Red Dragon): I’d be happy to, but you have a knack for scheduling them when I’m teaching grappling to our latest members. (Hans): Convenient that these classes never seem to be on the schedule when I look… (Red Dragon): You must always be ready to learn at a moment's notice, I instill this in them from the moment they step foot into this academy. The two walk a few further paces before Hans side-eyes his friend, an eye brow visible as it arches up above the shades. Serenely staring straight ahead, Matthew does not react immediately. A few more seconds pass before they both chuckle with amusement, Hans then draining the remaining water from his own bottle. (Red Dragon): Are you any closer to finding somewhere to stay? (Hans): Nein, not yet mein freund. We saw a few places yesterday, one or two were… He waggles his hand, palm out indicating they were ‘so-so’. (Hans): … and the others were… He trails off, unwilling to finish. (Red Dragon): Were what? (Hans): Gaudy? (Red Dragon): Hans-san, you have an apartment in the Empire State Building, and you’re calling something in Santa Monica ‘gaudy’? (Hans): I’m not going to take architectural lessons from you mein freund. These places were like stepping back in time to the 70’s, not in a good way. Another few paces happen in silence. (Hans): Anyway, why are you so keen to ask, looking for an excuse for a house warming are you? (Red Dragon): Butch has the energy enough for all of us, it wouldn’t matter if I did or didn’t want to have one, we’d be having one. The two both smile at some past memory they share at that point of time. (Hans): Speaking of Butch, or rather, his far better half… you still in the dog house with Wisdom then? (Red Dragon): I’m letting sleeping dogs lie for now. I hope she knows I had good intentions with Matt-Kun but it’s not worth pressing. She and Butch have enough going on at the moment. (Hans): A women scorned… The two men smile at this, continuing on their slow walk on the track. Around them, some of the trainees now start to make their own way back inside the academy, trooping towards the door in a gaggle. (Hans): Look at them go… think you’ll be able to do ring-work with them later on? (Red Dragon): Hmm… He casts an eye over the trainees for a second, before looking back at Hans. (Red Dragon): I’m not going to give them a choice Hans. (Hans): So sporting Matthew… (Red Dragon): Did you give them a choice before dragging them out here? (Hans): Touché. Again, a comfortable low laugh emanates from them both. (Red Dragon): How does it feel for you though my friend, being back in the ring so much now? (Hans): What do you mean? (Red Dragon): Do you miss it? The competition? (Hans): Verdammt Matthew… always. It’s only been 6 months since my last match but… He searches for the right words for a moment, hands moving in front of him as if rooting for a physical thing. (Hans): It’s like an itch you can’t scratch, jah? (Red Dragon): Hans-san, that’s exactly it. (Hans): You? (Red Dragon): If you’d asked me that when I came over to watch you in Nagoya last year, no… I was too fixated on my work here. He waves an arm out, gesturing at the Academy off to their side. (Red Dragon): This place had broken ground, the contracts were still being finalised and we’d taken on new staff and new talent in preparation for what we’re getting to do now… (Hans): But now that’s done, you got that itch, jah? (Red Dragon): That itch, that feeling… hai. Hans claps his hand on the back of his friends shoulder. (Hans): Well mein freund, let’s best get back inside then, work on that. The scene slowly fades out to black as the two men begin to turn and move towards the Academy building proper.
There’s an athletic track, standard length of approx 400 metres and it’s being used at present. Some bleachers and a canopy covered section dotted around its interior break up the grass surrounded by the orange and white striped track.
The camera tracks some of the runners making their way round the track, a few of them bunched together and going strong, others flagging or streaking ahead and all thoroughly drenched with sweat from their efforts.
The camera pans around, following one of the runners round the far edges, somewhat out of focus as the bleachers and canopy conspire to block the line of sight, the haze from the warm air adding to the mix.
After a short while as the runner begins to loop around, Hans von Richtoven emerges into clarity, electric blue running shoes, black shorts and a sleeveless white singlet adorn his frame while his eyes are obscured by a pair of Rudy Project Propulse shades, the orange tint of the reflective surface bouncing back the camera’s gaze.
Twice more he loops round, pace remaining the same throughout, some of the other runners able to do so themselves and others flagging yet further.
Pacing his steps as he comes up to the starting markers, he peels off the track and towards the bleachers, coming to a slow stop.
Around him, the runners mimic his actions as they to come round the track and towards the starting markers.
Before long, he has a crowd of 15 or so, male and female trainees of the academy, some gasping for air, others better equipped and coping with what he’s put them through.
Hans accepts one himself with a nod of thanks, popping the cap and sipping it slowly.
One of the trainees takes a reaction, clearly having pushed themselves during the run, vomiting back up the water almost as soon as it hits their stomach. Involuntary cries and laughs from the others are silenced just as soon as they began as Hans brings the trainee under the canopy proper, sitting them down and gesturing at one of them for a towel and one of the other bottles remaining in the trunk.
Drenching the towel with the bottle of water, he wraps it over the trainee’s head and shoulders, another bottle being passed by another of the rookies.
From off camera steps Matthew Kiriyama, better known of course as Red Dragon.
They walk in silence for a few more moments, taking in the view around them.
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