It’s Friday morning as the scene fades into the main practice room at the HWA Training Academy in Santa Monica. (Hans): Herr Price, ich habe auch nichts. Another slow exhalation, Hans still calming his heartbeat. (Hans): We both know the history of this federation, jah? The man that sat at the centre of the web and played us off against each other. Reaching back into the duffel bag, another bottle of water is extracted. (Hans): From what I saw when I was on the outside and from what I see now from the inside, things aren’t like how it was in those days. Shrugging his shoulders as he takes a small sip of the second water bottle. (Hans): But perhaps I’m blinded by friendship, jah? Perhaps your cynicism is warranted. What I think more likely is that Butch and Wisdom saw two wrestlers who would just get on with the task at hand, not set fire to the premises, hop in a coach and try to run people over or bite the hand that feeds… das ist their vision, jah? Zwei wrestlers competing. Like Herr Branson unt I at Art of War. Another sip of water, Hans’ heartbeat returning to normal by this time. (Hans): I’ve said many times, I’m not management, I leave that to others. If this is what you think though, jah, I’ll share in your disappointment. But I do think you’re seeing ghosts Herr Price. Capping the water bottle and gently dropping it back into the duffel bag, Hans nods off camera. (Hans): More for you to think on Herr Price I’m sure. The scene fades to black as Hans turns around to face the wider Academy floor.
Coming from off camera, eyes focused elsewhere is Hans von Richtoven. In the background, one or two other people can be seen, everyone focused on their own activities however and so no-one comes close.
Garbed in appropriate clothing for a workout, Hans is sliding the second of his earphones in, the promos from the HWA channel playing on his iPhone.
As is usual for him at this time of the morning, he grabs a mat, sliding it out onto the floor, dropping the phone down next to him. Beginning to stretch and loosen up his muscles, his eyes closed, he works through his routine as the promos play. Before long, he’s transitioning into a bear walk, cossack squat and others before ending with a book stretch.
Coming to both the end of his warm up and the promos, Hans sits cross legged on the mat, taking in what he’s heard from those of the roster that have been on camera and digesting it.
Draconis had been working with some of the students the last few days at the Academy. You’d managed to bump into him and spend a few minutes talking, that was nice to do, even if it had been very much focused on the students and not so much on the aftermath of your last match. It was good to see him very much recovered though, that was something.
Herr Chaos had been silent of late since the threat of legal action from Jeremy and Matt had been raised. Doubtful that would last, but still…
As for your opponent at Helloween Harvest…
Placing those initial thoughts aside for the moment, Hans has by now risen back to his feet and returned the mat to where he’d gotten it from.
Grabbing a skipping rope and taking a few steps back, he kicks out the cord, bouncing up and down on his toes for a few moments before starting proper. While the initial rotations are at a slow pace, the rope is soon a blur as Hans cranks the speed, eyes fixed straight ahead the whole time.
Around him, some students are filtering in, going through their warm ups, all sharing in the same desire to be left alone to get on with it.
Time passes, the tempo remaining rock solid until almost without warning Hans ceases, rope coming to a rest under one foot, arms going loose in concert with the rope as he moves to place it back where he’d found it.
Taking a moment, he wipes the sweat accumulating on his brow and casts his eye around the training area.
A few more bodies, still comparatively empty compared to what it will be in an hour or so though.
He takes a deep breath and walks towards the weightlifting area, where he starts warming up with a set of squats. Continuing this, he grabs one of the bars, setting himself up between the racks and repeating the same actions. Satisfied with his form, he adds weights now.
Quads burning, the final rise is ended with the metallic clang of the bar hitting the rack. Shaking the legs out, the endorphin rush swiftly takes over.
The same routine is then followed out on the bench press, all the while, newcomers filter into the wider training area.
Finished with the bench press, the weights are returned to their original spot, Hans moving over to the battle ropes to finish.
Relaxing his body and muscles as best he can, Hans launches into the motions needed to whip the heavy ropes up and down, the rhythmic thumping of the ropes smacking into the ground filling the air around him.
Pushing himself to exhaustion, the ropes eventually fall limp on the ground as his hands release them. Bent over, sweat dripping from all his pores and still with the same fixed stare, he takes a second to rise upright, hands going to his side as he sucks in air.
Getting the breathing under control, the eyes flutter open and shut, Hans’ senses coming back and letting him take in the rest of the room.
There, by the large windows, two of the trainees had gotten into the practice ring.
By the looks, these were two of the more experienced members of the Academy. Wisdom’s latest intake had been clocked by Hans at other points the past two days but they’d yet to properly interact.
Outside of the windows, several people are jogging on the track.
Back near the entrance, there’s a small group clustered around another of the trainers going through what they’ll be focused on for the morning session.
Hans makes his way over to his duffel bag, slung against the wall and digs out a hand towel with which to wipe away some of the sweat from his face as well as to take out a bottle of water which is drained in rapid fashion.
It’s by now that he recognises the camera.
Motioning it towards him, he steadies himself, dabbing away at the sweat once again.
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