<div class="floatleft">(http://www.campuscircle.com/film/104112.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Victor Creed<br/><strong>Alias:</strong>Sabertooth<br/><strong>Dorm Assignment:</strong>Floor 1, Room 5<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Fitness Center<br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong>September 3rd, Early morning<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Jimmy Hudson Jr.<br/><hr/>If there was one thing that Victor hated, it was getting up early. His body just never seemed to adapt to it, even when his dad had recommended that they adopt a 'military regime' when he was 15 and they would get up at 5 AM every morning, even on Sundays, to go for a jog through the nearby park. They had done it for nearly two years, becoming something of a bonding experience for Victor, his brother and father, and even after all that time, victor had struggled to get his ass out of bed. His dad had mentioned that once his 'body clock' got used to it, it would feel normal, and it had for his brother, but not for him. Even now, he still struggled to wake up earlier than 7 AM. But he realized that in this new place, he might need to adopt a new schedule, so he had set his alarm for 0430 hours.<br/><br/>And regretted it, of course. But he managed to hit the snooze button only three times and dragged himself out of bed at 4:45 and took a quick and icy shower to wake himself up before getting dressed. He had been getting up at six since he had gotten here, but he had a feeling that his new comrades would be doing the same, so he woke up a bit earlier today to see if he would manage to have the facilities to himself for a little while before classes started.<br/><br/>And he had been right for the most part. He took the first 45 minutes of the day to take a run around the indoor track. He had tried the outdoor once before, but had given up on it. It was cold in the mornings here, and at least inside you didn't have the wind chill telling you that you should have hit that snooze button a couple more times. Blood pumping now, he took a quick drink of water before heading to the gym on the third floor, running through a handful of exercises. He didn't go at it too hard, knowing that if his elective training included sparring of any kind, he needed every edge he could get, and he didn't want his muscles worn out and fatigued. He spent 30 minutes on it, focusing more on core exercise than anything else, feeling that thrill that he got when his muscles got pushed. His top limits had jumped upwards by leaps and bounds since he had arrived here. He had been able to bench press 120 pounds when he first arrived. It was now upwards of 200. He liked that.<br/><br/>At 6 AM, he finally ran into someone when he got to the second floor, wrapping his hands in some gloves. He looked over and saw the guy that he had noted earlier. Shorter fellow with blonde hair and intense eyes, looking like he was all fury wrapped in a pocket-sized package. He was hammering at some of the punching bags at the far end of the gym, so he elected to take the other side. He picked a speed bag for starters, striking hard, and fast, getting his hands used to the feeling of hitting something. His rhythm was slow at first but it picked up quickly as he didn't have to think about what he was hitting anymore. It felt more natural, easier as time went on. He moved over to a punching bag now that his body was hot, wiping some sweat from his forehead before taking some time to practice a handful of the combinations that the instructors had passed to him before. None were here now, which was odd.<br/><br/>This last one was a bit more of a challenge than most. Two straight jabs, a weave, pretending that he was ducking under an opponent's right hook and slamming one of his own, feeling a thrill as the 400 lb. punching bag shifted around on it's weight, sliding a bit over it's trolley. He gripped the back close and hammered a knee into where a man's kidney would be, just about, elbow across the chin, another knee and then back blocking a high kick over his jaw with his right arm and leveling a powerful hook with his left before taking a step back, a flying spin and then a high kick with his right leg a half second before his left touched the ground. He grinned. Perfect.<br/><br/>He tried it two more times, missing the landing on the first but correcting it on the second before he came to the conclusion that he had practiced it enough for today. Instructors said that if you practiced a combo too much, you became more predictable in an actual fight. He took another drink of water and wiped the sweat from his face and some off of the punching bag before moving over to Jimmy. The man... well, he knew what he was doing, Victor had to admit. He looked like the bag that he was working on now had fucked his sister and never called her back...<br/><br/>Or whatever was insulting to the guy.<br/><br/>"Hey," Victor said, offering the man a fresh bottle of cool water," Feel like sparring a bit before breakfast?"