New Peaks Academy: Fight School - IC Thread

[Salroka]

Friday, May 13. 3:45PM New Peaks Time

New Peaks' top dog, Shotaro Yanmei, was fresh out of his last class of the day. World History, taught by the esteemed Anna Jacobson. He always hated her super-serious attitude, but she knew her stuff. Not many people could make the less-extravagant bits of the Golden Age of Piracy out to be interesting, but Anna had explained things in such a way that Shotaro was enthralled with researching the history of the East India Company. He was doing just that on his new tablet when he walked over a blanket that someone had laid out in Calinda Park. Well, another of New Peaks' top fighters didn't appreciate Shotaro's rudeness and decided to speak up.

"Well hello to you too, Mister Yanmei. Do you mind? I was spending some time with Boris and you just walked through here like you own the place. Could you at least apologize to him? I think that's the least you could do." Sasha Nowak, one of the strongest Seniors on campus after Shotaro, a member of the Janissaries faction... and the girl who had accidentally paralyzed Boris during the Holiday Tournament. Few aside from her could make demands of Shotaro and actually back them up. She stood her ground and stared down the S1-Ranked Texan, unsure if he'd react harshly or if he would do as she asked.

Not in the mood to scrap at the moment, nor having the desire to further stress a student who had been through as much as Boris... Shotaro put his tablet into the pocket of his cargo pants and turned to face Sasha. "Yeah, my bad. Got exams and the tournament on my mind and shit like that. Didn't mean to interrupt." While it was not his typical reaction, he really didn't want to deal with all the bullshit that would come from fighting around Boris. So with his apology delivered, Shotaro headed back toward Imperius Hall to finish studying.

THAT was put on hold when Elias Palamara rolled backward over one of the couches and walked over with a sour look on his face. "Here's the dirt you wanted on Siu. You're not gonna like it, but here it is all the same." ... well, that was never good. Especially when combined with the fact that Elias left immediately after handing the flash drive to Shotaro. What exactly did he find that put him in such a terrible mood? Normally Shotaro would stop him and ask, but Elias wasn't someone to cross lightly... considering his ability to dig up nearly anything on anyone in school.

Well, this day was shaping up nicely. Suddenly devoid of motivation to study, Shotaro plopped himself down on a chair near the boxing ring Imperius Gloria kept inside their building and watched a pair of students spar. Maybe watching them wail on each other would elevate his mood a bit.

Across campus, at Pho-getaboutit (a Pho restaurant owned by a stereotypical fat guy from New York City), Vincento Sarconni was also just out of class. He'd just finished his pre-algebra class and sent a text out to a few different people to see if they wanted to spar. Only a couple had answered back that they could meet up with him, as most people were busy preparing for exams and whatnot. Of course, the exams were on Vince's mind... but he was more focused on the tournament than the written tests.

Also in attendance at Pho-getaboutit was Kensley Hagebak. The Danish Hwarangdo fighter was still nursing his wounds after he picked a fight with a sophomore, and had just snapped at another student who mentioned the loss. Vincento wasn't worried about him, as the two were leagues apart in regard to skill... but the boy's demeanor made remaining in the restaurant rather unpleasant. As such, Vincento decided to head over to the Student Recreation Center. While en route, Vince sent a text to the people still interested in meeting up. "Heading over to the rec center. Was getting too noisy at Pho-getaboutit. If you're still down for a spar or hanging out, meet me there. Ciao."

All across campus, students and staff alike were preparing for the upcoming exams and tournament. Tensions were high all around, and it was only going to get crazier as the tournament approached.

Just another day at...

NEW PEAKS ACADEMY: FIGHT SCHOOL

[Dawscombine]

One of those people that had responded was Cyst. As was natural of the Russian hobo, she responded quickly, briefly, and with great enthusiasm. She was always pumped up for a fight, and getting to fight Vince was only better, for her. She had waited so long to make him taste her fist... As weird as that is. Still, she ran her way to the meeting spot as quickly as possible, blowing past staff and students alike in her need to beat up that rich Italian boy.

When she arrived, it was before anyone else. Even Vince himself wasn't there, and that would allow her time to recuperate and get her stamina back up. She stripped off the ratty leather jacket to reveal her usual fighting clothes, a worn out sleeveless shirt and a pair of custom made pants, with the insides of both legs cut out in a way that freed movement while preserving modesty, not that she needed that, anyway.

Amaltheia, however was training in a much less... modest manner. She was currently rubbing oil over her exposed skin. Given that she was dressed only in tightly bound rags across her chest and waist, she was doing a lot of rubbing. Across from her were two anatomically correct mannequins, one male and one female. Both were propped onto the stands in traditional Pankration stances. Facing mostly full front, hands held in front of them, legs straight.

She finished oiling up and smacked her biceps, shouting a stiff, quick term of respect in Greek before adopting that same stance, approaching the dummies. First things first. Single leg takedown setups. She performed two quick jabs to the male dummy's chest before coming in low, striking the face with an overhead punch before wrapping one arm around the leg, the other around the shoulders, and lifting the mannequin with a yell. She had put rocks inside the dummies in order to simulate a standard human weight. Rocks that made a rather loud cracking sound as she slammed the dummy onto the floor, breathing heavily. She loved the feeling of tossing a man to the ground. The sound they made when they hit the mat was oh, so satisfying...

[TheDoctor]

Oh. Class is over, then.

Ayame glanced up at the students of her class as the sound of scuffling chairs across polished stone tile filled her ears, her sapphire blue eyes blinking distractedly at the mass of students. Once again her wandering mind had gotten the best of her in World History, and her pencil-equipped hand had taken her notes away to her homeland. Bulleted comments introduced the lined notepad before slowly devolving into elegant Japanese calligraphy and sakura blossoms. It was her second year missing the incredible cherry blossom season, and even a month later she still dreamed of it. Without a doubt it was more interesting than a bunch of dead pirates.

Ah, but Ms. Jacobson was truly what kept her from simply falling asleep in the class. It certainly wasn't her teaching that interested Ayame, but rather her technique. Ms. Jacobson knew Baji Quan, a martial art that she had always lusted to learn. Muay Thai was certainly devastating with longer endurance, and Sensei Kume had taught her well how to be patient with her opponents. But Baji Quan was absolutely brutal. The arts were similar in their expression, and if she were to learn it, she had little doubt that her fights would end in mere seconds.

She would have to ask next semester. There wasn't time to learn, not with the Summer Tournament approaching.

Packing away her notebook into her decorative leather knapsack and slinging it over her shoulder, Ayame rose from her chair and dusted off her elegant indigo and lilac kimono. With a slight adjustment to the wide bow tied around her waist to keep the folds mostly closed, she followed her fellow students from the classroom, her sandals clicking softly with every step. Ever since kimono season had broken out for the year, she tried to wear them as often as possible, keeping in the spirit of spring as the summer grew closer. And with the student body bustling about on such a sunny day, how could she not?

As she exited the academic building, she stopped in the shade, feeling her cell phone buzz through her knapsack. With a huff, she reached to the back pocket and withdrew the touchscreen phone, her penciled eyebrows rising as she read the text preview. Ugh. Of course Erik wants to go to the beach. She rolled her eyes and put the phone away again, moving towards the lawn and back to the center of campus. A typical "oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see the message! Are you still there?" excuse would work perfectly fine, especially if she responded in a few hours. Maybe he would get the picture, maybe he would not. Either way, it didn't really matter.

Maybe a beach visit could be nice. But certainly not with Erik.

Walking down the path alongside Calinda Park, she spotted a familiar face. Sasha, one of the top seniors of the Janissaries, sat on a blanket along the edge of the lawn with Boris. As a late sophomore, Ayame had started to see the more social and technical side of the faction, beyond simple training and feedback, and she understood the role the Janissaries had to play in New Peaks' social scene. It was more than simply trashing Imperius Gloria members; sometimes words were more powerful than fists. That was a lesson that Ayame had learned long, long ago in her mother's lessons, and it was something that Sasha clearly utilized. She was well-known for her talent and skill in the arena, and she exercised that title whenever needed to stand up for the younger or less-experienced.

It was all so amusing to Ayame. Imagine if she were in her place instead.

As she passed them by, Ayame stopped and waved at Sasha, wiggling her fingers perkily and displaying a bright smile. "Hiya, Sasha! Taking time to taper for the tournament?"

---

Clunk.

Clink clunk clink clunk clink.

Faster.

Isabella exhaled as the edge of her hand smacked against the inside of the wooden dummy, the mu ren zhuang. She stepped back and let her fingers trace along the inside of the right arm, her neck rolling back and forth with her forehead shining with perspiration. Her short white hair, along with the two longer braids, was tied back behind her in a small knot, and a loose white shirt stained by sweat was draped around her small torso. She wore slender grey pants that cut off just above the knee--something about "breathability," despite her mother's protests--and worn black cotton fabric flats with little traction.

The first year's last class had let out early--as it typically did--and she immediately relocated to the Rec Center. With the Summer Tournament creeping ever closer, there was no time to waste dilly-dallying in the nice weather. She had hardly applied herself to the tournament last semester, which lead to surprising disappointment on her part. Sure, she didn't care about the actual ranks, but what was she here to do? Practice the same Wing Chun drills, never improving yet never declining in a state of training limbo?

No, she would find what she wanted, but she wouldn't find a single thing if she didn't put every ounce of effort she could towards her search.

Horse stance. Her feet slid shoulder-length, her hips pushing forward.

First section of Sil Lum Tao. Her clothes rustled as she quickly rolled through the beginning of the first form, and her fists quickly returned to her sides.

Begin.

The wooden clunks of her hands and limbs hitting the wooden dummy echoed through the modern "temple," also known as "her corner of the Rec." She could hear the sound of a girl grunting and shouting, coupled with the reverberation of a dummy hitting the ground, coming from the other side of the Rec. She didn't know who she was, for Isabella was terrible with names and face, but that wasn't important to her. While the noises were a tad distracting, she couldn't complain. Although her body made little noise, remaining as efficient as possible in its strikes, every hit upon the dummy was punctual and loud.

Along with that, if she couldn't concentrate on her forms now, then she certainly couldn't in the tournament.

ClunkclunkclinkclunkclinkclunkclunkclunkCLUNK.

Once again Isabella exhaled and stepped back from the dummy. She looked down at her hands, where the ridges and palms were flushed with red under the skin. Harsh callouses of skin, opened again and again with constant chain punches against both wood and fabric, lay across the major knuckles of her middle, ring, and pinky fingers while her index knuckles remained clean. Sifu told her it was a sign of proper punching, with equal distribution across three knuckles rather than two.

With another roll of her neck, Isabella took her Horse stance.

Faster.

[Standatrocity]

Troy grunted in moderate annoyance as his phone vibrated. It did that a lot. He considered not checking it, just for a moment, but more for posterity than anything else; he'd been spending too much time on it recently, potentially missing out on his surroundings in the process. In the end, however, he would never risk passing up a good opportunity if he could avoid it. Indeed, even as he thought, maybe I won't look this time, his hand was already en route to his pocket. He unlocked the device and looked at the text he'd just received. Good thing I looked. Troy hadn't spoken much with Vince since the dinner he'd essentially invited himself to, but he'd been sure to exchange numbers after their somewhat brief conversation. As such, he'd receive the occasional multi-target text, most of which he ignored due to previously established plans. Today, however, he was mostly free to do as he wished.

Of course I'm just going to get my ass handed to me, but whatever. Knowledge is power, I guess. Troy was pretty used to losing most of his fights, but he didn't mind. Although injuries sucked, publicity didn't, and neither did information. For the sake of his made-up career, he could take a few cuts and bruises. He typed hurriedly on the annoying touchscreen keypad, formulating a quick response. Do you mind being recorded? Troy stared at the text he'd written in the message field for a short moment before hastily backspacing it away, lamenting silently over how creepy it sounded. Instead, he simply put, Sure, I have time. When and where?

Sending that one out, he pocketed his phone and continued his lazy stroll about campus, watching fellow students and the occasional staff member run about in a hurry. Summer Tournament, huh? Wonder what I should do this time. Maybe I'll bail early. He recalled the question Vince had asked him at Easter dinner, and his own response in turn. What'd I say, again? Something half-assed. "I'm just not very competitive." Then that robot girl gave me flak again... not that I can blame her. After all, it was a school based almost solely around competition. Saying something like that was grounds for real punishment. Luckily, Vince had seemed pretty determined to diffuse the situation, and Troy got out in one piece as a result.

Not too long after responding, he received another text from Vince. Rec center, huh? Guess he means right now. Better start heading that way. ...Noisy at the Pho place? Damn, wish I'd been there. Probably too late now. Troy adjusted his travel course slightly and started walking in the appropriate direction, passing multiple crowds of people training and sparring along the way. Everyone's getting all psyched up for the tournament. I'm kind of jealous. He had never been a super hard worker, and not knowing a style didn't help that. He couldn't find the will to exercise properly when he didn't have to, and had nothing to practice to keep himself on track. All considered, he wasn't much cut out for this school, yet he didn't feel out of place at all. It took a certain kind of weirdo to attend here, and in that regard, he fit right in. Everyone's got their own agenda. Just because mine's a little different from most doesn't make me special, unfortunately. It really was unfortunate, considering his love for attention. His fanbase wasn't expanding much, mostly because he wasn't doing anything of note. Who'd follow some E2 freshman over someone with clear potential? All Troy had going for him was a flair for the dramatic. This is turning out to be tougher than I'd thought.

Eventually, he arrived at the rec center, walking in looking a bit like a fish out of water. Here he was in a room full of big, sweaty people in fitness gear, while he himself wore a hoodie and a pair of somewhat dirty pants. He didn't seem to notice how out of place he looked, and surrounded by people in weird martial arts get-ups, he didn't truly stick out that much, anyhow. The intermingling voices annoyed him. It wasn't awfully loud, but he couldn't hear individual conversations among the white noise, so he covered his ears as he searched about for Vince. No dice. Must not be here yet. He did manage to spot the girl who'd had trouble speaking at the Easter dinner, but opted not to approach her for exactly that reason. Kind of afraid I'd upset her if I failed to communicate properly.

Instead, he retreated to an emptier corner of the room where there was quite a bit less noise going on. From here it seemed quite serene, save for the occasional noises of primitive force coming from the white-haired girl nearby. Somehow it felt like he was being invasive simply by being in the area -- there was a reason nobody else was there, after all -- but he brushed it off and sat against the wall a safe distance away, pulling his phone out once more. Should I text Vince again? Nah, I don't wanna come off as impatient. Guess I'm waiting. If nobody was approaching that corner of things, nobody would bother him there, either. He could listen to people talking uninterrupted, and at a comprehensible range, which seemed like a pretty good deal to him. Seems it's mostly tough guy talk as always, though. Unfortunately for Troy, most of the people at New Peaks were pretty self-respecting. It was awfully rare to hear any level of gossip going around.

[Iwazuma]

Junkiro, Fight School's Freshman-to-beat, yawned as he strolled out of his last class of the day. It was a sunny, quiet day, the kind he usually reserved to spend on the beach with his boyfriend, Kyami. However, he had recalled Vincento sending him a text regarding sparring practice down at the rec center. He frowned at the thought. Being the Big Fighter on Campus (Freshman edition) had its perks, but certainly had its issues as well. Nearly every day had a new challenge up on the digital challenge board, and he had gotten so many he had had to decline most of them. He was getting fantastically sore from battles every few days, and his record was beginning to reach momentous counts; he was sure he was nearing a New Peaks record of some kind.

And yet, he never really tired of it. Even as he considered his freshman year, he knew he had made so many friends, so many acquaintances through fighting that he could never say no to a scrap if his body could keep up. After all, he had even met his boyfriend that way. So he sent out two texts: One to Vince: 'Cool. Be there in a little bit.' and one to Kyami: "Hey sweetie, gonna go meet Vince at the rec center, hope to see you there <3"

It was with a buoyed mood that he pushed open the door to the rec center and gauged who had arrived so far. He spotted Troy off in a corner-like that was new. This kid was weirder and more secretive than any of his friends, and it always bugged him as to why. He had never seen Troy in combat, so he was unsure why he continued to stay at New Peaks, and if he was any good.

In another corner was Cyst, the enigma. He had 'spoken' with her before, but not often. She was always more geared towards Vincento, he had noticed. Beyond that, the barriers to speaking with her were high, so he didn't always have the patience to type out entire conversations with her. But it was what it was.

And then there was...ugh. Amaltheia. She was one of the few students Junkiro was legitimately afraid of. She was humongous, incredibly powerful, and all that oil did NOT help him with his sticking abilities. He dreaded seeing her in the ring. And that left...who was that?

-------------------------------------
'That' happened to be Ilya Dyatchkina. Taking a bottle of water from her sack, she calmly emptied half of it on her face, quickly guzzling the rest in a display of parchedness not seen since Lawrence of Arabia. Wearing hoodies in 80 degree weather would do that to a teenager. She always wore her favorite purple hoodie when she was out and about; the fewer people who knew about her four arms the better. She did pretty well masking them socially, but when she had tied for fifth overall in the sophomore tournament, she had become much more popular. And with popularity came lack of privacy.

She had come to practice on one of the training dummies for another round of 4-arm boxing, but the place was pretty lively; she, in self-consciousness, had chosen to spectate instead, especially that Amaltheia girl. A young woman with strength that exceeded her own...a fight like that would be brutal if she wasn't utterly relentless on the battlefield. She had watched her reps on the training dummies with an almost intense intrigue, wondering if perhaps she ought to ask her for a spar.

But others were coming in as well. A Japanese boy had just arrived, and she was beginning to wonder why the sudden influx of students was occurring. Usually this place was empty for a little while after classes; was something planned? She'd find out sooner or later, so for now she continued watching the activities of the room; hopefully her boxing tape on her hands would not go to waste, however.

[Dawscombine]

Amaltheia noticed the eyes on her. She had little shame, so she didn't throw on any more clothes. Besides, that would be dishonorable, not to train in as little as possible. Wasn't like she was buck naked. Just close. But she knew that's not why she was being watched. As she released her Achilles hold on the dummy, she met both Junkiro and Ilya's gazes respectively. She was always fond of Junkiro. He was the best freshman in New Peaks, and that wasn't easy. She knew that. Hell, only reason she won her year was her immense luck. She nearly broke some poor saps arm getting carried away on a submission hold, but he tapped out before she could. Still, she knew how scared he was of her. She found it kind of endearing, really. Cute. Still, she was married to her art, and wouldn't try if she wasn't. Never really was interested, in that sort of thing...

Then there was the girl with four arms. Not forearms. Four. Arms. That was new, but not impossible, around here. She didn't know much about the boxer besides that she was a boxer, and the thought of fighting a boxer with four arms made her more excited than it should. Still, she never started fights. Not unless she was insulted. That, too, was dishonorable. She took a deep breath and squared up to the dummy, offering it a bow before smacking her biceps and shouting, "Sas sévomai!", signaling the end of her training session. This place was getting loud, and she wanted to move someplace else. Maybe watch a spar or two in the ring at Imperius Hall. She gathered her dummies, one under each arm, and made her way out of the Rec center, nodding to Junkiro and Ilya as she passed.

She made it to the Hall with little staring. Most kids had gotten used to seeing her like this, and the outside wasn't very crowded, anyway. Everyone was either in their dorms or at the Rec center, or maybe just taking classes other than academic ones. She couldn't imagine learning a second discipline. Pankration was the only style for her. She walked into the boxing ring room and was quick to notice Shotaro sitting at ringside, watching two students duke it out. A kickboxer and a submission grappler, it looked like. She was rooting for the grappler, but that wasn't why she was here. She took a seat next to Shotaro, putting the dummies on the ground in front of her with a grin. "Kaló apógevma, boss. What's got you in such a funk?"

_.-_.-_.-_.-_.-_.-_.-_.-_.-_.-_.-_.-_.-_.-_.-_.-_.-_.-_.-_.-_.-_.-_.-_.-_.-_.-_.-_.->

Cyst, on the other hand, was stringing up her homemade punching bags from the nearest available surface. She had missed Junkiro's surveying the room and, in fact, his entry. She hadn't noticed anyone, since she came in here. She was too busy with preparations to notice. She slipped on a pair of fingerless gloves, a new practice she had taken up to protect her hands, and got to work. Simple strike practices, at first. Palm strikes, knees, headbutts, and some light footwork. If she had noticed Ilya, she would be asking her to throw punches at her so she could train her footwork a little more vigerously, but she hadn't. Instead, she struck the cloth bag with her hands and feet, the worn material looking on the verge of breaking every time she hit it.

Eventually, it went. The material tore hard in the back, and everything she had stuffed into the bag came out. Books, sand, clothes, weights, and the cushioning material so she didn't break her fists. She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. She would clean that up, later. For now, she had to worry about getting ready. She raised her open palms and started doing some light footwork. Weaving, deflection, sidesteps, swinging round to the back, leaning back to avoid strikes. She continued for at least fifteen minuted before she suddenly noticed everyone else in the room, flinching and tripping over her own feet, landing on her rear end. Well, there's a reason most questioned her intelligence, and her difficulty with talking wasn't it. Those scars on her neck and chest were hard to miss, after all.

[Detective Zero]

Among the few that did arrive at the rec center at the behest of Vincento's texts was a blue-haired girl who soon entered the place as well, Kairi Hisane. She didn't much interact with some of the others yet but since the Easter dinner, there wasn't really any harm in getting people's numbers that were there to get in touch. They were all freshmen for the most part and reaching out was a good idea especially since she was a transfer. She missed out on being a part of the last tournament but she was glad she was there to see it at the very least. Grinning a bit, the girl decided to say something corny and dopey before making her way to where everyone might gather, "Hey guys, everyone's favorite blue rose is here. Who's faces are we punching today?"

With a cheeky smirk on her lips, the girl looked around and took in who was here so far. She wondered who was here to spar and who wasn't but whether she would do one or the other depended on a few things. She was always up for sparring but hanging out was always great too. She wondered if anyone else would show up, familiar or new faces - she didn't know who Vincento texted after all, she's no mind-reader. "So.. What do you guys think? Think this tournament may be better than the last? Glad this time I'll be in it instead of watching on the sidelines.."

[Kiro Akira]

Zen took a quick left jab straight to the dummy in front of him only to follow it up with a swift right kick. "One, Two, Three." He continued counting his strikes in a combination of four strikes per set, each one varied on kicks and punches. When he finished each set, he took a step back and lowed his posture into a striking position. From this point, Zen extended his left leg and did a quick low spin kick connecting his leg with the bottom of the dummy and followed this up with a right hand hook. His fighting style required both a punches and kicks to perform. When he was completed with this tactic he reformed his standing posture and started again. He was already in gymnasium A for the last hour or so doing this in an attempt to raise his stamina and focus his attacks much more quickly. Around him there were many other students all practicing their own martial art style and working on honing their abilities. He had a short time before a final tournament and the ending of his first year but he didn't want it to go as bad as the last one did and preferred it went better. His goal? It was aiming for the top of the list. First place, he could settle for second or third but then he would see himself as being weaker then another. He would NOT let this be another case like the last.

Time passed and as Zen grew fatigued and restless he stopped and made his way back to his dorm. Dorm one was his area and had been for the entire year. The one curious thing that struck Zen's mind was if he'd be in the same spot the following year or if they'd be moving him to the second or third one. But that was a thought for the summer. Now he needed to shower as well as grab a bite to eat, possibly heat up some of the left overs in his little mini fridge. Upon reaching the dorm room, Zen unlocked the door and slipped in quietly letting himself fall to his comfy bed and rest for a moment. Shower and food could come next but for now he figured he'd let himself rest for a short period of time.

[Hillan]

Outside of the School Building, two trees stood, old oaks. The trees could be seen from the Rec center, people in the pool could see the top of the trees, and so could those looking on the side of the male dormitories. Between them, two steel wires ran, the wires attached to motors attached into the trees, pulling the clockwise. Attaching 25 Kilogram punching bags to them, eight bags in total. The young man picked up the wooden stick, matching in length and weight to his rapier. Walking into the bags, he quickly had to start dodging them, minding his footwork at every turn as the bags would easily knock him on his ass. It required all of his 3 dimensional thinking to avoid getting smacked in the face. Once he got into the zone, he readied his weapon, delivering swift slashes to each bag, they weren't hard hits, but if he had been donning a sharp blade and fought against human foes they would have cut through skin.

Like a dance, he weaved in and out of the lines, narrowly avoiding the bags, while delivering swift counter attacks with his weapon. His breath got heavier and in five minutes of constant movement, he was exhausted. As his breath ran short, he stepped out from between the trees, finishing his training by spinning around - delivering a powerful kick to one of the bags, the bag denting under his foot. Nero grinned, as he dragged his hand through his hair, wiping off sweat from his forehead.

He headed inside to shower and change out of his sweat pants and tank top. He headed into the male dorms, the ones he lived in, closest to the Rec center. Heading inside his dorm to get ready to go hang out with the others, he heard a few others talk about heading to the REC center after class, he figured he'd join them. Might be a good opportunity to meet new people - or to scrap.
He got undressed and quickly showered before heading towards the Rec center to gather with the others.

He arrived. Unlike most others, he didn't pay much mind to who's who, if people avoiding being assholes to him, he was gonna be equally as gracious to them. He noticed good ol' Hera on steroids - the four armed chick and quite a few others, it was awfully crowded in there tonight. Tying his hair back with a bandanna, he folded up the sleeves on his white dress shirt, waving at someone who waved at him. He walked over to the soda machine and got out a can of vanilla coke, the ice cold drink was pleasant to feel against his skin, putting it against his neck for a second before opening it and taking a large mouthful.

Letting out a pleased sigh he looked around for someone he would recognize.

[Salroka]

(for future reference, anyone interacting with an NPC is free to simply USE that NPC)

Boris chimed in before Sasha could respond, his charismatic smile shining in the midday sun. "And a good afternoon to you, Miss..." Sasha slapped him on the shoulder when he paused and acted like he didn't know the girl's name. "Boris, don't be such a wise-ass. You know Ayame. She's the one who's up for an officer promotion in the Janissaries." Chuckling, Boris thwapped himself in the head before speaking again. "Right, my apologies. Guess ever since my legs quit working, it's affected the blood flow to my brain."

Sasha glared at the wheelchair-bound man in frustration for a moment, then returned her attention to Ayame. "Anyway. Yeah, I figure all work and no play will make me way too tense to perform at my best. What better way to unwind after class than a stroll through the park, right?" Granted, she'd like to be having cigarette at the moment... but she wasn't going to smoke while she was with Boris. "What brings YOU out this way? Looking for Ms.Jacobson again? She went to have a beer at Shootfighter's Saloon, far as I know." Shootfighter's was the Country-Western Steakhouse on the campus of New Peaks. Known for good food, karaoke, and one of the few places that New Peaks staff could get an alcoholic drink... it was one of the more popular places on the island to go for a meal.

Across the island...

Vincento strolled into the Rec Center and was rather surprised at all the familiar faces he saw. Cyst, Kairi, Junkiro, Troy, and others. Were they ALL there to spar with him? The Italian boy certainly hoped not. He'd be an absolute wreck if he sparred so many in one day. His absent-minded worrying was broken by the repeated sounds of wood being struck by heavy blows. Off to one side, a girl whose face he knew but whose name escaped him was hammering on one of the wooden dummies in the northern corner of the gym. That was enough to snap him back to reality, thankfully. Waving at the group of familiar faces, Vince finally spoke up.

"Cosa's, ragazzis? How is everyone? Man... are you all here to fight me?" It seemed to Vince like his plan to guarantee himself a sparring partner by messaging multiple people had backfired in a big way. Then it hit him... the gym had multiple boxing rings that weren't being used... why not split off into pairs and spar as a group? Everyone wins that way. "There's like four rings here that aren't occupied. Let's pair up and practice. I still owe Cyst here a spar from before the Holiday tournament, so I'll scrap with her. Um... hmm. The rest of you can decide who spars who, I guess. I'm not a teacher, so I can't tell you what to do."

Giving a silly salute to the other freshman in the gym, Vincento strutted over to the closest ring and climbed in. He knew Cyst was a skilled Krav Maga fighter, and that was a difficult style to follow with his special ability. He'd have to rely on pure skill this time, rather than memory.

Meanwhile, at Imperius Hall.

Shotaro's entertainment was just about to end when Amaltheia popped in and asked him what the problem was. A good officer, Amaltheia... but sometimes a bit nosy. "Nothing important. Not yet, at least." The kickboxer who was in the ring suddenly cried out in pain as the grappler snatcher her leg out of the air and slammed her spine flat onto the mat. That was it for them both, as Shotaro stood up and climbed onto the apron. "Hit the showers, you two. Can't have you fucking each other up before the big tourney."

Vaulting over the top rope like some kind of luchador, Shotaro strolled leisurely to one corner and leaned into it. He motioned to Amaltheia and cracked his neck. "Let's go, you amazon. I need to let off some steam and you're just butch enough to dull my conscience about hitting women." He was obviously being more friendly with those insults than he was malicious, but even friendly insults might get on Amaltheia's nerves. She was weird like that. Still, a good spar would benefit the both of them as long as they didn't go all-out.