Post by Julian Bael on Sept 5, 2011 0:03:19 GMT -6
The fluorescent lights ignited white over the open, concrete-walled workout room. Julian kept his finger by the switch, scanning the cold, gray room which he had gotten so used to, like a friend years-old. The weights laid in the back, well organized but stuffed to the breaking point with iron plates he’s found in the many Sanctum raids he led. A small, raised square platform, bordered with limp rope was at the other corner, a boxing ring which he’s yet to do more on besides test the strength of the ropes; unreliable. Mats were stacked on the wall closest to the entrance, with others already laid, lumpy and ripped from overuse from past owners, though Julian surely made it worse. And scattered all around the place were ill-kept treadmills, thinly padded benches, and other metal contraptions tailored to a specific muscle. The raids offered no challenges, no work, only pure monotony and frustration, and as Julian released a long breath, stepping down the remaining stairs to his own private Sanctum, he realized that this was his one release, his one challenge.
He started his workout on the thin blue pads; he stretched his arms and legs intensely, releasing the tension only when the pain spread from the stretching point to his whole body. Then to calisthenics; 4 reps of 50 push-ups, 3 reps of 100 sit-ups, and one attempt at a one armed push-ups… 1 set, 1 rep. Variety of workout wasn’t something he got used to in the army. The failure only raised his ambitions more as he got to the weights. He had usually went 80 on both sides of the bar, but he didn’t feel 100 would be much of an increase. 2 sets of 15 was the normal, but that was cut by 1 set of 5… his muscles were too familiar with the same routine. Frustrated, he walked to a bright red punching bag, gloves placed and fists ready. 15 minutes of punching the thing left him breathless… ‘Man, I gotta stop smoking,’ he thought.
In the corner of a room was a door leading to the kitchen Clementine had approved to set up for him. Julian was no cook, for sure, but Clementine made sure to stick good foods in the beaten refrigerator for him to keep his energy on. When Julian didn’t have a mission, hours felt like minutes; he stayed in this underground gym all day, wasting time on simple exercises and cleaning out the kitchen to satisfy his insatiable hunger. This time it felt different in this place, however. This time he felt a tinge of loneliness, like it should be bustling with energy and action and… people, and there was no one who had the mind or the right to join him here (even though Cain could have, but the guy was too old and… “proper” to join him in the gym. Not like he wanted him there). Was. Now that Tobias was here, all he could think about was how much harder he’d work with some competition, miniscule though the little guy could offer. It was strange that only after a day; he felt a kind of dependency on his company. Julian, recalling his childhood and his time at the army, never really recalled any true, consistent friend, and it felt like he’d been a part of the Sanctum for ages, with bits and pieces of his life void, like a jigsaw puzzle that was missing pieces from its box. Tobias was a good enough guy to be considered a friend… but most of all, he still had a mind. That still confounded him, but he wasn’t about to question the only good thing that’s come about the last couple of years in Julian’s life.
‘He may not even be a work out guy,’ he thought, thinking of all the other differences between him and Tobias, ‘Well, what can he do… maybe he can find something else to do. God knows my life needs some variety.’
He started his workout on the thin blue pads; he stretched his arms and legs intensely, releasing the tension only when the pain spread from the stretching point to his whole body. Then to calisthenics; 4 reps of 50 push-ups, 3 reps of 100 sit-ups, and one attempt at a one armed push-ups… 1 set, 1 rep. Variety of workout wasn’t something he got used to in the army. The failure only raised his ambitions more as he got to the weights. He had usually went 80 on both sides of the bar, but he didn’t feel 100 would be much of an increase. 2 sets of 15 was the normal, but that was cut by 1 set of 5… his muscles were too familiar with the same routine. Frustrated, he walked to a bright red punching bag, gloves placed and fists ready. 15 minutes of punching the thing left him breathless… ‘Man, I gotta stop smoking,’ he thought.
In the corner of a room was a door leading to the kitchen Clementine had approved to set up for him. Julian was no cook, for sure, but Clementine made sure to stick good foods in the beaten refrigerator for him to keep his energy on. When Julian didn’t have a mission, hours felt like minutes; he stayed in this underground gym all day, wasting time on simple exercises and cleaning out the kitchen to satisfy his insatiable hunger. This time it felt different in this place, however. This time he felt a tinge of loneliness, like it should be bustling with energy and action and… people, and there was no one who had the mind or the right to join him here (even though Cain could have, but the guy was too old and… “proper” to join him in the gym. Not like he wanted him there). Was. Now that Tobias was here, all he could think about was how much harder he’d work with some competition, miniscule though the little guy could offer. It was strange that only after a day; he felt a kind of dependency on his company. Julian, recalling his childhood and his time at the army, never really recalled any true, consistent friend, and it felt like he’d been a part of the Sanctum for ages, with bits and pieces of his life void, like a jigsaw puzzle that was missing pieces from its box. Tobias was a good enough guy to be considered a friend… but most of all, he still had a mind. That still confounded him, but he wasn’t about to question the only good thing that’s come about the last couple of years in Julian’s life.
‘He may not even be a work out guy,’ he thought, thinking of all the other differences between him and Tobias, ‘Well, what can he do… maybe he can find something else to do. God knows my life needs some variety.’