C'mon Krius, don't slow down, don't stop until its over! Krius was breathing heavy now, sweat dripping down his body like rain drops on a windshield. He had developed a rhythmic breathing pattern, something to focus on so he could ignore the burning pain in his legs, shoulder, and back. It was the same pattern over and over again, the only difference was in the volume. He was breathing so heavy now that he could hear it over the Ships music.
You idiot, don't breathe so loud! Krius suddenly remembered that heavy breathing was a sign of weakness, and he quickly brought it down to the lowest level possible.
Come on Krius., you can't slack off, not one bit. You already lost once, now do you want it to happen again?
The thought of the fight angered Krius. It was rigged, he knew it, but it didn't matter. If he would have knocked the opposing fighter out then he would have won hands down. But he didn't. This brought him back to training, but even worse then before. He had deserved this punishment, and if he wanted that win bad enough then he would do anything to get it.
Krius couldn't even begin to count all the times he had mentally challenged himself. The worst time was when he forced himself to eat some kind of unknown substance. It was supposed to be eaten when hot, but they said it was more nutritious when it was eaten raw. It was the worst tasting thing he had ever tasted in his life. The substance's texture was thick rather then smooth, making it harder to swallow, and even worst to taste. But Krius had done it, as well as many other devious tasks he challenged himself to.
A high pitched beep signaled that the run was over, and Krius happily hopped off the running machine. Krius' chest heaved up and down, not seeming to fill itself with enough air then it already had. He quickly paced around, staring straight ahead as usual. Krius quickly walked over to his R-2 unit who had prepared a bottle of water for him. Krius quickly chugged it down, crushing the plastic bottle and throwing it into the garbage center. He then resumed to pacing around, trying to keep his legs as warm as possible.
If he sat down, he would have to start the whole training regime over again. Sitting down was also bad when working out, you had to keep your body constantly moving for max stamina and muscle mass development.
"Tonks," Krius called to his droid through stifled breaths. "Bring out the bag."
The R-2 was right on it, not waisting any time. Krius turned to the right, waiting for "The Bag" to appear. The muffled sound of working mechanics could be heard from above, and seconds later, a black bag dropped out of the ships ceiling. Yes, it was an ordinary bag, there was nothing special, no hight tech gadgets, no custom made hide, and no weapons system. It was just an ordinary Punching Bag.
Krius walked up to the worn out bag. It was holding up well, only a gash near the upper portion could be seen. Other then that, it was perfectly fine. Krius would have to do this tedious work for twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of flying fists and feet.
Krius waited for the high pitched beep that would signal the start of the exercise. Krius got into his stance, squaring his shoulders and bringing both fists to about nose level. He started to lightly hop on his toes, but soon stopped after remembering the gravity well that was pushing down on him.
"GO!" Krius shouted as he heard the signal.
He quickly came in at the bag, his eyes filled with anger. Krius let the first combo fly, feeling his knuckles touch leather as they collided with the suspended bag. A muffled thud resounded off the bag with every punch he threw at it. As Krius threw punches, he also circled the bag, adding a round kick every so often and an elbow or two when he felt it was necessary.
Krius was in the zone now, not feeling the pain of his bleeding knuckles or the burning sensation that now encased his body. He was throwing everything he had at the bag, treating it like Varden, the man who would bring him to the pro's....
Varden...
The man leaned over the sink, inspecting his facial features.
"Hmmm, seems I need to shave," said the man to himself as he rubbed the beard that had now taken the remainder of his face. His black eyes were blood shot due to the deprivation of sleep, and his nose was abnormally big.
Seems I'm going to need some surgery pretty soon. My nose is disgusting... I have to stop letting it get broken, thought Varden as a smirk snaked its way across his face.
Varden took his hands off the sink, not really caring to much about the way he looked. It didn't matter how ugly you were in the fighting world, all that mattered was winning. That was what also mattered to Varden most. He valued it over anything, even more then family. The universe only loved winners, not losers. This was a proven fact, at least in Vardens point of view. His coach also drilled it into his head every day, and when he lost, The Coach made SURE he paid the price.
Varden walked out of the bathroom and into his bedroom. He stopped for a second, admiring the trophies that circled the length of it. All these trophies that were here were earned by him. He had won them all through dedication and hard work. He never took the easy way out, and due to that reason, this was why he was a champion.
A low rumbling sound could be heard coming from his bed-side table. Varden walked over to it and picked up the device that was making the sound, a Comlink. He pressed the answer button, and put it to his ear.
"Varden here," said the scruffy man in a monotone voice.
"Ahhhh, Varden," said a familiar voice on the other line. "I'd like to inform you that the big fight takes place in two weeks. How is training going?"
A frown made its way across Vardens face. "Its going just as planned, if not, better."
"Ahh, thats good to know. Are you taking the supplements?"
An image of a needle flashed through Vardens head at the mention of the supplements. "Yes. Three times a day just as ordered. They're working, but the side effects have put me through much pain... I want to stop taking them. If I keep going like this I won't be able to fight. I haven't had a full nights sleep in one month! Why do I need them? I've won fights without them, what makes this guy so different from the rest? W-"
Varden was suddenly cut off by the man on the other end. "I've told you already!" The man shouted, his voice getting very high pitched. "Your opponent is also taking a similar substance. If you don't take this, then I can guarantee you will not win the fight. Now you don't want that? Do you?"
"N-No, I don't. I'll do anything to win. How much longer must I take this for?"
"I'll give you one more week, then on the day of the fight I want you to take a three days worth in one injection. That should give you enough to match his power. Think of it as a regular match, and you don't have to worry about a thing."
"Alright. I'll continue as ordered. Thank you very much sir."
"No need. You know what I'm putting into this fight right? Just go out there and win for me. If not, then I'll have you thrown out for good. No more second chances if you lose this fight, understand?"
"Yes sir, I understand. I'll do anything in my power to win this fight."
Varden waited a couple of seconds, and then the line went dead. He pushed a hand through his curly locks, and let himself fall on the bed.
Krius
"Woo! Way to work a sweat! I was on fire!" Shouted Krius enthusiastically. "If I can keep going like that for the whole day, then maybe I don't have to do the extras..."
Krius thought about it for a second, and nodded his head. He would do the extras, just because they would make him a better fighter. Little did he know, Varden, his enemy, was putting everything on the line to win this fight. Krius would be in for one hell of a ride, and also one hell of a fight. Now all he had to do was keep going like this for one more week, and he would be done.
Just one more week baby, one more week...
(1500+ word count)
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KaphSquadron
EFM/ LCR Krius/ Kaph 11/ Wing 2/ mSSD Atrus/ Pheonix Wing/ VEN/ VE/ (=A=)
Krius=Leon
Elite Squadron Flight member Kaph 11.
