Post by Newton Jones on Sept 1, 2015 23:48:15 GMT -5
► newton Jones  Soldier Sinner Death |
It was a long day, the steel was warped in many places and there might've in fact been blood on the bell sets. It was gross, but it was all he had. His body was aching from age, and sore from the pain of his attempt at working out. He wasn't one for a room of weights, it was pitiful in his mind. the best workout was the fist upon fist, blood for blood. The fight of gods and devils. War, it made men of anyone who dared pick up a weapon. But here he was, no armor, no knife or gun, only his arms, and 225 pounds of weights strapped in on a bar that he would rather be swinging. It had taken hours to reach the level of fatigue he wanted, finally, as it finished he made his way to the locker room to clean himself off, replaced his dressing and retrieve his dufflebag only to be stopped short in the gym. The young man stood halfway from the door and himself, his shirt lay on the floor neatly folded, a familiar pattern. He had just finished pushups, a familiar form. But it was his stance, and his empty gaze that set off the alarms. Newton, the old warrior, a battleaxe with no edge, and this young man, clearly an arrow with no bow. It doesn't take a killer to spot a killer, but it certainly helps. "Jones, Newton Jones, 5392706, 32 years served. Who are you and what are you doing in this school?" He asked, dropping the heavy bag far off to the side, it slid to a halt against the wall as he clenched his fists. He had seen every instructor at least once up until that very moment. He couldn't allow a potentially dangerous man around his kids, even if he was no better. |