Post by Rick Fader on Sept 4, 2012 16:33:56 GMT -5
It had been almost a month since the fistfight in the park with his fellow weapon, Bran. Despite the bruises he got, Rick had nothing but grateful thoughts for the encounter. That weapon managed to save him from becoming some bitter wreck, or even worse, a total whiny emo pussy. So instead of crying like a little bitch about his crippled arm, he would instead find ways around it.
And for the past three days, that's exactly what the Demon Chair had been doing. He had been running obstacle courses, had been fighting dummies, even sparring with his classmates whenever he didn't have to eat, use the bathroom, or have to take classes. It was almost frightening, how the weapon was in the gym for most of the day, training up until the point of passing out right on the floor. To most, it seemed extremely unhealthy to be at training this long, and barely take time to stop what he was doing. However, the autonomous weapon didn't even care at this point. He was determined to find a practical way to fight without using his left arm too much.
Garbed in a simple wife beater, track pants, and sneakers, the weapon ran an advanced obstacle course. Weaving through rubber tires at first, the course seemed to be no problem to him. Swinging across the gap was also pretty easy, since he could manage to grip it effectively without having to move his arm upward or backward from the shoulder.
Then it came down to climbing a wall. The weapon struggled as he attempted to climb the wall effectively, the lack of mobility in his left shoulder taking its toll on the demon weapon. Eventually, after wasting precious time, the weapon managed to struggle up to the top of the wall, before dropping down and rolling. From there, the course wasn't too bad, as all he had to do was dive through the opening in the wall, balance himself on beams, crawl through wire. But then, the monkey bars, Rick's established archnemesis, ultimately had to be maneuvered unconventionally, the weapon using it as a sort of ladder. Finally, he finished the course with a pitiful time, due to how the wall slowed him down.
"Fuck. . .", muttered the weapon as he grabbed his towel, drying off the sweat on his body before moving on to practice on some dummies. He would've gone sparring with one of the students, but as of now, he was the only one there.
And for the past three days, that's exactly what the Demon Chair had been doing. He had been running obstacle courses, had been fighting dummies, even sparring with his classmates whenever he didn't have to eat, use the bathroom, or have to take classes. It was almost frightening, how the weapon was in the gym for most of the day, training up until the point of passing out right on the floor. To most, it seemed extremely unhealthy to be at training this long, and barely take time to stop what he was doing. However, the autonomous weapon didn't even care at this point. He was determined to find a practical way to fight without using his left arm too much.
Garbed in a simple wife beater, track pants, and sneakers, the weapon ran an advanced obstacle course. Weaving through rubber tires at first, the course seemed to be no problem to him. Swinging across the gap was also pretty easy, since he could manage to grip it effectively without having to move his arm upward or backward from the shoulder.
Then it came down to climbing a wall. The weapon struggled as he attempted to climb the wall effectively, the lack of mobility in his left shoulder taking its toll on the demon weapon. Eventually, after wasting precious time, the weapon managed to struggle up to the top of the wall, before dropping down and rolling. From there, the course wasn't too bad, as all he had to do was dive through the opening in the wall, balance himself on beams, crawl through wire. But then, the monkey bars, Rick's established archnemesis, ultimately had to be maneuvered unconventionally, the weapon using it as a sort of ladder. Finally, he finished the course with a pitiful time, due to how the wall slowed him down.
"Fuck. . .", muttered the weapon as he grabbed his towel, drying off the sweat on his body before moving on to practice on some dummies. He would've gone sparring with one of the students, but as of now, he was the only one there.
x6