Snippet #1696395

Logan had awoken from his power nap. It had been long enough to make his entire appearance change. After getting another shower, his unruly dull brown hair was sitting nicely on his head, his voice didn't sound the least bit gruff anymore and he actually felt a bit better. He lit himself a cigarette with his spider lighter and got dressed in his normal attire. He knew he should probably go out to train, so after getting himself ready to go out the door, he grabbed his spear. He loved the way it felt in his hands, like it was supposed to be: instead, those hands got more action with a scalpel. And they weren't too happy bout that.

He admired his spear for a couple seconds. The way both ends had blades made fighting with them look like a dance, with the sun shining off each end. It wasn't as heavy as it looked, but took time to master how to wield it. The black fibers that ran along the shaft made him smile, remembering his days at the Offensive Melee Section of the School. And because he wanted to make sure he still had it, he walked out the door and out into the training field. He didn't notice his 2 team mates out there, because he went straight towards a section of dummies that hadn't been violently abused yet. When he got there, he took his bag off his shoulder, and readied his stance, just like his dad taught him to so many years ago. His feet spread apart wider than most stances, his right hand behind his back holding the spear in the middle and his left hand in front of him. He then flew forward.

He cut through them with the brutality of any other soldier, but with the grace of a dancer. The spear twirled, stabbed, lunged, smacked and destroyed the dummies, all 12 of them. He stood there, satisfied with his work