'Devon breath forcefully from his nose, ducking into his opponent's guard and releasing an explosive punch at it's midsection. The evil foe was taken aback by the strong jab, but, after swinging backwards, it blasted forward for it's own hit, only to be redirected by the black-haired boy's bandaged forearm. Devon twirled with the block, bringing his toned leg up to release a sharp snapkick at the enemy, launching it from it's rope and sending it flying across the battlefield...'

"Woosh." Devon panted, reaching out a hand and grasping the cold bottle of water that sat on his computer desk. On the far wall, a stack of large, heavy white punching bags rested messily on top of each other, dripping a small amount of sand on the oddly clean floor. His entire room was tidy and clean - a testament to his apparently rich lifestyle. The walls were painted a dark, fiery red, and the ceiling was a sky blue, the floors a marble white. His king-sized bed, which filled up an entire corner spot, was tidy and clean, while his computer desk, leather lounge chair, and newly created Gaming Laptop sat near the bed. In the middle of his ceiling, multiple punching bags hung from sharp metal chains.

The boy release another pant, downing the entire bottle of water in one go. A careless toss threw it over his shoulder, and out the window of his apartment, where it landed in the dumpster most-likely. Training was going very, very well - he had a championship MMA match upcoming in the future week or so, and it would decide one of his many scholarships for a college of his choosing. Pretty important and cool, if he had to be honest. "Oh, yeah, and that SBURB thing..." Being on such a strict schedule, Devon didn't have much time for games or socializing online, but he somehow found time for his internet friends. They were pretty interesting and awesome, despite being on different parts of the world.

He wore nothing more than boxing tape around his hands and forearms, along with loose white shorts with red flames and swirling black vortex patterns. He didn't wear a shirt, considering it would have probably heated him out - have to let the abs and pecs breathe, after all. Devon collapsed into his lounge chair, boredly rolling around and quickly typing into the code for his laptop. Click, click, click...he signed into his account - deviantKing - and quickly went through his list, keeping his mood as 'Smooth'.

-- deviantKing [DK] began pestering spasticOstrich [SO] at ??:?? --

[DK]: Yoyoyo.
[DK]: I have SBURB...pretty cool I guess. Do you have yours yet?

Devon leaped off of his chair, landing on his finger-tips, where he began doing one-handed pushups whilst waiting for a reply, crimson eyes narrowed in determination. His lean, muscular body began pumping out the repetitions. He couldn't stop the sweat until his quota was finished for the day. His copy of SBURB lied somewhere on his desk...