Isaac

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	The rhythmic sound of laboured grunts was broken only by the equally uniform counting of a solitary male voice. “Ninety six…Ninety seven…Ninety eight…Ninety Nine…” he said, calm and comforted by the momentary solitude. He had snuck into the cargo hold some time during the lengthy flight to Beacon: and had used the opportunity for self-betterment. He hung upside down, knees wrapped around a tall hang-rail as he performed mid-air sit ups. The youth had stripped himself of his shirt, and worked tirelessly in order to attain some sort of sweat: which he had apparently succeeded in. 

The announcement of the ship’s landing in five minutes was the alarm clock that the young hunter-to-be needed in order to achieve the motivation required in order for him to disentangle himself from the repurposed hang-rail. He would happily have continued the exercise regime in peace: as certain tranquillity could be found in the act of burning away his trivial thoughts in a pursuit of perfection: a much more constructive use of his time than the otherwise fleeting thoughts that came with boredom.

Alas, his start to the academy was already likely to be rocky: and he didn’t need a reason to further exacerbate his likely tumultuous start. The fact that he had hospitalised his opponent in the placement match, some dirty Faunus rat, had reached a few local newspapers: and he had been awarded at least a couple death threats from members of the White fang: through letter, of course. None of the disgusting creatures would dare approach him for actual combat: they would only try and elicit fear through threats of violence: never through actual action. Another of the growing list of faults amongst the Faunus scum he’d encountered. 

The scum could at least show the backbone that wild animals had: that would make a refreshing change.

Still, the young man fully dismounted from the hang-rail and wiped his brow with a nearby towel. He had set up the location with a uniformity that was close to military in its precision and everything seemed to have a place: His towel was prepared three feet from the place of exercise; his shirt was folded up next to that, and an bag, devoid of anything except a bottle of water, a pair of Javelin bayonets and his music player was directly beside the shirt. It took a grand total of a minute for the youth to prepare him physically and mentally for the drag that was to come. He was dressed in loose jeans and a button up shirt, with the two bayonets strapped onto his back. His headphones thumped the rhythm of a popular rock song, leaving the normally bored Isaac with a smile on his face. Music was a precious distraction to him: and he enjoyed the moments where he could steal time to listen to the thumps of whatever band had taken his fleeting fancy.

Despite the musical ambience that surrounded it, Mundanity quickly returned as Isaac snuck out of the cargo hold and back into the ship itself. He waited for the dull ‘thud’ of the ship’s landing to reverberate through the corridors before he began moving towards the exit. Isaac preferred to let the cattle exit first.

Isaac exited the ship with well over twelve minutes to spare before the horde of students was required to arrive at the Amphitheatre. He saw that a large mass of students were gathered around a message board and a moment of confusion crept over Isaac. Why were so many people gathering around the board? Surely it made more sense to head for the centre of the compound itself…towards the very large circular building in the middle of it. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what an amphitheatre looked like.

Isaac had a large rucksack hoisted over one shoulder as he paced towards the amphitheatre with a calm and singular confidence. He hadn’t inherited any compatriots from his old school: most of them having moved away from the path of the hunter and on to more profitable exploits or educational institutions. Only the Markeel family had stuck with the Hunter’s route. All that Isaac had inherited from his time before Beacon would likely be a reputation for success and cruelty.

At one point, Isaac noticed a clearly romantic couple of Faunus. The pair happened to be holding hands, and seemed to be moving towards the amphitheatre with a skip in their step. Isaac felt his spare hand inch towards the bayonet at his side, before he reeled in his aggressive urges. 

Isaac felt the bile rise in his throat: before spitting it onto the floor in disgust. “Bah, Filthy creatures.” He said