Inner Haven, Barracks Fitness Suite
The pounding thud of first against vinyl filled the fitness suite, each successive blow coming faster than the last, before there was barely any time delay between the absorbed blows, the heavy bag beginning to swing slightly, kept in place by a chain attached to the ceiling, archaic, but just as effective as it had always been.
Currently, Jonathan Huang stood alone, although at the volume he was currently playing music into his earpiece, it wouldn't have really mattered if he wasn't, circling the bag, he attacked it evenly at each angle before moving on, at the same time that he was honing his punches, he to practiced remaining light on his feet, even if it didn't equal a true practice spare by any rate. Bare from the waist up, Jonathan's torso and arms were a network of tattoos and scars, he remembered the origin of each of them, as he himself had said My tattoos are scars and my scars are tattoos, each a memory fought for. The darker color of his skin made the myriad of burn scars across his back and abdomen somewhat less noticeable, achieving a rather rugged look, as opposed to simply appearing disfigured. While it wasn't obvious from the pace he was setting, he'd been training for quite some time, his body glistening with a dew-like layer of perspiration, even as the familiar surge of adrenaline began to take hold, pushing him on-wards through the last few paces.
As this did so, his mind began to slip into the instinctive process of close combat, a faint blue aura forming around his fists as he almost subconsciously manipulated the element zero based gifts he had been born with, before striking once with a biotically charged fist, sending the bag swinging up to the ceiling. It was fortunate he wasn't on par with what he considered 'true biotics' or he may have done rather more permanent damage to said bag, instead he simply hopped out of the way and off the cushioned mat around the bag before it could hit him on the rebound. As he did so, his music died down a barely audible base line. He paused for a minute, breathing heavily as he collected himself, allowing his aggression to melt away, replaced instead with the content feeling of a productive workout, before he hit the showers. Despite what various isotonic products may claim, nothing quite equaled the refreshing power of hot water blasted onto you at high pressure, and with the rather efficient nature of military hardware, John was out and drying within a few minutes, when he got the 'call' to get his ass to the conference room. While on other occasions it may have been prudent to show authority by allowing the rest of the team to wait for him, the boss man was going to be present and on a first briefing, it would be best for him to arrive sharpish, and so he changed into his rather smart variant of the alliance officer garb, the dark blue replaced with black, and the cold highlights with a light blue, as seen on the Aurora insignia (minus the ranking shoulders, which were gold). His hair was generally well kept, if slightly rogue in style, although not to an amazing degree, if he was still in command, he would look presentable.
And so he arrived in the designated room, standing in the generic 'at ease' position of military personnel, his hands behind his back and his feet evenly apart, waiting for both his new team and superior to arrive.