Donald entered the gym dressed in a plain white t-shirt, grey gym shorts and a pair of black trainers. He perused his surroundings for a moment or so, familiarising himself with his current setting. He noticed a couple of punching bags in the corner and grinned. Something he was finally good at. Fighting. Even if it was just an inanimate object, Donald would be happy to get his hands on something. He clenched his fists and slowly walked over, preparing himself. He hadn't fought anything for a while, so he was a little bit rusty, but what's the worst that could happen?
He started off with a few warm-up punches. A couple of left hooks here, some right hooks there. Sometimes he even brought a knee into the equation, after training for a week or so with an MMA trainer. Donald thought that any type of combat would come in handy one way or another when or if he got deployed into the field. He was a fairly large, muscular, intimidating male and that was why he got classed as a 'heavy' soldier. He got to carry the light machine guns and the rocket launchers, and he loved every single minute of it. It made him feel a class above the rest.
After hitting the punch bag for just over twenty minutes, Donald got bored. He punched the bag one last time before stopping. As he walked to the next activity, people began walking past, to the ring. He turned, to see two other soldiers of ParaCom about to fight. Donald became interested and followed the crowd over. Two men were in the ring, holding blades. One of them sounded English, so Donald decided to root for him, on account of coming from the same country. As they began, Donald started shouting encouragement for the fellow Englishman, in amongst the shouts of the other watchers.