[center][h2]Gymnasium[/h2][color=Firebrick]Charles "Kaiser" Faust[/color][/center]

Some things never change, that much is true when it comes to the common human; however there are always exceptions to any rule. Charles Faust was one such thing, a man who changed and then changed forever more- an ever evolving individual with forever growing interests. But one thing stood true for even him and that was his love for training. No matter if it's mental or physical, he simply enjoyed the tensioning of his muscles as he swung a sword or the feeling of mental strain after having performed an intense session of whatever he'd find himself to do that very moment. He was a strange man, and this was claimed by many around him- not directly, but behind his very back.

This reminiscance was a sufficient brain excercise as he hugged the throttle of his motorcycle and almost flew forwards across the many meters of road around the city, around Match Academy. The reason he'd been put here is much unknown to him, but in reality he's probably got the most plausible answer at the top of his tongue. 

>Amazing pun in 3... 2... 1...

"[color=firebrick][i]This roar is only one way to let off some exhaustion[/i][/color]" He thought as he put on the highest possible throttle and quickly his motorcycle roared to life, much like a tiger displaying its dominance, this bike roared at the other vehicles to display its pressence amongst the hierarchy. 

All teens were rebellious and Charles was far from any exception; but at the same time he was. Whilt he's almost disowned his connections with his rich parents and their unethical accomplishments, he can sense that they aid him in his personal fight against the laws which bind him to boredom. This caused him to almost flash ablaze in anger. 

"[color=firebrick][i]Almost there.[/i][/color]" He spoke beneath his helmet, barely even audible to himself under the sound of his bike racing forwards along the road, going between and any-which direction it would take to pass the other vehicles on his path. But where was he going, some may ask?

It was an easy choice for Charles, he's always enjoyed training- he loves the sword which his parents brought back to him, therefore there's only one real place he could go; the gymnasium. 

After a couple minutes of driving like a death wishing lunatic and experiencing the thrill of speed; Charles had now parked on the school grounds. On the parking lot closest to the Gymnasium, he locked everything up- put a hard-chain around the wheel and ensured that it would be quite impossible for any thief to escape with his famed and prized motorcycle. 

He carried the helmet under-arm and across his back hung a rather large training bag, something which would be able to hold any necessary equipment required for any training he'd chose to perform. After rapidly changing his clothes in the men's lockerroom he walked onto the gymnasium field and was surprised by the vastness of the facility, the many sports clubs could practice at the same time and still leave enough room for a dozen, or so, to train solo. 

He was joyous, but he didn't show it- in fact he failed to show much of which he'd felt along the travel. 

After having understood the layout of the equipment and asking some of the present clubs he finally started doing some solo training, beginning with a couple of laps around the edges of the inside hall- looking at the sports clubs as they practice and being quite intrigued with whatever they'd do. 

He was actually mentally debating if he should join the gymnastics group and train something along those lines- having practiced martial arts for quite a while he feels quite confident that he'd be able to annex a couple of techniques into his personal fighting style: not that it's had any actual experience. 

For seeming like quite the bully, Charles is quite inexperienced with the underground world- he basically only looks quite terrifying as of now; "[i]such would change soon enough, though[/i]." He thought.