Psssssss.

The sound of his slightly yellow urine, a symptom of too many sodas and not enough water, drew him from the deep trance the beginning of a too long held piss often put him into. That moment was like a trance, but the high pressure of nature's call always interrupted it. 

That, and well the eerie feeling that someone had just entered the backyard of the makeshift factory Old Man Yamaguchi used as a martial arts training ground. 

 [b]"Another new guy, Old Man, another new guy."[/b] Ferron said, turning his attention to the left of him, where a decomposed skull sat atop a shoddily carved spike. It had been a long time since anyone had come calling, long after Ferron had shot and killed the Old Man.  [b]"Well, let's not be rude then." [/b]

Ferron shook himself off, and tucked himself in, before opening the door to the outside. The light seared his eyes for a second before they afjusted and he could see the man standing no more than forty-five yards away.  [b]"Hey there! You must be new here! Looking for the Old Man? Well, he's out at the moment."[/b] A lie.  [b]"I'm his nephew, Ferron. He asked me to help out while he's gone."[/b] 

An easy smile graced his face as he began to close the distance, hands easily sliding off the small black t-shirt that hid a hardened body, built to take an immense amount of damage. For the sake of any women or children that happened to peer over the fence, he kept his pants on, as well as his steel toe boots. When the distance closed to ten yards, he slowed his approach, adopting a brawling style of boxing. Arms out to the side, right foot forward, knees slightly bent. 

 [b]"I don't know what kind of training you've come for, so I hope you're in for a fight." [/b]