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It takes Trei a moment to realize that there is someone else in the dojo with him... Not that it mattered, 'cause Trei's style isn't exactly based on consistency of technique. It's just...weird, to look up and see others in the room when you think you're alone.

No matter...with a grin, he waves at the man and walks over to a wall, allowing his body to cool down as he goes into a series of deep stretches...

"Yo, Kid," Mooo said as he tugged the second glove on with his teeth. "I wasn't gonna put you through too much today, since I'm recovering. For right now, though--basic calisthenics. Squats, push-ups, sit-ups, grip exercises. I'd suggest doing some dips or pull-ups, too, and then do some free weights. We'll get to the actual techniques and stuff after your muscles are burning--that way you get what you learn imprinted faster," Mooo chuckled, easing into his tight upright orthodox stance, slowly putting out a few going-through-the-motions combinations--left jab, right hook, right backfist, low left stopping block, left short upper--his movements weren't particularly strong or fast, but it could also be easily seen that he wasn't trying at all with any of the moves he was going through.

A couple days later, Mooo'd returned to the gym, the promised day finally at hand. He wasn't at peak performance, but he would have to make do with the limits imposed on him. His wounds were healed, but he was also unable to withstand his usual amount of damage--thankfully, with the power dampers on the ring, he'd be able to just have a straight fight.

Tugging his shirt off, Mooo dug into the duffel bag he'd brought with him, pulling out his mouthpiece and a pair of 8oz match gloves with tight velcro strappings. He was already wearing his shorts--plain black trunks with no name across the belt. Taking his glasses off and setting them into their case, he then pulled his shoes on--rubber-soled infighter shoes designed for traction, so he could stand in place and exchange punches.

Finally, Mooo got his gloves on, tugging and fastening them on tight with his teeth. Pulling up the mouthpiece, Mooo put it in place, dusting the soles of his shoes on the chalk platform as he made his way up the steps and through the ropes into the blue corner of the ring, waiting for his opponent to arrive.

As the bell sounded and the referee stepped back, whipping his arms to the center and calling "Box," Mooo walked forward, in a tight orthodox upright stance--his best stance--his head and elbows bouncing lightly, his feet flat on the canvas. His approach was slow, but around the time he made it to the center of the ring, he'd slowly extended his left fist, offering a glove-touch for a good match.

His strategy for this fight would be simple--strong weight shifts. He didn't know how Ertai fought, nor would he have a decent clue of it until maybe the end of the first round. Scheduled for eight rounds and three downs, this wasn't exactly a practice match--it was a "show me what you've ******** got" kind of match.

Feeling the contact from Ertai's glove, Mooo retracted his left hand--and promptly fired it out again, taking a quick half-step in, his left foot turning at a sharp angle, his shoulder and hip propelling the punch forward with a slight twist--it was a basic left straight, aimed for the center of Ertai's chest.

His opponent looked bored--this punch should remedy that quite nicely. Either he would block, directly parry the glove with his own, or do a counter--and with the momentum a left straight gave right off the bat, full-body counters weren't a good option this early in the match, what with Mooo's timing being quite the mystery at this point. It irritated Mooo that his opponent seemingly wasn't caring about the match, and was distracted--so Mooo intended to show him the ABC's of boxing and get an expression on that face.

Thank you, Ertai, for the momentum. Mooo was a little amused that his straight was parried--a block would have been a better choice, plus it better dispersed the power of the punch--but Ertai's little shove worked more in Mooo's favor than Ertai's.

The slight squeaking sound, akin to the sound of sneakers on a basketball court, marked Ertai's switch to light footwork--outboxer footwork. What better move to use on an outboxer than a pure infighter technique?

Working off the momentum of Ertai's push, Mooo's upper body weaved to his right--Ertai's left--ducking low, weaving in a half-circle as Ertai's hard left hook swept just over his head, Mooo popping up on the dead angle of Ertai's left hand, his right arm cocked back, bent at a right angle with the entire weight of his body behind it. Ertai only had one move at his disposal at this point, and Mooo seriously didn't think his opponent knew precisely how to stop a full-force Dempsey Roll heading for his temple, especially after missing such a tight hook, which required a lot of torque--i.e. good posture and grounding--to throw right.