Holy shit I forgor to post this when I got done and it's been forever now
I'm so sorry, y'all
—=—=—=—=—=—=—=—
Viktor roused early, the morning following his first day under Ted Grant's care.
He'd been placed in the upstairs storage room, across from the bedroom he'd woken up in. Dim grey light filtered in through the ventilation slats. The pale morning light highlighted the dusty equipment in silver, as well as the cloth that covered some of them. Rolling off the folding bed he'd been lent, Viktor did some stretches before packing up the bedding.
'Feels weird. I went from hospital bed to crummy sheets, and now I have an actual bed. It's a weird sidegrade.'
Stretching himself limber, Viktor psyched himself up to 'meet' Ted Grant properly. After who knew how long, spent hemming and hawing over what was to come, he finally left the storage room and descended the stairs. Entering the gym's backdoor, close to the stairs, he was greeted to the sight of Ted setting up a small dinner table.
"Morning, kid. Food's ready. Get your fill and we'll talk."
Viktor salivated from the savory aromas. Again, sourness tingled in the back of his tongue as he practically tasted food in the air. Since he'd been given tacit permission, he scooped himself up a decent serving. The first bite of Ted's cooking had his slitted pupils going rounded, and once he'd had his fill, they had their talk.
Essentially, Viktor couldn't be allowed to freeload at the gym. He expected similar conditions to what he was given back at Finlay's: fight to earn his keep. Therefore, he asked if that was where the conversation was going. Ted looked horrified at the suggestion.
"Kid, no," he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm not gonna make you fight for money. If you wanna earn our keep that way once you're set up, then sure. Why not. But only with my say-so."
In the end, Ted had Viktor become an errand boy. He helped keep the gym tidy for the first nine hours of every day, with the fifth hour being his lunch break. Occasionally, he would also assist the people training there. Spotting, light sparring, holding striking pads and whatnot.
During his leisure hours in the afternoons, Viktor would hang out with Janine who'd taken a shine to him. She would usually either coach him in his own training, or take him out to do odd jobs so they both could earn a little something extra. It was usually some sort of menial labor, Viktor reckoned that he would pick up some handy skills that could help him unexpectedly in the future.
...
"Oof...!"
Ears ringing, Viktor snarled and put his hands back up. Defense was one of his worse points when it came to fighting. Outside of the ring where he sparred, Ted watched alongside a few other boxers who had just finished their own training.
"Come on, Vik! You gotta stop blocking with your face!" Janine taunted. She followed by throwing two feints at him. That made his hands droop for just a second before his eyes shot wide open. He barely managed to throw his fists back up in time to block the real attack.
Janine's grin relaxed, and she backed up to give him time to breathe. "Better," she stated, and went right back in to pound a lesson on defense into his skull.
This process of being forced to block or move out of the way went on for several rounds. Viktor needed to adapt or get beaten, but unlike his previous 'trainers,' Janine paced him really well. There was always time to reflect, digest, and adjust. Add to that the one-minute breaks between the three-minute rounds, and Viktor was able to soak in the lessons like droughted earth receiving rain.
By the time his after-work training with Janine was over, Viktor was breathing heavy. Sweat had slicked his skin, and his clothes were soaked. Still, though he was tired, Janine was exhausted.
Viktor struggled to keep his eyes to himself. Like him, she sported a loose shirt with the sleeves sheared off. Though the wide holes exposed the sports bra underneath, that wasn't what kept pulling his attention.
It was the fierce look in her eyes that added spice to her grin. The way her short-cropped hair, slick with sweat, clung to her neck and face. How her loose shirt, weighed down by moisture, occasionally clung to her figure and subtly hinted at the silhouette underneath.
Viktor thanked the convenient excuse of exertion to explain his ruddy skin. Taking his bottle, he squirted water on his face before gulping down the rest. Yep. He wouldn't look at Janine until she'd changed into fresh clothes.
...
Later that night, like every night since Ted employed him, Viktor sat on the gym's roof. A tray of chicken wings sat between them, already halfway eaten-through. Two empty beer cans sat on the ground near Ted with several more unopened, while Viktor nursed a steaming mug of tea.
"You know, I wouldn't have taken you for a tea person," Ted mused aloud.
Viktor shrugged. "I don't like the idea of intoxication... it's kinda scary," he admitted.
Even though only his mother had ever visited him in his old life, she had stories. Her husband—Viktor loathed to call that man his father—was a terrible drunk. He wasn't always that way, and Viktor didn't need the facts to be spelled out to him. Still...
Realizing that his expression had morphed into a scowl, Viktor sighed and schooled his face. "But... yeah. It's either tea or coffee for me. Well, it'd always be tea close to bedtime."
"Amen to that," said Ted, grinning before he downed the rest of his third can of beer. "And that's why I drink. A good buzz always eases me into Mr. Sandman's arms."
Chuckling, Viktor cocked a brow. "Okay, but an entire six-pack, though?"
"What can I say?" Ted shrugged, setting down the now-empty can to open up another. "Us metas... it takes a lot to get us down. I actually got banned from a lot of bars just because they're afraid I might be drinking too much."
"Hm..." Viktor gulped down the rest of his tea, still steaming hot. "That's a shame... anyway, I'm going back down. Gonna scratch my post for a bit, then it's the hay for me."
Ted raised his can in a one-sided toast. "To unintended euphemisms!"
...
Besides day training with other boxers, Viktor also committed himself to other methods of strengthening himself. For one, his claws.
In the storage room, he'd erected himself wooden dummy. Really, it was just a thin log he'd gotten for cheap. It wasn't up to standard in the place he'd gotten it from, so he purchased it, put it on a stand with Ted's help, and now here he was.
It existed now because Viktor had found an issue with his body: though he was powerful and durable, he was nowhere near the actual Sabretooth's level. The first time he'd used his claws on something tougher than another person, purely out of curiosity, he managed to declaw himself.
It was not a pleasant experience.
From there, he realized that he needed to toughen them up. Therefore, log post.
Baring his claws, Viktor placed his hands on the log and got to scratching. Every swipe put just enough pressure on his claws to be uncomfortable, just fast enough to toughen up his fingers' joints. He looked silly and felt even more so, but that was a small price to pay for improvement.
After half an hour of non-stop post-scratching, Viktor sat down to read. Ted had given him an old desk and lamp that never saw much use, so he was at least comfortable doing so.
While reading up on a biology textbook he'd checked out from a nearby library, Viktor popped a piece of cow bone into his mouth and got to chewing. Besides being a good fidget, it also served to toughen his retractable fangs and increase his bite force.
'And after this is beddy-bye...'
...
Meanwhile, on the rooftop, Ted knocked back the last of his beer. He gave the six empty cans a sidelong glance while rising to his feet.
"Ugh... I'll clean up tomorrow," he grumbled. "... maybe."
Then, just as he turned around to retire for the evening, his phone rang—a tiny little keypad-Nokia, whose buttons he could barely press individually. On its screen was a coded message:
"All the animal shelters are full. Tried calling management, but it's just not possible to make space right now without compromising the others. Hang onto the new kitten for a while longer, maybe a day or two, and I'll see if I can manage anything."
After that, just as Ted was about to let things be, another message.
"You can take the cat out on walks if you want. Just make sure it doesn't escape and end up in a gutter or a feral colony."
Sighing, Ted could only shake his head. "Whatever you say, big guy."