"Хорошо хорошо!" Mishka chuckles, as I release his massive from a chokehold. I get to my feet, and look at the Russian man, who, despite being beat in a sparring match, is happy as can be.
"Тебе стало лучше." Mishka says, and I chuckle as I grab a pair of water bottles, and throw one him, which he easily catches.
"I'm a fast learner." I reply, as I down my own bottle.
It's been six months since I started Mishka's training regiment. In that time, he's been working he incredibly hard, pushing my body to it's limits, which for a while, was very low. Now.....it's a bit different.
I've grown about two or three inches, and put on quite a bit of weight in muscle. I stand at 5'7", and weigh in at 160, which technically makes me overweight, but I'm healthier than ever. Mishka has been making me lift weights, go on runs, and do full body workouts pretty much daily. Six months ago, I could barely bench 90 pounds. Now I can do 185. At the beginning of my training, I could barely do a 10 minute mile. Now, A 7 minute is an easy pace. Six months ago, I was weakling with nothing but determination. Now, I can kill a man in three seconds flat if I so wanted.
"You know, I've been wondering. You never told me how you knew Sambo." I say, looking at Mishka, who sips at his water bottle. Sambo, while not nearly as old as some martial arts, is still nearly 300 years old. The Style Mishka is teaching me is what he calls Боевое Самбо, or Combat Sambo. It's a mix of grappling and striking, bearing similarities to Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, as well as judo. It was developed for Russian Special forces, and it's pretty brutal, considering rules are more or less nil, save for banning things like biting, eye-gouging, and the such, as well as arm bars, but Mishka put his own spin on it, adding in arm bars and wrist bars.
"да. Learned it from friend, back in Russia. Old military trainer. Taught me when I was young." He says, and I chuckle
"Kinda like you and me, да?" I ask, speaking in Russian to the man, who laughs
"да. A lot like us." He mutters, as I finish up my water bottle.
"..........You okay, дедушка?" I ask, using the Russian word for Grandfather
"кто?" He chuckles. 'Who is?'
"No one here." I reply, cracking my neck and wrists.
Walking to the wall of weapons, or as I call it, The Wall of War, and grab what has quickly become my favorite weapon. An Автомат единый Кокшарова-545V or an AEK-545V. It's very similar to an AK-47, like every automatic Russian rifle, but this one is special for two reasons The first being the smaller bullet, the 5.45x39. Not incredibly important, but second part is. The recoil system. In addition to the recoil spring, it has a built-in counterweight system that moves opposite of the bolt, both reducing and redirecting recoil. Instead of forcing the barrel upwards with recoil, it instead throws it more backwards, allowing for more accurate shooting. It has three firing modes. Semi-auto, three-round burst, and full auto. Of course, I have all sizes of magazines to chose from, but I usually use a 40-round magazine, but I do run a 75-round drum mag meant for an RPK-74 on occasion.
"I'm gonna shoot for a bit, Mishka." I say, and he nods
"I will see you later." He says, walking out of the room, and closing the book-case door behind him, effectively making the room sound-proof to the outside.
Pulling back the charging handle, I begin to unload clip after clip from the rifle in my hands. While the recoil is less than a normal weapon that fires out this many rounds this quickly, it's not insignificant. For a 900 rpm rifle, the recoil is not horrible.
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Wrath, Violence, and Love. (Izutoru)
قصص الهواةIzuku Midoriya. Quirkless. Has been his entire life. Always will be. And yet, that's not all. He's bullied. Despite the impressively shitty hand life had dealt him, he still pushes forward, trying to become a hero. But when he gets shot down by his...
