"Fucking no-name pricks in the higher ups thinkin' they can push me around like a fuckin' cart, who the fuck do they think they are?"

The punching bag rocked heavily under the impact of Dominic's fist, the chains holding it up staying strong as the bag swayed in the air, rocked back by the force of Dominic's fists raining down upon it. Every stinging jab, every hard-landed blow, each one more violent and uncontained then the rest.

Oh yeah, he was pissed.

First that Matthew Logan punk thought he could show off against him and catch a couple of good shots in, acting like he'd take him out in a few seconds. He loses and the boys put him in a dress, so what? Dominic didn't really care, he'd left the situation alone. What bothered him was this new kid was coming tonight, and they wanted him to humble the kid a little, break him in in a hard way.

If they put the kid in a fuckin' dress, heads would roll. These were Dominic's exact thoughts as he continued to slam his fists into the never-faltering punching bag, which came back for every punch and absorbed the impact like a sponge. If only some of the boys around here would stay up as long as a damn punching bag, maybe the fights would be more interesting.

"Shit, I hope this kid knows not to open his mouth on the outside." Dominic shook his head--he'd heard stories of how they dealt with squealers in the past. This new kid might wind up forced into women's clothing if he lost, and Dominic wasn't about to take one just so the kid wouldn't have to suffer. So would he squeal to get back at them? Was anyone really that stupid?

Dominic sure as hell hoped not, but with a name like Stricker his hopes didn't have much to go by for the kid.

Finally, the ever-constant rain of punches upon the heavy bag had stopped, allowing it's rocking to slow to a halt after a few moments. Dominic's fists were stinging from the punches he'd delivered, but he simply blocked it out. He stepped over to the bench and lifted his towel from it to wipe the sweat from his body, beads of perspiration dripping down his face, arms, chest and back. He had been training for God knows how long now, and had decided to finish it off by letting his frustrations out. It was a good workout, definately let out the anger he'd needed to release, but the frustration still remained.

And the frustration was what caused the problem in the first place.

Dominic tried his best to focus his mind on something else; something to ignore the frustration still dwelling within him like a serpent waiting to strike. He went through everything he could think of, from life on the outside to life on the inside. All the rules of Fight Club--'You do NOT talk about Fight Club...' he would think to himself in his constant attempts at blocking that frustration.

Unfortunately, all of his attempts at such a thing were for none. He just couldn't do it, the frustration seemed to respond to being ignored by building itself stronger, until a point where Dominic had a metaphorical dam built within his body about ready to break under the pressure. No matter how hard he'd tried throughout the day, the frustration refused to release itself from it's ever-constant battering on his mind. His chest felt tight and his abdomen tighter from the stress it was forcing upon him.

"Yo 'Dom!" called forth a voice from across the room, a voice belonging to a person who was blissfully unaware of the reasons for Dominic's stress--much less the fact that he was under stress to begin with. "You ready to put this new guy to shame? We got this nice lil' bodice set for the guy to try on when he bites the dust."

Dominic turned slowly, glaring directly into the man's eyes as suddenly he felt himself breaking under the pressure of his glare. The man glanced about nervously, looking over at the very-much pissed off Pericolo. He let out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his head.

"So I take that as a yes then, man?" he said meekly.

"Get the fuck out of here, and tell them I'm not going to let anyone embarass this kid whatsoever." Dominic said coldly, his voice dripping with malice and anger. The dam had broken from the pressure, and this guy in front of him stood with the very sledge hammer that helped break it inside his mouth. Had he kept that mouth of his shut, then maybe his tounge wouldn't have brought forth the verbal hammer. And had that verbal hammer not been brought forth upon Dominic, perhaps this new kid wouldn't get the thrashing of a life-time.

The guy scampered out of the room to the others as Dominic finished wiping the sweat from his body, staring down at the ground. He didn't want to break the guy or anything, but he was going to wind up beating him like no tommorow. Kid'll be lucky if he can move in the morning, that's for sure.

And in Dominic's mind, there was another thing that would be made certain leading into the fight and coming out of the fight. The kid would not be wearing any 'bodice', or whatever the guy said they had planned.

He wanted a fight, not a circus act. And he'd damn sure better get one.

Fade to reality.