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The pain stung like a couple hundred hornets shoved their ass ends right into my face, I could all ready feel the swelling begin. Roll with the punches, that's what you gotta do. Pain is nothing and everything, it's the only thing left telling you you're alive...the only thing left telling you that you can still fight forward. I blocked the oncoming jab and swept the man off his feet, driving him down into the ground with such force that I swore I heard some bones cracking. The man let out a grunt of pain but showed no fear, much like myself. Fear is nothing, it's merely your mind getting lazy...wishing to stop the extra sensories from entering it, so it brings about a new one to slow you down or push you forward to end it. When you feel fear, you've all ready lost. I thought I'd lost. I thought Lambert had me. After getting sent to the ground as hard as I had been, I felt like the streak had finally ended. But then Ethan Andrews, an unwanted savior, comes bolting in to cost Lambert the fight. Didn't know until after, of course...but it still pissed me the hell off. It didn't matter though, it was only a matter of time before Lambert asked for a rematch, and I'd be ready for the fight. The foot which kicked my ankle out from under me soon found itself being twisted in a most vile manner as I caught them upon my downfall. This man was still learning, he'd yet to know our ways. The pounding of his fist on the ground and his screams personified that. I lifted him back up off the ground and slung him across the room, glaring out at those before me, challenging...daring anyone to step forward. A man began to walk forward...and I'd instantly recognized him as the same man I'd beaten once before; Sean Galen. Beside him a smaller man, a man I'd only seen before...never fought. He was Dillon Durst, the fool who chose to follow Galen's orders like some sort of lackey. I heard footsteps behind me and soon recognized the man beside me; Chris Champion. Weeks ago he brought me here, introduced me to the people in this very setting. He and I've shared a bond for a long time now, much like brothers. After the ol' joint shut down...he brought me here, and now 'here' is home. I cracked my knuckles, fearless and uncaring. Perhaps I would be able to finish my job on that Galen punk, or perhaps I'd get a chance to face off with Durst for the first time. Whoever I faced didn't matter...so long as I had my chance to fight. I took a step forward, hands raised and clenched. Galen laughed and took the toothpick from his mouth, sliding it into the cleavage of the whore standing beside him. He stepped forward, arms raised and ready. The both of us, going face to face...and he mockingly reaches out, offering a handshake. He was unpleasently suprised when he withdrew a spit-soiled hand, my eyes fixed into a glare. He growled, balling the fist as I stared heatedly at him, before letting the words drift out of my mouth like water, contaminated with bloodshed, unpure from sweat, and soiled with tears. "I want you to hit me as hard as you can." |