Post by The Predator on May 31, 2012 1:37:22 GMT -6
We return to the same gym, this time turning daylight hours. The standard crowd has gathered around the ring, watching intently as the big shots in the establishment practice their moves. The gasps and groans fill the room audibly when they occur, but the reaction is, by and large, that of shocked silence.
BAM!
A heavy set man hits the ground with a a driving impact so visceral the crowd around the ring visibly recoils. The Predator steps into the frame, his face a steely mask of determination. Another thuggish looking man in a singlet runs up behind him and attempts to put him in a sleeper hold, but the attempted offensive is short live; A short elbow to the gut seems to fold the attacker disproportionately, and an easy toss sends him out of the ring with a comical momentum.
The Predator quizzically examines his hands and arms, and smirks. The fat man staggers to his feet, and is hit with a wet chop that immediately reddens his chest. The man shrieks in a childlike fashion, and simply sags to the ground, rolling out the ring to be tended to by his entourage. Pred stands alone, a thin sheen of sweat coating his musculature. He appears genuinely bemused.
The crowd begins to disperse, chatting quietly and tossing furtive glances over their shoulders. The big man exits the ring and plops down on the apron, sipping a sports bottle and looking thoughtful. Johnny and Lana, his two managers, trot up beside him, expressions a mask of delight.
"Dude..." John begins. "Mate, where the hell did that come from?I haven't seen you hit like that since Bush was President."
Lana simply flashes a coy smile. The Predator looks at her, and gives her a small thumbs up. "Well, lady, I gave you a hard time at first, but this stuff you've got up your sleeve really seems to be working. I feel like I'm ten years younger."
The young woman looks over her shoulder, acknowledging one of the unfortunate sparring partners still tending to his wounds. "Yep, thats about par for the old Predator's course, over there. How do you feel? You looked relaxed, but you were exploding and moving with that intensity we discussed. Did the hypnotherapy pay off?"
The Predator shrugs. "I guess. I don't know much about this mind magic stuff you've got going on...All I know is, you've removed all the mental blocks I had last week. I feel like I can turn it up in a ring when I need it. That puts my opponents in a tight spot."
Johnny eagerly seizes his moment to speak. "Alright, champ, listen up: Decca is a pretty simple competitor. He's not gonna toss anything sophisticated at ya. Just some suplexes and what not. The thing about him, though, is he's a fucking scrapper; He fights, and he fights hard. Don't give him an edge, don't turn your back on him, don't relent on him for a second. He's a win at all costs kind of guy, and that makes him dangerous."
He continues. "This Gravedigger guy, he has a lot in common with you in your younger days. Big, strong, raw, aggressive, angry, all that shit. I believe in your athletic ability and your strength, big guy, but fact is, he's younger than you; Don't go after zombie boy head on, he's got a whole career worth of damage to take and you don't need the unnecessary mileage. With you're experience and schooling, you should be, technically, the superior wrestler come match time. This is gonna be a really difficult match, but it's one you should win."
Predator nods. "Lana fixed the kinks in my system. I should be ready to give this one the full effort."
Lana pats him on the back, an easy expression on her face. "That's good for this week, then. I have a flight to catch..." She interrupts him as he begins an incredulous objection. "I'll be heading to the site early. I want to make sure things are ready, and I want to sew up some loose ends. I'm sure you can find your gate by yourself. Toodles."
With that, she simply walks away. John scratches the back of his neck.
"You sure pick up strange broads. At least she hasn't got you off of eating meat like your ex-wife." The Predator is still watching her leave, his face hard. "Hey, mate...Sorry...Didn't mean to hit a nerve."
The Predator's voice is gruff. "Nah, she was a bitch. I'm just being my paranoid self, John. I've been around this business too long. You let people act strange and carry on like nothing is up, you get a folding chair to the face. You let somebody you don't know too close too fast, you get a kick to the balls before you get a chair to the face. Keep an eye on her, brother...She's a miracle worker, but that doesn't ease my mind. Watch her for me, mate."
John nods, and starts as the Predator stands up to leave. "Champ, we've still got 2 hours of training left today, man!"
The Predator turns around, and smirks. "Nah, I've seen what I need to see. I'm gonna go get some sleep. Can't win if I'm tired!"
John watches him exit, and slowly pulls out a cell phone. He presses a single key, speed dialing an unknown contact.
"Yeah, its me. Make sure the package is where I need it to be the second I touch down...I'm gonna need it to make sure this all goes according to plan. Yeah. Yeah, he'll win. Put money on it."
Blackout
BAM!
A heavy set man hits the ground with a a driving impact so visceral the crowd around the ring visibly recoils. The Predator steps into the frame, his face a steely mask of determination. Another thuggish looking man in a singlet runs up behind him and attempts to put him in a sleeper hold, but the attempted offensive is short live; A short elbow to the gut seems to fold the attacker disproportionately, and an easy toss sends him out of the ring with a comical momentum.
The Predator quizzically examines his hands and arms, and smirks. The fat man staggers to his feet, and is hit with a wet chop that immediately reddens his chest. The man shrieks in a childlike fashion, and simply sags to the ground, rolling out the ring to be tended to by his entourage. Pred stands alone, a thin sheen of sweat coating his musculature. He appears genuinely bemused.
The crowd begins to disperse, chatting quietly and tossing furtive glances over their shoulders. The big man exits the ring and plops down on the apron, sipping a sports bottle and looking thoughtful. Johnny and Lana, his two managers, trot up beside him, expressions a mask of delight.
"Dude..." John begins. "Mate, where the hell did that come from?I haven't seen you hit like that since Bush was President."
Lana simply flashes a coy smile. The Predator looks at her, and gives her a small thumbs up. "Well, lady, I gave you a hard time at first, but this stuff you've got up your sleeve really seems to be working. I feel like I'm ten years younger."
The young woman looks over her shoulder, acknowledging one of the unfortunate sparring partners still tending to his wounds. "Yep, thats about par for the old Predator's course, over there. How do you feel? You looked relaxed, but you were exploding and moving with that intensity we discussed. Did the hypnotherapy pay off?"
The Predator shrugs. "I guess. I don't know much about this mind magic stuff you've got going on...All I know is, you've removed all the mental blocks I had last week. I feel like I can turn it up in a ring when I need it. That puts my opponents in a tight spot."
Johnny eagerly seizes his moment to speak. "Alright, champ, listen up: Decca is a pretty simple competitor. He's not gonna toss anything sophisticated at ya. Just some suplexes and what not. The thing about him, though, is he's a fucking scrapper; He fights, and he fights hard. Don't give him an edge, don't turn your back on him, don't relent on him for a second. He's a win at all costs kind of guy, and that makes him dangerous."
He continues. "This Gravedigger guy, he has a lot in common with you in your younger days. Big, strong, raw, aggressive, angry, all that shit. I believe in your athletic ability and your strength, big guy, but fact is, he's younger than you; Don't go after zombie boy head on, he's got a whole career worth of damage to take and you don't need the unnecessary mileage. With you're experience and schooling, you should be, technically, the superior wrestler come match time. This is gonna be a really difficult match, but it's one you should win."
Predator nods. "Lana fixed the kinks in my system. I should be ready to give this one the full effort."
Lana pats him on the back, an easy expression on her face. "That's good for this week, then. I have a flight to catch..." She interrupts him as he begins an incredulous objection. "I'll be heading to the site early. I want to make sure things are ready, and I want to sew up some loose ends. I'm sure you can find your gate by yourself. Toodles."
With that, she simply walks away. John scratches the back of his neck.
"You sure pick up strange broads. At least she hasn't got you off of eating meat like your ex-wife." The Predator is still watching her leave, his face hard. "Hey, mate...Sorry...Didn't mean to hit a nerve."
The Predator's voice is gruff. "Nah, she was a bitch. I'm just being my paranoid self, John. I've been around this business too long. You let people act strange and carry on like nothing is up, you get a folding chair to the face. You let somebody you don't know too close too fast, you get a kick to the balls before you get a chair to the face. Keep an eye on her, brother...She's a miracle worker, but that doesn't ease my mind. Watch her for me, mate."
John nods, and starts as the Predator stands up to leave. "Champ, we've still got 2 hours of training left today, man!"
The Predator turns around, and smirks. "Nah, I've seen what I need to see. I'm gonna go get some sleep. Can't win if I'm tired!"
John watches him exit, and slowly pulls out a cell phone. He presses a single key, speed dialing an unknown contact.
"Yeah, its me. Make sure the package is where I need it to be the second I touch down...I'm gonna need it to make sure this all goes according to plan. Yeah. Yeah, he'll win. Put money on it."
Blackout