Dark World: Rich Boy gets his bill

Dennis

Notes: 

• Story done by request
Imagine if you will, another world and another life. A world where you were wildly (and seemingly) successful in all things and had a ego to match. Money, women, sex, anything you wanted, you had. What you didn't have, you would buy or ruin to get.

Until one day you messed with the wrong couple...

From the day he was born, Dennis was a man who knew what he wanted, and always got it. He didn't care who he had to outmaneuver, who he had to lie to, cheat to or even use some muscle on. No, Dennis was the top of the world and anyone who didn't know it, soon would. He was a grade AAA perfect specimen of alpha manhood. Today, he demonstrated this simple undeniable fact by being surrounded by only the finest women, enjoying the best alcohol money could buy, and all of course, in a private booth in some high-class night club. The name of the place was unimportant, just as long as people saw him, admired him, and worshiped at his altar. After all in this world, a world that never really felt right, you had to be strong, strong or dead. So he did what he had to do, and he did it well. He was king of his particular hill, and he knew it.

"Ohhhhh fuck yeah." 

Jack, Story of a Young Fighter P2

I can do this.

Steam fogged the sides of the mirror, but did not distort the image.

I can’t be afraid.

He saw himself, in a old beaten undershirt he loved, and a pair of red gloves. 

Fear is the mind killer…

He knew he shouldn’t be afraid, they never were. 

I must not, I will not fear….

He was different now, a far cry from the boy who was picked on and beaten. 

I accepted this fight, and now I must finish it. 

Much had changed since that day, far more than just his now full and seasoned face. 

I am strong, I am a man.

By chance or pure luck, a pair of brothers had passed by and heard the ruckus of a fight. When they checked to see, they found Jack lying there, assaulted and cowardly beaten. 

I won’t disappoint them. 

The brothers had done more than just helped him that day, they saved his life. 

This fight is for them, and I will not lose it. 

They took in a worthless skinny boy fixed him up, trained him and gave him purpose. 

I will do this.

They had taken a boy, and turned him into a man. 

I WILL DO THIS!

Jack pounded his gloves hard as his reflect seemingly nodded in approval. Today would not be a loss, but the coming of age of a new fighter.

Jack, Story of a Young Fighter P1

Our man Jack

“OOoof”

Jack’s day hadn’t started well. He had suffered abuse at work from both customers and his douche of a boss alike. In short, he was done with this day and wanted nothing more with humanity. After a long and painful ten-hour shift, he wanted to kick back a few beers and just relax. However, these guys seemed to have... other plans. He didn’t know exactly what happened, but before he knew it, three guys had grabbed him and drugged him outside. They didn’t even say why before the first fist flew. A hard jab to his face took him by surprise and snapped his head back. Another quickly followed, busting his nose and forcing it to bleed. Jack could taste his own blood but had no time to process it. Another hard cross to his ribs shocked him and stunned him stupid. Another series of jabs pushed him back against a wall, when, after a taunt about doing what they want, they began to work over his stomach. A strong fist, one far bigger than his own and seemingly made of rock, plowed into him again and again, shaking him and steadily increasing the need to throw up. A stiff uppercut came and connected with the upper portion of his stomach area, forcing out the air and having his knees go weak. He was relieved when the men allowed him to double over and fall to the ground. Hopefully, this meant the fight was over, and they would leave him be. 

It did not.

Power isn’t Everything, Dante’s Story

A Fully Recovered Celtic

 

The Celtic Fire, or just Celtic as many shortened it to, sat in the locker room with his head against the wall. It had been a little over two months since the cowardly but brutal attack from Aki. He needed this time to recover from bruised ribs, messed up face, and nearly (read totally) destroyed abdominal wall. Shifting his weight he placed a hand on his chest, then stomach. The pain had finally stopped, the burning had gone out, but the memory would live on. The guys at the gym, for all their hyper-masculine attitudes, were sympathetic to him, knowing the deviousness of the situation. It wasn’t just a normal fight he had; the boy had cheated, and with brass knuckles no less. Sure, he won in the end, but at a VERY high price. 

Such was now in the past, and was over and done with. 

Now? Now he was back in the game, he was fit and ready for the world. He had hit the gym for several days before the first offer for a fight came in. While the thrill of the fight was screaming back inside of him, for once fighting was in your blood, it never really left, he was still nervous. What if he had had a misstep? What if he had a flashback in the middle of a fight? One false move and he knew he would never fight again.

To say he was left shaken from the event would be an understatement.

A Painful Beginning: Celtic's Story P2

A badly hurt Celtic Fire.

It wouldn’t nor shouldn't have taken Celtic that long to get ready, but he needed this time, any time really, to recover. With his adrenaline starting to wear off, the true nature of the pain inflicted upon him cam roaring back. Even worse, the previous cowardly attack had taken its toll, more so than he was willing to admit. His chest heaved with pain as he tried to breath and center himself. His arms burned from the counter attack and extended work out, and his stomach... well that was just gone. Reaching into his locker, even this act causing some pain, he pulled out two leather black and green gloves and put them on. He clenched his fists hard and threw a few mock punches in front of the mirror. Mentally, he was ready for this fight, already seeing Aki knocked the hell out and begging to leave. Realistically, all he would have to do would be to block and/or dodge all of Aki’s hits, easy win right? Aki could barely lift one hundred pounds, what damage could he do in the ring, when faced with a real fight? No, Celtic had done the same a million times before, so this should be no different.

A Painful Beginning: Celtic's Story

Our main character, the Celtic Fire.

 

His name was, or more given to him, Celtic Fire. Earned for his rather fiery and emotional personality, he was the type of man who would love you like a son one second, then beating this shit out of the person who insulted you the next. He was, however at this moment, finishing up his workout. Keeping mostly to himself, the other guys respected his alone time. It was an odd thing with men and the gym. If you put forth effort, no matter what shape or size, they would respect you for it. If you came back and stayed hungry, you would earn even more of their respect. If you paid your dues, and did what had to be done, this was your place. It would be your second home. Nothing was given freely here, everything had to be earned. It was hard but there was respect, and honestly no one here would have it any other way.

"Uggggghh fuck me" he mockingly said to himself.  

While the work out was amazing, not to mention absolutely amazing for killing stress, the intense part was working on his body hard. He, like any other guy, would curse, bitch and complain to himself, but he would keep going. The pain didn't matter, it was just weakness leaving the body. Celtic was always hungry for a better looking body, and he would not stop till he got it. For too long, he was the little shit, the little guy, the guy who could stand up to no one. Now that he was on his own, he would no longer tolerate being so weak, or so helpless. So, while allowing his heavily tattooed body some air, he was blasting chest and arms pretty hard. Sure, boxing was enjoyable, especially with this annoying guy always running his mouth and looking for a fight with him, it wasn’t the only way to build muscle. 

Just... the more fun way of doing it. 

Grunting under his breath, and trying not to show pain, his body became drenched in sweat. He had to dig deep and focus hard to finish this fifth and final rep on the bench. It was a new record for him after all, two hundred and twenty pounds. His arms strained under the weight and his chest heaved fast. His chest hair (at least what he had) was soaked and his head hair was even worse. But he would not let this beat him, he would rise up, man up! With a final push, the set was done. He had done it. Clicking the bar into place he sat up to catch his breath. While working out had proven positive effects on the male persona, not to mention the increase testosterone had him feeling great, the smell that came with it sucked serious man balls. No lady enjoyed the smell, and even men would tolerate it for so long. So after cleaning off the equipment, he made a straight line for the locker room. The day was done and he needed a shower bad… like real bad.

After a rather lengthy shower, that was always set to “Bitch what’s with you getting fucked by Satan” hot water, and trim, he made his way back to his locker, wrapped tightly in his towel. While it was perfectly acceptable for men to wear little or nothing while in the locker room, Celtic wasn’t quite up to that level of showing off or fun and fancy free. Maybe after dropping some weight and putting on a couple pounds of muscle?

Maybe.

After changing into his fresh clothing, he turned to leave, but not before accidentally bumping into someone…

“Excuse me bro didn’t –“