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| 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 –“
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| Aki |
Aki, a younger slim Asian man, was in the locker room staring aimlessly and silently fuming at the world. To say it had been a rough couple of days would have been a understatement. As if meticulously planned in advance, both the gym and boxing ring had treated him like shit. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t up his bench weight. No matter what he took, his curls stayed the same and the painfully obvious lack of muscle showed. No matter how much he practiced or trained, he couldn’t defeat any opponent he took on. It wasn't fair and shouldn't matter that he put in far less work than the other fighters. He was better than them, by birth, and all should have already been handed to him. But it had not, and it was ridiculous. Aki sighed again, in front of him, rows of lockers presented themselves, and openly mocked him. Each one represented one of his opponents, each one a time he was bullied and beaten. Each one showed a person who had no just submitted to him, like they should have. It was ridiculous indeed.
With yet another sigh, he leaned back hard on his locker, his shower towel still around his shoulders. What else could he do? More work? No, that was something for the common stock did, no, something was wrong here and he would have to find out what.
“Much bullshit” he said to himself “fuck them all”.
Rolling his eyes at the shear dumbness of it all. Nothing, for the whole time he had been here, had gone right, or how it should. His fellow “brothers” in gloves always enjoyed punching him in the face until all he saw was stars, until the sweat dripped into his eyes and he could no longer see. They would break his nose, cut his eye, bust his lip, saying it was all part of the game. Disgusting liars. They enjoyed tying him up on the ropes being unable to defend himself from their hungry gloved fists. With great delight, and with various combos of lefts and rights, they rocked his upper buddy hard. They would pound hard each muscle (not like there was much) of his chest until it was soft and red. They, and one American opponent in particular, enjoyed working his stomach on the turnbuckles. Furious hooks, killer upper cuts, powerful jabs, limitless in number, they all came to blast his soft midsection. Even now, so long after the fact, the thoughts of it made him tense up and try to block his stomach. Even now his abs burned with the power of their hits. He was sick of it, sick of all these big guys picking on him! Screw them and their muscles! One day, he mused to himself, he would take them all on and win. One day he would destroy them like they destroyed him. One day they would see him as the alpha male.
As the day was now coming to a close, for this gym at least Aki found his private complaining affair in the locker room was rapidly becoming significantly less private. As the locker room became more crowded, even if such shamed and enraged him, Aki's gaze hit the ground. If he didn’t make eye contact, they would most likely leave him alone. They would be, after all, to busy gloating and admiring themselves on being the masters of everything. With great haste, and some care, Aki showered and changed, wanting to be done and gone. Getting a fresh pair of clothing, he stopped short of his shirt. In the mirror he saw his reflection, and he wanted to spit. One of his most frequent opponents, the American from before, liked to insult him when they fought. Little boy, pretty boy, weak, and worse. He knew he wasn’t there yet, but one day he would make that man pay.
The thought put a smile on his face. Heh, one day indeed. He was just about to leave, when someone bumped into him.
“Excuse me bro didn’t –“
While still in the best of moods from his recent workout, Celtic was still quick to cut himself off. While he and Aki were not mortal enemies (at least he didn't think that way), they were also not one to get on very well. Celtic was generally an easy-going guy who could get along with anyone. He would show proper respect to the guy who put in the work, and did his best to help out the new guys who needed it. He wasn't the biggest guy in the guy, or the best fighter, but he acted like a proper man. Aki, however? No, this kid always mouthed off and showed major attitude to other boxers and gym people. While flashing his money and expensive equipment around, he demand the world bow to him, that he alone wast he center of all. What was with some piss poor skinny ass rich Asian kid thinking he could disrespect people? What made him think he could pick fights and not suffer for it? Money didn't buy respect here, honest work did. All he had to do was show some basic nice manners and his situation here would improve a thousand fold. But no, he mouthed off and acted big. For a brief moment, Celtic rolled his eyes so hard he almost saw into last week. He knew damn well he could punch THREW (like literally) the kid’s skinny chest if he wanted to… and sometimes he really wanted to. The way Aki treated him, treated the other gym goers, even the new kid Dante (or what ever his name was), it was just well shameful.
"Aki..." Celtic mumbled as he continued on his way, already deciding this whole thing wasn't worth the time or effort.
Feeling as he had been reduced to a condescending word, and furious that his long time Irish- American rival had dared intruded on him, Aki wanted blood! Insulted, intruded and once again looked down on, like he was nothing at all. Yes, he understood himself to be the smallest guy here, he didn’t need reminding of it, nor did he need their constant unending disrespect. Even the new kid, Danny (what ever) who was just as small as he was and not to mention stupid and poor, had more respect than him! Why! This wasn't fair! He had all the money, he had all the power, he should be king for this gym! His face exploded with anger, rage, yes, Aki want and need for blood. He wanted this man to pay for his attitude, to pay for all the misdeeds that were ever done to him. He wanted this and so much more, but no, this was not in the cards for him. Aki knew full well he couldn’t take the older stronger man, and he just would have to resign himself to glares and… wait no, an idea came to him. Because Celtic spent so much time at the gym, working out and training, Celtic was generally the last person (or close) to leave. He was also on very good terms with the staff here, which granted him a few things. The one thing that came to mind, was Celtic had his own set of keys to lock up with. They trusted Celtic with important things, things that could be used against him. \
This was too perfect.
Fueled by his overwhelming intense anger, a utter lack of any sense to stop him, and need to just pulverize the crap out of something, he closed his fist into a tightest ball his fist could manage. He flexed his arms as tight as he could, and summoned up all of his strength. It wouldn’t be much, considering he was still sore from the gym today, but maybe with the element of surprise, it would be enough. Yes this is it! This would be his grand time! With the silent nimbleness only one of his low weight could accomplish, Aki crossed the distance between the two and slammed his fist into Celtic’s ribs. The resulting force, that took Celtic completely by surprise, forced him back into the lockers with a painful gasp.
“Ahhhhhhhhh the fuck!” Celtic cried out.
The attack had been successful, and Aki would not stop. Knowing full well speed and consistency was key, he continued an unrelenting assault. He gave himself over to hate and rage, no he became the avatar of rage, and let his adrenaline filled aggression take out every bad feeling he ever felt on Celtic’s body. Once not thought possible, the gasps of pain and thuds of fist against Celtics body echoed in the locker room. Dazed and confused from the attack, Celtic stood there helplessly as his body became a punching bag. Even worse, Celtic barely registered being turned around and having his back pushed into the lockers. It seemed the real beating was about to come, and it started with Aki’s bare fist making contact with Celtic’s chest.
BAM, THUD!
Admittedly good strong blows rocked Celtic’s chest hard, making an already bad situation worse. Had this been in the ring, and an official match, these would have been pretty good clean hits. The crowd would be going wild, and the punchee would be in serious danger of taking the ten count. With no moment to spare anything thought to this, and with a swift, double fisted blow to the center of his chest, Celtic grunted loudly then fell silent, his head dropping to his battered chest. This was not how he was planning on ending his day, and his body was not ready for such an attack. He would – apparently be interrupted by an uppercut to the gut. Unflexed, and unready, Celtic doubled over in pain and let out a loud “oooooph” as the air escaped him. He wanted to reach down and protect his now soft midsection, but another series of punches to his stomach ended that quickly. Each hit sunk in deep and made his insides shake. Celtic, despite himself, wanted to puke. With each hit, Celtic’s body shook from side to side, and his stomach sagged just a bit more. Having worked long and hard for a flat stomach, this was just adding insult to injury.
Celtic tried to mouth a “please stop” but a sick combo of three chest punches, a stiff uppercut to the jaw and a straight powerful jab to the midsection quickly stopped that. The uppercut to the chin knocked the senses out of him, both from the blow and his head slamming against the locker hard. He wanted to slide down and curl into a ball, but a hand pushed firmly against his chest, grabbing onto a fist full of hair, kept him up. He felt one of his arms raise above his head, quickly followed by numerous fists to his ribs and kidneys. Each direct and unchallenged hit caused Celtic to groan loudly, as if he was some bitch boy at his first day of boxing camp. Then, Celtic felt his other arm raise, and knowing what would come next, to which he tried to resist. For his trouble, for his arrogance, Celtic was rewarded with a strong fist to his solar plexus, knocking the breath right out of him. He became overwhelmed by dizziness and felt his legs give out. This was quickly followed up by a normally illegal hammer fist to the back of the head. The blow with a sick thud and Celtic saw black. He hit the locker room hard, busting his nose and leaving a puddle of sweat and blood. With a long and pathetic moan of pain, Celtic tried to move, or make some attempt to move. He wanted to scream and curse, but the feeling of wanting to throw up stopped him. He needed something to happen, he needed some way for the flow of this fights to change, and he needed it to happen fast. Maybe if he could just get a second to breathe?
“That’s for talking down to me bro!” Aki sneered as he stepped back.
Running on a high never thought possible, Aki took a moment to do something equally unbelievable; he took a moment to admire himself. In the locker room mirror, a reflection of him was clearly on display. Here he saw himself in his shorts, and no shirt. He saw himself flexing hard and appearing even more powerful than he actually was. Now, he was no longer a skinny twig, now he was a man bursting with masculinity. He also finally took notice that his shorts were a bit tighter than he remembered. Turned on by beating the crap out of his most hated rival? Aki didn’t seem to mind or care. He had far more things to concern himself with. Like Celtic, again in the mirror. He witnessed Celtic in a world of pain; he witnessed him weak and powerless. Aki flexed hard again in front of the sight. He threw a few mock punches in the air, as he held a boxers stance. He was feeling powerful, he was feeling unbeatable, and he didn’t want this to ever end. ”Finally,” he thought “they will respect me as a fighter!” Returning back to his punching bag, he bore a wicked smile on his face. What fun could be had when no one else was around, and no one could stop the unbeatable Aki? Taking another moment to stretch out his muscles for the long beating that would come, Aki readied himself.
“And this is because you need it, stupid potato!”
Aki renewed his cowardly assault with a swift and devastating kick to Celtic’s head. The force of the blow snapped his head back hard, slamming it against the metal locker doors once more. "Great" Celtic thought, just when he thought he could use this ego stroking display of Aki's to get his wits about him, his vision went dizzy again. But even in this, another even more dangerous thought came, if this went on for any longer, he could be completely broken and no longer able to fight. Celtic could not let the game be over so soon, he could not find himself broken and exiled from the ring so soon! No! Some spoiled rich kid would not, could not do this to him! But not now, or at least not yet, for this rather depressing line of thought, however, was interrupted by a sharp pain in his abdominal, courtesy of an unmerciful kick by Aki. “Oooooooooooph” Celtic groaned as air was forced from his body again. Wrapping his arms around his midsection, Celtic rolled around in pain. This bastard, Celtic knew, was doing just as he would. Aki was working the head hard to keep him dazed and unable to put up a guard. Then he would work the midsection to keep him from catching his breath. Aki had taking Celtic’s strategy and made it his own. The sneak attack was not only working, but doing considerable damage to his body armor, damage he could not counter. Lifted up by a strong force tugging on his hair, Celtic felt himself once again slammed again the lockers. Sweat dripped from Celtics hair into his eyes, stinging them. His chest heaved fast and hard, desperately trying to give air to his body. Celtic then felt his arms forcible being held back behind him and being held in place. “Shit” Celtic thought, Aki was setting him up for –
“Oooooooooooooooooph”.
A punch to his lower abs, a punch to his chest, a punch to his middle abs, a punch to the center of his chest, a punch to his upper abs, a punch to his lower chest, then an upper cut to his gut, once, twice, three times. All came fast and hard. Each forced a grunt of pure pain from Celtic. More than a machine gun than a man, the rapid fire fists continued as Celtic spewed out bits of blood and saliva. Red marks in the shape of a fist would first appeared, then darken to deeper reds and blues, marks that Aki felt great pride in. Unable, or unwilling to support Celtic’s weight any longer, he let Celtic drop like a rock.
“That’s what you get punk” Aki mocked, his voice heavy with an accent as he dug a foot deep into Celtic's stomach. Slumped against the lockers, his arms weak and useless at the moment, the foot dug in unopposed and unstoppable. It trampled the muscle there, squeezing it and stealing it's strengths. He tried to flex his stomach as hard as he could, but did nothing to save him overall.
“Fuck….. you” Celtic managed to get out, before once again being silenced by Aki’s foot. Again his head snapped back hitting the locker door hard, and Aki gripped him hard by the chest hairs.
With a fist full of hair, Aki tugged hard, causing another pleasing gasp of pain from his rival. Lifting him up, Aki once again returned the beaten fighter to his position against the lockers. With each new blow to his body, with each fist that sunk in deep to his battered midsection, with each hit that blew up his chest, Celtic gagged. This pleased Aki more and more, judged both from the smirk on his face and tightness of his trunks. He didn't know how much longer he could keep this up, and he knew soon he would have to flee, but for right now, this was the perfect night.
“Not done yet, right, old man?”
Behind Aki, behind his cowardly revival, the locker room mirror tortured Celtic with a dreadful sight. Two bruises his chest that was red as the sun, one for each pec muscle Aki pounded. As he heaved, he could feel his chest fall flat, like it was pudding. Whatever muscle was there had been tenderized by this punk kid. His stomach was in even worse shape. His upper and middle abs was several shades of red and blue, while his lower abs was black and red. Even worse, his stomach felt like it was going to burst.
“Stupid potato, you pay for long time making fun of me!”
Rolling his arms and shoulders, Aki took up his boxer stance. It was weak and sad, and mostly the reason he always lost in actual boxing matches, but right now, it was the best thing in the world. Setting up for a massive left hook, Aki renewed his attack. Except, he took far too long this time… ego had finally caught up to him. Assaulted with what would have been a mean left hook, Celtic quickly dropped, allowing his knees to give, and dodged the attack. What would have hit his face, knocking him down and out for sure, instead turned into a punch to the locker door hard. Aki yelped in pain and brought his fist back, Celtic had his opening.
Finally...
Wasting no time, time he know he didn’t have, Celtic acted. Allowing pure desperation to carry him, he launched and connected with, a deep uppercut to Aki’s stomach. Several things then happened, almost all at the same time. The force of the hit, made of some power and some weight of Celtic, connected with abs ill trained and unflexed. Crying out in pain, Aki stumbled back and, unaware of his surrounding, stumbled over the bench in the locker room. Unable to control either of the motions, both fighters came crashing down to the ground, with Celtic landing hard on top of his rival. Knowing full well he could not stop here, yet still moving WAY slower than he would like, Celtic had to push hard to still take control. Mounting the younger man, he began swinging wildly, connecting with head, chest and stomach. Each hit forced Aki to cry out in pain, and with various degrees of it. While normally shamefully, the resulting yelps of pain was music to Celtic’s ears.
“That’s what you get punk, attacking someone from behind? You’re lucky I don’t beat you until you can’t move anymore!”
Aki’s response, in-between fits of pain, was to spit at Celtic. In another time and place, such arrogant behavior would be enjoined and encouraged. Now, it just pissed Celtic off even more. Now, it just caused the Irishman to see red, but not nearly enough. Grabbing a fist full of hair, Celtic force Aki's head up just slightly, and started pounding it with his free hand. Blow after blow would make him cry out in pain, then quickly be silenced, only to scream out against once more. Payback would be a bitch, and Celtic would cash in, in full. It was time to put this punk in his place, this time for good.
“We are not done yet pretty boy”, Celtic mocked.
Forcing Aki up, with no hint of mercy or end to be found, Celtic threw him (literally) into the lockers where he crashed hard. The lockers to each side shuttered and vibrated with the force of the throw and before long with an renewed assault. Weak and punch drunk, Aki would have collapsed right then and there if not for Celtic throwing uppercut after uppercut to Aki’s upper and lower stomach. He also worked in chest punches, because he knew how much Aki hated them. His face looked like he wanted to puke and die.
“Good” Celtic thought.
Celtic didn’t care, any respect he may have had, any restraint he may have had, died today. This kid dared engage in a cowardly attack, and now he would learn the price. Grabbing him by the neck, Celtic then slammed Aki down on a nearby bench. Body slams were more of a wrestling thing, but it was painful, therefore Celtic liked it right now. Laying him out flat, he began to beat Aki’s chest and ribs hard. Mounted and held down by body weight alone, bare fist pounded Aki, and left marks both red and bloody as some skin was cut open. Aki cried out in pain, but could not break free.
“Very good” Celtic thought out loud.
Celtic just let go, having checked out of his head now and just let his fists do the talking. Too long had this fucker mouthed off and started drama in the house of gains. Too long had he cause unnecessary drama for everyone here and gotten away with it. Too long had this bitch scum bag not learned his place. No, this nonsense would end today, and Aki would no longer be a problem. Today Aki would learn the hard way why he was called the Celtic Fire...
“What now? Still going to throw around attitude? Can we call this settled?”
“Fuck…. You…. Old… man”
“Still got some fight? I can easily take care of this.”
“oooooooooooophhhhhh, please stop”
“You asked for this, you always run your mouth and ask for this!”
“Oooooooph please, no more hits to my chest”
“I told you, you asked for this.”
“Fuck you potato.”
“Fine then, take this!”
“Oppppppphhh!”
“Done yet?”
“I fight you!”
“You tried to remember? Even being a sneak attack bitch can’t help you.”
“I fight you in the ring, I will beat you!”
“What? You’re kidding, right?”
“I fight you in the ring. Settle it once and for all.”
“… maybe. What's the prize?”
“Winner breaks loser. Never fight again.”
This was an incredibly stupid and mental idea, one that absolutely no good would come of...
“Fine, I’m in. Meet me in the ring. Ten minutes. I’m going to take a piss.”
Aki was left alone in the locker room, still reeling from the attack. As he touched his stomach and chest, seeing if anything was broken, he wondered what the hell he just agreed to, and how the hell he was going to win this. Celtic, for his part, was wondering the same. This should have been over and done with, this should not be going on any longer. But part of him really wanted to pound Aki in the ring despite his compromised state, but another part of him quickly wondered what tricks this coward had in store….
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