Post by Irvine on Feb 8, 2019 23:59:25 GMT -5
“Why do I do this to myself.”
Irvine let out a low grumble as he laid on the bed, combat boots tapping empty air as his hand rested behind his head.. Ol’ Chubbman wasted no expense for his One More Round promotions number one face, especially when it came to plastering reminders of who he was all over the black thermal he had tucked into his jeans. The quarters where decked to the gill. Irvine hadn’t seen such plush décor since his ex-wife attempted to waste half of his money at a Bed, Bath, and Beyond before taking half in their divorce. Pictures hung on the walls as warm lighting filled the room. The soft rumble of the fridge played a duet with the soft rubble of the waves several feet below his room.
Even with all the money funneled into the room it couldn’t change the atmosphere for Irvine, it still reminded him of being stuffed into a steel can floating round the Mediterranean waiting for people to need some killing to be done so the Marines and Sailors could have an excuse just to fucking do something.
The “new” MAX was almost completely similar to the old. Chubbman may have overhauled it here and there, the original financer and owner was now gone but the place still had the same feel to it that it always had for Irvine. A Place of betrayal, a place filled with scum, a plus that stunk worse than Holly Hammerstein after lathering herself in bacon fat to get Jacob aroused enough to give her a decent” dicking.
“I swear to go if I could get my hands on that motherfucker it would make having to listen to AJ flirt with all the female staff almost bearable.”
His face snarled at the mere thought of having to be around the likes of Hammerstein or AJ Knight anymore. No matter where Irvine went it seemed like Hammerstein eventually would run off or AJ would come running. I was impossible to avoid running into two dumbasses like them when they needed pity or affirmation as much as Alex needed money.
Irvine lifted his head up slightly and pulled the pillow above him against his neck. He unfolded a slip of paper and gazed at it again for what felt like the five thousandth time. The list of the first day of the tour’s bouts. The list was littered with the same diseases that had been suckling MAX dry. Again, they were names he had prayed he could have found some peace for just a little bit from.
“Edwards. Knight. Oka. Please make it far enough in the tournament that I get another chance to end your fucking careers.”
Irvine had wanted to face Edward’s for years, two in ring fighters who were good at dismantling enemies in the ring. That was until he found out what a disaster the man who would call himself “The Burning Heart” actually was. Edward’s seemed to bitch more than a teenage girl missing her Midol during her Menses. Oka seemed to be different, perhaps the yin to Edwards yang as it were.
Then of course there was the true bastard in question.
Irvine rose up out of the bed slowly till he was sitting on the edge of the bed, crumbling up the slip of paper and tossing it over in to the trash bin nearest him. The crumbled edges of the paper softly rustled against the surface of the cheap plastic.
It was not mystery Irvine and AJ Knight hated one another. They two men couldn’t even stand to hear one another let alone see or work with one another. Yet here again fate temps the two men with low hanging fruit, the possibility to end one another yet again. A chance to fill the purses of the “leaders” in wrestling at the expenses of not only two men’s bodies but also their mental well beings as well. There was no telling what the two men would do to one another once they got into the ring again.
Irvine slowly run his hand upon his head as if trying to push around his own thoughts in his head. All Irvine needed to do was get through Sawamura and he could break Edwards.
Get through Edwards to kill AJ.
Get through this tournament and finally get to fight in peace.
“I don’t even know if this shit is worth the money anymore.”
Irvine let out a low grumble as he laid on the bed, combat boots tapping empty air as his hand rested behind his head.. Ol’ Chubbman wasted no expense for his One More Round promotions number one face, especially when it came to plastering reminders of who he was all over the black thermal he had tucked into his jeans. The quarters where decked to the gill. Irvine hadn’t seen such plush décor since his ex-wife attempted to waste half of his money at a Bed, Bath, and Beyond before taking half in their divorce. Pictures hung on the walls as warm lighting filled the room. The soft rumble of the fridge played a duet with the soft rubble of the waves several feet below his room.
Even with all the money funneled into the room it couldn’t change the atmosphere for Irvine, it still reminded him of being stuffed into a steel can floating round the Mediterranean waiting for people to need some killing to be done so the Marines and Sailors could have an excuse just to fucking do something.
The “new” MAX was almost completely similar to the old. Chubbman may have overhauled it here and there, the original financer and owner was now gone but the place still had the same feel to it that it always had for Irvine. A Place of betrayal, a place filled with scum, a plus that stunk worse than Holly Hammerstein after lathering herself in bacon fat to get Jacob aroused enough to give her a decent” dicking.
“I swear to go if I could get my hands on that motherfucker it would make having to listen to AJ flirt with all the female staff almost bearable.”
His face snarled at the mere thought of having to be around the likes of Hammerstein or AJ Knight anymore. No matter where Irvine went it seemed like Hammerstein eventually would run off or AJ would come running. I was impossible to avoid running into two dumbasses like them when they needed pity or affirmation as much as Alex needed money.
Irvine lifted his head up slightly and pulled the pillow above him against his neck. He unfolded a slip of paper and gazed at it again for what felt like the five thousandth time. The list of the first day of the tour’s bouts. The list was littered with the same diseases that had been suckling MAX dry. Again, they were names he had prayed he could have found some peace for just a little bit from.
“Edwards. Knight. Oka. Please make it far enough in the tournament that I get another chance to end your fucking careers.”
Irvine had wanted to face Edward’s for years, two in ring fighters who were good at dismantling enemies in the ring. That was until he found out what a disaster the man who would call himself “The Burning Heart” actually was. Edward’s seemed to bitch more than a teenage girl missing her Midol during her Menses. Oka seemed to be different, perhaps the yin to Edwards yang as it were.
Then of course there was the true bastard in question.
Irvine rose up out of the bed slowly till he was sitting on the edge of the bed, crumbling up the slip of paper and tossing it over in to the trash bin nearest him. The crumbled edges of the paper softly rustled against the surface of the cheap plastic.
It was not mystery Irvine and AJ Knight hated one another. They two men couldn’t even stand to hear one another let alone see or work with one another. Yet here again fate temps the two men with low hanging fruit, the possibility to end one another yet again. A chance to fill the purses of the “leaders” in wrestling at the expenses of not only two men’s bodies but also their mental well beings as well. There was no telling what the two men would do to one another once they got into the ring again.
Irvine slowly run his hand upon his head as if trying to push around his own thoughts in his head. All Irvine needed to do was get through Sawamura and he could break Edwards.
Get through Edwards to kill AJ.
Get through this tournament and finally get to fight in peace.
“I don’t even know if this shit is worth the money anymore.”