Post by Steele on Jul 18, 2018 16:32:34 GMT -5
“Alright, hit me.”
“Are you sure, Boss?”
“Of course I’m fucking sure, now hit me!”
Steele peeled his T-Shirt off over his head and turned his back on Danny, stretching his arms out to the sides. Steele closed his eyes and Danny sighed as he twirled the kendo stick in his hands.
“You’re… positive, Boss?” Danny asked again.
“Danny… am I standing here telling you to hit me or am I telling you to make me a fucking cake? Now HIT ME!” Steele shot back.
Danny shook his head. He pulled back on the stick and fired. The bamboo lashed across Steele’s rhomboid muscles with a loud CRACK. In the dead silence of the empty wrestling gym, it sounded like a gunshot.
“Ah! Fuck!” screamed Steele as he jolted forward, dropping to his knees. His face contorted in a grimace, and all the muscles in his back contracted and twitched.
“Again, Boss?” offered Danny.
“No! NO! Shit! Oh, fuuuuck!” Steele gasped. “What the fuck did you hit me like that for!?”
Danny let the stick drop to his side. “You told me to hit you, Boss.”
Steele painstakingly walked on his knees over to the ring, using the apron to pull himself up to his feet. He supported himself on the ring post and turned to face Danny.
“Yeah, but I didn’t tell you to fucking injure me, did I? Jesus!”
“Sorry, Boss.” Danny muttered. “Guess I don’t know me own strength.”
“Jesus, give me strength…” Steele seethed. “How bad is it?” he said, turning round to show off his back.
Danny winced. A deep red welt ran across Jackson’s upper back, and it was becoming redder by the minute.
“Well, it could be worse.” Danny said, not reassuring Steele in the slightest.
“D’you want me to ‘ave a go?” Del said, stepping forward and reaching for the Kendo stick. Danny kept the stick a safe distance from his more aggressive partner.
“Better not, Del. You hit harder than me, and you wouldn’t stop even if we ‘ad to shoot you” said Danny.
“Suit yerself.” Del said, retreating back to his folding chair and flask of tea beside the ring. “But if you want a real man to toughen him up, then you know where I am.”
“Do not let that maniac anywhere near that stick, Danny. You hear me?” warned Steele. Danny nodded. “OK… let’s get this over and done with. Go again, only this time don’t try to skin me, alright?”
Danny cocked his head. “So… you want me to hit you, but… not too hard?”
“Right!” said Steele. “Don’t go crazy. Give me something that won’t hurt me.”
Danny rested the training sword over his shoulder and scratched his head. “Well… what good’s that gonna do?”
“What do you mean ‘what good’s that gonna do?’ Do you think I want you to put me in the hospital?” spat Steele.
“No, I mean… if you’re trying to toughen yourself up for this Four-Ring Circus match at Night Of Champions, then what good’s it gonna do if I just give you piddly little taps with the stick?”
Danny’s logic was sound. The Four-Ring Circus match promised to be a brutal and bloodthirsty spectacle of carnage and violence. Four rings enclosed by steel cages, weapons galore, and eight of the top competitors in the entire world battling it out for the X-Crown Championship.
If Steele was to stand a chance of making it through the match, much less winning the entire thing, then he would need to be in top physical condition. He had already proven his longevity in matches before, being able to soak up punishment for a sustained amount of time before turning the tables on his depleted opponent… but Steele had never been faced with such a test of endurance as this before. Without even taking the weaponry into consideration, at Night Of Champions there would be seven others ready to dole out the pain, not just one or two. And among their number would be “Hardcore” Harold Campbell.
Just that name alone would be enough of a clue to anybody that winning this match would test every single competitor to the absolute limit.
It had been Steele’s idea in the first place to hold this training session, but now he had moved the goalposts. After taking just one lash from Danny, Steele was having second thoughts.
“A kendo stick’s a kendo stick, right? What’s the difference?” asked Steele.
“Well quite a lot if you just want me to brush you with the bloody thing.” Danny shot back. “You think Hardcore Harry’s gonna wanna just tickle you with one of these?”
Steele waved Danny off dismissively. “That’s if he even makes it into the second stage with me.”
“You might not make it to the second stage at all if you start off in the same cage as him…” Danny responded.
“Well that’s like, a one-eighth chance, isn’t it? What are the odds of that happening?”
“Um… ‘bout one in eight, Boss.” Del proffered from the comfort of his seat.
“Alright, wise-ass.” Steele spat back. "But that means there’s a seven-eighths chance that he won’t start with me. That’s like… well it’s gotta be close to 99%, right? Practically guaranteed. Then you think that half the field’s gonna be cut before phase two begins and that gets cut to a… uh… three-and-a-half in four chance that we’ll end up in the same ring. 45-and-a-bit percent. Which is practically nothing.”
“Can I offer you a bit of advice?” said Danny. “Don’t try and open a bookies.”
Steele arched an eyebrow in confusion. Danny continued.
“Any chance is a chance, and if there’s a chance that Harold Campbell is gonna be in a hardcore match with you then there is every chance that you’re gonna find out what you look like on the inside.”
“Well there’s the same chance that he’s gonna find out the same from me” came the response from Steele.
“True. True.” Nodded Danny. “But you don’t wanna go into this thinking that you’re gonna out-brawl him. Trust me on this one, Boss. Me and Del know a thing or two about brawling and Harold Campbell’s one dangerous bastard.”
“I don’t know why you’re focusing on Harry anyway.” said Steele. “There’s six other people in this match. I might get matched up with the chick and get myself an easy pass to the next round!”
“You mean Zolothach?” Danny said.
“No- I meant Jack Diamond!” laughed Steele. Danny almost grinned, but his professionalism won out.
“And your ex-missus said that you never took matches seriously enough.” quipped Danny.
Steele immediately stopped laughing, and flew at Danny. He grabbed a handful of T-shirt and backed Danny up against the ring post.
“SHE is the reason I’m not ALREADY the X-Crown Champion!” he yelled, his face turning red to match his back. Del sprang up to his feet but Danny put a hand out to keep him back. “She thought she knew what was best for me… well she fucking DIDN’T! And neither do YOU! I don’t pay you to have an opinion! I pay you to watch my fucking back and that’s IT!”
Danny weathered the storm from Steele. Truth be told, he’d seen worse in his career as a nightclub bouncer in the East End of London. Much worse. He let Steele’s fury wash over him, blocking out all the noise as he readied himself to react if ‘Boss’ turned violent.
“...didn’t know a good thing when she saw it! … everything I did for her … never had any faith in me … held me back! …”
Slowly, Danny brought his arms up to chest height and slid them in between himself and Steele. With minimal force, he guided Steele backwards and out of his face. Steele gave up his hold on Danny’s shirt, and Danny smoothed out his neckline.
Steele stared at Danny through the red mist of his rage, breathing heavily. He glanced down at the floor to the discarded kendo stick, and then suddenly snatched it up.
Danny took up a ready stance in anticipation of a fight.
But the fight never came. Steele let out a cry of despair, anguish, and pent-up frustration and brought the cane rapidly into the center of his own forehead. The wood groaned and splintered, a second red mark appearing on Steele’s cranium. As Danny reached out to try and take the cane from his Boss, Steele sidestepped him and lashed out ferociously at the ring post. The stick bent, then gave way, shattering into hundreds of tiny wooden splinters.
Steele threw the remnants of the weapon to the floor, and stormed towards the exit.
As an incredulous Danny watched Steele leave he couldn’t help but think that if this Steele turned up to the Four-Ring Circus match, a new champion would be crowned for sure.
Unfortunately, this Steele was now heading out into the streets of Greater London.
This Steele, if left unchecked, might not even make it to the pay-per-view.
“Are you sure, Boss?”
“Of course I’m fucking sure, now hit me!”
Steele peeled his T-Shirt off over his head and turned his back on Danny, stretching his arms out to the sides. Steele closed his eyes and Danny sighed as he twirled the kendo stick in his hands.
“You’re… positive, Boss?” Danny asked again.
“Danny… am I standing here telling you to hit me or am I telling you to make me a fucking cake? Now HIT ME!” Steele shot back.
Danny shook his head. He pulled back on the stick and fired. The bamboo lashed across Steele’s rhomboid muscles with a loud CRACK. In the dead silence of the empty wrestling gym, it sounded like a gunshot.
“Ah! Fuck!” screamed Steele as he jolted forward, dropping to his knees. His face contorted in a grimace, and all the muscles in his back contracted and twitched.
“Again, Boss?” offered Danny.
“No! NO! Shit! Oh, fuuuuck!” Steele gasped. “What the fuck did you hit me like that for!?”
Danny let the stick drop to his side. “You told me to hit you, Boss.”
Steele painstakingly walked on his knees over to the ring, using the apron to pull himself up to his feet. He supported himself on the ring post and turned to face Danny.
“Yeah, but I didn’t tell you to fucking injure me, did I? Jesus!”
“Sorry, Boss.” Danny muttered. “Guess I don’t know me own strength.”
“Jesus, give me strength…” Steele seethed. “How bad is it?” he said, turning round to show off his back.
Danny winced. A deep red welt ran across Jackson’s upper back, and it was becoming redder by the minute.
“Well, it could be worse.” Danny said, not reassuring Steele in the slightest.
“D’you want me to ‘ave a go?” Del said, stepping forward and reaching for the Kendo stick. Danny kept the stick a safe distance from his more aggressive partner.
“Better not, Del. You hit harder than me, and you wouldn’t stop even if we ‘ad to shoot you” said Danny.
“Suit yerself.” Del said, retreating back to his folding chair and flask of tea beside the ring. “But if you want a real man to toughen him up, then you know where I am.”
“Do not let that maniac anywhere near that stick, Danny. You hear me?” warned Steele. Danny nodded. “OK… let’s get this over and done with. Go again, only this time don’t try to skin me, alright?”
Danny cocked his head. “So… you want me to hit you, but… not too hard?”
“Right!” said Steele. “Don’t go crazy. Give me something that won’t hurt me.”
Danny rested the training sword over his shoulder and scratched his head. “Well… what good’s that gonna do?”
“What do you mean ‘what good’s that gonna do?’ Do you think I want you to put me in the hospital?” spat Steele.
“No, I mean… if you’re trying to toughen yourself up for this Four-Ring Circus match at Night Of Champions, then what good’s it gonna do if I just give you piddly little taps with the stick?”
Danny’s logic was sound. The Four-Ring Circus match promised to be a brutal and bloodthirsty spectacle of carnage and violence. Four rings enclosed by steel cages, weapons galore, and eight of the top competitors in the entire world battling it out for the X-Crown Championship.
If Steele was to stand a chance of making it through the match, much less winning the entire thing, then he would need to be in top physical condition. He had already proven his longevity in matches before, being able to soak up punishment for a sustained amount of time before turning the tables on his depleted opponent… but Steele had never been faced with such a test of endurance as this before. Without even taking the weaponry into consideration, at Night Of Champions there would be seven others ready to dole out the pain, not just one or two. And among their number would be “Hardcore” Harold Campbell.
Just that name alone would be enough of a clue to anybody that winning this match would test every single competitor to the absolute limit.
It had been Steele’s idea in the first place to hold this training session, but now he had moved the goalposts. After taking just one lash from Danny, Steele was having second thoughts.
“A kendo stick’s a kendo stick, right? What’s the difference?” asked Steele.
“Well quite a lot if you just want me to brush you with the bloody thing.” Danny shot back. “You think Hardcore Harry’s gonna wanna just tickle you with one of these?”
Steele waved Danny off dismissively. “That’s if he even makes it into the second stage with me.”
“You might not make it to the second stage at all if you start off in the same cage as him…” Danny responded.
“Well that’s like, a one-eighth chance, isn’t it? What are the odds of that happening?”
“Um… ‘bout one in eight, Boss.” Del proffered from the comfort of his seat.
“Alright, wise-ass.” Steele spat back. "But that means there’s a seven-eighths chance that he won’t start with me. That’s like… well it’s gotta be close to 99%, right? Practically guaranteed. Then you think that half the field’s gonna be cut before phase two begins and that gets cut to a… uh… three-and-a-half in four chance that we’ll end up in the same ring. 45-and-a-bit percent. Which is practically nothing.”
“Can I offer you a bit of advice?” said Danny. “Don’t try and open a bookies.”
Steele arched an eyebrow in confusion. Danny continued.
“Any chance is a chance, and if there’s a chance that Harold Campbell is gonna be in a hardcore match with you then there is every chance that you’re gonna find out what you look like on the inside.”
“Well there’s the same chance that he’s gonna find out the same from me” came the response from Steele.
“True. True.” Nodded Danny. “But you don’t wanna go into this thinking that you’re gonna out-brawl him. Trust me on this one, Boss. Me and Del know a thing or two about brawling and Harold Campbell’s one dangerous bastard.”
“I don’t know why you’re focusing on Harry anyway.” said Steele. “There’s six other people in this match. I might get matched up with the chick and get myself an easy pass to the next round!”
“You mean Zolothach?” Danny said.
“No- I meant Jack Diamond!” laughed Steele. Danny almost grinned, but his professionalism won out.
“And your ex-missus said that you never took matches seriously enough.” quipped Danny.
Steele immediately stopped laughing, and flew at Danny. He grabbed a handful of T-shirt and backed Danny up against the ring post.
“SHE is the reason I’m not ALREADY the X-Crown Champion!” he yelled, his face turning red to match his back. Del sprang up to his feet but Danny put a hand out to keep him back. “She thought she knew what was best for me… well she fucking DIDN’T! And neither do YOU! I don’t pay you to have an opinion! I pay you to watch my fucking back and that’s IT!”
Danny weathered the storm from Steele. Truth be told, he’d seen worse in his career as a nightclub bouncer in the East End of London. Much worse. He let Steele’s fury wash over him, blocking out all the noise as he readied himself to react if ‘Boss’ turned violent.
“...didn’t know a good thing when she saw it! … everything I did for her … never had any faith in me … held me back! …”
Slowly, Danny brought his arms up to chest height and slid them in between himself and Steele. With minimal force, he guided Steele backwards and out of his face. Steele gave up his hold on Danny’s shirt, and Danny smoothed out his neckline.
Steele stared at Danny through the red mist of his rage, breathing heavily. He glanced down at the floor to the discarded kendo stick, and then suddenly snatched it up.
Danny took up a ready stance in anticipation of a fight.
But the fight never came. Steele let out a cry of despair, anguish, and pent-up frustration and brought the cane rapidly into the center of his own forehead. The wood groaned and splintered, a second red mark appearing on Steele’s cranium. As Danny reached out to try and take the cane from his Boss, Steele sidestepped him and lashed out ferociously at the ring post. The stick bent, then gave way, shattering into hundreds of tiny wooden splinters.
Steele threw the remnants of the weapon to the floor, and stormed towards the exit.
As an incredulous Danny watched Steele leave he couldn’t help but think that if this Steele turned up to the Four-Ring Circus match, a new champion would be crowned for sure.
Unfortunately, this Steele was now heading out into the streets of Greater London.
This Steele, if left unchecked, might not even make it to the pay-per-view.