Post by poisonpit on May 23, 2007 12:30:30 GMT -6
Mick Cormac, the proud bastard he is, he throws his own sheet to the wind.
W/ all the audacity he can manage, he seeks his solace in a crowded lockerroom.
The combatants are tired from the night's rigors, not willing to allow this spectacle, but no one can do anything, paused by the apparent unpredictability of the situation, the men stand like statues.
Like everyone else, Enrique Alvarez watches the horrorshow taking place in front of him. Proud men dissolve at the sight of this drunken brawler, a powderkeg w/ several fuses.
The bastard, Alvarez thinks.
Buddy Love, the only guy brave (or naive) enough to do anything steps up to the Irishman. Like a good friend, he places his hand on his shoulder.
Love: Brother, you need...
A quick uppercut sends Buddy to the floor, and any semblence is lost in a fray of frustration.
Toro would have willingly defended his partner's honor, had it not been for that Godamn knife.
...
A pool of fresh blood settles on the floor in Derry, Maine; its source having left the room.
Enrique helps his downed partner to his feet.
Love: Did I get some? Well come on, tell me she at least had some great gozongas!?!
W/ a wry smile, Enrique escorts Buddy down the hall towards the trainer's room. He looks dodgily down the adjacent corridors, hoping beyond hope that their path doesn't meet once again w/ the psychopath.
Instead walking towards them is a spector of light, an angel of mercy.
Lovejoy: Hey, what's going on here fellas?
Alvarez hesitates, but firmly makes the decision to do the right thing.
Alvarez: This is the handywork of your friend Cormac.
Lovejoy: Wonderful. This is all I need. What happened?
Alvarez: We were in the locker room getting ready to leave when the Irishman makes his appearance. Apparently not satified w/ making a mockery of tonight's events in the ring, he decides to push the envelope further w/ another bottle of whiskey, and...
Lovejoy: Go on.
A lump in his throat. Enrique Alvarez has the power to dispose of this apparent problem right here and now. If he mentions the knife to the bossman, Cormac would be fired for sure.
Alvarez: The Irishman enters the lockerrom in a drunken haze. My partner offers a hand of familiarity that is returned by a sucker punch. Now, w/ myself and several others standing at attention... the Irishman leaves the lockerroom to find his remedies elsewhere.
Buddy: Probably goin out to find some womens.
Lovejoy: That's it, he just left?
Alvarez: He didn't have much of a choice, sir.
Lovejoy looks on skeptically.
Alvarez: What we would like to know is what you plan to do about this problem.
Lovejoy: Heaven knows. I'm at a loss w/ that man. If there were anything I could do to stop him, I would have done it long ago.
Powered by bitter emotions and a stiff longing for retribution, Enrique Alvarez is struck by an idea.
Alvarez: Give him to us.
Lovejoy: What?
Alvarez: Put him in the ring against the two of us. Give us a chance to straighten him out.
Lovejoy: Are you sure that...
Alvarez: We're sure of it.
Lovejoy: Alright then, you got your match next week. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some things to attend to.
Enrique and Buddy look on as Lovejoy leaves them.
Buddy seems to be mildly content, even w/ the pain in his jaw.
Alvarez, however, seems more pissed off than ever.
W/ all the audacity he can manage, he seeks his solace in a crowded lockerroom.
The combatants are tired from the night's rigors, not willing to allow this spectacle, but no one can do anything, paused by the apparent unpredictability of the situation, the men stand like statues.
Like everyone else, Enrique Alvarez watches the horrorshow taking place in front of him. Proud men dissolve at the sight of this drunken brawler, a powderkeg w/ several fuses.
The bastard, Alvarez thinks.
Buddy Love, the only guy brave (or naive) enough to do anything steps up to the Irishman. Like a good friend, he places his hand on his shoulder.
Love: Brother, you need...
A quick uppercut sends Buddy to the floor, and any semblence is lost in a fray of frustration.
Toro would have willingly defended his partner's honor, had it not been for that Godamn knife.
...
A pool of fresh blood settles on the floor in Derry, Maine; its source having left the room.
Enrique helps his downed partner to his feet.
Love: Did I get some? Well come on, tell me she at least had some great gozongas!?!
W/ a wry smile, Enrique escorts Buddy down the hall towards the trainer's room. He looks dodgily down the adjacent corridors, hoping beyond hope that their path doesn't meet once again w/ the psychopath.
Instead walking towards them is a spector of light, an angel of mercy.
Lovejoy: Hey, what's going on here fellas?
Alvarez hesitates, but firmly makes the decision to do the right thing.
Alvarez: This is the handywork of your friend Cormac.
Lovejoy: Wonderful. This is all I need. What happened?
Alvarez: We were in the locker room getting ready to leave when the Irishman makes his appearance. Apparently not satified w/ making a mockery of tonight's events in the ring, he decides to push the envelope further w/ another bottle of whiskey, and...
Lovejoy: Go on.
A lump in his throat. Enrique Alvarez has the power to dispose of this apparent problem right here and now. If he mentions the knife to the bossman, Cormac would be fired for sure.
Alvarez: The Irishman enters the lockerrom in a drunken haze. My partner offers a hand of familiarity that is returned by a sucker punch. Now, w/ myself and several others standing at attention... the Irishman leaves the lockerroom to find his remedies elsewhere.
Buddy: Probably goin out to find some womens.
Lovejoy: That's it, he just left?
Alvarez: He didn't have much of a choice, sir.
Lovejoy looks on skeptically.
Alvarez: What we would like to know is what you plan to do about this problem.
Lovejoy: Heaven knows. I'm at a loss w/ that man. If there were anything I could do to stop him, I would have done it long ago.
Powered by bitter emotions and a stiff longing for retribution, Enrique Alvarez is struck by an idea.
Alvarez: Give him to us.
Lovejoy: What?
Alvarez: Put him in the ring against the two of us. Give us a chance to straighten him out.
Lovejoy: Are you sure that...
Alvarez: We're sure of it.
Lovejoy: Alright then, you got your match next week. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some things to attend to.
Enrique and Buddy look on as Lovejoy leaves them.
Buddy seems to be mildly content, even w/ the pain in his jaw.
Alvarez, however, seems more pissed off than ever.