NationStates Jolt Archive

OCC: This is open to anyone. Warning, graphic content

Sean staggered around the ring, his eyes blurred, jaw throbbing in pain, the blood running down his nose. The weary fighter raised his fists to guard his eyes. A fist came at him, grinding against his cheek, the sweat and blood flew into the air. Everything seemed to slow down. The fist connected and sent a shockwave of pain that hurled him bak, suspended in the air. As he fell back, the light shinned on his battered face, the basement was filled with men cheering and shouting. Many of them too were battered and spitting blood on the ground. Finally, his pained body reached the mat, crashing down his arms went into the air and came back down to his sides.
'What happened? Why am I here? Am I gonna die?' he thought. Unable to get to his feet he laid there...the fight was over. He lost his first bout. He was helped to his feet and led to a cprner of the basement where several others were resting. Fight Club continued.

Three days earlier...

Sean Leary, a young man in his mid-twenties sat up at his desk. The day was long, dull, boring. The kind of day that rots the mind. Sean was out of college and working at a law firm. He aspired to be a lawyer someday. However, the only place that accepted him was a law firm who's cliants re certain corporations. The law firm was Locke & Associates. Larry Locke was an aging, corrupt lawyer who sold his soul to the devil. Many a law suit were shot down by him and the other lawyers. Sean was nothing more than an arrand boy, delivering documents, researching, and driving those bastards around. The pay was aweful and the hours long, he didn't sleep much.
"Sean, I need those files for the Smith case soon!" exclaimed Mr. Stanton, one of the lawyers. He was no better than Locke.
"Yes, sir" Sean replied. His desk was in one of the forgotten areas, in the basement with all the old files and books. He stood up and went throught the files and found the one they wanted and gave it to Mr.Satnton, who didn't even say thanks.

Night came and it was still warm out. He stepped onto the street where he saw all the bright billboards urging you to buy shampoo, see a movie, watch a teen pop idol shake her ass infront of throngs of braced-teeth acne faced teens. Society in his mind, gave him a bum rap.

Sean walked down the steps to the subway. As he stood there a man, cellphone embedded in his ear, large coffee in hand danced through the crowd. He blabbed on and on about some sort of economic report that he was doing. At first, Sean tried to ignore this loud man. He shouted into the cellphone and bumped into Sean, the coffee spilling onto Sean's dress shirt.
"Watch where you're going, ass-hole!" the other guy shouted! Sean couldn't believe that this bastard was yelling at him. It was a long stressful day and this was the last thing he needed.
"You watch where you're goin' you fuckfaced idiot!!" Sean snapped back. The man in his business suit was still on his cellphone talking to someone else "Hold on larry, some idit made me spill my coffee"

Something in Sean snapped, it was beyond his mind's ability to understand this man. Where his brain failed, his fist took up the slack and it crashed into the man, the cellphone flew out of his face and plummeted to the ground. The man staggered to the ground. The crows stood and watched. A policeman tried to fight his way throught the crowd. Sean took off. He never felt so good in his life.

OCC: I know some of you don't think this rp won't work. But I don't care. If you decide to participate, then great. If not, then this'll just be a story for all of you to read.

Sean finally made it to his apartment. The light flicked on and he went to the bathroom. He looked down at his hand, it hurt a bit and was red on the knuckles. He had been in a few fights before but for some reason hitting that man felt great. Perhaps because he was a businessman and not some punk who was harassing your girlfriend back in high school. The one knuckle was cut, probably from the phone so he tended to it and made a sandwich and sat at the table. The news had nothing good. Just the usual: murder, scandal, road rage, presidental follies and scandals, Iraq, bird flu, etc. he quickly turned it off and ate in silence.

A night of little sleep folowed which was interrupted by the lud buzzing of an alarm clock. Sean smacked it and stumbled out of bed. The morning dj's were one of the few things that he would listen to the radio for. He made some toast and a left-over slice of ham. Not very filling but he didn't have much time. His one knuckle was a bit swollen but didn't really hurt.
'I'm sure that guy's face hurts alot more' he thought and smiled. He put on his clothes and walked out, back on the subway and back at his tiny desk. All he really thought about that day was fighting. Throwing that punch woke something deep inside him, but he didn't know what it was.

OCC: Bump