Notes: This is a short, 1000 word RP because it's building up to something great. Just roll with it, the length might affect the voting but *prays* play fair please. It'll all be worth putting up with the short posts when you realize how this ends. It'll be good, I promise. In other news, I have tried to do colors that work with the newer theme, but if you can't see some of the lighter colors just flick across to the new theme and it works fine, also works fine in the original theme. Anyone willing to review this RP can feel free, always after pointers. Also, my spoiler doesn't want to bloody work around this so sorry.
Williams Residence - San Antonio, Texas - USA
Barney Williams: I used to think, why do I fight. Why do I fight if I have nothing to fight for?
The punching bag in front of him would swing as a short, right jab connects with it. It would swing back, another punch being thrown in it's direction. Shorter, left handed hooks were a great move, always good at neutralizing an opponent. Mr Williams breathing, every single breath echoing around the empty basement gym. The weights rack in the corner, the treadmill on the wall. Each of those objects doing nothing to stop the echo. Each and every single bead of sweat dripping, soaking the ginger hair and the sweatier forehead of Mr Williams as he threw yet another punch. A left jab this time, following it up with a knee to the bag. Another bead of sweat, another echo as skin tore and ripped from another brutal shot on the bag.
Barney Williams: Now I have something to fight for, something to leave my mark on.
The Prometheus Bolt, the prize from the worst match he'd ever gone through. He'd been beaten, so had the rental car he'd rented for the entrance he'd planned out so well. He'd been beaten, but he'd walked out the victor. The bolt itself lay in the corner of the gym, behind Michael Rook, motivation for Williams during those hours he practiced, gave every single bit of energy into fighting. Sure, he was no Hayven, sure he was no Nero. He might not be, but he was Barney Williams.
Michael Rook: So you do this, basic shit? Day in and day out, you spend time down here beating up a bag? There is more important stuff than beating a bag you know.
Mr Williams stopped, eyes on his best friend lightly. He threw one final punch into the bag, growling lightly. He hated being asked why he trained so much, hated being told their was stuff more important than working out. He needed to be at his physical peak, at his bloody well best. Cheri Hayven wouldn't come lightly, she wouldn't go down without a fight. He needed to spend his time, working to get to his best. If he wanted a shot when he cashed in, he needed to be perfect. Of course, his home in San Antonio was full of workout equipment, then of course he had the massive gym in the basement where he was currently.
Barney Williams: You know why I do it. You know why I train day in and day out, you know what it means if I bring home the gold. I will finally be able to provide for those who care about me, who I care about.
Another bead of sweat, a sigh from somewhere across the room. Michael Rook stood up, shaking his head. Mr Rook, his best friend had fallen into something of a trance. Day in and day out, training. He did make a point, how great it would be to finally be a Legacy Champion, it was a valid point. It was the point that his best friend had lost sight of what classed as fun. His job had taken over his life, his job had taken over his friends. The word fun didn't appear to be in the vocabulary currently owned by his best friend. He knew he needed to get his friend to lighten up, the question was.
How?
Michael Rook: Whatever, just come back to us when you want to, you know. You know, go have some fun or whatever dude, we miss you out there. Ever since Last Rights you've become something of a hermit, you hardly leave the house anymore. You spend days and days down here. Something isn't right.
With that, Michael swept from the room. Barney was left alone, fine by him. He took another swig of his gallon bottle of water, turning back to the punching bag. The back of his right hand come up, wiping a bead of sweat back from his head. Another punch, the right hand coming down and forward in a powerful jab. A kick followed it, a roundhouse to the mid area of the bag. The ribs of a normal human, they would of just taken a brutal beating with the roundhouse in question. Mr Williams smiled, another kick, this time a straight kick to the front of the bag, followed up by a right hook.
The Passing of Time
The words, the words replaying over and over again. Over and over as days turned into even more days. He couldn't remember leaving the house, he just remembered sleeping and training. Mr Barney Williams wanted, needed to be the best. It was easy, just train. Training was freedom, peace of mind. Well, normally. This time round he had those words floating in his mind, the same one's he'd spoken to Mr Rook only days before.
Barney Williams: I used to think, why do I fight. Why do I fight if I have nothing to fight for?
It was true what he'd spoken after. He did have something to fight for now, The Legacy Championship. A belt he'd wanted to claim since day one, a belt he would claim as soon as he was ready. The only way to be ready was to train, to force himself to work through the sweat currently dripping from his hairline and armpits. To force through it all to become better at everything, to improve everything about him, to improve literally everything about him. He needed to be ready, Cheri Hayven would need to look out. Mr Kyle would need to look out. Daiko, Hammerpunch, whoever was the god damn Legacy Champion would need to look out.
When he cashed in, he would be ready. Until then, he had training to do. His first match after Last Rights had arrived in an email days back. Mr La Cara De La Fantasma, a man who he'd defeated after a war. It was, the Prometheus Bolt match was a bloody war at Last Rights. Men fell, men bled and crumbled around La Cara De La Fantasma and Barney Williams while they had battled, while they had dueled in the ring, while they had killed an Aventador.
He'd fell victim to the Aim to Please. It was true, the name of that move. Barney Williams did aim to please. He aimed to please the crowd, the fans in attendance and watching at home. He aimed to please the veterans of the business. He aimed to please every single eye that was on him during his matches. From his opponents to his enemies to the fans in attendance.
Then, the door burst open. A face in the door, the other best friend of Mr Barney Williams. It was Mr James Wilkens, he looked rushed, angry or annoyed. The news he had wasn't much better. Barney wasn't quite sure what it was, the look on Wilkens face said it was something bad however. He wasn't sure, not sure at all.
James Wilkens: Rookie's gone and done something stupid. Grab a jacket and get ready to run, i'll explain on the way child.
