P . A . U
04.07.21
1415 Hours
Tiger Boxing Gym
Los Angeles, California
Sil felt the static as he looked in the ring at the dead-set eyes that peered on him. Eyes of a vulture. It wasn't every day that someone was openly challenging him to a boxing match. He gave a telltale grin, walking over to Puss.
"Check out Kid Dynamite."
Sil said to Puss, referring to Tito. He was relaxed, despite the raging bull that awaited him in the ring. Puss wasn't too enthralled at Tito's antics, and he gave him a side-eye before trotting over to Tito."Kid, the fuck you doin'? I TOLD YOU to keep your mouth shut! Now you're definitely not walkin' outta here with a contract!"
"Fuck your contract, Puss! I got my potna' over here recording what I'm about to do to your meathead nephew. I got a better deal on the line with EVOLVE if I knockout this pinche maricon!"
Across from Sil stood Tito's friend, dressed like the stereotypical cholo; a striped Ben Davis shirt, black Dickie's shorts, and some Nike Cortez' over some white tube socks, and slicked-back hair. He had his phone out, ready to record the action that was about to take place.
"The fuck you's just say ya JAMOKE!?" Salvatore said in anger and disbelief. His olive tone skin quickly turned a shade of red. The intention to grab his Ruger and empty a clip into this kid was fresh on his mind, but... he knew better than to get his hands dirty in unfamiliar territory. Puss is from Jersey and only comes out to California if there is big business on the table.
"I said I'm gonna knock your mans the FUCK. OUT! And you can shove that contract up ya ass, wey! Stop playin' wit me and get him in the fuckin' ring!"
Puss could do no more than shake his head and made his way back to Sil, who was knelt over a bench. He was tying his Adidas boxing shoes and had two rolls of TITLE hand-wraps in front of him on the ground. He didn't seem to be bothered by the commotion. He grew up dealing with this kind of shit, every day.
"C'mon old man, we ain't got all day! Been waiting over two hours for you already!" Tito began jumping up and down, shadowboxing the air.
"Sil! This muddafucka gots EVOLVE on his payroll. You can't let him walk outta here with a pulse!"
"FUCK EVOLVE, GODDAMMIT!" Sil said with a grin as he picked up his hand wraps. He began the process of wrapping up his hands as he casually eyed his adversary in the ring. "What did you say this kid's record was again?"
"Twelve and O, ten by knockout."
"Lightwork." Sil said, before giving a nonchalant stretch to his shoulders. He picked up a red set of twelve-ounce TITLE gloves that were in his gym bag and put them on. Puss helped him with tightening the Velcro, before he slid through the ropes, and walked to the corner across from Tito. Fred "Scraps" Toney was there waiting for him as he fist-bumped his right glove.
"Look who's back! "Southpaw" Sil!" Toney gleefully said. His eyes glanced at Tito, who at this time was wide-eyed and staring back at him. Tito began to smash his eight-ounce GRANT gloves together and was ready to let loose. The old man snickered, before looking back at Sil. "Fresh meat..." Toney murmured, making Sil chuckle at the old man's shallow jab at the kid.
"I'll toy with him Scraps. Where's my gumshield?"
"Right here, son. Give em' hell!" Scraps said, before placing a black mouthguard in Sil's mouth. He walked over to the timer.
"Whaddasay boys, three minute rounds?"
"I DONT GIVE A FUCK!" Tito said through his mouthpiece. The old man found it amusing, chuckling as he set the adjustments to the timer.
"I bet you don't you lil punk mothafucka." Toney said under his breath; flicking the power knob to "ON".
*BING!
*BING!
*BING!
Tito comes out of his corner in a frenzy, immediately swinging with a right haymaker. Sil, in southpaw stance effortlessly slips the hook, and escapes the corner. Sil begins probing with his jab, keeping the pressure off of him. One of the jabs land, and shifts Tito's head back. Tito goes into a peek-a-boo stance, weaving in and out of Sil's continuous feints. The two now toe the line in the center of the ring; Sil continuously bobbing his head as Tito weaves in and lands a right, followed by a left to Sil's body. He follows that up with a left hook to the head that is blocked by Sil. Sil comes back landing with a one-two, slipping another one of Tito's hooks.
Sil looks relaxed in the ring, not too worried about Tito's power until Tito feinted a jab; then landing a right hook to the body. Sil adjusted by switching up to a Philly Shell guard in an attempt to throw Tito off. Tito goes in for another jab, in which Sil rolled his shoulder; countering with an overhand left that lands on the side of Tito's head. Tito grinned at Sil, shaking his head as to say he didn't hurt him, before weaving into the pocket and landing a right hook to Sil's head. He now has Sil on the ropes and begins teeing off with another flurry of left and right hooks to the body. At this time the big man is in full guard, as he looks to be stunned from the hook.
*BEEP *BEEP *BEEP *BEEP *BEEP
"Thirty seconds, Sil! Show me something!" Toney shouted from Sil's corner. Tito was looking to knock Sil out, as he tried to slip an uppercut through Sil's guard, to no avail. Sil covered up, blocking most of Tito's haymakers, and escaped the ropes. He connects with a left hook to Tito's liver, followed by a left to the head.
*BING!
*BING!
*BING!
End of the round. Both men stare each other down for a brief second, before returning to their neutral corners. Tito refuses a stool from his friend recording the action, as does Sil. Sil's breathing is somewhat heavy, but he still seems relaxed. Fred takes out Sil's mouthguard, as Sil turns his back to the corner, and leans on the ropes. The two men don't break eye contact, staring deep into each other's souls. Sil takes a swig of water from his trainer.
"He's open for that uppercut Sil. Get inside, hit him with the uppercut and follow it up with a left hook. Put him on his ass!" Toney barks into Sil's ear with his best Angelo Dundee impression. "How you feelin' after that right?" Scraps coached to Sil.
"Never felt better, goddammit." Sil mumbled. He spit the excess water from his mouth and Toney put his gumshield back in. Back to work.
*BING!
*BING!
*BING!
Round two. Tito and Sil feel each other out for a few seconds by circling the ring. Tito's the first to let off a jab, as it connects to Sil's head. He slides into the pocket for a left and right hook to the body. He follows that up with a right hook that connects to Sil's head, and Sil looks to be stunned by the barrage of punches that land. Tito lunges onto Sil with another combo of hooks to the head, which Sil is able to block, as he sidesteps around Tito. Tito doesn't let up on the assault, as he goes for a looping hook, in which Sil slips. Sil is backpedaling at this point, probing with his jab to keep Tito at bay.
"FUCK EM UP TITO!" Tito's friend shouted out; his phone shaking in his hand. The adrenaline was high in the building, everyone now either recording the fight or spectating the war taking place. Tito is headhunting Sil, as he goes in for another hook, but Sil sidesteps again, landing a check hook with his left, and follows up with a VICIOUS right uppercut right on Tito's jaw.
Ohhhhhhhhh!
The gym reacts to the ferocity of the uppercut that puts Tito on skates. He looks like he's trying to create a new dance, as his feet go one way, and his body goes the other. With the look of terror in his eyes, he tries to put his hands up to block the oncoming left hook, but his discombobulated brain fails to register the signal.
SMMMMMASH!
Sil lands a nasty left hook on Tito's jaw that sends him crashing to the canvas. His body lays motionless in a crucifix position, with his eyes wide shut. He's been knocked unconscious.
"THAT'S WHAT THE FUCK I'M TALKIN' ABOUT SILVIO!" Pussy shouts in triumph. He looks as if he's about to cry from Sil's heroic performance. Sil stands in the corner; looking down at the lifeless body that once was "Two Gunz".
Tito Gonzales opened his eyes. He didn't know what city he was in, what year it was, or his mother's name. He's got phones in his face, as well as Terrence Taylor putting smelling salts over his nose. Dazed and confused he slowly raises up like a zombie, staring up at a gigantic figure that stands tall over him like a scene out of The Incredible Hulk.
"Hows that humble pie taste, brotha?" Sil says with a smile. He offers a hand to the fallen man, who grabs onto Sil's glove; who pulls him up.
"Wh... What?" Tito could barely say as he gets to his feet.
"I knocked you the FUCK out, brotha! But you put up a good fight! Now go tell EVOLVE that ELITE is here, and we are here to fuckin' stay GODDAMMIT!" Sil shouted. The kid still couldn't gather what had happened.
"P..P...Puss! I'm sorry wey... please, can I get that contract?" Tito mumbled between gasps to Big Puss.
"FUUUUUUUHHHHHGGEEEEHHHHHDAAAAAABOOOOOOOUTIIIIIIIT!" Puss shouted, before grabbing a baseball bat and chasing them both out of the gym.
___________________________________________________
.::// Chapter 003 \\::.
A worn weight bench supported the three hundred plus pound frame that was sprawled against it. The gargantuan figure of a man pumped his shoulders ceaselessly with plasma, and nutrients doing seated shoulder presses; taking two, one hundred and thirty-pound dumbbells for a ride on the incline.
"HOOOOOP - AHHHHHH!"
His shoulders were on fire. His flushed, bruised face resembled that of a demon after every rep pumped endless amounts of lactic acid into his muscles.
"One more..." he coached himself, as he raised the weights for a twentieth "SHOOP-AH!".
BOOOOOOOOOM!
He dropped the weights with the inertia of a plane crash, as the tile floor made the sound of pottery breaking.
"GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMN! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" he let out from the bottom of his lungs, leaning over as he sulked in the incredible pump that he was experiencing. He veered his eyes towards the windows to his office. He could see Jerry, the forklift operator of the warehouse walking towards one of the open bay doors. Jerry fumbled through the pocket on his denim shirt, unraveling a pack of Marlboro Reds before striking one up, and blowing out a plume of smoke.
"I can smell that shit already..." Sil said to himself, shaking his head. He peered over to the flat-screen that was on the wall by the office door, which showed the security footage that covered the grounds around his warehouse. He could see a white Nissan Altima pull in towards the entrance, as he raised an eyebrow. Very rarely do guests stop by the drop yard. It didn't take long for him to register who could be paying him a visit.
"Media..." he said under his breath, as a trailing Chrysler Town & Country pulled in beside the Altima. A female, as well as a man holding equipment entered warehouse. Sil could see Jerry conversing with the crew, as he pointed towards Sil's office. Walking in, Sil welcomed them with outspread arms.
"Heyyy what's up?" Sil said with a forced grin.
"Sil Frigida? I'm Jamie Galloway with XWF." The female introduced herself, as she extended a hand to Sil. He shook her hand, as well as the cameraman. He welcomed him with his telltale phrase, "What's uuuuuuup brotha?!"
"We just wanted a few words with you ahead of your debut this weekend! Do you mind?"
"Do I ever!?" Sil laughed. "Let's talk!" Sil directed them towards some seats that were on the other side of his desk. He plopped his massive build down into his Tempur-Pedic office chair, as they set up for the interview.
"Haven't done one of these in awhile. Feels like a deposition!"
"Don't worry! We will make you feel right at home."
The camera operator, Dan Johnson set up a tripod with a Nikon D850 mounted to it.
"I'm sure you have plenty to ask. I'm ready whenever you are."
"Yes sir! Are we ready, Mike?"
"Yes ma'am. We are ready in three... two... one."
"XWF fans! Jamie Galloway here with a fresh acquisition to the roster, Sil Frigida! Sil, welcome to the XWF family!"
"Great to be here, Jamie."
"Well it's great to have you with us, Sil. How do you feel about returning to the ring after the long layoff?"
"Y'know... it's just another day in the office. I handle pressure pretty effortlessly... and with the matchup that they gave me I'm guessing that the bookers felt as if they were throwing me into the fire on my first night out."
"Right, and we will cut right to the chase about your match. It's a triple threat no holds barred against two other newcomers! What are your opinions on Slash Hopkins and Sky Edwards?"
"Well... they're just two obstacles on my path of destruction. I'm sure everyone gets into this business with the belief that they are main event material... but, let's be real, I DON'T SEE THAT with either man. Matter of fact, I think I saw Slash Hopkins on Marbach Road this morning geeked out begging for change."
"Well he just happens to be from where we are doing this interview, San Antonio!"
"Yeah, and I have nothing to really say about the guy. He's a bum. Nothing more. Nothing less."
"And how about Sky Edwards? Word got out that he had some choice words to say about you suffering from muscle dysmorphia."
"Hah... it's funny right... because the guy has A LOT to say about other people's issues, yet my PR team was able to get their hands on some very "juicy" information about this Sky Edwards guy." as he said this he glanced down at his desk, before producing a sheet of paper. He shows it to the camera. "This right here... is a mental health report on Sky Edwards. Apparently he's... "out there" in the sense that he's a fuckin' lunatic. So... what? I'm supposed to take the words of a paranoid schizophrenic seriously? Not to mention he calls himself a "Predator", has a personality disorder, and he worships the devil. Can somebody say "creep"? Maybe pop a Thorazine; snuggle into a straight jacket, shut the fuck up, and worry about your own issues Mr. Edwards."
There's a brief pause before Jamie continues.
"What do you feel about him calling you "all show"?"
"All show, huh? Apparently, he didn't do enough research when he decided to babble his bullshit rhetoric. I don’t know if they have the internet in Hell, but I suggest he finds a way to get on Youtube and look up the WARS that I have had in the ring. In the ring... this much power... can KILL SOMEBODY!" he says while flexing his massive bicep.
"Seems like you've done a fair share of research on Sky."
"Unfortunately I gave in and gave this guy the time of day. I was gonna let everything slide, but I see this kid for who he is. A spade. He's going to rely on politics to get him the W. I see it from a mile away. He knows a lot of people here, and he's going to cling onto this belief that he can be saved from this beating that awaits him. He says he's a Ferrari? Well, he’s a Ferrari with a blown transmission. No good! He says I'm a Tahoe? Well, a Tahoe gets the job done, and will stay intact when it crashes. Meanwhile, when a Ferrari crashes, it burns. I will MAUL this little motherfucker, and he will crash and burn fucking with me."
"Well said, Sil! Anything else you'd like to add?"
"Yeah... Sky..." *eyes camera* "You seem to have a fascination for history. Well I have a history lesson for you, Roberto Duran versus Sugar Ray Leonard II. Duran thought he was just gonna come in and outshine Ray like he did the first time, and ended up getting his ass beat until he screamed the words "no mas!" Remember to utter those words to Chaz Bobo when you're paying the price for underestimating Sil Frigida, alright champ? As for you and your satanic cult. You may want to conjure up a poltergeist, throw a mass orgy and douse yourself in goat blood because you're gonna need every fairy tale you worship to save you! IF you plan on sending out an S.O.S of any sort to your Pentagram burning nutjobs... well... I'll just have to introduce each and every one of you to Betsy, right Jamie?"
"...Who's Betsy?"
"That's for "Devil Man" to find out."
04.10.21
1600 Hours
ELITE Nutrition Domicile
San Antonio, Texas
"SHOOOOOOP - AHHHHHH!"