The punching bag rocked heavily under the impact of Hans's fist, the chains holding it up staying strong as the bag swayed in the air, rocked back by the force of Hans's fists raining down upon it. Every stinging jab, every hard-landed blow, each one more violent and uncontained then the rest.
Oh yeah, he was pissed.
First that Ronnie McNeil punk thought he could show off against him and catch a couple of good shots in, acting like he'd take him out in a few seconds. Problem was the little piss-ant did take him out fast. So Hans lost and the underachiever kicks shit all over his reputation, so what? By now, it really didn't matter...so many people had already that he'd given up caring, and rather did all he could to beat someone's ass. He was struggling to reclaim his fallen legacy, and it really wasn't working.
And now the little bastards up top thought it'd be funny to stick him in a match against the same boy who took down the champ and humbled him in front of all of his people. The little bugger that showed the world David could still kick Goliath square in the balls.
"Shit, I hope the kid has enough dough for the medical bills I'll be wracking up on'm..." growled Hans, who shook his head--he'd heard stories of poor bastards who had to stay messed up from fights simply because they couldn't afford to fix themselves up...but then again, after what Ronnie did to him, maybe it was better that way.
He could get his revenge for the little f*cker taking his spotlight away and sending him spiraling down, that was for sure.
Finally, the ever-constant rain of punches upon the heavy bag had stopped, allowing it's rocking to slow to a halt after a few moments. Hans's fists were stinging from the punches he'd delivered, but he simply blocked it out. He stepped over to the bench and lifted his towel from it to wipe the sweat from his body, beads of perspiration dripping down his face, arms, chest and back. He had been training for God knows how long now, and had decided to finish it off by letting his frustrations out. It was a good workout, definitely let out the anger he'd needed to release, but the frustration still remained.
And the frustration was what caused the problem in the first place.
Hans tried his best to focus his mind on something else; something to ignore the frustration still dwelling within him like a serpent waiting to strike. He went through everything he could think of, from life on the outside to life on the inside in his constant attempts at blocking that frustration. When that wouldn't work, he'd think about the fear he used to put into people's hearts during his prime, all the faces he'd bashed in just to prove he was the best...but memories of his current self swept in to take out the better times and replace them with shame.
Inevitably, all of his attempts at such a thing were for none. He just couldn't do it; the frustration seemed to respond to being ignored by building itself stronger, until a point where Hans had a metaphorical dam built within his body about ready to break under the pressure. No matter how hard he'd tried throughout the day, the frustration refused to release itself from its ever-constant battering on his mind. His chest felt tight and his abdomen tighter from the stress it was forcing upon him.
"Yo 'Hans!" called forth a voice from across the room, a voice belonging to a person who was blissfully unaware of the reasons for Hans's stress--much less the fact that he was under stress to begin with. "You ready to put the asshole to shame? We think ya' finally got'm beat this time, ya' know what to expect so he won't whip ya' ass pilla' ta' post like the first time, right?"
Hans turned slowly, glaring directly into the man's eyes as suddenly he felt himself breaking under the pressure of his glare. The man glanced about nervously, looking over at the very-much pissed off Hans von Richtoven. He let out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his head.
"So I take that as a yes then, man?" he said meekly.
"Get the f*ck out of here, and tell the b*tch I'm about ready to break his f*cking face in." Hans said coldly, his voice dripping with malice and anger. The dam had broken from the pressure, and this guy in front of him stood with the very sledge hammer that helped break it inside his mouth. Had he kept that mouth of his shut, then maybe his tongue wouldn't have brought forth the verbal hammer. And had that verbal hammer not been brought forth upon Hans, perhaps this ‘asshole’ wouldn't get the thrashing of a life-time.
The guy scampered out of the room to the others as Hans finished wiping the sweat from his body, staring down at the ground. He didn't want to break the guy or anything--he wanted to murder him. The kid'll be lucky if he can move in the morning, that's for sure.
And in Hans's mind, there was another thing that would be made certain leading into the fight and coming out of the fight. A certainty that this was it--that today he would finally turn things around and set things straight for himself, and re-arrange his face for good.
He wanted to end Ronnie McNeil’s career, not just beat him--and he'd be damn sure to do just that.
The chirping of the birds in the daylight sun was all that could be heard throughout the park. The place was very, very green and very, very flower garden-esque. Green grass and trees, flowers and bushes all over the place, shrubbery surrounding a playground with a sidewalk leading throughout the area. It was a massive park, and on this day was a very nice place to take a walk through.
Of course, it was also a nice place to think to yourself.
On this day, with the sun beating upon his covered back, Ronnie had decided to go for a walk. The park had attracted his attention due to the serenity of it all--serenity he figured would be best achieved leading into his 'major rematch' coming up. He had been happier then ever after proving AC wrong, and then giving the fans exactly what they deserved no more than a week later. He was able to spend more time with Toya on his week off too, which was always something that he preferred. He had been doing a lot of thinking regarding he lately...she really was the biggest thing on his mind. He had something in store to surprise her with by year's end, but he wasn't sure if it was too soon or not...he needing the advice and the help of a dear friend of his, and the guidance of a man who'd helped him all throughout his life. However, even with all of this on his mind, he still had that match at the Other Side...against a man he'd beaten just a few weeks ago—Hans von Richtoven.
This...of course...was what he needed to think upon.
"Round three..." Ronnie muttered, a frown on his features, "Wonder what the higher-ups in the HWA are thinking. I beat Hans and took one title off of him, I beat him a few weeks ago as the world champ, and now his little lottery has finally pulled my name out of the hopper. Do they really believe he can dent my streak right now, in the heat of all I've been through here? There's no-one in the HWA that's been able to stop me yet...my dreams are coming true now, and these guys think that Hans can make his legacy off of me. Classic."
Ronnie kicked a small rock down the sidewalk, sighing softly. The sun tried it's best to bring a smile upon his features, warming his body but not beating down on him too hard. The clouds watched as their leader did his best to inspire Ronnie to bring his mind to ease, but all for vain--for Ronnie was far too bitterly bemused with his opponent selection for this week.
"I mean...he really didn’t want to see my name come out of that hopper. Hell I didn’t think my name was actually in there...haha"
Blissfully unaware was he who did not know the heaven's intent. Ronnie wiped the sweat from his brow and watched a few birds fly through the trees, chasing one another in some sort of a game. At least, this was what it appeared to be. It could be noted that they were fighting over food just as well, but this did not play much into Ronnie's thought pattern. He was far too focused on the upcoming events at hand, events that he was actually quite reluctant to participate in.
"I hate to sound cocky or arrogant but...the man is nothing more then a shadow of a champion. Hell, maybe this PPV I'll even be able to make him see that, and finally admit the truth."
Ronnie ran his fingers through his hair, sighing and shaking his head softly. This was very frustrating, because this has been a long time coming….two years since he’d last had a shot at the gold--but if they thought that this was what it took to make me see the light and become what they thought I should be, then they would be sadly mistaken.
Ronnie smiled a little, the thought amusing him enough to prompt the expression. Ronnie of course did not mean these thoughts, for he really wasn't the type of guy to kick someone when they're down (metaphorically speaking, of course). However, with the way Hans acted all smug and condescending towards him...Ronnie might break his own moral code just to give the cheeky little bastard a wakeup call. It was disappointing, really, because so many people held high expectations for the guy when he was champ...and he was letting them all down.
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