Post by Preecha Kamon on Oct 15, 2017 14:23:50 GMT -6
For the last two years, I have been living in an abandoned church. There aren’t too many people feeling “spiritual” after The Wave. If you give them God, they’ll show you the door. Not that I’m complaining. I’ve long given up on the idea of an afterlife. My mother used to tell me about The Gods; tell me stories about their world as if they lived among men. After so long of never experience such things, you either start thinking that the Gods have abandoned us or they never existed to begin with. Both sound conclusions.
But, I don’t believe in the spirit, I don’t believe in omnipresent beings, and I don’t believe in ghosts. There is being alive and then there is nothingness. But, don’t ask me how it works, I’m no philosopher. Questions like that just give me a headache. What a pain…
All I know is that when people are talking about Death, what they are really talking about is life. Always going on about what they regret, what they leave behind, what they did or didn’t accomplish, what was the point, etcetera. That old guy nonsense. No one cares.
In the church that I have been living in with Armand for the past two or so years, there is a sign that I keep passing on my way to and from the Pastor’s office which I have made my bedroom. It reads, “Life is a gift”. Every time I see it, I spit. They say it is the thought that counts but nobody put any thought into this gift. I hate to sound ungrateful, but I’ll put it simply with a different set of words I’ve read before, “being alive is a crock of shit.”
They only believe it is a gift because they don’t know what else there could be. They remain hopeful, but the terrible thing they don’t want to admit is that if there is nothing after death then this was a cruel waste of time. ‘Death gives life its beauty’, blow me...All the things we suffer through to find out there is no reward…
Just last week, a six foot five, three-hundred and twenty-five pound wave of destruction obliterates me all over the arena. Eight stitches in my head along with a minor concussion and I have little-to-no idea why it happened. Also, my in-ring skills have gotten rusty; wasting too much time on half-witted scum - not training hard enough these days. God damn, I got lazy. Not to mention, I have to keep watch on my own employer from going out and getting himself killed by the rival gangs of Chicago. And on top of all that, I am deaf. I have been deaf most of my life. Though I would have prefered to have been born deaf rather than losing it to some half-pint rotten groin fruit of a racist shitbag. Having the privilege of hearing was all the worst for experiencing it only to lose it.
But, don’t get me wrong. This might sound like a typical high school nihilist jerk off session, all this talk about death and meaninglessness and suffering - masturbatory nonsense - but this isn’t a pity party for me. It is mostly a list of things I am aiming to fix. First, I have to get back into ‘demon-shape’ as my grandfather would have said. He would have been ashamed to have seen me become so slow. I have made a mockery of his style and all that he has taught me...It will not happen again. Today, I had done nothing but train. First on the sandbag, kicking until my legs were sore and then I moved on to the speed bag until my arms wavered. Then after that, I committed to fifty push-ups to punish my limbs for becoming tired so soon. And if I don’t complete fifty push-ups, it becomes fifty squats. If I can’t complete that, fifty pull-ups. It goes on until my body simply can’t move. I laid on the floor until the feeling came back to my limbs and then I went to my room, read “life is a gift”, spat, and then collapse onto my bed. Ending the day with cursing myself for becoming exhausted.
I found myself staring up at the ceiling. A tile ceiling with florescent lights - hardly a bedroom. Usually it was difficult to fall asleep here. Never felt like home, though nowhere has felt like home since I started running. But here, it felt like we were trespassing just until the real owners returned. Though after working my body so hard, I found myself slowly slipping into a daze. A daze that crept up on me so silently that without even realizing it, I was in a different place.
Only with a sudden jolt of awareness did I find I was sitting at a small, round, wooden table in a world of complete white. On my plate was an unidentified fried fish - my mind says salmon - over white rice mixed with peppers; a meal I haven’t had in a long time and had been deeply craving recently. Across the table was a Caesar Salad with grilled shrimp. A fork came down and pierced into the shrimp, held by a hand with nails painted a bright green…
Trinity Hayashi
Hello, Preecha.
Her words were faint, I could hardly hear what she was saying. I imagine this was because I never knew what she sounded like in real life...I once read that the brain can’t make faces in dreams, instead it uses ones you’ve already seen as place holders. I wonder if this was the case for voices too.
I looked on as my heart became weak. My mind was subconsciously reminding me that this can’t be real but the details were so vivid and lifelike that it hurt. She tilted her head and smiled. I looked down and picked at my food with a fork I don’t remember picking up. /Was this lemon here before?/ I sighed.
Trinity Hayashi
Tell me how you’ve been? How is Armand doing?
I looked up and there she still was. She hadn’t disappeared yet; nothing had warped in my unconscious mind. She still had her black rimmed glasses. Her eyes were still bluer than could be believed. Her hair...It was the deep, dark brown I remembered, hanging down to her shoulders - a bang across her forehead. Her lips were thin and pink.
The things you never forget…
Preecha Kamon
It’s...been rough. But there is so much else I’d rather tell you.
Trinity Hayashi
There will be plenty of time later. I just want to talk right now.
There’s that smile again. I looked back down at my plate and the fish was already gone despite not remembering eating any of it. I continued to poke at the rice before putting the fork down and pushing the plate aside. I propped my head up on my knuckles against the temple of my head, my elbow against the table. I stared at her as the thought of this being a dream slowly returned to me.
Trinity Hayashi
Please, don’t get that way, Preecha...Hmmm...What about wrestling? Facing anybody this week?
Preecha Kamon
Why would you want to hear about that? We only have so much time…
She had finished her meal and pushed her plate aside. Crossing her arms onto the table, she leaned in closer to me. My heart sunk even deeper.
Trinity Hayashi
I like hearing about your day.
My eyes shifted to the details in the table. Cracks at the edges, uneven finish, small bits of graffiti - one that reads “Life is a gift”. I resisted the urge to spit. I choose to, instead, give in with a sigh.
Preecha Kamon
There isn’t much to talk about. It’s a go home show, so I get this chance to participate in the main attraction of the upcoming Pay-Per-View and compete for the World Title.
Trinity Hayashi
That’s great! You always deserved to be up on top.
Preecha Kamon
I guess...As of recently, I’m not so sure.
I turned my gaze to the endless white abyss, staring out as if I saw a window to the birds and the clouds. The days of my youth in school, having lost the will to continue my studies after losing my hearing. It started to feel like those days were back.
Preecha Kamon
Is the fire gone?
Trinity Hayashi
Look here, Mister Preecha Kamon.
There was a sound of a slap onto the table which caused the plates to audibly shake. I, for what seemed like the thousandth time, return to look at Trinity. Why couldn’t I look her in the eyes? She had stood up with one hand at her side and the other palm down on the table.
Trinity Hayashi
I refuse to believe that you, a man who overcame adversity and pain, have just given up already! Never in my life have I seen such an endless will to fight through the pain! I watched as you laughed in the face of your terrorizers, your critics, and your rivals! I watched as the doubt slowly faded away from the skeptics who thought a deaf man in your line of work would be doomed! I watched on as you fought through a ring full of men and earn yourself a World title shot before…
Preecha Kamon
It is different now…
She slapped her other hand down on the table and glared at me. Was she angry?
Trinity Hayashi
Bullshit! Things haven’t changed that much that the man with the determination of a nuclear bomb and the precision of a blade just flops down to die! I remember watching on when you finally got the chance to face Wade back in the old days. His world title was on the line but it wasn’t his World title you were after in that Dog Collar match. He mocked Muay Thai, he mocked something so dear to you that you were going to drag him through hell and back just to make him regret it.
Preecha Kamon
If you remember...I lost that match.
Trinity Hayashi
I sure as hell remember that! I remember being in the arena and watching as he hung you over the rope with that collar and attempted to choke you out before the referee stopped the match. But, you know what I also remembered? The look in your eyes. Even when the match was over, you weren’t finished with him. When he asked you if you’d prefer the ref let the match keep going and risk you losing your life, you responded that you were willing to take it that far. Now you are telling me that that person is no longer in you?...
I gripped my fist tight. Why was I getting so angry?
Preecha Kamon
I mean, here I am. I am supposed to be this amazing fighter, right?! I’ve battled with the best of them. I have this hype to live up to but I get knocked out in a blink of an eye by Kevin Bishop and then blindsided by this monster of a man...
I suddenly felt the burning of the stitches. I ran my hand over my head trying to feel for the grooves but I felt moisture instead.
Preecha Kamon
The only people I seem to be able to get the leg up on are street thugs and curtain jerkers! I working myself stupid just trying to get back to where I used to be and at the same time I have to worry about Armand committing suicide by gang violence! And how am I going to be any good to the Guardians for when we finally try to take down The Society?!
My head was in my hands as my frustration continued to rise. I’d never been one for letting it get to me but at the moment, I felt like I had been a false promise up until now. My deafness had been a barrier against me; my silence had become a part of me. I was convinced that it was a strength to hold up against the pressure, to carry it on my own. But being so alone and with no finish line in sight, I had no idea what to do. No man is an island. But sometimes, in the dark, he feels as such. The last time I felt hopeful, Trinity, we stood in the rain and I handed you my umbrella…
When you walked out, I was just watching the storm roll in. It was something I liked to do when the club was too crowded. Watching the rain fall thicken, wondering how intense it would get, I found solace in the power of nature as I always felt a part of it. Powerful winds, darkened clouds, violent claps of thunder, I felt it all as an extension of myself. But, then I saw you, in the rain, lost and frustrated, having just got done tearing Armand a new one. I was no longer a part of the power. I drifted over to you without even thinking about it and held out my umbrella. I didn’t want to see it take you away, as silly as it sounds.
You tried to encourage me to find a different way of living, that Armand was a dangerous man and I should look into a better profession. I knew all that but I told you, with the movements of my hands, not to worry...that I was fine. At that moment I did feel fine. The world was looking up for me. Armand thinks that I fit better in a Post-Wave world and there are parts of me that are, but I miss home just as much as he does. I miss Texas and all we left behind. I miss you, Trinity...I felt a hand at my cheek, turning me until I saw her at my side…
Trinity Hayashi
What happened to you, Preecha?
Preecha Kamon
You died…
She shook her head.
Trinity Hayashi
No, Preecha. You did. This is not the Preecha I know. The Preecha I know has the drive to keep moving past what would kill the will of a normal man. And if it was after The Wave that you lost it, then the man I knew as Preecha died in the fires of the Mexico incident.
Preecha Kamon
We don’t have much time left…
Trinity Hayashi
I know. But don’t let my absence determine how you continue to view life. You have to live for the both of us now. It won’t be easy. It never was. But you have a chance to do what you were always supposed to do: be great and do great things. You deserve that spot and you deserve that title. No one is going to stop you this time. It is up to you to regain that fire and become what I always knew you to be: the very best. You have overcome what others can only imagine. You are the best fighter with the biggest heart and I know you know that. Your mother and your grandfather would be proud with the man you’ve become.
I put my hand on her arm but I felt nothing. I could tell the dream was starting to fade.
Trinity Hayashi
Goodbye Preecha.
Preecha Kamon
There is still so much I want to say…
Trinity Hayashi
I know.
Before I could say another word, the white abyss was swallowed up by swift blackness, taking bit by bit in violent swipes until I could see nothing - cold, dark, nothing. For a moment I thought maybe this was death but after a moment, I gained the will to open my eyes and as soon as I did, there was the tile ceiling and fluorescent lights. I turned my head and saw out the window that the sun was just clearing over the sea of buildings in the Chicago skyline, I had slept through the night for the first time in a long time. I hoped the city didn’t burn down without me.
I gripped at my heart. How can a dream give me so much balance and yet so much grief. My mind betrayed me in giving me the one thing I could want, only to take it away upon awakening. Et tu, Brute?
After a moment of mourning, I eventually motivated myself to get out of bed. It took a bit of struggling but I used the lingering effect of the dream illusion of Trinity to convince myself that if I just laid there in my own pity, I would die and her words will have been a waste. Now, don’t misunderstand, I don’t think it was any sort of ghost trying to communicate with me. As I said, I am far from a spiritual person. I am well aware that it was my strongly willed desires that conjured her into being. Though, it is weird how a dream can affect you so. Even the silence that surrounds me everyday had a weird feeling after, even if it was only so slightly, hearing any sort of noises in the spectral world of dream.
Slowly, I made my way down the hall, ‘Life is a gift’, spat, and entered into what was once the main lobby of the building. I continued on into the sanctuary where I saw Armand at the altar, pacing back and forth in a blaze of anger, screaming obscenities that I couldn’t hear but I could make out well enough. I didn’t need to ask to find out what he was so mad about. The Hacker had kept to her word about the amount of time he should spend on the Russian servers and developed a protocol that locked him out after a certain amount of time. Armand had been spending the last week trying to figure out how to get around it but since he is far from a computer genius, there has been no luck.
Which is fine by me. I didn’t need him alerting the Russians, again, to our presence and leading them right to this spot. For now, I didn’t have to worry about Armand getting himself killed. Eventually he would work himself into a cloud of fury then get tired and resign himself to the baptizing chamber for a bath and then lay in front of the TV for a bit. I could spend my time getting back to my training. I travelled around the sanctuary and through a door on the far left that led down a staircase into a cold concrete basement where I had erected my own personal, makeshift gym from scavenged pieces I found around more abandoned areas in the Second City.
My muscles were still sore and limp from the previous day but I wasn’t going to give way until I woke up numb to the pain. Just like Trinity said, I am going to reach where I was supposed to be all along. All I had to do was get through this qualifying match. To do that, I had to be ready for what awaited me.
Again, I went to the sandbag. The first kick was a rough one as I almost lost my balance with my muscles groaning at the center of my knee to the bottom of my shins. But, I steadied myself and went for it again. After a couple more kicks, the pain of my muscles began to fade as they warmed up.
So, this match is the gateway to the infamous Killing Floor. I am basically fighting for my right to kill myself on live television. Any you know what? I am kind of excited. It has been a while since I have really put my body on the line, and for a World title, no less. All I have to do is bust through two competitors to do it.
A high round house from the right followed by a low sweep kick from the left. In comes a front teep with a strong jumping transition into a knee at the side as the bag swung back. Then a roaring elbow into a spinning backfist.
Easier said than done, I imagine. Two competitors, even if they can’t match me in striking or speed, is not something to take lightly. Shadowlove alone is quite the competitor even if I do find him unreasonably flashy and self-assured. To be honest, if he ever decided it was time to get down to business and stop with the nonsense, he would be a top guy over night. I’ve seen the man compete and it can be a spectacle when he isn’t trying to make it a ~Spectacle~. His performance in WAR representing UCI along with a few others was inspirational to say the least, definitely seems as if UCI has grown quite a bit since it started.
A right punch, and another and another, then a left. Mid-section kicks, to the left then the right. A backspin kick high up to the top of the bag.
But you best believe that after he skipped out on our last match that I am ready to go up against him. He thinks he is so technically gifted, that I am the one out of place in the ring but what he doesn’t realize is his area of ‘expertise’ is a danger zone for him. People underestimate a Kickboxer when grappling but what they don’t realize is, even though it isn’t as flashy or wide as a wrestler’s repertoire, Muay Thai has a bit of a grappling style and if he gets locked up with me, he isn’t going to have the advantage he thinks he does.
In fact, the first sign of him trying lock up with me, I am going to bust that underwear model nose of his and send him spinning out of the ring. That is a goddamn promise. Consider it punishment for chickening out on me the first time. This might not be the Tar and Feathers match we promised each other but it will have to do for now until the time comes where we can go one and one and officially settle the score Shadowlove-san...
I stepped away from the sandbag as I felt the muscles in my legs start to burn. I walked over to a dark corner of the basement and grabbed a big rubber tire and a sledgehammer. I rolled the tire into the center of the room, laid it flat on the ground. Picking up the hammer, I brought it over my head and the down right onto the tire; repeating in quick successions, over and over. I couldn’t hear it but I could feel the pulse of the impact on the occasions when the hammer would hit the inside of the tire and make contact with the floor, sending a shock of reverberation into my arms.
But, Shadowlove isn’t even literally the biggest threat of the match. There is still this behemoth of a man, Corey Bull. In a way, he is the Gatekeeper to my way into Killingfloor. Others might consider it that he would have no motivation to put too much energy into this match and save it for the Killing Floor since his spot is on the line but that would be doing him a disservice. As any real competitor would see it, the less competitors in the match, the better. He has the chance right now to keep the number low. Another person in the match is another dagger to watch out for. He could very well phone it in this week with no harm to his vantage and save his energy for the real event; that is a legit strategy in itself. But, if I were him, not only would I want to keep the numbers low but I wouldn’t want to take that kind of strike to my vanity.
Three...two...one...I tossed the hammer down and moved into jumping jacks for fifteen seconds. Following that, I picked the sledgehammer backup and started pounding away at the tire again from the other side.
Killing Floor is unique to most other events in UCI. It is a badge of honor to be a part of. To deserve to be in it alone is something to be proud of. If, in the match before, he takes a loss out of laziness, anything short of taking the World Title would be a marred piece of his legacy and pride.
Now, maybe I should be worried by such a big man but he isn’t the first giant I have faced and taken down. In fact, he will be good practice for the next monster I take down. Even though Corey Bull might not be the psychopathic bulldozer that Oblivion is, he is a vicious sort of man altogether. He has seen some shit and I give him all the props in the world as he seems to be one of the few that means to get down to business and in the Killing Floor cage it might be more his domain than mine, this week he is fighting in my territory: straightforward, hand to hand competition. Sure, in a Mixed Martial Arts bout, they would never think of putting the two of us in the same match for obvious reasons, that is why I’m not working in the UFC and prefer wrestling. They don’t care about your weight or stature. You fight who you can fight and if you can’t, then you are done in by your own limitations. But, there won’t be any limitations here. Corey Bull will fall to me.
I throw the hammer to the side and felt as my arms basically turned into noodles. Here it comes again, that feeling of self-defeat. I’m not going to let myself grow weak! I go down to the floor. It is one hundred push-ups, and if not that, one hundred squats, and if not that, one hundred sit-ups, and forever on until I can’t move. One...Two...Three…
And not to mention I have more than the World Title to motivate me. There is a possibility that Oblivion might win his way into the match. As much as I consider Damien Kaine a friend and an ally, I need Oblivion to be in this match. I will get my revenge for what he did to me. I am done lying down and taking what life gives me. I am tired of dealing with all this suffering for no reason. Oblivion fucked up when he decided I would be the target of his obscene rampage. Of all the people he picked, he picked the one person who was going to give it back tenfold and Killing Floor is the exact place to do it. No rules, no surprise, all the mayhem in the world and just the brute force of your endurance to carry you along!
I felt rivers of sweat drip off my body and hit the ground, creating a small pool that slowly soaked into the grey concrete. Instead of pain, it was satisfaction that surged through my body. The effort was real, the drive was real. I was going to succeed! I was going to succeed for you, Trinity.
Everyone would like to believe it was there time, but this time...I could feel it. Preecha Kamon will rise like a phoenix. All that has been taken from me, my hearing, my family, my home, my life, will be the power in my fists. No one will stop me. Not my comrades, not my rivals, not the monsters, not the essence of life that has been fighting against me since the moment I was born. This week, Preecha Kamon wins his way into the Killing Floor. At Killing Floor, Preecha Kamon becomes world champion!
ninety-seven...ninety-eight...ninety-nine...One hundred.
But, I don’t believe in the spirit, I don’t believe in omnipresent beings, and I don’t believe in ghosts. There is being alive and then there is nothingness. But, don’t ask me how it works, I’m no philosopher. Questions like that just give me a headache. What a pain…
All I know is that when people are talking about Death, what they are really talking about is life. Always going on about what they regret, what they leave behind, what they did or didn’t accomplish, what was the point, etcetera. That old guy nonsense. No one cares.
In the church that I have been living in with Armand for the past two or so years, there is a sign that I keep passing on my way to and from the Pastor’s office which I have made my bedroom. It reads, “Life is a gift”. Every time I see it, I spit. They say it is the thought that counts but nobody put any thought into this gift. I hate to sound ungrateful, but I’ll put it simply with a different set of words I’ve read before, “being alive is a crock of shit.”
They only believe it is a gift because they don’t know what else there could be. They remain hopeful, but the terrible thing they don’t want to admit is that if there is nothing after death then this was a cruel waste of time. ‘Death gives life its beauty’, blow me...All the things we suffer through to find out there is no reward…
Just last week, a six foot five, three-hundred and twenty-five pound wave of destruction obliterates me all over the arena. Eight stitches in my head along with a minor concussion and I have little-to-no idea why it happened. Also, my in-ring skills have gotten rusty; wasting too much time on half-witted scum - not training hard enough these days. God damn, I got lazy. Not to mention, I have to keep watch on my own employer from going out and getting himself killed by the rival gangs of Chicago. And on top of all that, I am deaf. I have been deaf most of my life. Though I would have prefered to have been born deaf rather than losing it to some half-pint rotten groin fruit of a racist shitbag. Having the privilege of hearing was all the worst for experiencing it only to lose it.
But, don’t get me wrong. This might sound like a typical high school nihilist jerk off session, all this talk about death and meaninglessness and suffering - masturbatory nonsense - but this isn’t a pity party for me. It is mostly a list of things I am aiming to fix. First, I have to get back into ‘demon-shape’ as my grandfather would have said. He would have been ashamed to have seen me become so slow. I have made a mockery of his style and all that he has taught me...It will not happen again. Today, I had done nothing but train. First on the sandbag, kicking until my legs were sore and then I moved on to the speed bag until my arms wavered. Then after that, I committed to fifty push-ups to punish my limbs for becoming tired so soon. And if I don’t complete fifty push-ups, it becomes fifty squats. If I can’t complete that, fifty pull-ups. It goes on until my body simply can’t move. I laid on the floor until the feeling came back to my limbs and then I went to my room, read “life is a gift”, spat, and then collapse onto my bed. Ending the day with cursing myself for becoming exhausted.
I found myself staring up at the ceiling. A tile ceiling with florescent lights - hardly a bedroom. Usually it was difficult to fall asleep here. Never felt like home, though nowhere has felt like home since I started running. But here, it felt like we were trespassing just until the real owners returned. Though after working my body so hard, I found myself slowly slipping into a daze. A daze that crept up on me so silently that without even realizing it, I was in a different place.
Only with a sudden jolt of awareness did I find I was sitting at a small, round, wooden table in a world of complete white. On my plate was an unidentified fried fish - my mind says salmon - over white rice mixed with peppers; a meal I haven’t had in a long time and had been deeply craving recently. Across the table was a Caesar Salad with grilled shrimp. A fork came down and pierced into the shrimp, held by a hand with nails painted a bright green…
Trinity Hayashi
Hello, Preecha.
Her words were faint, I could hardly hear what she was saying. I imagine this was because I never knew what she sounded like in real life...I once read that the brain can’t make faces in dreams, instead it uses ones you’ve already seen as place holders. I wonder if this was the case for voices too.
I looked on as my heart became weak. My mind was subconsciously reminding me that this can’t be real but the details were so vivid and lifelike that it hurt. She tilted her head and smiled. I looked down and picked at my food with a fork I don’t remember picking up. /Was this lemon here before?/ I sighed.
Trinity Hayashi
Tell me how you’ve been? How is Armand doing?
I looked up and there she still was. She hadn’t disappeared yet; nothing had warped in my unconscious mind. She still had her black rimmed glasses. Her eyes were still bluer than could be believed. Her hair...It was the deep, dark brown I remembered, hanging down to her shoulders - a bang across her forehead. Her lips were thin and pink.
The things you never forget…
Preecha Kamon
It’s...been rough. But there is so much else I’d rather tell you.
Trinity Hayashi
There will be plenty of time later. I just want to talk right now.
There’s that smile again. I looked back down at my plate and the fish was already gone despite not remembering eating any of it. I continued to poke at the rice before putting the fork down and pushing the plate aside. I propped my head up on my knuckles against the temple of my head, my elbow against the table. I stared at her as the thought of this being a dream slowly returned to me.
Trinity Hayashi
Please, don’t get that way, Preecha...Hmmm...What about wrestling? Facing anybody this week?
Preecha Kamon
Why would you want to hear about that? We only have so much time…
She had finished her meal and pushed her plate aside. Crossing her arms onto the table, she leaned in closer to me. My heart sunk even deeper.
Trinity Hayashi
I like hearing about your day.
My eyes shifted to the details in the table. Cracks at the edges, uneven finish, small bits of graffiti - one that reads “Life is a gift”. I resisted the urge to spit. I choose to, instead, give in with a sigh.
Preecha Kamon
There isn’t much to talk about. It’s a go home show, so I get this chance to participate in the main attraction of the upcoming Pay-Per-View and compete for the World Title.
Trinity Hayashi
That’s great! You always deserved to be up on top.
Preecha Kamon
I guess...As of recently, I’m not so sure.
I turned my gaze to the endless white abyss, staring out as if I saw a window to the birds and the clouds. The days of my youth in school, having lost the will to continue my studies after losing my hearing. It started to feel like those days were back.
Preecha Kamon
Is the fire gone?
Trinity Hayashi
Look here, Mister Preecha Kamon.
There was a sound of a slap onto the table which caused the plates to audibly shake. I, for what seemed like the thousandth time, return to look at Trinity. Why couldn’t I look her in the eyes? She had stood up with one hand at her side and the other palm down on the table.
Trinity Hayashi
I refuse to believe that you, a man who overcame adversity and pain, have just given up already! Never in my life have I seen such an endless will to fight through the pain! I watched as you laughed in the face of your terrorizers, your critics, and your rivals! I watched as the doubt slowly faded away from the skeptics who thought a deaf man in your line of work would be doomed! I watched on as you fought through a ring full of men and earn yourself a World title shot before…
Preecha Kamon
It is different now…
She slapped her other hand down on the table and glared at me. Was she angry?
Trinity Hayashi
Bullshit! Things haven’t changed that much that the man with the determination of a nuclear bomb and the precision of a blade just flops down to die! I remember watching on when you finally got the chance to face Wade back in the old days. His world title was on the line but it wasn’t his World title you were after in that Dog Collar match. He mocked Muay Thai, he mocked something so dear to you that you were going to drag him through hell and back just to make him regret it.
Preecha Kamon
If you remember...I lost that match.
Trinity Hayashi
I sure as hell remember that! I remember being in the arena and watching as he hung you over the rope with that collar and attempted to choke you out before the referee stopped the match. But, you know what I also remembered? The look in your eyes. Even when the match was over, you weren’t finished with him. When he asked you if you’d prefer the ref let the match keep going and risk you losing your life, you responded that you were willing to take it that far. Now you are telling me that that person is no longer in you?...
I gripped my fist tight. Why was I getting so angry?
Preecha Kamon
I mean, here I am. I am supposed to be this amazing fighter, right?! I’ve battled with the best of them. I have this hype to live up to but I get knocked out in a blink of an eye by Kevin Bishop and then blindsided by this monster of a man...
I suddenly felt the burning of the stitches. I ran my hand over my head trying to feel for the grooves but I felt moisture instead.
Preecha Kamon
The only people I seem to be able to get the leg up on are street thugs and curtain jerkers! I working myself stupid just trying to get back to where I used to be and at the same time I have to worry about Armand committing suicide by gang violence! And how am I going to be any good to the Guardians for when we finally try to take down The Society?!
My head was in my hands as my frustration continued to rise. I’d never been one for letting it get to me but at the moment, I felt like I had been a false promise up until now. My deafness had been a barrier against me; my silence had become a part of me. I was convinced that it was a strength to hold up against the pressure, to carry it on my own. But being so alone and with no finish line in sight, I had no idea what to do. No man is an island. But sometimes, in the dark, he feels as such. The last time I felt hopeful, Trinity, we stood in the rain and I handed you my umbrella…
When you walked out, I was just watching the storm roll in. It was something I liked to do when the club was too crowded. Watching the rain fall thicken, wondering how intense it would get, I found solace in the power of nature as I always felt a part of it. Powerful winds, darkened clouds, violent claps of thunder, I felt it all as an extension of myself. But, then I saw you, in the rain, lost and frustrated, having just got done tearing Armand a new one. I was no longer a part of the power. I drifted over to you without even thinking about it and held out my umbrella. I didn’t want to see it take you away, as silly as it sounds.
You tried to encourage me to find a different way of living, that Armand was a dangerous man and I should look into a better profession. I knew all that but I told you, with the movements of my hands, not to worry...that I was fine. At that moment I did feel fine. The world was looking up for me. Armand thinks that I fit better in a Post-Wave world and there are parts of me that are, but I miss home just as much as he does. I miss Texas and all we left behind. I miss you, Trinity...I felt a hand at my cheek, turning me until I saw her at my side…
Trinity Hayashi
What happened to you, Preecha?
Preecha Kamon
You died…
She shook her head.
Trinity Hayashi
No, Preecha. You did. This is not the Preecha I know. The Preecha I know has the drive to keep moving past what would kill the will of a normal man. And if it was after The Wave that you lost it, then the man I knew as Preecha died in the fires of the Mexico incident.
Preecha Kamon
We don’t have much time left…
Trinity Hayashi
I know. But don’t let my absence determine how you continue to view life. You have to live for the both of us now. It won’t be easy. It never was. But you have a chance to do what you were always supposed to do: be great and do great things. You deserve that spot and you deserve that title. No one is going to stop you this time. It is up to you to regain that fire and become what I always knew you to be: the very best. You have overcome what others can only imagine. You are the best fighter with the biggest heart and I know you know that. Your mother and your grandfather would be proud with the man you’ve become.
I put my hand on her arm but I felt nothing. I could tell the dream was starting to fade.
Trinity Hayashi
Goodbye Preecha.
Preecha Kamon
There is still so much I want to say…
Trinity Hayashi
I know.
Before I could say another word, the white abyss was swallowed up by swift blackness, taking bit by bit in violent swipes until I could see nothing - cold, dark, nothing. For a moment I thought maybe this was death but after a moment, I gained the will to open my eyes and as soon as I did, there was the tile ceiling and fluorescent lights. I turned my head and saw out the window that the sun was just clearing over the sea of buildings in the Chicago skyline, I had slept through the night for the first time in a long time. I hoped the city didn’t burn down without me.
I gripped at my heart. How can a dream give me so much balance and yet so much grief. My mind betrayed me in giving me the one thing I could want, only to take it away upon awakening. Et tu, Brute?
After a moment of mourning, I eventually motivated myself to get out of bed. It took a bit of struggling but I used the lingering effect of the dream illusion of Trinity to convince myself that if I just laid there in my own pity, I would die and her words will have been a waste. Now, don’t misunderstand, I don’t think it was any sort of ghost trying to communicate with me. As I said, I am far from a spiritual person. I am well aware that it was my strongly willed desires that conjured her into being. Though, it is weird how a dream can affect you so. Even the silence that surrounds me everyday had a weird feeling after, even if it was only so slightly, hearing any sort of noises in the spectral world of dream.
Slowly, I made my way down the hall, ‘Life is a gift’, spat, and entered into what was once the main lobby of the building. I continued on into the sanctuary where I saw Armand at the altar, pacing back and forth in a blaze of anger, screaming obscenities that I couldn’t hear but I could make out well enough. I didn’t need to ask to find out what he was so mad about. The Hacker had kept to her word about the amount of time he should spend on the Russian servers and developed a protocol that locked him out after a certain amount of time. Armand had been spending the last week trying to figure out how to get around it but since he is far from a computer genius, there has been no luck.
Which is fine by me. I didn’t need him alerting the Russians, again, to our presence and leading them right to this spot. For now, I didn’t have to worry about Armand getting himself killed. Eventually he would work himself into a cloud of fury then get tired and resign himself to the baptizing chamber for a bath and then lay in front of the TV for a bit. I could spend my time getting back to my training. I travelled around the sanctuary and through a door on the far left that led down a staircase into a cold concrete basement where I had erected my own personal, makeshift gym from scavenged pieces I found around more abandoned areas in the Second City.
My muscles were still sore and limp from the previous day but I wasn’t going to give way until I woke up numb to the pain. Just like Trinity said, I am going to reach where I was supposed to be all along. All I had to do was get through this qualifying match. To do that, I had to be ready for what awaited me.
Again, I went to the sandbag. The first kick was a rough one as I almost lost my balance with my muscles groaning at the center of my knee to the bottom of my shins. But, I steadied myself and went for it again. After a couple more kicks, the pain of my muscles began to fade as they warmed up.
So, this match is the gateway to the infamous Killing Floor. I am basically fighting for my right to kill myself on live television. Any you know what? I am kind of excited. It has been a while since I have really put my body on the line, and for a World title, no less. All I have to do is bust through two competitors to do it.
A high round house from the right followed by a low sweep kick from the left. In comes a front teep with a strong jumping transition into a knee at the side as the bag swung back. Then a roaring elbow into a spinning backfist.
Easier said than done, I imagine. Two competitors, even if they can’t match me in striking or speed, is not something to take lightly. Shadowlove alone is quite the competitor even if I do find him unreasonably flashy and self-assured. To be honest, if he ever decided it was time to get down to business and stop with the nonsense, he would be a top guy over night. I’ve seen the man compete and it can be a spectacle when he isn’t trying to make it a ~Spectacle~. His performance in WAR representing UCI along with a few others was inspirational to say the least, definitely seems as if UCI has grown quite a bit since it started.
A right punch, and another and another, then a left. Mid-section kicks, to the left then the right. A backspin kick high up to the top of the bag.
But you best believe that after he skipped out on our last match that I am ready to go up against him. He thinks he is so technically gifted, that I am the one out of place in the ring but what he doesn’t realize is his area of ‘expertise’ is a danger zone for him. People underestimate a Kickboxer when grappling but what they don’t realize is, even though it isn’t as flashy or wide as a wrestler’s repertoire, Muay Thai has a bit of a grappling style and if he gets locked up with me, he isn’t going to have the advantage he thinks he does.
In fact, the first sign of him trying lock up with me, I am going to bust that underwear model nose of his and send him spinning out of the ring. That is a goddamn promise. Consider it punishment for chickening out on me the first time. This might not be the Tar and Feathers match we promised each other but it will have to do for now until the time comes where we can go one and one and officially settle the score Shadowlove-san...
I stepped away from the sandbag as I felt the muscles in my legs start to burn. I walked over to a dark corner of the basement and grabbed a big rubber tire and a sledgehammer. I rolled the tire into the center of the room, laid it flat on the ground. Picking up the hammer, I brought it over my head and the down right onto the tire; repeating in quick successions, over and over. I couldn’t hear it but I could feel the pulse of the impact on the occasions when the hammer would hit the inside of the tire and make contact with the floor, sending a shock of reverberation into my arms.
But, Shadowlove isn’t even literally the biggest threat of the match. There is still this behemoth of a man, Corey Bull. In a way, he is the Gatekeeper to my way into Killingfloor. Others might consider it that he would have no motivation to put too much energy into this match and save it for the Killing Floor since his spot is on the line but that would be doing him a disservice. As any real competitor would see it, the less competitors in the match, the better. He has the chance right now to keep the number low. Another person in the match is another dagger to watch out for. He could very well phone it in this week with no harm to his vantage and save his energy for the real event; that is a legit strategy in itself. But, if I were him, not only would I want to keep the numbers low but I wouldn’t want to take that kind of strike to my vanity.
Three...two...one...I tossed the hammer down and moved into jumping jacks for fifteen seconds. Following that, I picked the sledgehammer backup and started pounding away at the tire again from the other side.
Killing Floor is unique to most other events in UCI. It is a badge of honor to be a part of. To deserve to be in it alone is something to be proud of. If, in the match before, he takes a loss out of laziness, anything short of taking the World Title would be a marred piece of his legacy and pride.
Now, maybe I should be worried by such a big man but he isn’t the first giant I have faced and taken down. In fact, he will be good practice for the next monster I take down. Even though Corey Bull might not be the psychopathic bulldozer that Oblivion is, he is a vicious sort of man altogether. He has seen some shit and I give him all the props in the world as he seems to be one of the few that means to get down to business and in the Killing Floor cage it might be more his domain than mine, this week he is fighting in my territory: straightforward, hand to hand competition. Sure, in a Mixed Martial Arts bout, they would never think of putting the two of us in the same match for obvious reasons, that is why I’m not working in the UFC and prefer wrestling. They don’t care about your weight or stature. You fight who you can fight and if you can’t, then you are done in by your own limitations. But, there won’t be any limitations here. Corey Bull will fall to me.
I throw the hammer to the side and felt as my arms basically turned into noodles. Here it comes again, that feeling of self-defeat. I’m not going to let myself grow weak! I go down to the floor. It is one hundred push-ups, and if not that, one hundred squats, and if not that, one hundred sit-ups, and forever on until I can’t move. One...Two...Three…
And not to mention I have more than the World Title to motivate me. There is a possibility that Oblivion might win his way into the match. As much as I consider Damien Kaine a friend and an ally, I need Oblivion to be in this match. I will get my revenge for what he did to me. I am done lying down and taking what life gives me. I am tired of dealing with all this suffering for no reason. Oblivion fucked up when he decided I would be the target of his obscene rampage. Of all the people he picked, he picked the one person who was going to give it back tenfold and Killing Floor is the exact place to do it. No rules, no surprise, all the mayhem in the world and just the brute force of your endurance to carry you along!
I felt rivers of sweat drip off my body and hit the ground, creating a small pool that slowly soaked into the grey concrete. Instead of pain, it was satisfaction that surged through my body. The effort was real, the drive was real. I was going to succeed! I was going to succeed for you, Trinity.
Everyone would like to believe it was there time, but this time...I could feel it. Preecha Kamon will rise like a phoenix. All that has been taken from me, my hearing, my family, my home, my life, will be the power in my fists. No one will stop me. Not my comrades, not my rivals, not the monsters, not the essence of life that has been fighting against me since the moment I was born. This week, Preecha Kamon wins his way into the Killing Floor. At Killing Floor, Preecha Kamon becomes world champion!
ninety-seven...ninety-eight...ninety-nine...One hundred.
