Not So Jolly Christmas

Clyde felt like hell.

He had been beaten, humiliated and Injured by The Thorns of a Rose in that 3 on 1 Handicap match orchestrated by Tension GM, Melissa Sellers. (Not too mention that Emi stole his fucking Hat!!!) He had been ambushed by Killer King's crew during the battle royal, effectively costing him his chances at winning a #1 contenders shot, getting eliminated by Poison, the woman who had assaulted his sister Bonnie at the behest of Allison Watson. Bonnie and Clyde's most hated enemy, whom they failed fighting against. Though Clyde managed to prevent Poison from winning the Battle Royal, one fact remained.

His body was hurting, his career life was a living hell, he had been horribly humiliated in front of millions... And none of it compared to losing Mercy Wrenn. The woman he loved.

Clyde checked his phone for what felt like the hundredth time. Nothing. The volume was at max and any time he managed to even get a text message, he always hurriedly pulled it out of his pocket in hopes that it would be Mercy. But it never was. He'd sigh and put away the phone, taking a deep breath. Telling himself time and time again to get over this chick, to just move on already. She was done with him and he was wasting his time mulling over this haughty, needy, loud, uptight pink haired babe that he couldn't get his mind off of.

He was alone in the city of Kyoto, mulling over his confusing life at the top of a river bank with a can of Yebisu beer, clad in a suit, tie, slacks and loafers. He wasn't getting drunk, he had already sat at a bar for hours, staring at a shot of whiskey that left behind untouched, unable to get Mercy out of his head and what she would say now.

"Bahh!!!" He growled and hurled the can away. "Who the hell cares if I start drinkin' again!?" She was gone anyway. "And why the hell am I wearin' this suit!?" There was no need for it and he was still going on like Mercy never left him. The drinking, the choice of clothing. His whole lifestyle significantly cleaner thanks to Mercy.

He knew he was hung up on her and He saw that as weakness. It angered him. He already felt weak enough as it was, knowing he couldn't get over someone who was tired of him made him feel so weak. He hated it. But he didn't want to forget her for even a moment. The breakup hurt. It sucked. But she was a good memory.

He sighed heavily. "...I love this town..." he mumbled he stared at the evening sky and the city lights before he stood up. He needed some rest, some air. A friend to talk to even. But who? Names flashed across his mind, a couple but very few in Kyoto, hardly any... Except...

"Carmen." He said aloud before making his way back to the street and hailing for a taxi. Carmen told him to stop by on a weekened at this gym near the arena, well it wasn't the weekend, but he had to try.

So the cowboy pulled up to the gym after paying the cab fare, strolling into the gym, the sun long gone behind him. He didn't say a word as he went inside, not really knowing where to go, other than simply trying to locate someone that could probably direct him to Carmen.

Army felt like hell.

The weather was a part of it. At first, he liked the snow. When the first few flakes started to fall, they surprised the hell out of him. Snow was almost like this mythical thing in Puerto Rico. Sure, he'd heard about it before. Seen it in movies, read about it, stumbled on it a few times on the internet, but none of that came close to actually experiencing the stuff. As it fell and fell and fell, it was like the world was a toy all of the sudden. He made snowmen, snow-angels, even had a little snowball war with Ro and John. They were both far more experienced snowball fighters and he totally got his ass whipped, but fuck it. It was fun. His life needed more fun, these days.

But then the stuff kept coming down. Coated everything. Had to be scrapped off his car. He had to trudge through it, needed to buy some boots just to do that. Slipped on it a few times. It wasn't snowing too heavy, not quite enough to really shut anything down, but it was enough to make just about every aspect of his life way more annoying than it needed to be. Considering how annoying they were to start, that was an accomplishment.

The one good thing was that his supervisor at the arena told him he didn't have to come in and clean today. He was starting to get used to being a janitor in his spar time - as much you can really get used to cleaning up piss puddles in a bathroom, anyway. All the same, he wasn't exactly crying over getting the day off. The job was constant reminder of the reason he needed the extra money in the first place: Jackie.

Every since she won their match and got him to pay her drinks for a year, the bitch had been draining his wallet dry. Apparently human beings were built differently in Ireland, because there was no way a girl who wasn't even five feet tall could drink as much as she did without alchohol poisoning. She just kept knocking them back and his bank account kept getting smaller and smaller.

To make matters worse, figuratively fucking with him wasn't bad enough, she had to literally do it, too. Typically, that would be a good thing. Army liked sex. Jackie was pretty good at it. But she had this odd little habit of assaulting him out of nowhere, smacking him around with whatever weapon she had on her at the time, and just taking him whenever there weren't people around. It wasn't because she thought he was hot or anything - in fact, she'd made it a point to let him know he still disgusted her. She just got her rocks off dominating him. That was it. It was all part of her crazy little psycho mindset. She just wanted to control him, mess up his head, hurt him.

The worst part? He liked it. He hated himself before it happened and after it happened, but during it? Awesome. Deep down, he couldn't lie - there was a part of him that wanted her to do it, and that's what drove him nuts. It made him hate himself almost as much as he hated her, which was probably the whole point. He was basically Jackie's toy.

Army couldn't stay at home and stew over that, and he didn't want to go out and risk running into her - the bitch would go to insane lengths to mess with him, lay in wait for hours hiding, so there was no telling where she would pop up. There was only one safe haven he knew of, a place she probably wouldn't even think to hide: Carmen's gym.

It was the same gym that she and Lorenza Saldano had fought in a few months back. At the time, the place was a monument to rust and bad plumbing, abandoned for years and only a shell of what a boxing gym should have been. But Carmen still had some funds left over from her Olympic days. She had a few favors left. It had taken about a month of tinkering with the place, but the two of them bought the property and got it running and looking like a halfway decent facility. Two of the three boxing rings were good enough for sparring in, they got some bags and workout equipment on the top floor, cleaned out the restrooms - made much easier thanks to Army's new work experience - and they'd even gotten some local talent to sign on and frequent the place. The boxing scene wasn't too stellar in Japan, but maybe that was why Carmen was so set on making it work. She liked challenges.

The important thing at the moment, though, was that it gave Army a place to go and have some peace of mind. Even better, it was a place with things to hit. Army needed to hit something.

So he made his way to the gym, put on his boxing trunks, and got in some quality time with the heavy bag. Just him in his boxing trunks, red with the black trim, slamming his crimson gloves into it and working on his punches. He was a wrestler now, but striking was still where his heart lied. Here, he could go back to when things were simpler. When it was just him and his Dad on a rainy day, going hard on the training. Pushing, striving, thriving, getting ready for the next fight. Those were good times. He didn't regret coming out here with Carmen, even with all the bullshit. He'd met some great people, had some solid fights. Hell, Ro was worth the price of admission all by herself. But sometimes...

His training was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. He couldn't quite see who it was because one of the boxing rings was in the way from where he was standing, but he could make a pretty good guess. Carmen was the only one who came in this late, probably to tidy up and get some files in order. "Hey, hermana. Just me here, getting in some work." He slammed the bag with a hard right hook and rattled the chains all the way up to the top. "You gonna be here for a while?"

Clyde heard a voice along with the rattling of chains and pounded leather. It wasn't Carmen. In fact, he appeared to be mistaken as her. Clyde looked to the voice and saw that it was her 'big' brother, Army. The one that had gotten in his face during his fight with Carmen.

"Ain't 'Hur-mahna' fer a girl?" Clyde questioned from off in the distance, not too far off for the entrance, checking out the gym. It looked like a complete dump. So dingy and dirty, Clyde usually dind't mind getting dirty, but he had a nice suit on. He didn't want to dirty it and this place was looked like it could fall apart.

...okay, that wasn't Carmen. Obviously. The voice sounded sort of familiar, he'd heard it before. Never with that much slur in it, but definitely known to him. In fact...

Army grabbed the bag to stop its swinging, then peeked out from behind it to see who exactly was stumbling onto the hallowed ground. Yup. Clyde Fuckin' Gastin. "You gotta be shitting me." This guy. This guy. It seemed like everywhere he turned in Tension, this guy was always popping up sooner or later, and now he was here, too. Great. Just one more pain in the ass, why not?

He grabbed a towel and started to walk Clyde's way, wiping his face clean as he went. "More of a man than you." Army started to pull his gloves off. "The fuck are you doing here, gringo?"

"Heh!" Clyde heard Army's priceless reaction and formed a wide, mighty, cheesy, goofy grin, hands stuffed in the pockets of his suit jacket, letting the boxer seeing that shameless grin like he was saying. "I'm heeeere~".

Clyde's confident demeanor never faltered as Army walked over towards him. Even if the big oaf was bigger and more jacked, he didn't bother the cowboy one bit, but rather his comment had the blonde clearly amused.

"Oooh. Snippy today?" Clyde mused before being called Gringo, causing him to laugh a bit. "Gringo eh? Man. I ain't been called that in a long time. Yer takin' me back to the good ol' days when I was south of the border or in the barrio. I just show up, Mexican dude says that to me and I say... 'I'm here for yer daughter or... Sister in this case." Clyde flashed Army a coy gaze.

It wasn't even like Clyde had done anything personally to him, it was just the little things that pissed Army right the fuck off about him. The accent reminded him of those annoying tourists who always dropped by the island every Spring Break and trashed the place. That goofy smile. The whole, stupid cowboy act. The way Carmen seemed to look at him like some sort of equal. Even his name - Clyde. Clyde. The name oozed with douchiness. And the fucker was all over the place. Couldn't even watch a decent episode of Friction without him popping up. Sheesh.

Just being near the guy made Army want to punch him on principle, but he was reigning it in. For now.

"My sister isn't here, jackass, and-" He paused and looked Clyde over. "What's with the suit?" Army couldn't for the life of him imagine why a guy like this would dress up like that. Hell, he was suprirsed Clyde even owned a tie.

Clyde furrowed his brow at being called 'jackass'. The tone in Army's voice wasn't at all playful or joking. It was clearly bitter and malicious. Clyde didn't know why this Roid Monkey hated him, or why he had gotten all up in his face after fighting Carmen.

Clyde was in no mood to deal with this asshole and whatever thorn he had stuck in his paw. He had enough problems.

"I like ta' look good." He replied quickly, tugging on his 60,000 Yen suit, the equivalent of 500 U.S. Dollars. He always wore a suit in public. A bad habit left over from Mercy. Or maybe a good habit.

"But if knew how rusty this place was gon' be I woulda worn somethin' cheaper."

Army had a little laugh at the first thing Clyde said, shaking his head and chuckling all the way to a water bottle sitting on the ring apron. He just got drunk, dressed up, then came here? Just thought he could walk in and get some time with Carmen, like she was on demand? Pfft.

The second thing he said, though, knocked the smile right off his face."Fucker, you don't like the place, you can leave any time you want. Not gonna stop you." He took a quick swig from the bottle and wiped his mouth off. "Why do you even want to see Carmen, anyway? Newsflash, she's gay, you're not getting any of that. Bark up another tree."

"Hey man, don't get all mad 'cause you forgot to clean the place." said Clyde with a wry grin, only to perk his head up when Army implied he was here to get into Carmen's boxing trunks. Not that he'd mind. But he laughed a bit after hearing that.

"Well I heard she did like the ladies..." He just didn't know she was gay. "But I'll get outta here as soon as I get told where I might find yer sister... I ain't here to do anythin' besides talk. So why dont'cha calm down a lil, friend."

And now Clyde was stepping on Army's janitor skills. Maybe he didn't like that job, but that didn't mean he didn't think he was good at it, and he wasn't about to take a critique from a guy who smelled like a bar after an earthquake.

"No," He sat the bottle down and crossed his arms, leaning up against the side of the ring as his stare hardened. "I don't know what you're used to in whatever shitty little corner of Texas you crawled out of, but this ain't that place, okay? You're on my property, you don't call shots." Okay, technically it was Carmen's property, but details, details.

You'll get outta here as soon as I say so, which is..." He glanced up at a clock on the wall. "Now."