Not So Jolly Christmas

The punch Clyde took devastating and nearly floored him. He supposed he was thankful that Army's punch struck his head instead of his face. His thick skull seemed to have saved him.

But nonetheless, the punch wounded Clyde and left him wide open for Army's attack, taking a hard kick to the chest from the nearly 200 pound bruiser, the wind being knocked right out of Clyde's lungs as he was flung off his feet, spittle flying from his mouth, falling onto his back, rolling onto his shoulders before flopping onto his stomach. The floor of the gym now dirtying the front of his shirt, jacket and tie.

On the ground, Clyde coughed and sputtered, holding his throbbing head as he struggled to get up to even one knee, the door of the gym directly behind him.

He looked to Army with a stern, though tired glare, breathing rapidly as he got into a kneel and then slowly, to his feet.

"...Y-You... Dickless Sonova-Bitch!" He muttered as he rose to his feet. "...You say you more of a man than me!? Motherfucker, she did that shit ta' make an example outta me! She hoped to make every man in this stupid goddamn league pussy out for darin' ta get ahead in Tension!" Clyde spat angrily, scowling at Army as he panted furiously.

"So congratulations, Mr. Six-Foot, Two-Hundred Pound Warrior man... You've proven that man-hatin' cunt right... And you have a Vagina."

Clyde's win against Carmen had been a total fluke. She was just new to wrestling, holding back before she looked up to the tiny Texan for some odd-ass reason. In a real fight, she would've won. Hell, if they ever wrestled again, she would win. No way does a Rodgriguez lose to some scruffy-looking goofball with a goddamn cowboy fetish. Clyde was a joke. Nothing. Nada.

So how the hell was this little shit getting back up again?

That alone pissed Army off more than anything, and the words that Clyde spat next just hammered the nail right home. "Fucking..." He wiped his mouth off and spat to the side. "Cry me a fucking river, man. You think you're the only guy who's got some bitch making his life hell? Welcome to the club, asshole. All the shit I got to put up with, working two goddamn jobs, and here you come with your sob story and your nice suit, throwing out orders like you're King Shit? Fuck that. Fuck that and fuck you, grindo de meirda."

There was no way Clyde could know half of what Army was talking about, but screw it, felt good to get off his chest. This little zit was getting popped, going down and staying down, whether he liked it or not.

Army broke into a run, charged towards him like a bull coming down the street and threw a hard right at Clyde's face the second he was close enough to hit.

And Clyde rolled his eyes at first but ultimately looked to Army like he had cursed out his own mama. "W-What!? Motherfucker you're the one who brought up MY problems! You here ta' take a pissin contest who's got it worse? Fuck off, faggot! Or better yet, paco. Chupa mi Heuveos! " Clyde spat before he stick his fist out, turned it upside down and gave Army the bird as firmly as he could while using the very little spanish he knew.

But now Army was coming in full speed and Clyde was stuck in his path, the woozy Cowboy narrowed his eyes and desperately tried to side step at the last second and wrap his ankles around Army's in attempt to give him a drop toe hold and drop the big man face and chest first into the gym floor below.

Clyde stumbling through the Spanish language like that was enough reason to smack him around all by itself, simply on principle. As Army charged forward, it just made him move that much faster and strike out that much harder,  with a punch that was almost guaranteed to take his head off if it connected. If.

Army learned just how big that 'if' was, though, when he swung out and Clyde dodged, moving at the last moment, leaving him to stumble forward like an idiot. He swung out to the side, tried to catch the cowboy before he could get away, but it was already too late:  Clyde dropped, and as his legs came up and Army's ankles got caught in the hold, he dropped, too.

"Shit-" Was all Army had the time to stay before he fell forward and smacked his face against the hard tiles, hitting with an impact that echoed throughout the room. His nose began to fill up with that familiar, metallic scent, the first sign of a nosebleed, and the crash left him dizzy and dazed on the gym floor. He shook his head and tried to push back up, but it was slow going every inch of the way.

Clyde fell to the floor with Army beside him, hearing the satisfying crash of flesh against the hard tile floor. Clyde didn't waist any time untangling his limbs from Army and scrambling to his feet, staggering wobbly for a moment before readjusting.

Clyde looked down at Army while he breathed heavily, a vicious glare in his eyes as his rage consumed him. He didn't think twice about trying to kicking dog while he was down, for Clyde was a dog himself and he had no Mercy left inside him.

In more ways than one...

He charged in the short distance between him and Army, rearing his foot back once he was in range, trying to give the bastard a hard punt across the mouth with his size 9 loafers.

"Eat! Shit!!"

When Army got up, he was going to demolish Clyde. Drag him back the ring by the scruffy mop he called a head of hair, throw him in there, slap on the gloves and show him how a real man fought in a real fight. None of this tricky wrestling shit, nothing fancy, just a straight up, brawling beatdown. Army started to get up to do just that, but he'd forgotten about one little chink in his entire plan - Clyde's foot.

Clyde's boot cracked Army across the jaw and sent him spiral, rolling over once from the hit itself and another time from the pain. Now he had the taste of blood to go along with the smell, dripping along his teeth as laid on his back and stared up at the ceiling. He could see the starry sky through a couple of holes up there. Definitely had to call someone about getting those fixed.

"Fucker..." He spoke as best as he could through the groan, as he rubbed his mouth and spat out blood to the side. He shook his head from side to side as the stupor got even worse. "Fucking, piece of..."

Clyde sneered as his ¥27,000 yen, ($224 USD) brown, leather-bit loafers smacked Army across the his big jaw and spun him flat on his back, a rush of adrenaline and power shooting up his spine as the satisfying kick sent the big bruiser down and looking up at the lights in a daze.

The cowboy stood over his head, breathing through his nose as his head continued to throb, glaring down coldly at Army, drawing his foot away to take a single step back, watching as the boxer spat out some blood and cursed him.

"-This'a ¥60,000 Yen suit, asshole. You dirtied it." Clyde mutter after cutting off Army, dusting the dirt off one of the sleeves on his Khaki suit. "If yer' sister ain't here, then you just wastin' my time, friend. I got better shit ta' do than kick your sorry ass..." Said Clyde as he turned his back on Army and began walking away towards the front door, believing his little bout with Army had finished.

Army was wincing from the pain, but even through shriveled eyelinds, he could see Clyde looking down at him like he was trash. Talking about his suit, like it changed a damn thing. A piece of shit wrapped up in a bow was still a piece of shit. Army didn't care how nice the packaging was. The product was total junk.

He rolled to his front just in time to see Clyde walking away from him. Showing him his back, like he really was the mid-card nothing he'd called him earlier. All that, and he thought he'd walk out of here?

"No," Army pushed up to his feet and came at Clyde from behind with staggering steps, drunkedly shambling after him. He reached around Clyde's waist from behind and tried to pull him, nice and tight. He was probably walking right into another gay crack with the move, but it wouldn't matter if it worked. "You don't."

Army jerked back and tried to drop Clyde on his head with a belly-to-back suplex. It wasn't a move he'd ever done before, so it was sloppy, rushed, didn't have quite the power it should have, and his newfound headache wasn't going to make it any better. But if it just took a little wind out of Clyde's sails, it would be more than enough.

Clyde was done. He had no desire left to continue fighting Army and sought to go elsewhere. At least that was the plan. He'd hear footsteps behind him soon enough, but with the inability to turn around quick enough, Clyde was soon grabbed by Army from behind.

"What the fuck!?!?" Clyde snapped angrily, getting no time to counter as he was quickly flung back, less of a small more of a throw but still painful, especially on the hard gym floor. Clyde would hit the gym floor hard on his shoulders and the back of his head.

"Auugh!!" the suplex sent Clyde from the top of his shoulders and rolled him onto his seat, where he instantly hugged the back of his head before falling over onto his side.

"G-God....Damn..." He groaned, kicking at the floor, gritting his teeth as he held his head.

Army was not answering his phone. Carmen generally recognized that as a bad thing.

There was the slight possibility he'd forgot to charge the thing, but he was typically pretty good about that, especially when he was in the middle of a workout. No, if he wasn't answering his phone, it probably meant he'd laid the stupid thing somewhere, forgotten it. Which meant that he wasn't at the gym, like he said he would be tonight. Which brought with it the distinct possibility that he'd left the place and forgotten to lock up on his way out. Again.

She'd ream him for it later. For now, she was tired. Her blue business slacks and the white, buttoned shirt she wore testified to the annoyance she'd just gone through, getting orders squared away with her gym's sponsers and doing her best to quell their concerns. It left her in no mood for bullshit, and as she parked by the side of the gym and made her way down the sidewalk, she was just concerned about getting the place secured for the night. The alarm system was one of the many things they needed to work on with the gym, since it was only a matter of time before someone figured out this new, fledgling busy in the neighborhood wasn't properly protected. Carmen had went to too much trouble to get this place up and running, invested too much capitol, and she wasn't about to see it go down the drain. This was her baby, and her baby was going to be safe.

Carmen was expecting the door to be unlocked when she pulled it open. What she wasn't expecting, though, was to see her brother still there. On the floor. Bleeding all over his face. With Clyde laying beside him, groaning in agony and nursing his skull.

"Clyde?" She kneeled down beside him and checked around his head, before throwing a furious glance Army's way. "What the fuck did you do?"

"Me?" Army wiped away the stream from his nose as he tried to get back up to his feet. It didn't last long before it was replaced by a fresh one. "Why do you think it's my fault, just off gate?"