Taking out frustrations (open RP/mixed spar challenge)

The punching bag was flying in every which direction but one as it took a pummeling. From the one direction it wasn't flying, stood a silver-haired, college-aged man, steaming from who knew what. He hadn't minded the change in his setting from the campus to an actual arena. Sure he had experience there, but that wasn't what bothered him. Since the change in setting, Max had not once seen himself listed on the card. To him, he was insulted. He felt that he belonged with the best of the best, even if his track record on the campus didn't necessarily prove that.

His taped fist was flying at the red bag, something that his psychiatrist had told him to do whenever he got frustrated any more. It was helping him a little, but it didn't ease his mind that he was itching for a fight.

The gym seemed mostly empty as Makie entered it. This suited her fine, as she was in mood for a bit of solitary training. Since her last match, she felt like she was slowly moving up in the AFW world, and while she felt fine with this, she wanted to be absolutely sure she was ready before she advanced any further.

She set her gym bag down and stretched her arms a bit. At the moment, she was just wearing a white sports bra and tight gym shorts, over which she wore a black t-shirt. She was about to go to work on the treadmills, however, when she heard the unmistakeable sound of someone using the punching bags further down.

Hm. Perhaps she wasn't so alone after all. She moved a bit closer to investigate, wondering if it was anyone she knew. She hoped it wasn't that judo bitch Makoto, she thought with a grimace. She had a score to settle with her, but she was going to do it properly, in the ring, not in some backstage gym scuffle.

Max threw another strong punch at the bag, this time a right. It hit the red bag with a thud as it went flying, rattling the chain that held it to the roof. "Stupid management!!!!" he shouted as he watched the bag fly. His movement was causing his silver basketball shorts to shake a bit as the sweat was creating an oval down his black wife-beater.

He was completely oblivious to his surroundings now, focusing only on that red bag. Max wasn't a boxer, but his upper-body was wear he excelled the most. Another punch was aimed at the bag this time, a left hook-shot. In this one he threw all of his anger into it. "FUCKING BULLSHIT BOARD OF DIRECTORS!!!" he yelled, watching it fly. He couldn't help but hear a creaking metal sound, but attributed it only to moving of the chain. Meanwhile a screw had been ripped a bit from its hole, causing the rest of the holder to creak as it moved with the bag.

Makie quickly discovered the source of the punching bag sounds. Well, and the creaking of the chain. And the shouting. It was when all the obscenities started flying that Makie knew, just before looking at the guy, that she was sharing the gym with a psycho.

There was a boy...a bit taller than her, with dirty-blonde hair-- busy unleashing what must have been a lot of pent-up rage on the punching bag. And, as Makie noticed, he was really doing a number on it. Normally, she would not have interceded, but she had been wanting to use all of the gym's equipment today, and didn't want to have to alter her plans just because some jerk ruined the punching bag.

"Hey," she cut in, "calm down and quit destroying that thing, okay? Other people might want to use it."

Max was rather focused, his silver-dyed hair seeming to rustle with his shorts as he readied yet another punch. However, his focus was soon broken by the sound of a female voice, causing him to turn his head to see its source. He was sure that he was alone in this gym, but there before his eyes was a shorter, black-haired female looking like she was ready to work-out.

"What the- OOMPH!!!" he said as the punching bag came back and swung into him, knocking him off of his feet with its momentum. It hadn't hurt him so much as taken him by surprise. He shook his head quickly and started getting to his feet. "Oww...crazy bitch, what do you think you're.." he caught himself before he continued further as he looked at Makie while he got to his feet, her words finally catching up with him after the whole scene. "Oh..yeah...sorry...my bad...." he said a bit apologetically, trying to stay as calm as possible, fighting the voice inside his head that was previously punching the bag.

Makie raised an eyebrow. One minute this guy had been going berzerk, and looked like he was about to murder that punching bag...and now he was acting like the very model of politeness. Maybe he had just realized he wasn't alone in the gym, she thought to herself.

"Whatever," she said, raising her hands as she was about to turn away. "It's none of my business what you do, so long as you don't wreck the gym." I hope this nutcase isn't a Tension fighter, she thought to herself. Otherwise, I may be put off of mixed matches for good now. Judging by how well built his upper body was, though, this stranger did certainly have the look of a wrestler.

"Wreck the gym?" he said, moreso thinking out loud. The creaking of the bag as it swung slowly to a halt had now gotten his attention, causing him to turn his head to fastening that held the bag to the built-in lip of the room.

"Shit....guess I was more pissed than I thought...." Max mentioned, now thinking at Makie a little bit. "It was just....they won't put me in a match on Tension yet....I got a bit carried away with my frustrations..." His head had now turned back to Makie, a bit of an apologetic face searching for reassurance from this stranger. "Dr. Roberts told me that I should vent my frustrations by working out...dunno if this is what he had in mind."

"Uh huh," Makie replied flatly. Great, not only was he indeed a Tension wrestler, but his mention of a doctor confirmed that he WAS a psycho! And even worse, a psycho who got upset over matches! And...well, a sorta kinda cute psycho, but a psycho regardless.

"Yeah, well...not to contradict your doctor or anything, but maybe you should take up something a little less...destructive?" she offered. "Like zen...or painting?" Or intensive medication? she added mentally, before wondering why she was still talking to this guy in the first place.

Max raised his eyebrow at the suggestion of taking up a less destructive hobby. "Zen or painting, huh? I suppose...they liked painting a bit...just..not my thing though.." Max said with some emphasis on they. He of course was referring to the Beatles, but given the current impression he was giving, it was sure to come off otherwise.

"No...I don't think that suits me...I need this...I need wrestling...struggling...fighting....but those suits won't let me do it!!! Do you know what that does for me?!" His psychosis was starting to break through. "It makes me do things.." He turned and threw a haymaker at the bag, "that I end up regretting!"

Makie raised an eyebrow. This guy's pent-up rage was beginning to get more than a little worrying. She had just come down here to work out, not to play therapist with a psycho.

"Yeah, well...good luck with that," she said, backing away slowly as she resolved not to agitate the crazy man further.