Punk Country

After a one night stand with a pink haired paralegal by the name of Mercy Wrenn that left him bitter, angry and just as depressed as ever, Clyde retreated to yet another crummy Japanese bar to drown his troubles and sorrows away in whiskey, wanting nothing more than be numb from all everything that continued to plague his mind and heart nonstop, feeling there was just no end to the misery, no hope for things to get better, and no matter how much he drank he just couldn't forget the pain, the regrets or the way moving on was downright hard as shit. Maybe it just wasn't meant to happen. Maybe he wasn't to settle down and be happy. Maybe he was meant to just drink himself away until the bitter end, left alone to die in some dimly lit bar where no one knew who he was or even cared. Just like back home.

On his stool he sat, slumped on the bar with his head down upon it, a shot glass laid out in front of him, having been used over a dozen times since he arrived at the bar early in the day after his unpleasant morning with Mercy. He carried thick bags under his eyes as he stared at his empty shot glass, not even knowing what time it was or how long he had been at the bar. Not that it really mattered either way, no one was waiting for him to come home anymore and it was going to stay like that forever. He would stay there at the bar, lost in thought as he lamented over his life, Past, present and future. Not snapping out of it until he heard begin to play over the jukebox, instantly recognizing the depressing tune with the twangy voice as Hank Williams III's [url=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ANpb13_vgi4:26jmd025]"Alone & Dying".[/url:26jmd025] A song that made Clyde lift his head up from the bar as he heard the oh so depressing lyrics.

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In my darkest hour, I sit and cry all alone,

Trying to find the courage, to lie down and sleep on my own,

Thanks for all the memories, for they will never die,

It drops me to my knees dear, the way that our love had to die.

I guess itâ€s not meant to be love, the lord always knows whatâ€s right

But I just canâ€t keep on livinâ€, without you in my life.

And I just canâ€t keep on livinâ€, without you in my life.

"...Goddammit...." Clyde choked up, he wouldn't get passed a minute into the song before he began to tear up, burying his face in his arm as the lyrics seem to just taunt him by reminding him that he had lost his love and was struggling to carry on,t how much he regretted what had occurred and how he wanted things to be back to the way they were. He'd do anything to turn back time if it meant being with Heather again. Anything. But the hard truth was such a thing wasn't going to happen. Everything had changed and it was going to say changed forever. Such thoughts with the addition of the song took its toll on Clyde, prompting him to jet out of the bar to get some air before he started bawling like the pathetic wreck he was.

"...Fuck..." He'd let out under his breath as he barged through the doors and stumbled outside to greet the cool night air that seemed to greet him with open arms. The dark sky illumined by the bright neon lights of the city. It was a beautiful sight but it wasn't home, it wasn't Liberty. Clyde missed being able to look up and see the stars above him. You couldn't do that in a city like Tokyo or Kyoto. Too many lights. Either way, he missed home and his Mother, he wanted to return to Texas where he felt he truly belonged, but alas he could not unless he wanted to go to prison. He doubted he could clear his case.

"Will somebody change the goddamn song?! [size=85:26jmd025]Please..." Clyde would yell back towards the bar before whispering the last part, turning himself towards the street as he leaned against the building, this depressed blonde haired white kid in the middle of Japan who wore a plain white T-shirt, slim blue jeans, a cowboy hat and a Tan trenchcoat. He stuck out like a sore thumb but didn't seem to care. Grabbing someone's attention was almost welcomed at this point in his lonely life. He really wanted to something to live for again. More than anything he wanted a reason to live, something he could he love and maybe someone who could love him back just as much. But could he ever stand the pain of losing something like that again? He was a wreck now, could he stand ruining another tight bond? Clyde didn't think much on it.

He then fished into his trenchcoat and pulled out a pack of Marlboro cigarettes, the first pack he had purchased in over a year. Leaning against the side of the building, Clyde stared at the package for a moment a lamented over the past. The last time he smoked, Heather convinced him to stop.

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"Didn't really care how this would affect me in the long run since I figured I wasn't gonna have much of a future when I got old... Didn't think I'd ever find a real reason to live."

"Well, you can believe it now Clyde. You have the perfect reason, and it'll be here forever."

Those once happy words made Clyde feel downright sick in the stomach. Queasy. Like he wanted to puke out the pieces of his dead heart. She told him she'd be there forever, but Clyde prevented that from happening one fateful night. It just wasn't meant to be it seemed. Happiness, a reason to live and a fairy tale love story. All of it 3rd grade garbage in his eyes. Not even smoking a cigarette could be enjoyable. Everything around him seemed to just remind him off the past and what could have been, what he wanted to happen to his life. He came outside to escape a depressing song and found himself even more depressed when he stared at that pack of cigarettes he wasn't ever supposed to buy again. You just can't fight your fate it seems.

After getting a lighter from his pocket, Clyde took out a lone cigarette from the package, placing the cigarette in his mouth before bringing the lighter up to its tip while he used his free hand to shield the flame from the cool wind outside. He flicked on the lighter and ignited the cig, instantly giving it a few puffs before taking one long drag, exhaling the smoke from his nose afterwards. Same old nasty taste and smell that was all too familiar and he welcomed it as he stood there alone in front of a bar he couldn't leave within a City he didn't belong in. This sure was the life.

Eventually though, [url=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xyp6RZoEBCs:26jmd025]"Life of Sin" by Hank III[/url:26jmd025]. Something alot more up tempo and less depressing from the previous song. Clyde knew the track and it didn't take long for him to stop moping and start bopping his head to the track, keep his hand on his Cowboy hat to hold it in place as he jammed to the tune, tapping his foot to the frantic beat of the track. Alone for now.

Taylor pushed herself through the last block and was breathing hard when she finished her run. She slowed to a walk with her hands on her hips and stood upright, taking deep, controlled breaths. Running was one of the few things she could do well right now. The pain in her ribs was only like a bad cramp after the first mile or so, and she wouldn't let it slow her down. She winced as she prodded at the tender area on her side with one hand.

Given how much time she spent locked up in her apartment doing nothing after losing her title to Brittany Luvve and getting a few of her bones broken, running was exactly what she needed. It was helping her regain her cardio, and pushing herself through runs helped her regain her confidence. Most of all, while it gave her time to think, her head was clear enough that she never fell into the thoughts that plagued her as a depressing shut-in. It was therapeutic.

She stopped with her back against a building and looked out at the night-time city lights and the people passing by while she shook the tension out of her legs and stretched. Sometimes Toyko still seemed like a foreign place. She'd lived there for a year and a half, but she would always be a gaijin, which might as well have been Japanese for "skinny white girl".

Some drunk, country music-looking asshole staggered out of the bar off to Taylor's left. As the door opened and the music inside spilled out, she finally noticed that horrible country hillbilly twangy shit. "Seriously." She said under her breath when the guy demanded a song change.

She raised a confused eyebrow at the next tune, and she eyed Clyde while he rocked out. What was this place? Finally, she spoke up.

"What's up, cowboy?" She said. He was more like a mini-cowboy, no bigger than she was. "What... the hell, IS this?" She asked, her face tight.

It was all a little surreal, standing there outside some kind of cowboy bar, with some kind of little cowboy in his duster and cowboy hat, and yet Taylor ended up feeling out of place. Her tight black tank top had a white skull off to one side and her little, snug-fitting blue running shorts, with black stripes down each side, showed her slender, muscular legs. Her black hair was pulled back in a simple pony tail, and she had pinned her long bangs to one side to keep them from pissing her off during her run.

"Wait, do I recognize you?" She asked. He did look familiar, and that could only mean one thing...

Occupied with his jamming to a song that featured vocals that were incomprehensible to most human ears, Clyde would not his fellow skinny white gaijin until he heard her voice calling to him. "What's up, Cowboy?" Clyde's heard that kind of greeting from friends all the time. It was his moniker and that's how most people knew exactly who he was, but the greeting came from a voice he didn't recognize. Not friend nor foe, but just someone new entirely. Yet he couldn't help but deny he recognized the voice as well, but faintly.

"Huh? Sup." He let out before he turned to the voice, seeing quite the attractive young woman with a very slender but tone figure standing before him with a tight tank-top and short running shorts that complemented her firm, shapely body rather nicely. "Aww hell..." He thought when he say Taylor. Another babe randomly walking into his life like fate was trying taunt and tease him. He just wasn't interested in chasing another cute girl after he blew it Mercy this morning. Still, he didn't want to be a total douche and just blow her off. He didn't even know what she wanted anyway. Hopefully she just wanted directions or something.

"This? This here's Hank III's kickass track: "Life of Sin", Missy!" Clyde would declare proudly before taking the cigarette out of his mouth to hold it between his fingers as he looked over at Taylor before he heard her next question towards him, making Clyde raise an eyebrow to the girl who looked to be about his age.

"Ah... Well I dunno Ma'am, do ya? Guess you might if you watch AFW Tension..." Clyde would suggest with a calm shrug before he lifted the brim of his cowboy hat to get a better look at the girl, something about the girl's face caught Clyde's eyes, making them narrow as he stared at her. She seemed a bit familiar as well. But seriously what was he doing making small talk? Didn't he just want to be left alone and sulk?

That was the plan. But maybe he missed being able to talk to people. New faces too.

Taylor gave Clyde a look when she noticed him checking her out, and then she looked away and arched one arm over her head and stretched out her aching side. It figured that he was from Tension. Running into AFW people was always so stressful.

"No, I don't watch that shit." She said. It was mostly true. Apart from Johnny's matches, she didn't bother much with Tension. "What are you, like, a referee?" She asked with a little bit of a tone.

There was a part of Taylor that was a little upset about not being recognized by an AFW employee, but mostly she was relieved. She didn't need the attention. Still, he did look familiar. Who was the southern dude in Tension? Sounded like he was from Alabama or something. While she thought about it, she reached back and let her hair down, being forward to let it hang down and tousling it before flipping it back.

"Crap." Thought Clyde when he caught that look from Taylor, the booze clearly getting rid of his better sense of judgement, he needed to be alot more careful before he earned his old reputation back that could clearly go along with his newly reinforced drinking habits.

Clyde frowned and rolled his eyes though when Taylor responded to his question, calling Tension shit. Clyde didn't care for the League as much anymore but it was a bit part of his life, sadly. So part of him did value it.

"H-Huh!? Nah I ain't no dang ol' referee! I'm a Wrassler! I'm Clyde T. Gastin! The dang ol' 24/7 Champion!?" Clyde would let out in response to Taylor's words that had a bit of a tone to it. He was somewhat irked at not being recognized, granted his hair was much longer now and he looked like shit but still, he was probably the most successful male wrestler in AFW but was always under the shadow of others. (Granted he left belt at home which was against the rules but still!) Recalling how the female fans always drooled over guys like Fredrik Northman, Mamouru Higurashi and Dante Sunderland. It didn't bother him as much when he had Heather to go home to, but right now it sucked.

He then turned away from Taylor to face the street just as she let her hair down, sighing to himself. "...It ain't a big deal, anyway." He said aloud to himself before looking at Taylor out the corner of his eye. "Don't think I caught your name Ms...?" He'd asked curiously to this girl who's face he'd swear he'd seen before.

Taylor flashed Clyde a look, half a smile and a raised eyebrow. As if I'd tell you, she thought. He had either seen her before or he hadn't, no big deal. If he knew who she was, even without the blue hair he'd figure it out once she opened her mouth enough.

Then she realized why she knew him. He was Heather's boy toy, the one who... had problems. She didn't know that whole story, and when the stuff went down at Avalanche she was busy preparing backstage. Still. That meant she was on bad terms with pretty much every one of his friends.

"So you're a wrestler, huh." She said. "Did you win that title of yours in a hotel room? How do you train? Hookers? Sorry, little guy, you're not impressing anyone with that." She said, her NYC accent coming out in step with her attitude. "You smell like the floor of that bar. How long have you been drinking? That's just... you shouldn't do that."

"That's right..." He'd add responding to her first statement with a nod before hearing what else Taylor had to say, making the Texan begin to scowl at her a bit as she insulted him right there. This random girl whose name he didn't know was just giving him shit because of who he was. The bar was starting to look real cozy again. He didn't like being called Little either. He hated the fact that he was shorter than most of the AFW roster enough already.

Taking the cigarette from his lips, Clyde dropped it to the floor and mashed the butt under his boot before he turned to look at Taylor after she finished her little rant and commentary. "You got a big mouth, lady." He'd respond to her in a blunt manner after hearing everything she had to say.

"Did you win that title of yours in a hotel room? How do you train? Hookers? Aww fuck off, lady!" Said Clyde as he mocked Taylor's first words to him in a high pitched, childish manner before he got serious. "I won my belt in the goddamn ring durin' a Hardcore Match with my head busted open and you'll forgive me lil' lady if I ain't lookin to impress people like you." He'd respond to this girl who had quickly gotten on his nerves within a matter of seconds. "...And I been drinkin' since Mornin'... I don't know what time it is either and I dont give a damn because I'm bout to go back in that bar and start drinkin' till the next mornin'... So you'll forgive me if I don't stop, Mom." Clyde would let out in a clearly agitated manner, putting some emphasis on his last word as a means to counter Taylor's advice that he didn't want.

He then narrowed his eyes and give the girl another look before he began to catch onto who she could be. "You used to have blue hair and pig-tails...?" He'd ask her before his eyes went wide upon realizing who the girl with an attitude most likely.

"Aww hell, not you..." He'd groan before taking a few steps back away from Taylor. A bit upset with himself for taking a liking to her when he saw, but now this all seemed to be just one bad joke after another as he encountered the loud mouth Chihuahua from Friction who seemed to start trouble everywhere she went. Not that Clyde was any different.

"...Taylor Friggin Parker..." He'd mutter out bitterly and dully to himself. Not the last person he wanted to see but probably close.

"Well jeez, I'm just saying..." Taylor said defensively and a little quietly. Drunk wasn't a good fit on anyone, and it worried her a little to see people so out of it.

Then Clyde put two and two together. Whatever. "That's right." She said, imitating the way Clyde said it. "Look man, I know who you, and I'm not upset. Why don't you just chill out, a'right?" She said. Maybe she was asking for it, ragging on Clyde's business and all, but honestly she didn't have a ton of respect for people who made it to the top by having gross sex in front of everyone while tough, hard working fighters still had to struggle to keep up. Still, he didn't really look like the type, that arrogant playboy type who were just sure women would fall at their feet and beg them for attention. Maybe he wasn't that guy.

It couldn't hurt to try to actually be nice. "So..." She started out, but had to think for a second to come up with some actual conversation. "You still with Heather? How's that going?"

"Yeah. Sayin' alot of bullshit." Clyde snapped back bitterly at Taylor. "You might know my name and what I look like. But you don't know a damn thing 'bout the kinda man I am or what I do since you don't watch the damn league. So don't assume shit 'bout me unless you got ya facts straight, lady." Clyde would let out with alot of anger and agitation in his voice, offended by the girl's remark towards him. While certainty didn't value or think much of himself (Especially these days) he hated how people seemed to assume he was just sleazy scumbag either because of his early actions in AFW or because he worked in Tension. He fought hard with his fists and wrestling to get where he was in the league.

"Chill!? Me!? Why don't YOU chill out, lady! You're the one who started raggin' on me 'bout all my shit after you asked who I was! Then you gon' talk about how I smell!? Don't expect me to just chill after you start runnin' ya mouth on me for no reason!? Start shit with someone else, lady, but not me, alright!?" The Cowboy would yell out in an intoxicated and emotional burst of anger and frustration, slumping against the wall of the building, too worn out, boozed up and weak to keep on yelling like that.

Then Taylor brought up the worst subject for a conversation with Clyde. His eyes would open up wide as she mentioned the name of his former lover, the one he wanted to forget so the pain and regrets would no longer exist in his heart and soul. He had been beaten within an inch of his life once before but that was nothing compared to the torment he felt at losing the woman he loved more than anything. He wish he could say Yes and it be the truth. But life didn't work like that sadly.

"....N-No... I-I'm not... We're not together anymore..." Clyde admitted painfully, muttering out the hardest truth that he still had trouble coping with. The anger and frustration was gone and replaced by regret and sadness as he lowered his head in sorrow. His eyes were already red from the drinking, so one couldn't exactly tell if he was on the verge of tears, but he was. He held the tears back though, refusing to show weakness publicly, especially in front of a woman.

"What's it matter to you anyway... You tryin' to rub it in my face that she's outta my life?" He'd lash out a bit as he hung his head down, lacking the aggression in his voice now.

Taylor made a face. "Fuck you, man, you're the one yelling." She said matter of factly.

As much as Taylor was not a fan of Heather, and as much as she was not exactly swooning over the faux-cowboy in front of her, she was still sorry to hear about their situation. "Oh." She said. She couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Oh, come on, man, how was I even supposed to know? You might know that me and Heather aren't exactly BFF's, and I don't, like, sit with that little clique at lunch time either. I know you guys, and like, Cecelia and stuff are all... whatever." She scratched the back of her neck while she thought for a second.

"Well... that sucks, man." You're better off, she wanted to say. She didn't. "So... you're just, like... drinking yourself to death now? That's cool. You should try working out instead, that's what Johnny does."