Punk Country

"Coulda fooled me..." Clyde would respond to Taylor's irritatingly mocking retort after she finished complaining while obviously still trying to push buttons on Clyde by insulting Heather yet again. They say it was better to have love and lost than to not have loved at all. Well Taylor was only making Clyde wish he could completely erase these now useless feeling he had for his ex-lover, for they had gotten him into a pointless scrap with an annoying punk from new york.

His eyes shot wide when Taylor came charging in seconds after he removed his coat, his hands moving to the center of his chest as he barely got one pair of knuckles cracked before Taylor got in range to deliver to deliver running knee right towards his chest. Clyde however manged to soften the damage his chest took as he clinched up and let his arm take the brunt of it, feeling it get mashed against his body, wincing a bit from the pain while the force from the hit was enough to send him off his feet and knock him down onto his back.

"Shit!" He'd let out as his back hit the cement walk way. Quickly wasting no time though Clyde tried to go with the momentum and roll back until he was in a kneeling position in front of Taylor, holding the wrist of his right arm after Taylor struck it with her knee.

Taylor didn't slow down, she kept up with Clyde as he rolled back and waited for him to be halfway upright. When he rolled up to his knees, she dropped her shoulder and dived into him to tackle him down to the ground. She grabbed for his head to wrap her arm around his neck and roll him over, and then laid her weight down on the back of his neck to try to flatten him out face-first in the grass.

"I'm not going to fight you." She growled in a lot, severe voice. "You're drunk. I'll let you off easy. But don't you ever come at me like that. Next time, I will fuck you up and not think twice about it. Get it?"

With a grunt, Clyde would find himself getting pounced on by Taylor where he would be driven to the grass covered ground below. Frustration was building and he would begin to grit down hard on his teeth as Taylor infuriated him further, shutting his eyes tightly from the hold she had him in, not able to breath perfectly with that arm around his neck.

"Tough Shit!" He spat back with a slight gag and an angry growl at her refusal to fight as he squirmed and thrashed violently under Taylor as his cheek would remain pressed down against the grass glaring up at Taylor as best he could before he heard her threaten him and talk like he was the one who got out of line. And while he certainty had a major hand in escalating things, he had to call bullshit on everything she had just told him. Drunk or Not, he was bound to end up this way. She asked for it after all.

"Oh fuck you, lady! He shouted back furiously before he planted his hands and the balls of his boot covered feet down on the grass to try and stand himself in a push up like position. "Don't start somethin' you aint willin' to finish! And don't bother threatenin' drunks who ain't got shit to lose!!!" He let out angrily with all his frustrations building up, trying put his all into pushing off the ground force the two to roll over, putting Clyde over Taylor.

If that worked, Clyde would try to repeatedly ram the back his elbow down across Taylor's chest and upper abdomen over and over in an attempt to get loose from her hold.

After the first couple elbows, Taylor was ready to go. Of course perfect strangers would try beating on her broken ribs. Of course. She let out a sound filled more genuinely with pain than she wanted Clyde to hear, and let go of his neck. She shoved her way to her feet, clenched her fists, and screamed.

She let out a long, throat-shredding, bloody scream full of frustration and anger. "FUCK YOU!" She screamed. She couldn't tell him about her injury. He might use it. "Back the fuck off, right now mothafucker! I'm serious!" She clenched and unclenched her fists, her heart was racing, and adrenaline coursed hotly through her veins. Faced with a drunk and violent larger man, she had no idea what she would need to do. She didn't know how far he'd take it. She wanted to run, she knew she could outrun him, but... She just couldn't.

"And don't you fucking pretend like I started this! Just because you're too goddamn slow to get the first shot in doesn't mean you weren't the one coming after me!" She shouted, waving her finger at him. She glanced around to see if there was anyone else in the park, but she was too keyed up to even notice.

She slid one foot back and got into a low half-crouch. She was ready to move, fast, in whatever direction she had to, whether it was at Clyde or away from him.

Anger and adrenaline was rushing through Clyde as he hammered away frantically at Taylor's body in a desperate attempt to escape the hold she had on him. He didn't know about her injury, he may not have even cared if did anyway, maybe he would have, the answer wasn't clear, but Clyde had no sympathy for Taylor when he heard that yell of pain from her, only caring about getting up to his feet before her now that his neck was released. He had to get up quick, she would probably kick him while he was down anyway, he couldn't give her another chance to get him, so Clyde quickly tried to scramble up to his feet before Taylor could.

But just as he sprung to his feet and got his hands up in guard, Clyde would find himself cringing at the sudden and unexpected bloody scream from Taylor that rang painfully into his ears. The scream just pounded and screeched into his ear, wanting so badly to tend to his ears after it was said and done, but he felt to keep his hands where they were, knowing Taylor would just clobber him again if he let his guard down. She was tricky like that.

"WHY YOU GOTTA YELL LIKE THAT!?!?" Clyde hollered back angrily at her bloody scream before he heard Taylor's words that made his face just scrunch up in disbelief and confusion, what the hell was she doing telling him to back off when she started this!?

"The hell you talkin' bout, woman, I never fuckin' came at ya! I thought we's gon' fight Man-to-Man and all that shit 'cause you were like 'Do somethin' 'bout it, pussy' and all that shit. Well I did somethin' bout it by saying lets go Toe-to-Toe but you came all with yo' knee up in my goddamn chest, telling me you ain't gon' fight but you'll fuck up if I come at ya, when I never did, and now you all like 'Back off, I dun wanna fight'. THE HELL DO YOU WANT FROM ME, LADY!? YOU DONE ASKED FOR A FIGHT!" Clyde would let out in pure frustration before he stumbled back away from Taylor, keeping his eyes on her to make sure she didn't charge him again.

"You kept talkin shit about her! You told me to do somethin' bout it'! So I tried... Now you dun' even wanna fight! You're fuckin' confusing me, woman! Gaaaaarrraaghh!!" Clyde shouted back as he pointed at Taylor while pulling on his hair out of sheer frustration. This girl was a pain in the ass. It would be a miracle if he didn't have an aneurysm.

"The hell you want from me!?"

Taylor was so filled with rage and frustration that it choked her, and while Clyde ranted on and on she repeatedly made futile attempts to interject but settled for throwing up her hands angrily.

"I didn't mean try to fuckin' beat my ass right here, you stupid motherfucker!" She shouted back, her voice climbing to an exasperated pitch. "I meant like, go get her if she's so great, or get over her if you're really over. Or, fucking... maybe don't worry so much about what some random chick thinks about your girl, man, I'm allowed to have an opinion about shit. Maybe you're not the only one going through some shit."

She tenderly probed her sore ribs with her finger tips and winced at the pain it brought. "Man..." She said under her breath. "You people never quit. You never miss a beat. What, do you send out emails to tell everyone to work the body? Fuck you, all of you. You can all kiss my ass. I would kick Heather's ass any day of the week and she knows it. I kicked her ass in that match, too, and she's twice the man you are, Billy Gilman. If you're drunk and stupid enough to need to fight, I got you, but I hope you have health insurance. Bitch."

She took a step back, and didn't take her eyes off of Clyde. She wasn't sure if he'd still want to fight. She had to be ready, always ready. It was exhausting. She sighed. "Look, can you just tell me what we're doing here? I'm kinda beat, here, man."

"Well you shoulda fuckin' said somethin'!" Clyde shot back at Taylor right before she went on about his goddamn Ex again and lectured him so more. It only made him drag his hand and finger tips down his face out of sheer irritation. "Goddamn! Yes! You can have ya fuckin' opionion! I done said this! I just wanted you to keep it to ya fuckin' self! 'Cause you know... Maybe having her not brought up constantly in my face is a good fuckin' way to get the fuck over her!?!?" Clyde would let out, starting to get a lot more tired than actually angry by now.

But Taylor went on about something regarding her body, then yet AGAIN about Heather for the billionth time before she insulted his manhood. He wanted to say something back, he wanted to get angry, he wanted to punch her right in the mouth for saying Heather was twice the man he was, but maybe Taylor was right. Clyde was a piece of shit who had fallen lower than ever before just cause his lady walked out on him for a richer than god Biker Viking. He wasn't Tension's best anymore, He was some drunk pretending to be a tough as nails cowboy when he was in reality one of the most pathetic individuals to ever enter the AFW. And he was going to stay that way. Forever.

Why was he fighting to defend the name of someone who didn't give a shit about him anymore? Why did he still love her? Why couldn't he just forget about the best thing he ever had in his life and move on? Clyde didn't know why and he didn't care anymore, but he began to come to grips with the way life was changing yet again. Back to the way it once was, only without a shit faced grin now.

"Ya' know Ms. Cunt... You're Right... Clyde Gastin ain't shit. Not anymore. So I'm gonna go do what I do best and kill my liver... So Fuck You and Fuck Heather. The Devil's callin' me home." He told her straight up before he stumbled back to the bench to get his hat, not even bothering with the trenchcoat. He then marched forth with a slight drunken wobble towards the alleyway the two had emerged from earlier, having to go right past Taylor to reach it.

Taylor just stood and shook her head while Clyde spoke, one hand on her hip. Good, she thought, let this wannabe go drink himself to death if he wants to. She hated everyone from the south, they were all like rude, uneducated Canadians with egos. Pretty much.

"Fine." She said as he collected his things. "Good."

"Fine." She repeated.

But as Clyde brushed past her, she lost her nerve. She knew she couldn't just let him go like that. She grabbed onto his hair and the back of his pants and yanked him backwards, bent him over and swung him around and stuck her foot out to trip him as she threw him down in the grass.

"Get a grip!" She yelled at him, sticking her finger in his face. "You are not gonna go back and finish killing yourself with shots, you retard! You didn't show up here because you're a coward! You didn't land a belt because you're weak in the head! What the fuck does that skank have on you that you can't just let her go? Huh?" Of course, she really didn't have much respect for Tension or it's titles, but she was making a point.

"I don't know, man, but it looks to me like she had you by the balls, and now that you have 'em back you forgot how to use 'em. Stand up! Go home! It's time to clean up and get your shit together, because what you are right now is fucking insulting. To me. To all of us, every one of us who does what we do. And your name's not Clyde Sutherland, right? Sunderland. Whatever. Go fucking be yourself and stop dicking around like an asshole!"

She paused, and an awkward moment passed with her red faced and fired up, but out of things to say. "Yeah." She said, more quietly, affirming her own speech, though she honestly wasn't sure what she'd just said. It just came out.

Sweet Death was waiting in a bottle of whiskey and Clyde was ready to taste it. Taylor seemed to have no objections, this was good, he didn't want to be stopped now that he made up his mind and was ready to face the music. Hopefully it wasn't Rascal Flats. But a mere moment after passing Taylor, Clyde felt a hand gripping his messy locks and another hand at the back of his pants, getting yanked backwards and absolutely manhandled by Taylor when she spun him around and tripped him into the grass, causing Clyde to flip forth and hit the grass, back first, leaving him looking up at the night sky and a finger from Taylor right in his face. Would she ever be done?

"The hell I ain-!" He tried to protest before she went in this surprising pep-talk manner, actually getting surprisingly positive with him, he didn't even mind Taylor calling Heather a skank, he seemed to be adjusting well to her clear dislike of the girl. Bout time. "She was the only one who ever gave a damn 'bout a sleazy ass drunk goin' nowhere and saw a better man... Someone worth creating a life with..." He answered plainly like he had rehearsed the reason in his head a billion times. Which in reality, he had done so for the past month.

Still hearing what Taylor had to say surprised Clyde, when did she suddenly care if he was a boozed up mess or not? That was the million dollar question. "I was gon' be myself! Then you tripped me!" He shot back before clicked his tongue in irritation. "Can't go home the way I am anyway... 3 hour Train ride back to Kyoto..." Clyde would state as the main excuse before he looked to Taylor and raised an eyebrow.

"Why you actin' like this anyway? I ain't your problem, when did you start givin' a damn?" He'd ask.

"I don't!" She said, which wasn't true. Not entirely. Still, she didn't have a real answer to give him just then. "Just... get up and cut the shit, a'right? I don't have to care about you, just... it's not right. That's all."

She suddenly felt really uncomfortable and wanted to leave. She took a step back. "Yeah, well..." She said, and stalled. She suddenly stepped forward and stood over Clyde, bent down and gave him a sharp slap across his face.

"Get it together! Sleep on the bench, man, shit. Then go home and train your ass off, fight hard. Earn your spot. Make the rest of us better doing it. I dunno, man, just stop being a pussy, it's hard to watch." She said, and turned away. "I gotta jet, man, later." She stuffed her hands in her pockets and turned to leave.