Post by Roth O'Roak on Nov 8, 2010 12:56:54 GMT -8
Nineteen and a half years ago a baby boy was born into the world. He wasn't an early birth, yet he was small and lean. From there the boy grew up over time in a section of Boston called Southie. Southie was a poorer section comprised of mostly Irish blooded Americans trying to make a low/lower middle class living. The boy would grow there and grow tough from constant fights, muggings, etc. You had to be tough and Irish to make it out of Southie alive.
After a long time growing the boy would move on to a place called Mugen Hall in Philadelphia. Depressed, angry, and rebellious the boy would emerge into a man after a few near death encounters and many, many brutal confrontations. But he wouldn't stay there for long.
Over the next year after Mugen Hall the man was sent to various schools across the country. All claiming they could fix any problem and break any spirit. But not his. The man from Boston strode through them all until he arrived at a very special place.
The Chula Vista Collective, located in Southern California. The man would grow much stronger and much more mature here. His body was near perfection and his charisma was high. Unfortunately this is where his downfall would begin. After a confrontation with a man named Tiao Lei Shen, the man would be targeted by the local Yakuza. Instead of killing him they drugged him with an unknown experimental drug.
This drug made the man retract into depression and maddening. Though all of this he met his polar opposite. His name was Joshua Treborn. These two titans would clash over and over in amazing spectacles. Each fight would be more epic than the last.
The Collective went on extreme lock down after the murder of two teachers. Unbeknownst to the majority of the school, these two teachers had simply killed each other. The man, under extreme paranoia, received a call from a mysterious man. He called him self Esau and told the man exactly how to escape the Collective.
The man listened and escaped without question. From there was was taken by Esau and put under a comatose state for 10 months for the drugs to wear off. As that time ended Esau out the man into a school called PHS 259. From there the man would recover and go back to his old, powerful self. unfortunately that would not last.
After an epic battle between the man and an enemy called Vetis he was hospitalized after being filled with random colored drugs and both his knees shattered. Esau came to the man and gave him the Yakuza drug in order to help him cope with the pain and recover quickly. But this would lead back to depression, maddening, and the visions of the man's deceased sister.
But for now the man had one true mission to accomplish...
"Wiggle your big toe."
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Roth sat in his newly acquired wheel chair in contempt. His knees were recovering, but not fast enough for him. He was pissed off to no end. HE understood why Esau had set him up against Vetis, but he still wanted revenge against the bastard. Just like he had wanted revenge against R'azose. A revenge he wasn't able to have.
Roth wiggled his big toe in the wheel chair. His casts were sitting to his right, shredded. He never listened to advice, even the advise of his doctors. He was going to get through this just like he had gotten through everything else. If there was one thing Roth could do, it was take and overcome excruciating amounts of pain.
Over the course of about an hour Roth was standing on his two legs. He put slid out his right foot slowly. From there his left would follow. With extreme caution Roth would begin to take a few steps. His face cringed in pain with every step. It didn't matter, he would fight through the pain. He had already began to walk. The hard part was over.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
"Marcus. I'm going out. I'll be back in a few days."
Roth didn't care if Marcus said something back. He had shit to take care of. With the ability to now walk, Roth made his way outside and to his new car. Vetis had wrecked the old one by throwing a ton of shit at it. Esau had given him a new one though. Almost exactly identical too. His steps were similar to that of an old man.
Now that he could walk it was time for his second mission. Find his weapon. In his clash with Vetis he had lost something close and dear to him. Roth's signature Barbed Wire Baseball Bat. He had obtained it at Mugen Hall and brought it with him all over the country. Now it was lost somewhere on the East Side of Long Beach.
With his ability to drive restored Roth made his way down to the scene of his downfall. His eye sight was still a bit off though. Having had 3 syringes in each eye ball had certainly caused some damage, but luckily Marcus had pulled them all out before they could leave a large permanent effect. Now he just had spots forming every now and the and an occasional throb.
It didn't take long to find the place. The apartment building was totaled since Roth had crashed through it. He didn't have much memory of the situation but he had no idea how he had jumped up so high. It made him shudder going by the building. That shudder in turn pulled on Roth's healing ribs. Everything just hurt.
Analyzing the building Roth planned out the trajectory of the bat. It wouldn't be too far. It would be to the left of the building, perhaps on a roof top. Roth exited his Supra and made his way to a nearby building. He checked the roof and the nearby alley way. Nope. After that he checked the next three buildings it could have been near. Nope.
Roth's walking had definitely gotten better now, but he was now at loss. His signature weapon was gone. The one thing he still had to remind him of everything he had been through. Gone. Roth knew he had some Jack Daniels in his trunk and went over to hit thinking it would calm him down a bit.
Popping open the trunk Roth looked down and found his bat. All this time it was just sitting there looking back at him. On the barbed wire was a note. Written on custom stationary with green ink. Roth with a wide smile on his face ripped off the note and looked down on it.
Roth,
I thought you might be looking for this. I know what it means to you. You're lucky it didn't break in half on impact. Lucky son of a bitch.
-Esau
With a small laugh Roth put the note back inside the trunk. Roth's hand moved forward to grab the bat. Then it stopped and moved back a bit in hesitation. He stopped and looked around to make sure no one else was watching him in the broad day light. Luckily there wasn't a soul around. Roth reached back in and grabbed it's leather padded handle.
Now imagine if you could a samurai. A battle hardened samurai who had survived many epic battles, and endured many hardships. After a phenomenal battle he had lost his prised possession. His Katana. A Samurai without his katana was nothing. A soldier without his weapon was nothing. Roth without his bat, was nothing.
Roth admired it for a while. The wire still intact after all it had been through. The wood still hard and durable after taking so many hits. The polished wood was of course blood stained, but it added to it's character. The black leather handle added much needed comfort and maneuverability. This was his. This is what defined Roth as a fighter.
After a few minutes Roth put his baby back into the trunk of his car. HE smiled at it, then closed the trunk. With his knees already able to let him walk smoothly he got back in the car. He waited a moment for his eyes to adjust again. He felt his broken ribs to feel how they were healing so far. Not too bad. In fact, much better than he had thought.
Now it was time for the third and final mission. Regain the ability to fight.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
There was a few places Roth could really remember where he had fought at his best. The hallways of Mugen Hall. The courtyard of Chula Vista. And of course the ring of the SDCFL. All over the country Roth had been broken, and had broken other people. Then he realized that wasn't where he wanted to go. He needed somewhere that was peaceful. Quiet. A place where it could be him alone to train his body back to where it was.
With a car stocked with food, water, and of course alcohol Roth drove his was out to the desert. Death Valley to be precise. There was no better place to train by his lonesome with nature. The heat would train him as well. Luckily for Roth he tanned well for an Irish guy.
If took about 4 hours of driving for him to reach a nice spot. Isolated from the touristy spots it gave Roth the sanctuary he needed. His car would be parked out in the middle of nowhere in Death Valley. With a few tranquil CD's, Roth would play songs like this for him to recuperate to.
His knees were weak, but he endured. HE would start with learning how to run. From a fast walk he would begin. After a half hour of his legs getting warm up Roth would switch into a jog. His knees were killing him. They might have been more smashed up than he though. It didn't matter. Roth would learn to do everything like before or die out here in Death Valley.
The sun was now setting. The desert slowly began to get cold. It still didn;t matter much. At this time Roth gave his legs a break and worked on his arms. They weren't in need of repair but he trained them anyway. Push ups in the cool sand, shadow boxing to build up his speed. With each punch he could feel his ribs pulling. Over and over again Roth would seethe while he breathed. Fight Roth, fight dammit!
All through the night Roth beat himself into running. He could hear the sound of his knees aching against his muscle. The pain couldn't be described at this point, but he kept running. He ran a mile away from his car, then a mile back. Three times he did this until he got back to his car only to collapse from the pain. Break time.
The running had caused his legs to quit on him. Fuck'em. Roth using only his tired arms dragged himself along his car to the trunk. Opening it he got his now fourth bottle of water and chugged it. After that he'd grab 2 power bars, a large container of creatine, and his fifth water. Mixing the creatine in the water Roth slowly sipped the disgusting taste down as the high powered substance dissolved in his water. At least the power bars were good.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Roth awoke in his car the next morning. Well, the sun had already been up so it was more like eleven by now. Still morning, but late. Roth's bones, muscles and mind all begged him to stop. No deal. Slapping himself awake Roth got out of the car and stood on his aching legs. He could hear them screaming out. It was necessary. If he didn't do all of this his knees would retreat to their weak state again. He wasn't going back to that.
Only a few yards from his car Roth practiced simple strikes, punches, and kicks. Very basic moves he had known since he was a child. Slowly he would move on to more complex forms and moves. Side kicks, elbows, knee strikes. Those knee strikes hurt the worse. From there it would go to small jumping moves. Crane style kicks, roundhouses, and axe kicks.
The heat baked Roth as he practiced. He could feel the sweat coursing throughout his body. Taking a small water break Roth removed his shoes, socks, and shirt leaving only his blur jeans to cover his body from the sun. After that he'd be right back to training. HE could feel his knees getting stronger, back to where they were before. Physical therapy at it's finest.
Roth trained his move set over and over again until the sun started to set once again. He could feel his strength returned to him. The best part was that he couldn't feel the effects of the Yakuza drug Esau had given to him. Perhaps he had out matched it. Roth pulled him self onto the roof of his car and laid back as the sun set. The stars were absolutely beautiful in Death Valley. Putting on a new set of clothes Roth would sleep through the night to rest his body.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Morning. This time Roth woke up at a reasonable hour. It was about 7-8ish now. He didn't have to look out at the clock, he could just feel it now. Roth got out of the car and checked his body over. Nice and hard. HE checked is ribs, they still hurt, but they were strong again. Then he checked his knees. They were well healed now. Strong and fit again although a bit misshapen. He wasn';t perfect again, but he was well on his way.
Roth made himself a small breakfast on a battery powered George Foreman. Bacon, ham, some flax bread, and orange juice. All cornerstones of any nutritious breakfast. Now he was at peace, all was right in the world. Roth still felt the heat ponding and went back to his shoeless and shirtless attire. HE would bask in the heat and in his peace.
Unfortunately. That peace may not last very long.
Off in the distance Roth could see something. He wasn't sure what it was. A person, a car maybe. It was definitely something and it was headed Roth's way. Now with a scornful look Roth would wait by his car to see what that black dot in the distance would bring weather it was a mirage, or a Battle Without Honor or Humanity.
After a long time growing the boy would move on to a place called Mugen Hall in Philadelphia. Depressed, angry, and rebellious the boy would emerge into a man after a few near death encounters and many, many brutal confrontations. But he wouldn't stay there for long.
Over the next year after Mugen Hall the man was sent to various schools across the country. All claiming they could fix any problem and break any spirit. But not his. The man from Boston strode through them all until he arrived at a very special place.
The Chula Vista Collective, located in Southern California. The man would grow much stronger and much more mature here. His body was near perfection and his charisma was high. Unfortunately this is where his downfall would begin. After a confrontation with a man named Tiao Lei Shen, the man would be targeted by the local Yakuza. Instead of killing him they drugged him with an unknown experimental drug.
This drug made the man retract into depression and maddening. Though all of this he met his polar opposite. His name was Joshua Treborn. These two titans would clash over and over in amazing spectacles. Each fight would be more epic than the last.
The Collective went on extreme lock down after the murder of two teachers. Unbeknownst to the majority of the school, these two teachers had simply killed each other. The man, under extreme paranoia, received a call from a mysterious man. He called him self Esau and told the man exactly how to escape the Collective.
The man listened and escaped without question. From there was was taken by Esau and put under a comatose state for 10 months for the drugs to wear off. As that time ended Esau out the man into a school called PHS 259. From there the man would recover and go back to his old, powerful self. unfortunately that would not last.
After an epic battle between the man and an enemy called Vetis he was hospitalized after being filled with random colored drugs and both his knees shattered. Esau came to the man and gave him the Yakuza drug in order to help him cope with the pain and recover quickly. But this would lead back to depression, maddening, and the visions of the man's deceased sister.
But for now the man had one true mission to accomplish...
"Wiggle your big toe."
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Roth sat in his newly acquired wheel chair in contempt. His knees were recovering, but not fast enough for him. He was pissed off to no end. HE understood why Esau had set him up against Vetis, but he still wanted revenge against the bastard. Just like he had wanted revenge against R'azose. A revenge he wasn't able to have.
Roth wiggled his big toe in the wheel chair. His casts were sitting to his right, shredded. He never listened to advice, even the advise of his doctors. He was going to get through this just like he had gotten through everything else. If there was one thing Roth could do, it was take and overcome excruciating amounts of pain.
Over the course of about an hour Roth was standing on his two legs. He put slid out his right foot slowly. From there his left would follow. With extreme caution Roth would begin to take a few steps. His face cringed in pain with every step. It didn't matter, he would fight through the pain. He had already began to walk. The hard part was over.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
"Marcus. I'm going out. I'll be back in a few days."
Roth didn't care if Marcus said something back. He had shit to take care of. With the ability to now walk, Roth made his way outside and to his new car. Vetis had wrecked the old one by throwing a ton of shit at it. Esau had given him a new one though. Almost exactly identical too. His steps were similar to that of an old man.
Now that he could walk it was time for his second mission. Find his weapon. In his clash with Vetis he had lost something close and dear to him. Roth's signature Barbed Wire Baseball Bat. He had obtained it at Mugen Hall and brought it with him all over the country. Now it was lost somewhere on the East Side of Long Beach.
With his ability to drive restored Roth made his way down to the scene of his downfall. His eye sight was still a bit off though. Having had 3 syringes in each eye ball had certainly caused some damage, but luckily Marcus had pulled them all out before they could leave a large permanent effect. Now he just had spots forming every now and the and an occasional throb.
It didn't take long to find the place. The apartment building was totaled since Roth had crashed through it. He didn't have much memory of the situation but he had no idea how he had jumped up so high. It made him shudder going by the building. That shudder in turn pulled on Roth's healing ribs. Everything just hurt.
Analyzing the building Roth planned out the trajectory of the bat. It wouldn't be too far. It would be to the left of the building, perhaps on a roof top. Roth exited his Supra and made his way to a nearby building. He checked the roof and the nearby alley way. Nope. After that he checked the next three buildings it could have been near. Nope.
Roth's walking had definitely gotten better now, but he was now at loss. His signature weapon was gone. The one thing he still had to remind him of everything he had been through. Gone. Roth knew he had some Jack Daniels in his trunk and went over to hit thinking it would calm him down a bit.
Popping open the trunk Roth looked down and found his bat. All this time it was just sitting there looking back at him. On the barbed wire was a note. Written on custom stationary with green ink. Roth with a wide smile on his face ripped off the note and looked down on it.
Roth,
I thought you might be looking for this. I know what it means to you. You're lucky it didn't break in half on impact. Lucky son of a bitch.
-Esau
With a small laugh Roth put the note back inside the trunk. Roth's hand moved forward to grab the bat. Then it stopped and moved back a bit in hesitation. He stopped and looked around to make sure no one else was watching him in the broad day light. Luckily there wasn't a soul around. Roth reached back in and grabbed it's leather padded handle.
Now imagine if you could a samurai. A battle hardened samurai who had survived many epic battles, and endured many hardships. After a phenomenal battle he had lost his prised possession. His Katana. A Samurai without his katana was nothing. A soldier without his weapon was nothing. Roth without his bat, was nothing.
Roth admired it for a while. The wire still intact after all it had been through. The wood still hard and durable after taking so many hits. The polished wood was of course blood stained, but it added to it's character. The black leather handle added much needed comfort and maneuverability. This was his. This is what defined Roth as a fighter.
After a few minutes Roth put his baby back into the trunk of his car. HE smiled at it, then closed the trunk. With his knees already able to let him walk smoothly he got back in the car. He waited a moment for his eyes to adjust again. He felt his broken ribs to feel how they were healing so far. Not too bad. In fact, much better than he had thought.
Now it was time for the third and final mission. Regain the ability to fight.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
There was a few places Roth could really remember where he had fought at his best. The hallways of Mugen Hall. The courtyard of Chula Vista. And of course the ring of the SDCFL. All over the country Roth had been broken, and had broken other people. Then he realized that wasn't where he wanted to go. He needed somewhere that was peaceful. Quiet. A place where it could be him alone to train his body back to where it was.
With a car stocked with food, water, and of course alcohol Roth drove his was out to the desert. Death Valley to be precise. There was no better place to train by his lonesome with nature. The heat would train him as well. Luckily for Roth he tanned well for an Irish guy.
If took about 4 hours of driving for him to reach a nice spot. Isolated from the touristy spots it gave Roth the sanctuary he needed. His car would be parked out in the middle of nowhere in Death Valley. With a few tranquil CD's, Roth would play songs like this for him to recuperate to.
His knees were weak, but he endured. HE would start with learning how to run. From a fast walk he would begin. After a half hour of his legs getting warm up Roth would switch into a jog. His knees were killing him. They might have been more smashed up than he though. It didn't matter. Roth would learn to do everything like before or die out here in Death Valley.
The sun was now setting. The desert slowly began to get cold. It still didn;t matter much. At this time Roth gave his legs a break and worked on his arms. They weren't in need of repair but he trained them anyway. Push ups in the cool sand, shadow boxing to build up his speed. With each punch he could feel his ribs pulling. Over and over again Roth would seethe while he breathed. Fight Roth, fight dammit!
All through the night Roth beat himself into running. He could hear the sound of his knees aching against his muscle. The pain couldn't be described at this point, but he kept running. He ran a mile away from his car, then a mile back. Three times he did this until he got back to his car only to collapse from the pain. Break time.
The running had caused his legs to quit on him. Fuck'em. Roth using only his tired arms dragged himself along his car to the trunk. Opening it he got his now fourth bottle of water and chugged it. After that he'd grab 2 power bars, a large container of creatine, and his fifth water. Mixing the creatine in the water Roth slowly sipped the disgusting taste down as the high powered substance dissolved in his water. At least the power bars were good.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Roth awoke in his car the next morning. Well, the sun had already been up so it was more like eleven by now. Still morning, but late. Roth's bones, muscles and mind all begged him to stop. No deal. Slapping himself awake Roth got out of the car and stood on his aching legs. He could hear them screaming out. It was necessary. If he didn't do all of this his knees would retreat to their weak state again. He wasn't going back to that.
Only a few yards from his car Roth practiced simple strikes, punches, and kicks. Very basic moves he had known since he was a child. Slowly he would move on to more complex forms and moves. Side kicks, elbows, knee strikes. Those knee strikes hurt the worse. From there it would go to small jumping moves. Crane style kicks, roundhouses, and axe kicks.
The heat baked Roth as he practiced. He could feel the sweat coursing throughout his body. Taking a small water break Roth removed his shoes, socks, and shirt leaving only his blur jeans to cover his body from the sun. After that he'd be right back to training. HE could feel his knees getting stronger, back to where they were before. Physical therapy at it's finest.
Roth trained his move set over and over again until the sun started to set once again. He could feel his strength returned to him. The best part was that he couldn't feel the effects of the Yakuza drug Esau had given to him. Perhaps he had out matched it. Roth pulled him self onto the roof of his car and laid back as the sun set. The stars were absolutely beautiful in Death Valley. Putting on a new set of clothes Roth would sleep through the night to rest his body.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Morning. This time Roth woke up at a reasonable hour. It was about 7-8ish now. He didn't have to look out at the clock, he could just feel it now. Roth got out of the car and checked his body over. Nice and hard. HE checked is ribs, they still hurt, but they were strong again. Then he checked his knees. They were well healed now. Strong and fit again although a bit misshapen. He wasn';t perfect again, but he was well on his way.
Roth made himself a small breakfast on a battery powered George Foreman. Bacon, ham, some flax bread, and orange juice. All cornerstones of any nutritious breakfast. Now he was at peace, all was right in the world. Roth still felt the heat ponding and went back to his shoeless and shirtless attire. HE would bask in the heat and in his peace.
Unfortunately. That peace may not last very long.
Off in the distance Roth could see something. He wasn't sure what it was. A person, a car maybe. It was definitely something and it was headed Roth's way. Now with a scornful look Roth would wait by his car to see what that black dot in the distance would bring weather it was a mirage, or a Battle Without Honor or Humanity.