Post by Nate Pierce on Jan 13, 2023 7:18:48 GMT
Camera opens up to the local fisherman bar down by the docks of the New Haven Fishery that Nate Pierce works out where The Whaler is currently leaning against the wall at a corner table with Severin and Ishmael looking on in silent concern. A set of gauze is still wrapped around Pierce’s forehead from the hellacious match he and Spike fell short in against The Dead End Express. A partial blackeye rests by his left eye, silence still hanging in the air.
Ishmael: “....Man what the hell…”
Severin: “Well…can’t say either of us expected this kind of sight.”
Ishmael: “What were you thinking?!”
Nate: “It was for the titles, Ishmael.”
Ishmael: “That doesn’t excuse that!”
Ishmael points a finger at the gauze, eyes wide and mouth agape. Nate lazily swats the fisherman’s hand away, groaning in what sounds like lingering exhaustion.
Ishmael: “How the hell are you going to explain that to Wheeler?”
Nate: “Already did. He put me on indefinite leave for the time being and he honestly looked more shaken up than either of you.”
Severin: “Well, unlike Ishmael’s hot-headedness, I’m more calm in assessing matters like this though again, this development…I did not expect.”
Nate shrugs in turn, pulling himself from the wall and leaning his forearms on the table.
Nate: “Yeah…Spike was bummed out after the whole ordeal and seeing the pain in his eyes fucking hurt. He doesn’t seem the type to get that way considering the legacy he’s paved over the years but that night after our match…you’d think someone had just ripped out part of his soul.”
Ishmael: “Like he has one as a man of violence…”
Severin: “Ish, be nice.”
Ishmael shrugs at Severin before turning his attention back over to Nate who just shakes his head.
Nate: “Anyway…business at hand, I’m the one from Chaos Theory who’s been chosen to go up against a member from the Dead End Express. A measure of retribution for the previous act against Spike and I, which….been itching to wallop one of these southern boys ever since that match. Should’ve been us as champions, not some backwood dwellers who were handed those belts on a fucking silver platter. That’s what irritates me the most about this situation more than anything.”
Nate’s hands tighten into fists, exhaling a frustrated sigh.
Nate: “On top of that, the only reason why they even had the winning edge in our encounter is because those buck-toothed brothers inherited their IQ from that father of theirs who’s far more used to risking his brains for the sake of winning, much like how his sons did the same thing to Spike and I. Well fuck that noise.”
Nate bangs a fist on the table, rattling the glassware which Severin quickly grabs ahold of his own to keep his drink steady as does Ishmael.
Nate: “So now it’s a simple one-on-one, mano-a-mano with Jack. Hey kiddo, next time you’re going to try and end a man’s career, make sure he stays down and isn’t able to walk afterwards. Since I’m clearly still able to walk on my own two feet after I was sent plummeting a good fifteen or so feet, I’m full of nothing but spite and pure hate towards you and the rest of your scraggly family. You took what should’ve been mine and Spike’s yet you still managed to slink away. Not this time…”
Pierce plants his palms on the table, standing up from his spot in the corner.
Nate: “This time around, I’m getting my hands around your scrawny neck and choking you until you can barely draw in a gulp of air to sustain yourself. I will make you know what true pain is like once you’ve pissed off a damn grizzly bear. The New England kind especially. This isn’t just a matter of which team has the better crew, this is a damn personal matter by this point. The moment that saw was dug into my forehead, this became a blood war and your lot decided to pick it with the people who have the literal Blood God in their circle. Now you get to meet me again, Jack. The man who’s looking to repay the debt given to him at Gods Among Men.”
A low growl rumbles in his throat.
Nate: “To settle a score, to get retribution for what happened, even with no gold on the line, this is a matter of showcasing that I’m equally as capable as going at it myself when not being teamed up. The prowess I hold in that ring…you could only dream of it if you take a look at my past, Jack. I outlasted several other men to win an opportunity at a championship like Leon Chant did and I got every damn mile out of it to become the top dog. If there’s a lesson that I’ve learned since those fifteen minutes of fame, it’s that the top dogs aren’t always champions. Spike, PRICE, and I may not be champions yet…but I know, just like them, that we will always be the better team. Your win last time out was only aided by the chaotic storm we were tossed into but you don’t stand a damn chance when the slate has been cleaned. This is my yard, these are my waters. This is where I thrive, where I succeed. I’m the goddamned Whaler and you are my prey and will be treated as such when you’re in our fishing waters, boy. Hook, line, and sinker."
Nate lets out one last frustrated exhalation before dropping back down into his seat, hand moving to his bandaged forehead. Frustration is still etched on his face, garnering a friendly pat on the arm from Severin while Ishmael returns to working on his drink, leaving the three fishermen to their current peace.
Ishmael: “....Man what the hell…”
Severin: “Well…can’t say either of us expected this kind of sight.”
Ishmael: “What were you thinking?!”
Nate: “It was for the titles, Ishmael.”
Ishmael: “That doesn’t excuse that!”
Ishmael points a finger at the gauze, eyes wide and mouth agape. Nate lazily swats the fisherman’s hand away, groaning in what sounds like lingering exhaustion.
Ishmael: “How the hell are you going to explain that to Wheeler?”
Nate: “Already did. He put me on indefinite leave for the time being and he honestly looked more shaken up than either of you.”
Severin: “Well, unlike Ishmael’s hot-headedness, I’m more calm in assessing matters like this though again, this development…I did not expect.”
Nate shrugs in turn, pulling himself from the wall and leaning his forearms on the table.
Nate: “Yeah…Spike was bummed out after the whole ordeal and seeing the pain in his eyes fucking hurt. He doesn’t seem the type to get that way considering the legacy he’s paved over the years but that night after our match…you’d think someone had just ripped out part of his soul.”
Ishmael: “Like he has one as a man of violence…”
Severin: “Ish, be nice.”
Ishmael shrugs at Severin before turning his attention back over to Nate who just shakes his head.
Nate: “Anyway…business at hand, I’m the one from Chaos Theory who’s been chosen to go up against a member from the Dead End Express. A measure of retribution for the previous act against Spike and I, which….been itching to wallop one of these southern boys ever since that match. Should’ve been us as champions, not some backwood dwellers who were handed those belts on a fucking silver platter. That’s what irritates me the most about this situation more than anything.”
Nate’s hands tighten into fists, exhaling a frustrated sigh.
Nate: “On top of that, the only reason why they even had the winning edge in our encounter is because those buck-toothed brothers inherited their IQ from that father of theirs who’s far more used to risking his brains for the sake of winning, much like how his sons did the same thing to Spike and I. Well fuck that noise.”
Nate bangs a fist on the table, rattling the glassware which Severin quickly grabs ahold of his own to keep his drink steady as does Ishmael.
Nate: “So now it’s a simple one-on-one, mano-a-mano with Jack. Hey kiddo, next time you’re going to try and end a man’s career, make sure he stays down and isn’t able to walk afterwards. Since I’m clearly still able to walk on my own two feet after I was sent plummeting a good fifteen or so feet, I’m full of nothing but spite and pure hate towards you and the rest of your scraggly family. You took what should’ve been mine and Spike’s yet you still managed to slink away. Not this time…”
Pierce plants his palms on the table, standing up from his spot in the corner.
Nate: “This time around, I’m getting my hands around your scrawny neck and choking you until you can barely draw in a gulp of air to sustain yourself. I will make you know what true pain is like once you’ve pissed off a damn grizzly bear. The New England kind especially. This isn’t just a matter of which team has the better crew, this is a damn personal matter by this point. The moment that saw was dug into my forehead, this became a blood war and your lot decided to pick it with the people who have the literal Blood God in their circle. Now you get to meet me again, Jack. The man who’s looking to repay the debt given to him at Gods Among Men.”
A low growl rumbles in his throat.
Nate: “To settle a score, to get retribution for what happened, even with no gold on the line, this is a matter of showcasing that I’m equally as capable as going at it myself when not being teamed up. The prowess I hold in that ring…you could only dream of it if you take a look at my past, Jack. I outlasted several other men to win an opportunity at a championship like Leon Chant did and I got every damn mile out of it to become the top dog. If there’s a lesson that I’ve learned since those fifteen minutes of fame, it’s that the top dogs aren’t always champions. Spike, PRICE, and I may not be champions yet…but I know, just like them, that we will always be the better team. Your win last time out was only aided by the chaotic storm we were tossed into but you don’t stand a damn chance when the slate has been cleaned. This is my yard, these are my waters. This is where I thrive, where I succeed. I’m the goddamned Whaler and you are my prey and will be treated as such when you’re in our fishing waters, boy. Hook, line, and sinker."
Nate lets out one last frustrated exhalation before dropping back down into his seat, hand moving to his bandaged forehead. Frustration is still etched on his face, garnering a friendly pat on the arm from Severin while Ishmael returns to working on his drink, leaving the three fishermen to their current peace.