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AerialKnight · (09-03-2014)

Date: September 3, 2014
Location: Los Angeles, California

Los Angeles can either be one man's paradise or his own personal hell, depending on which section of it he lives in. One might view LA as nothing other than sunshine, beaches, movies and straight forward paradise. On the other hand, it can be viewed as a deathtrap meant to lure into people into a false sense of paradise before the gangs charge in and shoot them down. Both of these sections pretty much make up the rest of California, believe it or not.

Anyways, Johnathan is roaming along the good side of LA wearing shades and a red suit. One of his hands is shielding his eyes from the sun's blinding rays, which are still hitting his head quite hard. Regardless, he is enjoying his stay here, as it reminds him of a previous federation he was in where he got to fight against morbidly obese man, a carnie that wanted him dead, and a dominatrix that hated all men. He takes a deep breath in and exhales it not too long afterwards.

"Nothing like the smell of sea salt and smog to get me back into the California spirit. Sure, it's nothing compared to overly tanned beings and scantly-clad wenches, but it's the simple things that I miss the most. True, I fought in a completely different federation and I was under "Johnny Heart" then, but I can't help but to think back to those days."

He scoffs.

"But I can't relive these memories for too long, I've got my next match to focus on."

He continues walking until he comes across a local acoustic cover band playing "Hotel California". The band has their guitar case open, showing that they're asking for money to keep performing. Johnathan just smiles and shakes his head before throwing a dollar into their case.

"Yo, thanks man! We'll keep playing just for you!

"Anything for a skilled bard!"

The band shrugs and continues playing as Johnathan walks away from them. He then stops right in front of a bar, placing his hands in his pockets. He then leans against the wall, possibly waiting for someone to come out. Since the front of the bar is well shaded, he removes his sunglasses to take a good, long look at the camera.

"I have to hand it to Sir Lane; not only did he win that match of his and keep his word, but he brought his A-Game to that event and had fun doing it. However, that does not excuse the beatings he took from the false king and the hotblooded creature of vengeance. Once you've got these problems taken care of, maybe, just maybe, will we get another fight together. Highly unlikely though.

Now, as for my next opponent on Madness, Douglas Fuckthatlastname, the one that no one knows about, is apparently a brawler according to an interview on him. That should be enough justification as to why I'm standing right by a bar. But I'm sure you all have no clue as to why I'm here in the first place. Well..."

Just then, the door is shot wide open as two drunken bastards attack each other. They must have been going for a while because one of the fighters has a black eye and a bloody nose while the other fighter has lost two teeth beforehand. They fall to the sidewalk and continue trying to pummel each other to death, spreading the blood everywhere. Johnathan just laughs at these two, since they are seemingly killing themselves for no reason at all.

"Now you have your answer. Brawling is a dishonorable style that only the most unskilled of fighters use when they know that they can't win. So, in order to make it look like they know what they're doing, they decide to beat the other's face in. Honor in fighting should not be swept under the rug so men with no skill can advance."

The two men ignore the man shit talking them and continue beating the hell out of themselves. They stand themselves up and start trying to choke themselves. Johnathan decides to say fuck it and tries to separate themselves from each other.

"Yo dude! Whaf fhe fuck are ya doin'?"

"Can't ya see we're doin' something here?"

Johnathan smiles.

"Clearly. Now if you don't mind, I have to put a stop to whatever it is you're doing. There are people trying to enjoy themselves."

The two drunken men just look at each other and laugh their drunken asses off. Just then, the man with two missing teeth places a hand on his shoulder; all the while trying to keep himself from laughing any harder.

"Look, friend, we don'f fant to hurt ya, so we're jufst going ta send ya off wiffh a warning."

Not handling any more bullshit from drunks, Johnathan takes a couple steps back before hitting him with a discus elbow, sending another tooth flying out of his mouth. He holds his mouth in pain. His now previous opponent is watching from the sidelines, mouth agape at what he just saw.

"Son offth a bitcfth!"

The drunk then throws a wild haymaker at Johnathan, which hits him square in the jaw. Johnathan takes a quick step back as he recoils a bit. The drunk goes for another swing, but Johnathan ducks it and takes him down with a quick spear. He then begins to unload elbows to the face of the drunk who is hopelessly trying to block them. Since Johnathan is so damn stiff, the drunk's only line of defense is rendered useless as he coughs up more blood. His now sober opponent screams at the sight of this and runs off. After Johnathan knocks the twenty-nine toothed drunk out cold, he stands up, brushing blood off of his sleeves and shirt.

"True fighters don't rely on one tactic to do everything. They have to adapt their styles to combat their opponent's. Something that I don't think I have to do in this case. Douglas has yet to say anything to me or to anyone else in the entire roster. This either makes him a mystery, or a coward with something to hide. As you can see, I just beat a drunk after he made an ass out of himself in front of the streets of L.A.; I have no regrets at all about that. Clearly, the only regret that my opponent is showing is having to fight me."

Johnathan crosses arms and laughs a little.

"Stiff bastards like me do not hold back. I'll tell you what, bring your A-Game when you face me, otherwise you'll know what it means to be left battered, bruised, and humiliated."

The cameras turn back towards the comatose drunk for a few seconds longer, just to emphasize the fact that he is not fucking around. The scene fades out after the drunk gets helped up by wanderers.

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