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Danny English · (11-21-2024)

[ooc- feedback welcome]

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My name’s Jake Carter, and I’ve been coming to the Old Hammer Gym for three years now. It’s not a nice place... never was. The walls are caked with layers of graffiti and grime, and the ceiling leaks when it rains, leaving puddles that make the concrete floor slick and treacherous. The weights are mismatched, the dumbbells rusted, and the air reeks of sweat, mildew, and blood that’s seeped so deep into the mats it’s become part of them. The overhead fluorescent lights flicker more than they shine, casting the gym in an eerie, stuttering glow.

This isn’t the kind of gym people put on Instagram. It’s the kind of place you come to when you’ve got nothing left to lose, and no one left to believe in you.

I started coming here because I wanted to prove something to myself, to carve out a little pride in the scraps of my life. But I stayed because of… Danny English.

Danny didn’t just dominate this place; he OWNED it. Not in the literal sense, but in a way that went deeper. He was the king of this crumbling kingdom, and we were his loyal subjects. Whether we wanted to be or not.

When Danny stood in the middle of the ring tonight and said, "I’m signing with XWF" the world seemed to stop.

He said it casually, like he was commenting on the weather, leaning against the ropes with that crooked smirk. There was no boasting, no theatrics. Danny didn’t need those. His words carried weight because HE carried weight.

"Thought I’d leave you lot with something to remember me by" he added, his eyes scanning the room.
The way he said it made my stomach drop.

The others must’ve felt it too. Some shifted uncomfortably where they stood, others looked down at their boots, but none of us said a word. That was Danny’s way. He didn’t have to shout to command the room.

He turned his attention to the ring, and that was all it took. One by one, the others stepped forward, offering themselves up like lambs to the slaughter.

I stayed in the corner of the room as long as I could, watching as Danny tore through everyone.

Marcus went first, the biggest guy among us, a walking slab of muscle who’d always liked to throw his weight around. Danny dismantled him in under a minute. He ducked under Marcus’s wild swings with an almost lazy ease, landing precise blows to the ribs and jaw before finishing him with the Danger Drop.

The sound of Marcus hitting the mat echoed through the gym, louder than it had any right to be, and when he didn’t get back up, something shifted in the air.

The rest followed, one after another. Danny didn’t fight them... he studied them, exposed their flaws, and tore them apart. Each fall seemed to strip away more of the room’s oxygen, until the air was thick with tension and the quiet sounds of groans and labored breathing.

As i dragged the latest sweat-drenched victim of Danny’s from under the bottom rope, I stood in the center of the room, bodies all around me groaning in pain. Danny, an experienced street fighter with a calm demeanor, rolled out of the ring and reached for his bag. Without even glancing my way, he pulled out a small flask and poured himself a cup of steaming tea. While most aspiring wrestlers filled their bags with protein shakes and pounds of meat, Danny's only companions were his trusty flask and a marmite and cheese sandwich that never failed to disgust onlookers. No one dared to question his unorthodox choices, and eventually, we all followed suit. The scent of warm tea and savory marmite filled the air as Danny took a sip from his flask, content in his unique routine.

Danny wiped away the crumbs that had scattered across his lips, savoring the last remnants of his tea before swallowing it down. With a practiced motion, he tucked the flask back into his bag and secured it beneath the ring. His clothing was stained with blood, evidence of the dangerous lifestyle he led. Rolling smoothly back into the ring, Danny called my name, i’d already seen enough.

"Jake" he said, his voice cutting through the low hum of the broken ceiling fans.

I froze. My hands, still halfway wrapped with tape, stopped moving. My heart hammered in my chest, but I couldn’t ignore him. No one ignored Danny.

I climbed into the ring, my legs feeling like they were made of lead. The mat squelched under my boots, sticky with sweat and blood. Danny stood in the center, his broad shoulders relaxed, his expression unreadable. The shadows cast by the flickering lights made him look larger than life, almost otherworldly.

"You’ve been watching all night" he said, tilting his head slightly. "Let’s see if you’ve learned anything."

I raised my fists, trying to steady my breathing. The gym felt impossibly quiet now, the only sound the faint buzz of the lights and the ring groaning as our weight shifted.The others, my fellow trainees watched from the edges of the room.

Danny moved first. He always did. His jab was quick, sharp, and precise, snapping my head back before I even registered it. Pain exploded across my nose, and I stumbled, my vision blurring.
Before I could recover, his knee drove into my gut, folding me in half. I crumpled to the mat, gasping for air, the taste of blood in my mouth.

"Get up, Jake" he said, his voice calm but commanding.

I forced myself to my feet, every muscle in my body screaming in protest. I swung a wild, desperate punch, but he caught it effortlessly, twisting my arm behind my back and shoving me down again.

"Sloppy." he said, shaking his head. "You’re better than this. Or at least you should be"

He let me go, and I stumbled forward, barely managing to stay upright.

"Let’s finish this" he said, his tone shifting, sharper now, more final.

He grabbed me before I could react, his arms locking me into the setup for his finisher, the Danger Drop. I tried to struggle, but his grip was like iron.

His grip on the back of my head was suffocating, his blood-stained shoulder pressed against my neck like a razor-sharp blade. Without warning, he took a running start and leapt, carrying me with him. Time seemed to slow down as I watched him soar through the air, his face twisted into a demonic grin. Just before impact, my mind went blank in a burst of white-hot t agony as our bodies collided with a bone-shattering force.

Darkness enveloped me, a cloak of pain wrapping around me like an embrace from hell itself.

When I came to, the gym was silent. The air felt heavy, oppressive, as I blinked up at the flickering lights. My head throbbed, and every inch of my body ached, but I managed to lift my head just enough to take in the scene around me.

The others were sprawled across the gym, some slumped against the wall, others lying on the floor. None of them looked like they were in any condition to move.

Danny was already dressed. His black hoodie slung casually over his broad shoulders as he strode confidently towards the door. His steps were fluid and effortless as he gracefully stepped over Marcus, Kieran, and the Jones Twins before finally gliding over me, barely acknowledging my presence.

As he reached the shuttered door, he paused with one hand resting on the chain. The muscles in his arm flexed slightly under the weight of the heavy metal links. A mischievous grin played at the corners of his mouth, hinting at some unknown secret or inside joke. It was a look that made my heart skip a beat and left me wondering what thoughts were running through Danny's mind.

"You’ll thank me for this someday" he said, looking back at us with that same maddening smirk.
Then the shutters came down with a final, echoing clang, and he was gone, leaving us in the wreckage of his final masterpiece.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode The last night at Old Hammers
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