Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When I was a kid I would sometimes fall asleep in the back of the car. But I would never wake up in the car. My mom made sure to carefully pick me up and bring me to my room without waking me up. It made me feel loved and safe.

Now when that happens and you're a kid it's not weird. But when you are an adult and you wake up in a place you didn't fall asleep in is not fine and is very concerning. 

Yesterday I fell asleep in my comfortable bed after a long work day. Today I woke up in a dirty alley. I didn't panic. I was to shaked to panic. After a few minutes I carefully stand up and take a better look around. For an alley it's not bad. It's not clean but you don’t expect an alley to be clean. It looks like city workers have been here with in the last year to pick up the garbage and the building still looks like they have people in them. 

I slowly walk out of the alley. I let out a prayer of thinks underneath my breath. I never sleep with my clothes on but yesterday I was so tired after work I simply fell into bed without changing clothes. I walk out onto an empty sidewalk. The sun is barely up and there is not a soul in sight.

I pick a directions and walk. I’m not going to figure out where I am by standing around. The city around me is big. It's like diet New York. brick building  with trees planted along the road. It's a nice neighborhood. Eventually I make it out of the neighborhood. The residential building fading away and commercial buildings taking their place. 

But something is wrong. Everything looks vintage. From the sighs in the store windows to the advertisements everything looks both old but at the same time new. They don’t have the wear and tear that you would expect from something from the late 80s. The longer I walk the more uncomfortable I become.

Time passes and more people are out. More cars are driving by and they are all old. I start to walk faster. I turn a corner and up the street is a new stand. I ran to it, no. My legs burn as my body protests the sudden burst of speed.

I slow down as I get close to the news stand. My lungs burn as I stop in front of the stand. A tired looking woman mans the stand. She sits behind the desk with a large cup of coffee and a cigarette. I grab the first newspaper I see and look at the front page  

I feel light headed as I read the headline of the Metro sun. Mike Hagger, from wrestler to mayor?’ and underneath the headline is the date September 14 1988. I stare at the newspaper for a few seconds completely baffled. How? Did I get teleported in my sleep? Is this some elaborate prank? 

“Are you going to buy the paper or just stare at it?” the woman asks and then takes a long drag from her cigarette. I look at her and then back at the newspaper. I walk away without paying and the woman doesn't try to stop me. She probably wasn't paid enough to try.

I walk for about twenty minutes. I wasn't sure if the lady had a phone in the stand to call the cops on me and I wasn't going to find out. When I finally felt comfortable I took a turn into an alley and sat down to read the news.

Most of the paper is about the upcoming mayoral election with pages reviewing the platforms of each candidate. It's a bit dry but that's to be expected with  local politics. But I don’t really care about most of the candidates. The only candidate I care about is  Mike Hagger, the man I know will become mayor.

He is a pro wrestler which in this world is a real sport. He claims he will clean up the street and he has a daughter. Its has more about his policy but that doesn't matter to me. I just wanted to make sure that he is who I thought he was. I’m in Final Fight and by association the Street Fighter universe. Now what the fuck do I do now?

I have to ID. hell i'm not even from the United States! I have no home or money. I’m a hobo and winter is coming. I need to find a place to stay. I lay the paper on the ground and let out a shake sigh.

I will get through this. I will survive.

It's really hard to get a job when you're homeless. Every time I get a job application I have to put down my address or phone number. I don’t have a phone and I don’t think the dumpster in an alley is a veiled place of residence. So I’m shit out of luck. Out of luck for finding a legal job. Metro city has plenty of opportunities for people who are willing to get their hands dirty.  And after a few weeks on the street I am more than willing to get dirty.

The Mad Gear Gang is expanding and is in need of hard workers. Hell I wasn't even looking to join them when they offered me a job! I was in one of the few homeless shelters in the city. It is October now and the nights are starting to get cold now. I bet we could get our first snowfall any day now.

I was sitting by myself in a little cafeteria eating a small bowl of chicken noodle soup when a slimy looking guy took the seat in front of me. His hair is slicked back with a genesis amount of oil and he looks at me with a smile that screams ‘I want to scam you’ the man leans forward. “I was asking around for people that are willing to work. And I was told you were looking for a job.” the man tells me.

The guy talks like a used car salesman. But I do need some money. I nod as I eat a spoonful of soup. “Well I have a job for you. As long as you don’t ask too many questions.”  the man says, sounding more sinister than he probably intended. 

I could use the money but this guy is 100% trying to get me to work for a gang. They could give me a small job and if it goes bad they would use me as the fall guy. But If I do go to jail they do give you three meals and a bed. The homeless shelter works in a first come first served system. No one is guaranteed a bed and if the shelter is full when you ask for a room then your shit outta luck.

Maybe one job would be fine. Do something for them, get a bit of money and then I can go back to looking for a real job. “Alright what do you want me to do?” I ask. The man's smile grows  wide.

“We have a package that we need to transport and we can’t get it through the mail. We need to get across Metro city by tomorrow night." The man pulled out a business card from his pocket. It says White and sons construction consultant Bill Wise . “Come to this address at 11:00 tomorrow morning. We will discuss your pay tomorrow.” the man says.

I put the card in my pocket. “I will Mr Wise.” I say respectful.

Wise stands up. “I hope this works well for both of us Jay.” the man says before walking away.

The job was done without a hitch. I went to White and Sons office in the morning. Got the package, delivered it and got paid. And Plaid I was. A essay 150$ for a few hours of walking. Now with a pay like that I can do it just one time and Mr. Wise was more than willing to continue giving me packages to deliver.

Over the next few months I would take on a delivery every other week. I never asked what was in the packages and I don’t really care what's in them. The only thing that matters was not getting caught by the cops and getting paid.

After my second month working for the Gang Mr. Wise decided to bring me into the fold officially. This is when I found out that the gang was in fact the Mad Gear Gang. Which isn't super surprising. They are the largest gang in the city and a gang of that size does need grunt workers like me. But it is a little concerning. Hagger was just elected a few weeks ago and I know what he is going to do to the Mad Gear Gang. but I need the money.

The only thing I needed to do to get accepted was have someone recommend me. And get a Tattoo to show my loyalty. The tattoo was probably the worst thing to happen to me since waking up in this world. I spent too hours in a chair getting a tattoo of the Mad Gear Gangs logo on my upper arm. But I gritted my teeth and got through it. I am officially a member of the Mad Gear Gang.

Being part of the gang has let me get more lucrative jobs. I even have enough money to get my own apartment! Yes it may be small and yes I’m pretty sure that if a building inspector checked the building they would condemn it. But I have a place of my own! 

But with more important packages comes more security. I’m moving large sums of money and drugs now you can’t just let one guy move it. Make them an easy target so I never deliver alone. Much to my dismay.

“You have to be the most boring person in the gang Jay.” Poison says. “You never go out to the bars with everyone. Hell I don’t think I have ever seen you talk about anything other than business with anyone in the gang. And whenever we are driving you turn the radio on and pretend I don’t exist.” Poison says, sounding a little annoyed.  I grunt in response.

She is right. I do my job and go home. Most of the police may be in the gangs pocket for now but Hagger is changing that and I don’t want to be at one of the gangs bars when they get busted. And the people in the gangs aren't the kind of people I like to spend time with.

I turned the truck left off the turnpike and into the daks. Shortly after I joined the gang. They got me fake documents for me to use. ID, drivers license, the works. The only thing they couldn't get me was a social security number. The Mad Gear Gang isn’t ready to fuck around with the federal government. Yet.

I drive through the docks with a truck full of cargo.  After a couple of uneventful minutes we made it to the warehouse. According to official documents l’m picking up a load of industrial adhesive. But in reality I’m picking a shit ton of cocaine for the gang to sell. 

The warehouse door opens and I back in. I jump out of the truck and stretch my back. I really hate driving but it makes me money. A strong looking man walked up to me. He looks like the only workout he does is lifting heavy things at work.

“Sigh this.” The man hands me a bundle of paperwork and a pen. He speaks with a thick Italian accent. He sounds like a Mafia thug.

“This is a lot more paperwork than normal. Did something happen?” I ask. The dock worker shrugs his shoulders.

“new regulations. It's annoying but we will get into some deep shit if we don’t do it.” The man sounded slightly annoyed with the extra work he now needed to give out. 

I take my bundle of papers and sit down at a table close to some shelves. I  place the bundle of paperwork on the table. Careful not to touch the handgun that's sitting on it. I grumble to myself about the lack of gun safety. It's not the only gun I see laying around in the warehouse. Hell it's not the only safety violation I can see! The tall shelves next to the table are over full. I can see the shelves sagging with all the tools and boxes stored on them. 

“Holly shit. Who did you piss off to get all of that?” Poison asks, pointing at the paperwork. I sigh as I write my name on yet another form.

“Pissed off George Bush apparently.” I grumble. This was the last stop for the day and of course it can't be quick. But it's ok paperwork is not the worst thing in the world. As I flip to the next page I hear some rumbling. I look up and see some of the other workers moving towards the front door. With weapons in hand.

Poison face is cold and calculating. Any humor from a second ago is gone now replaced with a calm violent intent of a career criminal. She pulls out a knife from her pocket and scans the room. A few loud bangs echo outside of the warehouse. I carefully grab the gun from the table as a course of murmurs as the workers prepare for the worst.

“Do you even know how to use a gun?” Poison says while looking at the door. I shrug my shoulders.

“In theory.” I said. Poison snorts and shakes her head. This is the first time I have ever held a gun before. But I know if you point it at someone and pull the trigger people die. I think I can manage it. maybe.  

The banging gets louder and louder until it's right on top of us. Then it stops for a few seconds. I can feel the tension grow in the room as everyone waits for the other shoe to drop. The front door explodes off its hinges and flies into the crowd. 

I fall backwards as the fight begins. People start yelling out orders as the fight intensifies. I scramble to my feet and doge the body of a man that was flanged at me. Standing a couple feet away from me is the Mayor of Metro City Mike Haggar.

Haggar is the biggest person I have ever seen. He is a wall of muscle and I don’t want to know what he could do to me if he got his hands on me. Poison is standing there in complete shock. I garbed her and pull her away. “We need to go now!” I shout as we run down between the shelves.

By the sounds of the shouting the fight isn't going our way. I can hear Haggar's boots pound on the floor as he chases us and he is catching up to us rapidly. I feel the adrenaline flow throw my body as I push myself forward. As I run something changes. My head becomes eerily clear. I turn and look behind at Haggar. I point the gun on instincts that I didn't know I had but not at Haggar.

Something pulls the gun towards the shelf legs. I pull the trigger. The bullet destroys the shelf leg. The gun flies out of my hand I curse as a sharp pain erupts from my wrist. Not a smart idea to shoot a gun with one hand.  Poison grabs me and pulls forward as the shelf begins to fall. 

I hear Haggar yell as the shelf falls on top of him. The sound of fighting is drowned out as the shelf crashes and knocks over the other shelf. We run to the back door and swing it open. We can still hear the fighting but it's more distant now but it's not our problem we are just deliver guys.

“We need to get in a car. Find me something big and hard!” Poison yells. I look around trying to find a rock to smash a window at the same time Poison and running around doing the same thing. I spent a full minute looking around for a rock before I looked back at the warehouse and saw a pile of broken pallets.

I swear at myself as I run over to the pile and rip off a chunk of wood. “Poison!” I shout. She turns and looks at me. I throw her the piece of wood and she catches it easily. Poison walks up to the driver's side door and with one solid swing smashes the car window.

The car alarm blares as Poison unlocks the door and gets in, she unlocks the passenger side door and by the time I get in she is already hot-wiring the car. “Come on come on you bitch stat.” Poison mumbles to herself. Poison lets out a little cheer as the engine comes to life.

Poison slams down on the gas pedal. The car speeds up as we leave the parking lot. As we pass the front of the warehouse I see two people. One blond and one brownette. I breathe a sigh of relief as we speed down the road and onto the turnpike.  “Alright what do we do now?” I ask Poison.

She shrugs her shoulders as we turn onto the highway. “Keep a low profile for now. One of us will be getting an angry message on the answering machine asking us why the cocaine wasn't bright in.” 

I nod. “We could stay at my place then. It's close by.” I offer. Poison lets out a tired laugh.

“Sure. We can do that. God that was a shit show.” Poison says and I have to agree. I hope to god that I don’t see Hagger again. I don’t think that shelf killed him and I'm pretty sure that it hurt and I know he will remember the person who dropped it on him. 

I wish I had an easier job.

I stumble into my apartment and fall onto the couch with a sigh. It may smell like rotten wood but it's home and I love it. “This place is tiny.  What the hell is that smell?” poison says disgust.

“Don’t blame me, it smelt like that when I moved in. you will get used to it.” I told her. I turn over on my stomach and crawl forward towards the landline on the table. I fiddle with it for a scard before I hit the right button ‘no new messages’ the landline says. “Looks like the boss isn't on our ass yet.” I say as I roll over on my side. 

The weird feeling I got at the warehouse still hasn't left. Instead it has grown steadily. When I look around the living room my mind is filled with intrusive thoughts. The top right leg of the table has a crack in it,’ ‘the bottom of the window frame is rotten and weak,’ and when I look up at Poison. ‘She broke her arm some time in the past. It would break easy if I hit it right.’  a shiver runs up my spine.

“So what's the protocol when we get busted?” I ask poison.

“We are on our own for now.” poison says, sounding a little bit annoyed. “We will have to wait for the cops to release a list of suspects to the public. When ever that happens. If we are on it we're screwed. If not we call Mr Wise and regroup.” poison says.

“So we have no idea when we are going to get our next job then.” I say. Poison sighs and nods. That is a problem. I have saved up enough money for this month but If I don’t get any pay for a month I will be back on the streets. 

But even if we aren't on a most wanted list we could still run into Hagger and his merry band of crime fighters. And we don’t have concealed carry laws so I can just get a gun. If I did, a cop pulled me over and I could be screwed. 

I need to learn how to fight.

I sit up. “poison , do you know where I could learn how to fight?” I ask. Poison looks a little bit surprised.

“Sure I know a few guys. But I didn't take you for a fighter.” poison says. I nod my head. A predator smile grows on her face. “But I warn you it won't be a walk in the park. So when you black and blue after your first training session you can’t tell me I didn't warn you.” Poison says with a playful tone. 

I can feel my forehead get sweaty. “ I know it's going to be hard. But I don’t want to be completely useless in a fight.” I said. Poison smiles become more caring.

“I know how that feels. To be powerless, to feel like you're weighing your friends down. I will hook you up with a teacher. He will run you into the ground but by the end you won't have to worry about feeling helpless.” Poison says, sounding like she is thinking of some less than great memories.

“Thank you. Really this means a lot.” I thank her. Poison checks became red as she laughs.

“No problem. But you better be ready for the hardest few weeks of your life .” Poison says with a very serious tone. I know it's not going to be easy. And if I’m going to be trained by how I thank I am then I will be in for a would of hurt.    

Chapter Text

I let out a shaky breath as I put up my guard and prepared for the next attack. “Come on kid, are you going to fight or are you going to be a punching bag?” Rolento goads me. I don't take the bait. I have been punched enough times on the mouth to know not to. The side of Rolento's mouth tugs upward as he begins his assault.  

Rolento goes from standing in front of me a few feet away to throwing a devastating punch against my guard in under 2 seconds. He hits me hard and he hits me fast. He starts with a flurry of quick jabs to test my guard but I have learned his patterns by now and I’m able to deflect them.

When his jabs don’t work he goes for my legs. I do my best to keep up with Rolento. I match him kick for kick but I know I can’t keep going on like this. I just need an opening to strike back.

Rolento’s offense keeps getting faster, alternating between kicks and punches. ‘He hesitates a little when he kicks with his left leg’ something deep within my mind tells me. Rolento throws more jabs and then a kick with his left leg. Just like he has done many times already but this time I strike back.

I threw my kick early, deflecting Rolento's leg away in the air leaving him open for attack. Rolento is off-balance from my kick. I threw another kick which was just enough to take him off his feet. Rolento rolls out of the way and back onto his feet. Before I am able to put my guard back up Rolento hits me with a strong kick to the stomach. Knocking the wind out of me.

I was knocked to the ground. I curl up into a ball as I try to catch my breath. “You are far too slow to be a real threat.” Rolento says as he walks towards me. He squats down. I look up at him. “But you are learning fast. You know where to hit me and when. I will make a soldier out of you.” Rolento says with a determination as strong as steel.

Rolento turns away from me. “Training is done for today. Your next training day will happen after your next shipping run.” Rolento says. I stand up and by the time I’m on my feet Rolento is already walking away from me. Rolento leaves me the only person left at the construction zone. 

I slowly walk to my old beat up car. I sit in the driver's seat and the adrenaline leaves my body. My body begins to ache. Poison was right about this being hard. Every day that I’m not doing a delivery I’m with Rolento getting my ass beat. 

I don’t know how Poison convinced Rolento to train me. He is one of the gang's top enforcers. His experience as a Red Beret has turned the Mad Gear Gang into a well oiled machine. And now I get to learn from him. 

I put my keys into my car and thankfully it started immediately. I turn onto the empty street and drive carefully. The last thing I need is having the cops pull me over. 

The Gang has its fingers in a lot of pie’s. Construction being one of the biggest the Gang use there many shell corporations that they use to build things that other shell corporations buy and use for Gang activities like money laundering. In my case, training.

I pull into the small parking lot next to my apartment building. I stumble out of my car and make my way into the apartment. I slowly make my way up four flights and by the time I get to my apartment my legs feel like they are as stiff as wood.

I took off my clothes and threw them onto the couch. I hobble my way into my shower hoping that the hot water would give me some form of relief from the aches and pain of training. I turn the shower on to the hottest seating. I didn't wait and jumped in immediately, I winced at the sudden change in temperature. But I get used to it fast.

I look down at my body as the water runs down my shoulders carrying crusty bits of dry blood into the tub below. Rolento left me covered in bruises like he does every training day. They never fully heal and my training days are too close together for them to heal and Rolento says that If I want the bruise to go away I should try not to get hit.

But the bruise isn't the only thing new. When I woke up in this world I wasn't exactly an athletic guy. I like ice cream and cookies a little too much. I didn't really workout which made me a little bit chubby. But now after a half a year of living with less and training that chubbiness is starting to go away.

I still have a fair amount of fat but I can see the muscles underneath it slowly develop. In a t-shirt I actually look strong now my arms have gotten a lot bigger. Maybe when I start to make some more money I will cut down and have visible muscles for the first time in my life.

After a wonderful half hour in the shower I reluctantly turn off the water and step out of the shower and dry myself. I walk to my bedroom and fall into bed. My body sinks into the bed. It's an old mattress I found at a second hand store. Whenever I lay on it it sinks by a few inches. It's bad for my back. I know that but a new mattress is way too expensive.

But tight now I don’t care about how shity my mattress is. I have work tomorrow and the gang isn't going to let me take a day off.

I woke up the next morning still feeling sore and stiff. I roll out of bed and slowly make my way through my morning routine. First I have a glass of milk then I have something easy to cook like leftovers or some freezer chicken nuggets. Then I have another glass of milk and an hour nap before heading out for work.   

I make it out of my apartment ten before nine and begin my morning commute to my perfectly legal job. By then thirty I finally made it through traffic and to a small warehouse in the industry district.  

Officerly Today I will be transporting meat to three stores around town. Unofficially I’m moving drugs to distributors who are either ‘independent contractors’ or other members of the Mad Gear Gang for some of the more expensive products.

I walk into the docking area where one of the ‘Millmen meatpacking ‘ is ready to go. “I have never seen you come early for a job. You know that? Poison say sounding very unimpressed. I shrug my shoulders.

“They don’t pay me to be early, they pay me to deliver things.” I say. Poison rolls her eyes as I walk up to the driver's side door and open it. 

“They might not pay you to get here early, it does help if you want to get off early.” Poison says as she gets into the passenger's side door. I start the truck and pull out of the warehouse.

“Get off early and do what? Lesion to the radio? Read a book? Because that's the only things I do after work. And you don’t have to drive with me, that's your decision.” I said.

“I stick with you because you're not a creep. Unlike a lot of our coworkers.” Poison lament's. I had seen it first hand. poison was not treated well. Being a trans person in the early 90s is not  easy. Most people think it's some kind of weird fetish or mental illness. And  most of the gang members are young angry men who are not very open minded. 

I can see how it affects her. We have both heard the comments others make about her. She has her ways of dealing with it in ways that work for her. Witch is ignoring it most of the time or threatening violence other times. 

Traffic is bad in Metro City. The only time the street really clear out is after midnight otherwise you souled expect to get stuck behind someone. But I don’t let some bad traffic stop my deliveries. People want their drugs and I am happy to oblige. 

We pull into the docking bay of the final store. A little corner store on the bad side of town. I have delivered to this store plenty of times in the past. The owner is easy to work with and he never asks too many questions. 

The owner is at the dock waiting for us. “Jay! Poison! Just the people I want to see!” The owner, Gabe, says friendly as ever with his hand outstretched. I shake his hand and smile.

“Gabe! It has been too long.  We got plenty of meat for you. But I bet you will go through it fast. You always do.” I say.  Gabe gives me a knowing smile as I give him the paperwork. Gabe has been a reliable distributor for years at this point. Gabe's face turns serious. He leans in and whispers to me.

“I need to talk to you in private.” Gabe says anxiously. What the hell has Gabe anxious about? I don’t think he has had a single problem. At least since I started to deliver to him. I nod and follow Gabe deeper into the store. Poison can handle the order while I talk with Gabe.

Gabe leads me into his office. Gabe sits down behind his desk ,which is covered by paper and binders, and pulls out a cigarette from a small red package. He offered me one but I declined. I’m pretty sure if I took it my mom would travel to this world and kick my ass.  Gabe takes a long drag from the cigarette and sits back in his chair.

“There have been men scouting out the store.” Gabe says, sounding slightly paranoid. “They have been coming around once every other week. I don’t know who they are with but I know that they're up to something.” Gabe takes another drag from his cigarette and rummages through the mess of paperwork on his desk and pulls out a picture and hands it to me. 

The picture shows three mean looking men standing across from the store. “So these guys have been hanging around sizing up the store?” I said. Gabe nods. I take another look at the picture. The three men all wore large leather jackets with patches sewn into them.  Maybe they are part of a biker gang? I know the Hells Angels have a chapter in Metro city but I bet there are more biker gangs in the city.

I put the picture in my pocket . “I will take this up with my boss. I’m sure we can find a way to deal with these guys.” I say.  Gabe nods his head.

“Thank you. I don’t think I could afford a break in right now.” Gabe says graciously. I’m pretty sure he could survive a break in. unless he is gambling away all the drug money he is making. I give Gabe a small wave as I leave his office.

Most of the truck had been done by the time I got back to the dock.  Poison was helping one of the young employees backup a skid when she saw me. She nods and I wait for her to finish up. She walks up to me and rolls her shoulders. “So what did Gabe have to say?” Poison says. I take the picture out of my pocket and hand it to her. 

“Gabe says that these guys have been sizing up the shop for the last month or so. He would like us to figure out who they are and deal with them.” I explain. Poison looks at the picture with a analytical gaze. After a few more seconds she handed me the picture.

“Could be a few different gangs. I can’t tell for sure from the picture but from what I can tell they are some small-time guys, nothing to really worry about.” poison says in a blowsy tune.  So there shouldn't be anything to worry about then. I would take a few punks any day of the week of Hagger.

“But we can talk about this later. We just got the last skid off the truck and I got a date tonight so let's get out of here.” poison says, sounding antsy. I won't make her wait. We walked to the front of the truck. If we are lucky we could miss the after work traffic.

“Don’t move boy.” a gruff voice demands from behind me before I can open the truck door.. Turn and do what he says. As I turn I see him in the corner of my eye. His knife was shining in the sunlight just a few inches from my back. ‘His wrist is weak. Broken a few years ago.’

To get into the building from the back you have to go through the dock with which my truck is mostly blocking. But it does leave enough room for one person to get by. I pass by the truck without a problem. As the man with the knife passes by the entrance too things happen in seconds

1 I spin around.

2 I grab the man by his hand and slam it against the wall.

“FUCK.” the man screams as his wrist breaks against the wall. The knife drops to the ground and with a quick kick I knock it back into the store. I don’t let go of the man's hand as he falls down. I pull him up to his feet and then drive my knee against the man's stomach.. I can feel his organs move as my knee strikes the man’s stomach. 

The man falls to the ground with the grace of a bag of potatoes. The man was completely out of it. I don't think he will be able to get up again anytime soon. This is just one guy, there will be more. “Poison!” I yell. Poison is a good fighter but that doesn't matter if you get ganged up on.

“Over here!” I hear Poison yell from the other side of the truck.  I run around the truck ready for a fight instead I show a very pissed off Poison and very hurt men.

Poison his crotch on top of one of the men with a long blood covered knife hovering just above the man's right eye. “Alright you little shit stain! Who do you work for and if you don’t lie I mite not cut your eye out!” Poison yells out a threat that I know she will go through with.

The man is on the verge of tears as he stammers out an answer. “W-wer with the Young s-s-street Gang! We thought you were just a normal truck I swear! We just wanted the truck and some money from the store! Please don’t kill me!” the man cries. Poison lets out a long annoyed sigh.

Poison stands up and shakes her head.  “Stupid dumb fucks getting in way over there heads  and we are going to have to report this to the boss and that means I’m going to be late for my date! Fuck” poison kicks the man repeatedly as she spoke. Poison looks at me looking tired and annoyed. “Let's go. Maybe if we are fast I will only be a few minutes late.” Poison says as walk up to the truck door.  

There is no reason to stay any longer. I walk around and get into the driver's seat.  Maybe Poison was right. I should have gotten up early today then we would have missed this mess. Maybe I will start getting up early in the morning. Maybe.

My training with Rolento has gotten more intense since my fight at the corner store a month ago. I have continued to improve and slowly training sessions by training. I have pushed Rolento to try more.

Every time we train I get an extra hit in. I put him on the deafness. And finally after many months of training I get to put him on his ass. 

Our fight is fast and intense. Every punch and kick we throw is blocked or deflected by the other. Neither of us can get the upper hand. Rolento's face Is cold and calculating. There is no more banter from him. He is a silent killer now.

Rolento throws out a few probing kicks at my legs. I doge them without breaking a sweat. I throw out my own probing sriktes, a few punches and kicks. I need to lure him in and make him think he has got me. But Rolento is too experienced to let me bait him easily. I will need to take a big risk to make him open up.

I throw out a few more punches. Very telegraph punches that Rolento knows are bait. But I keep doing it. But one of my punches throw moves just a bit far, leaving me just a little too open. The opening was just too good for Rolento to let pass. 

Rolento ducks underneath my punch is about to strike me with a brutal uppercut. But that was part of my plan. I lean far back and doge his uppercut. I grab his arm into a bear hug.Rolento hits me with a savage punch the the kidneys. I grit my teeth as pain spreads through my body like a shock wave.

I pull my head back and smash it against Rolento’s nose. He reals back as blood pours from it . I do it again and again. Both our faces are covered in his blood. Before I hit him with one more headbut I see something in Rolento’s eyes. They are cold and dead and that nothing that I have done to him will really hurt him.

In under a second Rolento throws me off him and into the ground and slams a foot against my stomach. I curl up into a ball as Rolento squats over me. “ Poison asked me to train you into something approaching competence. I think you can handle yourself now.” Rolento says. He stands up.

“I won't be in the Mad Gear Gang for much longer. I will be gone by the end of the year. You will have to continue improving by yourself.” Rolento says as he turns around. “Our training is over.”  Rolento walks away from me without another word.

So that's it then? I’m not at Akams level but I guess I will just have to live with it for right now.. I slowly get up. I’m not satisfied I’m not strong enough. Hagger isn't even one of the strongest fighters in the world and he can crush steel with his bare hand.  

If I’m going to keep living a life of crime I’m going to have to keep getting stronger and If I’m being honest I’m not going to improve if I stay in the Mad Gear Gang. 

Hagger and his do gooders are dismantling the Gang at a concerning rate and I don’t intend to stick around to fall with them. I need to leave Metro City.    

Chapter Text

‘Shit is going sideways’ Poison thinks as she drives past the docks. Turns out Heggar’s little raid at the docks four months ago wasn't a one off thing. Heggar and his merry band of do-gooders has been fucking there shit up ever since. They have been destroying safe houses, arresting crooked cops, and taking out their distributors.

The boss has locked himself in his pent house with a full detail of guards with him 24/7. Hell the Gang isn't really a thing anymore. The underboss has split up the tertiary and the boss can’t stop them from his pent house. 

She can see the writing on the wall. She isn't going down with a sinking ship. She is going to leave Metro City for a little while, keep a low profile for maybe a year and then come back when things are a little more stable.  

So why is she driving up to Jay’s apartment instead of leaving Metro City?  Because he is some she can trust not to fuck her over that's why.

The Mad Gear Gang may have paid her well enough to live a decent life that doesn't mean she trusted most of her co-workers. Most of them are ether, assholes, creeps, or unreliable. Jay on the other hand isn't going to steal her shit or fuck her over is some other way. He can watch her back and she can watch his back. And then when the dust settles they can go their separate ways if they want too.

She gets out of her car and quickly walks into the apartment building. She walks up the creaky stares up to Jay's flat.  When she knocks on the door it pops open. Quietly she moves into the apartment. There is no sign of struggle. It's surprisingly clean the last time she was here it was rather cluttered.

She walks into Jay’s apartment. “Jay, are you here?” she calls out. She is met with silence. She steps into the kitchen and opens the cupboards. They are completely empty, not a single thing in all but one of them. The one expansion is a cupboard full of dishes. The fridge is just as empty. 

She leans against the sink. “Shit” she utters. Looks like Jay had the same idea as he did. He just happened to be a little bit faster than her. 

As she walks out of the apartment she wonders where he could have gone. He never talked about his family. Maybe he has a friend that is willing to help him. But she doesn't have time to ponder. She has to get out of the city.

Los Angeles is not the first city I would have picked to run away to. I could think of plenty of better cities but sadly it was the cheapest Greyhound to the west coast and I don’t really want to pay for another ticket to go north.  So here I am, stuck in the city of angles.

It didn't take me long to develop a burning hatred of the sun during my first day in LA. It's unrelenting and even the shade from buildings or trees don’t help much. I would take the cold of a Canadian winter over this any day of the week.

I’m back living on the streets again but unlike the first time around I have a bit of spending money. With the money I have I wont need to worry about food for right now which will give me more time to look for a job. 

Walking around LA is not a nice experience. Unlike Metro City which has a large train network that makes getting around easy. LA expects you to have a car and if you don’t your shit out of luck. There are some buses that have routes around the city but not enough for a city the size of LA.

I spend most of the day walking around trying to find a job and a place to stay. I need to find somewhere where I can sleep at night but that means I won't be living anywhere nice. A homeless guy sleeping on a bench is going to have the cops called on him in Beverly Hills. So I need to find somewhere that is poor enough that people won’t chase me out immediately but isn't so poor that I am going to get mugged in bored daylight.

I found my spot a lot earlier than I expected. It's under a small bridge, covered by Graffiti both artful and derogatory. It will work for now but I’m not going to stay for right now. There is still plenty of time to look for a job.

One of the good things about the past that I live in is that there's no Linkedin to deal with. When you look for jobs at this time you get an application, you fill it out, the boss calls your references and your old boss and if they like you they hire you. But in the future they will pry into every part of your life. 

I spend the second half of my day finding stores and picking up job applications. I put each one in my backpack. I only pick applications from small stores. I know that small stores will look over my lack of references or former employment. They will probably be happy that someone over 18 is applying to care. 

I have collected ten forms from corner stores and small grocery stores when I found an application that really caught my eye. I was looking at a local arna to see if they wanted a grounds keeper when I found something that I may actually like to do. 

On their posted board, right next to an ad for a local church Sunday brunch is an ad for a local business. ‘NWA Los Angeles is looking for fighters! Come to the Lou Thez arena for try outs on June 13 at 2:30’ I look at the poster with an intense stare.

I had honestly forgotten about wrestling. I had so many other things to worry about that I never checked to see if wrestling was on in the newspaper TV guide.  I loved wrestling in my old world. Nothing better than too sweaty men slapping the shit out of each other for twenty minutes. But in my old world pro wrestling was just theater. Just as real as Cats or Wicked.

But in this would its as real as any other combat sport. Just look at Zangief, he is the strongest fighter in all of the Soviet Union. Heggar, that son of a bitch was a pro wrestler before he decided to kick the Mad Gear Gang’s ass. 

I can make it in this league. The National Wrestling Association  was on its last legs in the early 90s due to World championship wrestling leaving it with no TV deal and no stars. I would bet that it's similar in this world too.

I unzip my backpack and take out one of the applications and pencil. I write down the date and time on the back of the paper. With my training I know I can hold my own in a fight. I may have to change my style to fit the rules. The try out is a week away, I am going to join, I am going to make the cut, I am going to be a pro wrestler.

I spend the week making myself at home underneath the bridge. It's windy but I have been able to scrounge together some scrap wood to shield me from the wind. When the day finally comes I wake up hours earlier than normal. It's really annoying. I need to rest but every time I try to sleep again my heart beats like a jackhammer. 

Eventually I do get a little more sleep but not nearly as much as I would like. I make my way to the arena, hyper aware of any danger. The last thing I want is getting hurt because a driver wasn't paying attention when I crossed the street.  

By the time I make it to the Arena I am already sweaty. I hate walking to work, I am fine with getting sweat doing work. I open the front door and follow a sign that points to another sign which leads to the gym where the tryouts are being held.

The gym is filled with a mix of giant muscle men and smaller toned guys. There are four rings set up, each ring is surrounded by blue crash pads. On the other side of the room is a line up in front of a scale. A sign above the scale says ‘you must be weighed before tryouts’ I get in line which to my surprise goes by rather fast.

When it's my turn to get weighed I slip my shoes off and step on the scale. The number goes up and up, 110, 130, 160 and finally 183. There is a little card on the scales that tells me that anyone who is below 220 pounds is considered a Junior Heavy weight which means that I get in the line to the left.  

I take one of the last seats in the junior Heavy weight section and think about how weird weight classes are in pro wrestling. There are only two weight classes in Pro Wrestling. Two! Boxing has like ten classes so no one is fighting anyone too much bigger than them. But in wrestling it's a-ok as long as you are both under or over an arbitrary weight limit.  

My train of thought is broken when a loud clap echoes in front of me. A man in a black shirt that has a gold NWA logo on the right side of his chest. stands at the front of the Junior heavy weight group. “My name is Scott. I will be running these tryouts today, I will be paring you off for sparing. These two rings." he points behind himself.  “You will do your best to pin or submit your appointment. If the spar hits the five minute mark the ref will decide who had the better performance and declare them the winner.” Scott says with authority.  

Scott points out four people. The two pairs get into the wing and after being checked by the ref the bell rings. The fights are messy and frantic, arm strokes, elbows, lariat, and on the fairest Ring a suplex which ends the match. We clap as the two hopefuls leave the Ring.

The matches go by at a steady pass. Most of the matches last between 3 and a half minutes to 4 minutes. A few hit the five minute mark. My confidence slowly grows as I watch the others fights, I know I’m faster then most of them and I bet I take whatever they throw at me. And with my weird weakness sensing ability I am certain I can take out anyone in my division.

The fight in the nearest Ring ends and the two fighters roll out. Scott looks around for the next two fighters. We lock eyes for a second and that is all the time Scott needs to pick me. “You!” he says and points at me. “And you!” he points at a man about my size with long black hair.

I take my time walking to the ring. I let my opponent get into the ring first. I roll into and stand up on the opposite side of the ring to my opponent, he looks anxious, his shoulders are tense, he is taking long controlled breaths. I give him a predatory smile.

The bell chimed, we met in the middle of the ring. The man throws out a probing strike but he is way too slow. I lunge at him with a viscous forearm strike,  the man's head whips back. They stumble back. 

I don’t let up the pressure. I grab the man by the arm and pull him close to me. I smash my knee into his gut and when his knees buckle I  wrap my arm around his head and pull his head just below my armpit. Then I fell down.   

The crown of the man's head slams against the canvas. The man offers no resistance as roll him over and pin him for the three. I stand up with a smug smile on my face. The ref helps the man up and out of the ring.

I look around the gym. All of the Joiners are looking at me, some look like they are regretting coming to try out, but others look determined. In the corner of the room is a strange man. He is in a full suit. He is well groomed, he has a well maintained greying mustache. In his hand is a small note book with a red logo. I know what the logo means.

I step between the top and middle rope. That man is a scout. I have no doubt about that. He is probably from a bigger league looking for diamonds in the ruff. And I am going to show them that they aren't wasting their time. 

I sit down in my chair. Scott picks out the last two pairs into the rings and when the matches are done he starts to dismiss some of the poor performers. He culls about half the field, he starts to pair us off again for another round of fights. 

Every fight I pick a different way to take out my opponent. One of my fights ended with a nasty arm bar. My third fight ends in a knock out after a well pleased kick to the head. After every match I look at the scout and every time I see him writing in his little notebook. 

When all is said and done our group of hopefuls went from almost 40 to 6. Scott stands at the front, his hands clasped together. “Congratulations! You six have made the cut. After you sign your concerts you will officially be a pro-wrestler." Scott says. “I am going to the back to get your contract. After you sign and hand them in we will call you in two weeks.” Scott says.

Scott turns and walks past the rings and into a small office. I see the scout do the same thing. Now all I can do is wait. I did everything I could and I think I did a pretty good job. 

Scott and the scout walk out of the office. In Scott's hands are a good sized pile of papers. The scout is right beside him with a small triumphant smile on his face. “Ben o'leary.” Scott says. He calls out the name of every participant. I was last.

“Jay Foster.” Scott says. I walk up to him and reach for the contract. Scott doesn't give me my contract. Instead he inches a bit closer. “You have more than one contract offer, if your willing we can discuss it in my office." Scott says in a low voice. I nod and follow Scott and the scout to the office.

It's a small room. It has just enough room for a desk, a filing cabinet and two chairs. Scott sits at his desk and the scout stands behind him in front of the cabinet. “You have two options. One you sign with NWA Los Angeles." Scott says holding up a contract. “Or you can take the offer from this gentleman.” The scout takes a step forward.

“My name is Mathew Burke. I’m a scout for All Japan Pro Wrestling and I would like to offer you a contract." Burke says like a salesman. I do my best to suppress a smile. I knew it! All Japan is the wrestling company of 90s Japan. They are a big company that pays big bucks.

“What kind of contract?” I ask. I want to fight for All Japan but I am not going to let them screw me. They still need to give me an ok deal to get me to sigh.

“I can’t offer a permanent contract without my boss giving me a ok. But I can sign you to a ten match deal. 250$ per match an extra 100$ for a win.” Burke says, sounding confident that his deal will win me over. And he is right to be confident.

“I like the sounds of that.” I say, finally letting myself smile. I take the contract that Burke offers me and with a pen from Scott's desk I sign it. This is going to be hard. The fighter in All Japan will not be easy like the ones I fought today. I will need to train and train hard. And I will not let this opportunity slip through my hands.

Rolento sits in the corner of the small bar. He watches his men like a hawk, when Shadaloo recruited him to train them they were a pathetic group of weakling's. But after three months of drills he has been able to turn them into a respectable group of killers.

His men eat and drink quietly. He had drilled into them discipline, he would not allow his men to act like wild animals in public. He had made examples of a few of them on his first day, they were quick to learn they only needed to see the beaten body of one of their comrades to get the message.

The bar was small, it could only fit 50 people at max capacity and his men have certainly filled the bar. Half of them are watching wrestling. Wrestling was one of the few good thing that got broadcasted in this part of the Philippines. They were in a remote region in the north of the islands. They got three channels, one of them was for news, the other one was for the weather and the final one was for entertainment. 

All Japan pro Wrestling had a half an hour TV block at 8:00PM. His men are free at this time so most of them will end up catching a few shows every once in a while. He looks up at the TV, the Camera is focused on an Old looking Japanese Man doing his final stretches before going into the ring. He was a Jobber. He was paid to get the shit kicked out of him by young up and comers. After a few more seconds the camera switches to his opponent.

He stifles a laugh. Standing across from the old man was Jay. He had an intense look in his eyes. They get in the Ring, the Ref checks them for foreign objects, and then the bell rings.

The Match ends in under a minute. Jay hit the man with a running knee, the man fell to the ground which exposed him to a barrage of Kicks. The ref ends the match, the bell rings and a graphic pops up on screen that says that Jay is 6-0.

He picks up his drink and takes a long sip. Jay was keeping up with his training alright. He watches as Jay rolls out of the ring and walks to the locker room. He would have to keep an eye on him. Bison is still looking for strong fighters after all.