[center][h1][img]http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjcyLmJiYjQxMS5USFZqWVhNZ1RXbHNiR1Z5LjAA/against-myself.regular.png[/img][/h1][/center] __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ [h2][color=Khaki]A few months ago, possibly on a Tuesday[/color][/h2] [color=Khaki]"D-Dad I really don't think you're l-listening to me!"[/color] a small narrow looking and clearly terrified boy said, his red cap slid to the side and wearing a black T-shirt with a red and green snake printed on. The very epitome of tough. "Son! After all the training and promise you've shown you'd be a fool not to go out there and follow ya destiny! Trust me, when ya out there with all them people screamin' your name as your handed trophies and titles; you'll thank me." a bald man replied, wearing a light brown T-shirt baggy tan workout pants and no shoes or socks. [color=Khaki]"Dad, you made me send in my application and the applications guy sent back a picture of him laughing!"[/color] The boy moaned, clearly agitated as his father rushed from room to room in their modest home (albeit with very outdated shag carpeting) picking up clothes, shampoo and various other assorted items and stuffing them into a green backpack. [color=Khaki]"You keep m-making me go out there and get my ass kicked, why can't you at least have the decency to let it keep happening here rather than in Brazil with all these crazy martial artists a-a-and robots and g-God knows what else!"[/color] "You're gonna catch 'em by surprise Luccy. Hit 'em with the 'ol one two Miller special! Same move that kept Battlin' Bill Ewan down for a whole two seconds back in MY day heh heh." Perry Miller said recounting his old "glory" days as he continued packing his son's bag without a care in the world. [color=Khaki]"Okay, we're literally having two different conversations."[/color] Lucas said pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration as he slumped against a door frame. [color=Khaki]"Pleeease just listen to me, I've seen these kinda fights! In one of 'em a guy was swung around like a baseball bat 'an thrown into the side of a scaffold! Do you really want your only son's death on your hands Dad!?"[/color] Perry chuckled lightly and put his hands on Lucas' shoulders. "Listen son, first of all no one dies in these tournaments. I'm almost positive! Second, you got all the potential in the world kid, you just gotta let it alllll out on them freaks and bums at that tournament. Trust me kid, you got greatness in you, I can see it! And soon enough, all them weirdos is gonna see it too! So go to Brazil and SHOW 'em! Show 'em that the strongest style around is the MILLER Family Style!" Perry, proud of his words of encouragement, gave Lucas a light slap on the arm and walked down the hall, hands in his pockets as he disappeared into his room, leaving his son dumbfounded. [color=Khaki]"....THAT DOESN'T EVEN EXIST!"[/color] ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ [h2][color=Khaki]Ok, it's the present day now[/color][/h2] Lucas shuffled around the room filled to burst with men of proportionally insane muscles and insane cybernetics alongside women wearing some uncomfortable looking leather suits who could create storms with sheer will. Needless to say Lucas more or less collapsed into himself and kept his head firmly down facing the floor. Because of his frame Lucas went unnoticed for a time but his choice to wear a bright tie dye shirt with red knee and arm pads eventually made him standout against the muted colours and fighters looking for anyone they perceived could be weaker than them. Needless to say when looking at Lucas their search was quickly done. Enduring a few mocking comments and side glances, Lucas made his way through the roster of combatants fairly easily and looked up at one of the TV monitors displaying the end of the Klara Vs. Otsana fight. Lucas stared at the monitor, unblinking and eyes widening as this goliath of a woman slammed her knee directly into this woman who carried several firearms and appeared to be a dog.... Wolf... Thing? The two continued on to the end of their fight on the replay as Lucas wordlessly turned around, slamming straight into someone behind him and knocking the person's drink into their chest. "What. The fuck." a voice said as Lucas looked up to meet the face of a jacked up man wearing a gray muscle top and sporting a mean mullet. His massive hand crushed the paper cup his beer formerly rested in. [color=Khaki]"I-I-I-I..."[/color] Lucas attempted to stammer out some kind of apology but was instead lifted by the collar of his shirt and thrown against the wall. The man pressing his face uncomfortably close against Lucas'. "Somethin' tells me your scrawny ass ain't even MAKIN' it into the tourney." The man reared back his fist and in an instant began propelling it with bad intentions towards the face of Lucas, who in turned cried out in fear and slid his way downwards at the last second. Sending the man's fist smashing into the marble wall with a particularly sickening crack. Offsetting his tough look the man began screaming in a high pitched fashion and leaping around the room clutching his hand, his friends attempting to come to his aid. "MY FUCKIN' HAND! THIS LITTLE BASTARD BROKE MY HAND!!" He cried out as staff members began rushing towards the two of them. [color=Khaki]"I-I I'm S-sorry man o-oh J-Jesus I-I'm really sorry!"[/color] Lucas tried stuttering out in panic, actually going over to the man to try and look at his hand before being swiftly shoved away.