Brawling Bums

[Truth]

Journal entry I have to keep my skill up if i have any hope of surviving in this city. Everyone i have seen so far is equal or far stronger then i am.So I am going to be starting fights with random people i see.



Truth had been roaming the streets of San Fran looking for someone that he could fight. He wore a plain black T shirt , a pair of dark blue jeans and his white snake skin boots. A wrinkled cigarette hung from his mouth as he pushed his way through the crowed streets.His pale gray eyes darted from person to person trying to find a person he thought was as others would call "a fighter"He walked into an ally and took a moment to collect his thoughts. Could it be that the only good fighters only went to that school? No that was not plausible to him there had to be someone outside of that.

"Hey, do you have any money?"

Truth looked up and saw a bum slowly walk over to him. The bum was in his early forties to late thirties. He wore a raggedy cloths and an old red beanie. Truth smiled and reached into his back pocket and sent a quick kick to the mans mid section. The man bent over holding his gut as Truth took his head and slammed it into a nearby wall. The Bum laid on the ground as Truth took his fighting stance both of his arms up by his face and bouncing on his toes waiting for the bum to get up but the Bum was out cold and was not going to get up anytime soon.Truth let out a sigh and dropped his stance.

[Jeremiah Sykes]

Scum. Beggars, hypocrits and leeches. Jeremiah stalked through the crowded streets, smoke planted safely between his lips as he brushed people aside without care for thier attitudes or sense of self preservation. Nobody was going to be attacking him- they would have to be a fool to do so. At nearly six foot seven, Jeremy was huge, well over two hundred pounds of pure muscle. Thats not to say that he was just a bad man with a constant chip on his shoulder, but he believed that the only ruling factors in mans heart was money and power. Throw an occassional model in there and you would have the equivilant of every average mans wet dream.

He hated it.

Maybe it was because he himself was probably the wealthiest man alive, but he didnt believe that money counted for much. He had barely touched his large, multi-billion dollar fortune, and didnt care to. He lived on the streets, worked on the streets. He was the streets. He stopped, hearing a sickening crunch. He closed his eyes, taking a drag off the cancer stick before turning toward the alley way. He looked down at the battered body of a worthless pawn, probably born from the lack of current economy. He looked up at the semi-well dressed man who stood over him, coming out of a fighting stance as though the man at his feet still stood any sort of chance.

Jeremiah removed the cig from his mouth and spat, his posture relaxed, though the trained eye could see the well-ingrained tension and the white, scarred knuckles of his hands. His black leather jacket strung over his brough back and shoulders, the Sleeveless shirt underneath hugging the barrelled chest. His dark blue jeans shone well with the rest of his attire, and his voice was deep, calm, methodic.

"Well, arent you the big man on the block."

His eyes were cold, calculating, arresting Blue hued against a bald head. He wasnt angry at the way this man treated people- he was just angry at the type of people he chose to treat that way.

If he was such a big man...why not let him try that on someone who can fight back? He rolled his shoulders, sending out an obviously hostile aura, waiting for the mans reply with a blank face.

[Truth]

Truth slolwy turned around and when he finally faced the man he flashed his sliver grin. Finally someone had answered his call, someone in the sky respected battle enough to send him an opponent to fight. He reached into his back pocket and took his journal out and sat down pressing the journal on his thigh as he began to write.

Journal entry.

I think i have found a potential 'rival' as some would say. He is a tall menacing looking man one that i would have been completely afraid of before my...well...lets see how this fight goes..

Truth smiled and placed the Journal back in his pocket and stood up running his hand threw his hair before ripping a page out of journal with something written on it. Truth felt some envy toward the man in front of him, he looked like someone who knew what they where doing.He meant business. SERIOUS BUSINESS. Truth bowed toward the man the way a conductor bows before a sympathy.He crumbled up the piece of paper and tossed it toward the man.

I am Truth.Nothing more. I am wishing to test my skills

`This will be beautiful.`

[Jeremiah Sykes]

Jeremiah smacked the paper away as it flew toward him, a casual flick of the wrist before he tossed his cig to the pavement, lifting his foot and smothering the fire beneath it. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, like a sigh though more in a relaxed state, like he was committing himself to what the kid wanted. He reached up, tugging the jacket back and sliding it off his arms, revealing heavily muscled and tattooed arms. His knuckles cracked as he clenched his fist, flexing the bone that had been hardened to near rock like through the many battles he had fought. He didnt smile, though his face went instead to a look of determination, one that all who knew him would fear. In his eyes was the look of his title, The Tank, and he was gonna show this boy why.

"If your going to beat someone up, try doing it to an individual who can fight back." He licked his lower lip. "Like me." He launched forward- not at an overbearing speed that would put him off balance if he stopped suddenly, but enough that he crossed the span of fifteen feet in short order. He stopped in front of him, left foot forward slightly as he torqued his upper body, his large right fist hurtling toward the boys exposed face. Of course, he wasnt reckless, and knew that ninety-nine percent of all first blows were countered or dodged, and kept that in his mind and he made to tear this fiend apart.