Post by Andrea Cross on Mar 27, 2022 15:15:49 GMT -5
[ ‘The Pirate Cove’ Wrestling Gym – San Francisco – Present Day ]
The first light of the day had barely put its touch upon the land below as the sounds of strenuous activity bled to the outside of the gym’s windows. It was chilly inside, but the young woman taking uneducated fists and feet to a heavy bag seemed barely oppressed by the temperature as sweat beaded down her forehead and with every heavy swing and equally heavy thud in the heavy bag she pushed her body to the limit.
This was, for all intents, a universal standard in the life of Andrea Cross. A guarantee that whenever she felt her feet slipping underneath a proverbial icy floor that the only way to ground herself back onto it was through physical punishment.
The punishment of losing a match she felt she could’ve won, the punishment of feeling like she wasn’t putting in enough effort to chase her dream, the punishment that all that she worked for looked ever fleeting… And the punishment of pushing away the pain that radiated from the nerve endings as her limbs continued being forcefully flung into a target.
The footsteps of her trainer arriving did little to stop her in her tracks, neither did his voice ringing out both in worry and anger as it echoed through the room.
What the hell are you doing, Andy?! Jack’s voice would finally cut through the mental wall around her, if only because it was aided by his arms around her waist pulling her away from the heavy bag.
The heavy bag would swing back and forth as it lost its momentum, the leather on it scuffed but mockingly pristine as it had taken punishment from bigger and more deliberate foes in the years it had stoically accepted its fate as an object for ones frustrations to be meted out onto it.
But despite time and distance, Andrea looked to be seething, ready to continue what could possibly be the twentieth round of one-sided assault.
Your hands are bleeding, you need to get that checked out, now! Jack’s voice was agitated, on edge, but filled with the worry of a surrogate father that knew her niece’s self-destructive tendencies.
Pushing Andrea to take a seat on the bench, the young woman said nothing as she balled her fists that had grown beet red both from trickles of blood and the self-inflicted blunt force damage from hours of working a heavy bag without adequate protection.
You know, it’s really typical. Every time things don’t go your way, you do dumb shit like this, you’re just like Joseph… Jack came from his office with first aid in hand, he paused a second as she saw Andrea finally show something of emotion.
The name ‘Joseph’, this time around, had bitter connotations that went beyond her father’s name. A reminder of her defeat at the hands of a man with the same name, but nothing of the late Joseph’s good grace.
Going on one knee, Jack grabbed a bottle of mineral water out of his bag and grabbed the hand that had taken the worst beating. You won’t like this, but it’s your own fault he’d say, dumping half of the bottle onto her fiery red hand.
Andrea winced, instinct made her want to pull the hand away but Jacks grip stopped any sort attempt. Quickly, he’d grab a q-tip and dipped it into rubbing alcohol, and started working on the knuckles, the pain of that even worse than anything else that could come to Andrea’s mind.
Listen, your dad was like this, whenever shit gets bad he’d find a heavy bag and kept punching it until his fingers bled. And I’ve seen plenty others with the same attitude, and you’re lucky you didn’t break your knuckles. Jack said, his focus on working the young woman’s raw knuckles.
Having finished with cleaning up her wounds, he pulled a string of bandages close by and started winding them around her wounds making sure to wrap them tight enough to immobilize them.
I don’t need your speeches, Jack. Andrea would finally pipe up with a muffled voice, her teeth almost grinding.
You do need one of my speeches, lady. Because you do stupid things that cause others to need to fix the things you break. he’d shoot right back, dryly but with a stern tell in his voice.
Finished wrapping one hand, Andrea would take it back, foolishly giving it a little pound on her knee and wincing at the pain. Adrenaline had vanished, and now she had to live with the pain of her foolishness.
I had Blaze beat, I knew I could’ve beaten him. But I lost, I lost again. First Gin, now Blaze. I hate losing, I need to keep winning. Andrea said, trying her best to sound tough but merely reinforcing the petulancy in her words.
Taking the second hand, Jack continued with his treatment as he shrugged lightly.
So what you lost? You lose all the time, people all over that company lose all the time, you think you’re special because you act like it? he’d shoot back at her, taking no velvet approach to what he had to say. Gin was a tough break, Blaze was a tougher break. But they happen, you’re still here and you still got the next chance, so go focus on taking that one rather than moping about the last. he’d explain.
Stopping for a second, he’d look up with a furrowed brow.
Or have you forgotten all the fights you did win? Every time you proved me wrong, proved others wrong? Just because you lose two matches doesn’t mean this dream is dead, it just means you gotta try a bit harder to keep it alive, and I thought I knew you better than a girl who gets fatalistic when faced with a minor problem? he’d ask, pressing on with his treatment all the same.
I’m not… fatalistic. I just don’t want to lose, I promised dad that I was going to make it a reality, I just hate that I am so close to achieving it and now when it matters the most I start making this dumb mistakes, start losing matches I shouldn’t be losing. I won bigger fights, I hate that I am losing smaller ones. he’d say, taking her other hand back but this time forgoing the stress test of the last.
Sighing lightly, Jack would scratch the back of his neck for a second and look back up. Putting a hand on Andrea’s shoulder, he’d push himself to his feet and join her on the bench next to her.
I can’t talk from experience, you know that. But I do know you’re lying to yourself if you think this was going to be easier, because no match on this level is going to be easy, no opponent is just going to take a fiery monologue at a camera and start shaking in their boots. They’re here because they have a goal, like you maybe even a dream or a promise of getting here. They want this as much as you do, and whilst I think you got what it takes, you’re not going to win every fight just by expecting it. You’re a hero in many people’s lives already, but you’re only a true hero in your own story. The rest you need to prove, to me, to your mom, to your dad, and to the people you step into the ring with. he’d explain, going to some effort to wax a little poetic in absence of tangible experience.
Shaking his head, Jack would take what water was left and drink it.
I suggest you stop punishing yourself for your failures, and look forward instead. You got more matches coming up to prove yourself. Heck, if you hadn’t, I’d still tell you to keep fighting for the next chance. That’s the only thing you can do, keep fighting and proving yourself, in the hope that you can break through at some point. he’d tell her.
Andrea nodded, but it was clear not everything landed with the young woman and her youthful attitude issues that could only be lost through future failures.
I know, I’m just frustrated and angry. And now I got a triple threat, and I’m back at the bottom of the card. I want to win this, I need to win this, and even if I do lose it, I don’t want to come back here with more questions. I hate this feeling of coming up short when I feel I could go the distance, and I just don’t know how to react whenever it happens. Andrea mused out loud as she looked at her bandaged fists, the pain becoming ever more obvious and less subdued.
I know Jupiter and Trafalgar have their own issues against each other, Jupiter probably wants to get his win back and Trafalgar probably wants to show that he’s superior to Jupiter. Meanwhile I just feel like I’m the third wheel in this match, stuck in between two people that will want to take each-others heads off. But it also feels like nobody expects anything from me anymore, and I’m filling the numbers. So I want to beat them both, straight up. I want to prove them both wrong if they underestimate me; I want to show that I’m still the best talent on Project: Underground. And I want to win so I can keep walking towards that dream.
Jack would smile, putting a hand on her shoulder and standing up proper this time. He grabbed the bag and slung it over his shoulder.
If you don’t want to be left with questions, how about you start to make sure you have the answers you need. checking his watch, he let out a yawn as it had still been early. I’m going to go get a coffee and get changed, afterwards we can do some drills to prepare you. No more bluster, more training and more effort. I feel if you’re prepared for this, you won’t have any questions even if you lose.
Showing the first smile of her own, Andrea would stand up in agreement. Throwing a few confident fists into the air. But Jack would quickly quirk an eyebrow.
No more punching though, if only because your boxing technique is atrocious. he’d smile cautiously, leaving.
Cupping her hands, Andrea seemed less on edge, but not fully calmed down.
Don’t worry, no more arrogance, I am going to do my best to show people wrong.
Fade
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