Post by Tommy Burton on Feb 19, 2021 4:24:22 GMT -6
Long Beach, California
Friday Morning
February 19th
A condo directly on Ocean Blvd.
Not in a hundred years did Tommy think that he'd be walking out from an upscale Condo, onto the sand of Long beach California.
Dump motels.
Absolute garbage apartment rentals.
His car.
Old couches.
That’s what he's known for far too many years now.
But today, and for the past couple weeks, here he was.
He walks along a beautiful stone walkway which ends in the most perfect beach sand.
He makes a point not to look down. He looks straight ahead as he walks. He knows subconsciously that if he looks down, he'll see his hardened forearms. He'll see his scarred hands. Reminders of pain and suffering and destruction. For the moment, he wants to experience this without all those reminders.
This moment of seeming happiness. Sure, he had to pay some good cash to secure this condo for 3 weeks, but it was worth it. He hasn't felt this rested in so long. He and his friends, for once, were enjoying themselves. The headache from his post Gambit partying gone. He's now been training hard everyday, and it showed. He's even managed to get a tan in the past couple weeks here on the beach.
As he got to the back of the building, he turned away from the stone walkway, and walked towards his parked car.
Tommy hadn't given the future much thought. He never did. As he got closer to the car, he realized that he hadn't really thought about what he'd do with this car.
Park it and burn it.
Drop it off with the keys in it, near some homeless tent camp.
Didn't matter.
Nothing tied the car to Tommy.
"What the fuck?"
The drivers window was broken out.
There goes the perfect beach condo experience.
Tommy doesn't hurry his walk.
He doesn't slow it either.
He should have expected something would eventually ruin this fake happiness.
The window wasn’t broke so someone could steal something, the window was broke so someone could leave something.
A black bag.
Tommy pulled it out through the broken window. He hesitated for a moment and without being overly obvious tried to scan around for some sign, any sign, that he was being watched. He undid the bag and looked inside.
A black leather strap.
Old.
Worn.
The kind that would be used for a wrestling title.
Except with no metal plates.
Just a stupid leather strap.
He recognized it right away.
He had seen it with his brother.
It was the Black Title.
Now he blatantly looked around.
At the beautiful beach.
At the fancy condo building.
Experience: Ruined.
“Fuck.”
Friday Morning
February 19th
A condo directly on Ocean Blvd.
Not in a hundred years did Tommy think that he'd be walking out from an upscale Condo, onto the sand of Long beach California.
Dump motels.
Absolute garbage apartment rentals.
His car.
Old couches.
That’s what he's known for far too many years now.
But today, and for the past couple weeks, here he was.
He walks along a beautiful stone walkway which ends in the most perfect beach sand.
He makes a point not to look down. He looks straight ahead as he walks. He knows subconsciously that if he looks down, he'll see his hardened forearms. He'll see his scarred hands. Reminders of pain and suffering and destruction. For the moment, he wants to experience this without all those reminders.
This moment of seeming happiness. Sure, he had to pay some good cash to secure this condo for 3 weeks, but it was worth it. He hasn't felt this rested in so long. He and his friends, for once, were enjoying themselves. The headache from his post Gambit partying gone. He's now been training hard everyday, and it showed. He's even managed to get a tan in the past couple weeks here on the beach.
As he got to the back of the building, he turned away from the stone walkway, and walked towards his parked car.
Tommy hadn't given the future much thought. He never did. As he got closer to the car, he realized that he hadn't really thought about what he'd do with this car.
Park it and burn it.
Drop it off with the keys in it, near some homeless tent camp.
Didn't matter.
Nothing tied the car to Tommy.
"What the fuck?"
The drivers window was broken out.
There goes the perfect beach condo experience.
Tommy doesn't hurry his walk.
He doesn't slow it either.
He should have expected something would eventually ruin this fake happiness.
The window wasn’t broke so someone could steal something, the window was broke so someone could leave something.
A black bag.
Tommy pulled it out through the broken window. He hesitated for a moment and without being overly obvious tried to scan around for some sign, any sign, that he was being watched. He undid the bag and looked inside.
A black leather strap.
Old.
Worn.
The kind that would be used for a wrestling title.
Except with no metal plates.
Just a stupid leather strap.
He recognized it right away.
He had seen it with his brother.
It was the Black Title.
Now he blatantly looked around.
At the beautiful beach.
At the fancy condo building.
Experience: Ruined.
“Fuck.”