Just a fic idea that's been popping in my head. Tyler's slowly becoming one of my favorite TD characters.
H-how it happened...I just don't know. A dead body layed at my feet. I looked at my hands, the tools for murder. Lindsay was shouting something at me, but most of the world was gone. All I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears,and the sound of that final blow.
To truly understand this, I'll have to take you back nearly a whole year...
1 Year Earlier
I sat in my Geometry class, the teacher up front talking on about squares and triangles and how they relate to the world...blah, blah, blah. Ever since I was eliminated from Total Drama World Tour, life's been pretty boring. Sure, I'm dating Lindsay and we see each other regularly, but outside of that I have nothing to do. I've already been on every sports team this high school offered, and none of them were as challenging or fun as Total Drama. I have to admit,even though Chris tortured us, if you look back, some of the challenges were pretty interesting. The bell for dismissal rang. I sighed as I grabbed my backpack and trudged to my next class.
That afternoon, I was trudging home. I didn't even know what a person looked like when they trudged, but I guess I was doing it. My house wasn't that far away, only about a 20 minute walk. As I 'trudged' down the same sidewalk I've walked down since a small kid, I noticed something different.
A gym. I stopped and looked up, the sign of the gym lit up in bright neon letters."Doc Clay's Boxing Gym..."I read out loud. It was an old apartment complex. It should have always been here, since the bricks that made up the building were very worn. The sign must've just been turned on. I don't know why, but I found myself walking up the steps to the third floor of the apartment. With each step...tension began to build in my body. What was I expecting? If I made it to the top,I wouldn't be surprised if I had an ulcer.
Luckily, ulcers never came as I reached the top. A rotting wooden door greeted me. I reached out and knocked three times. Then another three times. And another.
Just before turning around to leave, I heard noise inside. Seconds later clicks of locks unlocking, and the door opened. An old man who barely came up to my torso appeared in the doorway. He had dark-tanned skin which contrasted his silver combover hair and mustache. He was gruff in appearance and speech. "What do you want, punk?" He rumbled out in a voice too deep for his stature.
I really didn't know what to say. Something forced me up here, and that force had left me at the doostep of this strange old man. "I uh...saw the sign out front. I was curious..."I came up for an answer.
The man looked out the door to his left, seeing the neon light."Goddang. Must've turned in on by accident. Well kid if your here to learn, your 20 years too late."He said, rubbing his mustache. "Wha...what do you mean?"I asked, not eally sure where this would lead me. Hopefully not with a shotgun barrel pointed at my face. That man's right hand was twitching towards something I couldn't see beyond the doorframe.
"The boxing gym closed down 20 years ago, idiot."He replied."I haven't trained a kid like you in years. So just go home and leave an old man to his brandy." He waved me off, turning around.
The words 'boxing' and 'train' perked my attention. The school didn't have a boxing...team, let alone any other fighting sport. Wrestling had been banned on account of how last year a guy had nearly cracked my spine in half in the first match of the year.
"Wait!"I found myself shouting for no reason. The old man turned back around to face me."You don't have to scream. I don't have a hearing aid, punk."He crossed his arms."Could I...see your boxing gym? Like I said, I'm curious." I was nervous. The tension was building back up again.
The Old man sighed, and waved. "Come in."
I stepped inside and followed him. The apartment was huge. The entire third floor must be used for this room. The room had a boxing ring right in the center of the room, benches lined up along a wall, mats and punching bags were shoved into a corner. The place smelled of sweat and alchohol. "Go ahead, look around, I don't care." The Old Man sat down on a bench, a bottle of brandy in one hand. He gave a large chug of the fiery stuff.
Walking over to the punching bags, I rubbed my hand along one bag. It was covered in dust, but the feeling of worn leather was still there. Not really thinking, I pulled back my left fist and punched the bag. It seemed much louder to me, but a SMACK rebounded around the room. My fist had left a deep imprint into the bag. Turning around, I saw the Old Man just staring at me. Awkward...
"Kid...I haven't seen somebody hit that hard in years." He jumped off the bench, waddling over to me. He picked up my hand and examined it. I hadn't even noticed, the skin around my knuckles had been torn from the punch. "Do you know what this means?"The man shoved my hand closer to my face."That I'll need some band-aids?"I replied,raising one eyebrow.
"No! It means your a hard-hitter! Only strong punches could tear skin like that!"He was ecstatic.
"Listen kid, I'm pretty buzzed right now, but I know this isn't the alchohol talking. You could be a Boxer...a great one..."He drawled off.
"What's your schedule?"He suddenly snapped."Uh...I come by here every day on the way back home from school..."
"Come in here every afternoon." He let go of my hand, and began pacing.
"Yes...yes...I can have the gym set up and everything...some new equipment...repairs..."He mumbled to himself. He stopped to look and me, and smiled. He had pretty good teeth for an old guy."I'm Doc Clay. And You?"
"I'm Tyler..."I introduced myself.
"Well Tyler, your going to be a Boxer soon."
