A/N: Off Topic: Thanks to CazB for the "Mayhem In Stockton" Review.
A/N: Strong Language. Adult scenes.
A/N: Featuring Characters from the film "Warrior"
Strike-Force: Shamrock VS Cung Le/ March 2008...
Frank Shamrock thought that he'd win it. He wouldn't have taken the match if he'd thought negatively. He'd seen Cung Le in action. The Guy was a Black Belt in Tae kwon Do and he threw a Hundred Kicks per second. But Frank saw large holes in his game. Holes that could be targeted with Technique.
The Men touched Gloves. The place was on fire. They were both Home-Town Boys. Frank knew that he could take him down. But he didn't. He was determined to Out-Strike Le on the feet.
It was set for Five Rounds. But it lasted just Three. Le's kicks were a MILLION Times harder than Frank had ever imagined. Le got Frank with a Round-House Kick.
Then Frank heard a crack. He just swung, just like Miley on a wrecking ball. He caught Le a couple of times before the Bell sounded. He knew that his arm was bad. Frank had to be helped to his corner. His Corner men told him to lay on the floor. He lay there and he couldn't get back up. Even when the bell rang for fight time.
"He can't continue" The Octagon Doctor said.
"And the New Strike-Force Middle-Weight Champion!...
"Frank, Frank!" Another Arroz and Jamon in Pitta Bread please" Paddy told him. Frank woke up. He was in an MMA day-Dream again. He looked at the order list and went in to make the food.
He couldn't help but Laugh at himself. Frank Shamrock had left the Glossy Golden world of MMA to work at a Fast Food place. He worked at the Taco Bell of all Restaurants.
He was really doing it as a favour. Frank was doing The MMA show "Gym Rescue" With Randy Couture. But he needed more money. So His Friend Paddy set him up with a Job at Conlon's Taco Bell.
The pay wasn't great, but he had a good time with Paddy, and he always got a Staff Discount. He put the Arroz and Jamon into the Pitta bread and brought the meal out himself.
"Here you Go Sir" Frank said. He put the plate on the table. The Customer looked up.
"Shit" Frank said. He got up and ran back into the kitchen. The Customer followed him.
"Get out" Frank shouted.
"Nah. Frank I gotta Talk to you" Nick Diaz said. Nick Diaz was the last Fighter that Frank had wanted to see. Some MMA fans would say that Nick Diaz is real reason why Frank had retired.
"Leave me the fuck alone!" Frank hissed.
"Nah" Nick said. A confused Paddy came through the Kitchen doors.
"Is everything okay Frank?" Paddy asked his gaze shifting suspiciously to him then Nick.
"Sir. I ordered Tofu and I got Ham instead. And your Staff. That guy over there won't give me a refund" Nick said.
"Nick just leave" Frank said, impressed by how well Nick lied on the Spot.
"Frankie, just give the Guy a refund okay" Paddy said with a nod. Paddy walked back out and Frank walked to the Till to give Nick a refund that he never deserved. "There" Frank said giving Nick Six-Forty.
"It was Six-Fifty" Nick said. Frank almost flung the change at Nick, when Nick tapped his arm. The gentleness of the tap made Frank look up.
"Frank I wanna talk. Alone" Nick told him.
"What? You wanna poke fun at me? Is that it?" Frank asked him, irritated.
"I've got an offer for you" Nick said. Frank didn't trust Diaz. But after work he saw Nick waiting for him outside.
"Wow, you don't give up. Do you?" Frank asked. Frank may have been on the bones of his ass. But his didn't mind taking Nick Diaz to his house. Saving for a house, and getting a house, was one of the few things that he was proud of.
Frank had had this place for years. It wasn't that big, but inside it was still impressive, because Frank took Good care of it.
"Do you want a drink?" Frank asked.
"Squash if you've got it" Nick said. Frank went to the fridge. He got out a Grape-Fruit and Barley Squash and mixed it with water. He went back into the living room.
Nick was just standing around, looking at Frank's MMA Awards and Trophies. Before Nick could lay a finger on them, Frank cleared his throat.
"Hey, here you go" Frank said putting the Glass on a coaster on the table.
"Thanks" Nick said, just looking at the glass of Squash.
"So Nick, what's going on?" Frank asked loosening a Button on his Taco Bell uniform.
"I just...you know...wanted to see how you were doing or whatever" Nick said.
"So...you just thought you'd drive to a Taco Bell?" Frank asked.
"Yeah" Nick said.
"Fifty Miles Outside of Central California?" Frank asked.
"Yeah" Nick said.
"Bullshit Nick. How the fuck did you find out where I worked?" Frank asked.
"Fuck you I ain't no snitch" Nick barked.
"I didn't have you down as a Taco Bell fan. Like the Spanish Stuff Huh?" Frank asked.
"Yeah, you know, me and my Little Brother have a little Latino in us or whatever, so I just thought..." Nick started to say.
"Right, so you came to Taco Bell for some:
Pescado Pasta?
Cazuela de pollo?
Orina de cerdo? Frank asked.
Nick nodded.
"Orina de Cerdo is Pig piss Nick. You don't know a word of fucking Spanish. Taco Bell Fan, my ass" Frank said.
"I don't know much Spanish you know. So?" Nick asked. Just cause I ain't no Brown-Pride, Fame-Whore like Cain Velasquez and shit. Look, you've been in MMA and the truth is... I've Split from the Gracies" Nick announced.
Frank sat down on the arm of one of his leather chairs. He beckoned Nick to sit down.
Shit Nick. I know that must have been tough. But it's about time" Frank said. Frank and his Brother Ken, had a heated rivarly with the Gracies. At first it was just a Training camp thing. Then Frank faced Nick's Head Coach.
Frank had TKO'd that Gracie in Seconds. That just added fuel to the fire.
"I hate to say it Nick, but it's about time" Frank said.
"Really?" Nick asked.
"Yeah. There's only one reason why you left that Camp. And it wasn't because Renzo was trying to get in your pants" Frank said with a nod. "So you came for advice? Is that it?" Frank asked.
"Well...Nah" Nick said.
"I can't give you cash" Frank said.
"I know you fucking can't. You're working at Fucking Taco Bell Dude" Nick retorted.
"You know, Cause I ain't got no-one representing me so...I need a Manager" Nick said. Sipping his Squash for the first time.
"Ummm. I know some MMA names. I've heard Miesha Tate, Nakamoto, and Condit have great Managers" Frank said.
"I wouldn't piss on Carlos Condit if he was on fire" Nick said.
"What about Nate's manager?" Frank asked him. Nick's Little Brother Nate had escaped from the Gracies, ages ago.
"Well My Little Brother was all like "See Kogan" I don't need to see Kogan You know? I've seen Kogan's Twitter" Nick said. "I wouldn't trust Kogan with a fucking House-Plant. Never-mind my fucking Career" Nick said.
"I'll tell you what. Give me your umm...email and I'll get my Manager to give you some names" Frank said. Nick took a huge gulp of Squash. The juice trickled down Nick's neck before he could be bothered to wipe it off. Frank told himself that he wasn't turned on. This was all about business.
"I want you" Nick said tapping his hands on the arm of the sofa.
"What? I can't be your Manager Nick" Frank said shaking his head quickly.
"Why the fuck not?" Nick asked.
"Cause you shafted me away from MMA in the first place. How will that look to the MMA press?" Frank asked.
"Who gives a shit about Ariel Helwani, and fucking Bleacher's Report? Bleacher's Report is the same fucking site that said that Rousey was hot. I mean, Bleacher's is that fucked up" Nick said.
"I know nothing about Managing anyone. I've never Managed anyone" Frank said.
"So you don't wanna fucking try?" Nick asked. Frank walked over to Nick and sat next to him. Nick shuffled back, slightly alarmed by the sudden intimacy.
"Nick...Before we Start...I've done prison time" Frank confessed.
"I know" Nick said. Avoiding Frank's eyes.
"Shit. Paddy must have told you that, what an asshole. He's supposed to be my friend" Frank said.
"Well...Tommy told me your shit" Nick said. Frank leaned back and clapped his hands like a retarded seal. Tommy Conlon. It made sense.
When Frank and Paddy were Party-buddies in the Early days. Paddy's son Tommy, hated his guts. Paddy must have told Tommy some of Frank's past. Frank didn't blame Paddy, well not anymore.
"And...Stuff with my Brother Ken...hasn't been all that great" Frank said.
"Yeah I know all of that "Lion Den" shit too" Nick said with a Knowledgeable nod.
"Fuck, is there anything that Tommy hasn't..." Frank sentence ended in nothing as Nick kissed him. Frank Returned the kiss. Nick cupped his hand around the back of Frank's neck.
Frank figured that both himself and Nick weighed the same at the moment. Frank was a Trim One Eighty.
He guessed that Nick was One Eighty too. Even though Nick usually fought at One Seventy. Nick took control. He put his hands in Frank's trousers. As soon as Frank became hard, Nick grabbed Frank by the waist and swerved him flat onto the sofa.
Nick told Frank's dick out of his pants and gripped him with his fist while spitting on his other hand.
This was now Frank's time to object. He could have said:
"Nick I'll pass"
"No way, Diaz, what do you take me for?"
"Nick you already fucked me up in Strike-Force. Why do it again?"
Before Frank knew it Nick Diaz had mounted him. He was turning him over. Frank just decided to go with the flow. Or as Kenny Florian would say: The K-Flo. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to mention Kenny right now. Frank slid his Trousers down and Nick took off Frank's Boxer shorts.
Moments later, Frank could feel the wetness of Nick's spit, soon replaced by the burning feeling of Nick inside of him. Frank gripped the side of Nick's hip with his Right hand.
"You Good?" Nick asked as he slowed down from a fast to a Steady motion against Frank's ass.
"Hmm" Frank muttered as Nick went harder.
"I've got Anderson Silva Next" Nick told him. Leaning over him.
"Arrhhh..." Frank said. When getting fucked, no other words came to mind...
Frank knew that his nails were digging into Nick's side, but Nick didn't complain. Nick just licked Frank's back. Nick slowly gave him another Hand-job while he was on Top. Frank came. Nick wiped his hands on Frank's shirt and asked him where his Bath-Room was.
"It's Upstairs on the right" Frank said. When Nick Diaz came back. They pretended that the last Hour and a Half, hadn't really happened.
"So...you'll think it over?" Nick asked.
"Yeah. So you're really facing the Mighty Anderson Silva huh?" Frank asked.
Nick nodded.
"That explains the Weight Gain" Frank said.
"What?" Nick asked.
"Nothing. Look. I'll give you some numbers Nick. By email. Like I said. Then I'll talk to my own manager. Then I'll talk to people that know you" Frank said.
"You fucking know me" Nick said.
"Yeah Nick, but it's not that simple. I'll let you know my Decision. Two weeks from now" Frank said. Nick nodded. Frank could tell that the younger Fighter was disappointed.
"I'm...you know..just..gonna go" Nick said. He got his Stuff and walked out. Frank shut the door and smiled. He wasn't smiling at Nick Diaz sad Puppy-Like face. Frank was smiling because he knew what his answer was going to be...
He'd made up his mind.
Frank Shamrock was going to become Nick Diaz's New Manager.