Chapter 10. Dear Agony

-Three months later-

"Jesus Christ, dude," Eugene quipped. "Would it kill you to look in a fucking mirror? Look at yourself. You're a mess."

"Well, I'm sorry I can't bring myself to be charming at a time like this. And I'm sorry if I'm not living up to your entertainment standards," Jack fired back, not bothering to look at his buddy as he worked on snaking a pair of handwraps around his hands. The rest of the team decided to end the day with a couple of beers. Jack, however, had turned down their invite to join in, wanting to train his ass for the remainder of the night.

"You're acting like an druken emo guy who got hit by five Hop Hop Elbows of Death by Dan Henderson."

I feel like he gave me ten Shuffle Shuffle H-Bombs, actually.

"Okay, first of all, Flynn Rider, eat a bag of thirty-seven dicks and DX suck them so hard because you're wrong," Jack said with a flat look. "Secondly, what I'm doing right now is called 'training'. As in preparing for a fight. Or have you forgotten that that's what everyone in this gym is supposed to do?"

Eugene's sigh was remarkable. Loud, drawn out and filled with enough exasperation to fuel an obnoxious teenager for a week.

Jack almost smiled as he walked towards a nearby punching bag and gave the poor thing a Bas Rutten Special.

Not that he was mooning or acting like an emo. That'd be stupid. And Jack didn't waste his time with stupid.

"Being the fucking HBK with me now, aren't you? You're not training, Frosty. For the past three months all you did was take your anger out on that thing," Eugene said, gesturing to the punching bag which was swinging like a broken pendulum. "Tell you what, just get over her."

"The fuck are you talking about?" he gave Eugene a dark look as he delivered a hard left cross to the bag.

The silence was magnificent.

If only it'd last.

"It's been months," Eugene stated. "You're so hung up that you barely do anything anymore other than work your ass off. That's your life. You're a cliché, man. And it's all because of her."

Jack winced.

Sad, but true.

Anna had been right. Three months since she had officially shut the door on his face, Elsa hadn't talked to him again. Jack had called. He'd gone by her place. He'd done everything but tattle on her daddy.

Finally, he'd given up.

He wasn't going to waste his time on a woman who couldn't get past her daddy issues.

"Gene, will you please just leave me the fuck alone?" he snapped. "I'm trying to focus here."

There. He'd defended himself against all of Eugene's accusations. He continued to make the punching bag swing back and forth

"You're angry Jack, I get it. You thought having se—making new friends was going to relieve you the pressure. But-"

"Don't you have anything better to do?" Jack growled, sick of thinking about Elsa and totally pissed that Eugene wouldn't let it go.

His buddy smirked. "'Dear Charo, I've fallen for the girl I can't have and now can't get over her. How do I heal my broken heart?'"

It would have been funny if it wasn't way too close to the truth.

"Fuck off," he growled. "And what hell is that 'Dear Charo' bullshit?"

"It's some Filipino soap that Edmund and Thiana used to watched," Eugene's grin disappeared as the words cleared his mouth.

They hadn't mentioned Edmund in quite a while.

Jack mindlessly gave the floor his full attention. They were trained for this. Anything can happen inside a cage. They went into the octagon knowing it wasn't just a possibility, but a probability, that one of them would be fighting their last fight. So what was with the emotional drama? When did it get easier?

He regained his stance and threw another kick to the bag.

"Anyway, since I figured that you won't leave me alone. At least talk to me about something else."

"Alright. What do you want to know?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Um...dream match that never happened?"

"Really?" Eugene asked incredulously. "That's what you want to know?"

"Who gives a shit? Just tell me," Jack defended, giving the heavy bag a spinning wheel kick.

"Fair enough. Boxing, MMA or Pro Wrestling?"

"Seriously, Pro Wrestling?" Jack said as he rolled his eyes.

"You said 'dream match', not 'dream fight'. So Pro Wrestling counts," Eugene countered, smirking. "And don't act like you hate wrestling, buddy. Some five or six years ago, you were CM Punk's biggest fan. Matter of fact, you still are, just look at your shirt."

He took a quick glance in the mirror to see that yes, he was wearing a 'Best In The World' t-shirt.

"Fine. MMA."

"Okay, I got Kazushi Sakuraba versus Bas Rutten."

Jack grinned, "The guy who made the Gracies look like a bunch of backyard white belts against the guy who terrorised Japan worse than Godzilla?"

"I know, right," Eugene chuckled. "How about you?"

"Well, let's see...um, Lyoto Machida versus Wanderlei Silva. At 185."

"I got Machida in that one, he's just too fast, especially at middleweight"

"You never know. I mean Shogun beat him. Twice. And Shogun and Wanderlei share the same fighting style. You know, Chute Boxe," Jack said as he launched a right hook.

"Hey, Jack," Agdar called from the other side of the gym.

Fist halfway to the punching bag, he stopped, narrowed his eyes and turned towards his coach's direction. "Yes, coach?"

The head coach of Royalty MMA took one look at the both of them, and his mouth formed into a hard line.

"I need to speak you. Alone," and he walked off, his flip flops echoing in the empty hallway. Eugene's mouth formed into an 'O' as he smiled and shook his head at Jack.

"You're in trouble," he said in a singsong voice. Jack gave him a dark look, discarded the handwraps and walked away towards the opposite direction.

"So what's this about, coach?"

"Dana White just called."

"Oh, Big Bald Fuck called, huh?," Jack said sarcastically. "What did he say?"

"He's offering you a shot at the welterweight belt."

Jack frowned. All it took was two seconds, a slight furrow of the brow and a shift of his shoulders to know that he was not the number one contender for the title.

"Wait a sec, isn't Haddock supposed to fight for the title?"

"And I will tell you why that he won't be fighting anymore," his coach said. "He's injured. Broke his leg after his traning partner put him in a Heel Hook."

"What, is Rousimar 'The Injury Bug' Palhares one of his training partners?" he joked.

"I couldn't care less," Agdar shrugged, not in the mood for any jest. "The point is the UFC is giving you another shot at the title and if you decline, they'll cancel the event. So, what do you say about fighting Hans again?"

Hans.

That name just sends waves of anger in his stomach. Just the mere mention of it makes Jack want to punch someone in the face. Reason? Well, once upon a fucking time, Jack Overland fought Hans Westergaard in a welterweight title unification bout where Hans unified both titles via a very controversial unanimous decision. Jack gave the motherfucker the toughest fight of his life as he repeatedly tagged him with body kicks and counter shots while also defended all of his takedowns and escaped his submission attempts. Hans attempted to steal the fight by throwing a barrage of missed haymakers by the end of each round which may have swayed the judges. By the end of the fight, Jack's face looked as pristine as he was born, while the champion looked as if he was auditioning for a role in The Mask and Hellraiser. But the judges disregarded the damage Jack had inflicted and awarded Hans the decision victory.

The result shocked Jack and his team, as well as the audience with some even calling it the 'Robbery of the Year'.

The champion has not lost a fight since then and is currently on a 7-fight winning streak.

A streak that he'd happily put an end to.

He looked at his coach, "What's the venue?"

"Vegas. Six weeks. You up for it?"

"You already know the answer, coach," a grinned formed on his lips, determination was the only thing in his mind. "I'll eat that motherfucker alive."

"Yeah, I know you will," Agdar said as he gave him a smile, and it quickly banished when he added. "Jack, I...I need to speak with you about Elsa."

A new type of anger fisted tight in his gut upon hearing that name, the same as it always did at the memory of that night.

As he had so many times in the past, he reminded himself that it was dumb to get worked up over a woman he'd only known for a couple of days. The only reason Elsa was still intriguing was because he hadn't got to spend enough time with her for the shine to wear off. Great sex, a body that haunted his dreams and a personality that had almost convinced him there was such a thing as relationships outside of bed…

Nothing to obsess over.

He'd slept with plenty of women in the past few months, hoping that it could wipe away the memory of that wild encounter.

"What about her?" he asked, giving the floor his full attention.

"You and my daughter have…"

Oh, shit.

Have what? Had inappropriate relations? Had a hundred or so mutual orgasms? Had enough emotional intensity between them to fuel a Mexican telenovela?

"You have a lot in common."

Phew! he thought.

"You're both intense, focused individuals with strong ethics and career goals," his said, a hint of hesitation in his tone. Yep, the man really knew what people were looking for in each other at this day and age.

"Coach, are you trying to set me up with Elsa?"

'After she shut me out?' is the other unspoken question, but he didn't really know how to bring that up and what would he say about it, anyways?

"Let's just say I'd be stoked with the idea of you and my daughter building a relationship together."

"I'm sorry, coach. But I already told you, I'm not interested in a relationship. Besides," Jack couldn't resist adding, "I have a dangerous career. The chances of me being hurt or worse, killed," the images of Edmund's last fight entered his mind once again and he fisted his hands at the bitter memory. "Aren't insignificant. That's a lot to ask someone to live with."

Agdar waved his concern away which didn't surprise Jack. But his next words nearly did. "Her career is just as dangerous as yours, if not, even more so. Five years ago she nearly got herself killed while climbing a mountain in Siberia. She's not going to worry about how safe your job is."

"I'd worry. You know as well as I do that being a fighter requires absolute focus. How can you give it that focus if part of you…" Jack winced, before continuing. "How do you do your job, how do you fight if your thoughts are back home, worrying about the people who are worrying about you?"

Deciding to end the conversation he added. "I appreciate you considering me suitable for your daughter," he said, doing a careful verbal tap dance. "But, again, my career is my priority right now. I don't feel there's room for a relationship."

Clearly, that wasn't what Winterhaven wanted to hear. Face closed tight, his coach fished out his phone from his pocket. "I've still got to make the call. I'll tell White that you're up for the match. We'll continue this discussion some time, Jack. You may leave now."

"I think we've finished it already, coach."

He didn't wait for a response. There was no point.

AN: Heel Hooks. I fucking hate them.

In MMA language, 'Bas Rutten Special' means kick to the midsection.

'Hop Hop Elbow Of Death' is the name the fans had given to Dan Henderson's awesome knock out finish of Hector Lombard at UFC 199.

'185' means the middleweight division.

If you watch Rousimar Palhares' fights, you'll know why Jack called him 'The Injury Bug'.

I don't normally reply to guest reviews but for the 'Guest' who asked me what I feel about the Diaz/McGregor rematch, I can make an exception.

Here's my reply: It's not just the fight that was pandemonium. It was the entire event, UFC 202. Every fight leading up to Diaz/McGregor 2 ended in spectacular fashion, with Donald Cerrone showing us yet another impressive performance with that Tekken combo on Rick Story. The guy's had three fights in this year alone and all of them ended with him finishing it, seriously Cowboy, how do you do it? Then there's Anthony Johnson's shocking 13 second knockout of Glover Teixeira, which will undoubtedly get a nomination for KO of the Year (though I still think Hendo's KO of Lombard is this year's best knockout). By the time Diaz/McGregor was on, the of roof my house was literally about to go off. And BOOM! Just like that. We have a Fight of the Year candidate. And here I am thinking that nothing could top Lawler/Condit. The decision could have gone either way, though I kinda wish Nate won.

Diaz/McGregor 3 anyone? How about DC/Rumble 2?

Anyway, thanks for reading, everyone. See you soon for the next chapter.

PS: All due respect to both Nate and Conor, but Rory motherfucking MacDonald would make those two look like a couple of bums. Big time. Since he already did a number on Diaz, I would like to see him fight McGregor at 170.

But it will probably never happen since Dana 'The Mole Rat' White cut him from the UFC.

That said, fuck you Dana White and fuck your stupid Reebok deal.