Chapter 4:
A/N: I am so SORRY. I hated this long wait myself. I tried several times to make a decent chapter four and realised I couldn't literally couldn't. So I waited. I watched all of these movies involved obsessively (including ones by other actors who's movie plots aren't involved just for ideas) but nothing. Also STAILS565 has asked can they (The Expendables Fan-Fiction page on face book) make my fic into Manga. Which I agreed to completely so keep a look out, especially if you like this fic and its predecessor. Still I'm so sorry for the wait.
Meanwhile (As Tribute show starts):
Rocky glanced around the house that was his... body-sharer? One third of his soul? Y'know what he meant.
In the corner was a comfy looking, leather couch besides a dark wooded coffee table. In front of it by seven feet and to the left of a window stood a basic but large television. There was also a lot of gym equipment and fold up tables covered in maps, folders of what was possibly case files and pictures of people on colour or in black and white with a moderately sized 'X' through their fore heads.
He approached another room and it opened into a tidier kitchen, it was neat and up to date. Probably. He spotted a portable computer on the dining table but he ignored it and shut the door again. There was one more door and a set of stairs across the room. It was a fairly open-plan place and despite the somewhat cluttered, messy tables it was clean and pleasant.
He tried the other door when he heard Mickey and Tool arguing playfully about which was better, Red Bull or Monster? He scoffed to himself. Gatorade was better than both.
He saw the room was clean and bright. And full of exercise equipment. It was just as large as the front room, it had its own scaled down boxing ring (scaled down by 30%), weights, punching bags and all sorts of boxing training gear. And all modern equipment for different sports too, treadmills, cross-trainer, benches, steps and rowing machines completed the rooms. And of course pull up bars in all styles:
There was a ledge that stuck out 1.6m from the wall and was six feet off the floor. No doubt so he could hang his torso and top part of his legs off and lower and raise himself. Two separate hand holds to help him adapt to using both his arms equally and the basic bar.
Basically he couldn't wait to get started.
-/Two Hours Later (After tribute show finished)/=
Rocky hadn't changed into any of his ego's while doing two hours of cardio training, well endurance cardio exercises such as rowing. He had done eight twelve-minute reps with a three minute break imbetween each. In the breaks he drank plenty of water and a little Gatorade to keep electrolytes up. And glucose energy.
"C'mon Rocky, two hours man. It's seven pm. Surely you want something to eat right? Isn't it good for you or something?" Tool moaned while Mickey looked on proudly, if a little tiredly. He wasn't getting younger and he was already way into his eighties.
"No, it's a little late to eat anything that will prevent me getting enough sleep, or converting it to fat in my sleep and nothing useful over this week" Rocky said. He might go get a protein shake though, hopefully his counter-part kept them.
He stopped.
"Half an hour of muscle building and then I'll have a protein shake and relax" he amended.
"Fine, I'm goin' to watch telly" Tool called over his shoulder as he walked to the couch. He could hear the quiet noise of the television programmes as he trained. The talking voiced reminded him of the old gym and it helped.
He easily lifted the fifty pound weight, he usually hefted more but that was a bad idea since he planned to be asleep in two hours. The exercise on that level would keep him pumped for longer.
Steadily the half hour passed and he mopped his brow down with a towel which he slung over his shoulders too let the cold scratchy fabric cool his the hot spot on the back of his neck.
"You done kid?" Mick asked.
"For now, Imma go get a protein shake or something and relax. Then I'll go bed. What about you and Tool?" Rocky asked.
"Eh, I gotta place to be and I expect Tool will go home. Good night Rock" Mickey said walking over to hug Rocky lightly. It was probably the fifth time it had occurred in their almost forty year friendship. Mick wasn't touchy-feely like Rocky.
"G'night Mick" Rocky said hugging back gently.
"Rocky, I'm going to drop Mick off and go home. Do you need anything? Or would you like to come?" Tool asked stepping to the door also.
"Nah, on both accounts" Rocky said as they left the gym and Rocky followed them to the front door.
They said goodbye and 'see ya tomorrow' etcetera, etcetera and Rocky locked the door before wandering into the kitchen for that shake.
-/Next Day/=
Tool groaned as he slowly and groggily opened his weary eyes and shifted his rested yet still tired body. Maybe he would enjoy a little indulgence today and sleep the whole day.
Bike engines rev in his parlour below.
But then again maybe not, he thinks to himself half exasperated, half grateful something convinced him to get out of bed. He scowled though, as he hefted himself off the bed and reached around in his closet thingy for a shirt. He pulled it on but left his jog bottoms on for now.
It was slightly cold though so he put on the central heating before he took the elevator down; he never took the stairs. Lee was satin the parlour by himself, Tool frowned, what could be up with the baby of the group?
"What's up Christmas?" He called down.
"Oh hey Tool" Lee said ignoring Tool's question.
"What?" He asked again as the elevator stopped. He exited the lift and walked towards Christmas; who was sat on his bike, and sat on his own motorcycle. Well one of them anyway.
"Nothing Tool. But I was wondering, don't you think you should stop Rocky? He can't do a grudge match" Lee looked slightly flustered, Tool frowned sympathetically.
"Well, he's done it before though hasn't he? Ivan Drago. It's not that different" Tool said shrugging.
"Yes it is, this Gazzo, the Cut-Throats whatever, they won't stick to boxing rules will they? They'll shoot him or stab him" Lee protested, and he had a point.
"I know Lee, but even Rocky coped with stuff before and it won't just be him will it? It'll be all of them. Y'know this schizophrenia? Yeah, you know why people develop it?" Tool asked.
"No" Lee stated simply, "but you're going to tell me."
"Damn right, schizophrenics develop the... condition to protect themselves, usually from trauma of the mind but in some rare cases it's so they develop the mindset to protect their body. Now Ross is a soldier with a black heart, he needed Rambo's fierceness to push his heart away and protect his mind from the horrors of war. It didn't quite work because they both suffered PTSD anyway. So his mind tried something different. A family man with a fighting soul. A boxer with heart. And then a big heart for his family, Lee, Barney... well Rocky got a criminal record there y'know because of assault, on many degrees too, and street fighting. Which he won, most of the time and illegal boxing."
Lee still didn't look convinced. Tool sighed loudly.
"Talk to Mick, he can tell you more" Tool frowned disappointed that his friend didn't have enough faith in his bosses.
"No, I'm convinced. I'll just keep my knives ready and a gun in hand. I'm sure the guys'll do the same. Gazzo will fight dirty and apparently so will our Fearless Leader" Lee huffed quietly.
"This little break-down of sorts never happened" Tool promised solemnly.
"Good, and it wasn't a breakdown" Lee protested outraged, good-naturedly of course.
"Yeah, yeah, are you gonna wait here 'til the guys come? Coz I'm going to pick Mick up at one" Tool said. That gave him four hours with Lee, and three with the guys if they come at ten like usual.
"Sure, wonder if any of them have an issue" Lee muttered the last part more to himself.
"Eh, probably. You're a needy group" he joked and dodged Lee's mock punch.
"Look Lee, you can get bulls-eye and all that but I totally outrank you in hand-to-hand and you know it" Tool boasted.
"Yeah and Barney beats you so there" Lee teased.
"Yeah but Barney ain't here to protect you now" Tool said putting on a fake, evil sounding accent with an intimidating chuckle. Well, intimidating if it wasn't one of the guys.
Lee burst out laughing.
Tool did too.
-/Philadelphia, Andy's bar/=
"Gazzo, I got your money" a tall dark haired Caucasian male said.
"Mmm, who from?" Gazzo asked. His grey hair was hidden partially by a beret cap. His sunglasses perched on the end of his nose and he was glaring straight ahead. At Andy's poster of Rocky from thirty years ago. Gazzo was in his late sixties too now, and was probably fitter than when he was thirty.
Since killing Robert, by accident, they though it was Sam O'Neil, they looked remarkably similar from a distance, he had trained up as much as he could, with a little muscle stimulant to help him along the way. He thought Rocky would come for him. It'd been in the news but since they couldn't determine which one did it, except they knew that Gazzo wasn't there, the men's frames from CCTV were too large for it to be him.
But nothing, but Gazzo didn't relax.
"Nathan Hughes, $1,200" his lackey said.
"Good" he held out his hand for the money before sifting out £300 and giving it to his lackey.
He was a cruel man, but he respected those who worked for him, a little. Of course he'd always favoured Balboa and was sorry he killed his son indirectly. But tough, like Rocky would believe that.
-/Mick's hotel 10am/=
Mickey yawned as he awoke. The clock on the bedside table told him it was ten. Time to get dressed, but first shower.
Once he'd finished his shower he pulled on a black t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms, and jacket. And his old hat. He smiled nostalgically as he thought of thirty years ago. Already an old man then, and even older now. He was surprised he survived that damn heart attack after Lang.
He had cereal for breakfast, some of that cholesterol removing stuff, on doctors request. Although he had to admit it tasted alright.
-/Barney's place eleven am/=
Barney woke up groggily, must have switched in his sleep.
He looked at the clock on the wall, dammit! Eleven am. Way too much sleep.
He shook his head and quickly got changed into a track suit, something he hadn't worn much of since his fifties.
It was black and simple with grey stripes and the Adidas logo blazoned across it in grey also. He replaced the matching jacket with his old tiger one that Rocky bought years ago with Adrian.
He hadn't worn it in years. Like he hadn't worn his oldest leather one in years.
The taste was all Rocky's but Barney didn't mind, it was all comfortable and mostly practical. Except that old hat, 'specially in winter when it would just blow off.
He smiled though as one of Rocky's memories of snatching it out of the air, hanging half of a bridge while Adrian giggled away beside him.
Rocky had had the life Barney or Rambo never could, but through him they had achieved it. Experienced family life, and lost it.
And with that depressing thought he rushed into his kitchen and had a quick breakfast of some iron enriched cereal thing. And coffee. And a glass of eight large egg proteins.
He finished up and headed out for a jog around the land he owned before going into the gym and doing twenty pull-ups, starting out lightly. Then rowing machines and pectoral fly. He worked at each hard, and built up a bit of sweat, his tiger jacket was hooked up on one of the pull-up bars and his shirt had followed it. He grabbed both, shoved the shirt and pants in the washing basket as he stripped for a hot shower.
Once he was done, he was wearing another tracksuit with the tiger jacket again. This time he left the house and took his truck to Mick's hotel even though it wasn't even half twelve. He beeped his horn and Mick's disapproving face peeked out the window before spotting Barney and waving that he'd be down in a minute.
He was and he walked slowly to the truck.
"Y'know, Tool was s'pose to pick me up" he said.
"I know, jus' get in Mickey" Barney said, Rocky's affection for the man creeping in a little.
Soft came Rambo's distinctly rough thoughts.
Am not
I ain't
Both Rocky and Barney protested.
Soo aree Rambo drawled through their mind.
A/N: So what do you think? Is it better or worse writing than before? Do you like the little interaction between the three at the end?
Also by the way, I am bending the schizophrenia condition symptoms and causes to fit the story and not all of it is strictly true.