01-22-2021, 06:03 PM
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trigger warnings alcohol, death, lots of blood, profanity, heavy violence, religion.
tags 45 years old, difficult/hard opponent, nonviolent interactions are open, pm or ask for violent interactions.
tags 45 years old, difficult/hard opponent, nonviolent interactions are open, pm or ask for violent interactions.
"speech" 'thought' text
It had been a month or so since he’d punched Teddy. The satisfying crunch of his jaw underneath Mike’s fist still rang in his ears. Even his hand being crushed underneath a meat tenderizer, and the sharp intense feeling of bones breaking, and the dull pain afterwards which still lingered even now, couldn’t overshadow the satisfaction of planting his fist into Teddy’s far too symmetrical face.
The well built man sat in the bar. The lights were dimmed the bartender had since closed up, but had not asked Mike to leave. Or maybe he had and Mike just hadn’t paid attention. There were still a few members of the Badlands who were scared of him. Or perhaps respected him somewhat, though why he did not know...
His dark eyes flitted around the mostly empty room. He had a mostly full bottle of alcohol next to him. A glass was in his hand, and he took a few sips, letting the alcohol burn down his throat. His stomach roiled. Drinking on an empty stomach was never a good idea, and yet that was what he was doing right now.
He’d drink. Drink to forget, drink to oblivion. Drink to die. His tolerance from alcohol was high, high from the drink he’d been drinking off and on for the past twenty-five years. He swallowed more of the drink, emptying the glass and filling it back up from the bottle.
His hands shook, and he set down the bottle. His vision swam, but he continued drinking. It was the only way, aside from massive amounts of pain, that dulled the pain in his mind. Shrouded the memories he fought so hard to forget.
It had been a month or so since he’d punched Teddy. The satisfying crunch of his jaw underneath Mike’s fist still rang in his ears. Even his hand being crushed underneath a meat tenderizer, and the sharp intense feeling of bones breaking, and the dull pain afterwards which still lingered even now, couldn’t overshadow the satisfaction of planting his fist into Teddy’s far too symmetrical face.
The well built man sat in the bar. The lights were dimmed the bartender had since closed up, but had not asked Mike to leave. Or maybe he had and Mike just hadn’t paid attention. There were still a few members of the Badlands who were scared of him. Or perhaps respected him somewhat, though why he did not know...
His dark eyes flitted around the mostly empty room. He had a mostly full bottle of alcohol next to him. A glass was in his hand, and he took a few sips, letting the alcohol burn down his throat. His stomach roiled. Drinking on an empty stomach was never a good idea, and yet that was what he was doing right now.
He’d drink. Drink to forget, drink to oblivion. Drink to die. His tolerance from alcohol was high, high from the drink he’d been drinking off and on for the past twenty-five years. He swallowed more of the drink, emptying the glass and filling it back up from the bottle.
His hands shook, and he set down the bottle. His vision swam, but he continued drinking. It was the only way, aside from massive amounts of pain, that dulled the pain in his mind. Shrouded the memories he fought so hard to forget.
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MICHAEL FORD
Michael Ford is a 45 year old, man, he's stubbornly loyal to whatever cause he chooses, protective of his family and friends, he's a member of the Badlands. Michael has issues controlling his anger in most situations. He is a difficult opponent and well trained, feel free to power play nonviolent interactions though.