Fighting for L♥ve (closed)

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Full name Name: Michael Arthurian O’ Riley, goes by Mickey.
Height 6 1 ft
Weight 205 lb
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Green
Age: 23

Camp: Xtreme Couture

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The roar of the crowd was distant, a background to thoughts in his head. Kind of like those crickets you hear on a hot summers evening. It all came down to this, the training, the discipline the urge to get back in the ring. He’d been a fighter all his life, from the moment he’d come from his momma’s womb, to the time he knocked his abusive stepfather out, to the scraps in the school yards. Yet he’d kept his head up and never backed down. Even after the injury, when the doctor said he’d never run, let alone fight again.

He’d proved them wrong, not just the doctors but the doubters. He’d come back strong, agonizing physical therapy to strengthen that knee. This gave way to short runs and moderate weight lifting. Then the doctor had given him the all clear. He’d pushed himself hard; the coaches said they’d never seen a man so driven. He’d gotten in a good camp, and worked with some of the best in the industry. He’d improved his stand up and refined his ground game, worked on various holds that could make a man tap.

Tonight was his shot, to prove all of them wrong, and to move his way up in the standings. If he won tonight, he’d be guaranteed a title shot in the future. He didn’t care who it was, he’d plow through anything that stood in his way. He glanced up to his trainer as he finished taping his hands. Taking a permanent marker and marking the words “No Irish curse” and “Forge your own fate”, the gloves then were laced up.

“It’s time Mickey”

Rising up as he stepped to that open door, he looked past to the dim glow of the big screens, the flickering lights of cameras, the lights hovering over the octagon. As the opening chords of “The Warriors Code” by the Dropkick Murphys echoed throughout the sold out arena, “The Submission Specialist” Mickey O’ Riley stepped from the opening between the stands. His face covered with a towel, as he sported his dark green Tapout shirt “100 percent Irish ass kicker”, he walked to the ring with his entourage in tow.

Unlike the other 'girls', Katie decided not to go with too much make up, it just wasn't her preference to be drowning in make up. She didn't act like she was better than anyone else, but the other girls did. Obviously they've done this before and where whispering to each other and looking at Katie. They did have an up on her, they knew about this sport and she didn't. So, being the nerdy type she was, she had to look it up the night before and study what the sport was about.

At first she wasn't sure why the ring girls were needed, she had just come to the conclusion it was a manly sport and of course, they needed something pretty to look at.... but, after researching it more, she found out why...

".....In this deadly sport the ring girl balance the violence with her gentile look."

"Ahh...I see.." Katie mumbled to herself as she got ready that afternoon. Things had to make sense to her or else it just didn't belong...

With her skimpy outfit, a black bra top, with a few small logos of the sponsors, her shorts, as tight as they were, also had a few small logos. She wasn't set to go into the ring until just before the first round so she waited near the ring, watching the fighters come out...of course she didn't recognized any of their names but what did interest her in the sport was the small army that accompanied each fighter. It was a sight to see, that was for sure. She did like the music...

Mickey stepped into the octagon, looking around as he did. He glanced over to the person he was fighting. He really didn’t know him, nor did he care. Not at this moment, not at this moment at all. He was a stepping stone, he was the shoot he’d been looking for. No, its not like he hated the man, he simply was going to bulldoze past him. Mickey paced up and down his side of the cage and taking no notice of the fans.

He didn’t even notice as his opponent’s name or his record. Mickey was in that mindset, he was in his zone, he was a one man wrecking crew. He didn’t care what they said about him, his name, he’s record anything at all. Nicknames didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, it was all time to leave it in the ring.

“and fighting out of the blue corner, fighting in black and green, he is a master of Kempo and the Keysi Fighting Method, various street fights. He makes his triumphant return to the Octagon…he is the suuuuubbbmissssssionnnnnnnn speciaaaallllllllist……Miiiickkkkkkeeeeyyyyyyyyy OOOOOOOOOOOOOO’ Rileyyyyyyy.”

Tossing off his hood as he held his hands up, he turned and looked to the crowd. He'd tilted his head, as he looked over to the Ring Girls. Bunch of high class snobs they were. Stuck up with enough makeup to ice a cake, they often were the attentions of the men around here. Mickey didn't have much interest, he liked his women real and not caked in shyt. Then she caught his eye, the normal looking one. He'd pause a moment then he'd watch her as she stood on the edge of the octagon. Maybe he was gonna be a knockout in the ring..but dam if she wasn't one outside of it. She looked vaguely familiar....

Katie was watching the boards, which showed a series of numbers under each fighter's name and picture. She studied it and hadn't realized it but she was quickly producing percentages in her head.

Someone shoved a board at her and she absentmindedly took it, her mind now focusing on the job before hand. Holding up the board with the 'Round 1' printed on it, Katie made her way around the ring. She had been quickly instructed to stop by each fighter and show off in a way to get the attention of the camera.

As she reached the first fighter, Mickey, she stood by him, stopped for the cameras and posed. She kept repeating in her mind, "this is how I'm paying for school..." Then as she made her way to the other fighter, she stopped and that's when her good mood ended. The other fighter, punched the cage, startling Katie, who kept her footing. The guy laughed and said something to her but she paid no mind, all she heard was filthy things coming from him as she made her way down the steps...

What the hell was his problem anyway? She thought. She was only doing her job and he was telling her he was going to win for her?

"Wow..." she said under breath, talk about arrogant...

He watched her as she stood next to him and posed. There was something about her…he swore he knew her. He shook his head, clearing thoughts; this was no time to get lost in other matters. He needed to focus. He turned to look at this opponent. Punching the cage, seemed the guy was trying to get himself worked up. Then he caught wind of some of those words, and he scowled. No reason to be like that, the girls were just trying to make a living.

He stepped forward as the ref motioned them both over, explaining the rules and what not. Mickey’s icy glared was cold enough that the other fighter flinched lightly and looked away. As the both moved, waiting for the round to start.

As it begin, they touched gloves, and Mickey laid into the guy with a vicious combo of punches. Each punch wrecking havoc on the man’s face, blood and sweat flying side to side as iron hands knocked some sense into the man. He quickly backed up, only for Mickey to purse him. As the man kicked at him, Mickey blocked it, and slipped in lifting the man up and dropping him on the canvas. He snuck around the man’s head, locking his arms around his neck and leaning back in a submission hold.

The opponent wasn’t done though, as he flipped backwords, breaking the hold. He quickly latched onto Mickey’s arm, pulling back in a armbar submission. Away from the cage it looked like Mickey was in trouble. That is till Mickey, in a feat of strength, rose up from the hold, and lifted the man and dropping him back on the canvas in shades of Quentin Rampage Jackson.