Please note that I was unable to retrieve a copy of the current Punch Out game and could only recieve data from cutscenes from YouTube and data from other Punch Out authors, so please forgive me if I get the character's personality or their speech wrong. Also, I've created Rachel to be sort of a paramedic for the team, just to add in a little staff to the WVBA, so forgive me if she is a little sue-ish upon accident. Please enjoy, and send feedback for advice on the character's moods and daily behavior, as well as the usual grammar correction and story flow.
"I JUST KICKED YOUR DISCO ASS!!!!"
Disco Kid glared at Aran Ryan as he punched the doors to the changing room open, wincing at the swelling in his left cheek. "We all saw Ryan; no need to scream it to the sky!" He yelled out, letting a small groan out and grit his teeth in pain. Ryan just continued to punch the lockers and laugh in victory, paying no heed to his opponent's shout. Giving up, the Kid turned around and walked away, looking for the doctor.
Ryan calmed down and opened his locker, hanging his gloves up and taking out a towel. A quick strip of clothes and the Irishman rushed to the showers with towel in hand. He turned the shower on in a quick twist and hot water fell upon his body. "Another victory, another chance to screw with the showers." He muttered to himself, grinning wickedly as millions of ideas flooded in. 'Fill the shower head with soup mix…no wait, glue! No, too slow, probably honey…yeah, that will work better! Maybe switch the hot and cold knobs on the showers…'
The sudden slam snapped him from his thought, making him look around the shower room. "Hey Disco! Gave up on the doctor?" He asked, but received no reply. Shutting the shower off, he wrapped the towel around his waist and crept into the locker area, looking around for the source of the sudden slam. Finally, the source was found lurking around his locker, pulling out his various photographs and lucky charms. "HEY! GET YOUR HANDS OUT OF MY LOCKER!" He yelled out, stomping towards the intruder and used his free hand to unleash a ferocious right hook; or at least it would've been unleashed if the intruder didn't stop it with its right hand.
"Wha' tha?" He muttered, feeling the strength the opposite force was using to hold his fist, then turned its head and stared at the Irishman with yellow, bug-like eyes.
"Disco, this is amazing how your jaw nearly came unhinged after your fight." The female medic said with her blue eyes glued to an X-Ray of Disco Kid's head. "Not only that, but there are some cracks in your skull; specificly near the left cheek bone." The Kid grimaced at the news, shifting his gaze back and forth between the Brunette and his X-Rays. "Well…" he began, "He must've used horseshoes in his gloves again…"
The doctor sighed in agitation, pushing up her glasses and pushing back her long hair. "Damn Ryan." She muttered, "I don't understand why the WVBA allowed that madman in!" Disco Kid chuckled and said, "They allowed Macho Man, Hippo King and Bear Hugger into this; why not someone like him too?" The woman tapped the Kid's jaw, making him cringe in pain. "Don't talk so much; unless you want a serious aftermath when your jaw heals." She then began to walk out of her office with the Kid trailing behind her. "Stay in the office Kid." She commanded, "I want Ryan to see what happened. Time for the doctor to treat the Irishman."
The doctor rushed down the hallway, her stride quick and her movements close to that of a soldier's. The sight of the doors to the changing room made her break into a near sprint, feeling her strict, commanding mood rise in her chest. But when the doors were pushed open, her strict moods melted into fear, and surprise.
The locker room was a mess; locker doors ripped off and bent in half while the lockers themselves were toppled over and dented, personal items and boxing wear scattered around and ripped to shreds, several overhead lights ripped from their circuits and hanging by a few wires, the benches ripped from the floor and broken in half. A soft moan rose from the chaos, making her dart into the wooden and steel mess and began pulling away debris. "Hello?" She began, "Hello, are you alright?"
She threw a detached door away and saw Ryan's battered and bloody face. "Sis…is that you?" He muttered, only to have his eye pried open and have a pen light shine into it. "Ryan…Ryan, it's me; Rachel. Can you feel your limbs?" Ryan clenched his eyes and said, "Sis, keep your spotlight to yourself!" Sighing, Rachel continued to dig debris away from the Irishman, finding blood coated on some of the metal and wood. She then began to grab his arms and carefully tried to pull the hurt man from the wreckage. "Ow…ow...owww…I think something's up me arse..." He muttered, but the female dared not to look. "Lean on me, we're going straight to the hospital. Can you walk?" The Irishman looked at her and said, "You're smaller than me; how ya gonna get me there?!" But the doctor merely said, "Details, details…"
Later, thanks to a passerby boxer, Ryan was dragged to the medical bay and was carefully laid upon a cot, a black, thin sheet covering him as he struggled to keep consciousness. Rachel began dialing for an ambulance while Disco Kid and the assisting boxer, Don Flamenco kept watch on the injured man. "The ambulance will be here in a few minutes." She announced as she slipped the phone into its cradle. "We have to keep an eye on him in case something arises." Disco Kid just shook his head slightly and said, "I guess what goes around comes around. He looks worse than that time he tried to switch Popinski's soda with vinegar and got caught." Without moving his dark eyes, Don asked, "How did he get this way medico?" Without a beat, the doctor replied, "I have no idea. I found him buried under a mountain of debris made of the lockers, wooden benches, and I think part of the wall. From the look of this, he looks like he is suffering from a concussion, a broken leg or spine, internal bleeding; the list goes on and on."
"I hate to say it, but I don't think even Ryan deserved this." The Kid commented, moving away from Ryan as Rachel enclosed her hand in his. "Don, I need you to watch for the ambulance; try and look for anyone suspicious passing by while you're at it. Kid, go around and tell the other's about this; maybe they know something about this." The two obeyed and left the two alone, feeling a chill shiver down their spines.
"Who do you think did it?"
Don perked up at this while the two walked down the hallway, then turned his gaze to Disco Kid. "In my opinion," he began, "No idea; anyone could've done it, but everyone has una coartada. You said you were the last man to see him before he was beaten; and as far as I'm concerned, everyone was either in the gym or the ring." The Kid tried to think, but he grimaced again, gritting his teeth and muttering, "Rachel forgot to put a support on my jaw…"
Don sighed and said, "Go back and get one; we don't need another boxer beaten to a pulp." The Kid muttered back, "I gotta tell the-" But Don grabbed his shoulders, turned him around and pushed him down where they once traveled. "Go get one!" The Spaniard demanded, "If I pass by somebody, I'll tell them to pass the word." Without another word, the dancer walked down the hallway, holding his sore jaw. "Te lo juro, yo soy el único aquí con algo de sentido común." He muttered in his native language, "Voy a perder mi cabeza uno de estos días."
Don froze at the sudden outburst, feeling his usual suave self froze in fear. But snapped out of it and broke into a run, hoping to get to the source in time to save the victim and see the attacker.
'That was Mr. Macho…' The Matador thought, 'That means…the attacker is in the gym!' Then pushed him to run faster, staring straight ahead of him while the sides blurred by him.
"THIS IS SO BO-GAH!" "SNAP!" "OH MY-AGH!"
'DAMN IT, I'M RUNNING SO SLOW!!' He screamed in his mind, pushing himself more with each echo of pain and destruction as they echoed down the hallways, sounding ten times as ominous. He could feel his adrenaline race through his veins with his blood, his heart pump harder than ever. He felt the need to scream race to his throat when he could feel his finish line grow closer to him. He finally threw his hands out in front of him and screamed a war cry as the Gym doors approached him like a wave. But the sight before him made his urgency emotions froze instantly.
Before him, punching bags were shredded to pieces on the floor, roof tiles pulled down and broken, weight sets dismantled and imbedded into the walls, and dummies torn in two. Don took cautious steps into the debris jungle, shifting his gaze for a sign of life; a moan, a shift in the rubble, a cry for help, anything to keep the Matador hopeful. A soft moan made him turn to a pile of torn bags made him dash and franticly dig through the sand until a sand-filled scream made him jump back. From the pile, Macho Man shook the sand off his head and gasped for air while Don stared on.
As he stood up, he displayed the damage done to him; the millions of sand-filled cuts on his chest, legs and arms, the blanket of bruises that covered almost every inch of his skin, and the horrible swelling on the left side of his face. He muttered darkly, "If I ever see that little bastard one more time, I will rip his arms off." Don snapped from his shock and asked, "Who did this?" The man of California snorted out sand and said, "It's some punk I never seen before! I swear, I WILL BEAT HIM TO A BLOODY PULP IF I SEE HIM AGAIN!" The Spaniard sighed and said, "Let's get you down to Rachel's office; maybe she can clean you up before the ambulance arrives."
"This is really serious…"
The doctor started at the newest member of the Sick Bay as she waited professional help, biting down on a tongue depressor to calm herself. Macho reached out to her, saying, "Come here; biting on something wooden won't help you or us. Let me hold you so you cam calm down." But the female turned around and pointed a scalpel at his face, saying, "Touch me and I will dissect your face. I don't need a self-indulged man hug for stress relief; I need to know who is trying to kill us!"
Macho Man smirked and said, "I can tell what the guy looks like, but only if you agree to go on a date with me!" Rachel turned around and gave him a death glare evil enough to make Death himself fall down dead. "Ok, doll face, I was just kidding." He said in defense, "I will tell what he looked like." The woman relaxed and took a pen and a pad of paper in a quick motion, then nodded for him to begin.
"Well," He began, "he was a short guy, but he had yellow eyes, and he didn't have any hair; four horns instead. He was completely grey skinned, didn't have a nose, mouth, or ears, and had these sort of…fin things on the back of his spine. Oh, and he had only four fingers and his feet look like he had any toes." The doctor held up a hand and said, "Wait, he didn't have any toes? Did this mean he was completely naked?" Macho Man shrugged and said, "I think so, he wasn't wearing a shirt, or pants; but he looked completely smooth…"
"Alright, I think that's enough Macho." The doctor said, "We're dealing with something that is either an alien or some monstrosity created by evil human hands." Silence followed, The California man looking at her while Ryan lay on the cot unconscious. Footsteps down the hallway made her dart to the doorway and sigh in relief as Don, along with the paramedics rushed towards her. Instantly, she got out of the way and spoke rapidly of the conditions of the two men. The paramedics lifted the cot containing Ryan and carried him out while Macho Man followed behind, giving Rachel a quick wink before leaving. She rolled her eyes in annoyance and watched the group depart. "Did you find out what we're dealing with?" Don asked, a hint of urgancy in his voice.
With a dark overtone, she muttered, "We're dealing with a monster."
To be continued.