A Little Something Extra

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A Little Something Extra

Post by DoS Archive » Wed Mar 02, 2005 5:00 pm

From: ticallioncarter@aol.com (Ticallion Carter)
Date: 18 Nov 2003 18:07:39 EST

"They say the only person who can truly tell how much they have within them, how much they can stand before they collapse, is the person who is actually crazy enough to push themselves. Not to push themselves to the point right before collapse. No. To push themselves past that point..."

~~

Tical just stood there silently. His breathing had returned to normal by now, a change from the rapid intake and exhale he had been performing for the past couple of hours. The sweat that had collected on his face and body was no longer a nuisance. In fact, he welcomed it. As if it was a strange sort of baptismal water that was giving him a rebirth. His mind was empty, but if he had a thought it would have been back before he came here. When he was studying martial arts back in Brooklyn, one of his teachers had taught him something. There comes a point where you don't see anything except what you need to see. Focus births clarity. In his mind, he didn't think that though. He didn't think or hear anything. All he saw was the heavy bag in front of him, it swung back and forth slowly and calmly. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back...

One last swing and the bag didn't complete it's cycle. It wasn't even on the hook it had been swinging from. Now it was in half, sand spilling out onto the floor of the exercise room inside Kitsune Stadium. Tical turned around to glance at the bag. Suddenly everything else came spilling back into focus like the sand from the bag. He lowered the longsword and ran his free left hand across his forehead.

"Damn..now that's somethin' else that's goin' to come out of my paycheck."

He glanced down at the longsword and let out another slow exhale. This was the second time he had been through this. The first time, he had went through the Warlord's Tournament, though. That, in and of itself, was enough training. Maybe that's why he had gotten so close to dethroning the man who was arguably the greatest fighter in the history of the Arena. But, who was he kidding? That was never enough for him, another thing he had learned from the streets was that almost wasn't the same as actual accomplishment. Almost was what people who didn't have what it took to accomplish something told themselves to feel better. Almost doesn't count.

Now, though, now was the second time. He almost wondered to himself why he was doing this. Why he was putting himself through the ringer again for a few short moments that a fight usually lasted. He didn't even have to think of the answer, though. He knew it. He always knew it. Even though he had been through it before, it didn't make it easier. It didn't make him any less calm. It was because he had to prove himself as the best. Winning a prize in a Warlord Tournament didn't make you the best. Winning a Baron's Ring didn't make you the best. Winning a challenge and defending your ring didn't make you the best. Only one thing counted, and in the back of his mind it had always counted. First it had been a slight whisper, but everytime he grew closer to establishing himself as the best, as the Overlord, that whisper grew to a furious roar.

So, that was why he did this... that is why everyday for the last countless number of days he had pushed himself to his breaking point.

His thoughts had come full circle now as he glanced down at his granite-like caramel colored forearms, his right hand still clutching the longsword. Physically, he was prepared. He probably always had been. But mentally, he wouldn't know. In less than a few hours, though...he'd certainly find out. So instead of resting with that uncertainty, he did the only thing he could do..

He started looking for his physical breaking point again.
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