“Hammerhand” Blake Luthor punches a punching bag. It’s what a big guy with little wrestling experience does. He punches things. Left and a right, slamming fists into the bag that looks to be a little on the lumpy side.
Luthor: Zoran Sainovic. Me, an internet troll? I don’t have much interest with being on the internet. My hands just don’t allow for holding very many small devices. They were built for more violent affairs.
Blake turns his hands over to look at them for a moment. Claws more like that don’t straighten anymore from the hundreds of surgeries inflicted upon them during his years as an underground pit fighter. He strikes the punching bag a few more times, grunting with a grin as the punching bag shudders and groans.
Luthor: You did reverse my name, but it’s no big deal. People tend to do that more often that you would think. You say I’m fighting politics? Unless you have someone else coming down to the ring to fight your battle for you, I think it’s just you and me in that ring there. Unless of course, Ryan Cullen deems it necessary to send in back up to completely demolish you. If he does that, understand that it wasn’t my idea. I would crush you with my bare hands.
Blake places the butt of his palm to the punching bag to still it before drawing his fist back and punching it with a mighty blow. He feels satisfaction as the punching bag crunches and muffled screams come from within the punching bag.
Luthor: Zoran, you say that in previous shows that only the least of the crop was sent to face the other federations. How do you know that this isn’t still the case? You are sending yourself, but how are you not the least of the crop? I’ve done my homework. Are you a Radu? Jonnie Valentine? Trevor Jones? Rally Jackson? Cobryn? No? You are a name that I have not seen outside of an office. You think yourself worthy of getting past me? I will spend some time to tell you what I’m going to do to you. I am going to describe the kind of pain that you are going to feel when I break your bones under my hammerhands. You think yourself a winner, but you’re more of the same disdain sent by SWAT. The company that’s so elite that they hide their top tier warriors for fear that they might get crushed underfoot.
Blake strikes the punching bag a few more times before stopping the bag with both hands. He unzips it and a half-naked man covered in bruises falls out to the floor. He brings himself up to his hands and knees before vomiting blood onto the floor. Blake walks over to a table where he picks up a baggie of pills. He examines them for a moment before tossing them back to the table in disgust.
Luthor: You think I can’t tell the difference between Walmart’s Tylenol and oxies? You went to Walmart, spent ten bucks on pills, poured them into a baggie, and sold them to me as oxies.
Man: Those are what my man gave me. I swear I wasn’t trying to screw you over!
Blake steps on the man’s right hand, twisting his foot to grind into the hand. The man gasps in pain, trying to pull his hand out from under the shoe.
Luthor: You telling me you don’t know the difference between retail pain pills and prescription pain pills?
Blake steps off the man’s hand. He draws himself up to his knees, looking up at Blake.
Man: I’ll get you the real stuff. I swear it! Just, don’t kill me.
Blake grins sadistically, feigning a punch to the head that nearly has the man fainting after he flinches.
Luthor: You make sure that you do or else you’re going to wind up like Zoran Sainovic in the middle of the ring with a shattered ribcage.
Man: Who is Zoran Sainovic?
Luthor: The man standing in the way of me getting my X*Crown title shot at Supremacy. I’m going to break him with these hands.
Man: He doesn’t stand a chance against you, man!
Blake grins. He knows the drug pusher is just kissing his ass in the hopes of not getting hit again.
Luthor: Go. Take these dime store dollar pills with you and come back with the real deal. Don’t make me hunt you down. I will kill you if I have to hunt you down.
The man stands up, swallowing hard.
Man: I’ll get you what you need, man. I promise on my life!
Blake watches as the man leaves the gym. He smiles at the stares he gets from other patrons of the gym.
Luthor: What? Anyone fancy taking his place? Keep on staring.
Blake laughs as everyone around him makes sure to look away from him, unwilling to take the man’s place inside of the punching bag.
Luthor: We going to have fun, Zoran Sainovic. Once the match is over and you’re leaving on a stretcher, remember that you at least have your job as commissioner for SWAT to fall back on.
