Post by Jeremiah Sykes on May 13, 2008 10:05:23 GMT -8
Left fist. Right palm. Spinning heel kick. Jeremy through punch after punch into the bag, working his massive muscles, breaking a little sweat, and remembering old moves. His mind was elsewhere. Thinking back on a time when he used to do this at home, or at his old school. His mother would stomp down to the basement, telling him off for making so much noise. His father, who always worked at the mill, was never really home during the times he trained, so he didn't hear much from him. Jeremy threw another punch. He couldn't help but wonder about the fire. He had gone to the store, bought a loaf of break and a gallon of milk, only to come back and find they're house burned to the ground.
By a runaway brush fire?
Bullshit.
His dad was an outspoken miller, letting everyone know who would listen why they shouldn't sell they're mill to Osburth industries. He could hear his father now.
"They underpay, the overwork, and they sell at three times the price! DON'T SELL THE MILL!" With the mill being the only one left in Oklahoma that hadn't been sold, it was all Osburth Industries needed to have full control of that portion of the state.
A brush fire?
How could he have left his house without seeing so much as a scant of smoke, go to the store, and come back in twenty minutes with his house engulfed in flames. It just didn't make any sense. And what where the chances that an Osburth Industries worker was the one who spotted the fire?
Another punch hit. Then another,harder this time. Then another. Finally Jeremy brought his left around, hitting the bag as hard as he could. It broke off the chain, skidding across the ground and slamming into the wall on the far side of the gym. As it hit, there was a loud crack, and as Jeremy looked closer, he saw that he had embedded the bad into the wall, and he immediately regretted letting his strength get out of hand. How was he to train now?
He reached down, scooping up his bag full of his clothes and headed out, walking across the school grounds on his way to the pool. He stopped, eyes locking on to an extremely tall building in the middle of the school grounds. Shrugging, he headed off toward it. Why not? nothing better to do. He stopped in front of the main doors, taking a quick look up to the top of the building, then opened the doors.
'This otta be interesting...' He thought.
By a runaway brush fire?
Bullshit.
His dad was an outspoken miller, letting everyone know who would listen why they shouldn't sell they're mill to Osburth industries. He could hear his father now.
"They underpay, the overwork, and they sell at three times the price! DON'T SELL THE MILL!" With the mill being the only one left in Oklahoma that hadn't been sold, it was all Osburth Industries needed to have full control of that portion of the state.
A brush fire?
How could he have left his house without seeing so much as a scant of smoke, go to the store, and come back in twenty minutes with his house engulfed in flames. It just didn't make any sense. And what where the chances that an Osburth Industries worker was the one who spotted the fire?
Another punch hit. Then another,harder this time. Then another. Finally Jeremy brought his left around, hitting the bag as hard as he could. It broke off the chain, skidding across the ground and slamming into the wall on the far side of the gym. As it hit, there was a loud crack, and as Jeremy looked closer, he saw that he had embedded the bad into the wall, and he immediately regretted letting his strength get out of hand. How was he to train now?
He reached down, scooping up his bag full of his clothes and headed out, walking across the school grounds on his way to the pool. He stopped, eyes locking on to an extremely tall building in the middle of the school grounds. Shrugging, he headed off toward it. Why not? nothing better to do. He stopped in front of the main doors, taking a quick look up to the top of the building, then opened the doors.
'This otta be interesting...' He thought.
