1 The Accident (Rewritten)

On a rainy and gloomy day in July, within a dingy dockside warehouse in Florida, a gathering took place. A fight between two bare knuckle brawlers was set up by an independent Irish Mob. A brawl between a newcomer and the residing champion, whom was completely undefeated so far. Currently the champion was in a predicament however...

"OOOUUUUHHH!" Was the last thing he heard. The excited yell of the crowd, he was used to hearing it after all. So why did it feel so strange to his ears? Perhaps, it was because the yell wasn't for him.

It should've gone like normal...he'd walk out to the ring, clobber the idiot the promoter set him up to fight, get congratulated, then go home to wait on the bank notification.

So what the hell was this supposed to be!? Why were his arms broken, and his face swollen up like a Christmas ham!?

'Hooh...calm down, it might be first loss in 100 fights but its okay... The hell it is! What the hell was in that guys gloves? It felt like I was getting hit with brass knuckles, not 8 ounce gloves!' He thought, wincing with anger.

'I should've known someone would cheat eventually, but that doesn't make me feel any better. Anyways...where am I now?' he pondered as he tried to open his swollen eyes. He couldn't make out much, after all the newcomer has beaten his eyes into eggplants.

All he could see was a bright white light above him as he laid on his back. Perhaps he was taken to a hospital, or was riding in an ambulance. He didn't think that his bosses would just let him die after one loss, he was more valuable than that for sure.

"Can you hear me?" Said a very warm, female voice.

'Ah, definitely a hospital or ambulance. Welp, good news is I'm alive!' he mused, a little relieved he wasn't just tossed in an alleyway after his big loss.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions, please answer honestly no matter how odd they are." The unseeable voice said in the same sweet and soft tone.

'What a professional healthcare attendant!' he thought. He was used to mob doctors, very spiteful folk in his experience.

"How old are you, how much do you weight, how tall are you?" Said the voice, a very run of the mill question set. Its definitely an ambulance if they don't already have all that in a file.

"I'm 25..I weight 295lbs..I'm 6'8." he responded very weakly. Obviously he couldn't speak very loudly after being beaten within an inch of his life. On a side note, he did feel a bit bad for the paramedics, having to shove his big body onto a gurney and actually get him on the ambulance.

"Do you have any next of kin?" The womanly voice questioned. He couldn't help but feel like she was asking these out of order...

"No." he responded quickly. After all, he had no friends and no family to speak of so it was a pretty easy question to answer. As lonely as one might think that sort of life was, he felt pretty okay with it.

"What sort of life have you lived?" they asked.

'A bit personal...' he thought. He wasn't very keen on answering that, he didn't really like to be judged. It's not as if being a mob gladiator was on his list of dream jobs, it's just what he ended up doing. So what if it was violent? That's what he was good at, and it's not like he was killing people. Well...he wasn't usually killing people.

"N-None ya." He said. It wasn't her business so she had no right to ask unless it was medical related! Although maybe he was being harsh, that sort of question wouldn't be too out of the ordinary in this sort of situation...but still! Unprofessional.

"My apologies, what's your name?" The voice asked another question in their distinctly sweet tone.

'So polite, oh soft voiced paramedic! How could I stay mad at you? Seriously, this lady could talk me to sleep.' he thought, smiling weakly. Although his face was so swollen no one could tell he was actually smiling if they saw him.

"Arturo Willem." he responded. Again, pretty easy question. But he felt she should have asked earlier, it was honestly beginning to feel seriously unprofessional with how out of order the questions were.

"What do you think is your best quality?" the voice asked.

'Now that's a weird one..' he thought. Was this woman trying to hit on him? Horribly unprofessional. However...

"M-Muscles." he said, barely managing to get the word out as he was beginning to feel weaker. Even if it was weird, he still felt obligated to answer honestly. And he truly did feel like his muscles were his greatest quality. It's what he's worked the hardest for and it's what's carried him throughout life so far. He was proud of the temple he built, his body.

He waited quietly to be asked another question, but none came. Only silence.

'Weird...no more questions? None?' he thought. It was deathly quiet, uncomfortably so. Perhaps he died, and this was what death was. Or maybe he just went deaf, after all, getting your head smashed in tends to tamper with one's... everything.

After a little while, he could feel a bit more energy coursing through him. The swelling seemed to have gone down and he was finally able to open his eyes proper. And what did he see? Stone. A stone ceiling.

He sat up, swiveling his head around to see he was sitting naked on the floor in a damp, moss covered cave. Blinking slowly, he rubbed his eyes and took another look around to affirm where he was.

"WHAT IN THE FLYING MONKEY FUCK!?!?" he shouted.