Chapter 1: Prologue 1 - Seriously!?

"Are you fuckin' Serious!?" Exclaimed a man who seemed to be in his mid-30s.

"And where the hell am I?"

As he spoke these words of confusion, he took the time to observe his surroundings.

He was sitting in a soft leather chair which was lined up with leather chairs of a similar make. By sight, there were about 10 or 12 chairs in the row. Directly in front of him there was a row of identical chairs facing him. While looking at the opposite row of chairs, he confirmed that the row, indeed, had 12 chairs. Behind that row of chairs, there was yet another row of identical chairs. This row, however, was placed against the wall with only 10 seats centered on the row in front. In each corner was a potted plant, though the man was not knowledgeable enough to name the plants. Then he took the chance to look over his shoulder and noticed that his side of the room was set up in exactly the same way as what he saw in front.

Several of the seats were occupied. Some of the occupants seemed to be confused like him. Some were muttering to themselves in what seemed to be denial. While some seemed to be raging about their circumstances.

Taking a quick count, there were a total of 19 people in the seats. 20 if he included himself.

Looking to the right, He saw a plain white wall with a plaque hanging in the middle of the wall. On the plaque was a picture of a man wearing a black suit and wide brimmed hat with a white band. The pictured man had 2 thumbs raised, a large smile that could be seen under the brim of his hat, and a caption at the bottom of the picture that read: "Life isn't fair… SO GET OVER IT!!!"

'Damn… it's like that, huh?' He thought with an involuntary chuckle.

After that, he took a look to his left. There was, unsurprisingly, another plain white wall. In the center of this wall, however, there was a sturdy looking black door with a gold doorknob.

At that moment, he heard the voice of a woman calling from beyond the door. "Anderson Velez, please make your way through the door. I repeat, Anderson Velez, please make your way through the door."

As the voice fell, a man who appeared to be in his late-40s stood and made his way to the door at the end of the room.

'Is this some kind of waiting room?' The man in his mid-30s thought. 'If so, what the hell are we waiting for?'

With his internal monologue going unanswered, he lost interest in "Anderson Velez" who started turning the doorknob, the man in his mid-30s saw a flash of light in his peripheral vision.

When he turned his head, he saw that 3 of the empty seats were now filled with confused people.

'Huh, the fuck just happened.'

The man stared at the new arrivals with such confusion that he actually forgot to breathe. He was so unsure of what was going on that his eyes dilated and his vision started going dark.

'Alright… Alright… Calm down… Deep breath.'

Before losing consciousness, he forcibly calmed himself down.

'Okay, stop and think, James Warren! You've had to think in much more difficult situations than this before.'

James Warren, the name of this confused man.

After taking several deep breaths, which caused a flow of oxygen to make it to his brain again, he started thinking back to what he could remember in the moments before he found himself in this "waiting room".

===Flashback===

Washington D.C., United States

A tall and well-built African-American man, James Warren to be exact, was jogging through is neighborhood in the northwest of the city.

'This will be the last day of training before I rest. I almost lost to Serrano last time. There's no way I'm going into another fight without proper rest ever again.'

James has been fighting, boxing to be more precise, for the past 23 years. At the age of 11, he saw his first boxing match on television with his father. Immediately after the result was announce James told his father, "Pop, I want to do that, too!" Young James jumped around excitedly, his blood boiling from his first experience with combat sports.

At the age of 12, James' father took him to the nearest boxing gym so James could learn the basics of boxing. Honestly, neither James' mother or father thought that James would stick with his latest... impulse. It wouldn't be the first time this type of impulse had struck. Basketball, football, baseball, soccer, piano lessons, were things that James had exclaimed "I want to do that, too" to.

It wasn't exactly surprising either. James was diagnosed with a severe case of ADHD. His parents were happy if something kept his interest for more than an hour.

Boxing, however, James seemed like he was made for it.

He soaked up knowledge of the sport like a sponge. For a 12-year-old he had excellent control of his body, which grew over time as he grew stronger and taller. His bodily control made his strikes so precise that he gained the professional nickname of "The Machine".

He participated in his first amateur fight at age 15. He went undefeated for three years as an amateur. Then jumped to the ranks of professional fighters at the age of 18. For the next 10 years, James fought 19 matches, winning 18 by Knockout. The final fight wasn't won by decision as one would expect, however. That 19th fight ended early, because his opponent had more will power than physical endurance. The referee called the fight because the cut under the fighter's eye was just too painful to look at anymore.

James' 20th fight was his first title shot. And, he didn't win. He drew with the champion at the time.

Every fight after that added another tick to James' win column. Over the next 7 years, James ended up winning the unified light heavyweight championship.

"I think this will be my last fight." Said James while trying to keep his breath steady during his run. "I can't believe I've been doing this since I was 12. My body's going to have trouble keeping up with my mind soon."

At that moment, He saw a semi speeding down the street. Usually, James would have just moved away from the road and kept a wary eye on the truck. This time, however, he noticed a young woman crossing the street at the cross-walk about a quarter of a block away. Noticing that she was wearing headphones and listening to music, he knew it would be useless to try and shout for her to pay attention.

"Fuck it! I'm goin' in." James shouted and raised his speed to its limit.

When He reached the cross-walk, he was relieved as he would have time to grab the young woman as he dashed past her. The only issue was he might initially be misunderstood.

Thinking it was more important to save a life, James dashed across the street and reached out his left arm to grab and lift the young woman.

'Huh?'

'Why am I looking up at the sky?'

'Why does it feel like I'm floating?'

*Thud*

As James reached the young woman, she reacted by using an over the shoulder throw. The momentum of the throw leading her out of the path of the truck. Fortunate for her and unfortunate for James, He was now directly in line with the passenger side tires of the truck.

As James lay there, he thought of one of his sparring partner's favorite phrase.

'The road to hell really is paved with good intentions, huh?'

Right before the truck ended his life, though, he heard the voice of a woman.

"You should have taken the money and the loss."

'So, it was those muh fuckers, huh? Well, I was thinkin' 'bout retirin' anyway.' Then everything went blank.

===Current Time===

"Seriously!? Are you fuckin' kidding me!!!?"

"That got-damned Truck-Kun fuckin' got me!!!"