[!]Coliseum[!]Hell yeah…[]~XIII~[] [!] ~”Bone is inch by inch...”~[!]
After their first round fight; both Eric, and Tres, had been carried out of the Arena...Relocated to the infirmary for a quick patch-up that would, hopefully, keep them alive until the results were posted.
Turned out, Bishop only offered full-body reconstruction to
winners. Cheap-a** gangster!
Regardless, as the Tiger lay there; contemplating his future, and waiting for the pain medication to -really- kick in...He happened to note the gruff sound of someone coughing near-by.
"Ur-Hh-ghuh...Son, you look like Hell."Eric's vision was going a bit blurry, probably an effect of blood-loss or being doped, but he could make out some basic features of the speaker; Long black hair, a sparse beard...thin, and wearing a pair of greasy blue-denim coveralls.
A mechanic?
"Listen...Pops...I may be confined to this bed, but I'll still come over there and beat your scrawny a** to death!"The older man would chuckle, and adjust a large...sack? bag?...that hung over his left shoulder. Maybe the Thai brawler was just tripping out, or something? Lucid dreams were not uncommon when put on large doses of pain-killer, or when the mind went into shock. All the same, his potentially imaginary friend spoke again.
"Kid, you've got heart...When I look at you, I see an old friend...a man they called 'The Intimidator'. He was a real champ, man...a real HERO, if you get my meaning...So, I'm gonna help you out. I'm...I'm gonna help you race again!"Wh-what? What in the actual ******** was this guy talking about?
Eric felt his consciousness fading, felt his will being dissolved beneath the roar of engines...rocked by the weight of untold droves of fans shouting out in cacophony. Was this it? Was he dying?
Was this Hell?
The man approached, and the Tiger slipped away; caught in the gentle, terrible, embrace of sleep.
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When he awoke once again, it was to the unfamiliar growl of pistons; His blood thumping with unbridled horse-power!
VRRRRROOOOOM-MM-MM-MM-MM-MM...Eric, his weakened body strapped into an unholy chariot of chrome steel...and black leather...had become some sort of half-man, half-racing machine. His one good arm was still free, and now held the
Tiger's Tail out like a lance.
So, this was to be his destiny?
A monster worthy of Dr. Frankenstein!?
Hell yeah!!
With Tres' bloody scalp hanging proud at his back, like some gory raccoon-tail flag, and the number
3 emblazoned in white on every available surface...The young fighter was something more than he had ever been.
The InTigerdator...
And race-day was here, sport's fans!
[!] ~”…Stronger than steel.”~[!]
Gear & Status
{
I }
Gear {
I }
Tiger's Tail - Active; 8ft Bo
{
I }
Active Effects {
I }
Fury - 0 [Passive +1, Tiger's Tail -1 :: Net = 0]
{
I }
Injuries {
I }
Left-side Back - Wound received in earlier fight cleaned and stitched up, localized anesthetic applied. No adverse conditions noted; Pain Level: 1
Upper-back - Heavy bruising. Striking capabilities unaffected, but pain level will rise with each subsequent usage of arms; Pain Level: 1
Upper right thigh/Glute - Stitched, sutured, and packed with gauze; Ability to hold weight on that leg compromised. Pain Level: 3
Midsection - Stomach, large intestines, and lower intestines stitched. Pain Level: 6
Left Shoulder - Penetrated through by a shard of crystal; packed with gauze and wrapped. Inability to strike with left arm, as it is in a sling. Pain Level: 3
