Thread: Ghost of Demon Past (Soul &+&+ Alvis)

Life just wasn't the same. It was an adjustment, that much was clear. But the record he had made it that legitimate groups wouldn't take him, and everyone knew that boxing was dead. That was what Carl kept getting told by everyone around him. Carl was by no means a small man. He was a lean person, not much in the way of excess weight anywhere on him, but he towered over most people. well over six feet tall, he carried himself well, the kind of confidence that could only be earned by testing yourself, and finding out what your limits were. And Carl had been sorely tested in the past. His hair was kept short, maybe a few inches longer than he used to keep it, giving him a somewhat shaggy appearance. His arms hung loose at his sides, longer even than someone of his height would suggest. His hands were always half clenched when at rest, as though the fingers had long ago forgotten how to fully relax, and were most easily at home when making a fist. His hands spoke of a lifetime of use and abuse, hard knotted muscle showing in those hands, repeated scars layered along the knuckles, showing that he'd put them to use as blunt instruments more than a few times. His eyes, a dark grey, like the sky before a thunderstorm, seemed to take in most of everything going on around him. He sighed, and made his way up the steps to get to work. Gold Wing had been a good find for him. Work had been scarce lately, and he couldn't get back to his old profession, not without a few angry and disgruntled cops showing up to read him the riot act, and who the hell needed that kind of aggravation? In another life he'd tended bar and bounced. Going back to that had seemed like the best option. Besides, all of his savings was tied up in investments he couldn't touch for another few years. And that left him scraping by. Still, the work was good, even if it was taunting him to watch people step into the ring, fight it out, knowing in his heart he could probably destroy most of them in a fair fight. Or even an unfair fight. When the request came to him to move upstairs, away from the tease of the ring, he took it easily, before anyone else could beat him to the punch. He made his way up the stairs, smiling thinly all the way. This would be better. The crash of a breaking bottle caught his attention instantly, moments away from making his way behind the bar. His size did have the benefit of people being willing to get the hell out of his way when he wanted them to. The girl tending the bar...Jaime he thought...had dropped a brand new bottle, and that in itself was not a usual thing. He didn't think her the type to really get showy with her pouring. She'd seemed practical. So something was off. And he moved closer to her, a hand touching her shoulder gently. He'd seen her around, they'd had a brief introduction when he'd started, which wasn't that long ago really if he was being perfectly fair. But they'd never spoken since, so it was up in the air if she recognized him at all. Uh...Jaime? You all right there? He asked her. His eyes tracked across the patrons, some of which looked amused, some of them looked concerned, which he assumed were the real veterans of the place, and one...one looked...off putting to say the least. Carl had run with some tough crowds in the past, and had met a few people he felt were legitimately off their rock, and this guy screamed that there was likely something off in his head. He put his attention on Jaime for now though. She didn't really remember him. Not completely. But there was certainly something there. Some trace of her called her back to that night, that moment of perfect surprise, perfect terror, and perfect violation that she would never fully shake. It wasn't possible. And he had known it then, just as much as he knew it now. His luck was strong this night, seeing her like this. He'd never dreamed of seeing her again, so many years in between, so many years and a lifetime it felt sometimes. And now, his voice had done it's work, had sent her mind racing down paths she'd rather bury, and showing him that no matter what...she still remembered him. That she might wish with all her being that she could forget him, but that was a feat beyond her. He might have been tempted to offer her another taunt, another comment, but it seemed like she was in a place that people knew her. Respected her. Liked her even. And that had him in a dangerous position. Best to get a few drinks, maybe from this new comer that had arrived. Pay his tab, and go for now. But he sure as hell knew that he'd be back. Her very existence demanded that he be back.