Liberate Your Sons And Daughters (Liberation RP Thread)

(Match RP for Duskfall 29/07/18)

I. Unspoken
October 11th, 2007

Bruce Rigg jumps out of the taxi in the centre of Glasgow city. His favourite gym is close by. Living in a one bedroom flat, working part-time as a bouncer, with the only dream he is interested in being that of Pro Wrestling career, the gym is the only place he feels in control of his destiny. A part of him is conscious that he's just a 19-year-old hoss earning pennies for a career that could lead nowhere. Another part of him is hungry at the challenge of making sure that doesn't happen.

As he turns the corner onto Grisham Street, leading to the Burning Palace, a small but advanced gym, with a lot of facilities and not too many visitors, giving Rigg the perfect environment for a gruelling work out session.

As he approaches, there's a kid sitting on the wall outside. No older than fourteen or fifteen surely. He is scrawny with a cap on, covering half his face, smoking a cigarette.

"Kids." Bruce mutters to himself.

The kid notices Bruce as he gets close enough to pass the wall. Immediately, he shouts over.

"Hey, Bruce! Great match last night!" The kid calls.

He has a slight accent, barely noticeable, but Bruce isn't able to immediately place it. All Bruce knew was, this kid wasn't from Scotland. Bruce remembers the match. He curtain jerked the show and while it's true he won, it was a three minute match in front of about seventeen people. Hardly great... but one of those 17 was this kid. Bruce likes this kid. He seems like a good lad.

"Heh. Thanks, lad. Like wrestling, huh?" Bruce asks.
"Gonna be a wrestler myself when I'm older." The kid replies.
"Is that so?" Bruce raises his brow, "Well, you won't get very far with that deathstick in your hand."

Bruce enters the gym, somewhat amused by the kid's expression of embarrasment and somewhat hopeful (perhaps foolishly) that he will accept his advice.

The gym session is long and hard. Bruce takes himself, as usual, to the limit, before calling it a day. He hits the shower and leaves the gym two hours later. It's dark now. Cold and raining. Tonight's October chill has arrived.

Bruce takes a short walk through the rain to the nearest taxi office and jumps in a cab after waiting for five minutes. He has a shift tomorrow night, at the local club, and sighs inwardly at what will no doubt be a long slog of a night. He makes a mental note to make sure he sleeps well tonight.

"Wait - driver, stop the cab." Bruce says suddenly. The driver pulls over. He almost missed him. Opening the window, Bruce sticks his head out. Sure enough, the same kid from earlier is sitting in a bus stop. He's sopping wet, trying to get as much cover as possible from the windy rain.

"Oi! Lad!" Bruce shouts out.

The kid looks over and recognises him. Bruce notices a black eye.

"What'ya doing out here, lad?"

The kid shrugs.

"Don't worry about me, Bruce." The kid replies defiantly.

"Don't be stupid, get in the car." Bruce says.

Bruce expects the kid to refuse, and it takes the kid a few moments to decide, but eventually he runs over and jumps in the back.

***

"So, how'd you get that black eye?" Bruce asks the kid as they crossed the threshold of his flat.

"Doesn't matter." The kid mumbles.

"Course it does. Wouldn't'a asked otherwise." Bruce grunts, "What is it? Some idiot from school give you a punch?"

The kid shakes his head.

"What, then? Your dad or something?" Bruce continues.

The kid doesn't say anything, but he quickly meets Bruce's eye, then looks away. Bruce nods in understanding.

"Right... say no more. Tell you what, you can crash on my sofa tonight. If you're running away from home, least I can do is make sure you don't drown out there. There's some painkillers in the kitchen drawer and some food. Come on."

The kid, lacking a lot of his confidence from earlier, agrees to come along and shuffles towards the kitchen sheepishly.

"What's your name anyway, kid?"

"Garret." The kid says, "Garret Fischer."