glug glug glug

Standing in the kitchen of his modest Memphis apartment, Violence watched the rest of the whiskey drain out of the bottle and down the drain.

Time to get your shit together he thought to himself.

Since losing his Pure Gold Championship, Violence had found comfort in drinking a daily bottle of Jack Daniels while rarely leaving his home. The Pure Gold Championship had been his only source of self-worth for the past while, and to have it stolen by some Japanese kid had sent him down a spiral.

When the bottle ran empty, Violence tossed it over to a nearly overflowing trash can, and it clanked against one or two other empty Jack Daniels bottles.

He scratched his groin and stammered out of the kitchen and down the hall to the bathroom. After reaching the bathroom, he promptly got on his knees and proceed to puke into the toilet.

Once purged, Violence wiped away the excess vomit from his lips and wiped it on his boxers. He shook his head and stood up to look in the mirror.

The man in front of him looked drained, and slightly below his usual weight.

He gritted his teeth and ran a hand through his mohawk.

“Get. Your. Shit. Together.”

Violence slapped both sides of his face with his hands and continued to stare hard at his reflection.

Season 3 was here, and he was ready to get back to business.