Part 1: Fallen from Fame
As I passed through the lobby of the hospital, I took a minute and had a seat in one of the chairs near the door. I took a deep breath and put my head in my hands. I had been battling so hard; that the body heat from my head had caused sweat drops to form on my helmet. As the small trickles of waters ran down the silver and black titanium helmet, I listened outside the hospital to the war still going on. I have been here for hours, and the villains just keep coming. They seemed to be getting stronger, and there are a lot more of them as the days pass. Villains from all over have been invading certain sections of Paragon City. I had seen villains who had the power to control mercenaries and robots. Villains who would disappear right in front of you, then unleash a powerful attack with out me seeing it coming. I had even seen a few villains who had the power to control the vines from under the street to do their bidding. The harder I fought them, the stronger and more in force they would come.
I didnt want to be a hero. Hell, if it was up to me, I would go home right now, and never leave the house. Never put on the tights again. Never save another person in this god-forsaken city. But that is not my decision.
This is the story of Triox.
About 3 years ago, I was a lightweight boxer in the Paragon City Boxing Circuit. But not just any lightweight boxer, I was THE lightweight boxer. I was climbing the ranks so fast, I was heralded the champion before I even got my first title match. You couldnt open the Paragon Times sports section with out seeing my name in there. They started calling me the next Ali. Man, did I love it. I had more money then I could spend. From the prize money and endorsements I was getting, I was able to buy anything I wanted. I had more import cars that the local dealership. I had a house so big I had to contract 3 different groups just to mow the lawn. If I wanted anything, Id simply call up my agent, and it would be in my hands in a few hours. Life was good.
But good wasnt enough. I started doing drugs. I had my own personal cocaine factory on the back side of Independence Port. Every week, I would get my new shipment in, and I would throw a party. I would invite all the big named people over, and we would party for a few days. I would black out, and wake up in Italy
..3 days later. I didnt care. I was living the good life.
But all good things must come to an end. The police raided my cocaine factory. I had a guy take the fall for me, but he wanted to get paid a lot of money for it. I could have sold a few of my cars, or one of my houses to pay him, and still live rich for the rest of my life, but that wasnt good enough. I had gotten used to this life, and I wasnt going to change it for anything. After paying off the fall guy, I started begging my agent to get me some more matches to help cover my loss. He gave me a few matches, but the drugs had slowed my reaction time. I wasnt as quick as I used to be, not was I as sharp. I lost more matches than I won. My agent left, as did the endorsements. I had won some money, but not as much as I had to pay the guy who took the fall for me. Even though my bank account was in the seven digits, I needed more money.
I started asking some of the big named people who used to come to my parties if any of them knew of some work an ex-boxer could do to stay ahead. One man told me about an underground boxing league that paid good money for their fights. He called someone, and that person called someone. Finally, I got a call from the guy who was running the league. He told me to meet him in the underground parking lot in Brickstown this Saturday. When I got to the spot, there was no one there. No crowd of people to watch the fight. No other boxers ready to bash the snot out of each other. No Brad Pitt or Edward Norton explaining the rules of this fight club. I waited for about fifteen minutes, and no one had showed up still. I started getting a bad feeling about this, and was just about to leave, when a black car drove up. The window rolled down, and the man in the back seat told me to get in.
We drove to a secluded part of Paragon City. A place called The Hive. I was escorted to a warehouse on the back side of the walled-out area. Once we got there, I was taken to the waiting area, and told to get ready for the fight. I started in on the punching bag in the room wondering what I had gotten myself into. What was this place? Who were these people? Why did we have to come to such a dangerous area just to do some back alley fist fights? After twenty minutes a group of people came into the room to check me out. After saying that I was ok to fight, I was given my own crew to be on my side of the ring. One of the security guards got a call on his walkie. After talking to the man on the other end for a few minutes, he told me everything was ready.
I was lead to the main area. Despite how the outside of the warehouse looked, the ring area was extremely nice. As I passed the tables of people, I noticed some familiar faces. Governors, Mayors, Senators, and high ranking officials all sat there staring at me. This was no small town boxing fight. This was big! I couldnt help but smile as I approached the ring.
I received $1,000,000 for that fight, and I didnt even win. This was more than I had received in any of my matches in the Paragon City Boxing Circuit. After a few days, I got a call from the guy running the league asking me if I was up for another fight. With a payload like the last one, I was always ready. I started boxing there regularly. The more I fought, the better I got, and the bigger the money I would receive. Sure, my name wasnt in the paper anymore, but who cares. After a few more fights, I started contacting a bookie and placing huge bets against my opponents for each fight. I started winning double the money for every fight I won. And winning is what I do best.
After a few fights, the payout was starting to get ridiculous. So I did when I always would do when I had a large amount of money. I blew it on stuff I didnt need. I bought boats, planes, and even a helicopter. I started doing drugs again. Even more this time. I bought some property in Columbia and would fly down there on my plane once a month. After picking up my load, I would fly back to my house, and enjoy myself. I had it all again. The money, the women, the drugs. I had my life back.
But just like last time, I couldnt keep up. I started getting slow again. My reflexes were dramatically reduced. I started loosing matches. And loosing matches means I am not winning money. Not winning money meant I was not happy.
I got word from my contact in Columbia that they were about to have a massive shipment of cocaine ready for me, but I would need to bring a lot of money. I told him no problem, but didnt realize what he meant. The man had lost all of his other clients due to someone selling to them cheaper. Fearing that this was a sign that he was about to get busted and everyone was leaving, he decided to sell everything he had and move out of the country. And this month had been a great year. The man was selling everything as a huge package. Surprisingly, I didnt have enough money to cover it all. He wouldnt let me pay some of it now. He had to have all the money up front. I told the guy to give me 3 days and I would have his money.
I had a fight the next night. I went to the bookie and made another bet. This was for everything I owned. Did I do it because of greed of selling the cocaine, or was it the drugs themselves that was making me do it. Regardless of what it was, the bookie took the bet. I thought it was easy money! The guy I was fighting was someone who I had beat on several occasions. All I had to do was drop this guy, get the money from my bookie, and pay the dealer in Columbia, and I will have a big score I can resell here. I could quit boxing and have more money then I could possibly spend in 10 lifetimes. This was going to be the best thing I could do!
I didnt last past the first round. Apparently, my bookie was also the same bookie for the person sponsoring the guy I was fighting. With me losing so much money for my bookie recently, he let the sponsorer know about my huge wager. They pumped that guy so full of steroids that I am surprised he didnt have a heart attack during our fight. I found out later the man went into a coma and eventually died.
Now, I was in a big predicament. The bookie gave me 1 week to cover the amount I had wagered. I scrambled trying to collect money. All my big named friends who partied with me before wanted to have nothing to do with me. Everyone I had known shunned me. Finally, a fellow boxer told me about a company who was paying good money for people in bad situations. They were experimenting a new drug, and wanted test subjects. I figured I had done more than my share of drugs in my life, so what was one more.
I signed up with Crey Industries. Immediately, they paid off my debt with the bookie. Once a week, I had to go to their facility and get a few shots. They were testing this new steroid that the government had contracted them to make for their soldiers. After about two months, I started noticing I was amazingly strong. I was able to punch through solid steel doors. This new steroid was amazing. I had never felt this kind of strength when I was working out as a lightweight. But every time I felt like I was getting to my full potential, I was given another drug to suppress the strength. After four months of doing this, I was starting to get very sick.
I went in to get a routine check-up with Crey Industries. I had been having this very soar throat problem for about a month. I would occasionally cough up blood for hours on end. When the doctor examined me, he said I had to have surgery immediately. I was prepped for the surgery as soon as possible. I was told everything would be ok.
When I woke up from the surgery, it felt like I had a baseball stuck in my throat. I tried talking, but nothing would come out. I tried coughing to clear my throat. When I did, I could feel something moving in my throat. An ear piercing screech came out and the light fixture above me exploded. I immediately grabbed my throat, and felt what seemed to be a mechanical device where my windpipe used to be. I blacked out again.
When I woke up, I opened my eyes, but I saw nothing. I blinked a few times to make sure, but still darkness.
What the hell did you do to my eyes???
