His head was killing him. It's like he'd just woken up with a hell of a hangover. At first, he wondered just where the fuck he was. He had been sitting on the couch. He shifts and the hell. Handcuffs? The shit? Either he had a really hot kinky night with someone or he had been arrested. One of the two.

Only it's not a cop car and he's not butt ass naked, so that means neither of these are true. He's not high either. He doesn't remember taking anything. That means one thing. Cue the very angry swearing. He's quite verbose in his usage of vulgarity, swearing right at the woman in the hood. Trial by Fire his ass. Been there, done that. He's been burned alive in a freak stage accident years ago.

He fights the handcuffs until his wrists bleed and when the finally come off, he is out of that stupid bumper car in record time. "This is bullshit. I'm out. Anyone wants to get the fuck outta here, you can tag the fuck along, but don't get in my damn way."

Then he's starting off. He doesn't yet know about the assholes in the mascot suits, but once he meets them, he won't be going down without a fight. Pride's very own Bad Boy has been in enough bar fights and back alley brawls to last a lifetime.