Neil Parkman

[Jack]

Status: Tailie

Name: Neil Parkman

Age: 28

Occupation back home: I was a boxing promoter. And I was a happy boxing promoter until a week ago.

Appearance:

Nationality: British

Residence: I'd say crap whole f*cking island, but I'm getting the feeling you get that a lot around here. So I'll just say n/a

Skills: I'm extremely useful in tight situations, what with my quick thinking and strength.

Weaknesses/bad habits: I tend to fit in with bad people, and that alone, gets me into trouble. Also a lot of people can't tell when I'm joking.

Frequent moods/expressions: I'm an easy going, regular guy. I can be a bit of an ass, but who isn't. I'm funny, in a sarcastic way. I'm calm and I always keep my cool.

Reason for flight: Cause I didn't want to have my ass handed to me in Australia.

Item from wreckage: A baseball bat...for protection.

[Jack]

Name: Tommy

Age: 27

What you do: Runs the shops while I run the boxing business. He's my partner not in a sexual way. He's pretty much my brother.

Appearance:

Overview: A nice guys, probably not what people would call streets smart, but he does his best. He's kinda of like my shadow, but that's not to say he 'asn't saved my ass before, but that doesn't keep me from giving him a hard time, it keeps him in line. He's a stumbling fool most of the time, he's like a newly graduated intern, who knows nothing about the outside world.


Name: Mad Fist Willy

Age: 31

What you do: Boxer

Appearance:

Overview: My boxer, and a friend of mine. Perhaps a little dim witted, and will always try to pick a fight over very small issues to prove his strength. An idiot if you were to ask me, but of course I can't tell 'im that because I need 'im to fight.


Name: Sullivan 'Kingpin' Polford

Age: 64

What you do: Atop the food chain in organized crime.

Appearance:

Overview: A f*cking bastard, and a real pain in my ass, but he's also the f*ckhead who pays me so there's not much I can do. I have to pretend I respect him, when really, I'd love to see the sneaky f*ck degrading in the dirt. He's an extremely powerful man, and does not 'esitate to kill anyone who irritates him, in fact its the highlight of the c*nt's day. Of course he won't be the one to kill ya, he'll get his sodding associates to do it for 'im, and take my word for it, you don't want to run into those brutes in an alley. And believe me I know how sad it is that he calls himself Kingpin, as if makes him more f*cking masculine, but all I see in the name is a codename for a homosexual porn star.

[Jack]

***Flashback 2 years before the crash***

The sweat running down his face, the flex muscles wanting to rip out of the skin, not that it was visible what with his sweatshirt on. It was easy to hear him panting as he began to run out of breath, but he couldn’t hear it as he was throwing punch after punch after punch. But it was never enough, he had to keep going, he had to keep fighting until it was he who was finished from exhaustion.

“Why do they call ‘im Mad Fist Willy?” Tommy asked, being his usual, ignorant self. This never seemed to bother Neil, actually he quite enjoyed Tommy’s uneducated questions. Neil always had fun giving a sarcastic response, but it wasn’t as though he would display his amusement. He would have to seem irritated, it was all part of the act, without it, it wasn’t quit as fun.

“I thought tha’ was pretty obvious,” Neil replied, “Its because when he fucking pleasures his lonely self, he does it quite amazingly,” and there was Neil’s trademark sarcasm. “Hence the name Willy…Why the fuck do you think they call him Mad Fist Willy?”

Willy continued to throw punches over and over again, not really taking notice to their conversation. “That’s not wha’ I mean,” Tommy explained in a aggravated tone. But what it sounded like was a kid drying to defend himself while he’s getting bullied. “What I meant was why do they call ‘im that, if he punches just like any other boxer.”

“Oh I suppose your right Tommy, maybe they should call him predictable Willy…But it doesn’ have the same kinda ring does it?” Neil replied, making his point. Willy stop to take a breath, and put his head at his knees. Sweat dripped off him like morning dew on a leaf. He reached over with one hand, it looked as though it was taking every ounce of his strength. He grabbed the punching bag and held it steady.

Neil and Tommy were looking Willy over, as if to evaluate him, see if he was worth their trouble, it was kind of ironic seeing as how they didn’t have much of a choice. Willy was their fighter, and there was no means of changing that. Willy continued to pant heavily before quickly rising up and attacking the punching bag again, only this time he was head butting it and hitting it with his elbows.

“Is he allowed to do that?” Tommy asked. He never seized the stupidity or lack of knowledge, which ever one sounds less hurtful. Neil looked at Willy and then back at Tommy before replying. Sometimes Tommy’s ignorance even surprised Neil, and sometimes, was all the time.

“It’s an unlicensed boxing match,” Neil replied, this time actually displaying his shock of Tommy’s stupidity. Tommy wasn’t your average dimwitted chap, he was more like gangster living in the projects who grew up in Beverly Hills. No matter how hard he would try to fit in, it would be clearly obvious that something didn’t quite fit. “Not a tickling competition,” Neil had to throw a piece of sarcasm, he only got a perfect chance like this every so often…Actually, more often then you’d think. “These lads are out to hurt each other,” Neil continued.

They were in a run down, abandoned trailer park, it was quite similar to a warehouse. It was completely filthy, and the original colour would be impossible to tell even if you were offered a hundred pounds to figure it out. There were pieces of scrap all over the place, and some extremely old, worn out training equipment. Neil, with a look of disgust, was more concerned about his run down caravan. “Ugh,” he muttered, “Look at, its dreadful.”

“Well its not as though we are world famous boxing promoters is it?” Tommy asked rhetorically.

“Still, I can’t run my business in this,” Neil continued, not taking much notice to Tommy’s comment, and not as though Tommy’s comment was to be taken notice of. “I want you to buy me a new one Tommy.”

“Why me,” he asked, sounding like a child whose been asked to clean the whole fucking house.

“Because, you have experience with this sort of thing,” Neil replied. His B.S. didn’t slip past anyone, but it didn’t hurt to flatter Tommy a bit. “I’ve already got everything arranged, all you have to do is go over there and pick it up. Here’s an address” Neil explained, holding up a piece of paper.

“It’s a fucking campsite,” Tommy replied in surprise and revulsion. “Its owned by gypos. I fucking hate pikeys,” Tommy complained.

“You’re a sensitive one aren’t you Tommy,” Neil joked, but with no grin on his face. “I’ll give ya 10 grand, and it would be nice to see some change,” Neil continued, making himself rather clear to anyone.

“Anyway, what’s wrong with this one?” Tommy asked and before Neil could reply, the caravan shifted on an angle as the back axle broke in half, and the wheels imploded on themselves. Neil watched as one of the rims rolled away.

“Oh nothing Tommy, its tip top, just I’m not sure about the colour,” he replied. Tommy sighed as he came to the realization that there was no way of taking his way out of his new found conundrum. Neil reached into his picket as he heard his cell phone ringing.

“Neil.” He said as he answered it, he wasn’t really in the mood for taking to strangers of insurance salesmen. “Really?...Well fuck me…No not you Kingpin, just a little sudden…Of course, we’ll be by in a few hours…Alright…” Neil closed the phone and put it back into his pocket.

“Who was that?” Tommy asked.
Neil turned to him with a stubborn look, “You ask that like you weren’t listening in on the conversation. Anyway it was Kingpin, he wants Willy to fight for him,” Tommy’s face froze in fear, but that explanation was to come later.

“How did he get our number?” Tommy asked.

“How the fuck should I know?” Neil asked. He had the same fear as Tommy, but he kept pretty well buried, “I’m not Kingpin, ask him.”