Match of the Millennium

"Hawksley, is that you, darling?" Mary Moore's broad accent sounds out of the Irish man's phone speaker. "Course it is. Who else is it gonna be, mammy?" he laughs. "Turn your camera on, then we can both see each other." At the sight of his mother's smiling face, the fiery fighter feels himself relax. In the background, he can see the kitchen of the house he grew up in, with its familiar emerald green wall tiles and wooden cabinets. He can almost smell her Irish stew and soda bread cooking. "Are you looking after yourself? Are you eating enough?" she worries. "How about sleeping? They're not pushing you too hard are they?" At one time her over protective ways had driven him mad. As the baby of her six children, she'd watched him more carefully and he knew he was her favourite, even if she'd never admit this to his siblings. "I'm just grand, mammy. I've been eating loads, drinking loads, exercising loads and sleeping loads. It's pretty much business as usual." Pacified by this, Mary nods her head and pushes a dark strand of hair behind her ear. "Well that's alright then, because I don't want my boy changing too much. That woman has been around, by the way. The one with the purple hair." For a minute Hawksley is confused. How can Coco have been in County Cork, when she's here with him in Sunshine City. Then it sinks in who his mammy must mean. "Tiffany?" he questions. "What the devil did she want?" "Sniffing around, asking when you'd be home" Mary says with more than a little scorn. "Apparently she'd seen your matches on something called FightTube. I'm guessing she's after having you back now you're famous." "I'm hardly that, mammy" Hawksley laughs. "Either way though, I'll not be getting back with Tiff. I've moved on in my life. I really wanna make a go of this New Fighting Generation thing and I don't need reminders of the past messing with that." "Does that count for me too?" Mary probes, her green eyes staring hard into the camera. "Of course it doesn't, mammy! You're a part of my past, present and future." Mary smiles, satisfied with her son's answer. "Well alright then. I'll let you be getting on with your morning. Make sure you don't ruin that lovely face of yours. The amount of broken noses and black eyes...." "I'm grand, mammy. I'll speak to you sometime soon." With that he hangs up the call and goes to grab a shower. He's got a hard days training ahead, before his fight with Ayala.

It's remarkable really. There's not a mark on Hawksley's face or a hair on his head harmed. It's almost like he never headbutted a bomb into the audience of a packed arena during a fight between sixteen people. Almost. The memories are still there. Not that he dwells on them. He's the kind to brush things off, live in the moment and find fun in a beer or a brawl. Dwelling on things isn't in his nature. Nor is performing promos, but apparently that's what he's doing today. He'd finally landed himself an agent after a conversation with Chevy where she'd revealed she had one. He'd been thinking about the possibility ever since, and after a few phone calls, he'd found himself with a few offers on the table to choose from. He'd decided to go with a fella by the name of Frank. He'd seemed honest and a bit of a laugh and his suit was neither too cheap or too flashy. It's all about balance. As he hits the record button, he looks down the lens and starts to laugh. He doesn't know what the feck he's doing but if Ichika can have her own podcast, then surely he can figure something out. Ichikacast, that's a good place to start! "Alright, you lovely lads and lasses. It's grand of you to join me today." He stops to take a swig from a beer bottle, the label clearly visible as 'Lucky's Fiery Ale'. "So a lot of people have been wondering what I make of this new podcast that Ichika has been hosting. Truth be told, I'm a fan and the heated discussions she's caused, though not without any smoke, aren't exactly the full story." Another swig. "I never said I wanted to leave Team Blaze. I just wanted things to change, which is exactly what's happened. We've got new sponsors and team members and I for one am very fecking excited. I'd be happy to stop by and visit my friends at Team Thunder any time though and train with them if they want. Ichika, Chevy and Buck are all fighters I respect and I'm sure I'd be fed well. It'd be cool to meet the two new recruits too. I don't know much about Junko but I've listened to a Hated R song or two in my time. That offer goes for any of the fighters in the New Fighting Generation, by the way. Even you, Coco Pops." He winks at the camera and then drains the rest of his bottle in one go. "So what else? Oh yeah. People have been asking me if I'm with Coco or Chevy. The answer is neither. They're both gorgeous girls but I'm as single as they come and if that changes, then I'm sure you'll all probably be the first to know. Well, other than me and whoever the woman is." He sits back in his chair, revealing the black t-shirt with the 'Team Blaze' logo he's wearing. "By now you'll have heard that the circus is moving on to Metro City. I'll be heading there myself soon, so this is my last night in Sunshine City. It's been a strange old summer with ups and downs, most of them ups to be fair. My fights with Ayala, Kenzo and Buck were a blast and The Rumble was a riot while it lasted, which wasn't too long in my case." He grins. "With the move to Metro in mind, I have a request to ask of any viewers I have in the city. Where's the best pint? Where can a fella go to find the craic? Hit me up on my socials and let me know." He blows a kiss to the camera. "Well, that's me done for now. I'm off for a last wander around Sunshine City with my man, Brian Storm. Maybe I'll see you sometime soon. Perhaps in one of those bars you're gonna tell me about."

The camera wobbles a bit as Hawksley works on making sure it's straight. With this sorted, he focuses his dark gaze down the lens and smiles. He's dressed in a pine green sweatshirt with 'Metro City' printed on it in white lettering. The lower half of his body isn't visible. His face displays signs of bruising. "Hello you lovely lot, have you missed me? I've been a bit shite at taking the time to do these since I got to Metro haven't I? As you may have seen I've been busy but it's not like I haven't found time to spend in the boozer, so I could have got my arse in to gear. By now you'll know I'm out of the final tournament of the New Fighting Generation. Congrats to Djamila, who is the one who gave me these gorgeous bruises I'm wearing. I'm a bit sad but I'm also happy because this experience has been the best fecking ride of my life. I know that might sound weird to say since Coco is currently in hospital in a bad way. I know some of you will call me out on it but feck it. I've already had plenty of backlash and I'm a big boy, so I can handle it. For those who have shown me support, I appreciate every second of it. The cards, the photos, the messages, the gifts. Not one of them have been taken for granted. Thanks for your messages of support for Coco too. I've passed them on and she's doing alright, so she is. She's a fighter and she'll handle these injuries, just like she handles her opponents. Those of you who've had the chance to take a blow from her will know what I mean." He stops to take a swig from a bottle of 'Lucky's Fiery Ale' and then continues. "I suppose you're gonna wanna know who I think will win this thing now I can't. I'd say any single one of them could do it. As for who I want to win? That'd be telling. A fella has got to have some secrets for himself, so he has." He winks at the camera and takes another swig. "Anyway, that's pretty much all I've got for you. Will I be continuing to do these? I'm fecked if I know. Let's just see where my life takes me next. I can promise you one thing though, you haven't seen the last of me." He blows a kiss to the camera and then the picture cuts out.