There wasn't a lot of story to tell for the longest of time, for after failing to win at the basketball competition Sisyphus had became somewhat of a recluse. Only eighty days is what his lifetime in the mafia had felt like but in reality it was much longer than that and his body wasn't what it had used to be, he surely would have won the entire thing  only a decade or two ago-- back in his prime he was considered quite the baller, but now his brittle bones were more of a joke than anything formidable. Unable to do even the simplest of alley-oops, he would never show his face back on any type of court again.

"Can't win any of the mafia's fabled poetry or story competitions. Can't even properly dribble anymore, what's next for me to fail at? Bowling? Bah!", his pity party was a loud one and could be heard by many as it was being held in the middle of a store.

"Sir, can you take this somewhere else? There's customers here?"

Being kicked out of a shopping mall was the last straw. There had to be something that he could do, somewhere out there. Walking past the street where House frequented there was a lingering feeling to throw the dice one more time, but sadly he couldn't. Striking a deal with city hall, the mean Mr. House could not come within fifty yards of Sisyphus for the next twenty days.

"Hey there, can I interest... oh it's you... pussy."

The words hurt Sisyphus, but there was a distinct truth to them. Was running away from your weaknesses really the best way to deal with them? These questions were better suited for the scholars and not a brute working for the mafia; so instead of dwelling on this any longer, he made his way to where a large amount of people had gathered.

"Is that all ya got?"

It was a jam packed crowd and they seemed to be circling two men who were matching wits not with their minds but rather fists. Something about it immediately put him into a trance, and for the next two hours he was betting and drinking with the people who had made this small patch of land their own.

"You look like the capable enough sort, why not give it a go?"
"Who, me?", Sisyphus pointed to himself coyly and sighed. There was no way that anything could get him to try something new, not after all of the many failures that he had endured lately. But how would he get out of this one? His brain was moving at a mile per minute racking it over with every excuse in the book.

"Can't."

"And why not?"

"Just can't."

Nailed it, he thought to himself.

"Ah I got it, pussy."

There was that word again. Did no one know any different insults? The unoriginality of it was beside the point, however, and Sisyphus found himself completely won over. Maybe he was sick of failure, or maybe his opponent looked weak enough that he knew there wouldn't be any more failure, whatever the case may be, the hook had been successful and he was baited.

"Fuck it. I'm in."

"Alright, but not tonight. Tomorrow. It's too late now and surely enough calls have been made to the police by now that they'll be around soon. We've gotta disperse. Meet us here."

Handed a slip of paper, Sisyphus read the location and nodded. He knew the place well enough and would be more than happy to make his way back here tomorrow.

[OOC: If you want to fight me, RP here now. Just make sure that I win. I swear if you make yourself win I'll be really mad. Or just make a post to get it started. Whatever you want. It's all good. Just let me win. Please. I need this.]

[OOC2: Don't even post if you don't want to let me win. Thank you.]

Sometimes you just knew when you had something special. It was a feeling, or maybe even a speck in the back of your mind that kept you awake at night with the thought of the possibilities. That's why as quickly as he could, he made his way back to where the men fought and found that no challenger dared stand to face him. Predictable? Yes.

"So no one's here, eh? Guess they heard who was fighting.", he pulled off a few flourishes into the wind to really drive home the point that he was in prime fighting shape. Then continued staring at the man who he had met only the day before that was apparently setting up these things.

"Yep. No one's here. You've won."

Some would take lesser pride in winning by default, but not Sisyphus. Placing the belt around his waist that he had brought from home, it was held in proud display to everyone who saw him that he was the winner of the fist fighting brawl of the centery. The misspelling added a flair to it all that really drove home the fact that he was a winner, and winners didn't need to worry about nerdy shit like spelling when they're at the top of their game.

So what is next for me? The proud fist fighting champion? Well, who's to say, really. Now that I'm first place in something it surely comes to no surprise that I will be holding many more competitions like this in the streets themselves. Maybe next time we will dare see who can hold their breath underwater the longest? Who can jump the furthest? It's all so exciting to think about. All I know is one thing... I have many more belts to make.

Sisyphus smiled and waved to the crowd that wasn't there.

What an honor this has been. Things are really looking up for me.