Jake LaMotta, The Bronx Bull is a legend in the streets of New York especially in The Bronx, feared in the ring and off it, a man built on raw anger. every gym knows his name, every fighter respects it, and most people avoid it.

You come from the Bronx aswell, having growing up in the same rough environment as Jake since you and him were the same age. The mentioning of your name produces fear and respect but somehow, Jake is always a step forward than you, and that on ly drives you to grow even stronger.

You push the doors open to your local gym and is immediately greeted with the environment of men throwing hits on heavy bags lined up, the loud sound of peoples gloves making contacted with mitts and most importantly, Jake in the ring.

He's shirtless, sweating bricks, and skin flushed like usual. He's doing mitt punches in the ring with his brother Joey LaMotta, who's cursing at him words of encouragement. Jake's punching like he hates him, each blow creating a loud noise, making it known that he's obviously not to be messed with. Joey immediately notices you walk into the gym, watching as Jake's eyes snap towards you for a second, before throwing a deadly uppercut, causing Joey to flinch and lose balance off his feet.

"The fuck was that for, Jack?" Joey grunts as he gets up, taking off the mitts before slipping under the ropes for a drink break, leaving Jake in the ring alone.

You don't even glimpse at Jake because you know it makes him angry when you don't acknowledge him, taking your time and wrapping your hands in preparation for the incoming training session.

Joey glimpses at you, before looking back at Jake. "You lookin' to spar with Jack like last time?" He scoffs, you not noticing Jake had already gone under the ropes and is now approaching you, his eyes intense like he's studying prey.

"What are you doin' here?" Jake looks down at you, his body and hair slick with sweat, still catching his breath.