Jerry Joyce was born into a family of travellers in Co. Kerry, Ireland. Grew up just like any other lad in his area, drinkin at a young age, throwin stones', robbing copper boilers for fifty euro. His way of life was normal to him but would be seen as scum to many people around Ireland. His friends called him "JJ" for short, as he was moving into his teen years his father started showing him the ways of bare-knuckle boxin. Turns out wee JJ had some hands, he made a name for himself early after a four hour long scrap out the back of an ol' barn. which his father won seventy grand on.
Irish travellers don't just stay in Ireland their whole life, every big european country has their own set of traveller communities. His family would be driving around Europe for most of the given year only spending Christmas back home in their twenty bedroom mansion just outside of Dublin. Bare-knuckle fighting was a big deal through Russia and the surrounding countries.
JJ had been breakin noses and knockin teeth out for quite sometime now and was a grown man, that's when he got a call to tell him there was a big fight being arranged for the next time they were on their travels. Some lad they called Boris or "Big Bad Boris." "What a stupid fookin name," JJ thought to himself, he assured his father he'd slap seven shades of shite outta him bring home all the bet winnings. Boris was from Chernarus, quite off the beaten track but it's not like any of the travellers had jobs so they planned their travel route and set off.
Months of being on the road, drinking and fighting everynight making sure his hands didn't get cold they finally arrived at the border and were quickly turned away. The NATO and UN forces didn't understand the importance of this bare-knuckle fight, it was as big as the heavyweight boxing championship to these Irishmen.
A border would never stop an Irishman so they were in Chernarus shortly after getting turned away. "Alright, now we just have to find some place called Zelenegorsk." "Fuck da how are we gonna find a place called that I can't read english let alone whatever that fookin language is." "Don't worry lad I've direcions here."
The fight was set just outside of Zelenegorsk. The Irish were a few days early so after arriving at the location they found a nice spot and setup camp with the caravan. The fight was set for three hours before sundown. and all the boys gathered at the spot. JJ started to go through his paces doing a few pushups and a twenty metre sprint.
"Fuck lads that's weird where are these boys at?" Nobody had showed up on time, JJ's arms were starting to get sore from shadow boxin, "me arms get sore when my fists have nothing to hit," he said sadly. To their surprise, Big Bad Boris never showed up and the next day there was an spine chilling silence in the country. They headed off and as they were approaching Zelengorsk they heard gunfire, JJ's da quickly sped the caravan off-road up a hill to get a better look over the town. When they were watching over the town they couldn't believe their eyes, "those soldiers are just shooting people down, we needa get the fuck outta here!!" "No." replied JJ's da "there's something more going on here, they are not people son".
Bombs then started to land around the outskirts as they turned around to run back to the caravan a shell hit the caravan and knocked everyone flyin, JJ hit his head and passed out. He regained consciousness as his father carried him running through woods, "Where the fuck is everyone else??" JJ shouted at his da to no reply, just a cold stare. His head was spinning from shadow boxin and drinking too much, on top of the world ending. They found an abandoned building in the woods and got some respite.
JJ fell asleep at the fire they made for only thrity minutes, and his father was gone, nowhere to be seen. He was now all by himself, on the verge of losing his mind.
To be continued