A/N: I don't own anything.

The familiar smell of cheap cigars, and even cheaper booze welcomes you as you take those confident steps into what you hope to be simple day of work. After looking around, you see it is not possible. Like always, a bar dominates the far corner. Making room for the main attraction at Puck's. The ring. There is a bigger crowd than usual around the ring, making the atmosphere more unsettling. Puck is actually out of his 'office', and is speaking self-assuredly to a filthy drunkard from behind the bar. Inside the ring, a lone woman stands proud, hands in the air in triumph. Blood on her knuckles, dripping down her forearms, eventually to the floor. It startles you when is adds a scream to her celebration, you've always hated loud sounds.

Puck eyes light up as he spots you out of the corner of his eye. His eyes glow in anticipation. More than usual, but it's not out of the ordinary. You are his best performer. He struts toward you, cockiness and arrogance seem to ooze out of him, he smiles with mischief as he stops too far into your personal space. But you're used to it.

"Santana, I'm not sorry to tell you that you'll working an unscripted one tonight." You raise an eyebrow in response, talking has never resulted in anything good. Luckily, he catches the hint and explains. "Ya' see, I never have been one to upset any customer, and he keeps claiming these fights are rigged. So he decided to switch his fighter last minute. Gotta bring the real stuff out now sugar. If you could, make the bout decisive, don't even give her a chance." He says this all with a smile on his face, the glow never dimmed.

You nod in response. You weren't going to object, it won't be a big problem for you. Might as well get it over with. Puck claps you on the shoulder as he walks to different a customer, probably telling him the changes to tonight. It's not like an injury would effect you. You've regenerated all of your injuries since you were 23. Which was 34 years ago. Best part is, you still look like you're 23. But you remember the day it happened. Too well. Especially since you want to forget more than anything in the world. Alcohol doesn't work, you heal too damn fast to get drunk, no matter how much you drink.

It's been five months since you've been working with Puck. Longer than anywhere else. Gotta move from New Gotham soon.

A loud wolf whistle takes you back to Earth, and you realize you've been standing here like an idiot for more than you'd of liked to. You look up to see who was whistled at. You've made sure it'd never be you, by dressing in what must be a potato sack's ugly cousin and wearing the worst of faces.

You see electric blue eyes staring at you instead.

The eyes consume all other thoughts. Only electric blue eyes. They were almost cat-like in shape, and also like a cat, the eyes never blinked. They glowed in concern, curiosity, and something you haven't seen. But you did, breaking yourself out of the accidental hypnotism. Seeing the rest of her body is surprising. You'd never of thought someone as beautiful would get near this place with a ten foot pole. Hell, a ten mile pole. Beautiful people are alien to places like these, you're tempted to whistle yourself.

You start to moving towards the ring. If you didn't start soon, Puck would find an excuse to dock your pay. Greedy little bastard. Though you don't need to eat or warmth to live, you still love to be both warm and full. Also Puck take it upon himself to beat you - you'll heal, but it still hurts like a mother fucker- which is something you'd like to avoid.

Preparing for a bout at Puck's doesn't take long. It's more undressing. A sports bra and spanks is all you need. Maybe gloves if you're a wuss. A deep breath is taken, and into the ring you go. The blood on the floor, it's still warm.

The bright lights temporarily blind you. When you can finally see it, you're as shocked as hell. How'd they get a the endangered white rhino in here? Lead it here with donuts? It baffles you. Before you can figure it out, the rhino starts to charge. Avoiding the charge narrowly, thinking of a strategy is the next plan of action. Hurting something that's surrounded by 4 inched of fat everywhere but their face isn't something you usually think about. Quickly, a plan comes to you.

Rhino starts to charge again, instead of avoiding the charge, you race to met it in the middle. Right on the puddle of blood. Sliding, you chop it's legs form under it. The resounding bam makes a loud sound, making you wince, never has the fear of loud sounds not been in your conscience. Before the rhino can get up you straddle it's back, and hit it's head against the already blood smeared floor. It's blood is the same color as everyone else you've ever faced. Within seconds the rhino is out. Like the countless woman before you, you raise your fists, blood dripping down. But you don't vocalize your triumph. It never has given comfort to you.

Looking around you see all but two shares you elation. The endangered white rhino's handler of course. The other is the electric eyed beauty.

It shouldn't effect you, but it does. It makes this the fast mood swing after a fight you've had. Well screw her and the high horse she rides. If she doesn't like the fighting, she can just leave. Huffing, you turn around. Before she can effect your mood even more than she already has. Nobody will ever have control of you. It will never happen again.

x.x.x.x.x

Walking 'home' was like ever night in New Gotham. Sirens in the distance, the occasional person, and the smell of recent rain. It always seems to be wet here.

Halfway 'home' the itch of the feeling of being followed becomes too strong for you to ignore. Stopping and turning more often than you ever have. Still, the feeling doesn't leave you. It's seems like hours, but you know logically it has only been minutes. When you finally reach the alleyway that's the only pedestrian way to get home, you look back once more. Nobody in sight. Instead on comforting you like it should, it raises your mental hackles even more. Now you start power walking towards your temporary safe haven.

A yelp of pain emits from outside the alleyway. You don't want to turn around to help who ever is in danger, but for some reason you do. If anyone were to ask, you wouldn't have any type of an answer.

Rounding the corner, you see eight men, three of them down. Surrounding one lone person. The beautiful blonde.

A/N: Continue? Y/N will suffice.