Hello! So, for those of you who have read it, you will know that the first half of this story is the beginning to my other story Into Oblivian. This is because I wanted to have a story that was all human, and I actually really liked the way I wrote the beginning to both stories and the idea of a boxing ring which was mentioned (and lied about) in Into Oblivian appealed to me.

NOTE: this is not the same as Into Oblivian. After the first half, there is another bit that is important and you should read, even if you only skim over the first half (if you have already read before mentioned story).

Hope you like it :)

Chapter song/s: Californication - Red Hot Chilli Peppers
Smells Like Teen Spirit - Nirvana
Rhiannon - Fleetwood Mac

(Yes, this story might be...sort of...well, it is named after the song Scar Tissue by the Red Hot CHilli Peppers. Not only because it is a fantastical song, but I was kinda stumped for ideas.)

DISCLAIMER: The Mortal Instruments series belongs to Cassandra Clare, not me. *sigh*

Scar Tissue

The guys that surrounded me were ragged looking and smelled like onions. The biggest one had teeth that were rotting in his head, and the knife glinted dangerously in his great paw as he gestured violently at me.

'Give us your wallet,' he growled. My back was pressed against the bricks of the alley and everything was shadowed slightly, like the alley had sucked all light out, leaving only shadows and mould behind. The six guys were fanned out in a ragged semi-circle in front of me. One or two, including the big one, had knives whilst the others just had their fists and sneering faces. Some of them looked no older than me, and the sight of them, rugged and homeless, made something like sadness spark inside me. I didn't let it show on my face.

Slowly, I let my hand drop to my pocket, sliding my empty wallet out of my pocket. The muggers didn't know it, but I had about as much cash as them.

Tomorrow was pay day.

I calmly and silently pulled my liscense from the wallet, sliding it into my back pocket before I tossed it on the ground in front of the muggers.

'It's empty,' I told them honestly as a skinny looking guy darted forward, rifling though the wallet eagerly, his bony shoulders sagging when he realised I was telling the truth.

The big guy growled and took a threatening step forward, thrusting the knife in front of him. I regarded him coolly, even though my entire body was tensed up for the fight I knew was about to come.

'What're you playin' at, you little shit?' He grunted, sending a waft of sour smelling breath in my direction. I blinked in apparent offense.

'Now now, no need to swear, there could be children around.'

The big guy growled again and suddenly lunged forward, fists outstretched, the knife slashing wildly. I ducked swiftly to the side, so swiftly in fact that he slammed into the brick wall with a surprised shout. I didn't even have time to laugh. The other six guys were on me, fists and legs flying as they tried to land a hit.

None of them succeeded and within three minutes, at least three of them were lying groaning on the ground. The other four - big guy included - hesitated for a moment.

'Come on then,' I taunted. 'Or is it too much for you? Perhaps I should tie my hands behind my back, make it even.'

Cliched maybe, but it worked.

The remaining four charged as one and we were at it all over again. I twisted the big guy's wrist, sending his knife flying and followed it up with an elbow to the chin. He flew backwards with the force of it, stone cold, but I had already turned my attention to the others. It seemed that they would be following their unconscious mates, when a flash of bright red caught the corner of my eye and I was distracted. I faltered, and that slight hesitation was all the mugger needed. His fist rushed clumsily towards my face, I twisted, but his leather covered knuckles slammed across my temple, sending me spinning dizzily to the side. Shock surged through me. I struggled to regain my balance through the pain in my head and turned to the muggers, only to see a blur of red and blue and white attacking them fiercely.

Pain exploded through the side of my head as I tried to step forward. Damn, that guy had got me good. I staggered, reaching out a hand to steady myself against the wall just as the last mugger dropped to the ground like a sack of bricks and his attacker turned to face me.

To say I was shocked by what I saw was an understatment.

The person who stood before me was about five foot nothing, pale with rich red hair that danced in curls around her face. Yes, her face. And she was possibly the most beautiful girl I had ever seen or ever will see.

And right now, that girl's face was creased with worry. At me. I swayed on my feet, wanting to say something, but my mouth felt like it was full of cotton.

'Whoa, there,' the girl said, rushing forward to grasp my elbow. Goose-bumps raced up my arm, along with a spark of heat and I heard her gasp, dropping my arm like it burned her and I knew she felt it too.

I gaped at the girl, before her raised eyebrows stunned some sense into me. I closed my mouth with a snap, along with my eyes (without the snap) and leaned against the wall.

'I'm fine,' I muttered, suddenly furious with myself. Where had smooth, sarcastic Jace Lightwood gone? Oh, that's right, he was knocked out with the rest of the muggers, leaving this stumbling fool behind.

'I don't think you are,' the girl said doubtfully, her fingers on my arm again, and then I felt them skimming across the side of my head. I could feel a kind of wetness trickling down the side of my cheek. I didin't answer her, just focused on not throwing up.

'Look, I think you have concussion.' The girl was speaking again and I forced myself to listen. 'Um, can you walk?'

'Uh...I think so,' I murmured, taking a single step away from the wall. Immediately, dizziness and nausea rushed through me and before I knew it, my breakfast was lying on the pavement below me. I heard the girl gasp, felt hands on my back, but the world was bucking ferociously, sending me flying through the air and falling through the earth until I gave in completely to oblivion.

O.o

'Oh shivers,' Clary gasped as the golden haired boy sagged forward, his entire body crumpling to the ground in an unconscious heap. Darting forward, she managed to catch his elbow, preventing his head from smacking against the hard New York pavement.

Side-stepping the vomit the boy had left on the ground, Clary manouvered herself so that she could see his face properly, and gently slapped his cheek.

'Wake-up!' she said desperately, pulling him along the ground until his head and shoulder rested in her lap, the blood from his head wound dripping through his hair and onto her jeans.

When he didn't stir, Clary pulled her phone from her pocket, dialling a number that was as familiar to her as her own.

He answered on the third ring, his breath coming out in pants that filled her ear-piece with static. He must have just come from a sparring session.

'Hello?'

'Simon!' Clary half shouted. 'I need you to come get me. There was this boy and some muggers and then he puked and I can't wake him up and - '

'Clary!' Simon shouted, breaking up her muddled rant. 'Take a breath, slow down, and say again.'

Clary did as she was told, forcing her muddled thoughts into some semblance of order.

'I need you to come get me. I'm in an alley way, on forty-fifth st. There's a boy - he was attacked by some muggers and now he's unconscious.'

She heard Simon exhale a sharp breath, and listened as the distant sounds of the boxing ring faded completely.

'Alright, Clary, I'll be there in five.'

'Thanks, Simon,' Clary breathed in relief and hung up the phone, turning her attention back to the boy in her lap. She needed to move him out further, so Simon would be able to find them. Clary stood up, carefully tucking her hands under his arms and lifting him into a semi-sitting position. Grunting, Clary managed to pull his arm around her shoulders, so he leant against her, gold head lolling on his chest. The boy groaned, his eyelids fluttering and Clary just hoped he would wake up so she could get his dead weight off her.

It wasn't that he was over-weight or anything - quite the opposite in fact. The boy was tall and lean, strong looking muscles covered by soft skin and winding, celtic looking tattoos.

'Come on,' she muttered. 'Wake up. Please wake up.'

The boy groaned again, and finally his eyelids flickered open, exposing the intensely gold irises beneath. He lifted his head, wincing in pain and looked at her in surprise, his eyes bleary and unfocused.

'What the - ' he began but Clary was pulling him forward, having spotted Simon pulling up in his beat-up van.

'Come on,' she said gently, and tugged him towards the car, his arm still wrapped around her shoulders. Simon jumped out of the van, leaving it idling at the curb and ran to drape the boy's other arm around his shoulders, taking the load from Clary.

Running forward, Clary wrenched the van open, helping Simon get the boy into the back-seat of the car. He lay down, his eyes closed again, but she knew he was at least semi-conscious by the fact that he was mumbling under his breath.

Clary shifted so that his head was in her lap again, telling herself it was because she didn't want him rolling off the seat.

When she leaned in to try and hear what it was he was mumbling, Clary realised it was a long and colourful string of profanities that would have made even a sailor blush.

She smirked.

So, what'd you guys think? Remember, it will be different to Into Oblivian, not just a human version.

Read and review and you might get a teaser for the next chapter!...you know, once I actually write it...

Blue.