Notes: Hiya everyone! This story is going to be a bit different. It is from a compete set of original characters, each written by a different author. We hope you enjoy and don't be afraid to let us all know what you think.

Chapter 1

Pippa "Pip" Nesdin -

Her fist smashed into his face with one loud audible thunk. It collided with Tristen Smyth's nose in one graceful movement and the power and anger behind the swift attack was enough to send him reeling backwards, stumbling on those chubby legs of his. Each movement honed in from years of fighting on the streets, from years of rebellion and mischief. She had by no means grown up on the streets, she had lived on them, choosing when to use them for shelter and protection and choosing when she left them and went home. She preferred the mess of the streets, the dirt and the fight that it involved; she hated being in her home with her persistent mother and abusive father. So it was the freedom and liberation that came from running amuck in the streets that kept her feeling more alive then the prison of her home.

She felt his nose crack and break under the force and a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, delighted at the pleasure his pain brought her. Sometimes it was easy to pretend that the person she was hitting was her father, kind of like payback for all the times he had dared to hit her. The steely-eyed girl had not dared to hit her father back, not yet at least, and she doubted she'd ever have the courage to do so. So she sought comfort in other things, such as fighting on the streets and bashing up those who deserved it. There was nothing more pleasing in that moment then the cry of pain, the fresh spout of blood and those teary eyes. By no means was she an overly violent girl; she just refused to allow bad people to get away with horrible crimes. You didn't hurt or touch the people she cared about without suffering and for a sixteen year old girl she had a lot of blood on her hands, she'd never killed anyone, but there were broken bones, and numerous amounts of wounds.

The boy in front of her was suffering nothing compared to what others had gone through. He gasped, hands clutching his broken nose, soon they were slick with blood and it was rolling down his arms and he was crying like some stupid, dumb baby.

"It hurbs, yub batch." He spat, moving his hands momentarily away from the flow of blood. She despised blood, it was sticky, hot and it just felt plain awful. She wasn't the type of girl to faint at the sight of blood, in fact she was rather desensitized to the whole violence thing it was just blood itself, it was yuck. It was easy enough to see broken bones and blood oozing from wounds, but she just hated getting it on herself, it was terribly difficult to wash out. Besides explaining to her religious nutcase of a mother why she had blood all over her clothes was always a difficult thing to do. Spit dripped down his chin, tinged with his own blood and he stared at her, eyes glaring daggers.

It wasn't the first death glare she had ever received; she doubted it would be her last.

"I'll hurb you fah dis." He threatened, she clucked her tongue in disapproval, his bloodied teeth flashing in the evening light, and she laughed, emerald green eyes flickering with cold steel. It was always funny to watch people threaten her, there had only been one or two times when she had ended up on the ground being bashed senseless. But no one was in a terribly good situation when it was four to one. Eyeing Tristen she pursed her lips, before shrugging carelessly. She arched her back, hands reaching forwards and up over her head as she stretched, completely unfazed by his aggression. He moves to his feet and she eyes him, not in the least bit worried.

"Well to actually hurt me you'd have to be capable of landing a blow." She replied, crooked grin replacing the smirk. Taunting was always fun, she found it rather entertaining, although she normally lacked the ability to formulae some witty response to some of the things people said. "Which-" She ran a hand through her dark red hair, as she spoke "-you are most definitely are not capable of doing." Twisting the bundle slightly before tying it up with a piece of string. The shorter bits fell limply around her face, framing it, making her emerald green eyes stand out even more.

"Besides all of this is your own fault. You're the one who started this; you don't speak to Eve li-"

She's cut off as he throws himself forwards in one uncoordinated move, she side-steps easily, throwing her bent arm out, elbow colliding with his face, she grunts with the force. He bends forwards with a cry and she follows up, spinning to her side, digging her left heel into the ground and kicking her right leg up and into his chest, the air flies from his lungs in one quick motion. He lands on the ground with a loud thud, gasping for air, but none would enter his lungs. Being winded didn't hurt that much, it was just the way your body begged for air, that made it the worse. You'd start panicking and it was awfully funny watching as people flailed, trying to breathe with desperation, the realization sinking in and then all at once it'd get through and they'd look so relieved.

Fucking idiots.

"Had enough, yet?" She stepped closer, her hand was throbbing, her elbow ached, but it was the kind of pain that gave one pleasure. Larger chunks of her hair slipped from her ponytail, falling around her face. It was the kind of pain you got from knowing you had split someone's face open, knowing they were annoyed at you, maybe even afraid. But Tristen Smyth was the biggest dickhead in all of Trost district and so he looked up through the pain and he sneered, she hated him, she hated him even more now. He had spoken to her best friend in such a disrespectful manner, and he was going to pay for that. She was ready to make him sorry for even looking in Eve's direction. She moved a step closer, and then it happened. He spat. Some disgusting mixture of blood and spit hit her. She stopped, eyes widening a fraction before she turned her gaze downwards, following the blob of spit that had escaped his mouth.

Oh.

He had not just done that.

A giant blob of spit sat on her shoe. She turned her attention back to Tristen raising an eyebrow. "That was fucking rude." She stepped closer, the grin fading from her lips. "I've been understanding, I've been kind and this-" She points to her foot, voice low and deadly "-is how you repay me" She crouched down, eyes and face level with his. "I'll kill you for that." The words slide out, a whisper, as cold as ice. Fear was something she refused to feel, she fought it off with everything she had, her biggest fear was her father and he was the only thing that scared her – or so she liked to believe. Fear seemed to spill into his eyes, there was no more joking in her tone, there was no more laughter, no more smiles and it seemed to be slowly sinking in that she was not to be messed with. She was a threat, she wasn't an idiot and she would sure as hell hurt him. Tristen swallowed, and through the pain he was in her tried to move backwards, but his hands pressed against the stonewall of the alley.

"Tsk tsk, don't try and run away from me. That's just rude." She stands up and he follows, scrambling up against the wall, his breathing is heavy, and blood still oozes from his shattered nose. She'd never understand why people were so awfully rude, why couldn't they just behave? People were disgusting. Then she moves, and her hand wraps around his throat and she shoves him harshly against the wall. There's a flash, a quick movement and a knife is in her hand, blade hovering dangerously close to his cheek. She presses it against his skin, eyes tracing the silver as she moves it, drawing patterns against his cheek. Tristen's eyes widened in fear and he tried to move, but she squeezed tighter, making sure he couldn't even breathe. It was something incredible to watch as a person's face changed when no oxygen reached their brain. All the colour drained from their cheeks and then all at once colour would spring forwards; their lips would turn blue and purple. She liked those colours a lot more.

Feebly he tried to breathe, his mouth opened and closed, his cheeks paled and his hands clutched at the hand around his throat. His fingers dug into her skin, but he was too weak to break through the lack of oxygen making his limbs refuse to do what he bid them. But her grip was ironbound; there was strength in her body that had taken years to build. Weeks and months and years of training to build muscle, but she had never been that strong. It had always been her speed and agility that had gotten her places – that had gotten her out of sticky situations. Today she wasn't going to break any bones, not intentionally at least.

Then all at once she let go of his throat, stepping backwards as he slipped to the dirt. "Just kidding," she said, tone sickly sweet. "Just had to scare you enough to make sure you stayed away." She smiled down at him, that crooked grin of hers as he tried to get that air back into his brain. By now his head would be pounding, stars would be dancing across his vision, chest would be burning like fire. She put the knife away, tucking it into the pants of her jeans. Sighing she turned her gaze back to the boy, still gasping for air, sitting in the dirt, covered in blood.

"Yo-you-you're… crazy!" He spat, eyes wild and wide. His legs seemed to refuse to work, he tried to scramble to his feet, but they wouldn't let him. The human body was so incredibly weak, it took so little to ruin it, to destroy it and make it useless. He slid across the ground a few inches at a time and she followed. "G… Get away."

She laughed at the remark, and bent down once more to stare at the boy, then all at once she was serious again, the smile faded from her lips in a split second, her eyes turned to steel. "If you ever speak to Eve again I will cut your balls off and feed them to the goats." She stared at him; eyes holding his fearful gaze in place, letting every word sink in. Straightening she watched as the boy stumbled to his feet and hobbled away, he looked back at her every few steps and she stared, he'd hurry forwards as though he thought she was going to chase him, like some dog with his tail between his legs. She wouldn't chase him, however, her fun had been had. His blood had been spilled. She grinned, watching him move away.

"Hey Pippa!" She heard her name called; it cut through the air of triumph that she had surrounded herself with at having successfully crushed that boy. Pippa Nesdin turned around, her grin broadening as the familiar voice of Eve Carnet echoed in the alley. Her childhood friend had done everything with her, both of their mother's were religious idiots and so the two daughters had met, and quickly they had become the best of friends, inseparable. Pippa would do anything to protect Eve; she was her family and her friend. She waved at Eve and responded with a quick shout of acknowledgement to let her know Pippa was coming. Before she headed off her eyes drifted backwards for the briefest of moments, but the boy was already gone.

Shrugging she looked down at her hand, blood covered the skin across her knuckles and her lips curled with distaste. With a groan of disgust she wiped the blood off in one swift movement and she moved off, feet skipping along the ground as she moved to her best friends side.