Born To Lose
Once upon a time, a social worker with some really rank breath told me that I've been through some traumatizing shit.
I can't really relate though, since my early childhood is mostly a blur.
Why anyone would even want to drag up scarring shit for a kid to remember is beyond me. Fucking sadists.
Truth be told, I sometimes I get the feeling that life hates me. Not just with having to deal with cranky old farts with halitosis, but in that I think I was born to lose when it comes to those useless little comforts of life like stability and happiness. Fate has been out to get me since I was learning my first words, but it's all good, 'cause there's one thing that even shitty Fate can't take from me, and that's my willto survive.
That will has served me through thick and thin. I've lost a family I don't remember, been through a foster care system that doesn't actually care, and then lost the mentor who took me in and cared for me like his own son. I've been mugged, beaten, chased by the police, drug dealers, and some really creepy motherfuckers who I'm pretty sure were part of an underground sex trade, and yet, I'm still alive. I'm alive and kicking.
So fast forward from a relatively shitty childhood and past the few good years I had under Baek's wing, and you have me now: a hustler with a bad attitude and an even worse reputation. Though not the most glamorous of lifestyles, it's a living. As for my personal attributes... could anyone really blame me for being a cynical asshole? If they do, they can go sit and spin, 'cause I don't give a shit. Living on the streets doesn't exactly make you a warm and fuzzy kind of guy, and it certainly doesn't put food in your belly.
What does earn the cash for that food is fighting, and fighting is what I'm good at. Just ask any of the suckers whose asses I've kicked and hard-earned wages I've taken. 'Delivering the pain', as one of my seedier companions put it, is one of my few developed talents, and is certainly the one I'm most proud of.
That talent is one I'm quite looking forward to using on my next opponent, a loaded looking Japanese pretty boy who's probably taken a couple karate classes, gone to the gym, and suddenly thought he's tough shit. I'll be more than happy to demolish that delusion for him.
He's standing there like he's hot shit with his fancy suit and starched collar now, but that won't last long. Soon enough he'll be running back to his mama, the mama that I can almost guarantee irons that fancy suit and packs his sack lunch before sending him off with a pat to that spiky head. Tch.
I may have been born to lose in everything else, but my record is perfect in fighting. I intend to keep it that way.
He moves into position and I smirk. Let the fun begin.