A musing or something I came up with at dawn one day. Heavy swearing. If I get good reactions I might add another chapter -an ending.
I don't own Maximum Ride. And it's a damn shame.
Macy is seven years old, a tender age where she has yet to understand the adult world in the slightest -she doesn't know about what her father talks about at diner just makes affirmative noises when he smiles and frowns when she sees his jaw down. Macy has yet to loose her child-like perception on the world which perhaps the effect of her mother dragging her to church every Sunday, having her attending bible school religiously every Wednesday with her friends, and sheltering her from the realities and horrors of the world.
So really it isn't much of a surprise when she's playing at the park one day -on the monkey bars, because the monkey bars are where all the older kids hang out and Macy's ready to be older already- and sees birds that she immediately thinks of angels. Nope, no surprise at all.
What is a surprise is when the birds land and turn out not to be birds at all but actual angels.
Angels. Macy's mother nearly has a heart attack.
One of them is the leader, a girl with tawny wings that are huge -Macy only knows the color because that's the color of her sister Alex's, cat. And there's a boy with dark wings that stares at her like Kyle -Alex's boyfriend- stares at her sister.
Macy knows -as any seven year old knows, without any doubt or thought- that they are absolutely in love with each other. But her brow crinkles up in confusion -because she didn't know that angels could love anyone but God.
There are others with the boy and the girl of course. Two boys and two girls. One girl -the blond one- looks about Macy's age.
Macy is ecstatic and she runs out to them, as fast as her little kid legs can run, despite her mother's yells to come back, but before she can reach them, they're running and jumping into the air -wings spread wide as they soar into the picturesque afternoon sky and disappear among the clouds.
Macy falls to her knees and cries -her fingers outstretched towards the heavens as if she could still touch the winged angels while silent tears stream down her face.
Macy is seventeen and has lost her innocence along the hard and rough road that is life. She has lost faith in 'The Father' and burned her bible with a cigarette. She is no longer on speaking terms with her mother -since that dirty slut slept with her manager, thus cheating on her father and causing the downfall of their marriage and the shattering of Macy's view of reality. She hardly sees daddy dearest- he'd much rather spend time with Jack Daniels than her, and she's content to let him drink himself into oblivion, as long as she doesn't have to sit around watch. Alex is off at college and Macy misses her sister -but only half the time. The other half she can't bear to think about her stripper sister or the niece she hardly gets to see.
Personally, she can't fucking wait until she's eighteen and can 'get the hell out of dodge' so to speak. She's tired of this shit hole town, and her shit hole life, and her boring job at the supermarket, and her jerk of a boyfriend, and drinking herself to death like her father, and smoking so much that she can't make it through the day without having a pack of cigarettes on her. She's absolutely terrified -in a way that makes her clutch her stomach at night, like she used to when her parents would yell at each other before the divorce- that she'll turn out just like her father, or her mother, or her sister.
She bites her nails to the quick and waits up at night like a kid on Christmas morning who can't fucking close their eyes because presents and happiness aplenty are just on the other side of sleep. Of course her eighteenth birthday is a week or so away, and she has work tomorrow but the anticipation that something better lay just down the road sent a thrill up her spine, made her spin in a way that made sleep an almost impossibility.
So when her asshole of a boyfriend comes in apologizing with a rose and a smile- a smile that made her say yes to that first date with him even when she had trust issues and no time for dating- she feels guilty, but pushes it down, down, down into a locked box where it will never see the light of day again -just like all the other things she doesn't want to deal with- and tells him that it's over. She cuts that string, the thing that will hold her back in this ugly place.
When she gets home that day dad is drunk, and angry -a terrible combination. He yells, and she has the same temper he has and soon they're screaming. The inevitable blow falls and she goes flying back into the wall, reflexive tears welling up in her eyes as she grabs her cheek and touches her split lip gingerly. She doesn't cry though -she hasn't cried since she was seven. Instead she cracks his bottle over his head -beer tonight, not whisky, so it wouldn't kill him, guess the bastard is luck in that respect- and pack all her clothes, ignoring high school t-shirts or anything that has her name on it.
She throws her suitcase in the trunk of her car, a box of her favourite books in the backseat along with her father's plasma screen -she'll sell it to a pawn shop tonight, it'll help her get on her feet nicely with the other money she'd saved up. She wouldn't have taken it if he hadn't have hit her, but now she sees it as just punishment -the bottle over the head had only been self-defence, he should be glad she hadn't done worse.
When she turns eighteen she buys her first legal pack of cigarettes, but it doesn't really matter -the guy hadn't even asked for ID with the amount of piercings on her face. He just assumed she was old enough and she was fine with that.
As she leaves the shitty gas station she notices a bulletin board covered with 'Have you seen this child?' papers. Among them she sees a picture of herself and snatches it down before strolling out -the guy behind the counter not even noticing. Macy looks at it and grimaces -it's an old picture, before she got her piercings- but she can still recognise herself and she hates that, because she's not that girl anymore.
So she goes to a salon - a cheap one- and asks them to cut all of her brown hair off, and dye it blond. The woman who cuts her hair eyes her wearily, stressing how beautiful her chocolate curls are and 'honey, are you sure?' Oh yeah, she's sure.
After a half an hour most all of her hair is fallen to the ground and her head feels lighter, as does her chest. When she looks in the mirror, she hardly recognises herself. In fact, at first glance she looks like a boy with too full lips hidden behind her snake bites. She smiles to the woman who looks a little sad as she sweeps up the long tendrils of hair from the floor.
Macy tips her well.
When on the interstate headed to a new city to start a new life she decided that she couldn't possibly be Macy anymore. Macy is a little girl who grew up into a harsh world.
Macy decides not to be Macy anymore.
So, she becomes Jackie.
Jackie's been in Los Angeles -the City of Angels- for over two months and has dove into the world of the gritty beauty. Street fighting for money while working the late shift at a diner, and living in the crappiest apartment she's ever seen with the best view of downtown she could get -it's costing her more in rent than it should, but beggars can't be damn choosers. It's the happiest she's ever fucking been since she was seven and believed -really fucking believed with everything she's ever had- that there was something greater out there. She has a cracked rib and a bruise on cheekbone that's a odd shade of purple and she's smiling -despite the fact it hurts. She's drinking less -in fact, she hasn't even gotten tipsy since she left home. She's still smoking, and she honestly doubts she's ever gonna fucking quit, but that doesn't matter.
She's happy- but she's lonely. It's an anomaly.
Jackie's been in the City of Angels for a year. She's still on the gritty beauty side of things -and it will stay that way, because this is reality not that glass box they try and stick you in. She's made friends in the wrong people, drug dealers and prostitutes -people who fucking understand her, or the part she shows them at least. They think the sun shines out her ass, and she's not about to correct them because she's gritty and smart and quick and dangerous -a perfect fit for their world, and she fits right in without complaint.
She's never been more content.
She's been in the City of Angels for a year and a half when she sees them again. She's with Jenna -her prostitute best friend- and Ricky- Jenna's flavour of the month- when she hears a flap of wings. The two love-birds are distract and Jackie's always been too damn curious for her own damn good and peaks around the corner and into an ally and lo and fucking behold she recognises them. It's been over twelve years but it's them -or at least two of them. A guy with blond hair that's not much older than she is, who used to be one of the boys in the park and a lithe little girl who's just as old as she is that used to be the smallest one.
The girl's gaze snaps to Jackie and she takes off running, the boy glancing at Jackie before taking off after the girl -who looks so much like her that she couldn't not be his sister- both of them tucking their wings in.
Suddenly Jackie's seven all over again -but this time she's fucking faster, and smarter, and doesn't believe in God -just in miracles.
This is a miracle.
"Jack!" Jenna calls, but Jackie doesn't listen.
"Wait!" She yells at the winged angels, running as fast as her legs can. Which is only just a tiny bit slower than they can, but it doesn't matter, she's right on their heels -Jenna and Ricky an ally and a block behind her. "Fuck, can't you just wait for one goddamn fucking minute! I'm not going to hurt you!"
In fact, she doesn't even know what she wants to do when she catches them -she'll figure that out later. For now she's focused on running and only running.
"Hurry Gazzy!" The girl chirps, taking off into the air as she sides around a corner and into another ally.
"Wait! Please, wait!" Jackie calls, and damnit they aren't flying away this time. This time she's going to touch the things she once thought were angels -for no more reason than to prove they really aren't angels after all.
"Angel why aren't you-" The guy -Gazzy- rumbles, his wings expanding, but whatever Angel isn't Jackie doesn't find out because she jumps and grips onto the back of his jacket. He jerks down and it slides off before he knocks her down with his wings and flies away -leaving her with a worn denim jacket in her hand that has slashes on the back that would let his wings out.
She looks up to the twilight sky -dusky and perfect, her favourite time of day- with the jacket in her hand, and wonders if they can see her.
"Guess I'm not fucking crazy after all." She decides, slipping the jacket on and wondering what the fuck all this means and knowing that she'll never get a goddamn answer -as is life.
It's a day after she saw them in her city. Angels in the City of Angels, who woulda thunk it? Certainly not her. Macy would have, but Jackie should know better. Jackie is hardened logic, street cred, and tough choices. Macy wouldn't last a day in Jackie's life. Macy could never last a minute in the street fights Jackie wins. Somewhere Macy stopped being Jackie, but Jackie will always be Macy -as if that makes a lick of fucking sense.
Jenna comments on the jacket as asks her where she ran off to. Jackie lies and tells her she stole it from a guy because she liked how it looked. It's only a half lie anyway -he was a guy and she did steal it and she likes the way it looks, but it certainly didn't happen that way, and that certainly wasn't why.
It's just a jean jacket - well worn and somewhere between light and dark- but she likes it. Jackie likes it a lot. Mostly for the cuts in the back and the embroidered 'The Gasman' on the pocket. It's special, and she has a gut feeling that someone -or something, if that's the case- will want it back.
Jenna shrugged it off with a 'Whatever, The Gasman' and a raspy smokers laugh. Jackie keeps her eyes trained on the sky all day and even Henry -her drug dealer friend who hires her once in a while to make sure the deals go the way they should- comments on her 'loftiness'. She tells him to 'mind his own fucking business' and smokes a cigarette, her eyes still trained on the sky.
He comes the next day, in the middle of the night -like she knew he would. She'd been sitting in the dark for the last hour waiting for him to sweep in and take the jacket while she slept. Too bad he wasn't expecting her to be sitting by the light switch with nun-chucks and a sadistic smile. When the figure eclipsed the light of her window -an impossibility to get to on the tenth story without using the loud fire escape- she knew it was him. When the moonlight was eclipsed for the second time- she first thought of the girl.
When she flipped on the light switch, Gazzy froze, and she recognised the red head as one of the boys. He was older than Gazzy -about twenty five, give or take- and blind, if those milky eyes were any indication. No girl in sight.
"I knew you'd be back. With a jacket this cool- I'd sure as hell want to get my hands back on it." Jackie smiled and took a long drag of her cigarette, before putting it out on the thick cuff of the jacket, burning a hole into the material.
Gazzy closed his eyes for a second -as if in pain- and turned to look at her.
"Shit." The red head muttered, sighing. "Max is going to castrate us and then she's going to blow up our missing genitals with one of my bombs before she sets that goddamn fucking jacket on fire."
"Max won't find out." The blond haired boy shook his head, eyeing me wearily enough for the both of them.
"Angel told you not to fucking come too. She'll rat us out and you know it."
Gazzy shook his head. "She won't tell, she owes me."
Jackie sat back and listened.
"Are you too finished bickering like a married couple?" She asked, gruffly.
"No." The red head shot a glare at Jackie -dead on.
"Hey, you, with the strawberry locks that are girlier than mine. You're in my fucking apartment -breaking and entering. Show a little goddamn respect." Jackie never claimed to be nice.
"What's that clicking?" He asked the blond boy.
"She has lips rings. Two." Gazzy stared.
"You have really good hearing." Jackie muttered, cocking her head to study his red hair.
"The best." He flashed a smile before frowning. "And you have really steady breathing for someone who's awake."
"I try." Jackie shrugged.
"Especially," The red head added. "when you smoke as much as you do."
"I know my apartment smells like nicotine. Stop trying to be clever." She murmured, playing with her nun-chucks. The red head shrugged and went to go check out her crappy kitchen.
"Are those really necessary?" Gazzy asked, eyeing her nun-chucks.
"Are they?" She asked raising a brow.
"We won't hurt you. We don't do that sort of thing to people who aren't trying to kill us." Gazzy muttered.
"Fine." She threw them on the bed and they bounced with a metallic clink as the metal links brushed together. "Happy 'The Gasman'?"
He blushed. "Uh…"
She cocked her head, wondering what he was doing.
"I'd be happier if I had my jacket back. Like you said -it's a really nice jacket and-"
"You're rambling." She cut him off.
"I like her Gazzy." The red head muttered from her dim kitchen, where he was rummaging through her cabinets.
"Thanks. You got a name bomb-maker?"
"Iggy." He smiled impishly, before returning to raiding her cabinets. She noticed eerily that he moved with perfect ease -not hitting anything or groping around. And why was he raiding her kitchen if he couldn't see?
Whatever, let him do whatever the fuck he wants. Jackie didn't care as long as she got what she wanted.
"Do you got a point Blondie?" She asked 'The Gasman'.
"Can I have my jacket back?"
"Depends, what are you willing to give for it?"
"Look, I don't have much-"
"I don't want anything material."
"I think she's propositioning you, dude." Iggy snickered from the kitchen. "I say take it. She sounds hot."
"No, I'm not propositioning you." I said leaning back in my chair.
Gazzy sighed. "Then what do you want?"
"I wanna see your wings."
"You've already seen them."
"Not up close."
He grimaces. "You sure there's nothing else."
"It's not like I'm putting you under a microscope. I don't want to study you. I just want a better look." Jackie muttered, impatiently.
"What if I don't comply? What if I just take my jacket back?"
"Then I kick your ass. I have a gun right -"
"There's no need for guns, right Gaz? Show the woman you're wings, you pussy." Iggy cut in, eating her peanut butter with his fingers. She glared at him before deciding it was a wasted effort and turned her attention back to the blond boy.
"You heard the man, take your shirt off." Jackie stood.
"What? You didn't say anything about a shirt-" Gazzy stammered.
"To see where they connect, Genius. I'm not interested in your body, just your wings."
"Not his personality?" Iggy asked from next to her, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
Jackie laughed, "Not especially. Who told you that you could have my peanut butter, anyway?"
"I did. It's -" Iggy started, smirking.
"Fine." Gazzy snapped, gripping the back of his shirt and pulling it over his head. Jackie's attention shifted as soon as his wings were visible. Finally, she'd be able to defeat her seven year old self's delusions that angels existed. Or, she'd have faith again -something that scared her shitless.
His wings snapped open with a woosh -a woosh that knocked over a lamp and blew a few pages of her library book, but that didn't matter because she was captivated by bare, hard muscled back and an over thirteen foot wingspan that barely- really, fucking barely, like an inch to spare on either side- fit in her apartment. Her mouth popped open just the slightest- nothing to be described as jaw dropping- and she took a step toward him, and then another, until she touched the very tip of his wing. Her fingers moved of their own accord and traced up the top of the primaries and then over the primary coverts, alula, and marginal coverts, until her fingers traced down the scapulars that were attacked to his back. Her fingers accidentally brushed against his bare skin, and he shivered, goosebumps spreading across his skin like wildfire. The feathers were softer -and warmer- than she'd expected and the skin of his back silkier -she tried to ignore the latter of her thoughts; when was the last time she'd been laid anyway?
She shook her head slightly - her fingers slipping down his secondary coverlets and to the tips of his secondaries.
"They're beautiful." Jackie murmured, revealing at the color- everything.
"Yeah, well, I guess." Gazzy muttered rubbing the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable.
Jackie slipped off her jacket -his jacket- and tossed it over his shoulder. "There you go Gasman. Happy?"
"Almost." He said retracting his wings.
"Not my problem. Our deal is done." She waved a dismissive hand at the blond boy as he tugged on his shirt.
"But ours isn't." Iggy spoke up.
"I don't have anything you want, Strawberry."
"Yes, you do."
"You can have the fucking peanut butter, it's expired anyway." Jackie mumbled, picking up her cigarettes.
"That's not what I want." He licked his fingers. "But I'll take it."
"What do you want?" She asked, lighting her cigarette with her old Zippo- something she'd gotten when she was sixteen.
"You're name, doll face." Iggy smiled.
"Why should I tell you?" She said blowing smoke in his face.
"I told you mine."
"I also gave you peanut butter." She countered, sitting back down on her crappy diner chair- a chair she'd stolen from her first actual job in this city.
"It's expired- trash. It doesn't count." He said.
Jackie liked this Iggy guy, he had balls -and not much tact, much like herself.
"Jackie." She said, de-ashing her cancer stick as the cherry burned it away too quickly for her liking.
"Jackie….?" He hedged, looking for a last name.
"I don't have a last name. It's just Jackie."
He paused, thinking. "Street fighter?"
"Now I'm curious. Why do you think that?"
"Overheard chanting. Thought you're voice sounded familiar though you haven't said 'bitch' or 'take this'." Iggy smiled.
She laughed, "Interesting. Lucky you, You've had the pleasure of meeting the undefeated champion of underground street fighting in the lovely City of Angels." A smirk painting her features as she said the last three words. "And now you have the pleasure of being the only people to ever break into my apartment and leave without something broken."
"We'll take the hint."
"Have a nice life." She turned around and waved them away, heading towards the bathroom -not concerned if they tried to steal anything because there wasn't anything worth stealing in her apartment besides the Zippo lighter in her pocket with her money, or the aviators on her nightstand but they were easily replaceable. She wasn't worried, she'd never see them again.
The next week she got evicted for not paying her rent- figures, but then again she knew it was coming, she even had her bags packed. And after an excruciatingly smelly cab ride she was at the darling Miss Molly's apartment -since Jenna was refusing to talk to her this week, for whatever fucking reason she had come up with.
Miss Molly let her in without a word -a favor, repaid.
Jackie smiled and dropped her two suitcases -her entire life, packed away in them- in the guest room and left, Molly tossing a spar key her way. Jackie slides her aviators down her nose and winks at the woman with a tight bun on top of her head and librarian glasses hiding clever eyes.
Fighting has always come easy for her -throwing punches with locked boxes worth of pain behind them, cracking bottles over heads, knowing when, where, and how hard to hit. She was a natural- a firecracker. Fake left, jab right, uppercut, leg swipe.
Underground fighting didn't have many rules- a few overseers mostly, to make sure no one got murdered, or got to the hospital if they got too banged up. Generally anything goes unless discussed beforehand. You had to be careful, and specific if you didn't want to get stabbed.
You'd be surprised how many women love fighting -not watching but actually fighting- high school debutants, college grads, teachers, bad cops… you name it.
Jackie was just the best- and they all fucking knew it.
The second she stepped into the parking garage she was greeted like she was family -even the girl's who's asses she kicked to the emergency room; it was a respect thing.
She was respected here. This was her home.
She wasn't surprised when Ke-Ke, one of the overseers and a good friend of hers, pulled her aside. New girls to be taught a lesson, old opponents want rematches, and a few guys here to see her.
Only the last bit of information was a surprise.
Ke-Ke pointed to one of the pillars on the far wall where guys lounged -people who payed big bucks to see chicks fight.
Seeing dumb and dumber make her curiosity spike.
"Blondie and Strawberry." Jackie smiled a tad bit ruthlessly, hands shoved in pockets, aviators gleaming in the shitty lighting.
"You're apartment was empty." Gasman said, so unnecessarily.
"I am aware. I thought you said you didn't have material items. It costs a lot to get in here." She slipped her cigarettes out.
"We name dropped." Iggy shrugged. "Besides, we have friends fighting."
"The ride home card. You did some research."
Gazzy shrugged and Iggy nudged the guy next to him. Surprising that Jackie hadn't noticed him before -she'd remember him anywhere. The guy in love with the head girl- she remembered it all too well, and fuck, she wanted to forget. Angels in love- she'd been such a ridiculous little girl.
"They want to fight you." Gazzy said, glancing at where the new girls were clustered. Jackie thought she saw a flash of blond hair, on a too skinny and too tall girl.
"They'll have to wait in line. I'm a busy woman." Jackie muttered, taking a drag on her cigarette.
"Actually, dumbass over here wanted to fight you." The guy next to Strawberry said poking Strawberry in the chest.
"No boys. Girls only."
"That's what the girl at the entrance said. Even after he begged." Guy smirked.
"You're getting some sick and twisted pleasure out of this, aren't you Fang?" Iggy asked.
"Sure am…Strawberry." Fang grinned maliciously.
Iggy attacked him and he was better than Jackie excepted for a blind boy with wings. She shook her head and finished her cigarette in a single drag- mostly because her previous expectation had ended 'with wings'.
She dropped her cancer stick to the ground and stomped it out with her Converse clad foot, watching them fight with a trace of amusement.
"Who are you going to fight first?" Gazzy asked.
"Whoever Ke-Ke set me up for. That's the breaks. I can't take down all the new girls first night. That's boring."
"You shouldn't fight my sister."
"Why not? Afraid she'll lose."
"Not exactly."
Jackie laughed. Macy cringed in the confines of her mind. They both shook their head- that shit is getting old.
"Well, we might just see, now won't we?" Jackie smirked.
"Hey, Jack! Fight!" Ke-Ke shouted and she heeded the call, adrenaline in her veins cause this shit- this never got old, never.
A simple stretch out was all Jackie got as she headed over to Ke-Ke- legs and arms, but she was a limber bitch, she could handle this shit, she always did.
"Put some music on Ke. I'm feeling a Chris Brown beat down. What do you think?" Jackie smirked as the little girl -sixteen, and wearing high heels, poor footwear choice- paled even more. Ke-Ke gave the top five fighters the fun of thinning the heard -cutting out the ones that needed to be cut.
Alrights, fines, sures and whatevers ensued.
"Run it! Bitch!" She crowed, excitement visible in her eyes. Ke-Ke wasn't in this business for the violence -like Jackie was- but for the cat fights- the girl didn't keep her preferences hidden, and Jackie respected that.
"Standard newbie rules. Tap out." Jackie said sliding her jacket off and tossing her cigarettes out of her jeans pocket and tossing them out on her jacket. She rolled up her jeans and tightened her belt. "Agreed?"
"Y-yes." She stammered.
"Back out of this while you can. As soon as Ke-Ke plays the music that's it. No turning back until tap out. I won't go easy on you."
"I'm not backing down." The girl stuck her chin up a fraction of an inch.
"Then turn out your pockets." Jackie grinned like a Jackal. The girl did and Jackie smirked at Ke-Ke.
Run it! blasted out of the speakers- the official go.
Nervous girl charged and Jackie stepped out of the way, hands in pockets, whistling.
"Lesson one: No high heels." Jackie smirked, stretching her leg out, tripping the girl as she ran past, with ease. The girl went down- snap went the nose, and everyone fucking winced.
"First broken nose of the night!" Ke-Ke cheered, bobbing to the music, her fro bobbing with her.
Almost everyone cheered. Jackie didn't, she waited for High Heels to stand up or tap out. Turns out it was stand up -she even tossed the shoes to the side before snapping her nose back into place. Jackie smiled, impressed with perseverance and quick learning.
The girl still charged- but it was more controlled this time, balls of feet tapping against concrete. First attempt at a punch- easily avoided, Jackie sent one solid elbow to her back, avoiding kidneys, while High Heels let out a cry of pain.
"Tap out!" The girl cried.
"Tap out!" Ke-Ke cried out loudly, sounding disappointed.
"Hey kid. Come here a second." Jackie called. The girl limped in Jackie's direction, nervously.
"Two more free lessons. Watch your back, you're kidneys are there -and those fuckers are important. Understand? Good. Next, wear tennis shoes -broken in ones. You don't want bare feet. Sure more movement but having someone break your toes- not fun. They never feel the fucking same ever again, trust me on that one."
The girl nodded meekly.
"In!" Jackie called over her shoulder and Ke-Ke cheered enthusiastically.
"Next is…. Mika." Ke smiled, ruthlessly.
Jackie mumbled to herself as Mika stepped into the makeshift ring, made of people and buckets at the corners.
"Newbie rules, tap out. Turn out your pockets if you agree." Jackie drawls, bored, and wanting the adrenaline. The girl did and the fight started. This time Jackie moved, swiftly and took the girls feet out from under her, crushing down on top of her as she fell on her chest.
"Ow!" Mika cried. "Tap out!"
"Tap out!" Ke cried.
"Out!" Jackie cried.
"You almost, almost beat your record J." Roxy smiled from her corner bucket.
"Next, let's get this fucking show on the road." Jackie made impatient hand gestures.
"Nudge." Ke sang.
"Name you're poison." Jackie vaguely gestured to the amps.
"Fergie. Glamorous." The girl chattered.
Someone across the room whistled, and not for the song. Strawberry was grinning, and so was Gasman. Jackie cut a sharp glance at the girl, Nudge.
"Do you know the Newbie rules? No extras, just hand to hand. Turn out your pockets if you agree to the terms." Jackie hated repeating the mantra, but knew better than skip it. She'd nearly lost her liver that time.
Nudge smiled and pulled her pockets out, popping a piece of gum in her mouth before smacking it loudly as the music started.
Nudge was fast- really fast, and Jackie focused her attention intently until everything else was white noise in the background. Sharp jab after quick thrust- she found herself dancing out of the way and slipping back to surprise Nudge, but the girl caught on quick and Jackie had to change up her style at least three times. She landed a few good hits to the Nudge's stomach that left the girl without breathe and one fantastic one to her chest that went her toppling over coughing as the music ended. Not that Nudge hadn't landed any hits, no, she had. One chop to the shoulder, another to the back of the leg - that one stung like a motherfucker, deep muscle bruise- and two to the gut.
"Defiantly in." Jackie panted, laughing. Slapping Nudge on the back in a friendly way, smiling Jackie silently announced a very worthy competitor. Nudge smiled back, and Jackie walked out of the ring, picking up her cigarettes and her jacket. Jackie grabbed her nun-chucks out of the pocket of her jacket before dropping it back down into a pile, pulling a cancer stick out of her pack with her lips and lighting it with the flick of her wrist.
"J-" Ke started.
Jackie held up a finger and sent a glare in the girl's direction. "Have the new girls face each other while I have a goddamn five minute smoke."
Ke laughed. "You heard the woman! Nicole and Ashley, pick your poison."
And so it went- Jackie sat on the sidelines and smoked while she judged -because she could, she was undefeated. She wasn't sure the title would last long- she was getting worn from this, her body despite being used to the tortures needs a fucking break. She should retire while she's still undefeated- make things easier. Get a real hobby.
She'd fight one more time tonight- but no more newies, a challenge, but someone she knew that she could win against. Jackie reached up and snatched the list from Ke-Ke while she was busy jamming to Heartless. She flipped though the papers on the clip board until she found her list and everyone who had signed up to fight her. Most were too easy to win and she squelched up her face- before glancing up at the fight to see hair pulling and shook her head. No wonder Ke was excited.
"Stop acting like girls and fight!" Jackie yelled and sure enough a punch was thrown, collided with nose job. Ke pouted, she liked hair pulling.
They had a silent conversation before Jackie muttered. "I don't fucking understand you."
"Sure you do. Thrill of the fight without the bloodshed. You're thinking about it J. I can tell, you're going to retire soon and then you'll be doing my job.'
"We'll see Ke, we'll see."
"Jack, you know I'm fucking right. Stop frontin'." She spit out. "Which one in and which one out?"
"Goth girl in. She's got spunk." Jackie muttered. "What if I go respectable?'
Ke-Ke laughed. "You love the gritty beauty, girl. You'll never leave."
"Wasn't talking about leaving gritty beauty, ho. Talking respectable like dental and health insurance."
"Who the fuck needs that?" Ke laughed. "How the fuck would you get that, girl?"
"Bounty hunter. Secretary. Bartender. Fuck, I don't know." Jackie muttered into her cigarette.
"Williams and Sarah. You're up. I'm picking your poison." Ke yelled before slipping down next to Jackie, music ready to go.
"What the fuck got you thinking this?" Her eyes flickered to the boys and then around the circle.
"Shit- Shit I never told you about."
"Ah, the closet that's actually a crypt. I feel you girl. You got some skeletons."
"Yeah, don't we all? Mine have been dropping out of the sky lately."
Ke laughed. "Boys?"
"Not exactly. More like memories."
"Good, you don't need those boys."
"I'm not even going there Ke-Ke. Don't even start." Jackie shook her head while watching the fight with half her attention.
"I'm just sayin' if you're ever so inclined, J. I'll be here." Ke pushed out her chest and Jackie rolled her eyes.
"Tap out!" One of the girls cried.
"Tap out!" Ke grinned, hoping back on her podium. "J, what do you think of these fine ladies?"
"Both out." Jackie shrugged. Both girls scowled. Whatever.
"So J, decided who's going to be tangoing with you tonight?" Ke said. Girls around the circle chanted their opinions, but Jackie's mind was made up.
"Helga."
The lumbering figure that was Helga rose up from the crowd, easily a foot taller than Jackie- and far more steroid enhanced than any woman should be.
"Finally," The woman's Russian accent boomed into the small ring. "I've waited months for this."
"I know." Jackie replied, stepping over the line, tugging her jersey over her head and exposing her sports bra. Her shirt joined her jacket in the pile near Ke.
The rules were set, dagger against nun-chucks. Tap out, bloody skull, or pass out.
It didn't take Jackie long -about a minute - to wear Helga out enough that she stopped using her dagger and threw it to the side. Out of common courtesy she tossed away her nun-chucks and went bare handed. It only took another minute to hit just the right spot on the huge woman's neck that sent her tumbling right into slumber.
"Pass out!" Ke hooted, slapping Jackie on the back lightly where blood wasn't smeared. Helga had managed to get a few nicks in, but nothing too serious. Jackie stepped out of the ring and unrolled her pants, loosened her belt and grabbed her shit, tossing her jacket on, shoving her chucks into her pocket, stuffing her cancer sticks into her sports bra and draping her jersey over her shoulder. She gave a little wave with the flick of her wrists, a salute and a goodbye.
"Wait!" She heard a gruff voice call, but she didn't stop. Nope, not tonight. He caught up with her though, but she was just too fucking tired to try and shake him off. "You shouldn't go home alone."
It was Gasman, of course it was.
"What do you want?" Jackie asked, angrily.
He didn't answer, just followed her.
She got weird looks on the subway -but then again, that was nothing new. She was bleeding after all, and not wearing much -bra, jacket, sneakers, and jeans. Gazzy tried not to stare at her skin, but Jackie could tell.
It wasn't until a homeless guy sat next to her and tried to rub his junk against her leg did he really say anything.
"Back off before I break your arm." Gazzy grumbled, glaring.
Effective, normally Jackie just punched them in the balls or pulled out her knife. In fact, Gazzy's venomous glares were keeping most of the dirt bags away.
"Gasman, chill the fuck out." Jackie snapped at him, because his actions were bothering her. "I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself. A fact of which you are aware."
"Against girls." He muttered.
"Did you see Helga? She's not a fucking girl, she's a giant. A lumberjack filled to the brim with more steroids than I can name."
"You still got cut up."
"This? This is nothing." Jackie laughed. "I've had broken ribs, broken fingers, broken toes, a ruptured spleen, a cut so deep I nearly lost my liver, a half punctured lung- the list goes on and on. A few scratches, it's nothing. My jacket is probably ruined, but I like my jersey better anyway."
"How can you half puncture a lung?" Gazzy asked.
"To hell if I knew. I wasn't really paying attention. I was more concentrated on not dying. "
"That isn't healthy. Normal people run away from violence."
"Look it's healthier than some things. At least I don't harbour a meth or coke addiction." Jackie said, watching the walls of the tunnel blur by outside her window. She had no comment about 'normal.'
"No, you just smoke incessantly." Gazzy muttered to himself.
"Excuse me? Are you judging me?" Jackie snapped.
"Of course not." He said too quickly.
"You better not be." She narrowed her eyes at him before slumping against her seat, tried and hungry. When the next stop came she detangled herself from her seat and hopped onto the platform deftly, pulling out her cigarettes and lighting up as she strolled up the stairs with a sensuous gait of someone who's completely comfortable with their surroundings -Gazzy followed her like a lost puppy, marvelling at her. He didn't meet girls like her -strong girls, yes- but no one with her outlook or attitude. No one had her gall -not even Max, and that fascinated him, more than it should.
"Are you done staring at my ass?" She asked at the top of the platform, rising an eyebrow.
He blushed, caught red-handed- reminding him of the night he had gotten his jacket back and how when her fingers had brushed against his skin for just the barest second that he'd gotten so hard he could barely think straight.
"What's a good little boy like you living in this fucking world?" She asked, strolling down the street like she owned it -and in a way she did, all eyes were on her.
"What makes you think I'm a good little boy?" He asked, slightly offended. He'd fallen into that role enough. He wasn't a good little boy -especially with the thoughts he'd been having about her.
"I can tell."
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
"How'd you get to be an undefeated street fighter?"
She shrugged and he knew he wasn't getting any more of an explanation.
"Where are we going?" He asked.
"I'm going to the best diner in LA. I don't know where you're going."
"I'm going with you."
And that's how it all started.