Hey guys! :D So this is my first one-shot fanfic! Randomly got the idea for it whilst listening to my iPod a few hours ago, thinking of what to add to the plot for Blood for Blood, and although I've always loved this song, this is the first time I thought of writing something for it XD So now here I am, at 6:04am, finally finished it after a few hours of just enjoying writing it :D
I totally recommend listening to the song whilst reading this too!
Hadouken! - Turn The Lights Out... Get on it! ;D
Enjoy, comrades!
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The sounds of the basement I stand in suddenly come back to reach my ears as I glare down at the body at my feet. Men shout and scream, handing over wads of cash and shaking hands or threatening others on the opposite side of the chicken wire style, seven foot high fence that seperates me and the body and them. Sweat layers every inch of my tanned, bruised, bloodied skin and continues to pour down the sides of my face and my chest. I notice I'm still standing offensively; my feet shoulder width apart, knees bent, torso slightly crouched forward and my fists brought up to beside my ear and to the side of my chin.
I shift my feet a little, stand up straight, shake my fists out and relax a little. I examine the broken skin on my knuckles as the blood starts to congeal and darken, and smile. In the corner of my eye I watch as four men have to drag my previous victim away, still unconscious, turning my smile into a smirk.
Poor bastard never stood a chance.
He may have been like, six foot, pretty built and covered in pretty rad tattoos…
But I'm Santana Mother Fucking Lopez.
Thanks to his crappy attempt to deter me by pulling my hair, my pony tail is now an absolute mess. I reach up to fix it and ignore the skin of both fists protesting. Pain is just a message, your brain can choose to ignore the message. Just like I ignored that brunette bitch at the bar's text last night…
"Lopez! Lopez! Lopez! Lopez!" The hoarde chants excitedly, cheering me on even though nothing's happening right at this moment.
I giggle and do a little curtsy whilst blowing a kiss and winking to a random man, in the most girly way humanly possible.
Why?
All a part of the image baby. Have you ever seen a hot, innocent, girly girl beat the crap out of a guy twice her size? It's pretty sexy. I mean, I'm explaining why I do that, sounding like a vain bitch but seriously, I watched a tall, toned blonde girl with beautiful ocean eyes do that very same thing last night. I had to lock myself in the bathroom for a while, if you know what I mean. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge. Fuck, she was smokin'…
So that's why. Comprende?
As quickly as they had brightened, the fluorescent lights hanging overhead dim a little, but not too much and a brief silence envelopes the crowd as the anticipation for the next contender to arrive builds.
Hollers and roars break out again as they finally see who it is that'll be facing me. When I see him, I laugh. Easily around twenty four, he's built like a brick shithouse, arms covered in shitey tribal tattoos that meet to entwine in the center of his broad chest. His mousy brown hair is shaven into a V-cut and gelled up into spikes, his eyebrows are furrowed and have two thin, vertical stripes shaven into them. He has some oddly ginger stubble styled into a goatee with a joining moustache that's just begging to be waxed off. The only item of clothing he wears is a pair of boxing shorts, which next to my tight hot pink tank top, short black shorts, knee high pink socks and silver hi top trainers, makes him look like your stereotypical pit dog with an enormous ego .
I snort, because he reminds me of my brother's best friend's cousin from Glasgow, Scotland.
His expression shifts to anger when he sees my calm body language and the definite smirk on my face but as soon as he steps foot into the ring, the whole atmosphere changes.
The DJ in the far corner of the room in his tiny booth has just started playing the next song to soundtrack this particular match.
A slow, bassy build up sounds throughout the room, overpowering even the loudest man and crawling it's way through my feet , up my legs and reverberating against my very bones as it reaches my heart, its pounding matching the beat.
My opponent takes his stance but I still stand casually as I let the music drown my system. The melody is introduced by a synthesizer briefly, snaring my senses.
Just as the first line of the song is spoken, the lights go out completely.
Turn the lights out
And just as quickly, they come back on to full brightness. As this one line is repeated a few more times, so does the action of the lights flashing.
Finally.
The drop.
Make way for the ultraviolet, teenage riot, don't try it
My competitor starts edging painfully slowly around the edge of the circular pen we stand in, but I stay steady.
You can't (Stop this, stop this), You can't (Stop this, stop this)
Coincidentally, this happens to be my favourite fight song. I know all the words.
As the next line hits I raise my hands, palm up and hunch my shoulders in a gesture any should take as challenging.
You see I'm lit like a molotov
Get out my way when the riot kicks off
You can't (Stop this, stop this), You can't (Stop this, stop this)
I make my own way around the edge of the ring, faster than the other guy, gaining on him from behind. When I reach him I give him a wink and another of my signature smirks.
Get ready for the rough and tumble
If you wanna be startin' somethin'
The man snarls at me in response and lunges. I sidestep his attack and use his momentum to throw him face first to the ground.
You ain't seen nothin' yet, no you ain't seen nothin'
Push your way to the pit, stand tall raise your hands
I pretend to punch and kick my way through an imaginary crowd until I stand still and punch the air with both hands, patiently waiting for this idiot to get the fuck up whilst creating more entertainment.
If you wanna be startin' somethin'
You ain't seen nothin' yet, no you ain't seen nothin'
The guy finally gets up but is confused because at this part of the song, the bass has sped up a bit and the line Turn the lights out is again repeating three times, but instead of just flashing them, someone has turned on a strobe light.
I laugh at him because he looks drunk as fuck, stumbling around trying to get a focus on me and I enjoy the feeling of the bass rumbling in my throat. I jump from side to side and down and around him until the lights become normal again. Just because I can.
Performer that I am, I wait for the line until out of nowhere I pop up in front of him and start hammering my fists into his chest and stomach, feeling the skin tear farther and blood start to drip again.
Make way for the bass
We fracture ribs and the dim when the sun comes in
When he staggers back, I take the time to jump up and down repeatedly, punching the air over and over with my right fist, getting the crowd crazed further.
(Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go)
I spin 180 degrees to land a sequence of a roundhouse kick to the face into a scissor kick to the gut.
Make way for the drums
We pillar these beats so hard like concrete sheets
(Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go)
I let him get back to his feet and at least give him a chance before I fuck him up completely, otherwise it would just be no fun.
He struggles with his balance but throws a heavy punch that would collide with my nose straight on, but I'm mad flexible so I just lean so far back, I feel like Neo when he dodges them bullets.
As if we're connected by an invisible rope, when he pulls his fist back into his defensive position, force myself back up straight. I can tell by his constipated looking face that he's more than pissed he missed me.
We lit the fuse and we're ready to blow
I don't care where we are, I don't care where we go
He swings again, this time a round punch that, according to it's trajectory, should connect to my temple. Shame I turn my head at the last moment, as if I'm simply checking out the interior scenery of the joint.
He growls and this time throws a kick towards my left knee cap but I easily bring my leg to the side as you might do when you've been standing still for too long and you change legs to rest on the opposite one.
A roar rips from his throat as he runs forward to tackle me.
I spring high into the air and do a forward roll down his back when he reaches me before landing back on my feet, smirking like a twat now.
Not sure how much longer I can keep this teasing up now guys…
You better run from cover where the filaments go
I don't care where we are, I don't care where we go
He glares at me but hesitates, trying to consider what move to make next.
This is your last chance boy, this is your last chance
This is your last chance, your last chance
This is your last chance, your last chance
I wait for him to come to me, standing casually and examining my nails. Stupidly, he slowly comes closer, step by step.
My smirk becomes a full on sneer.
Make way for the cardinal sin
When the boys come out when the freaks come in
In my periphery I see the crowd jumping to the beat and fist pumping.
(Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go)
I leap forward, catching the guy off guard, and, grabbing a hold on his shoulders, swing my body around him so I'm clinging to his back, digging my nails in for good measure.
He screeches and tries to throw me off but I hold tight. He backs up against the fence and pushes me against it but I don't even register the pain of the action.
Make way for the horror show
If you wanna bring it then we'll come a loco
(Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go)
I pretend to scramble to hold on, purposefully scraping my nails down and across his bare skin, leaving long and relatively deep scratches. I squeeze my thighs, tighening my hold around his waist and wrap my arms around his neck tightly, cutting off his breathing for a few seconds. When I start to feel him sway I let go and slide down his large body, landing nimbly on my feet as he staggers around choking, hands held up to his throat.
We lit the fuse and we're ready to blow
Now I completely change tactic. I absolutely pummel his face and chest with such an insane line of punches, I think I just broke my speed record.
You better run for cover where the filaments go
I don't care where we are, I don't care where we go!
My breathing is finally haggard and my throat feels like desert sand from how thirsty I am. My arms feel weak and the layer of sweat has turned into a freakin' moat drowns every pore of my body.
Hah. Moats protect things right?
Then this one protects what? My heart?
Aaah but after last night, that blonde already has it.
Thinking of her pretty cobalt eyes and silky smooth, blonde hair gives me one last burst of energy and with one final kick to the temple, I knock out my opponent.
Not even a fucking scratch on myself, might I add.
Turn the lights out,
Turn the, turn the
Turn the lights out.
Soooo? What did you guys think? Leave a review! :D