Someone in the World

Summary:All she has is a dead father and a junkie mother. Harlan hits the road and is thrust into a risky situation. Against the odds, she finds what she thought she would never have again: hopes and dreams. A story of discovering that family doesn't need to be connected by blood. (Story is rated T but later, individual chapters will be M with the introduction of a romantic angle)

Warnings: Strong language and violence. Also: scenes of a sexual nature. (A rating of M is posted at the beginning of a chapter)

Disclaimer: This is all fiction! It all came from my crummy brain. Any songs, cars, movies, TV shows, celebrities, known wrestlers, or even brands mentioned all belong to their respective owners. The only people I "own" are the obviously fictional ones, such as Harlan Grace Matheson, her family, Ray and any other fake characters that pop into this. As wrestling fans, I trust we all know who I made up and who is real...That reminds me, if anyone happens to have that exact name combination (Harlan Grace Matheson), sorry...It's pure coincidence and chance. I spent several days coming up with that name. Please don't take it away from me.


Harlan: Are you still connected?

Sawyer: What kind of action are you looking for?

Harlan: Anything, it doesn'tmatter. No pain, no gain…Right?

Sawyer: Right on. Let me know where you are and I'll find some "smokers" for you

Harlan: Alabama, in Birmingham. ASAP. Thanks, Saw

Harlan dropped the phone onto the hotel bed and proceeded to dig out navy blue lycra workout shorts and a simple tight black workout tank from her bag. Stripping, she quickly dressed in the workout clothing and slipped baggy jeans over the shorts and a zip up hoodie over the tank.

It had been ages since she had contacted anyone she had met at The Wrecking Yard; other than Peyton, she hadn't really been on speaking terms with anyone. She had gone in and worked her butt off, then headed out. Her priority hadn't been to make friends; however, she had kept the contact numbers for the people who could get her work at the drop of a dime. Sure, not all of those people were on the straight and narrow, but back when she was starting out she had been desperate for work. Sawyer was nice enough and he was one of the good ones; he didn't go out of his way to do anything illegal, but he definitely didn't shy away from the dirty work if it had to be done. He was well connected and had his hands in nearly every kind of network, legal or not. Whether you were looking for wrestling, MMA or anything in between or beyond, he could hook you up.

Doing up her gray sneakers, she heard her phone go off behind her. Checking her messages, she scribbled down the details Sawyer had sent her and thanked him once again. Grabbing her hotel keycard, she dialed for a cab and made her way down to the lobby.

Her stomach churned with anxiety as she stood waiting for the cab, her teeth biting into her lower lip. In her head, she kept going over the scene in the locker room. Dean's anger and disappointment on his face as he had left the room was stamped on her mind. She truly felt sick to her stomach but more than anything, she felt ashamed. She had betrayed him and it had cost her. She had spent so much time being angry at her mother, when apparently she was exactly like her.

I ran him off; now what?

The question echoed in her mind but she had no answer for it. He hadn't taken her call when she had tried phoning him, and he hadn't replied to the message she had sent.

It's over; I fucked it up

Closing her eyes, she willed the anger to rise above the wave of sadness which threatened to wash over her. Desperately, she held onto the anger. Pain was good, as long as she could be angry about it. She had to stay angry, she couldn't afford to break down and cry.

I'm not going to waste any more time crying…

Slowly, a cab drove up to the lobby door. Harlan jogged out and verified it was for her. She climbed into the back and gave the driver the address.

"That's in Ensley. Are you sure you want to be heading there? That's not the best part of town for a young lady to be by herself" the driver said, concern on his face.

"I'll be fine. Huge tip in it for you if you can take me there without any hassling" Harlan sighed, annoyed with the hesitation and delay from the driver.

Shrugging, the driver set the meter and drove off towards the location she had given him. Harlan watched as the streets changed drastically; when they had left the hotel, the streets were properly lit and people could be seen enjoying the night life. Now, the closer they got to where she was going, street lamps were off and there were fewer lamps on the sidewalks. Less people could be seen milling about the streets, but the people who were out and about looked like they weren't up for friendly chatter. There was an eerie quiet to the night, and the atmosphere definitely put her on guard. Occasional raucous laughter and shouting could be heard, but she'd be damned if she could ever see who was making the noise.

As the cab pulled up outside of a seafood restaurant, the driver stopped the meter and turned to face her with a business card in his hand.

"Listen, lady, I'm not sticking around here to get my wheels taken off my cab, but call me when you're ready to go" he said kindly, holding out the business card for her to take.

Harlan sighed and took the card, throwing it into her wallet as she counted out her money and paid him. Getting out of the cab, she turned and waved, signaling for him to drive off. She caught the driver's worried expression as he left, but she shook it off.

Landry's Crab Shack… Definitely looks like there would be crabs around here…

Avoiding the restaurant's front door, she walked down the darkened alley next to it. According to Sawyer's information, if she walked down the alley she would see what used to be a city parking lot. Veering to the left she would find the building she was looking for.

Walking through what used to be a parking lot, she kept her eyes and ears open; weeds sprouted up through cracks in the asphalt and broken glass twinkled ahead of her.

Ah, diamonds of the ghetto...

Harlan chuckled lightly as she avoided the shards of glass; she reminded herself she wasn't from the prettiest neighborhood in Chicago either. It would be fine, she was used to the rough and tumble.

Reaching the end of the parking lot, she caught sight of a group of men hanging around a busted looking car. Definitely a beater, the car had different colored doors and rust above the tires. The men laughed, the sound instantly putting her into hyper-awareness. It was that sound of devil-may-care laughter; uninhibited and throaty from the beer they were swigging out of cans.

With her head down, she avoided their gaze and walked to the left. Mullins Auto Shop loomed ahead of her. The sign looked like it had seen better days; sun damage had paled the paint and chips of paint were flaking off in certain spots. She approached the door and saw the faint glow of a light on in the back. Pulling on the door handle, she was surprised to find it opened. The little bell at the top of the door jingled to announce her presence.

The smell of grease and oil reached her, as well as the dusky odor of dust. Walking around the small front office, she could see there was a fine layer of dust on the various bottles of automobile fluids which were lined up on the shelving along the walls.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" a gruff voice spoke behind her.

Turning, Harlan surveyed the husky man. Graying hair and a frayed mustache adorned his head. He didn't look overly dangerous, but there was certainly a level of caution in his eyes.

"I'm looking for Biff" she said slowly, careful to keep her hands where he could see them.

"You're looking at him. Do you need servicing for your vehicle? I'm sorry to say all my mechanics are gone at this time of night; about the best I could do right now is tow and store your vehicle for you so it's not sitting out there for those damn vultures" he said with a typical Alabama twang. With each word he spoke his whiskers twitched. He grimaced when speaking about the locals, his yellowing teeth clearly in dire need of a cleaning.

"No, no. I'm not here about my car. Sawyer from The Wrecking Yard sent me" she said, hoping it would click for him.

He eyed her, quickly scanning over her form. Frowning, he shot her a look of incredulity.

"You're into cage fighting? Have you done any before, missy?" he asked her.

Shuffling under his critical stare, she replied with as much confidence as she could.

"I'm not a trained MMA fighter or anything, but I've brawled a bit and I AM training at a professional wrestling developmental center" she said proudly.

Looking her over once again, Biff seemed satisfied with her answer and beckoned her over. She followed him behind the service counter and they entered the back servicing area. Two cars were jacked up high above them and tools littered the area around them. Grease caked the floor heavily, providing a softer cushion than the hard asphalt beneath.

"We used to have a junkyard set up back here. My family has owned this place for decades, but once things started going downhill we couldn't keep the yard. Too many lowlifes coming in at night and taking parts, you know? Didn't matter what the heck we tried; I can't tell you how many guard dogs we lost. Damn bastards, but they don't give up, I'll give 'em that" Biff explained as they walked out of the garage and out towards the back of his lot.

The lot was large; dirt and pebbles crunched under their feet as they walked ahead. Remnants of the old junkyard hung around in the form of discarded oil drums, rusted tire rims and hub caps. Ahead of them there was a large shed-like structure. Harlan felt silly referring to it as a shed in her mind; the thing was the biggest "shed" she'd ever seen. Made completely of some type of metal, it gleamed in the moonlight.

"Now, before you head in there, there are temporary tents set up behind the shed. There's a tent for you womenfolk and another for the men" Biff said, pointing towards the structure. As they got closer, she noticed light seeping out from a small space between the door frame and the ground; the sounds of music and chatter emanated from within.

"It's okay; I don't need to change" she said quickly.

Biff turned to her with an appreciative glance; he seemed to like that she was good to go without any nonsense. Holding out his hand, he gave her a crooked smile.

"Good luck in there, Miss…" he trailed off, realizing he didn't know her name.

"Harlan" she replied, shaking his hand. His skin was rough, toughened by years of working in the automotive repair trade.

He nodded at her before sliding open the metal door. For only a second, Harlan hesitated; there was a roughly constructed cage in the center of the room with rickety looking wooden steps leading to the door. Groups of people, mostly men, hung around in clusters, ignoring the chairs set around the room. Standing, most people were smoking and drinking out of red disposable cups. Heavy rock music filled the air, as well as the mingled scent of sweat, dirt and cigarettes.

Zeroing in on a man with a clipboard standing near the cage, she took a deep breath and walked towards him. The man was your typical working class white man; brown hair, brown eyes, lightly tanned skin with a few signs of sun damage from too much sun exposure. The man looked up at her as she reached him.

"Can I help you, little lady?" the man asked politely.

At the very least, the people working here were much more polite and accommodating than the workers at the Cincinnati ring. Harlan explained the situation quickly and the man looked down at his clipboard, humming to himself as he scanned the names on the list.

"Irina Reznikova needs an opponent, but you're not exactly in her weight class" the man said hesitantly.

"Doesn't matter, she sounds fine" Harlan shrugged.

The man took an extra second to look her over before he asked for her name and scribbled it down on the list next to Irina's. Giving her the match number and asking about music, he took his leave and left her to her own devices.

Harlan saw a spot which was relatively secluded; a wooden chair sat against a wall with only a small group of people a few feet away to its left. Harlan sat on the chair and pulled up the hood on her zip up sweater as she waited for the show to begin. Sitting there under the cover of her hood, she felt each and every emotion wash over her; the anger and the shame swallowed her whole. She felt so incredibly stupid.

This won't be like Cincy… I'm not going to back down, and I won't be the one to fall


A/N: Mini-update for you guys! I hope you guys like it. It'll be vastly different from the experience she had in Cincinnati. Since that first time in the Cincy ring started it all for her (her interest in and her craving for wrestling), it was only appropriate that she return to "her roots" (so to speak). Feel free to start taking bets among yourselves, lol...Who will win? Harlan, or the heavier Irina Reznikova? Hmmm. See you soon at the next update! Writing an MMA-style match is going to be different, lol