A/N: Hello, beautiful people! I hope you are all well. I myself am still quite sick, but on my way to getting better. Anyways.
Disclaimer:Nothing of this story is mine except the plot, which I'm quite fond of.
I'm sweating. Jazz has been showing me how to use the knife, because all I had as reference was movies and instinct, and that just made him shake his head and chuckle at me. He's a demanding teacher.
He's also a weird guy. Everything about him screams baggage, and I mean beyond the fact that he apparently lives on the streets.
I mean, what kind of nineteen-year-old fights like that? 'Cuz this is no ordinary street fight, relying on instinct and adrenaline. It's too calculated, too mathematic. He's playing an extremely complicated game of chess in his head, anticipating on my moves, always three strikes ahead of me.
It's a huge, completely unpredictable melting pot. A bit of this, a bit of that. A sprinkle of about half the martial arts known to man, a dash of basically anything his eyes settle on, the shape of the walls, the dying light, the empty crate forgotten in the corner. He uses everything around him. Mostly there's one rule.
Play as fucking dirty as you can.
This isn't just street fighting, just a gang brawl, that he's preparing me for in this crazy crash-course of a night. It's deadly, and it's desperate, and it's calculating. It's survival in its purest form.
"You get five minutes. Then you're back up, or I'm out and you can find yourself another babysitter."
The minute he opens his mouth, I'm sprawled out on the ground, my lungs trying to break through my ribcage. Every part of me hurts, but I also feel like I might, one day, be able to fight my way out of unpleasant situations.
This night might be changing my life.
"You know, you don't actually suck that much. You're fast, and a quick thinker. But you need to let go of the fucking rules or you won't last a minute. Fight for real. Fight dirty."
I nod. Still can't talk.
When my vision's cleared, and I've stopped choking, I turn on my side and ask where he's learned to fight.
"I dunno. I've always known, I think. Since I got my hands on my first blade."
I know there's something he's not telling me, but I don't mention it.
I can't afford to piss him off, and I have no idea how volatile he can be.
"How old are you, anyway?" It's been confusing me for a while now. He looks - and acts - around 20, I'd say, but kids age fast around here. And there's something in his eyes sometimes that tells me he shouldn't be this old, or this dangerous, or this guarded, or this confident.
There's something really odd about him.
He smirks at me, weirdly proud, suddenly youthful.
"I'm almost sixteen. Amazing what dirt and a scowl can do to your face, huh?"
Inwardly I gape. This shouldn't happen. Not to kids. Not this bad.
But outside I shrug. Meh. No big deal.
My poker face is my one reliable defense.
"Hey, that girl, from earlier…"
He shifts instantly. Tense, serious. I'm in volatile territory.
"Yeah?"
"What… What's her deal?"
"I have no idea how you've lasted so long around here without hearing about her. She's the breath of this city. Holds everything together. You won't find anyone on the streets that doesn't know her, though not many know her by the same name."
There's not much in what he's saying that I didn't know already. And I have heard of her. The tiny mystery girl who walks the night alone.
Whispers travel a long way.
I've been told that she knows everything, because half the town reports to her. That she's scared of nothing, because everything fears her. With good reason, though no one could tell me why.
They say wherever she goes, she always has two or three people in the shadows, guarding her – but that she fights for herself.
They say no one that's with her is ever truly alone. They stick together, have each other's backs. They're more tight-knit than most blood-related families.
Considering the way she appeared behind her three goonies, and the way Jazz just casually dropped from the roof at her whistle, I'd tend to believe that.
A/N: I know, I know, but a bit of background was necessary. Bear with me here, I know where I'm going.
Also, I have over 90 views of this random figment of my imagination, and still 0 reviews. How is that?