Chapter Seventeen:

Night Fight

The rains came suddenly, breaking the summer heat and leaving the world in a wash of gray. The internees were cleaning the inside of a huge warehouse at the edge of Los Lados, nearing into East Lados. The warehouse stored toiletries and other things sold at Poke Depot, placed on metal shelves that were damn near fifteen feet tall. Jazmin looked around and then sighed, starting to get to work. The mops were old and didn't hold much water, while the buckets were rusty and splattered with paint. The scrubbing brush had broken bristles and cracked handles, making it hard to clean with them.

As usual, Horace was supervising them, but he was soon fast asleep in his chair, a sports magazine flat on his face with his hands folded over his stomach. Jazmin scrubbed the walls as Nines was shaving dried up gum stuck off the floors. Uniqua had been cleaning the bird shit off the windows. Jazmin looked over Kyrin who was well rested and mopping for a few minutes, before placing the mop back in the bucket and taking a cigarette break. Within twenty minutes of cleaning, everyone stopped, uninterested in finishing now that Horace was fast asleep. Jazmin shyly walked over to Kyrin, who blew out a puff smoke from his mouth as he leaned against a pile of storage boxes in the third aisle.

"Hey…" Jazmin said, "I'm sorry about the other day—"

"Ay, don't trip," he assured, chuckling to himself, "That nigga sleep powdered, me not you. Shiiiit tho, I got some good ass rest from tho. I ain't too mad about that. Of course, ya know ya boy would have washed that nigga if he tried anymore shit."

Jazmin nodded, understanding what he meant. As long as they didn't interact, it should have been fine. Naz was on the other side of the warehouse, far away from them, most likely doing nothing productive. She stood there silently now, looking down at her cute kicks. Kyrin noticed her reticence. He smirked a bit.

"You iight?" He asked.

"Yeah," Jazmin assured, "Just…kinda over this community service bullshit."

Kyrin put out his cigarette and looked up at the large warehouse windows that were placed squarely above the metal shelves located to the east. The rain was starting to lessen into a steady drizzle. He grinned at Jazmin.

"Ay bih, let's chill outside for a bit," he said, holding out his hand. Jazmin blinked a few times, looking back at the cleaning equipment and then at everyone else. Uniqua was sitting with Nines, both of them watching something on her phone. Andre and Vinalia were talking and sharing a blunt while Lemmy was fast asleep on the floor, a bottle of henny right next to her. And although she couldn't see Naz, he was scrolling on his phone, smoking a blunt while sitting on a pile of boxes by the entrance. When she was certain she wouldn't be missed, she took Kyrin's hand. He then picked her up. Two pairs of wings sprouted from his back—the streamlined purple wings of a Crobat. He soared up towards the window and Jazmin reached out, unlatching it. Kyrin rapidly beat his wings, using the wind he whipped up to push the windows open further. Once he did, he flew out and towards the roof of the warehouse, landing firmly on the ground, his kicks splashing against shallow puddles that formed from the rain.

He set Jazmin down and stretched, withdrawing his wings back into his back, disappearing completely from sight. He pulled out a loosie and lit it, looking out into the cityscape. The sky was overcast, but yet he could see the interior of Scion City sparkle from this vantage point. Jazmin looked out with him. If we could escape, where would we be going? Kyrin took a long drag of the cigarette and inhaled deeply, letting out a whispery sigh. He looked nostalgic as he looked out into the urban wonderland that was simultaneously a wasteland. From behind the clouds, they could see the sun struggling to peek through, giving the landscape an ethereal look as small beams of sunlight ebbed through. It ain't ever easy, Jazmin thought, putting her hands in her pockets, her tail wagging a little. Kyrin kissed his teeth, shaking his head.

"Y'all got the summer for this shit. I'ma have to clean shit and pick up trash for a half a year," he said, "All cuz some niggas snitched."

Jazmin gave him a look, remembering that he mentioned that the security cameras had seen them. Kyrin didn't notice her skeptical expression and continued to reminisce.

"Err'thing we do, we do for someone else," Kyrin said softly, "All a nigga wanted is to just have shit to just get by, not just for me, but for the peeps in my life."

Jazmin shrugged languidly, "It is what it is."

Kyrin took a drag, sighing, "We try err'thing, and we don't get shit. Ah, well…"

"I feel ya," Jazmin said softly, thinking of Portia and Keisha, "I feel ya."

"The shit we do for love," Kyrin mumbled, coughing a bit and taking another pull, "And then some."

Jazmin sat down, pulling her legs to her chest, staring out into the overcast world, soon breaking into sunlight. There was a long stretch of silence between them, with the only noise being the sound of light raindrops hitting against the rooftop and Kyrin's occasional cough.

"Um…" Jazmin looked up at Kyrin, "So…I was thinkin' bout what you said. And, um, yeah, I'm down for it."

Kyrin looked at her and smirked, "Yeah, I knew you'd be down."

"C-Can we take it kinda slow tho?" Jazmin said, still nervous, "I ain't good at this shit…I'ma…ya know, just…"

"Nah, nah, I feel you," Kyrin said, "I gotchu. We gon' take slow if you want that." Jazmin got up, feeling a bit more confident and walked up to him, getting on her tippy-toes to kiss him. He kissed her back but broke it quickly, realizing how bad his breath must've smelled since he'd been smoking. Jazmin looked surprised but then giggled when he turned his head to pop in some tic-tacs. When he was certain his breath wasn't kicking, he went back to kiss her again, pulling her in closer. She smiled in the kiss, feeling her cheeks grow warm with anticipation and infatuation. She broke the kiss and gave a small, soft smile to Kyrin and then hugged him tightly. The hug surprised him, but it was a pleasant surprise. He slowly hugged her back, humming as he felt her warm body against hers.

"Yo!"

Kyrin and Jazmin let go as they saw Lemmy on the roof. She'd come up here through the stairway that led to the top floor and clumsily climbed out the window to get on here. She was clearly intoxicated, with the henny in her hand, stumbling tiredly. Luckily, there were rail guards on the roof, but Jazmin still watched nervously, hoping she didn't fall over or something. Lemmy plopped down right next to them, taking a generous swig before setting the bottle down next to her, pulling her legs up to her chest. Jazmin observed she had her hair in two pigtail braids that hung down to her back.

"Ayo Lemmy," Kyrin said, "We kinda in the middle of somethin' bruh."

"Ion fuckin' care," Lemmy said matter-of-factly, "Wha'ever y'all doing ion give a fuck. Y'all look dumb as hell together anyways."

"Man shut yo ol' drunk ass up," Kyrin muttered, taking one last pull before putting out the cigarette.

"W-what did you get community service for?" Jazmin asked. Lemmy shrugged tiredly, burping.

"Fuckin' fightin," she said bluntly, "And since the charges ain't so bad… so I'm here now."

"Bruh," Jazmin muttered.

"Ain't like them niggas I washed didn't have it comin' my guy," Lemmy said, "Like, ain't nobody said step to me. I keep warnin' niggas not to test me but they wanna test me so they gon' get this smoke."

"Bruh Lemmy, I'm tryna do some shit—take yo ratchet, green-bean body built ass on somewhere."

"Nigga," Lemmy looked up at Kyrin, "With yo sleepy ass? You think you won't get smoked too? Keep playin' with me. I'ma go wherever the hell I want nigga." She took another swig of the henny and let out a satisfied sigh.

"Bruh…" Kyrin said exasperated, "Lemme not yeet yo ass over the guardrail, cuz I will, bih."

"Try it, nigga!" Lemmy snapped, unsteadily getting to her feet, "And I'ma break my foot off in yo ass so fast you ain't gonna be able to shit for a motherfuckin' week."

Jazmin got in between them.

"Can y'all fuckin' chill for a minute, man, damn," she said, "It ain't that deep, fam. And Kyrin it's fine…ion mind her chillin' here for a bit."

Kyrin glared at Lemmy who cut her eyes at him and sat back down, gulping more mouthfuls of henny. Within a minute, she passed out, falling straight to sleep on her back. Jazmin sighed in relief and then tapped Lemmy's shoulder. She was out cold.

"Damn she always like this?" Jazmin asked.

"Lemmy? Yeah bruh," Kyrin said, "Bitch stay goin' to prison too. Always out on the block beefing with some bitch over a man, or a fuckin' parkin' ticket or some dumb shit like, not getting her the right type of vegan wings."

"You know her?"

"Sorta," Kyrin said, "I be seeing her around the correctional facility at times and before I got busted, I saw her around Los Lados. She stay drinkin'."

Jazmin knelt down, seeing the mega stone around her neck. Her eyes became saucers.

"Yo…bruh! She got a mega stone!"

"Nigga wat—"

Jazmin pointed to her orb necklace and then rolled up the sleeve of her jumpsuit to see if she had the keystone and the mega bracelet. She did.

"A mega stone," Jazmin repeated, "It some crazy shit and it's mad illegal. Supposed like up yo strength hella high, change you a bit, make you better at fightin'."

"Hmph," Kyrin shook his head, "That explain why this bitch stay fightin' niggas."

"I learned 'bout this crazy shit in school," Jazmin said, "It's illegal tho and last time I checked it's also unobtainable."

"Un…ob…tain…able…the fuck that mean?"

"Meanin' a regular degular ass nigga ain't getting this," Jazmin said, "Like goddamn…how she got one?"

"Prolly sucked some dick for it, ion know," Kyrin said shrugging.

"It ain't that lit tho. I heard it be causin' like, mental problems and shit in the long run," Jazmin informed, not wanting to touch it, "Like it be revertin' niggas mentally or some shit."

"That also explain why she a fuckin' retarded bitch."

Jazmin sighed and turned to Kyrin, leaning into him. She tippy-toed once more for a third kiss, but, as luck would have it, they were interrupted as soon as their lips touched.

"What the fu—y'all niggas up here?" Naz grumbled, coming in through the same way Lemmy had, "Bruh."

"Bruh," Kyrin become aggravated, "Why the fuck y'all niggas decide to come out when we up here, huh?"

"Ay I ain't even know yo ass was up here," Naz argued, looking at Jazmin. He sighed when she saw she had been getting intimate with him, "Y'all trifling, deadass."

"I'M trifling?" Jazmin yelled, "Nigga!"

"Bruh if you don't turn yo ass around back through that window I finna beat the brakes off you."

"Like last time?" Naz teased with skepticism in his voice, "I put you to sleep."

"That's cuz you did some cheap shot shit with sleepin' powder you soft motherfucker, lookin' like you get pedicures and shit."

Naz folded his arms, offended, "The fuck? We shittin' on pedicures now—"

"Can y'all two please stop," Jazmin said, "I ain't tryna—"

"Jaz… shut the hell up," Naz interrupted, unfolding his arms to point, "Like fuck you, bih, how the hell you pick this nigga over me? My drip way more superiorer than this nigga—"

"Superior-er?"

"…This nigga looks like he smokes kools and shower once a fuckin' week and you pick this nigga! Bitch!? Is you stupid!?"

"I'm about to steal on this nigga," Kyrin hissed, walking quickly towards him but Jazmin got in between them again, gently pushing Kyrin back.

"Nah, nah, chill!"

"NAH! Fuck this Marowak Morrison soundin' ass bitch!" Kyrin shouted, "Bout to wash yo shit."

"Show yo moves then bro-bro!" Naz said, "And for the record, soundin' like Marowak Morrison ain't a fuckin' insult, ol' uncultured ass nigga!"

"Y'all on some corny shit for real right now," another voice called out. They turned to see that Nines was standing there, while Uniqua was crawling through the window, clumsily, falling down a bit but quickly getting to her feet.

"I say let 'em fight. It's kinda funny, to be honest," Uniqua said, folding her arms.

"This ain't fuckin' funny!" Jazmin shouted, stomping her foot, "Y'all actin' mad dumb, right now!"

"No bih, YOU acting dumb," Naz barked.

"Nigga fuck you! You a fuck boy! You cheated on me and tryna act like that shit cool. I said ain't dealing with you and yo dumb shit!"

"You said you ain't even ready to be cuffed!"

"I ain't ready! But just cuz I ain't don't mean yo ass gonna tell me who I'ma talk to or not. I ain't cuffin yo trifling ass! You is a big ass flirt!"

Kyrin snorted in laughter, trying to hide it, but Naz noticed it.

"Nigga the fuck you laughing at? Bruh, better a fuck boy than a whole ass juvie nigga."

"Bro, I know you ain't talkin.' Didn't y'all break into someone's house and whoop they ass? You a criminal too if we gon' by that dumbass logic."

"No I'm not nigga! I did that to save Portia! Anyone would fuckin' do that," Naz shouted.

Jazmin was becoming jumpy, but Nines and Uniqua had already gone back inside through the window, not wanting to deal with nonsense.

"Well, yea, props," Kyrin said, "Savin' yo friend is some real nigga shit—but you still a punk bitch cuz you ain't takin' a hint my guy. She don't want you!"

"Nigga if you don't shut yo ol' ugl'ass up," Naz said, trying to re-center himself and be calm, "Lookin' like you chew on plastic and shit."

Kyrin glared at him. There was a bit of silence and then he swung on Naz.

"STOP!" Jazmin shouted, "STOP! STOP! STO—"

"Ay!"

Kyrin short-stopped his punch, turning to see that Lemmy was waking up from her painful sleep, hiccupping.

"Will y'all…shut the hell up," she grumbled, "A bitch is tryna sleep. Y'all mad loud. Go whoop each other's asses somewhere else, goddamn." With that she, passed back out.

Kyrin ignored her and roared, swinging again and catching the junior directly in the face. Naz flinched and stumbled, holding his cheek, blood squirt from his nose and split lip. But before Naz could retaliate, Jazmin screamed at the both of them.

"Y'all both trash!" She yelled, running off. She climbed through the window and ran down the several flights of stairs, back into the bottom floor of the warehouse where there were supposed to be cleaning. She jogged towards the back, where there were boxes stacked on top of each other, several feet high. She sat down on the floor, starting to cry. She pulled her legs to her chest and placed her face in her knees, shaking as she wept. She heard footsteps but didn't bother to look.

"Yo."

Jazmin lifted her head, her eyes red and puffy. It was Nines. She let out a shallow sigh and sat next to Jazmin. The freshman sniffed, wiping her eyes.

"Boys…are so damn stupid," Jazmin muttered.

Nines nodded, leaning back against the boxes as she sat, "Yep. I know."

"I ain't that smart either tho," the freshman said, wiping her eyes again as more tears fell down her cheeks, "I like dumb niggas. I guess it means I'm dumb."

"Nah," Nines said, leaning her arms against her knees when she drew up her legs, "It means you young. It ain't easy…growing up."

Jazmin nodded, "No…it ain't."

"Girls who grow up in Los Lados keep gettin' told that they gotta be strong or use they backside to get on by. Wha'ever happen to just being….regular? Or soft? Or…" Nines looked at Uniqua who was sitting on stack of plywood, looking at her phone, "Just different."

Jazmin shrugged tiredly.

"You care way more than the typical nigga," Nines said, "That's a bad thing cuz you mad sensitive to bullshit. But it's a good thing too, cuz you get other niggas to care."

"Well…I guess," Jazmin conceded softly.

"Yea," Nines said, quietly, "I get it." With that, she pulled out a fat blunt from her jumpsuit's pocket, lighting it with her index finger and took a hit. She blew out a few smoke rings and passed it to Jazmin. She reluctantly took it, but then smiled briefly as she took a puff, sighing in relief.

Lakeda walked through the local market, looking at what was on sale. She had a few days off from work and she wanted to use the time to relax and cook something hearty today. She tossed in some chopped beef, milk, okra, squash, tomato, onions, leeks and sugary breakfast cereal in her cart as she stroll through. It was nighttime and the bright fluorescent lights of the supermarket flickered sporadically. She looked through her phone, yawning a bit as she grabbed more items: berries, poke-blocks, bag of rice, bone broth, beef stock flavoring and chicken cutlets. As she walked down the aisle, she saw someone. He was tall, dark man with platinum blonde hair and deep bright blue eyes and a zigzag white tail behind him. She blinked for a few moments and he was gone. Zebadiah, she thought, sighing, shaking her head. He still lived on—through Strika, who was damn near the spitting image of him. She closed her eyes for a second, trying her hardest to blink back tears as a wave of nostalgia washed through her.

She remembered the first night they met. They were young and he was one of the strongest prizefighters of the day. He pointed her out in a crowd and blew her a kiss. The next day, he asked her out and Lakeda laughed to herself when she remembered she'd said no the first few times. Then soon, she said yes, charmed by him. He drove a low-rider and had picked her up on their first date at 10 PM, underneath violet street lights. She recalled her outfit: a short skirt, go-go boots and a tank top with a leather jacket and her relaxer that made her hair straight at the time. She'd grown that out though, now fully natural. I miss you, she thought. One of the things they used to do was shop together, laughing and making fun of the items as they picked them out. If I could make a deal with Arceus, and swap places, she thought, looking at some pancake mix and placing it in the cart. She sighed, looking at her phone again, almost compulsively. I miss you so much, Zeb. Her ears drooped a bit as she made her way to the cold cuts section. She picked up some sliced ham and then juice and milk. I can't do this alone, she thought, looking around at the couples shopping together. She swallowed hard and sighed again. If I could swap places…

She got to the cashier and paid for the items, watching them bag them for her. She picked up the bags of groceries and walked outside, waiting for the bus. Within a few minutes, the bus came and she got on, sitting in the front, setting the groceries on the floor, leaning back in her seat. I'll cook something nice today. As the bus pulled up towards a stop that was near the commercial area, two people got on. She looked at them—she recognized one of them, Laquan, Strika's friend, the basketball player of Arcanine-lineage, but the other one, of Infernape-lineage she wasn't too familiar with. They looked like they came from b-ball practice and sat in the back of the bus, laughing and chatting with one another.

"Ayo," Infra said to Laquan, "You comin' to the fights, bro? They gon' be outside cuz its summertime."

"I'm coming… it's at Maddie's Junkyard, yea?"

"Yezzzzzzir," Infra said, "Strika fightin' tonight, gon' go all out. I still can't believe he bagged Belilah bruh."

Lakeda's ears twitched when she heard Strika's name. She turned her ear to the side, listening.

"Ayo bruh, what does Belilah even do? She at the Underground every weekend."

Infra leaned back in his seat, "She a stripper."

Lakeda's ears twitched again as she mouthed 'stripper?' to herself, bewildered.

"From a model to a stripper," Laquan said laughing, downing his sports drink that was in his gym bag, "Downgrade."

"Nah fam," Infra said, "She bad."

"Yea but…does Strika even know what she do?"

Infra tapped his chin, thinking about it, "Hmm…ion know. He ain't ever mentioned her job."

"Yeah and she kinda old bruh. Ain't she like….thirty?"

Lakeda's eyes narrowed and she scoffed, her ears still twitching.

"Thirty ain't fuckin' old bruh," Infra said, "Just older. Plus older broads know how to throw it back, unlike these young hoes who can't do shit in bed."

Laquan shrugged, taking another gulp of his drink, "So who he fightin' tonight?"

Lakeda's eyes became wide when she heard this, listening in some more. Infra laughed a bit, taking out his smartphone and scrolling through it.

"His name is Bernard Blaze, a.k.a Blazemaster," Infra said. He showed Laquan a picture of the opponent. He was sun-tanned with wavy sand colored hair that was down to his back that he tied into an unkempt ponytail with a crimson ribbon. His eyes were dark teal and his forearms were birdlike, being of the Blaziken-lineage. He'd worn red bandages to conceal that fact though. In the picture he was kicking, striking a pose.

"That nigga is a kick-boxer bruh," Laquan said, "He gon' beat the fuck outta Strika, he ain't know no formal fighting styles."

"Ay I'm bettin' on Strika my man," Infra said, "He definitely faster than this nigga and err'body knows Blazemaster got whack ass defenses… can't block worth a damn."

Lakeda sucked her teeth softly and clenched her fists. Oh hell no, she thought. When the bus reached their stop, Laquan shouted "back door," and he and Infra hopped out. Lakeda, knowing she had six more stops until she got home, grabbed the groceries and followed them out the bus, keeping her distance. They were still talking, not noticing her following at least twenty feet away. She was grumbling as she did.

"I'ma whoop this lil' nigga's ass," she muttered, "I can't believe this shit."

When the two seniors got into Maddie's Junkyard, Lakeda sped up her pace a bit, taking in her new surroundings. She never came here, not once. And it was fucking filthy. There were bum fires, cars piled up to the skies and trash such as used condoms, discarded weaves and used needles tossed all over the dirt ground. What kinda crackhead shit is this? She thought, continuing to tail them. When they reached the center of the junkyard, she saw a loud and sizable crowd surrounding an enormous makeshift ring that was lit with trash fires at each corner. Laquan reached into his bag, tossing Infra a beer and opening one for himself, whooping and hollering at the fight that was starting.

Lakeda set down her groceries, not caring if they were are risk of being stolen and jogged over to the crowd, pushing through the pulsating and over-energized bodies. Among the crowd was Zanny, selling stolen pharmaceuticals to hyped mons, while Big Smoke was there, smoking a blunt by the corner of the crowd, being one of the few ones who were rather chill. She saw a Bewear woman greet Laquan and Infra and stand with them, popping a cigarette in her mouth as Infra lit it for her with his thumb. The announcer was sitting in lifeguard chair, the microphone in her hand, hooked up to speakers that were clearly acquired from the "back of a truck." She shouted into the mic.

"Yeerrrrrrrrrrr!"

The crowd roared in response, jumping up and down, yelling, screaming, hollering and tossing up beer cans, bags of chips and whatever the hell else had been in their hands. The announcer laughed, clapping her hands at their energy.

"Y'all motherfuckers ready?"

The crowd shouted out an MDMA hyped up "yes," back at her. She nodded in faux approval and laughed again.

"Bring 'em out then!"

Lakeda turned her head and saw two people climbing into the ring. Neither of them were Strika and she sighed in relief, but she still remained, watching intently.

"ALRIGHT!" The announcer bellowed, "On yo left, Dan DIGGEEEERRRRRR!"

A big bodied man stood up from his kneeling position for the crowd to see him. He was a tall and round brunette with light brown skin and a full beard. He was of the Diggersby lineage, sporting the arm-shaped ears and white hands that would have once been paws. He had trimmed his whiskers and hid the knobs underneath his bushy beard.

"And on yo right, Bernard Blaze, AKA, BLAAAAZEMAAAAAAAASTER!"

Blazemaster shadowboxed for a moment, showing off his flexibility and striking speed before the match started.

"Let's do this! READY!"

Lakeda's ears went flat against her head.

"SET!"

Laquan and Infra were shouting expletives towards the ring.

"GO!"

Blazemaster moved first, darting towards Digger and giving him a hard roundhouse kick to the head. He lurched back against the metal wire borders of the ring, blood dripping down his scalp. As Blazemaster went in for a punch, Digger parried with his ear-arms, grabbing Blazemaster's forearm and yanking him forward giving him a hard ass headbutt and then threw him down. The kick-boxer rolled for a bit, grunting in pain. But he got up, hopping to his feet without any assistance. Digger barreled towards him, ready to take him down. Blazemaster lurched down and got him with a wicked uppercut. The crowd responded with a mixture of shocked gasps, screams and cheers.

"OOOOOH!" Infra yelled, bringing his hand to his mouth, wincing in secondhand pain for Digger.

"GOT DAMN!" Laquan shouted while Belilah shook her head, sighing.

Digger fell back on his ass, spitting out blood and teeth. Blazemaster seized him in an attempt to toss him out the ring but Digger grounded himself and slapped the kick-boxer across the face with his ear-arm, then followed up with a hammer arm across Blazemaster's head. He crumpled to his knees, falling flat to his stomach. Digger got up, ready to toss him out but Blazemaster ripped away from his grasp and leaped off the edge of the metal rope border, going high into the air. As he did his foot caught on fire and delivered a flaming kick right into Digger's neck, not only burning him but knocking him right off his feet and painfully onto his back in a solid thud. Digger gasped for air, clutching the side of his badly burned neck, struggling to get up, but his lower back was definitely sprained, perhaps cracked. With that, Blazemaster yanked him to his feet, picking his heavy ass up and launched him out the ring. The crowd immediately scattered, not wanting to get hit. Digger fell to the ground, skidding for a few feet before stopping, falling unconscious. Blood ran down the side of his head and nose. The burn was still sizzling and even though he was out cold, he was having spasms. Lakeda stared at the whole ordeal, watching in horror as three people picked up Digger and put him on a stretcher, hauling him to another section of the junkyard to get patched up.

"AY!" The announcer shouted, "Did y'all see that shit! Motherfucker got knocked the FUCK out! Give it up for Blazemaster!"

The crowd cheered, clapped, roared, stomped, hollered and yelped. Blazemaster lifted his hands up in the air, taking in the applause as a referee came in, spraying him with some full restores so he could he prepared for his next match: which was now.

"It ain't over 'til the Purugly sings!" The announcer shouted out, "Next on the scene! STRIIIIIKAAAA!"

Lakeda's ears twitched at hearing that name. She saw her son walk towards the ring and climb in. He was shirtless and shoeless like all fighters, only in his jeans, with his forearms and knuckles taped up. Everyone was cheering, but Laquan, Infra and Belilah had been cheering the hardest for their friend.

"Y'all ready?" The announcer thundered. The crowd shrieked in excitement as a response. "Y'ALL KNOW WHAT IT IS! STRIIIIKA, FAN FAVORITE, VERSUS BLAAAAZEEMAAAAAAAASTER! Live and let die!"

They cheered some more as Lakeda looked around frantically.

"Ready!"

Strika got into his fighting position.

"SET!"

Blazemaster hopped back and forth, ready to start.

"GOOO—"

"OH HELL FUCKING NO!"

The announcer blinked and everyone turned, hearing that sharp voice cut through the noise. Lakeda pushed her way through the crowd, climbing into the ring. Strika's eyes widened when he saw her.

"Ma—"

"The fuck is this!" She yelled, pointing at the announcer and then looking at Strika, "This what the hell is hot in the streets these days? BOY! If you don't getcho ass outta this ring, the next match gon' me AND you, get the hell up outta here!"

"Oh shit…" Laquan whispered. Infra cringed, turning away while Belilah covered her face. The crowd began murmuring, confused and perturbed. The announcer who was shocked regained her composure, speaking into the mic.

"Hey ol' lady, we havin' a match, take yo' sadiddy milf ass on somewhere, this is between the fighters in the ring. Go complain after the fight. Unless you tryna tag in and fight Blazemaster?"

Everyone began laughing at that, including Blazemaster. Strika on the other hand, put his palm to his face, mortified.

"This shit ain't funny. My son ain't doing this! C'mon Strika, we going, now."

Strika took a deep breath, shaking his head, "Mom…"

"You ain't fighting this long-legged ass nigga, iight? Let's GO!" She shouted. Blazemaster scoffed.

"Look, we don't care, bitch. Just get the hell out the ring so I can whoop yo son's ass and call it an evening."

Lakeda turned around, looking at him, staring him down. Strika grabbed Lakeda's arm, trying to pull her back but she yanked it away from him.

"The hell you say to me you loud ass chicken cutlet?" She snapped, pointing at him, "Don't make me take off my fucking shoe."

"Move bruh," Blazemaster yelled, "I ain't afraid to duff yo ass either."

Lakeda began laughing, but it wasn't a happy or amused laugh. It was a laugh Strika was all too familiar with: the "you got me fucked up," laugh that usually preceded an ass-whooping. The crowd was a jumble of noises, chattering, snickering and booing. The announcer sucked her teeth, clearly displeased.

"We got a match lady! Move!"

Strika tried pulling Lakeda back, "Mom…just, let me—"

"You ain't afraid to do what nigga?" Lakeda snapped at Blazemaster. The kick-boxer rolled his eyes.

"I said, I ain't afraid to go through you to get to your son, you dumb old bitch."

Lakeda shook her head, forcing another laugh, "That right? That right?" She turned to him, her eyes becoming a brilliant gold. The throng's chatter soon became that of gasps when Lakeda's hands became fists. The announcer looked confused for a moment and then turned around in her chair. She saw the lights in a twelve block radius were suddenly shutting off, as if hit with a blackout. The crowd took note of the power failure once the lights in the junkyard abruptly became dark. Blazemaster was looking around, confused to what the hell was happening, while Strika yelled for him to run. Blazemaster didn't process Strika's warning as he stopped looking around, his eyes on Lakeda now. She lifted her hands, screaming at Blazemaster. She let out a bolt of lightning at him, sending him through the wires of the ring, breaking them in the process, into the pile of cars behind the announcer's chair. The speakers shorted out as that happened, as well as everyone's electronics: smartphones and tablets and the sort. The crowd grew deathly silent when the lightning passed through the cars and forked out into the air, dispersing into a harmless shower of electrons. The announcer's jaw had dropped. Laquan dropped his beer can, while Infra stared and Belilah covered her mouth. Lakeda took a deep breath, her glowing gold eyes going back to a deep, clear brown. The announcer got up in her chair, looking over the back of it, to see that Blazemaster was completely unconscious with blood seeping from his mouth. He had electrical scars all over his body and a few burns on his torso worse than anything he gave Digger. His hair was standing on end, partially cooked. His sparring pants were charred black also, with static electricity still crackling off them. Lakeda looked at Strika and grabbed him by the ear, pulling him out of the ring. In a few seconds, the lights came back on and electronics began working again. Lakeda dragged Strika over to his friends who'd been standing in the crowd, which now starting to disperse, sufficiently unsettled from that display of raw power.

"Hi…Ms. Jolt…" Laquan greeted sheepishly.

"Don't 'hi' me. This what y'all be doing?" She shouted. She let go of Strika's ear and slapped him hard across the face. "What the fuck are you doing, Strika?" Her eyes were becoming glassy with tears, "I lost your father like this! Doing these stupid ass fights! You wanna end up like him, lil nigga? Are you outta yo fucking mind?"

Strika rubbed his cheek and sighed, not having a response to that.

"This where you getting money from? Doing this shit! Strika, you better than this! I…we raised you better than this! The hell wrong with you? And all of y'all…shitty ass friends! I oughta break my foot up y'all asses for getting my son caught up this fuck shit!"

"I'm sorry—" Belilah began.

"Don't even! You Belilah? You too old for my son. Go date somebody your own damn age and stop fuckin' someone who just straight outta high school!"

"Mom! Stop," Strika said, "I like her. She cool people's…"

"Ion care! Ion care if any of these worthless lil niggas is 'cool peoples!' You ain't fighting no more. If you want money get a fuckin job! If you want respect, be a fuckin' man!"

Lakeda took a deep breath and saw that her groceries were still there and went to pick them up.

"You done, iight? I'm going home. Strika you better be fuckin' home before midnight," she snarled. She walked off, heading out of the junkyard to catch the bus. There was silence for a moment and Belilah put her arm around Strika's, leaning against him. She kissed his cheek and he kissed the top of her head in response. She mouthed 'you are fine,' to him, secretly relieved Lakeda stopped the match. They all stood in the silence for a moment. The quiet was interrupted as Infra snapped open another beer, taking a sip.

"Yo…yo mom is bad, Strika."

Strika sighed, looking tired, "Shut up bruh."