Street Fighter. (Under Heavy Reconstruction)

 so here's Street Fighter. Its dedicated to wishingc because she is EPPICZ!

annnnnnnnnnyway.....

hope u like! + i'll try 2 make a chapter every week

- Isabella. C. 

P.S the girl on the cover is Arla and the pic of the little boy is Joey :D

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PROULOUGE...

A scream peirced the fridged night air, brining Arla out of her dream like state. She looked around in fright, wondering if she would make it to her run down Apartment block tonight.

Another scream asulted her ears as she quickened her steps, Arla could already imagine the scuffle in her head, some rich, snotty kids thinking it would be funny to show off there wealth to people that hate them for it, and the downtown area was famous for that. They would come into downtown and be shot on site; if they were lucky they would only get slashed up pretty bad. She shruddered thinking about the many new ways the people of her area had come up with of killing people, the more slowly and the more horrible the better.

So it was with a sigh or relief that she got to the entrance of her home, if you could call it that...

Once she was settled and ready for bed, she remembered that tommorow she had a fight, grinning in excitement now she let herself slip into her waking dreams, but Arla couldn’t shake the feeling that something big was going to happen tommorow.

Chapter 1.

Arla.

I would love to say that i woke to the sunlight streaming in through the curtains, and streatched lazily, enjoying the warmth of my four poster bed.

As if.

I woke up the sound of police cars partrolling the street, doing there rounds with the sirens blaring, dogs barking, people yelling and what not.

Not exactly a fairytale wakeup.

I groaned as I felt a pounding in the back of my skull, there was a party on the upper levels of the apartment building last night and my brother, Joey, and I had gotten barley any sleep. To make matters worse I had a fight today.

Fully awake now, I carefully, as to not wake Joey up, slid out of bed. Padding softly to my chest of draws, I took out my fight clothes and swiftly put them on.

I tiptoed to Joey’s bed on the other side of the room, and gently shook him awake, “Come on bud, wake up… I have a fight today.” I said temptingly, using his love of fighting to my advantage. With one look at me to prove I wasn’t lying, he shot off out of bed and to his draws throwing on whatever he could get his hands on. He ended up in more superman PJ’s. I chuckled and stopped him by saying, “you won’t look very manly wearing those bud…” I said teasingly, while stripping him down and helping him into some jeans and a Shirt that had the national street-fighting symbol on it along with my signature on it, so he would be allowed into my changing rooms and he would be treated like royalty in the fighting club.

Soon we were walking out the door onto the street. I took Joeys hand and led him securely behind me, not letting go until we were at the alleyway of the club. I knocked on them door “Position?” The burley man said gruffly, asking me whom I was and if I knew what went on in there, but most importantly, if I was with the police. “Street Fighter Samba.” I loved the Lion King when I was younger and remade one of the names into Samba to make a street name. 

The guard’s eyes widened and he let me in imeadiantly, apologizing profusely for holding me up.  I brushed him off, I didn’t really care. He was just doing his job after all.

As we entered I spotted Koran, my coach and mentor. “SAMBA!!!” He bellowed, his voice bouncing off the walls. I winced slightly, I had very sensitive ears and he knew it. So he made sure to bellow and shout as much as he could around me. “Koran,” I muttered dryly, I loved him like a brother, but sometimes…. just sometimes, I really wanted to break his nose.

“Oh come on! Cheer up a bit, will you?” he laughed, showing off his dimples. I cracked a smile at him, before turning to my brother I said, “Joey, bud, this is Koran, My coach, manager, teacher whatever you want to call him. He stared at him wide eyed, which was not surprising considering all of Korans 6ft 5 self was staring down at Joey, looking quite scary for a six year old. I glared at Koran, telling him with my eyes to ease it up; he sighed but did as he was told. “Hey bud, hum… How bout I show you where Arla practises hey?” Joe’s face instantly lit up with a beaming smile. “Yes!!! Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes!”  He practically shouted at him.  I chuckled at his reaction, “Calm down bud.” Koran just looked scared, he wasn’t exactly what you call child friendly….