Impossible Is Nothing (An Iggy Azalea/Eminem Fan Fiction)

Chapter 3: Murda Bizness

Marshall's P.O.V.

"Look, you tried. Maybe she'll end up showing up at the battle! You know, I think she was interested. Serious," Proof was saying to me.

To be honest, after that occurrence with the girl, I felt pretty lousy. "Yeah, right," I said solemnly to Proof.

He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it. "You'll see her again. We'll come back to this club, if you want. It ain't the end yet."

I know he was saying encouraging things but it didn't make me feel all that hopeful. I expressed my gratitude, though. I appreciated Proof's efforts. "We'll see. Anyway, thank you, for everything. I had a good time tonight. Thanks, homie."

He smiled at me and gave me a half hug. "No need to thank. How about we head back to my place?"

I spoke up. "You know, I think I'll just walk home. I feel like heading back, calling it a night. My place's close anyway. Think I could use the walk," I told him honestly.

Proof looked unsure. "Walking alone in the streets at this time?"

I laughed at him. "I'll live. I'm good."

Proof sighed, saying an "alright" to me, giving me a hug before heading back to his car by himself. I pulled my hood over my head and stuffed my hands in my pockets as I walked on. I heard the honking of a car, Proof's, as he drove on past me. I gave him a small wave.

Continuing on, I turned onto where I had to get past the back of the club to get to the sidewalk I needed to be on. I was mostly staring at the ground, contemplating about things. I looked up a brief second later when I thought I heard some noise. When I did (happening to be right), I saw it all right there: a giant dude, wearing all black, looking to be attacking some other smaller figure.

I didn't know what to do, if I should scram or even help out. I didn't want to get involved, though—hell no. I could barely even see what was even going on since the lights weren't all that good down this empty street. But when I moved at an angle, I fucking saw it, saw who the "smaller figure" was. The long blonde locks, big fur coat—it was Bunny.

I pulled my hood off in fury as I went sprinting up to this scene like no freaking other. I started yelling things out, hot. "Hey! The fuck are you doing? Get your hands off her, jackass!"

I saw the large guy turn his back in surprise. He made no movement to get off her, though. He was looking back mad at me like I was interrupting him. "You really asking for it too? What, she your girlfriend?" he began mocking, being annoying about it. "Get your trailer trash ass out of here or you're really going to be sorry!"

Oh, fuck no. Once I got to where they are, I saw he was holding some switchblade knife to her throat. And her eyes looked petrified as hell. Anger and rage ran through me. I started getting all up in his face, giving his violent shoves. "The fuck you just call me? I'm not going to say it again, get your god damn hands off of—"

Before I could finish my line, I found myself landing on the rock-hard pavement ground half a second later. The fucking guy had just given me a full-on blow in the center of my face, his fist coming in strong contact with my nose. I felt it greatly in the after-effect. It was stinging like a bitch, blood dripping mad. Wincing, I covered my nose with my hand, my eyes meeting up with his in such hateful fury, when something else took me aback right that moment.

Bunny, at that instant, holding her now taken-off heel, hit him hard as fuck in the back of his head with it. Once the man grasped his head in pain, distracted, she kneed him twice as hard in the crotch. Directly after, she grabbed him by his jaw and slammed his head the hardest against the side of her Mustang, knocking him out. He fell to the ground in front of me with a loud "thud."