Undeniable Fate

One

Right, left, uppercut...right, left, uppercut...right, left-

"What are you doing? It's after hours," the voice states.

I feel the sweat roll down my face and back, my fists sore and bruising from constant impact with the punching bag.

"What does it look like? Practicing," I reply sharply, then hit the bag again.

"You're Asher Bates, am I right?" the same person asks, walking behind the bag and holding it while I continue to hit it.

"What's it to you?" I snap, tightening the wrap around my hands. The man grins at me, showing off yellow, cigarette stained, teeth. His graying hair is gelled back neatly.

"I'm Jack Stiles, head of the underground fighters," he tells me, sparking my interest.

"What are you doing here, then?" I respond.

"I'm in need of a new fighter, someone that'll earn me money. I think that person is you, Mr. Bates," he answers.

I unwrap my hands, crumpling the fabric in my hand, "well, looks like it's your lucky day."

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"I-I swear, I didn't mean to knock your books in the floor," the freshman stutters as I slam him agaisnt the metal lockers.

I glare down at him, "you need to learn who not to mess with, kid."

"Come on, dude, I swear I won't do it again," he pleads.

I look at him. I haven't seen this kid before, he's probably new.

"Hey!" the voice echoes down the hallway, and the boy closes his eyes, his cheeks tinting pink.

I look to see who'd try and stand up to me, and come face to face with a small girl. Her dark hair is pinned back in a messy bun, and her eyes are shooting daggers at me. She glares up at me, "look here, I dont know who you think you are, but you need to let my brother go."

I turn back to the boy, "looks like you need your sister to save you, wimp."

The girl places her tiny hands on my chest and pushes me a little, 'back off, I don't take crap from jerks like you."

I smirk, "what's your name, kitten?"

Her face morphs into a scowl, "get lost, play boy."

"Soyer, cut it out," the boy bites.

"Soyer? Isn't that a boy's name?" I question.

Her eyes hold fire, pressing her lips into a straight line, she takes a not-so-threatening step forward, "I dont know what your problem is, dude, but I won't take it. You're a conceded jerk who thinks it makes you look tough by picking on the weaklings-" "hey," the boy interrupts.
"Shut it, I'm trying to help you here," she replies and I smirk.
"You need to pick on someone your own size. It makes you look like a coward when you pick fights with weaker kids," she snaps.

"You better watch it, kitten, you don't know who you're messing with," I say lowly.

Her eyes narrow again as she looks in mine, completely unfased by my threats, "come on, Travis, we're done here."

Her and the boy walk down the hall and I call, "see you around, kitten."

She ignores me and keeps walking. She's definitely not like the other girls...yet.