The Nameless.

I

Jamie Larson.

A sudden burst of pain erupts from my left upper-thigh and I grit my teeth and continue to fight. I can't lose this one, I can never lose. I do this for him I remind myself and that gives me that boost. Enough of a boost to throw one final punch to the bulky mans throat.

The joy of illegal fighting is that you could literally kill a man and you would still claim your money. Being a girl however, makes this a whole lot more difficult, especially with school the next day.

I am in a group of anonymous fighters that all fight alongside each other, we go by the letters of our first names and we have never seen each other without our ski masks on. I know what you are thinking, lame or cliché right? Sadly that is true, we are the elite fighters that always show up wearing some form of face cover. The guy who runs it saw us as a group that would work well together, however none of us wanted to reveal our true identity. This worked well in our favor of being called The Nameless. Mathews, the guy who organizes the fights and the betting money gave us a choice of names which we narrowed down to The Anonymous and The Nameless; we took a majority vote and ended up as The Nameless.

I am J; there is A, M, D, K and N. That is about all we know about each other really. Matthews and the rest of the group walk over to me after the fight. M is a super intelligent computer genius who designed software for us to communicate without having to know phone numbers or any other detail apart from a pin number that we received off him upon the second group meeting. We have our letters as identification and that is it really, we are able to set up fights and we then inform Matthews of our decisions.

"Well done J, here are your winnings." Matthews congratulates me before passing me an envelope and walking away. The ski masks have built in tinted goggles so we can only see the outline of the others. N pulls his phone out and opens the software and sends a message to the entire group.

N- I believe we are still unbeaten.

M-Thanks to J anyway.

A- We have to run before someone jumps us. Talk later guys.

J- True A, I'm off before we get busted. Cya.

D-Yepp, I'm gone too. Bye.

K- Well I guess I'm off too, not risking getting jumped alone. Next time we meet we will have to find a more secure place.

J- I know just the place; I'll message you the address.

I run towards where I parked my Kawasaki ER-6F black motorcycle and quickly pull away from the dodgy street, heading off towards my house.

By the time I reach my destination, the sky is pitch black and the pavement is illuminated with the flicker of the broken street lights, the smell of drugs hitting me from all angles of the street. The house in front of me is falling apart, unsafe and old. The house blends in with the rest of the rundown neighborhood. My twin brother Joshua, my older brother Samuel and Sam's best friend Jordan Johnson share this house with me. Jordan and Sam work in the local pub to help keep us alive with a roof over our heads and fed and clothed. I admire the two of them for that. I fight so that they don't have to work as much and my brother Josh is focused on football, which he is really good at. He's the quarterback in our school football team; he is trying to get himself a scholarship. I, on the other hand, do all the illegal stuff like street fighting and drag racing.

My oldest brother, William is in Yale learning how to become a lawyer. We all miss him, but we are proud of him for following his dream.