The Street Fighter

Unexpected Fights

Okay, so this is my new book. This is unedited so I'm apoligizing right now if there are mistakes. I hope you like this and feel free to vote, comment, all that good stuff. It starts... right now :)

I'm having the dream again.

It's the same one that I have every night. I'm standing at the entrance of a thin alleyway and see someone's silhouette. They're not moving but I can hear their heavy breathing.

"Hayden," a voice rasps.

"Who's there," I shout, turning around.

"Prepare. To. Fight!" the last word comes out as a howl and that's when I wake up.

I'm sleeping against the stone wall that's dividing the poor from the rich. I'm on the poor side of course. I take a deep breath to try to calm down. I stand up and stretch a little.

I reach my hand in my back pocket and fish out two coins. Not much but it will buy me a piece of bread. I start walking to the market. That and random pubs are really the only things on our side. The market is a very large area filled with tents. You always have to be careful when walking through it. People will kill for the little money luckier people have.

Everyone knows me here though. The only female street fighter. The one that beats up men for a living. The female monster. The list goes on and on. It doesn't bother me though. Money is money.

I look around at the different tents and walk up to one of the few that isn't torn up. When I reach the entrance, I gasp in surprise. A rich man was sitting there, humming to a tune. They are allowed over here (we're not allowed on their side) but they still rarely come over to our side.

"Hello?" I call out.

The man looks up at me and then scrambles to his feet, "A customer!"

"You have any food?" I ask.

"Of course," he smiles but then narrows his eyes, "You have money, right?"

I pull out my two coins and the man almost snatches them out of my hands. The rich are always jumping at the chance for more money even when they have banks full of it. They think the poor are desperate enough to buy food for the most outrageous of prices.

"Food first, please."

"Sorry," he mumbles and brings out a slice of very old bread.

I stare at him, "What? Two coins is worth more than that!"

"I'm sorry, this is what two coins can buy," the man says.

"You have to be kidding me," I growl.

The man bristles, "That's what I hate about you poor bastards! You're never grateful for what you have! Just take the bread and give me the money!"

"Cause we have nothing!" I shout, "Look around! We have just about nothing! You fat, brainless hogs just sit around all day on your side of the wall! Everything is all fine and dandy over there but take one seconded to glance over here!"

The man's shoulders tense and he pushes me out of the tent.

"Fine! I'll take the bread!" I tell him but he's already whipped his tent entrance closed.

I don't blame him really. If he's caught with me saying those things about the wall, we both could get into trouble.

"Hayden!" I turn around to see West, my manager, running down the row of tents to me.

Managers, well manage your fights and money. They bid the largest amount of money possible on you that you're going to win the street fight. If you do, they collect the money and split it with you. They also arrange your fights. It's better to have someone else worry about than you.